The reminiscences set down in this volume have been published serially in The State of South Africa, in a more or less abridged form, under the title of &quot;Unconventional Reminiscences.&quot; They are mainly autobiographical. This has been inevitable; in any narrative based upon personal experience, an attempt to efface oneself would tend to weaken vitality. Having lived for upwards of forty-five years in South Africa usually in parts remote from those settled areas which have attained a measure of civilization and having been a wide wanderer in my early days, it has been my fortune to witness many interesting events and to be brought into contact with many strong men. Occasionally, as in the case of the earlier discoveries of gold and diamonds, I have drifted, a pipkin among pots, close to the centre around which the immediate interests of the country seemed to revolve.<br />The period mainly dealt with is that magical one when South Africa unnoted and obscure was startled from the simplicity of her bucolic life by the discovery of gold and diamonds. This was, of course, some years before the fountains of her boundless potential wealth had become fully unsealed. I was one of that band of light-hearted, haphazard pioneers who, rejoicing in youthful energy and careless of their own interests, unwittingly laid the foundation upon which so many great fortunes have been built.<br />An ancient myth relates how the god Dionysus decreed that everything touched by Midas, the Phrygian king, should turn into gold, but the effect was so disastrous that Midas begged for a reversal of the decree. The prayer was granted, conditionally upon the afflicted king bathing in the River Pactolus.<br />South Africa may, in a sense, be paralleled with Midas both as regards the bane of gold and the antidote of bathing but her Pactolus has been one of blood.<br />Midas again got into trouble by, refusing to adjudge in the matter of musical merit between Pan and Apollo, and this time was punished by having his ears changed into those of an ass. Our choice lies before us; may we avoid the ass&#39;s ears by boldly making a decision. May we evade a worse thing by unhesitatingly giving our award in favor of Apollo.<br />With this apologia I submit my humble gleanings from fields on which no more the sun will shine, to the indulgent sympathy of readers.<br /><br />W. C. Scully<br /><br />PORT ELIZABETH, SOUTH AFRICA, January, 1913.<br /><br /><b>William Charles Scully </b>(29 October 1855 &ndash; 25 August 1943) is one of <b>South Africa</b>&#39;s best-known authors, although little known outside South Africa. In addition to his work as an author, his paid work was principally as a magistrate in Springfontein, South Africa, as well as in Namaqualand and the Transkei. His last position before retirement was as Chief Magistrate of Port Elizabeth, one of South Africa&#39;s larger cities. He organised the building of &quot;New Brighton&quot;, a township for aboriginal African people in Port Elizabeth. At the time it was regarded as very progressive&mdash;a pleasant place to live.