Skill and energy enabled our forces to fall back upon Block Drift; the school-house built by our missionaries there had become, as Macomo had sagaciously predicted, a barrack for the red jackets.

Amidst the roar of artillery, the blaze of burning waggons, and the yells of thousands of savages, a band of fourteen hundred mixed troops crossed the drift of the T'yumie stream, and took up their position on an eminence commanding a sweeping view of Kaffirland, with the vale threaded by those waters of which the paramount chief, Sandilla, Macomo's brother, had sworn "the white man should never drink."

Far away from the spot first described in this story, far away in a deep recess among the mountains, is Amakeya seated-Umyeki forms one of a group a little way apart from the resting-place she has chosen. He is muttering his incantations-his terrible denunciations against the Umlunghi. Now the fire shoots up, and now he holds over it a skull containing a foaming decoction made from the right hand, the head, and some bones of an officer lately shot by the Gaikas. Into this awful liquid he dips his wizard wand, and pointing it at intervals in the direction of the British camp, he curses the Amaglezi, and condemns them by his powers of sorcery to the various influences of fear, sickness, death, and mayhap disobedience.

How the dreadful mixture froths and bubbles! And how the savages howl and dance, and shout their cry, and sing their war-song, beating heavy time with their naked feet, and the rattle of their assegais, the shrill voices of women making a chorus like the hurrying blast of the flying night wind.

Oh, sight of horror pictured from life!

When months had gone by, and after a succession of struggles, the miserable and misguided Kaffirs discovered the truth of Macomo's words: "To try to conquer the white man," said he, "reminds me of little boys striving to kill elephants with small bows and arrows."

The chief, Sandilla, was a hunted outlaw. Macomo, weary of the war, and knowing that in the end his people must fail in every enterprise they undertook, that "his land must die," had surrendered himself to the British authorities at head-quarters. He thought that the English, whom he had so often succeeded in cajoling, might be persuaded to restore him his lands. To obtain them again, he applied to Colonel Glencairn, whom he respected as an honest man as well as a fearless soldier, and who, he doubted not, would restore the territory he had forfeited.

"There shall be peace between us," was the cool remark of the chief; "and I will sit still for ever in the valley."

"That cannot be," replied Colonel Glencairn.

"You have broken faith with us too often to be believed now; we can no longer trust you."

"Listen, great leader," said Macomo; we now know the power of the white man. We are under your feet; Macomo is your dog,-the dog obeys the master who can take his life and feed him. Let me lie down again in the smiling valley, and let me be happy as your slave." "It is impossible," said Colonel Glencairn.

"Whither, then, shall I go? The bird of many summers cannot live

Amaglezi-English.

in a strange nest. My children have never seen the sun rise beyond these mountains. My father's cattle and mine have fed in large pastures among them; you have taken us out of the bush, but only give half a life if you send us from these pleasant places. Our bodies may move, but our hearts will linger here. The chiefs have been blamed for the folly of their people; if you would have us serve you and Umteko* with willing hearts, once more let us abide in the land where our own people have dwelt so long. I mourn, Glencairn, because my people had ears, but would not hear; eyes, but would not see, until the Umlunghi put the foot on our necks. My father, I have fallen; bid me rise, and you shall guide me. We are helpless, and must fall without you as a staff. You are one of the shields of the land. We know the power of the children of the foam, those who move along the face of the broad waters in seawaggons; and though we resisted you till the corn should be ten times gathered into our kraals, you could still bring red men from afar. My heart is very big; my breast aches with its weight. Say, Glencairn, am I to sit in the sun once more, or die like a chained baboon? I cannot speak again. My ears long for good words from your lips."

Macomo had so often prevailed with less persuasive eloquence than this, that he could scarcely believe Colonel Glencairn's assurance of the impossibility of acceding to his request. Not even an appeal to the governor was recommended. "It could not be granted."

Macomo sat down in moody silence, drew his kaross over his head, his followers retiring a few paces behind him, whispering at intervals with anxious faces.

Night time in Kaffirland :—the mountains fling their broad shadows down upon the undulating ground, encircling the British camp; the T'yumie waters glance and ripple in the clear moonlight, and the echoes of the bugle-call answer each other from the wooded kloofs and caves; a few lights only shone from the white tents, the distant piquets exchanged the watchword of the night, beacon lights began to twinkle along the mountain-ridges, and the bark of a dog, the distant and fiendish laugh of the hyena, the sharp cry of the plover, and the neighing of a trooper's horse, were sufficient to disturb the silence that otherwise reigned round the bivouac of the English soldiery.

