The Hostel
Potchefstroom
10.3.1903
Dear Lee
This is probably the last letter you’ll get from me here. I’m being transplanted to a farm school away in the wild of the Transvaal beyond Ventersdorp. Ventersdorp is five hours from here and our place of abode is three hours (by cart) further on. As we’ll be making the journey in an ox wagon the trip will probably be 8 days instead of 8 hours. A man told me today that the country abounds in lions, baboons & tiger-snakes and he advised me to take some salt to put on the tails of the vultures that hover round waiting for any scraps of me that may be left after the lions had his whack. The people are all Dutch so all I'll be able to say when I get back is “Ja” “Ja” which being interpreted is “yah yah”. When you come to meet me next August look out for a stately female in flowing garments of lion skin with tails trailing gracefully in the rear and necklace & bangles of the claws & teeth of the same noble animal. Following me will be a few baboons & possibly a rhinoceros or even a giraffe or two. I’ll have forgotten how to talk any language but that of the baboon so they’ll need to label me. Miss Eddie goes with me & we’ll live in a marquee. They all tell us we’ll have an awfully good time. The settlers are so anxious to have their children taught that they just bow down to the teachers. And promise anything if we’ll only come. Several of the town teachers are going out to different places. The only thing I’m mad at is that Miss Young and I are separated. We’ve been such pals all through. Miss Eddie is very nice but I like old Youngie best. We’re always together.
Miss Young and I were out walking by the river a few days ago. Being tired we sat down to rest under the shade of a quince hedge. She was reading aloud while I gazed on the scenery. Presently my greedy eye fell on a luscious quince. I grabbed it and was just having a first bite when we were startled by a roar and the infuriated owner of the garden rushed towards us brandishing a stick and swearing large oaths. We fled. Plum leading, clutching the book in one hand her skirts in the other. I followed gasping, my short legs being quite unequal to the Young stride. The old chap bringing up the rear. Plum, in her wild career fell into the water furrow. I hauled her out mud to the waist. He nearly had us then but an African arrived & set on to him with a strap. Just at that moment a crowd of our school boys, who were bathing in the river, caught sight of the chase. They rushed to the rescue. Most of them in nature’s dress, others hurrying into pants as they ran. They took to him properly, many of them having back debts of their own. We escaped round the corner. We shall wander no more by the river now. All the quinces are done at any rate. That’s the first man who has ventured to object to our stealing his fruit.
Fancy the Hack’s gold mine. I hope it’s alright. They’ve been grafting long enough.
The animals – horses & mules are dying in shoals of a disease known as “lung sickness”. It’s a yearly affair. All those belonging to the military have to be in stables by 6.30 so our drives are cut short. Any of the men who come out after that hour have to travel per donkey. It’s dead funny to see the grand officers, who awhile ago rode the most splendid horses, mounted on donkeys.
Have the Campbells* come yet? There’s a man here who’s the dead image of Colin. May will be nearly grown up.
Write to the same address. The letters will be forwarded.
Good bye. Think of me shooting lions. You know I have a revolver. As it’s only 4 or 5 inches long am afraid I shan’t do very much damage.
Mag.
*I presume the Campbells Margaret refers to are the family of her eldest sister's husband. Margaret's eldest sister, Isabella Ferguson McInnes, married a William Colin Campbell. It seems likely this is the Colin Campbell in the letter. Their eldest son Robert Colin Campbell born 1896 was known as Colin but I should think it's the father Margaret is refering to. Colin junior served with the 32nd AIF and was wounded at the Battle of Fromelles on 20 July 1916. He survived the war. Margaret went on to marry Bruce Campbell. He was not related to the family of her elder sister.
