From the Personal
Reference Library of

PAUL IVES

ALBERT R. MANN
LIBRARY

New YorK STATE COLLEGES
OF
AGRICULTURE AND HoME ECONOMICS

AT

CORNELL UNIVERSITY

THE GIFT OF
PAUL POMEROY IVES 2D
IN MEMORY OF
PAUL POMEROY IVES

“Date Vue

Library Bureau Cat. No. 1137

Cornell University

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CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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HOME LIFE

ON AN

OSTRICH FARM.

~

*‘dOOA UOT SHAAVAT UVAI-ATMOMd HLIM LUV GNV ‘SHHOIULSO AO doouL

Ibome Life on an
Ostrich Farm

BY
ANNIE MARTIN

WITH TEN ILLUSTRATIONS

NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

1891
RET

Authorized Edition.

To T. M.

IN REMEMBRANCE OF OUR SOUTH AFRICAN LIFE.

PREFACE.

tJ

Some portions of the chapters on “ Ostriches” and
“Bobby ” have already appeared, in an abridged form,
in the Saturday Review. Part of the chapter on
“The Climate of the Karroo” has also appeared in the
St. James's Gazette.

By the kind permission of the editors of both papers

I am now enabled to reprint these pages.

A. M.

CONTENTS.

Car:

CHAPTER I,
PORT ELIZABETIL AND WALMER, PAGE

Early ambitions realized—Voyage to South Africa—Cape Town and

Wynberg—Profusion of flowers—Port Elizabeth—Christmas

decorations — Public library — Malays — Walmer — Hottentot

huts — Our little house — Pretty gardens — Honey-suckers—

Flowers of Walmer Common—Wax-creeper—Ixias—Scarlet

heath—Natal lilies—“ Upholstery flower ”—Ticks—Commence

ostrich-farming—Counting the birds—A ride after an ostrich 9

CHAPTER II,
SOME OF OUR PETS,

Friendliness of South African birds and beasts—Our secretary bird
—Ungainly appearance of Jacob—His queer ways—Tragic fate
of akitten—A persecuted fowl—Our Dikkops—A baby buffalo
—Wounded buffalo more dangerous than lion—A lucky stumble
—Hunter attacked by “rogue” buffalo—A midnight ride—
Followed by a lion—Toto—A pugnacious goose—South African
climate dangerous to imported dogs—Toto and the crows—
Animals offered by Moors in exchange for Toto aes eee 25

CHAPTER ITI.
PLANTS OF THE KARROO.

We move up-country—Situation of farm—Strange vegetation of
Karroo district—Kurroo plant—Fer-bosch—Brack-bosch—Our
flowers —Spekboom— Bitter aloes—Thorny plants—Wacht-cen-
Beetje—Ostriches killed by prickly pear—Finger-poll—Wild
tobacco fatal to ostriches—Carelessness of colonists—Euphor-
bias—Candle-bush vee on ry eT vee 46

CHAPTER IV.
OUR LITTLE HOME,

Building operations—A plucking—Ugliness of Cape houses—Our
rooms—Fountain in sitting-room a failure—Drowned pets—
Decoration of rooms—Colonist must be Jack-of-all-trades—
Cape waggons—Shooting expeditions—Strange tale told by
Boer eis sis ais aa a ah be we 6Y

vi

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER V.

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO.

Cape Colony much abused —Healthy climate—Wonderful cures of

consumption—Karroo a good place for sanatorium—Rarity of
illness and accidents—The young colonist—An independent
infant—Long droughts—Hot winds—Dust storms—Dams—
Advantage of possessing good wells—Partiality of thunder-
storms— Delights of a brack roof —Washed out of bed—After
the rain—Our horses—Effects of rain indoors—Opslaag—The
Cape winter—What to wear on Karroo farms ... wee ass

CHAPTER VI.

OSTRICHES,

An unwilling ride—First sight of an ostrich farm—Ridiculous

mistakes about ostriches—Decreased value of birds and feathers
—Chicks—Plumage of ostriches—A frightened ostrich—The
plucking-box—Sorting feathers—Voice of the ostrich—Savage
birds—‘ Not afraid of a dicky-bird !’—Quelling an ostrich—
Birds killed by men in self-defence—Nests—An undutiful hen
—Darby and Joan—A disconsolate widower—A hen-pecked
husband—Too much zeal—Jackie—Cooling the eggs—The
white-necked crow— Poisoning jackals—Ostrich eggs in the
kitchen—A quaint old writer on ostriches—A suppliant bird
—Nest destroyed by enraged ostrich—An old bachelor _

CHAPTER VII.

OSTRICHES (continued),

Vagaries of an incubator—Hatching the chicks—A bad egg—

Human foster mothers—Chicks difficult to rear—“ Yellow-
liver”—Cruel boys—Chicks herded by hen ostrich—Visit to
Boer’s house—A carriage full of ostriches—“ The melancholy
Jaques ”—Ostriches at sea—A stampede—Runaway birds—
Branding—Stupidity of ostriches—Accidents—Waltzing and
fighting—Ostrich soup—An expensive quince—A_ feathered
Tantalus—Strange things swallowed by ostriches—A court-
martial—The ostrich, or the diamond?—A visit to the Zoo ...

PAGE

72

98

130

CONTENTS. vii

CHAPTER VIIL.
MEERKATS. PAGE

Meerkats plentiful in the Karroo—Their appearance—Intelligence—

Fearlessness—Friendship for dogs—A meerkat in England—

Meerk:t an inveterate thief—An owl in Tangier—Taming full-

grown meerkat—Tiny twins—A sad accident— Different char-

acters of meerkats—'l'he turkey-herd—Bob and the meerkat—

“The Mouse”... ose ote see si soa wee 157

CHAPTER IX.
BOBBY,

Bobby’s babyhood—Insatiable appetite—Variety of noises made by
Bobby—His tameness—Narrow escape from drowning—A
warlike head-gear—Bobby the worse for drink—His love of
mischief--He disarms his master—Meerkat persecuted by
Bobby—Bobby takes to dishonest ways—He becomes a prisoner
—His clever tricks—Death of Bobby ... set ves se 170

CHAPTER xX.
OUR SERVANTS.

A retrospective vision—Phillis in her domain—Her destructiveness
—Her ideas on personal adornment—The woes of a mistress—
Eye-service —Abrupt departure of Phillis-—Left in the lurch—
Nancy and her successors--Cure of sham sickness—The thiel’s
dose — Our ostrich-herd—A bride purchased with cows—
English and natives at the Cape—Character of Zulus and
Kaffirs eee oe as a8 oe its as wee 182

CHAPTER XL
HOW WE FARED.

Angora goats —Difficulty of keeping meat—The plague of flies—
Rations—Our store—Barter — Fowls — Chasing a dinner —
Fowls difficult to rear—Secretary birds as guardians of the
poultry-yard—Jacob in the Karroo—He comes down in the
world—He dies—Antelopes—A springbok hunt—he Queen’s
birthday in the Karroo—Colonial dances—Our klipspringer—
Superstition about hares—Game birds— Paauw—Knorhaan—
Namaqua partridges—Porcupines—A short-lived pet—Indian
corn—Stamped mealies—Whole-meal bread —Plant used for
making bread rise—Substitutes for butter—/riembesjes—A
useful tree—Wild honey—The honey-bird—Enemies of bees
—Moth in bees’ nests—Good coffee—Sour milk oss ees 203

viii

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XII.
KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES.

Leopard drowned in well—Baboons—Egyptian sacred animals on

Cape farms —“ Adonis” —A humiliating retreat —A baby
baboon—Clever tricks performed by baboons—Adonis as a
Voorlooper—A four-handed pointsman—Sarah—A baboon at
the Diamond Fields— Adonis’s shower-bath — His love of
stimulants—His revengeful disposition—Pelops the dog-headed
—Horus— Aasvogels—Goat-sucker—The butcher-bird’s larder
—Nest of the golden oriole—The kapok-bird—Snakes in
houses—A puff-adder under a pillow—Puff-adder most dan-
gerous of Cape snakes—Cobras—Schaapsticker—Ugly house-
lizards—Dassie-adder—The dassie the coney of Scripture—
Stung by a scorpion—Fight between tarantula and centipede
—Destructive ants—The Jardvaark, or ant-bear—Ignominious
flight of a sentry—Ant-lion—Walking-leaves—The Hottentot
god—A mantis at a picnic Ste a at aes eas

CHAPTER XIII.
OUR NFIGHBOURS.

Hospitality of Cape colonists—Cheating and jealousy in business

— Comfortless homes — Spoilt children — Education — The
“ Schoolmaster ”—Convent schools—A priest-ridden nation—
The Nachimaal—Old French names—A South African duke
in Paris— Fine-looking men—Fat women —lIgnorance of
Vrouws—Boers unfriendly to English—A mean man .., eos

CHAPTER XIV.
GOOD-BYE.

Recalled to England—Regrets and farewells—Cape horses lacking

in intelligence—“Old Martin”—A chapter of accidents—A
horse “after Velasquez”—The Spy’s revenge—Virtues and
faults of Cape horses—Horse-sickness— Good-bye to Swaylands
—Kaffir crane—The voyage home—Dogs in durance—St.
Helena—A visit to Longwood—Home again ..,

eee eee

PAGB

237

277

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

I.—Troop of Ostriches and Cart, with Prickly-
Pear Leaves for food... tte sie Frontispiece.

Il.—1. Jacob, 2. Toto ... sig ei ... Facing page 26

Ill.—Some of the best kinds of Ostrich-bush :—

1, Brack-bosch, 2, Ghanna, 3. Fei-bosch. » 48
IV.—Our Sitting-room tee ene os ee ” 66
V.— Ostriches ina Hot Wind eee ee ag 7 80
VI.—Ostrich-chicks tes on on one ” 104

VII.—1. Ostrich-chick (Photographed from case in
Stanley and African Exhibition)—

2. Ostriches meditating Escape through de-
fective fence o- ie one tee ” 150

VIIL—A Meerkat... on a wes roe 5 158

HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

CHAPTER I.
PORT ELIZABETH AND WALMER,

Early ambitions realized—Voyage to South Africa—Cape Town and
Wynberg—Profusion of flowers— Port Elizabeth—Christmas deco-
rations—Public library—Malays—Walmer—Hottentot huts—Our
little house—Pretty gardens—Honey-suckers—Flowers of Walmer
Common —Wax-creeper—Ixias — Scarlet heath— Natal lilies —
“Upholstery flower ’—Ticks—Commence ostrich-farming—Count-
ing the birds—A ride after an ostrich.

In the year 1881, leaving our native land wrapped in
the cold fogs of November, my husband and I started
for South Africa; where if was the intention of the
former to resume the occupation of ostrich-farming,
engaged in which he had already spent many years in
the Cape Colony. It was my first visit to South Africa,
and I was looking forward with great pleasure to the
realization of a very early wish; for the adventures of
settlers in far-off lands had always from childhood
been my favourite reading, and I had become firmly
convinced that a colonial life would suit me better
than any other. Nor have I been disappointed; but,

Io HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM,

looking back now on our life in South Africa, I can
truthfully say that, though certainly lacking in ad-
venture, it has—unlike many things long wished for
and attained at last—in no way fallen short of my
expectations.

The few hours we spent at Madeira were unfortu-
nately during the night; and the beautiful island I
was so longing to see remained hidden from view
in a most tantalizing manner, without even the moon-
light to give us some faint outline of its far-famed
loveliness.

After a safe, but most uneventful voyage, enlivened
by no more stirring incidents than the occasional
breaking down of the engines, we at last looked up
at the glories of Table Mountain, and came suddenly
into summer ; enjoying the flowers and bright sunshine
of Cape Town all the more after the dreary weather
we had left in England. We landed, and spent a few
very pleasant days at the pretty suburb of Wynberg,
from whence we took several beautiful drives. On
one occasion we left the carriage, and walked over such
a carpet of lovely and bright-coloured wild flowers
as I have only once seen equalled, when riding some
years before through Palestine and Syria. At the end
of five minutes we stopped, and counted all the different
sorts we had gathered, finding twenty-eight.

Another day we collected a number of leaves of the
silver tree, which is found only on Table Mountain.
The long, pointed leaves seem made of the glossiest
pale-grey satin; you can write and paint on their soft

PORT ELIZABETH AND WALMER, Ir

surface, and numbers of them are for sale in the Cape
Town shops, adorned with highly-coloured pictures of
Table Mountain, steamers going at full speed, groups of
flowers, Christmas good wishes, etc. We preferred,
however, when enclosing the leaves in our letters home,
to send them in all their native beauty, and with no
clumsy human attempts at improvement.

The beautiful plumbago is one of the most common
plants, and many of the hedges about Wynberg con-
sist entirely of it; the masses of its delicate blue-grey
flowers forming as graceful a setting for the pretty,
neatly-kept gardens as can well be imagined.

We were quite sorry when the time came for going
back to our steamer, Port Elizabeth being our destina-
tion. We landed there a few days before Christmas ;
and, soon after our arrival, walked out to Walmer to
call on friends, whom we found busily engaged in deco-
rating the little church. Their materials consisted
simply of magnificent blue water-lilies—evidently the
sacred blue lotus of the ancient Egyptians, with the
sculptured representations of which they are identical
—and large, pure white arums, or, as the colonists
unromantically call them, “ pig-lilies;” both being
among the commonest of wild flowers about Walmer.
These, with a few large fern-fronds, and the arum’s
own glossy leaves, formed the loveliest Christmas deco-
ration I have ever seen.

There is not much to see in Port Elizabeth ; indeed,
it is rather uglier than the generality of colonial towns,
built simply pe business, and with no thought of the

12 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

picturesque—and what few attempts at ornament have
been made are rather disfiguring than otherwise. On
a bare hill above the town there is a conspicuous
monument, the builders of which appear to have been
long undecided as to whether it should be a small
pyramid or large obelisk; the result being an ugly
compromise between the two. Another work of art,
more nearly approaching the obelisk form, but equally
far from the Egyptian model both in its shape and in
the designs which decorate it, stands in the market-
place, in front of the town hall. This latter was by
far the best-looking building in Port Elizabeth, until,
a few years ago, its appearance was completely spoilt
by the addition of an ugly and ponderous clock-tower,
quite out of proportion to the rest of the structure,
which it seems threatening to crush with its over-
powering size and weight. The interior of the town
hall, however, compensates for its outward deficiencies ;
for it contains a most excellent public library, plenti-
fully supplied with books of all kinds, newspapers,
and magazines, in two comfortable and well-arranged
rooms. It would be well indeed if England would take
a lesson from the Cape Colony in this respect ; for in all
the smaller towns which we visited, ¢.e., Cradock, Graaff-
Reinet, Uitenhage, ete., we found good public libraries.
There is a good club in Port Elizabeth, and several
hotels, all of which we have tried at different times,
finding the Standard (Main Street), though small and
of unpretending exterior, by far the most comfortable.
A little way out of the town there is a very good

PORT ELIZABETH AND WALMER,. 13

botanical garden, with a large conservatory, containing
many beautiful palms, tree-ferns, and other tropical
plants.

The Malays are the most picturesque feature of Port
Elizabeth ; and their bright-coloured Eastern dresses,
and the monotonous chant of the priest announcing
the hours of prayer from the minaret of the mosque,
form a pleasing contrast to the surrounding everyday
sights and sounds. Like most other Orientals, they
are perfect artists in their appreciation of colour ; and,
fortunately, they are still old-fashioned enough not yet
to have adopted the hideous coal-tar dyes with which
Europe has demoralized the taste of some of their
brethren in Cairo and Algiers. On Fridays, when all
are wearing their best, you often see the most beautiful
materials, and the. loveliest combinations of colour;
especially in the flowing robes of the priests, the tints
of which always harmonize perfectly. Thus, for
instance, you will see an outer garment of turquoise
blue, worn over an inner one of “old gold;” delicate
salmon colour over soft creamy white; rich orange in
combination with the deepest maroon ; with an infinite
variety of other lovely tints, any of which a painter
might covet for his studio. The Malays often wear as
turbans some of the beautiful sarongs of Java, which
are simply ordinary calico, painted by hand with a few
good colours, and in the most artistic designs ; of course
there are never two alike, and in these days of machine-
made sameness they are refreshing to behold. Some
of the men wear immense hats, made of palm leaves

14 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

very firmly and solidly plaited, and tapering to a point ;
they are made to fit the head by means of a small
crown fixed inside, very like that of a college cap.

The Malay women, instead of gliding about veiled to
the eyes, like their Mohammedan sisters in other parts
of the world, wear the quaint costume which was the
fashion among the Dutch women at the time when the
Malay race first came as slaves to the Cape. The waist
of the dress is extremely short; and the long and
voluminous skirts, of which an infinite number seem to
be worn, commence close under the arms, spreading out,
stiffly starched and spotlessly clean, to dimensions
rivalling those of the old hooped petticoats. The good-
natured brown faces are most unbecomingly framed by
bright-coloured silk handkerchiefs tightly bound under
the chin, somewhat after the fashion of the Algerian
Jewesses—giving the wearers an appearance of per-
petual toothache. Many of the women wear noisy
wooden clogs; kept from parting company with the
bare feet by nothing but a kind of large button,
curiously ornamented, projecting between the two first
toes.

In the early days of slavery, when the Malays were
brought up in the Dutch families, nearly all were
Christians ; and even so recently as when Sir Bartle
Frere was governor there were comparatively few
among them who could read the Koran. During the
last few years, however, Mohammedanism has been
rapidly gaining ground everywhere—the great uni-
versity of E] Azhar in Cairo, especially, training thou-

PORT ELIZABETH AND WALMER, 15

sands of students to go out as emissaries into all parts
of the East to make converts—and the Malays, in
constantly increasing numbers, are embracing the creed
of Islam. Many of them now save up their money
for the pilgrimage to Mecca, which is their great
ambition. They are very ignorant; and their Moham-
medan fatalism, prejudicing them against all sanitary
precautions—especially vaccination—adds very much
to the difficulty of contending with small-pox and other
epidemics when they appear. In 1882, when there
was so severe an outbreak of small-pox in Cape Town
and other parts of the colony, the Malays not only
opposed all attempts made by the authorities to isolate
cases, but did all in their power to spread the disease ;
many of them being found throwing infected clothing
into houses.

