Next day we made our noonday halt at Poplar Grove, the scene of one of
Lord Roberts's fights, and farther on we passed Koodoos Rand Drift,
where General French had cut off Cronje and forced him back on
Paardeberg. All along these roads it was very melancholy to see the
ruined farms, some with the impoverished owner in possession, others
still standing empty. A Boer farmhouse is not at any time the
counterpart of the snug dwelling we know in England, but it was
heartbreaking to see these homes as they were at the conclusion of the
war, when, in nearly every instance, the roof, window-frames, and doors,
were things of the past. When a waggon could be espied standing near
the door, and a few lean oxen grazing at hand, it was a sign that the
owner had returned home, and, on closer inspection, a whole family of
children would probably be discovered sheltered by a tin lean-to fixed
to the side of the house, or huddled in a tent pitched close by. They
all seemed wonderfully patient, but looked despairing and miserable. At
one of these houses we spoke to the daughter of such a family who was
able to converse in English. She told us her father had died during the
war, that two of her brothers had fought for the English, and had
returned with khaki uniforms and nothing else, but that the third had
thrown in his lot with the Boers, and had come back the proud possessor
of four horses.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277