Colonel Glencairn sat busily engaged in his tent writing; so busy, that he heard not a slight stir without, the sentry's challenge of "Who comes there?" nor observed that no answer was returned. The canvass fluttered; he looked up, and saw that it was put aside by a sable arm, beautifully moulded, and ornamented with bracelets of many kinds: and Amakeya, stepping over the slight barrier between her and Colonel Glencairn, stood before him. But for her armlets and bangles of polished brass, her head-dress seamed with beads of bright blue and white, her many necklaces of various colours, that dusky form might have been but as a shadow between the officer and the white walls of his tent. For a few moments she stood silent, with her arms folded across her boddice,‡ as if

Umteko,-God.

The language of the Kaffirs, in its simplicity, bears a strong resemblance to that of the Bible. The term "eating up" has precisely the meaning of the same words in the Psalms.

The Kaffir women wear a fall of fine leather, closely seamed with beads. The edge of this, which hangs down to the waist, is vandyked and fringed also with beads.

wanting courage to address him she came to visit. "Lifting up her voice" at last, she spoke.

She said nothing of the many many times she had stood beneath the mimosa trees looking for him at the little drift in the green valley; but in few words she offers to "forsake all and follow him."

"Restore my father's lands," said Amakeya, "and I will be the pledge of his good faith. Thy people shall be my people, and I will sit by thy side, and beneath thy dwelling-place, and abide with thee all my life. Let my father go, and I will serve thee truly."

The girls of Kaffirland are early taught the strictest lessons of female propriety, and the sacrifice offered by Amakeya was greater than persons unacquainted with her ideas of right, would readily suppose. What passed further between herself and her astonished auditor was honorable to both, but particularly so to Colonel Glencairn. He did not misconstrue the motives of the poor Kaffir girl, he took no advantage of the position in which she had, not without due consideration, placed herself; so, gently, and with his usual honesty of purpose, he persuaded her to return to her father, as it was neither in Colonel Glencairn's power to give him back his "country" nor recommend his cause to the governor. Had the latter alternative been in his hands, his conscience would have been at issue with his will.

What passed in Amakeya's heart as she sat mute, silent, dejected, with her luminous eyes lifted up anxiously to Colonel Glencairn's face, the index of his candid heart, cannot well be imagined, and Colonel Glencairn in relating the incidents of the above story, forbore to dwell on the sentiments which brought the beauty of Kaffirland to his feet.

Macomo was condemned to be banished from the neighbourhood of the Amatola Mountains to Port Elizabeth, on the sea coast. He had merely forfeited his place in the green valley, but she-poor Amakeya! We may fancy her pausing on her journey, sitting down and gazing sorrowfully, and in some fear at that great sea from which those terrible red men came-terrible, but for thoughts of Glencairn. What knew she about the rights of nations? What could that child of nature think or understand of colonial boundaries, or political questions? From her infancy she had been taught to admire the boldest cattle stealer, and to scorn the young men who came back to the kraal empty-handed, or, who by their want of address, had betrayed themselves or others to the patrols of the roed batjes, for, in Kaffirland, to steal is creditable, but to be discovered, disgraceful. From the horrible deeds of witchcraft and torture she had always turned with loathing and dread. Terror was mingled with her disgust of the wizard Umycki, the leaden hand of a deadly superstition chained down her better reason, and all the instruction which circumstances occasionally afforded her from the missionary in the neighbourhood, had no effect in releasing her from the influences of an evil deeply rooted by custom, and, grievous to say, permitted in the very vicinity of a British garrison!

Sir Harry Smith has changed all this, uprooted it-and determined on reaping good fruit, will sow good seed and keep it free from evil influences and prejudiced experimentalists.

Ah, that mighty sea! and those waggons with white wings floating on the strange element. She had heard among the T'Slambie tribes beyond the Great Fish River, that when one of those sea waggons should make its

way into the mouth of the Buffalo river, Kaffirland should die ; she had believed it then, how fully she believes it now! To her Kaffirland is dead already her eyes are on the wide waters, but her thoughts are wandering in the valley and through the mimosa bushes of bright green, gazing down upon the little drift.

It was some months after the occurrence of the events which I have attempted to describe, that Sir Harry Smith, at a great assemblage of the congregated Kaffirs, proposed recalling Macomo. Not to re-instate him in his old location, but to place him with his tribe under the immediate surveillance of Colonel Somerset, commanding on the frontier of Southern Africa. Amakeya heard the intelligence with that air of real or assumed indifference for which her nation is remarkable. It was enough that she was not to return to the pleasant pasture grounds in the valley below the "Fairy's Rest."