After staying about a week in the town, we went
out to live at Walmer, which is by far the pleasantest
part of all the surroundings of Port Elizabeth, and
which deserves to be more generally chosen as a
residence by the wealthier inhabitants. It stands high,
in a most healthy situation, and full in the path of that
rough but benevolent south-east wind, which, owing to
its kindly property of sweeping away the germs of
disease, is called “the Cape doctor.” Away beyond
Walmer stretch miles of undulating common, covered
with short bush and numberless varieties of wild
flowers; and a breezy walk across part of this same
common leads to Port Elizabeth. The walk is rather a
long one; and often, before the arrival of our little

16 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

“spider ” from America, it would have been a comfort,
after a long day in town, to avail ourselves of one of
the numerous hired carriages for the return journey,
were not the drivers of these vehicles so exorbitant in
their charges as almost to rival those of New York.
They demand ten shillings for the drive to Walmer,
taking the passenger only one way; and this too often
in a vehicle so near the last stage of dilapidation as to
suggest fears of the final collapse occurring on the road.
The importunity of the drivers is most troublesome ;
and when, in spite of their efforts, you remain obdurate,
and they fail to secure you as a “fare,” they do their
best to run over you, hoping no doubt that they may
thus at least have a chance of driving you to the
hospital. Their cab-stand, where, like a row of vultures,
they sit waiting for their prey, is on the market-place ;
and as you cross the latter, bound for the reading-room,
with ears deaf to their shouts, and eyes resolutely fixed
on the door of the town hall, leaving no doubt as to your
intention not to take a drive, the whole rank move
forward in a simultaneous charge; pursuing and sur-
rounding you with artful strategic movements and
demoniac cries, and with so evident an intention to
knock you down if possible, that when at last you stand
safe on the town hall steps, you realize the feelings of
Tam O’Shanter on gaining “the keystane of the brig.”

On the common, about half-way between Port
Elizabeth and Walmer, there is a little group of
Hottentot huts, shaped like large bee-hives, and made
of the strangest building-material I ever saw, 7.¢, a

PORT ELIZABETH AND WALMER. 17

thick mass of the oldest and filthiest rags imaginable,
How they hold together has always been a mystery to
me; for they flap and flutter ominously in the almost
incessant wind, and seem threatening to wing their
way across the common and invade the verandahs and
gardens of Walmer. Although I have ventured into
a good many queer human habitations in different
parts of the world, I have never felt inclined to
explore the interior of one of these huts, which look
as forbidding as their ugly, yellow-skinned inmates.
There is no window, no proper outlet for smoke, no
room for any one of average figure to stand upright,
and the hole which serves as a door is much too low
for any more dignified entrance than on all fours—
an attitude which, though quite worth while when
threading the passages of the Great Pyramid, would
hardly be repaid by the sight of the Hottentot in his
home; and by the possible acquaintance of creeping,
crawling and hopping legions. Numbers of dirty,
monkey-like children, and ugly, aggressive dogs of
the pariah type, swarm round these huts; the dogs
often taking the trouble to pursue the passer-by a:
long distance on his way, irritating his horse and him-
self by their clamour, and always keeping just out of
reach of the whip.

With the exception of the few remaining Bushmen,
the Hottentots are the ugliest and most degraded of
all the South African natives. The Kaffirs are much
pleasanter to look at, some of the young girls being
rather nice-looking, with graceful, figures, on which

18 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

blankets of a beautiful artistic terra-cotta colour are
draped in folds worthy of an Arab burnous. Occasion-
ally some of the red ochre with which the blankets are
coloured is daubed over the face and head, the effect
being rather startling. The slender, bronze-like arms
are often completely hidden from wrist to elbow by a
long spirally-twisted brass wire, looking like a succes-
sion of the thinnest bangles quite close together.

We found a comfortable little furnished house at
Walmer, in which we spent the first five months after
our arrival. It was just a convenient size for our small
party, consisting, besides my husband and myself, of
our two English servants, and Toto, a beautiful collie.
The rooms were all on the ground floor; shaded, and
indeed almost darkened, by a broad verandah running
the whole length of the front. This absence of suffi-
cient light in nearly all colonial houses strikes the
new-comer unpleasantly ; but one gets used to it, and
in the heat and strong glare of the Cape summer the
darkened rooms are restful and comforting. At one
end of our verandah we made a little fernery, which
we kept green and bright with trophies brought home
from some of our longer walks and rides—also an
aviary, the little inhabitants of which kept up a
constant chorus, always pleasant to hear, and never
loud enough to be troublesome, The Cape canary is
a greenish bird, with a very pretty soft note, quite
different from the piercing screech of his terrible yellow
brother in English homes. Another soft-voiced little
singer is the rooibeck, or red-beak, a wee thing very

PORT ELIZABETH AND WALMER, 19

like an avadavat; a few goldfinches completed our col-
lection, and all were very tame and happy in their
little home. The broad leaves of two fine banana-
plants shaded birds and ferns from the sun, which
otherwise would have beaten in on them too fiercely
through the window of the verandah. A banana-plant
is a delightful thing to cultivate; it grows so rapidly,
and is so full of health and strength ; and the unfold-
ing of each magnificent leaf is a new pleasure.

We were within a short walk of our friends’ house ;
and during the frequent absences of T ,my husband,
often away for several weeks at a time while search-
ing in different parts of the country for a suitable
farm, it was very pleasant for me to have kind neigh-
bours so near, and a bright welcome always awaiting
me. Their garden was a large and beautiful one, and
its luxuriance of lovely flowers, roses especially, gave
ample evidence of their mistress’s own care and love
for them. Nearly all the houses in Walmer have good
gardens, enclosed by the prettiest of hedges, sometimes
of pomegranate, plumbago, or passion flowers, but most
often of tall American aloes, round the sweet flowers
of which the pretty honey-suckers—magnified hum-
ming-birds, substantial instead of insect-like—are con-
tinually hovering, their jewelled dresses of green, red,
and yellow flashing in the sun at every turn of their
rapid flight. Close under the hedge, and shadel by
the aloe’s blue-green spikes, the white arums grow in
the thickest profusion. No dining-table in Walmer
need be without a simple and beautiful decoration, for

20 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

if there is no time for a ramble in search of flowers on
the surrounding common, you need only run out and
pick a few arums from the nearest hedge or small
stream ; and a few of them go a long way.

But the treasures of the common are endless; and
first and loveliest among them all is the little “ wax-
creeper,” * than which, tiny as it is, I do not think a
more perfect flower could be imagined. It is as modest
as a little violet; and you have to seek it out in its
hiding-places under the thick foliage of the bushes,
round the stems of which it twines so tightly that it
is a work of some time to disentangle it. You also
get many scratches during the process, for it loves to
choose as its protectors the most prickly plants; but
when at last you hold the delicate wreath in your
hands, and look into its minute beauties—the graceful
curves of the slender stalk and tendrils, no two of
which ever grow alike; the long, narrow, dark-green
leaves; and the clusters of brilliant, carmine-tinted
flowers, each like a tiny, exquisitely-shaped vase cut
out in glistening wax—you are amply rewarded, It is
indeed one of the masterpieces of nature, and the first
sight of it was a pleasure I can never forget.

This little flower does not bear transplanting. We
often tried to domesticate it in our garden, but the
plants invariably died. It was quite the rarest of all
our flowers. We have never seen it anywhere but about
Walmer, and there it grows only in small patches; five

* Microloma lineare,

PORT ELIZABETH AND WALMER. 21

or six plants close together, and then perhaps no more
of them to be seen during the whole of a long walk.

Another of our favourites was the aantblom, a kind
of ixia, whose lovely flowers range through all possible
shades of rose-colour and orange, from the deepest to
the palest tints of pink and yellow, down to the purest
white, <A large bouquet of nothing but these delicate,
fragile-looking blossoms, each one of a different shade,
brought to us by some little neighbours soon after our
arrival, was a delightful surprise. So also was the first
finding of the sweet Cape jessamine growing wild; but
this is one of the rarer plants.

Then there is the scarlet heath; its cluster of large,
velvet-like flowers so vivid in colouring as to look like
a flame of fire when the sun comes glancing through it.
It is the most beautiful of all the Cape heaths, numer-
ous and lovely as they are—though a delicately-shaded
pink and white one comes very near it in beauty.
The blue lobelias grow profusely all over the common ;
they are much larger and finer than those in English
gardens, and are of the deepest ultra-marine, only a
few here and there being a very pretty pale blue.
Occasionally—but this is very rare—you find a pure
white lobelia. Another flower of our home gardens,
the gazania, is very plentiful, the ground being every-
where studded with its large, bright orange-coloured
stars,

Pink and white immortelles, gladioli, ixias, and irises
of all kinds abound; some of the latter are tiny
specimens, yet they are pencilled with all the same

22 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

delicate lines as the larger sorts, though on so sinall a
scale that you almost need a magnifying glass to enable
you to see all their beauties. Then there are the Natal
lilies, growing in large round clusters, each in itself
sufficient to fill a flower-vase ; you have but to break
a thick, succulent stem, and a perfect, ready-made
bouquet of pink, sweet-scented flowers is in your hand,

Some of the plants about Walmer are more curious
than beautiful ; one especially—which, not knowing its
real name,* we called “ the upholstery flower ”—is like
an enormous tassel of red or pink fringe, gaudily
ornamented outside with a stiff pattern in green and
brown. It is about seven or eight inches long, solid
and heavy in proportion ; and looks as if in the fitness
of things it ought to be at the end of a thick red and
green cord looping up the gorgeous curtains of an
American hotel. The flower is shaped like a gigantic
thistle, but the plant on which it grows is a shrub, with
a hard, woody stem, and laurel-like leaves. These are
only a few specimens of the common’s wealth of
flowers ; each time we went out we brought home a
different collection, and our little rooms were bright
with that intensity of colouring which makes the great
difference between these children of the sun and the
flora of colder climates.

A search for flowers on the common, or, indeed, a
walk anywhere about Walmer, is attended by one very
unpleasant penalty—you invariably come home covered
with ticks. There are several varieties of these tor-

* We have since found that this plant is a Protea.

‘PORT ELIZABETH AND WALMER. 23

mentors ; the tiny, almost invisible ones being by far
the worst and most numerous, and their bites, or
rather their presence beneath one’s skin, causing in-
tense irritation. The large ticks, though they do not
confine their attentions wholly to animals, are much
more troublesome to them than to the human race,
and our poor horses, dog, and other creatures suffered
terribly from their attacks. One day, soon after our
arrival, | was much amused by the clumsy antics of a
number of fowls, which were continually jumping up
and pecking at some cattle grazing near. On investi-
gation, I found that they were regaling on the fat ticks
with which the poor animals were covered; and our
appetite for the Walmer poultry was considerably
lessened by the discovery. Ticks abound everywhere
along the coast, but as soon ag you move inland you
are free from the torment.

We had not been very long in Walmer before T
commenced his ostrich-farming with the purchase of
forty-nine young birds, most of them only a few
months old, and all wearing the rough, black and grey
plumage which, under the name of “ chicken-feathers,”
forms the ostrich’s clothing during the first three or
four years of his life. We kept them at night in a
small enclosure near the house, and during the day-
time they grazed on the common, herded by a trouble-
some little Kaffir boy, who required more looking after
than all his charges. The business of counting the
latter when they were brought home in the evening
was by no means so easy as one would imagine, for the

24 HIOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

tiresome birds did all in their power to hinder it, and
if quiet enough before, seemed always prompted by
some mischievous demon to begin moving about as
soon as the counting commenced; then, just when
we were about half “through ”—to use a convenient
Americanism—they would get so hopelessly mixed up
that we had to begin all over again.

One day T and I had the excitement of an
ostrich-hunt on horseback. One of our birds, which
was much larger than any of the others, being nearly
full-grown, and which had to be kept separate lest he
should ill-treat his weaker brethren, had got away, and
we had a long ride after him; T following him up
by his spoor, or footprints, with as unerring an eye as
that of a Red Indian, until at last we were rewarded
by the sight of a small head and long snake-like neck
above the distant bushes. Then came the very en-
joyable but somewhat difficult work of driving our
prisoner home. He would trot before us quietly
enough for a while, with his curious springy step, till
he thought we were off our guard, when he would
make an abrupt and unexpected run in the wrong
direction ; and a prompt rush, like that of the picador
in a bull-fight, was necessary to cut off his retreat.
The horses quite understood what they had to do,
and seemed to enter into the spirit of it, and enjoy it
as we did.

CHAPTER II.

SOME OF OUR PETS.

Friendliness of South African birds and beasts—Our Secretary bird—
Ungainly appearance of Jacob—His queer ways—Tragic fate of
a kitten—A persecuted fowl—Our Dikkops—A baby buffalo—
Wounded buffalo more dangerous than lion—A lucky stumble—
Hunter attacked by “rogue ” buffalo—A midnight ride—Followed
by a lion—Toto—A pugnacious goose—South African climate
dangerous to imported dogs—Toto and the crows—Animals offered
by Moors in exchange for Toto.

SoutH AFrica is the land of pet animals. The feath-
ered and four-footed creatures are all delightful. They
have the quaintest and most amusing ways, and they
are very easily tamed. The little time and attention
which in a busy colonial home can be spared for the
pets is always repaid a hundredfold; and often you
are surprised to find how quickly the bird or beast
which only a few days ago was one of the wild crea-
tures of the veldt—torn suddenly from nest or burrow,
and abruptly turned out from the depths of a sack or
of a Hottentot’s pocket into a human home—has be-
come an intimate friend, with a clearly-marked indi-
vidual character, most interesting to study, and quite
different from those of all its fellows, even of the same
kind. On one point, however, the whole collection is

26 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM,

sure to be unanimous, and that is a strong feeling of
rivalry, and jealousy of one another, each one striving
to be first in the affections of master and mistress.
A great fondness for and sympathy with animals is
not the least among the many tastes which T and
I have in common; and in our up-country home, far
off as we were from human neighbours, we were

always surrounded by numbers of animal and bird
friends.

We began to form the nucleus of our small men-
agerie while still at Walmer; and one of our first
acquisitions was a secretary bird. The friends near
whom we lived possessed three of these creatures,
which had all been found, infants together, in one
nest on an ostrich farm near Port Elizabeth ; and to
my great delight, one of them was given to us. “Jacob,”
as we named him, turned out a most amusing pet.
His personal appearance was decidedly comical; re-
minding us of a little old-fashioned man in a grey
coat and tight black knee-breeches ; with pale flesh-
coloured stockings clothing the thinnest and most
angular of legs, the joints of which might have been
stiff with chronic rheumatism, so slowly and cautiously
did Jacob bend them when picking anything up, or
when settling himself down into his favourite squatting
attitude. Not by any means a nice old man did Jacob
resemble, but an old reprobate, with evil-looking eye,
yellow parchment complexion, bald head, hooked nose
and fiendish grin ; with his shoulders shrugged up, his
hands tucked away under his coat-tails, and several

WU i Zi)
jj vd

fi
A

i
tA

SOME OF OUR PETS. 27

pens stuck behind his ear. Altogether an uncanny-
looking creature, and one which, had he appeared in
England some two or three centuries ago, would have
stood a very fair chance of being burned alive in com-
pany with the old witches and their cats; indeed, he
looked the part of a familiar spirit far better than the
blackest cat could possibly do.

Yet with all his diabolical appearance, Jacob was
very friendly and affectionate, and soon grew most
absurdly tame—too tame, in fact. He would come
running to us the moment we appeared in the verandah,
and would follow us about the garden, nibbling like a
puppy at our hands and clothes. He would walk,
quite uninvited, into the house, where his long-legged
ungainly figure looked strangely out of place, and
where he was much too noisy to be allowed to remain,
although the broadest of hints in the shape of wet
bath-sponges, soft clothes-brushes, Moorish slippers,
and what other harmless missiles came to hand, were
quite unavailing to convince him he was not wanted.
The noisy scuffle and indignant gruntings attendant
on his forcible expulsion had hardly subsided before
he would reappear, walking sedately in at the first
door or window available, as if nothing had happened.

His objectionable noises were very numerous ; and
some of them were unpleasantly suggestive of a hos-
pital. He would commence, for instance, with what
seemed a frightful attack of asthma, and would appear
to be very near the final gasp; then for about ten

minutes he would have violent and alarming hiccups ;
3

28 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

the perfurmance concluding with a repulsively realistic
imitation of a consumptive cough, at the last stage.
His favourite noise of all was a harsh, rasping croak,
which he would keep up for any length of time, and
with the regularity of a piece of clockwork ; this noise
was supposed to be a gentle intimation that Jacob was
hungry, though the old impostor had probably had a
substantial feed just before coming to pose as a starving
beggar under our windows. The monotonous grating
sound was exasperating; and, when driven quite beyond
endurance, T would have recourse to extreme
measures, and would fling towards Jacob a large dried
puff-adder’s skin, one of a collection of trophies hang-
ing on the walls of our cottage. The sight of this
always threw Jacob into a state of abject terror. He
seemed quite to lose his wits, and would dance about
wildly, jumping up several feet from the ground in a
grotesque manner ; till at last, grunting his loudest,
and with the pen-like feathers on his head bristling
with excitement, he would clear the little white fence,
and go off at railway speed across the common, where
he would remain out of sight all the rest of the day;
only returning at dusk to squat solemnly for the night
in his accustomed corner of the garden.

His dread of the putf-adder’s skin inclined us to
doubt the truth of the popular belief in the secretary’s
usefulness as a destroyer of snakes, on account of
which a heavy fine is imposed by the Cape Govern-
ment on any one found killing one of these birds. I
certainly do not think Jacob would have faced a full-

SOME OF OUR PETS. 29

grown puff-adder, though we once saw him kill and
eat a small young one in the garden, beating it to
death with his strong feet, and then swallowing it at
one gulp. He was like a boa-constrictor in his capa-
city for “ putting himself outside” the animals on which
he fed—lizards, rats, toads, frogs, fat juicy locusts,
young chickens, alas! and some of the smaller pets
if left incautiously within his reach, even little kittens
—all went down whole. The last-named animals were
his favourite delicacy, and he was fortunate enough
while at Walmer to get plenty of them. His enormous
appetite, and our difficulty in satisfying it, were well
known in the neighbourhood, and the owners of several
prolific cats, instead of drowning the superfluous pro-
geny, bestowed them on us as offerings to Jacob. They
were killed and given to him at the rate of one a day.
Once, however, by an unlucky accident, one of them
got into his clutches without the preliminary knock on
the head; and the old barbarian swallowed it alive.
For some minutes we could hear the poor thing mew-
ing piteously in Jacob’s interior, while he himself stood
there listening and looking all round in a puzzled
manner, to see where the noise came from. He evi-
dently thought there was another kitten somewhere,
and seemed much disappointed at not finding it.

