Kafir Stories | Page 8

striking experiences, but it was too
deeply ingrained in his character ever to disappear. Experience after
experience faded out of his memory, but the fundamental axiom
remained. These experiences he, so to say, preached away, for
whenever he found the fundamental axiom waxing dim, he polished it
up with a liberal administration of theological logic, abstruse reasoning,
and illustrations from standard authorities.
Samuel Gozani, the probationer, was in several respects a remarkable
character. Son of a native headman of the Gealeka tribe, which
considers itself as forming, as it were, the Kafir aristocracy; he had,
fourteen years previously, been placed at the mission school. For six
years he was as backward in acquirement as he was unsatisfactory and

troublesome in conduct. But a change came. A native revivalist visited
the mission, and, behold--a shaking! Amongst the dry bones that
moved, none showed so much energy as Samuel. His whole life
changed, and he at once declared his intention of entering the ministry.
He took to theological study with the greatest avidity, and for several
years was looked upon as the coming man of the mission. Suddenly he
again changed; his moral conduct remained free from reproach, but his
faculty for serious study appeared to have left him. He brooded deeply,
taught the junior pupils in an irregular and, on the whole, very
perfunctory manner, and seemed to be consumed by a deep and abiding
sadness. It was afterwards noticed that this change dated from about a
year after Miss Blake had taken up her residence at the mission.
Samuel possessed A rich, full baritone voice, and he seemed to regain
his old vigour and enthusiasm only on those occasions when he sang in
the choir. There his voice rang out clear above the others as he led; his
eye flashed, and his countenance lit up. He was a tall and strongly built
man, with a face unlike the usual Kafir type. His lips were thin, his
nose narrow and prominent, and his eyes large and somewhat
protruding. In point of physiognomy, he somewhat resembled a North
American Indian.
III.
It was on a warm night in late Spring that Miss Elizabeth Blake sat
under the verandah which ran along the whole front of the mission
house. A slight thunderstorm had just passed, and another was
following on its trail. Summer lightnings were gleaming through the
soft haze, and distant thunders muttered from time to time. Brown,
furry beetles dashed themselves violently against the windows of the
dining-room, where a lamp still burned, and the pneumoras wailed their
melancholy love-songs from the willow trees along the water-furrow.
The junior teacher was seeing her charges to bed, for prayers were just
over, and Miss Blake was enjoying a few moments' rest in the mild air
before taking up her task of preparing the next day's work. The
missionary and his wife were away, visiting at the next-neighbouring
mission, and were not expected back until the following afternoon.

Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, Miss Blake looked round,
and saw Samuel Gozani approaching. He came slowly up the steps, and
stood silently before her, leaning against one of the verandah poles.
"Good evening, Samuel," she said.
"Good evening, Miss Elizabeth; you do not often take a rest."
"I seldom have time."
Samuel remained silent, and the girl regarded him intently. She had
long noticed his demeanour, and had often wondered as to what was on
his mind.
"Samuel," she said, sympathetically, "why have you been so strange of
late? Is anything the matter with you?"
Samuel cleared his throat as if to speak, shifted his feet, but said
nothing.
"Do you not know," she continued, "that your class is going backward,
that you often forget to set the lessons, and that half the time you are
teaching you appear as if you do not know what you are doing? Tell me,
is there anything on your mind? Have you done anything you are sorry
for?"
Samuel again cleared his throat, shifted his feet, and with an evident
effort replied:
"I have not committed any sin, but I know my work is done badly. My
heart is so heavy that I can hardly bear the weight."
"What is this heaviness?"
Samuel did not reply, but after a pause asked this question:
"Miss Elizabeth, do you believe that all men, white and black, are
equal?"

The girl paused for a moment. In her heart of hearts she knew she did
not think so, but the fundamental axiom weighed heavily on her, the
well-worn arguments of the missionary arose and threatened her,
pointing with skinny fingers at the abyss which lay in the road of the
opposite view, so she muffled her answer up carefully in a platitude,
and handed it to her hearer, trusting that the muffler would