A vessel lay at anchor at Algoa Bay, the harbour of Port Elizabeth. It was to bear Colonel Glencairn away, across that flood of sun-lighted waters to the far-off country which Amakeya had heard-almost unbelievingly—was so small, so crowded, and yet so powerful and so good. Bewildered and sorrowful she drew the folds of her heavy mantle* round her and retired from the sight of the ships, the unquiet, irregular, and busy town and its uncaring people-Glencairn was lost to her, and Kaffirland was dead!

THE TWO COATS.

BY CHARLES HERVEY, ESQ.

"Le paletot qui vole,

Qui va, qui vient, qui vole."

"A HUNDRED francs. coat."

LA CHAMBRE À DEUX LITS (slightly altered).

C'est trop. I'll give you seventy for the

If

"Impossible! a paletot cut out by Dusautoy, made for a Russian nobleman suddenly ordered off to St. Petersburg, and never worn! Monsieur will only examine the material, the very finest Sedan cloth, with cuffs and collar of real sable! Then the colour, neither chocolate nor marron, but something between the two, quite original, quite a paletot de fantasie! Voyons, for ready money we will say ninety francs, not one centime less."

While the customer is making up his mind whether he shall invest ninety francs in the purchase of the coat, or keep the said ninety francs. in his own pocket, we may as well say a few words respecting the locale where the above-reported conversation is going on; as we shall thereby not only render what is coming more intelligible to our readers, but also put them up to a "wrinkle" in Parisian life.

The dépôt in question is situated on the right hand side of the Place de la Bourse, looking from the Vaudeville theatre, and a little more than

The cloak worn by the Kaffir women combines utility with grace. Like the boddice it is made from the skin of an ox carefully dressed till it becomes quite soft. Between the shoulders is placed a strap studded with small brass buttons, and this depends from the collar to the edge of the cloak which is of ample dimensions.

half-way between the Rue Vivienne and the Rue Notre Dame des Victoires. It is au premier, and bears no external sign beyond the following request printed in black letters on the door,

TOURNEZ LE BOUFON, S. V. P.

This ceremony effected, the visitor finds himself in a small passage conducting to a spacious room, lined round with shelves from top to bottom, the said shelves groaning (in their own peculiarly inaudible fashion) beneath the weight of frock-coats, dress-coats, great-coats, cloaks, pardessus, paletots, huge white-caped and white-buttoned garments labelled "coachman," and every imaginable variety of tweed, twine, blouse, jacket and dressing-gown. Beside these are piles of waistcoats and trousers of every hue, shape, and texture, the more fashionable suits being especially put en évidence, and garnishing divers pegs and hooks scattered here and there about the room.

The proprietor of this warehouse is himself no tailor, nor is any tailoring work done on the premises, which are indirectly supplied from the leading establishments in Paris after the following fashion. It is a common practice with certain French lions, who, though not overburthened with cash, have, nevertheless, credit with some first-rate schneider, to order of the latter a suit of clothes, for which say 300 francs are charged. This suit is immediately sold to the marchand of the Place de la Bourse (or one of his confrères) for about half its value, and the proceeds are considered by the lion as money raised in a perfectly justifiable and legitimate manner. Thus an extensive wardrobe from the ateliers of Humann, Blin, Dusautoy, and, in fact, all the leading maitres tailleurs in Paris, is constantly on view, and as constantly in request; the patrons of these ready-made warehouses, where excellent articles are sold at a very reasonable rate, being extremely numerous.

But to return to our customer, who has by this time put on and paid for the much vaunted paletot.

"You can positively assure me," says he, "that this coat has never been worn."

"Très positivement," is of course the reply; and the pratique, being at length satisfied, abdicates in favour of somebody else.

Before proceeding further with our sketch, it may be as well to introduce to our readers in a rather more respectful and delicate manner than we have hitherto had an opportunity of doing, the contented owner of the half marron, half chocolate, paletot, M. Athanase Trumeau. He was, and had been for some years, a well-paid employé in a respectable commercial house; his salary enabling him not only to occupy a very snug little apartment au quatrième in the Rue du Paradis Poissonnière, but also to furnish the four pièces which composed the said apartment in a very natty manner. For nattiness was M. Trumeau's especial hobby; the parquet of his miniature salon was so exquisitely ciré, that it was as difficult to walk on as a sheet of ice; his books, though few in number, were neatly and uniformly bound; his papers were arranged with the most methodical exactness, nor was a speck of dust or dimness ever visible on the framed engravings which decorated his walls.

His personal appearance was equally soigné; though a determined bachelor, he was no woman-hater, and was far from having any objection to conter fleurette to any pretty girl he might fall in with. Rightly