One day, when there had been a great catch of rats,
he swallowed three large ones in succession, but these
were almost too much even for him; the tail of the
last rat protruded from his bill, and it was a long time
before it quite disappeared from view. The butcher

30 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

had orders to bring liberal supplies for Jacob every
day, and the greedy bird soon learned to know the hour
at which he ealled. He would stand solemnly looking
in the direction from which the cart came, and as soon
as it appeared, he would run in his ungainly fashion to
meet it.

Jacob was largely endowed with that quality which
is best expressed by the American word “ cussedness ;”
and though friendly enough with us, he was very spite-
ful and malicious towards all other creatures on the
place. He grew much worse after we went to live up-
country, and became at last a kind of feathered
Ishmael ; hated by all his fellows, and returning their
dislike with interest. Some time after we settled on
our farm we found that he had been systematically in-
flicting a cruel course of ill-treatment on one unfortu-
nate fowl, which, having been chosen as the next victim
for the table, was enclosed, with a view to fattening,
in a little old packing-case with wooden bars nailed
across the front. Somehow, in spite of abundant
mealies and much soaked bread, that fowl] never would
get fat, nor had his predecessor ever done so; we had
grown weary of feeding up the latter for weeks with
no result, and in despair had killed and eaten him at
last—a poor bag of bones, not worth a tithe of the food
he had consumed. And now here was another, ap-
parently suffering from the same kind of atrophy ; the
whole thing was a puzzle to us, until one day the mystery
was solved, and Jacob stood revealed as the author of
the mischief. He had devised an ingenious way of per-

SOME OF OUR PETS. 31

secuting the poor prisoner, and on seeing it we no
longer wondered at the latter’s careworn looks. Jacob
would come up to his box, and make defiant and
insulting noises at him—none could do this better than
he—until the imbecile curiosity of fowls prompted the
victim to protrude his head and neck through the bars ;
then, before he had time to draw back, Jacob’s foot
would come down with a vicious dab on his head. The
foolish creature never seemed to learn wisdom by ex-
perience, though he must have been nearly stunned
many times, and his head all but knocked off by Jacob’s
great powerful foot and leg; yet as often as the foe
challenged him, his poor simple face would look in-
quiringly out, only to meet another buffet. As he
would not take care of himself, we had to move him
into a safe place; where he no longer died daily, and
was able at last to fulfil his destiny by becoming respect-
ably fat. .

One day T returned from bathing, his Turkish
towel, instead of being as usual filled with blue lotus
for the dining-table, showing very evident signs of
living contents; and two of the queerest little birds
came tumbling out of it. They were young dikkops,
a little covey of which he had surprised near his
bathing-place. They possessed very foolish, vacant
faces; and their large, round, bright yellow eyes were
utterly void of expression, just as if a bird-stuffer had
furnished them with two pairs of glass eyes many sizes
too large. Their great thick legs, on the enormously
swollen-looking knee-joints of which they squatted in

32 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

a comical manner, were just as much out of proportion
as the eyes, and of the same vivid yellow ; indeed, the
bird-stuffer seemed to have finished off his work with
a thick coating of the brightest gamboge over legs and
bill. They had no tail to speak of, and their soft
plumage was of all different shades of brown and grey,
very prettily marked. The dikkop (a Dutch name,
meaning “thickhead ”), is a small kind of bustard, and
is by far the best of the many delicious game-birds of
South Africa. It is a nocturnal bird, sleepy during
the daytime, but lively and noisy at night—as we soon
found to our discomfort. Not being able to decide at
once on a place for our newly-acquired specimens, we
put them into our bedroom for the first night, but
they were soon awake—so, alas! were we—and their
plaintive cry, sounding incessantly from all parts of the
room as they ran restlessly to and fro, speedily obliged
us to turn them out. We found permanent quarters
for them at the end of the verandah, opposite the
fernery, where my American trunks—too large to go
into the house—had been placed. These we arranged
to form a little enclosure, in which the dikkops were
safe from the voracious Jacob, who would soon have
swallowed them, legs and all, if he had had the chance.
One, evidently the smallest and weakest of the covey,
we named Benjamin; but, unlike his Scriptural name-
sake, he received rather a smaller than a larger portion
of the good things of this world, the grcedy Joseph
taking advantage of his own superior size and strength
to get the lion’s share of all the food, and Benjamin

SOME OF OUR PETS. 33

meekly submitting ; till we interfered, and by separa-
ting the two at feeding-time ensured an equal division.
Joseph’s general conduct was cruel and unbrotherly ;
and when one day, during the process of packing to
move up-country, he came to an untimely end, being
accidentally crushed under the heaviest “Saratoga,”
we naturally expected Benjamin to rejoice. Instead
of this, however, the little fellow pined and fretted ;
refusing to eat, and calling incessantly with his little
mournful cry of three soft musical notes in a minor
key, as if hoping to bring back his oppressor—from
whom he ought to have been thankful to be free—and
at the end of two days he also was dead.

During one of T ’s journeys up-country he made
a strange purchase, which he forwarded at once to me
by train. It was a baby buffalo, which had been taken
alive by the hunters who shot its mother. The buffalo
being a rare animal in the Cape Colony, we looked on
this little specimen as a great acquisition ; and, had he
lived, he would have been a very valuable, though
perhaps in time somewhat formidable addition to the
menagerie ; but the railway officials to whose care he
was consigned being no exception to the generality of
Cape colonists—whose usual way of doing business is
to let things take care of themselves—the poor little
fellow was put into the train without being fastened
or secured in any way, and the jolting he received en
route knocked him about so that he arrived in a very
sad state, with his head cut and bleeding in several
places ; and did not live many days.

34 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM,

The buffalo is considered by all hunters a far more
dangerous animal to encounter than the lion, and almost
as formidable as the elephant or rhinoceros. When
wounded, he has an ugly trick of lying in wait, hidden
in the bush, with only his nose out; and turning the
tables on the pursuer by making an unexpected charge.
Many hunters have been killed in this manner by
infuriated buffaloes.

When T—— was hunting in the interior some years
before, a friend who was there with him met with an
exciting adventure. Having come across a herd of
buffaloes he fired into the midst of them ; then, unaware
that he had wounded one of the animals, he rode in
pursuit of the herd. On coming up with them, he
dismounted, and was just preparing to fire again, when
a shout from his brother, who was behind, made him
look round, just in time to see the wounded buffalo,
which had emerged from the bush, charging him fu-
riously. He gave him both barrels, each shot striking
him in the centre of the forehead; but, as the buffalo
always charges with his nose in the air, both bullets
glanced off, and Mr. B escaped only by a quick
jump on one side. The buffalo passed him; then turn-
ing round, tossed and killed the horse. The next shot
finished the buffalo’s career ; and on the great head,
which has been kept as a trophy, are the marks of the
two first bullets, showing how calm was the presence
of mind, and how true the aim, in that moment of
danger.

Another of T:

’s hunting companions, chased in a

SOME OF OUR PETS. 35

similar manner by a wounded buffalo, owed his life to
a lucky stumble, which so astonished the animal that
he stood still for a few seconds staring at the prostrate
figure; giving the hunter time to get up and take refuge
behind a tree, from whence he shot his assailant.

The most dangerous buffaloes are the old solitary
bulls which have been turned out of the herd; they
become as artful and malicious as rogue elephants, and
often hide in the bush when they get your wind, to
rush out on you unexpectedly. On another of T 3
hunting expeditions, on the river Sabie, not far from
Delagoa Bay, one of the party was walking quietly
along with his rifle over his shoulder, when he was
suddenly attacked by one of these “rogues,” and so
frightfully gored that for a time he was not expected
to live. T started off at once to fetch a doctor;
and rode all through the night, steering his course by
the stars, to an encampment which most fortunately
happened to be within about thirty miles. It was that
of a party who were bringing up a number of mitrail-
leuses and other arms, taken in the Franco-Prussian
war and presented by Germany to the Transvaal Gov-
ernment. In the camp there were an immense number
of donkeys, which were used for the transport of the
guns; and when one commenced braying, all the others
immediately following suit, it was a Pandemonium
which made night hideous indeed. On retracing his
course the next day, accompanied by the doctor, T
saw by the spoor that during that midnight ride he
had been followed by a lion,

36 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

And now, though the transition seems rather an
abrupt one from savage beasts to the sweetest and
gentlest of domestic pets, our dear old dog Toto
deserves a little notice. We brought him from
England with us—he is a dog of Kent, being a native
of the Weald—and when put on board the steamer
at Southampton he was not many months old. He
still had the blunt nose and thick paws of puppyhood ;
also its mischievous little needle-like teeth, with which
he ate off the straps of our portmanteaus, and, when
allowed an occasional run on deck, did considerable
damage to the Madeira chairs of the passengers.
Fortunately he was so general a favourite that his
iniquities were overlooked. The children on board
were especially fond of him, and would often petition
for him to be let loose, to join in their games. He
seemed to grow up during the voyage—possibly the
sea air hastened his development—and he had almost
attained full size and perfect proportions by the time
we landed in Cape Town; he, poor fellow, being in
such wild delight at finding himself again on terra
firma and released from the narrowness of ship life,
that he was quite mad with excitement, jumping and
dragging at his chain, and knocking us nearly off our
legs, besides involving us and himself in numerous
entanglements with the legs of others. We had to
be perpetually apologizing for his conduct, and really
felt quite ashamed of him.

He is a large black-and-tan collie; with a soft glossy
coat, a big black feather of a tail, and the most superb

SOME OF OUR PETS. 37

white frill; of which latter he is justly proud, drawing
himself up to show it off to the best advantage when-
ever it is stroked or admired. Altogether he is a very
vain dog, quite conscious of his good looks. His big,
honest, loving brown eyes have none of that sly, shifty
look which gives a treacherous appearance to so many
collies ; his face, which is as good and kind as it is
pretty, has a great range of expression, and it is
wonderful to see how instantly it will change from a
benevolent smile, or even a downright laugh, to a
pathetic, deeply injured, or scornful look, if Toto
considers himself slighted or insulted. We have to
study his feelings carefully, for he is proud and sensi-
tive even beyond the usual nature of collies; and if
we have been unfortunate enough to offend him—
as often as not quite unintentionally—he will give us
the cut direct for several days ; repelling all advances
with the most freezing indifference, and plainly,
though always politely, for he is a thorough gentle-
man, intimating his wish to drop our acquaintance.
Sometimes we are puzzled to know why Toto is
haughty and distant towards us, or ignores our
existence; and, on looking back, recall perhaps that
so long ago as the day before yesterday one of us,
in the hurry of daily work, findmg his large form
obstructing the door through which we had to pass,
told him, somewhat impatiently, to get out of the way.
Or perhaps—worse still—we may have laughed at
him. Possibly the mouse he was chasing on the veldt
popped into the safety of a hole just as he had all but

38 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

caught it, and we unfeelingly made a joke of his dis-
appointment—or, in his excessive zeal to hold himself
very upright when sitting up to beg at dinner, dear
Toto may have leaned back just a little too far and
rolled over on to his back ; a painfal position for so
majestic an animal, and one which ought to have com-
manded respectful silence, instead of provoking an
unkind laugh. This misfortune has happened several
times to poor Toto, especially during the process of
learning his threefold trick of sitting up to beg,
“asking ”—with a little short bark—for bone or
biscuit, and finally catching the contribution in his
mouth, It is really difficult to refrain from laughing
at his sudden collapse, preceded as it always is by an
extra self-satisfied look—just the expression of the dog
in Caldecott’s “House that Jack built,’ as he sits
smiling and all-unconscious of the cow coming up
behind to toss him. A conceited protrusion of Toto’s
big white shirt-frill is usually the occasion of falling,
and no doubt he deserves to be laughed at; but the
poor fellow’s evident distress, and his “countenance
more in sorrow than in anger” at our cruel mirth, have
led us to make great efforts to keep our gravity, and,
with true politeness, to pretend not to see him.
Though Toto is not generally a demonstrative dog,
there is no mistake about his affection for us ; he shows
it in many quiet little sympathetic ways, and seems
even more human than the generality of collies. He
has constituted himself my special guardian and pro-
tector, and though at all times a very devoted attendant,

SOME OF OUR PETS. 39

he would always take extra care of me whenever,
during T ’s journeys about the country, I was left
at home alone. Then the faithful old fellow would not
leave me for an instant. The silent sympathy with
which he thrust his nose lovingly into my hand cheered
the dreary moment when, after watching T out of
sight, I turned to walk back to the lonely house ; and
his quiet unobtrusive presence enlivened all the weeks
of solitude. He would lie at my feet as I sat working
or writing ; follow me from room to room or out of
doors, always close at my heels; and curl himself up to
sleep under my bed, when at any time during the night
the slightest word or movement on my part would
produce a responsive “tap, tap,” of his tail upon the
floor. And when his master returned, he always
seemed to look to him for approbation; his whole
manner expressing his pride in the good care he had
taken of house and mistress.

Our garden at Walmer was constantly invaded by
neighbouring fowls and ducks, which would lie in wait
outside, ready to slip in the instant the little gate was
left open ; the fowls of course found plenty of occupa-
tion among the tlowers; while the ducks would at once
make for a large tub, generally full of photographic
prints taking their final bath under a tap of slowly-
trickling water. The horrid birds seemed to take a
delight in driving their clumsy bills through the soft,
sodden paper ; and after several prints from our best
negatives had been destroyed, we summoned Toto to
our aid. He threw himself with great energy into the

40 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

work of ridding us of the intruders. He would lie in
ambush for them, and when, much to his delight, they
appeared inside the gate, he would rush to the attack,
chasing first one and then another about the garden
till he caught it; then, lifting it and carrying it out in
his mouth as gently as a cat carries her kitten, he
would deposit it outside, with much angry quacking or
frishtened screeching from the victim, as the case
might be, but without the loss of a feather.

Once he, in his turn, was attacked by a pugnacious
goose, which he was endeavouring to drive out of the
garden ; and which turned on him savagely, keeping
up a desperate battle with him for a long time, until it
was quite exhausted, and sat down panting. It chased
him many times round our small lawn, and once, in its
excitement, put its head right into his mouth. Luckily
for the goose, Toto was so utterly bewildered by its
strange conduct, that he missed the golden opportunity
of snapping off the imbecile head so invitingly presented,

He was equally zealous in keeping the garden free
from cats ; and in pursuit of one of these he actually
climbed so far into the lower branches of a tree that
his victim, evidently expecting to see him come all the
way to the top, gave himself up for lost, and dropped
to the ground in a fit.

Imported dogs often die in South Africa ; especially
if they remain near Port Elizabeth, or if they have
distemper, which is much more severe in the colony
than it is in Europe. Poor Toto laboured under both
these disadvantages ; for during our stay at Walmer he

SOME OF OUR FETS. 41

was attacked with distemper, and, the summer being
also an unusually hot one, everything seemed azainst
him. He was so ill that we quite gave up all hope of
saving him, and bitterly regretted having brought him
out with us. Just when he was at his worst, however,
business called us away for a few days to Cradock,
which is some distance inland; and T
to be a healthy place for dogs, suggested that we should
take the poor creature with us—dying as he seemed to
be—on the slight chance that the change of climate
might save him. We left him there—parting from
him sadly and without much hope of seeing him again ;
but we were leaving him in the kindest of hands, and,
thanks to the careful nursing he received, as well as to
the timely change of air, he lived—indeed, I am glad to
say, lives still, He remained some months at Cradock,
whence from time to time came the good news of his
steady improvement, and finally, some time after we
had settled up-country, the announcement that he
would be sent off to us at the first opportunity.

Then, one day as we sat at dinner, we heard a
sudden and startling tumult in the kitchen; the wel-
coming voices of the servants ; a frantic scuffle outside
the sitting-room door ; and in rushed Toto, handsomer
and fuller of life and spirits than ever; whining and
howling with delight, and nearly upsetting us, chairs
and all, besides endangering everything on the table,
as he jumped wildly to lick our faces. He had been
brought from Klipplaat by a passing waggon, in the
usual “promiscuous” manner in which property, ani-

, knowing it

42 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

mate as well as inanimate, is delivered at its destina-
tion on Cape farms.
After thus paying his footing in South Africa nearly
with his life, Toto was thoroughly acclimatized, and
passed through several very hot summers on the farm
without a day’s illness; only showing by increased
liveliness his preference for the cooler weather ; being
very happy on the occasional really cold days of our
short winter, and—like everyone else—cross during a
hot wind. He has now accompanied us back to England,
where—probably on the strength of being an old
‘traveller who has twice crossed the line—he gives
himself great airs, and makes no secret of his contempt
for the stay-at-home dogs who have not had his ad-
vantages. This involves him in many fights; and the
brother and sister with whom—having no settled home
in England—we have occasionally left him, have several
times been threatened with summonses for his misdeeds.
Toto is now getting on in years—those few years,
alas! which make up the little span of a dog’s life—but
he is still lively enough; and the crows at Mogador,
where we spent the winter of 1888-89, will long re-
member the games they have had with that comical
foreign dog, so unlike any of the jackal-like creatures
to which they were accustomed. They knew him well,
and always seemed to look out for him; and, as soon
as he emerged from the ugly white-washed gateway of
the town, and approached their favourite haunt, the
dirty rubbish-heaps just outside the walls, they would
fly close up to him, challenging him to catch them,

SOME OF OUR PETS. 43

Undaunted by invariable failure, he was always
ready, and would dash noisily after them ; while they,
enjoying the joke—tor every crow is a fellow of infinite
jest—tlew tantalizingly along close in front of his nose,
and only just out of his reach. Sometimes they would
settle on the ground a long way off, and—apparently
oblivious of him—become so deeply absorbed in search-
ing for the choicest morsels of rubbish that Toto,
deluded by the well-acted little play, would make a
wild charge. But the artless-looking crows, who all
the while were thinking of him, had accurately cal-
culated time and distance; and as he galloped up—
confident that this time at least he was really going to
catch one—they would allow him to come within an
inch of touching them before they would appear to see
him at all; then, rising slowly into the air—as if it
were hardly worth the trouble to get out of his way—
they would hover, croaking contemptuously, above his
head, just out of reach of his spring.

