she returned, seated herself upon a wooden stool.
Sechele now proceeded to question me, through the missionaries as interpreters, as to my own nationality, and the object of my journey. It was the case with him, as with most Bechuanas, that the only white men that he knew were Englishmen, whom he liked, and Boers, whom he did not like; and he was manifestly surprised when he learned that I belonged to neither of them. As soon as he thought he had got the word “Austria” impressed upon his memory, he inquired upon what river I resided, and whether I lived in a town or at a cattle-station, by which he meant in the country.
The name of Prague was another puzzle for him, and his surprise was still further increased when he heard that it was twenty times as large as Molopolole; his manner of expressing himself being that “his heart was full of wonder at the greatness of the village.”
Turning to his wife, he said,—“He is a nyaka (a doctor); he is not an Englishman; he is not a Boer; but—”
His memory had failed him, and he had to turn to the missionaries to be prompted. He caught the word Austrian, and, rising from his seat, stammered out,—
“Q-o-stri-en!”
Then, looking round, he smiled as if he had accomplished a prodigious feat.
At this moment a new comer appeared on the
