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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Stop!" interrupted I. "Before you speak further, tell me how Mafuta came to know that I was on the way? I believed that my entry into Basutoland was unknown, and was wondering whether it would be better for me to see Moshesh in his kraal, or whether it would suffice for me to send a messenger with gifts. Perhaps you can tell me?"
Peace was made, and Sir George afterwards said of Moshesh, "I found him not only to be the most enlightened, but the most upright chief in South Africa, and one in whose good faith I put the most perfect confidence, and for whom, therefore, I have a sincere respect and regard." Moshesh died in 1870, and the policy he had initiated was carried on by his successor Masupha.
A more strange, more picturesque conference, bearing upon the well-being of the British Empire, surely never took place. Moshesh was propped up in his bed, his leading men grouped themselves round, and we talked. A fire burned in the place, a tallow candle or two spluttered, making lights and shadows as in a Rembrandt picture.
So might I have felt had I sat in the kraal of Moshesh or Lobengula or the great Msiligazi. Though the city about me was a modern city, and though quick-firers crowned its heights, here before me was something that was passing away. But I considered my audience, and told the President and his listening Boers that I was glad to meet a man who had stood up against the British Empire without fear.
I assumed that, as in the case of King Moshesh, a military uniform would prove the most acceptable gift that I could possibly offer a savage monarch; and upon examining my stock in trade I discovered that I possessed the complete uniform of a sergeant of hussars tunic, pelisse, trousers and boots combined, shako with red and white horsehair plume complete, and a sabre which, upon trial, seemed to fit me pretty well, if perhaps just a shade tight.
The velvet glove, fastening with the steel button, was gladly taken up by the chiefs, nor did they betray the Governor's confidence. His invasion of Moshesh, in this relation, was quite an exploit, for the old fellow was stern and wily. Sir George had brought about the cease fire, in a quarrel between the Basutos and the Boers.
"I'll take your seven to four, in tens," said I to the Baron. "Give me three," says he, "and done." I gave him three, and lost the game by one. "Dobbel, or quits," says he. "Go it," says I, up to my mettle: "Sam Coxe never says no;" and to it we went. I went in, and scored eighteen to his five. "Holy Moshesh!" says Abednego, "dat little Coxsh is a vonder! who'll take odds?"
The dispute was eventually amicably settled, but, incredible as it may seem, the Transvaal had actually sent five persons, headed by the notorious Karel Geere, to Moshesh, the Basuto chief, to prevail upon him to attack us, their kinsmen, in the rear!
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