And when at last he was tired out with racing after
them, and—being, like Hamlet, “fat and scant of
breath ”—could only fling himself panting on the sand,
they would walk derisively all round him; come up
defiantly, close to his gasping mouth, and all but perch
on him. Before we left, several of the native dogs had
learned the game ; possibly their descendants will keep
it up, and—who knows ?—some naturalist of the future
may record his discovery of a strange friendship
between dogs and crows in Mogador.

From the latter place T—— made several expeditions

4

44 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

to the interior, travelling on foot and in native dress,
for the purpose of distributing Arabic Testaments—on
one occasion going as far as the city of Morocco. On
these trips Toto accompanied his master, and—far from
being the object of contempt and aversion, as a dog
usually is in Mohammedan lands—was universally
admired and coveted by the natives ; by some of whom
—had T—— not eaten of their bread and salt, thus
placing them on their honour—it is extremely likely
that he would have been stolen. It was something
quite new to them to see a dog actually fond of his
master, and treated by the latter as a friend ; full of
intelligence, too, and altogether different from their own
uninteresting dogs ; his clever tricks—which seemed to
them almost uncanny—earned him many a good feed ;
and among the variety of animals offered at different
times in exchange for him, were two donkeys, a horse,
and a young camel.

Toto can boast, too, of having spent many nights in
quarters where probably never dog has slept before—
te. in Mohammedan mosques. These were the usual
sleeping-places assigned to the travellers by the simple
village folk, whose toleration contrasts strongly with
the fanaticism of the towns. There the mosques are
held very sacred ; and for Europeans to look in at their
doors, even from across the street, gives great offence.

* * * * *

And now, as I write, the old dog—faithful and

friendly as ever—sits up begging; no longer con-

oD 5?

ceitedly and unsteadily as in his youth, but in the

SOME OF OUR PETS. 45

more sober fashion of the poor, fat, apoplectic-looking
bears at the Zoo; with legs well spread out to afford
the firm foundation needed by the portliness of ad-
vancing years. His kind eyes are fixed very lovingly
and deferentially on the tiny face of his present queen
and mistress, the little fair-haired girl who has come
to us since we left the Cape; and who, with a regal
air of command, holds out her biscuit to the seated
Colossus, who, not so long ago, towered above her
small head, and bids him “ask for it.” Together these
two friends and playfellows make so pretty a picture,
that we could wish Briton Riviére or Burton Barber
were here to see it and give it to the world.

CHAPTER IIL.
PLANTS OF THE KARROO,

We move up-country—Situation of farm—Strange vegetation of Karroo
district— Karroo plant—Fet-bosch — Brack-bosch —Our flowers—
Speckboom — Bitter aloes— Thorny plants — Wacht-een-Beetje —
Ostriches killed by prickly pear—Finger-poll—Wild tobacco fatal
to ostriches—Carelessness of colonists—Euphorbias—Candle-bush.

Our five months at Walmer passed so pleasantly, that
in spite of my longing to be settled on a place of our
own, and the impatience I felt to enter on all the
duties and pleasures of farm life among the ostriches,
I was really sorry when the time of departure came,
and in the beginning of winter—i.e. towards the latter
part of May—we left the little house, the first home
of our married life, and took our journey up-country.
We had no very long distance to travel, for the farm
in the Karroo district which T——- had chosen was
only a day’s journey from “The Bay,” as Port Eliza-
beth, like San Francisco, is familiarly called; and
instead of being, like many proprietors of farms, quite
out of the world, and obliged to drive for two or even
three days to reach the railway, we had our choice of
two stations ; the nearest, Klipplaat, being only fifteen
miles from us, and the railway journey not more than
eight hours.

PLANTS OF THE KARROO, 47

Our farm, extending over twelve thousand acres, was
situated in a long valley running between two ranges
of mountains, the steepness of which rendered enclos-
ing unnecessary in many parts; thus saving much
expense in starting the farm, an entirely new one, and
chosen purposely by T on this account. For it
sometimes happens that land on which ostriches have
run for years becomes at last unhealthy for the birds.
We were in that part of the Karroo which is called
the Zwart Ruggens, or “ black rugged country ;” so
named from the appearance it presents when, during
the frequent long droughts, the bush loses all its
verdure, and becomes outwardly so black and dry-
looking that no one unacquainted with this most
curious kind of vegetation would suppose it capable
of containing the smallest amount of nutriment for
ostriches, sheep, or goats. But if you break one of
these apparently dried-up sticks, you find it all green
and succulent inside, full of a very nourishing saline
juice; and thus, even in long droughts which some-
times last more. than a year, this country is able to
support stock in a most marvellous manner, of which,
judging by outward appearance, it certainly does not
seem capable. It seems strange that in this land of
dryness the plants are so full of moisture; one wonders
whence it can possibly have come.

The little karroo plant, from which the district
takes its name, is one of the best kinds of bush for
ostriches, as well as for sheep and goats; it grows in
little compact round tufts not more than seven or

48 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

eight inches from the ground, and though so valuable
to farmers, it is but unpretending in appearance, with
tiny, narrow leaves, and a little, round, bright yellow
flower, exactly resembling the centre of an English
daisy after its oracle has been consulted, and its last
petal pulled by some enquiring Marguérite.

The fet-bosch is another of our commonest and most
useful plants; its pinkish-lilac flower is very like that
of the portulacca, and its little flat succulent leaves
look like miniature prickly pear leaves without the
prickles; hence its name, from Twrk-fei, Turkish tig.
When flowering in large masses, and seen at a little
distance, the fei-bosch might almost be taken for
heather.

The brack-bosch, which completes our trio of very
best kinds of ostrich-bush, is a taller and more grace-
ful plant than either of the preceding, with blue-green
leaves, and blossom consisting of a spike of little
greenish tufts; but there are an endless variety of
other plants, among which there is hardly one that is
not good nourishing food for the birds.

All are alike succulent and full of salt, giving out a
crisp, crackling sound as you walk over them; all have
the same strange way of growing, each plant a little
isolated patch by itself, just as the tufts of wool grow
on the Hottentots’ heads; and the flowers of nearly
all are of the portulacca type, some large, some small,
some growing singly, others in clusters; they are of
different colours—white, yellow, orange, red, pink,
lilac, ete. They are very delicate and fragile flowers;

A. Martin, Del.
Some of the Best Kinds of Ostrich-Bush.
I. BRACK-BOSCH. 2, GHANNA, 3. FEI-BOSCH.

PLANTS OF THE KARROO. 49

and, pretty as they are, it is useless to attempt carry-
ing them home, for they close up and fade as soon as
they are gathered.

Indeed, nearly all the flowers in that part of the
world are unsatisfactory ; and those few among them
which will keep for a very short time in water are
almost useless for table decorations, as they seem in-
capable of adapting themselves to any sort or form of
flower-vase. They are pretty enough in themselves ;
but the large, thick, stubborn stems, all out of propor-
tion with the flowers, refuse to bend themselves to any
graceful form or combination ; they all seem starting
away from one another in an angular, uncomfortable
manner, and of course any pretty arrangement of
flowers which will not arrange themselves is impossible.
Our thoughts often went back longingly to the flowers
of Walmer, compared with which prolific region the
Karroo is poverty indeed.

A cineraria, very nearly as large as the cultivated
varieties, and of a beautiful deep blue, on which the
Dutch have bestowed the euphonious name of blaaww-
blometje (little blue flower), several tiny irises, and a
rather rare bulb, the hyacinth-like blossoms of which,
as well as the upper part of the stalk, are of a lovely
tint between scarlet and deep rose-colour, and all
soft and velvety in texture, are among our prettiest
flowers.

Then there are the mimosa’s balls of soft, sweet-
scented yellow fringe, perfuming the air all round for
a long distance, and making the trees seem all of gold

50 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

when covered with their masses of bloom. Here and
there is a Kaffir Lean, a shrub with rather handsome
large red flowers, but it is not common, There are a
good many colourless, insignificant-looking flowers, and
some which are quite uncanny ; one, especially, with
pendent, succulent bells of livid green and dull red,
looks worthy to be one of the ingredients of a witch’s
cauldron. These are all flowers of the plains; the
mountains are richer, but their treasures are only to
be attained by making rather long excursions up their
steep sides, over the roughest and stoniest of ground,
and through a tangled mass of vegetation, most of
which is very thorny. But even the weariest climb is
well repaid on reaching the heights where the wild
geraniums grow. The immense round bushes, five or
six feet in diameter, and brilliant with great bunches
of pink or scarlet flowers, are indeed a lovely sight,
A creeping ivy-leaved geranium, and a very pretty
pelargonium, which is also a creeper, grow in these
same far-off regions; the flower of the latter is of a
beautiful rich maroon and cream-colour, its curiously
jointed stem and tiny leaves are very succulent, salt
to the taste, and strongly scented with the sweet gera-
nium perfume. It is strange to notice how plants
which in Europe are neither saline nor particularly
succulent, when growing in the Karroo assume the
prevailing character of its vegetation.

Large white marguérites, growing on a shrub with
a hard, woody stem, inhabit the same heights as the
geraniums and pelargoniums ; all these together would

PLANTS OF THE KARROO, 51

have been invaluable for the brightening of our little
rooms, if we could possibly have brought them home.
But they are all much too delicate to survive the long
walk or ride back, and the only mountain flowers we
could reasonably hope to bring home in a presentable
condition were the large, bright yellow immortelles.
The scanty little streams trickling down some of the
cool shady kloofs between the mountains are the home
of a few white arums; and their rocky beds are
fringed, though not very abundantly, with maiden-
hair fern.

The spekboom, which is a good-sized shrub, some-
times attaining the height of fifteen or twenty feet,
grows plentifully a little way up the mountains ; and
in very protracted droughts, when the karroo and
other bush of the plains begin at last to fail, it is our
great resource for the ostriches, which then ascend
for the purpose of feeding on it; and though they do
not care for it as they do for their usual kinds of food,
it is good and nourishing for them. Elephants are
very fond of the spekboom, but though a few of these
animals are still found near Port Elizabeth, there are
fortunately none in our neighbourhood to make inroads
on the supplies reserved for the ostriches against what
certainly in South Africa cannot be called “a rainy
day.” The spekboom has a large soft stem, very thick,
round, succulent leaves, and its clusters of star-shaped,
wax-like flowers are white, sometimes slightly tinged
with pink. There are several plants very closely re-
sembling the spekboom ; one with pretty, bright yellow

52 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

flowers; and one, the soft stem of which, if cut into
thin slices, looks exactly like very red salt tongue.
Those unpleasant old acquaintances of childish days,
the bitter aloes, are at home in the Karroo in great
numbers; and most brilliantly do they light up the
somewhat gloomy-looking sides of the mountains in
early spring with the great spikes of their shaded scar-
let and orange-coloured flowers, looking like gigantic
“red-hot poker plants.” This African aloe has none
of the slender grace of its American relative, and it is
only when flowering that it has any claim to beauty ;
at all other times it is simply a most untidy-looking
plant, the thick, clumsy stem for about five or six feet
below the crown of leaves being covered with the
ragged, decaying remains of former vegetation, sug-
gestive of numberless scorpions and centipedes.
Thorny plants abound, especially on the mountains,
where indeed almost every bush which is not soft and
succulent is armed with strong, sharp, often cruelly
hooked spikes. The wacht-een-beetje (wait-a-bit) does
not grow in our neighbourhood, but we have several
plants which seem to me no less deserving of the name ;
and often, when held a prisoner on some ingenious
arrangement of hooks and spikes viciously pointing in
every possible direction, each effort to free myself in-
volving me more deeply, and inflicting fresh damage
on clothes and flesh, I should, but for T ’s assurance
to the contrary, have quite believed I had encountered
it. The constant repairing of frightful “trap-doors”
and yawning rents of all shapes and sizes in T

«)

PLANTS OF THE KARROO, 53

garments and in my own, took up a large proportion of
time ; and often did I congratulate myself on the fact
that my riding-habit at least—chosen contrary to the
advice of friends at home, who all counselled coolness
and lightness above everything—was of such stout,
strong cloth as to defy most of the thorns. Any less
substantial material would have been reduced to rib-
bons in some of our rides.

On foot, you are perpetually assailed by the great
strong hooks of the wild asparagus, a troublesome
enemy, whose long straggling branches trailing over the
ground are most destructive to the skirts of dresses ;
while boots have deadly foes, not only in the shape of
rough ground and hard, sharp-pointed stones, but also
in that of numerous prickly and scratchy kinds of
small bush. At the end of one walk in the veldt, the
surface of a kid boot is all rubbed and torn into little
ragged points, and is never again fit to be seen. For-
tunately, in the Karroo, no one is over-particular about
such small details.

Among our troublesome plants, one of the worst and
most plentiful is the prickly pear; and farmers have
indeed no reason to bless the old Dutchwoman who, by
simply bringing one leaf of it from Cape Town to
Graaff-Reinet, was the first introducer of what has be-
come so great a nuisance. It spreads with astonishing
rapidity, and is so tenacious of life that a leaf, or even a
small portion of a leaf, if thrown on the ground, strikes
out roots almost immediately, and becomes the parent
of a fast-growing plant; and it is not without great

54 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

trouble and expense that farms can be kept compara-
tively free from it. Sometimes a little party of Kaffirs
would be encamped on some part of our land especially
overgrown with prickly pears; and there for months
together they would be at work, cutting in pieces and
rooting out the intruders; piling the disjointed stems and
leaves in neatly-arranged stacks, where they would
soon ferment and decay. Labour being dear in the
colony, the wages of “ prickly-pear-men ” form a large
item in the expenditure of a farm; in many places
indeed, where the plants are very numerous, it dues not
pay to clear the land, which consequently becomes
useless, many farms being thus ruined.

Sometimes ostriches, with that equal disregard of
their own health and of their possessor’s pocket for
which they are famous, help themselves to prickly pears,
acquire a morbid taste for them, and go on indulging
in them, reckless of the long, stiff spikes on the leaves,
with which their poor heads and necks soon become
so covered as to look like pin-cushions stuck full of
pins; and of the still more cruel, almost invisible
fruit-thorns which at last line the interior of their
throats, besides so injuring their eyes that they be-
come perfectly blind, and are unable to feed themselves.

Many a time has a poor unhappy ostrich, the victim
of prickly pear, been brought to me in a helpless,
half-dead state, to be nursed and fed at the house.
Undaunted by previous experience, I perseveringly
tended each case, hoping it might prove the exception
to the general rule, but never were my care and

PLANTS OF THE KARROO, 55

devotion rewarded by the recovery of my patient.
There it would squat for a few days, the picture of
misery; its long neck lying along the ground in a limp,
despondent manner, suggestive of the attitudes of sea-
sick geese and ducks on the first day of a voyage. Two
or three times a day I would feed it, forcing its unwilling
bill open with one hand, while with the other I posted
large handfuls of porridge, mealies, or chopped prickly
pear leaves in the depths of its capacious letter-box of
a throat, All to no purpose; it had made up its mind
to die, as every ostrich does immediately illness or
accident befalls it, and most resolutely did it carry out
its intention.

The prick'y pear, mischievous though it is, is not
altogether without its good qualities. Its juicy fruit,
though rather deficient in flavour, is delightfully cool
and refreshing in the dry heat of summer; and a kind
of treacle, by no means to be despised at those not in-
frequent times when butter is either ruinous in price
or quite unattainable, is made from it. A strong,
coarse spirit, equal to the aguardiente of Cuba in
horrible taste and smell, is distilled from prickly pears ;
and though to us it seemed only fit to be burned in a
spirit-lamp, when nothing better could be procured, it
is nectar to the Boers and Hottentots, who drink
large quantities of it. Great caution is needed in
peeling the prickly pear, the proper way being to
impale the fruit on a fork or stick while you cut it
open and remove the skin. On no account must the
latter be touched with the hands, or direful con-

56 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

sequences will ensue. To the inexperienced eye the
prickly pear looks innocent enough ; with its smooth,
shiny skin, suggestive only of a juicy interior, and
telling no tale of lurking mischief—yet each of those
soft-looking little tufts, with which at regular intervals
it is dotted, is a quiver filled with terrible, tiny, hair-
like thorns, or rather stings ; and woe betide the fingers
of the unwary “new chum,” who, with no kind friend
at hand to warn him, plucks the treacherous fruit.
He will carry a lively memento of it for many days.
My first sad experience of prickly pears was gained,
not in South, but in North Africa, Landing with a
friend in Algiers some time ago, our first walk led us
to the fruit market, where, before a tempting pile of
Jigues de Barbarie, we stopped to quench the thirst of
our thirty-six hours’ passage. The fruit was handed
to us, politely peeled by the Arab dealer ; and thus, as
we made our first acquaintance with its delightful
coolness, no suspicion of its evil qualities entered our
minds, And when, a few days later, adding the excite-
ment of a little trespassing to the more legitimate
pleasures of a country ramble, we came upon a well-
laden group of prickly pear bushes, we could not resist
the temptation to help ourselves to some of the fruit—
and woeful was the result. Concentrated essence of
stinging-nettle seemed all at once to be assailing hands,
lips, and tongue ; and our skin, wherever it had come
in contact with the ill-natured fruit, was covered with
a thick crop of minute, bristly hairs, apparently grow-
ing from it, and venomous and irritating to the last

PLANTS OF THE KARROO. 57

degree. Our silk gloves, transformed suddenly into
miniature robes of Nessus, had to be thrown away,
perfectly unwearable ; and the inadvertent use of our
pocket-handkerchiefs, before we had fully realized the
extent of our misfortune, caused fresh agonies, in which
nose as well as lips participated. For many a day did
the retribution of that theft haunt us in the form of
myriads of tiny stings. It was a long time indeed
before we were finally rid of the last of them; and we
registered a vow that whatever Algerian fruit we
might dishonestly acquire in future, it should not be
Jigues de Barbarie.

In dry weather at the Cape these spiteful little stim
do not even wait for the newly-arrived victim ; but fly
about, light as thistle-down, ready to settle on any one
who has not learned by experience to give the prickly
pear bushes a wide berth.

The leaves of the prickly pear are good for ostriches
and cattle, though the work of burning off the thorns
and cutting the leaves in pieces is so tedious that it is
only resorted to when other food becomes scarce. One
kind, the kahlblad, or “bald leaf,” has no thorns, It
is comparatively rare, and farmers plant and cultivate
it as carefully as they exterminate its troublesome
relative.

Another kind of cactus, which, if the beautiful forms
in Nature were utilized for artistic purposes half as
much as they deserve to be, would long since have
been recognized as a most perfect model for a graceful
branched candlestick, is used as food for cattle during

58 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

long droughts, being burnt and cut up in the same
manner as the prickly pear. When the plant is in
flower, each branch of the candlestick seems tipped
with a bright yellow flame.

Another of our many eccentric-looking plants, the
Jinger-poll, is also used in very dry seasons to feed
cattle; the men who go about the country cutting it up
being followed by the animals, which are very fond of
it, but which, owing to its excessive toughness, are un-
able to bite it off. It grows close to the ground ; its
perfect circle of thick, short fingers, rather like gigantic
asparagus, radiating stiffly from the centre. How the
cattle manage to eat it without serious consequences
has always been a matter of wonder to me, for the
whole plant is filled with a thick, white, milky juice,
which when dry becomes like the strongest india-
rubber. We often used this juice for mending china,
articles of jewellery, and many things which defied
coaguline, to which, indeed, we found it superior.

One of our plants always reminded me of those
French sweets, threaded on a stiff straw, which often
form a part of the contents of a bon-bon box. The
thick, succulent leaves, shaded green and red, with a
frosted, sparkling surface which increases the resem-
blance te the candied sweets, and all as exactly alike
in shape and size as if made in one mould, are threaded
like beads at equal distances along the stem, which
passes through a little round hole in the very centre of
each. They can all be taken off and threaded on again
just as they were before.

PLANTS OF THE KARROO, 59

Close to the ground, and growing from a little round
root apparently belonging to the bulbous tribe, you
sometimes—though only rarely—see a tiny mass of
soft, curling fibres, delicate and unsubstantial-looking
as a little green cloud. Even the foliage of asparagus
would look coarse and heavy if placed beside this really
ethereal little plant, which yet is durable, for I have
now with me a specimen which, though gathered five
years ago, is still quite unchanged.

The wild tobacco is a common—indeed too common
—plant in the Karroo; it has clusters of long, narrow,
trumpet-shaped flowers, of a light yellow, its leaves are
small, and it resembles the cultivated tobacco neither
in appearance nor in usefulness. Indeed it is one of
our worst enemies, being poisonous to ostriches, which
of course—true to their character—lose no opportunity
of eating it. We made deadly war upon it, and when-
ever during our rides about the farm we came upon a
clump of its blue-green bushes, we would make up a
little bonfire at the foot of each, and burn it down to
the ground. But it is tenacious of life, and its roots go
down deep, so its career of evil was only cut short for a
time. Besides which, our efforts to keep it under were
of little avail while our neighbours, “letting things
slide,” in true colonial fashion, allowed the plants to
run wild on their own land; from whence the seeds
were always liable to be washed down to us during
“a big rain,” when the deep slwits which everywhere
intersect the country become, in a few hours, raging
torrents, dashing along at express speed.

5

60 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

Strangely enough, when T , some years ago,
was travelling in Australia, to which country he had
brought some ostriches from the Cape, he found that
wild tobacco grew nowhere throughout the length and
breadth of the land, excepting just in the very region
in which the birds had been established. During that
trip he also found that the “salt-bush” of Australia,
which is there considered the best kind of food for sheep,
is almost identical with the brack-bosch of the Cape
Colony, the only difference being that it grows higher.
We have also seen the same bush growing in Algeria,
and near Marseilles.

On the lower slopes of some of our mountains grow
tall euphorbias, shooting up straight and stiff as if
made of metal, and branching out in the exact form
of the Jewish candlestick sculptured on the arch of
Titus in Rome. Some of these euphorbias attain the
height of forty feet—quite important dimensions in
that comparatively treeless land. They impart an air of
melancholy and desolation to the landscape; and look
particularly weird and uncanny when, on a homeward
ride, you pass through a grove of them at dusk.

One more queer plant in conclusion of these slight
and very unscientific reminiscences of our flora, which
I trust may never meet the eye of any botanist. The
kerzbosch, or candle-bush, a stunted, thorny plant, if
lighted at one end when in the green state, will burn
steadily just like a wax candle, and is used as a torch
for burning off the thorns of prickly pear, ete.

CHAPTER IV.
OUR LITTLE HOME,

Building operations—A plucking—Ugliness of Cape houses—Our rooms
—Fountain in sitting-room a failure—Drowned pets—Decoration of
rooms —Colonist must be Jack-of-all-trades—Cape waggons—Shoot-
ing expeditions—Strange tale told by Boer.

ON our first arrival in the Karroo we were unable to
take up our abode at once on our own farm ; the best of
the three small Dutch houses on it being little better
than a hut, and consisting but of two small and badly-
built rooms ; with mud floors and smoke-blackened reed
ceilings, as far removed from the horizontal as the
roughly-plastered walls, which bulged and retreated in
all unexpected directions, were from the perpendicular
—the whole architecture, if so pretentious a term may
be used, being entirely innocent of any approach to a
straight line or correct angle. We at once commenced
building operations ; in the meanwhile renting a little
house which happened to be vacant on the next farm,
about an hour’s rough, but pretty ride from our own.
Now came a busy time for T , and for his manager
—the latter already installed, uncomfortably enough,
in the old Dutch house—for besides the brick-making

62 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM,

and building, and the deepening of the well near the
house, there was, as must always be the case on starting
a new farm, much to be done, and everything required
to be done at once. T spent most of his time at
“Swaylands,” as we named our farm; and very enjoy-
able for me were the days when I could spare a few
hours from household duties to ride over with him, to
watch the progress of the new rooms, or to be initiated
into some of the mysteries of ostrich-farming, all delight-
fully new and strange to me.

The first sight of a plucking interested me espe-
cially ; and it was not without a proud feeling of
ownership that I sat on the ground in one corner of
the kraal, or small temporary enclosure, helping to tie
up in neat bundles our own first crop of soft, white,
black, or grey feathers while watching the busy scene,
Ji all comes back to me now with the clearness of a
photograph — the bright, cloudless, metallic-looking
South African sky above us; and for a background the
long range of rocky mountains, each stain on their
rugged sides, each aloe or spekboom plant growing on
them, sharply defined in that clear atmosphere as if
seen through the large end of an opera-glass. In the
foreground a forest of long necks, and a crowd of
foolish, frightened faces, gaping beaks, and throats all
puffed out with air — the latter ludicrous grimace,
accompanied sometimes by a short, hollow sound, half
grunt, half cough, being the ostrich’s mode of express-
ing deepest disgust and dejection. There is a constant
heavy stamping of powerful two-toed feet; an occa-

OUR LITTLE HOME. 63

sional difference of opinion between two quarrelsome
birds eager to fight, craning their snake-like necks
hissing savagely, and “ lifting up themselves on high,”
but unable, owing to the closeness with which they
are packed, to do each other any injury ; and the real
or fancied approach of a dog causes a sudden panic
and general stampede of the silly birds into one corner
of the kraal, threatening to break down its not very
substantial hedge of dry bush—one commotion scarcely
having time to subside before another arises.

And through it all, T , Mr. B , and our Kaffirs
are calmly going in and out among the struggling
throng ; all hard at work, the two former steadily and
methodically operating with their shears on each bird
as in its turn it is tugged along, like a victim to the
sacrifice, by three men ; two holding its wings, and the
third dragging at its long neck till one fears that with
all its kicks, plunges, tumbles, and sudden wild leaps
into the air, its flat, brainless little head will be pulled
off. One extra-refractory bird, when finally subdued,
and helpless in the hands of the pluckers, avenges his
wrongs upon the ostrich standing nearest to him in the
crowd; and, for every feather pulled from his own
tail, gives a savage nip to the head of his unoffending
neighbour, a mild bird, who does not retaliate, but
looks puzzled, his own turn not yet having come. It is
amusing to watch the rapid retreat of each poor
denuded creature when set free from his tormentors.
He goes out at the gate looking crestfallen indeed, but
apparently much relieved to find himself still alive.

64 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

How we enjoyed that day ! and how delightful was
our ride back to “Hume Cottage” in the evening,
with the proceeds of the plucking tied up in two large
white bags, and fastened to our saddles; making us
look as if we were taking our clothes to the wash.
My bundle, by the way, came to grief en route, and
suddenly — somewhat to the discomposure of my
horse—we found ourselves enveloped in a soft snow-
storm of feathers, which went flying and whirling
merrily away across the veldt; many of them, in
spite of our prompt dismounting to rush madly hither
and thither in pursuit, quite evading all our efforts
to catch them.

The modern houses on Cape farms are all built
entirely on utilitarian principles, with no thought of
grace or beauty ; indeed, the square and prosaic pro-
portions of the ordinary packing-case seem to have
been chosen as the model in the construction of nearly
every room. Even if the inmates had any idea of
comfort, or feeling for the picturesque—of both of
which they are quite innocent—it would be impossible
ever to make such rooms look either home-like or
pretty. As it is, they are most often like very un-
comfortable schoolrooms.

Our first plan on coming to South Africa was the
ambitious one of setting our fellow-colonists a brilliant
example by striking out something entirely new in
farm architecture ; and many times during our stay at
Walmer would we talk over the white Algerian house,
with the comfort and loveliness of which our ostrich-

OUR LITTLE HOME, 65

farm, wherever it might be, was to be transformed into
a little oasis in the desert. T covered many sheets
of writing-paper with designs for the horse-shoe arches ;
and with neatly-drawn plans for the long, cool Oriental
rooms, surrounding the square open court ; in the centre
of which was to be a fountain with bananas, ferns, blue
lotus, and other water-loving plants.

Alas! however; when we did take a farm, we found
ourselves obliged after all to sacrifice beauty to useful-
ness, just like our neighbours. The unlovely Dutch
house, incapable as it was of adapting itself to Moorish
arches, had to be utilized; the press of other work
allowing us no time for pulling down and re-building,
neither for indulging in any artistic vagaries; and the
two first rooms which—to meet immediate require-
ments—were added as soon as bricks could be made for
them, were, for greater haste, built straight and square,
in the true packing-case style. They were the same
size as the two old Dutch rooms; flat-roofed like them,
and built on to them in a straight line—the four, each
with its alternate door and window, reminding us of the
rows of little temporary rooms which form the dwellings
of railway workmen when a new line is being made,
and which are moved on as the work progresses.

After this unpromising beginning, it is needless to
say that our idea of building an Algerian house was
given up; and though in time we improved the out-
ward appearance of our dwelling; breaking the straight-
ness of its outlines by the addition of a pretty little
sitting-room projecting from the front, and of a large

66 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

bedroom and store at the back; and plastering and
whitewashing the dirty old bricks and the too-clean
new ones; nothing can ever make it anything but an
ugly house as far as the outside is concerned. With the
interior, however, we have been more successful; and
our sitting-room, now consisting of a T-shaped arrange-
ment of three small rooms thrown into one, is really—
considering the roughness of the materials with which
we started—a very bright and cosy little nook. It is
most quaint and irregular, for one end of it is a room
of the crookedly-built Dutch house; and when the
strong old wall, three feet thick, dividing the latter
from the new part, was knocked away, the old ceiling
and floor turned out to be considerably lower than the
new. We dignify the deep step thus formed by the
name of “ the dais.”

The latest-added portion of the room—built from
T. "sown design—is the prettiest of all; and the bow
window at the end, always filled with banana-plants,
ferns, creepers, garden and wild flowers, forms quite
a little conservatory. Though disappointed of our
Moorish court, we could not give up the idea of our
fountain without a struggle, and attempted to establish
it on a very small scale in this little room; in the cement
floor of which, not far from the bow window, we made
a round basin some four feet deep, which we filled with
water. Then we wrote to Walmer for some roots of
our favourite blue lotus; with which, and with the
arums’ white cups, the surface of the water was to be
studded ; and by-and-by—we thought—as soon as the

“WOOU-DNILLIS WNO

OUR LITTLE HOME. 67

completion of more necessary operations should allow
leisure for ornamental work, how delightful it would
be, on coming in out of the dust and the heat, to hear
the sweet, refreshing sound of falling water; and to see
the bright drops splashing on the border of maidenhair
fern which was to surround the tiny basin.

But, after all, our anticipations were never realized ;
for we soon saw that it would be necessary to choose
between our fountain and our pet animals—so numer-
ous among the latter were cases of “ Found Drowned.”
Our meerkats, in their irrepressible liveliness, were
always tumbling in; and, being unable to climb up the
straight sides, would swim round and round calling
loudly for assistance ; but we were not always at hand
to play the part of Humane Society, and the losses were
many, including—saddest of all—that of a too-inquisi-
tive young ostrich.

Thousands of gnats, too, as noisy and nearly as
venomous as mosquitoes, were brought into existence ;
and, romantic as was the idea of water-plants growing
in our little room, it had to be given up; and we con-
tented ourselves with seeing our blue lotus in the form
of a dado, on which we stencilled and painted them
ourselves in the true Egyptian conventional style, on
alternate long and short stalks. We bordered the fire-
place, and decorated the tops of the doors, with a fow
good old tiles from Damascus, Tunis, Algiers, and
the Alhambra; three beautiful hand-painted sarongs,
brought by T—— from Java, formed each as perfect
and artistic a portiére as could be wished, and hid the

68 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

ugly, ill-made doors; and with Turkish rugs, Oriental
embroideries of all kinds, Moorish and Kabyle pottery,
Algerian coffee-tables and brackets, ancient Egyptian
curiosities, and other trophies of travel, we produced a
general effect which—especially in South Africa—was
not to be despised.

I have conceitedly said “we,” as if I had hada great
share in the work, but it was in reality T who did
it all, and to whose artistic taste the prettiness of our
little home is entirely due. The capacity, too, for
turning his hand to anything, which makes him so
perfect a colonist, was invaluable to us on that out-of-
the-way farm ; for, there being, after the departure of
the itinerant workmen who built our rooms, no paint-
ers, glaziers, masons, carpenters, or other such useful
people anywhere nearer than Graaff-Reinet—four hours
by rail from Klipplaat—all the repairs and improve-
ments of the house devolved on him. One day he
would be putting new panes of glass in the windows—
the next, bringing a refractory lock into proper work-
ing order, or making and putting up bookshelves—
then, perhaps, a defective portion of the roof would
claim his attention, or he would enter on a long and
persevering conflict with a smoky chimney. One of
the latter, indeed, carelessly run up by our ignorant
builder, was not cured until T had taken it all
down and built it over again ; since which its behaviour
has been blameless.

N.B.—When a chimney wants sweeping in the
Karroo, the usual mode of procedure is to send a fowl
down it.

OUR LITTLE HOME, 69

Our furniture, most of which was of that best kind of
all for a hot climate, the Austrian bent wood, arrived
in very good condition ; and in spite of the rough roads
along which the waggon had to bring it from Klip-
plaat, hardly anything was damaged.

These Cape waggons, clumsy as they look, are
splendidly adapted to the abrupt ups and downs of the
country over which they travel. They are very long ;
and are made in such a way that, instead of jolting and
jumping up and down as an English waggon, under
the trying circumstances of a journey in South Africa,
would ceftainly consider itself justified in doing, they
turn and bend about in quite a snake-like manner,
and the motion, even on the raughest road, is never
unpleasant. They are usually drawn by a span of
sixteen or eighteen oxen, sometimes by mules ; and very
noisily they go along; night—their favourite travel-
ling-time in hot weather—being made truly hideous
while a caravan of some four or five of them is coming
slowly on, with wheels creaking and groaning in all
possible discordant notes, and the Hottentot drivers and
voorloopers—boys who run in front—cracking their
long hide whips, and urging on their animals with more
fiendish sounds than ever issued even from Neapolitan
throats. One has to get accustomed to the noise; but,
apart from this drawback, the waggons are most com-
fortable for travelling. They are large and spacious,
and roofed in by firmly-made tents which afford com-
plete protection from sun and rain; and for night
journeys no Pullman car ever offered more luxurious

70 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

sleeping accommodation than does the kartel, a large,
stru_ framework of wood, as wide as a double-bed,
suspended inside the tent of the waggon. Across this
framework are stretched narrow, interlacing strips of
hide; mattresses and rugs are placed on it, and no
more comfortable bed could be desired. The goods are
all stowed underneath the karéel, in the bottom of the
waggon.

People often make shooting expeditions to the in-
terior, travelling in waggons and sometimes remaining
away a year at a time. T has taken several
journeys of this kind, and speaks of it as a mst enjoy-
able life. You take a horse or two and a couple of
pointers ; you get plenty of shooting during the day;
and come back to the waggon in the evening to find a
bright fire burning near, and dinner being prepared
by the servants. The latter camp at night under the
waggon. The average distance travelled is twenty-five
miles a day. There is no need to take provisions for
the cattle, as they are always able to graze on the way ;
tracts of land, called public outspans, being set apart
by Government at convenient distances along the road
as halting-places for waggons.

A Boer once told T a strange story of how—
during one of the numerous wars with the natives—he,
his wife, and children were travelling at night, when
suddenly, without any apparent cause, the waggon
came to a standstill; the oxen, though beaten hard and
pulling with all their might, being unable to move it,
although the road at that place was perfectly level.

OUR LITTLE HOME. vB

After some delay, the cattle were just as suddenly again
able to move the waggon without difficulty ; apd the
Boer and his family proceeded on their way. They
found afterwards that, by this strange interruption to
their journey, they had been prevented from encounter-
ing an armed party of hostile natives, who just at that
time were crossing their road some distance in front of
them.

CHAPTER V.
CLIMATE OF THE KARROO.

Cape Colony much abused—Healthy climate—Wonderful cures of con-
sumption—Karroo a good place for sanatorium—Rarity of illness
and accidents —The young colonist—An independent infant—Long
droughts—Hot winds—Dust storms—Dams—Advantage of possess-
ing good wells—Partiality of thunderstorms—Delights of a brack
roof—Washed out of bed—After the rain—Our horses—Effects of
rain indoors—Ops/aag—The Cape winter—What to wear on Karroo
farms.

OF all portions of the globe, surely none has ever been
so much grumbled at, abused, and despised, both justly
and unjustly, as the poor Cape Colony. Hardly any
one who has lived under its cloudless skies has a kind
word to say for it ; indeed, it is quite the usual thing
to speak of one’s residence in it as of an enforced and
miserable exile—a kind of penal servitude—though,
strangely enough, most of those who go so rejoicingly
home to England, like boys released from school,
manage sooner or later to find their way out again;
as though impelled by a touch of some such magic as
that which is supposed to draw back to the Eternal
City those who have once drunk at the Trevi fountain.

One of the legion of grumblers tells you the Cape

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO. 73

Colony is the worst-governed country in the world,
which indeed—with the exception, perhaps, of Turkey
and Morocco—it undoubtedly is; the grievance of
another is that the country in general, and ostrich-
farming in particular, is played out, that no more for-
tunes are to be made, and that life on the farms offers
nothing to compensate sufficiently for the numerous
discomforts and privations which have to be endured ;
the heavy import duties and consequent ruinous prices
of all the necessaries of life, with the exception of meat,
depriving the colonist of even that small consolation of
knowing that, though uncomfortable, he is at least
economizing. Sybarites accustomed to home comforts
make constant comparisons between English and colonial
houses, greatly to the disparagement of the latter;
epicures complain bitterly of the wearying sameness of
the food, resenting most deeply the perpetual recurrence
on the table, morning, noon, and night, of the ubiquitous
though delicious Angora goat ; while ladies are eloquent
on the never-ending topics of the bad servants—cer-
tainly the worst that can be found anywhere—the
difficulties of housekeeping, the rough roads, the incon-
venient distance from everywhere, the trouble and
delay of getting provisions, ete. sent up to the farms,
and, saddest of all, the want of society and the intoler-
able dulness, In fact, the general opinion seems to be
that of Mrs. Jellyby’s daughter, that “Africa is a
Beast!” You hear so much grumbling, see such bored,
dissatisfied faces, and are treated to so many gloomy
and desponding views of colonial life, that it is quite a

74 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM,

refreshing contrast when you chance to meet an
American who is contemptuously jocular on the subject
of the ugly scenery, eccentric plants, queer beasts, and
general all-pervading look of incompleteness, and who
guesses “South Africa was finished off in a hurry late
on Saturday night, with a few diamonds thrown in to
compensate.”

Even the climate comes in for its share of abuse: its
long droughts, its hot winds, its incessant sunshine—as
if you could have too much of that !—and its general
dissimilarity to the climate of England—for which
surely it ought to be commended,—all are added to the
long list of complaints against a land which seems,
like the much-abused donkey, to have no friends. And
yet that climate, with all its drawbacks and discomforts,
is the healthiest in the world; and most especially is
the Karroo district the place of all others for invalids
suffering from chest complaints. No one need die of
consumption, however advanced a stage his disease may
have attained, if he can but reach the Cape Colony and
proceed at once inland. He must not stay near the
coast; it would be as well-—indeed better—for him to
have remained in England to die among friends ; for in
the moist neighbourhood of the sea the disease cannot
be cured, its progress is simply retarded for a while.
But a railway journey of only a few hours lands the
patient in the very heart of the Karroo; and once in
its dry atmosphere, he may hope—nay expect—not
a mere prolongation for a few months of such a life as
one too often sees sadly ebbing away in Mediterranean

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO, 75

winter resorts, but a return to health and strength,
Among our Cape acquaintances are some whom T
knew when, years ago, they landed in the Colony—
given up by their doctors at home, and so near the last
stage of consumption that on arriving they could not
walk on shore, but had to be carried from the vessel—
and who are now as strong and well as any of their
neighbours. Indeed, on my introduction to more than
one of these stout and hearty colonists, I have found
it quite impossible to realize that they, at any time,
could have been consumptive invalids! Unfortunately,
too many presume on the completeness of their cure;
and, instead of resigning themselves to settling and
finding permanent occupation in the colony, as all whose
lungs have once been seriously affected ought to do,
return to England; and, having grown reckless with
long residence in a land where “nothing gives you
cold,” soon fall victims to their treacherous native
climate; the first exposure to its damp chilliness
generally bringing back in full force the foe from whose
attacks they would always have been safe, had they
not left the dry Karroo’s protection.

It is a pity European doctors do not know more
about this wonderful climate for consumptive patients ;
and also that so few inducements are held out for the
latter to settle in the country. What a splendid plan
it would be, and how many valuable lives might be
‘saved, if some clever medical man—himself perhaps
just enough of an invalid to prefer living out of England

—were to take a large farm in the Karroo, and “run”
6

76 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

it as a sanatorium. This could be done without the
expenditure of any very large amount of capital, as
land can be rented from Government at the rate of a
very moderate sum per annum. It would be necessary
to choose a farm possessing a good fountain; thus a
constant supply of vegetables could be kept up, and
herds of cattle, flocks of sheep and Angoras, and plenty
of fowls, turkeys, etc. be maintained to provide the
establishment with meat, milk, butter, and eggs—
rendering it to a great extent self-supporting. The
young men could occupy themselves in superintending
the farming operations, and thus would not only have
plenty to do, but would at the same time be gaining
health. A good troop of horses would of course be kept,
so that patients might have as much riding and driving
as they wished ; there would be some shooting, as there
are partridges, several birds of the bustard tribe, anda
few antelopes; and with a house whose interior pre-
sented the comforts of a refined home, with prettily-
furnished rooms, and with a good supply of books,
papers, and magazines, life in that bright, sunny land
might be made pleasant enough. The healthiness of
the country is greatly owing, not only to its dryness,
but also to the fact of its being a table-land, one thou-
sand feet above the sea; thus the nights are always
cool, and one is generally glad of two blankets, even
in summer.

Nor is consumption the only enemy who has to
retreat powerless before the Karroo’s health-giving °
atmosphere ; many other illnesses seem equally unable

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO. 77

to obtain a footing in that perfect climate. T——, for
instance, who from childhood had been subject to severe
attacks of asthma, was completely cured by his residence
on the ostrich farms; and a troublesome remittent fever,
caught in the West Indies, from which I had suffered,
off and on, during seven years, left me entirely from the
time we went to live at Swaylands. There seems, indeed,
to be much of truth in the boastful assertion one so often
hears, “ No one is ever ill here!” and the wonder is,
not that doctors are so sparsely distributed through-
out the Karroo, but that they ever think it worth .
while to settle there at all. People live quite con-
tentedly two or more days’ drive from the nearest
doctor — medical help from Port Elizabeth being
equally, if not more, inaccessible, owing to the fact
that the train does not run every day—and from year’s
end to year’s end they not only are never ill, but seem
alyo quite exempt from the usual accidents which in
other parts of the world are apt to befall humanity.
They go out shooting, and their horses buck them off—
a trifling, everyday event which is taken as a matter
of course ; they gallop recklessly across the veldt, over
ground so full of treacherous holes that a horse is
liable at any moment to get a sudden and ugly fall—
indeed, he often does, but the colonist always rises
unhurt; they drive home late at night along the
roughest of roads, at a furious pace—often after im-
bibing far more than is usually conducive to safety—
and their Cape carts or American spiders very naturally
tumble into sluits, run into wire fences, perform somer-

78 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

saults down steep banks, and go through other startling
acrobatic feats, all with perfect impunity to the occu-
pants. No legs, arms, or ribs, to say nothing of necks,
are ever broken.

And when the young colonist makes his first appear-
ance on this world’s stage, his advent is not made the
occasion for any undue display of fuss or anxiety. It
is not thought worth while to summon the doctor from
his distant abode; some old Dutch or Hottentot
woman, who has been a grandmother so often that
her experience is large, is called in, and all goes well.
The young colonist himself is invariably a flourishing
specimen of humanity ; the childish ailments to which
so many of his less robust European contemporaries
succumb, cause him no trouble, and, if indeed they
attack him at all, he weathers them triumphantly.
He thrives in the pure fresh air, revels in the healthy
out-door life, eats, of course, to an enormous and
alarming extent, and grows up a young giant. He
enjoys the same immunity from accident as his elders,
passing safely through even more “hair - breadth
’scapes” than they; his sturdy, independent spirit
makes him equal to any emergency, and enables him,
in whatever circumstances of difficulty or danger he
may be placed, to take very good care of himself.

On the farm next to ours a tiny boy of three, while
playing with the windlass of a deep well, and hanging
on to the rope, suddenly let himself down with a run
into the water. He was not much disconcerted, how-
ever ; but, with wonderful presence of mind for such

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO, 79

a baby, managed to get his feet firmly on the bucket,
and finding the length of the rope just, though only
just, allowed his mouth to come above the surface,
remained immovable, roaring steadily and lustily till
assistance came.

The long droughts are certainly very trying ; indeed
they could not possibly be endured by any country
less wonderfully fertile than South Africa, where it
is calculated that three good days’ rain in the year,
could we but have this regularly, would be sufficient
to meet all the needs of the land. But often, for more
than a year, there will be no rain worth mentioning ;
the dams, or large artificial reservoirs, of which each
farm usually possesses several, gradually become dry ;
and the veldt daily loses more of its verdure, till at
last all is one dull, ugly brown, and the whole plain
lies parched and burnt up under a sky from which
every atom of moisture seems to have departed—a
hard, grey, metallic sky, as different as possible from
the rich, deep-blue canopy which, far away to the
north, spreads over lovely Algeria. The stock, with
the pathetic tameness of thirst, come from all parts of
the farm to congregate close round the house; the
inquiring ostriches tapping with their bills on the
windows as they look in at you, and the cattle lowing
in piteous appeal for water; and you realize very
vividly the force of such Scriptural expressions as,
“the heaven was shut up,” or, “a dry and thirsty land
where no water is.”

Then the hot winds sweep across the country,

80 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

making everybody tired, languid, head-achy and cross.
Indeed, excessive irritability seems to be the general
result of hot winds in all parts of the world ; in Egypt,
for instance, there is never so much crime among the
natives as while the khamseen is blowing ; every out-
break of the Arabs in Algiers invariably occurs during
an extra bad sirocco; and in a Spanish family I knew
in Havana there obtained a very sensible rule, unani-
mously adopted to avoid collisions of temper, 7.¢., on the
days of an especially venomous hot wind peculiar to
Cuba an unbroken silence was maintained ; no member
of the family, on any pretence whatever, speaking to
another. Even our pets were sulky on a hot wind day ;
and as for the ostriches, they were deplorable objects
indeed as they stood gasping for breath, with pendent
wings, open bills, and inflated throats, the pictures of
imbecile dejection. In fact, everything human, four-
footed, and feathered, in the whole Karroo, was as
thoroughly unhappy as it could well be; with the sole
exception of myself. My spirits, instead of falling
below zero, would always rise in proportion as the sur-
rounding air became more like the breath of a furnace ;
this was not owing, as may perhaps be supposed, to the
possession of so rare a sweetness of temper as to render
-“me happy under even the most adverse circumstances,
but simply to a real and intense enjoyment of that
weather which everyone else hated. While T ;
closing every door and window as tightly as possible
(which, however, is not saying much), would retire to
his bath, there to spend a couple of hours in company

OSTRICHES IN A Hor WIND.

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO. 81

with books, papers, and numberless lemon-squashes, if
lemons happened to be attainable; I would carry my
chair outside, and, as I darned socks or repaired the
latest crap-doors torn in our garments by the thorns,
would revel in my bath of hot, dry air.

The dust which the hot wind brings with it is, how-
ever, a nuisance. There is more than enough dust at
the best of times ; and the difficulties—already consider-
able—of keeping a Karroo house neat and clean, are not
lessened by the fact that, ten minutes after a careful
progress round the room with that most perfect of
dusters, a bunch of ostrich-feathers, you can distinctly
sign your name with your finger on the little black
writing-table, or make a drawing on the piano. Butin
a good hot wind you have far more than this average,
everyday amount of “ matter in the wrong place,” and
you eat and breathe dust.

Sometimes the wind carries the dust high up into the
air, in straight, solid-looking columns rising from the
ground just as a water-spout rises from the sea. An
artist wishing to depict the pillar of the cloud going
before the Israelites might well take the form of one of
them as a model. Occasionally you see two or three of
these columns wandering about the veldt in different
directions ; and woe betide the imperfectly-built house,
or tall wind-mill pump, which has the ill-luck to stand
in the path of one of these erratic visitants! We, alas!
can speak from experience, our own “Stover” mill
having been chosen as a victim and whirled aloft to its
destruction! T , while at Kimberley, in the early

82 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

days of the diamond-fields, has often seen these dusty
whirlwinds going about the camp, passing between the
long rows of tents as if hesitating for a time which to
attack ; then suddenly “ going for” one of them, causing
instantaneous collapse and confusion.

Every Karroo house has a dam near it, and on a large
farm there are generally three or four more of these
reservoirs in different parts of the land. The selection
of a suitable site for a dam requires some experience.
An embankment is thrown up across a valley, where
from the rising ground on either side the water is
collected. The ground must be “brack,” a peculiar
kind of soil which, though loose and friable, is not
porous. This brack is often used to cover the flat roofs
of the houses ; but unless it is well sifted and laid on
thickly, dependence cannot always be placed on it, as
we have several times found to our cost. Rows of
willows or mimosas are generally planted along the
banks of the dams; and though the moisture which is
sucked up by their thirsty roots can ill be afforded, yet,
in that most treeless of lands, their bright, fresh green
is of immense value; and the poor ugly houses, standing
so forlornly on the bare veldé, with but the narrowest
and scantiest of gardens—if any—between them and
the surrounding desert, seem redeemed from utter
dreariness and desolation, and some slight look of home
and of refinement is imparted by the dam’s semicircle
of trees. A good-sized dam is sometimes half a mile
broad, and, when just filled after a good thunder-
shower, is quite an imposing sheet of water. Occasion-

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO., 83

ally, in very heavy thunder-storms, the glorious supplies
pour in too lavishly ; the embankment, unable to resist
the pressure, gives way ; and the disappointed farmer,
who has ridden up in the hope of feasting his eyes on
watery wealth, beholds his treasure flowing uselessly
and aimlessly away across the veldt.

Then, too, even the noblest of dams must dry up in
a long drought ; and that landowner is wise who does
not depend solely on this form of water-supply, but
who takes the precaution of sinking one or more good
wells, This is expensive work—especially when, as in
our case, the hard rock has to be blown away by dyna-
mite; a party of navvies, encamped on the farm for
weeks, progressing but slowly and laboriously at the
rate of about one foot per day, for which the payment
is £5 a foot; but the advantage is seen during the pro-
tracted droughts. Then, on farms which only possess
dams, the ostriches and other stock are seen lying dead
in all directions, a most melancholy sight. Where there
is a well, however, the animals can always be kept
alive. The water may go down rather low, and the
supply doled out to the thirsty creatures may not be
very plentiful; but with careful management no stock
need be lost during the longest of droughts. But, even
with our good well, we found it necessary to be very
economical; and the few small eucalypti and other
trees which, with great difficulty, we kept alive near
the house, have often for weeks together been obliged
to content themselves with the soapy water from the
baths ; while our poor little patch of kitchen-garden

84 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

has more than once had to be sacrificed and allowed to
dry up—the water necessary for its irrigation being
more than we could venture to spare.

In some parts of the country the inhabitants are
occasionally in terrible straits for want of water; and
during one severe drought some passing strangers, who
rested a few hours at our house, told us a horrid story
of how, at one of the “ cantines ” (combinations of inn
and general store) along their road, they had asked for
water to wash their hands, and a scanty supply was
brought, with the request that no soap might be used,
that same water being ultimately destined to make the
tea! It sounds incredible, but I fear it is more likely
to be truth than fiction, for the Dutch at the Cape are
dirty enough for anything.

The partiality of the thunder-storms is surprising ;
sometimes one farm will have all its dams filled, while
another near it does not get a drop of rain. Often,
during a whole season, the thunder-clouds will follow
the same course; one unlucky place being repeatedly
left out. Swaylands was once for months passed over
in this manner ; our neighbours on both sides having
an abundance of water, while we, like the unhappy
little pig of nursery fame, “had none,” and found it
difficult to restrain envy, hatred, and malice.

Then, too, the clouds have such a deceitful and
tantalizing way of collecting in magnificent masses,
and coming rolling grandly up as if they really meant
business at last—only to disperse quietly in a few
hours, disappointing all the hopes they have raised.

CLIMATE OF THE KARKOO, 85

Again and again you are deluded into believing the
long, weary drought is indeed nearing its end ; you feel
so sure there is a tremendous rain just at hand, that
you prepare for action, and, doubting the trust-
worthiness of those portions of the roof covered with
brack, are careful to remove from beneath them every-
thing liable to be spoilt by wet then, having set your
house in order, you wait eagerly to hear the first
pattering of the longed-for drops. They do not come,
however ; it all ends in nothing, and soon every cloud
is gone, and the sun blazes out once more in pitiless
splendour.

Then at last, after “ Wolf!” has been cried so often
that you are off your guard, and—obstinately refusing
to be taken in by the promising bank of clouds you
noticed in the evening—have gone off to bed, expecting
your waking eyes to rest only on the usual hard, hot,
grey-blue sky—suddenly, in the middle of the night,
you are aroused by a deafening noise, and your first
confused, half-dreaming thought is that somehow or
other you have got underneath the Falls of Niagara—
-house and all. Then a blue flash wakes you quite up,
a terrific roar of thunder shakes the house, and you
realize that what for months you have been so longing
for has come at last! But there are penalties to be paid
for it; and an ominous sound of trickling strikes your
ear. Your bedroom unfortunately has a brack roof;
and through the defective places in the latter, which
every moment become larger and more numerous,
streams of water are pouring in, till at last the room

86 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

scerns to be one large shower-bath. You think with
horror of the books, writing-case, photographs, lace-
trimmed hat, work-basket, boots, etc., all left in various
exposed positions about the room, and—most frightful
thought of all—of the coats and dresses hanging on the
row of pegs in that corner where, to judge by the sound,
the most substantial of all the cataracts seems to be
descending ; and you feel that you must learn at once
the extent of your misfortune, and rescue what you can.
You try to light a candle; but a well-directed jet of
water has been steadily playing straight down into the
candlestick, and a vicious sputter is the only response
to your efforts. You are still struggling with the candle;
trying to wipe it dry, using persuasive language to it,
and as far from getting a light as ever; when your
breath is suddenly taken away by a stream of ice-cold
water pouring over your back, and you find that you
have shipped as fine a “sea,” as ever dashed through an
incautiously-opened port. The flat roof, which has been
collecting water till it has become like a tank, has given
way under the pressure, and a wide crack has opened
just above your head. Of course you are wet through,
so is the bed on which you are sitting; and you make
a prompt descent from the latter, only to find the floor
one vast, shallow bath, in which your slippers are
floating.

And now, as you grope about, hurriedly collecting
the more perishable articles, and flinging them into the
safety of the next room—which has a corrugated iron
roof—you hear a dull roar ; far off at first, but advancing

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO, 87

nearer and nearer ; till at last a grand volume of sound
thunders past, and a broad, tossing river, impetuous as
any mountain torrent, is suddenly at your very gates,
It is the sluit coming down; filling, and perhaps widely
overflowing, its deep channel, which, straight and steep
as a railway cutting, has stood dry so long. In all
directions these slwits are now careering over the
country ; and though occasionally their wild rush does
some mischief, such as washing away ostriches’ nests,
drowning stock, or carrying into a dam such an accu-
mulation of soil as to fill it up and render it useless—

still, on the whole, the sluit is a most beneficent friend
to the farmer. And now, at the first welcome sound
of that friend’s approach, you hear overhead the loud
congratulations of the gentlemen, who, attired in ulsters,
are hard at work on the roof, whither they have
hastily scrambled to lessen as far as possible the deluge
within, “This is worth £200 to us!” you hear in
triumphant tones. “We're all right now for six
months!” Then—less joyfully—comes a query as to
how the great dam in the upper camp, which on a
former sad occasion has “gone,” will stand this time;
but the general opinion is that, with the considerable
strengthening it has since received, it will weather the
storm; and in the meanwhile souls must be possessed
in patience till the morning. And still the rain keeps
on, steadily and noisily; and with all the discom-
fort, and with all the mischief it has wrought indoors,
how thankful one is for it! And how one’s heart is
gladdened by that “sound of abundance of rain,” and

88 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

“voice of many waters!” It means everything to the
farmer ; the long drought over at last, the dams full,
the parched country revived, the poor thin cattle no
longer in danger of starvation; healthier ostriches, a
better quality of feathers, a near prospect of nests, and
in fact the removal of a load of cares and anxieties.
How early we are all astir on the morning after a
big rain! and with what eager excitement we look
out, in the first gleam of daylight, for that most wel-
come sight, the newly-filled dam! A wonderful trans-
formation has indeed been worked in the appearance
of things since last night. That unsightly dry bed of
light-coloured soil, baked by the hot sun to the hard-
ness of pottery, and broken up by a thousand inter-
secting deep cracks and fissures, which has so long
been the ugliest feature among all our unpicturesque
surroundings, offends the eye no more; and in its
place there now lies in the early morning light a
beautiful broad sheet of water, into which the yellow
sluit, a miniature Niagara Rapids, is still lavishly
pouring its wealth—not for many hours indeed will
the impetuous course of this and numerous other slits,
large and small, begin gradually to subside. Every-
where the water is standing in immense pools and
ponds ; how to feed one unlucky pair of breeding-birds
—my special charges—in a low-lying camp on the
other side of the sluit is a problem which for the
present I do not attempt to solve; indeed, to walk a
yard from the door, even in the thickest of boots and
shabbiest of garments, requires some courage, for it is

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO., 89

anything but an easy matter to keep your feet, and if
you fell, you would go into a perfect bath of mud. In
some places lie accumulations of hailstones (accounting
for the icy coldness of that impromptu shower-bath),
and, though partially melted, some of them are still of
the size of hazel nuts. The rain is over; and the
friendly clouds to which we owe so much are already
far off, and lie in white, round, solid-looking masses
along the horizon. The sky, as if softened by its
tempest of passion, seems of a bluer and more tender
tint than it has been for a long time, and all nature
appears full of joy and thanksgiving. From all sides
you hear the loud chorus of myriads of rejoicing frogs,
all croaking congratulations to each other, and all
talking at once; they seem to have sprung suddenly
into existence since last night, and their noise, discord-
ant as it is, is not unwelcome after the long silence of
the drought.

Toto, the instant he catches sight of the water,
rushes out of the house, gallops wildly down to the
dam, and plunges in, to swim round and round and
round, barking with delight. He seems as if he could
not have enough of the water ; for when, after a long
time, he has come out, and is on his way back to us,
he suddenly changes his mind, and dashes back for
another bathe. Then he seems to lose his head alto-
gether, and vents his wild spirits in a sort of frenzied
war-dance along the banks of the dam; seriously up-
setting the composure, as well as the dignity, of the
crow Bobby, a bird of neat and cleanly habits, who,

90 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

loug debarred from any more satisfactory bath than a
washing-basin, has walked down, with the air of an
explorer, to this new lake he has just discovered; and
is croaking softly and contentedly to himself as he
splashes the bright drops again and again over his
dusty black plumage. He does not like Toto ; indeed,
there is a mutual jealousy between these two favoured
pets of ours, and they are always rather glad of an
excuse for a good row, such as now ensues.

When the commotion has subsided, and Toto is at a
safe distance from the dam, a troop of ostriches come
down to drink. They are no doubt delighted to find
such an abundant supply of water, after the somewhat
scanty allowance which has been portioned out to them
of late; and they stand greedily scooping up large
quantities with their broad bills ; then assuming comical
attitudes as they stretch out their distended necks to
allow the fluid to run down. In the distance, about a
dozen other ostriches are spreading their white wings
and waltzing along magnificently—a pretty way of
expressing their satisfaction at this new and delightful
change in their circumstances, But it is sometimes an
expensive amusement ; and we feel relieved when all
have settled down, with unbroken legs, into a more
sober mood.

The fowls alone do not participate in the general
rejoicing ; their house was even less water-tight than
our room, and they all seem to have caught cold, and
look draggled and miserable. Two poor sitting-hens
have been washed out of their nests in the kraal hedge;

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO, ot

their eggs are under water, and they wander about
clucking despondently. By-and-by they will all be
happier, when the waters have subsided a little, and
they can pick succulent insects out of the softened
ground ; but in the meanwhile they show plainly that
they do not see the good of living in a half-drowned
world.

And here come two of the horses, with “Septem-
ber,”* one of our Kaffir herds, who has been out on the
veldt to find and catch them. Like most of the other
colonists, we have no stables, and when our animals
have done their day’s work, we let them go, unless an
early start has to be made in the morning; then, as
they sometimes go long distances, and are not to be
caught in a hurry, those that will be wanted are kept
in the kraal over-night. During severe droughts the
horses are fed at the house; but when there is plenty
of vegetation on the veldt, they pick up a living for
themselves. They do not get very fat, nor are they
handsome to look at; and if an English coachman could
see their bony frames and rough, ungroomed coats, he
would no doubt be filled with the profoundest con-
tempt. Yet, with all their uncouth appearance, they
are far more serviceable than his fat, sleek, overfed
animals. They can travel much longer distances; they
do not have such frequent colds and other ailments—
lameness especially is quite unknown among them—
and their services are always at the command of their
master, of any of his friends and acquaintances, or

* Many of - negroes on Cape farms are named after the months.

92 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

even of perfect strangers who may happen to require a
mount or a lift. For the colonist is as hospitable with
his horses and his vehicles as he is with everything else
that he possesses ; and the arrival of an invited guest
in a hired conveyance, though no unfrequent event at
English country homes, is a thing quite unheard-of on
Cape farms.

Although in many parts of South Africa horses do
not require shoeing at all, they need it in the Karroo,
where the ground is particularly stony. When a horse’s
shoes are worn out, he is worked for some time unshod,
until the hoof, which had grown considerably, has worn
down, and the animal begins to be a little tender-footed ;
then fresh shoes are put on. This plan renders it un-
necessary for the blacksmith to use his knife, and
ensures that the hoof is worn evenly ; thus avoiding the
lameness which in England is so often caused by the
hoof not being pared straight.

And in the meanwhile the two horses have been
saddled, and off go T and Mr. B on a tour of
inspection round the farm; first of all making a bee-
line for the opposite range of hills, where lies that
particular dam in the fate of which we are so deeply
interested. I cannot ride with them, much asI should
have liked it; for the scenes of devastation indoors
claim my attention, and with my dark-skinned hand-
maiden and another Kaflir woman, wife of one of the
herds, whom I have pressed into the service, I go to
work; boldly attacking first the most herculean task of
all, ue, the cleaning of the bedroom out of which we

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO. 93

were washed last night. Truly an Augean stable is this
first room ; and the sight of its horrors by daylight
makes me wonder how by any possibility it can ever
again be fit for human habitation. The water with
which the bed has been deluged was no clear crystal
stream—far from it—and pillows, sheets, and counter-
pane are of a rich brown hue; so are the toilet table
and the once pretty window-curtains of blue-and-white
Madras muslin, which now look melancholy indeed as
they hang down, straight and limp, from their cornice.
In fact, hardly anything in the room can boast of
having remained perfectly dry and clean; and the
floor is a pool of dirty water several inches deep. It
all looks hopeless; but we refuse to be daunted, and set
to work with a will; things dry quickly in such a sun
as is now shining brightly outside ; the mud is “ clean”
mud, too, and does not stain or spoil so irretrievably as
that of most other places. A Falstaffian bundle is made
up for the wash, which will keep a Kaffir hard at work
for two good days turning the washing-machine; a
vigorous scrubbing and “swabbing of decks” goes on
indoors ; and by the time the gentlemen return to lunch,
in the best of spirits, and reporting the dam safe and
splendidly full, things have already assumed a brighter
aspect. T spends the afternoon in repairing the
roof, and I walk about the house with a long broom,
poking and tapping the ceilings to indicate to him the
defective spots; he does the work far better than it
was originally done by the builder of the house, and
never afterwards do we have so bad a deluge.

94 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM,

It was, however, very nearly equalled in magnitude
by a previous one, which, while we were living at Hume
Cottage, gave me the first experience of a big rain—and
of a brack roof. T being away for a few days, I
was alone in the house with my one black servant, who
of course slept placidly through all the tumult of the
elements. I, on the contrary—the bedroom being
water-tight—was lying awake, listening and rejoicing
as I thought of all the good this splendid rain would do
us. Little did I suspect what it was doing in the
sitting-room ; and I cheerfully and briskly opened the
door of the latter next morning, all unprepared for the
sight which met my eyes. Poor little room! only a few
days before we had taken such pride and pleasure in
beautifying it—and now! It looked like nothing but
the saloon of a steamer which had gone down and been
fished up again. The treacherous roof had let in floods
of dirty brown water in all directions; the Turkish
rugs were half buried in mud; the new bent-wood chairs
looked like neglected old garden seats which for years
had braved all weathers; and the table-cloth, on the
artistic colours of which we had prided ourselves, gave
a very good idea of the probable state of Sir Welter
Raleigh’s cloak after serving as an impromptu carpet
for his queen. But the brunt of the storm had fallen
on two sets of hanging bookshelves, well filled with
nicely-bound volumes, and gracefully draped with some
of our pet pieces of Turkish needlework. The books
all looked as if they had been boiled; and the colour
which had come out of their swollen and pulpy bindings

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO, 95

had run down the saturated embroideries in long
streaks, showing where a red book had stood, where a
blue or green one, ete. Fortunately, a good cleaning and
washing restored most things to a tidy, if not perfectly
fresh appearance; but those poor books never recovered.

In a few days—ineredibly few—the effects of a good
rain are seen in the appearance of the veldt, which
rapidly loses its dry, burnt-up look. But, even before
the perennial bush has had time to recover its succu-
lence and verdure, all the spaces between its isolated
tufts are covered with the softest and most delicate-
looking vegetation, which, as if by magic, has sprung
suddenly into existence. All these plants, which are of
many different kinds, and some of which possess very
minute and pretty flowers, are indiscriminately called
by the Dutch opslaag (“ that which comes up ”); and if
you happen at the time of their appearance to have a
troop of infant ostriches, there is no better food for the
little creatures than this tender, bright-green foliage.
They are but short-lived little plants ; the hot sun soon
drying them up.

If the Cape Colony only possessed mountains high
enough to give an abundant rainfall, what a gloriously
fertile country it would be! Without droughts, what
a splendid possession our farm would be to us! Often,
when the coveted clouds have passed so close that it
seemed as if they must be just about to break over
the farm, T , remembering how the firing of the
great guns at Woolwich sometimes brings down the
rain, has thought it might be a good plan to send up a

96 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

fire-balloon with a charge of dynamite, and, catching
the rain on our land, prevent it from going off so
disappointingly elsewhere.

The short Cape winter, corresponding in duration
to the English summer, is never severe. Cold winds
blow from the direction of Graaff-Reinet on the not
very frequent occasions when the higher mountains
round that little town are for a short time topped with
snow. In June and July the evenings and early
mornings are decidedly cold. There is sometimes a
little frost at night, and fires are pleasant; but in the
middle of the day there is always warm, bright sun-
shine. Altogether, our winter under the Southern
Cross has nothing cheerless or depressing about it ;
and those to whom the heat of the long summer has
been a little trying, find the change most bracing and
invigorating.

For farm life in the Karroo much the. same kind of
clothing is required as in England; everything must
of course be of good strong material, and black or
very dark colours are, in that dustiest of lands, to be
avoided. Ladies’ washing dresses should not be too
delicate, nor should they be such as to require elaborate
getting up; for of all the numerous things which on
our isolated farms have to be done—either well, badly,
or indifferently—at home, the laundry department is
the very furthest from being our forte. The clothes
become so discoloured from being continually washed
in the yellow water of the dans; and the Kaffir women
—if they profess to starch and iron at all—do it so

CLIMATE OF THE KARROO. 97

badly, that the things are often unwearable. As for
myself, I was fortunate in possessing for everyday
wear strong cotton dresses of Egyptian manufacture;
which required neither starching nor ironing, and, after
being washed, and dried in the sun, were ready to be
put on at once. For driving, and especially for the
long journeys of several days, which sometimes have
to be taken in Cape carts or spiders, a light dust-cloak
is indispensable. Boots and shoes, more than anything
else, need to be strong, and for gentlemen who live the
active outdoor life of the farms, there is nothing so
serviceable as the country-made veldtschoon,

CHAPTER VI.

OSTRICHES.

An unwilling ride—First sight of an ostrich farm—Ridiculous mistakes
about ostriches— Decreased value of birds and feathers—Chicks —
Plumage of ostriches—A frightened ostrich—The plucking-Lox—
Sorting feathers—Voice of the ostrich—Savage birds—“ Not afraid
of a dicky-bird !”—Quelling an ostrich—Birds killed by men in
self-defence—Nests—An undutiful hen—Darby and Joan—A dis-
consolate widower—A hen-pecked husband—Too much zeal—
Jackie—Cooling the eggs—The white-necked crow— Poisoning
jackals—Ostrich eggs in the kitchen—A quaint old writer on
ostriches—A suppliant bird—Nest destroyed by enraged ostrich—
An old bachelor.

A FEW years before my marriage, having, as usual, fled
the terrors of the English winter, I was with a friend in
Egypt. And one morning this friend and I stood in the
court of the Hétel du Nil in Cairo ; preparing to mount
donkeys and start on a photographing expedition. to
Heliopolis (the “ On” of the Seriptures), and Matariyeh,
one of the supposed resting-places of the Holy Family
on their flight into Egypt. The fussy, bustling little
German manager of the hotel, with his usual paternal
care for his guests, was commending us, in a long and
voluble Arabic speech, to the special care and attention
of the donkey-boys; with numerous minute instruc-

OSTRICHES., 99

tions, all unintelligible to us, as to our route, ete. Then,
just as we had mounted, he turned to us and said, “I
have told them to show you something more on the
way back, something very interesting.” “What is it?”
we were about to ask; but before we could get the
words out, the ubiquitous little man had bustled off
to other business; and we ourselves were flying at a
headlong pace down the narrow Arab street, closely
pursued by our impetuvus donkey-boys ; who, anxious
to make an imposing start, urged on our animals, not
only with savage yells and blows, but also with
frequent and cruel digs from the sharp points of our
camera's tripod stand.

Even after we had left the town far behind us, and
our tyrants, for lack of an admiring crowd before
whom to exhibit us, allowed us to settle down into a
peaceful trot, it was quite useless to look to them for
any information concerning this promised interesting
sivht; for our few words of Algerian Arabic did not
avail in Egypt; and as for the European vocabulary of
the donkey-boys, it was, as usual, strictly limited to
an accurate knowledge of all the bad words in English,
French and German. N.B.—A donkey-boy is never
promoted to the dignity of being called a donkey-man,
but, however old and grey he may have grown in the
service, always retains the juvenile appellation.

On arriving at Heliopolis, our ungratified curiosity
was soon forgotten in the interest of seeing that vener-
able obelisk which once, in all probability, looked down
on the wedding procession of Joseph and the daughter

\

100 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

of “ Potipherah, priest of On;” and the sun gave us
some good pictures of that sole remaining relic of the
city where he himself was formerly worshipped. We
spent a long morning at Heliopolis and Matariyeh ;
and it was not until we had proceeded some distance
along the dusty road leading back to Cairo, that we
suddenly recollected there was yet one more sight on
our programme. The sun was blazing down fiercely
on us; we were very tired; longing visions of the
Hotel du Nil luncheon, the hour for which had already
come, filled our minds; and most devoutly did we hope
the donkey-boys might forget they had something more
to show us, and—possibly being hungry themselves—
take us straight home. But no! suddenly our reluc-
tint donkeys were abruptly turned from the homeward
course on which they were trotting so merrily; and by
main force pushed into a particularly uninviting path
branching off at right angles from the road. We made
one desperate effort to turn them back ; but our tor-
mentors flew to their heads, and, dragging, pushing,
almost lifting them along, applied the tripod’s spikes
with fresh energy. In vain did we expostulate ; ex-
plaining piteously, with all the powers of pantomime
at our command, that we were tired and hungry, and
wanted to go back to the hotel ; that we would come
and see this interesting sight, whatever it was, to-
morrow, bookra—that favourite word of the procrasti-
nating Orientals, which, like the mafiana of the
Spaniards, soon becomes hatefully familiar from con-
stant hearing, and which is second only to the terrible

OSTRICHES. ror

baksheesh! The relentless donkey-boys, beyond chuck-
ling over our disappointment, took no notice whatever
of our appeals ; and on we had to go at a rapid gallop,
stirring up dense clouds of the blinding, choking, evil-
smelling Egyptian dust; and realizing, as did Mark
Twain when ascending the Pyramid, how powerless one
is in the hands of Arabs, who surely, with such iron
wills, ought to be good mesmerists. Resigning our-
selves at last to our fate with the patience of despair,
we tried, though with but languid interest, to find out
what we were going to see; but for a long time could
get nothing intelligible from the donkey-boys, who
only enjoyed our mystification. At last one of them,
struck by a bright idea, pointed to J. ’s hat, in which
was an ostrich-feather ; and we guessed at once that
the Khedive’s ostrich farm, which we knew was some-
where in the neighbourhood of Cairo, was the object of
our unwilling ride. Here was another disappointment!
Not even a ruined mosque, picturesque Arab house, or
other possible subject for the camera, to reward us for
our fatigue and discomfort ; nothing but dry, barren-
looking land, ugly modern European buildings, and
ungainly birds! We walked hurriedly, and with great
indifference, past the rows of camps, each with its pair
of breeding-birds ; felt little regret on being denied
entrance to the incubator-rooms, which, happening to
contain young chicks, were closed to the public; and
rejoiced exceedingly when, our task done, and our
tyrants appeased by our complete subjugation, we were
at last on our way back to Cairo.

102 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

Thus, in weariness and indifference, I viewed an
ostrich farm for the first time. Could I but have had
one vision of the happy home, situated among just such
surroundings, which awaited me in the future, with what
different eyes would I have looked on all the minutest
details of a daily life destined one day to be mine!
How eagerly would I have bribed the custodian of the
incubators for just one peep at the little rough-coated
baby ostriches, if I had known what numbers of these
comical wee things were in future to be my carefully-
tended nurslings! And when T , anxious to com-
pare notes, sometimes asks me how this or that was
managed on the Khedive’s farm, and I am unable to
give accurate information, I still regret that lost oppor-
tunity ; and blush at the remembrance of the base
longing for luncheon, to which, I fear, the want of
observation was chiefly due.

It is rather surprising to find how little is known in
England about ostrich-farming. Any information on
the subject seems quite new to the hearers; and the
strangest questions are sometimes asked—as, for in-
stance, whether ostriches fly; whether they bite; whether
we ever ride or drive them, ete. It is always taken
for granted that a vicious bird administers his kick
backwards, like a horse; and there seems still to be
a very general belief in those old popular errors of which
the natural history of these creatures possesses more
than the average share. If you look at the picture of
an ostrich, you will be sure to find, in nine cases out of
ten, that the drawing is ludicrously incorrect ; the bird

OSTRICHES., 103

being almost invariably represented with three toes
instead of two ; and with a tail consisting of a large and
magnificent bunch of wing-feathers, the finest and
longest of “prime whites.” Farmers would only be
too thankful if their birds hud such tails, instead of
the short, stiff, scrubby tuft of inferior feathers which
in reality forms the caudal appendage.

Each of my friends and relatives, when first told, at
the time of our engagement, that T was “an
ostrich-farmer,” received the intelligence with an
amused smile; and the clergyman at whose church we
were married seemed quite taken aback on obtaining so
novel and unexpected an answer to his question, during
the vestry formalities, as to T ’s vocation in life,
He hesitated, pen in hand, for some time; made T——
repeat and explain the puzzling word ; and at last only
with evident reluctance inscribed it in the church books,

In the early days of ostrich-farming splendid for-
tunes were made. Then, feathers were worth £100
per lb., the plumes of one bird at a single plucking
realizing on an average £25. For a good pair of breed-
ing-birds £400, or even £500, was no uncommon price ;
and little chicks, only just out of the egg, were worth
£10 each. Indeed, the unhatched eggs have sometimes
been valued at the same amount. But, since the supply
has become so much greater than the demand, things
are sadly changed for the farmers; our best pair of
ostriches would not now sell for more than £12, and
experience has taught us to look for no higher sum
than thirty shillings for the feathers of the handsomest

104 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

bird at one plucking. At the same time, if a lady
wishes to buy a good feather in London or Paris, she
has to pay nearly the same price as in former times.*

There are not many young animals prettier than a
little ostrich-chick during the first few weeks of life.
It has such a sweet, innocent baby-face, such large eyes,
and such a plump, round little body. All its move-
ments are comical, and there is an air of conceit and
independence about the tiny creature which is most
amusing. Instead of feathers, it has a little rough coat
which seems all made up of narrow strips of material,
of as many different shades of brown and grey as there
are in a tailor’s pattern-book, mixed with shreds of
black ; while the head and neck are apparently covered
with the softest plush, striped and coloured just like a
tiger’s skin on a small scale. On the whole, the little
fellow, on his first appearance in the world, is not un-
like a hedgehog on two legs, with a long neck.

One would like these delightful little creatures to
remain babies much longer than they do ; but they grow
quickly, and with their growth they soon lose all
their prettiness and roundness; their bodies become
angular and ill-proportioned, a crop of coarse, wiry
feathers sprouts from the parti-coloured strips which
formed their baby-clothes, and they enter on an ugly
“hobbledehoy ” stage, in which they remain for two or
three years.

* Although, since these pages were written, ostriches have some-

what increased in value it cannot, of course, be expected that they
will ever again command the prices of former days.

OsTRICH-CHICKS.

OSTRICHES. 105

A young ostrich’s rough, bristly, untidy-looking
“chicken-feathers” are plucked for the first time when
he is nine months old; they are stiff and narrow, with
very pointed tips, and their ugly appearance gives no
promise of future beauty. They do not look as if they
could be used for anything but making feather brooms.
In the second year they are rather more like what
ostrich-feathers ought to be, though still very narrow
and pointed ; and not until their wearer is plucked for
the third time have they attained their full width and
softness.

During the first two years the sexes cannot be dis-
tinguished, the plumage of all being of a dingy drab
mixed with black ; the latter hue then begins to pre-
dominate more and more in the male bird with each
successive moulting, until at length no drab feathers
are left. At five years the bird has attained maturity ;
the plumage of the male is then of a beautiful glossy
black, and that of the female of a soft grey, both
having white wings and tails. In each wing there are
twenty-four long white feathers, which, when the wing
is spread out, hang gracefully round the bird like
a lovely deep fringe—just as I have sometimes in
Brazilian forests, seen fringes of large and delicate
fern-fronds hanging, high overhead, from the branches
of some giant tree.

The ostrich’s body is literally “a bag of bones ;” and
the enormously-developed thighs, which are the only
fleshy part of the bird, are quite bare, their coarse skin
being of a peculiarly ugly blue-grey colour. The little

106 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

flat head, much too small for the huge body, is also bald,
with the exception of a few stiff bristles and scanty
tufts of down; such as also redeem the neck from
absolute bareness. During the breeding season the
bill of the male bird, and the large scales on the fore
part of his legs, assume a beautiful deep rose-colour,
looking just as if they were made of the finest pink
coral ; in some cases the skin of the head and neck also
becomes red at that time.

The North African or Barbary ostriches, several of
which are to be seen at the Jardin d’Essai, in Algiers,
have bright red thighs, head, and neck, and are alto-
gether far handsomer than the Cape birds; their
feathers also, being larger, softer, and possessing longer
filaments, command much higher prices than those of
their southern brethren.

Altogether, ostriches are queer-looking creatures ;
they are so awkward, so out of proportion, and every-
thing about them, with the exception of their plumage
and their big, soft, dark eyes, is so quaintly ugly as
to suggest the idea that they have only by some
mistake survived the Deluge, and that they would be
more in their right place embedded in the fossiliferous
strata of the earth than running about on its surface.
And how they do run! Only startle an ostrich; and
very little is sufficient to do this, his nerves being of
the feeblest, and “his heart in his mouth” at even the
smallest or most imaginary danger. What a jump he
gives, and what a swerve to one side! Surely it must
have dislocated some of his joints. But no; off he goes,

OSTRICHES. 107

flinging out his clumsy legs, and twisting himself about
as he runs, till you almost expect to see him come to
pieces, or, at any rate, fling off a leg, as a lobster casts
a claw, or a frightened lizard parts from its tail, An
ostrich’s joints seem to be all loose, like those of a lay-
figure when not properly tightened up. He rapidly dis-
appears from view ; and the last you see of him he is,
as Mark Twain has it, “still running ”—apparently
with no intention of stopping till he has reached the
very centre of Africa. But his mad secamper will most
probably end a few miles off, with a tumble into a
wire fence, and a broken leg.

Sometimes, however, ostriches, when they take
fright, run so long and get so far away that their
owner never recovers them. One we heard of, to
whose tail a mischievous boy had tied a newspaper,
went off at railway speed, and no tidings of it were
ever received. Once, when T was collecting his
birds for plucking, one of them was unaccountably
seized with a sudden panic, and bolted; and though
T mounted at once and rode after it, he neither
saw nor heard of it again.

On a large farm, when plucking is contemplated,
it is anything but an easy matter to collect the birds
—the gathering together of ours was generally a
work of three days. Men have to be sent out in all
directions to drive the birds up, by twos and threes,
from the far-off spots to which they have wandered ;
little troops are gradually brought together, and col-
lected, first in a large enclosure, then in a small one,

8

108 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

the plucking-kraal, in which they are crowded together
so closely, that the most savage bird has no room to
make himself disagreeable.

Besides the gate through which the ostriches are
driven into the kraal, there is an outlet at the opposite
end, through the “ plucking-box.” ‘This latter is a
most useful invention, saving much time and trouble,
It is a very solid wooden box, in which, though there
is just room for an ostrich to stand, he cannot possibly
turn round; nor can he kick, the sides of the box
being too high. At each end there is a stout door;
one opening inside, the other outside the kraal. Each
bird in succession is dragged up to the first door, and,
after more or less of a scuffle, is pushed in and the
door slammed behind him. Then the two operators,
standing one on each side of the bux, have him com-
pletely in their power ; and with a few rapid snips of
their shears his splendid wings are soon denuded of
their long white plumes. These, to prevent their tips
from being spoilt, are always cut before the quills are
ripe. The stumps of the latter are allowed to remain
some two or three months longer, until they are so ripe
that they can be pulled out—generally by the teeth
of the Kaffirs—without hurting the bird. It is neces-
sary to pull them ; the feathers, which by their weight
would have caused the stumps to fall out naturally at
the right time, being gone. Some farmers, anxious to
hurry on the next crop of feathers, are cruel enough
to draw the stumps before they are ripe; but nature,
as usual, resents the interference with her laws, and

OSTRICHES, 109

the feathers of birds which have been thus treated
soon deteriorate. It is best to pluck only once a year.
The tails, and the glossy black feathers on the bodies
of the birds, having small quills, are not cut, but pulled
out; this, everyone says, does not hurt the birds, but
there is an unpleasant tearing sound about the opera-
tion, and I think it must make their eyes water.
After a plucking would come several very busy days
of sorting and tying up the feathers in readiness for
the market; for T , whenever he could spare the
time, preferred doing this work himself to employing
the professional sorters in Port Elizabeth, who charge
exorbitantly. During these few days everything had
to give way to feathers, large piled-up masses of which
crowded the rooms, till we seemed to be over head and
ears in feathers. Feathers covered the floor and in-
vaded every article of furniture, especially monopolizing
the dining-table; and when, at all sorts of irregular
hours, we grudgingly allowed ourselves time for rough,
impromptu meals of cold or tinned meat, we picnicked
among feathers. It was useless to attempt keeping the
rooms either tidy or clean while sorting was going on;
and we resigned ourselves to living for those two or
three days in a state at which owners of neat English
homes would shudder—indeed, those only who have
seen the process of sorting can form any idea of the
untidiness, the dust, the fluffs, and the sneezing. But
they were pleasant days; and many an interesting book
will always be associated in our minds with the sorting
of ostrich-feathers; for, while T arranged prime

b 8 xe) HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

whites, blacks, tails, feminas, chicken-feathers, etc.,
according to length, colour, and quality, I enlivened
the monotony of his work by reading aloud.

Sometimes the white feathers would be dirty—for
there is nothing an ostrich likes better than sitting
down to cool himself in the muddiest dam he can find
—then it was necessary to wash them, dip them into
strong raw starch, and shake them in the hot sun, beat-
ing two bundles of them together till quite dry. The
starch makes them look very pretty and fluffy; and
young ladies in England who economically wash their
own feathers would find it a great improvement.
Ostrich-feathers are quite tabooed by ladies in South
Africa; they are too common, every Kaffir or Hottentot
wearing one in his dirty, battered hat.

If an ostrich-feather is held upright, its beautiful
form—graceful as the frond-like branch of the cocoa-
nut palm, which it somewhat resembles—is at once seen
to be perfectly even and equal on both sides, its stem
dividing it exactly in the centre; whereas the stems of
other feathers are all more or less on one side. The
ancient Egyptians, observant of this—as of everything
in nature—chose the ostrich-feather as the sacred em-
blem of truth and justice, setting it upon the head of
Thmei, goddess of truth.

After a good rain, ostriches soon begin to make
nests; the males become very savage, and their note of
defiance—brooming, as it is called by the Dutch—is
heard in all directions. The bird inflates his neck in a
cobra-like fashion, and gives utterance to three deep

OSTRICHES. IIt

roars ; the two first short and staccato, the third very
prolonged. Lion-hunters all agree in asserting that the
roar of the king of beasts and that of the most foolish
of birds are identical in sound; with this difference
only, that the latter, when near, resembles the former
very far away. T , when hunting in the interior,
has often been deceived by the sound—expecting a
lion, and finding only an ostrich.

When the birds are savage—que?, as the Dutch call
it—they become very aggressive, and it is impossible
to walk about the camps unless armed with a weapon
of defence called a “tackey.” This is simply a long
and stout branch of mimosa, with the thorns all left on
at the end. It seems but a feeble protection against a
foe who, with one stroke of his immensely powerful
leg, can easily kill a man; the kick, no less violent
than that of a horse, being rendered infinitely more
dangerous by the formidable claw with which the foot
is armed. Those, however, who are well practised in
the use of the tackey are able, with the coolness of
Spanish bull-fighters, to stand and await the charge of
the terrible assailant. They allow him to come to
what, to the inexperienced eye, seem unpleasantly close
quarters ; then, just as he prepares to strike, the tackey
is boldly thrust into his face. The thorns oblige him
to close his eyes, and he can only run blindly forward ;
the bearer of the tackey springing on one side, and
gaining time to proceed some distance on his way, be-
fore the silly bird has recovered from his bewilderment
and makes a fresh charge, when the weapon is again
presented,

112 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

Fortunately, you are never assailed by more than
one ostrich at a time; for in the large camps of some
two thousand acres each—in which the birds are not
fenced off in pairs, but live almost in the freedom of
wild creatures—each one has his own domain, separa-
ted from those of others by some imaginary boundary-
line of his own, visible only to himself, but as clearly
marked out as the beat of a London policeman. There,
in company with one or perhaps two hens, he dwells
monarch of all he surveys; any other ostrich daring to
invade his territory is at once attacked ; and the human
intruder is closely followed, his tackey in constant
requisition, until the feathered lord of the land has
seen him safely off the premises. Immediately after
thus speeding the parting guest, the most savage bird
is quite harmless ; he dismisses you from his thoughts,
and walks quietly back, feeding as he goes. And in
the distance you see the head and long neck of his
neighbour, whose kingdom you have now entered, and
whose sharp eyes spied you out the instant your foot
crossed his frontier. He now advances towards you
with jerky, spasmodic movements, as if he were bowing
you a welcome ; this, however, is far from his thoughts,
and after sitting down once or twice to give you his
challenge—whereby he hopes you will be intimidated
—he trots up defiantly, and the tackey’s services are
again required, Thus, during a morning’s walk through
the camps, you may be escorted in succession by four
or five vicious birds, all determined to have your life
if possible, yet held completely in check by a few
mimosa thorns.

OSTRICHES. 113

When an ostrich challenges he sits down ; and, flap-
ping each broad wing alternately, inflates his neck, and
throws his head back, rolling it from side to side, and
with each roll striking the back of his head against his
bony body with so sharp and resounding a blow that
a severe headache seems likely to be the result.

A person on horseback is even more obnoxious to
the ostriches than a pedestrian; and a ride through —
the camps enables one to realize how true to life is the
description, in the Book of Job, of a vicious bird:
“ Whai time she lifteth up herself on high, she scorneth
the horse and his rider.” The creature, when prepar-
ing for an attack, draws itself up, stands on tiptoe,
stretches its neck to the full extent, and really seems
to gain several feet in height. And, indeed, it does its
best to knock you off your horse. T once saw a
man riding as desperately as Tam O’Shanter, with an
ostrich in close pursuit. It kept up with him, helping
his horse along with an occasional well-placed kick ;
while the unhappy rider, hoping to intimidate his
assailant, was again and again firing off his revolver
into the air, but without effect.

As the new arrival in a country subject to earth-
quakes begins by thinking very lightly of these dis-
turbances, but finds his appreciation of their importance
increase with every successive shock ; so the new chum
in South Africa, inclined at first to look with contempt
on the precautions taken against savage ostriches,
learns in time to have a proper respect for the foolish,
innocent-looking creatures, whose soft, dark-brown

114 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

eyes look at him so mildly (when he is on the right
side of the fence) that he finds it impossible to believe
the stories told him of their wickedness, and nothing
but a closer acquaintance can undeceive him. On one
of the farms a sturdy new-comer, six feet in height,
starting for an early morning walk, was cautioned
against going into a certain camp where the ostriches
were dangerous. He laughed at his friends’ advice,
told them he was “not afraid of a dicky-bird!” and—
disdaining the proffered tackey—started off straight-
way in the forbidden direction. He did not return
home to dinner; a search was made for him; and
eventually he was found, perched up on a high iron-
stone boulder; just out of reach of a large ostrich, which
was doing sentry, walking up and down, and keeping
a vicious eye on him. There he had sat for hours,
nearly roasted alive (ironstone boulders in the Karroo
can get so hot in the sun that it blisters your hand to
touch them); and there he would have had to sit till
sundown, had not the timely appearance of his friends
relieved him of the too-pressing attentions of the
“ dicky-bird.”

Another gentleman had a theory that any creature,
however savage, could be subdued—* quelled,” as he
said—by the human eye. One day he tried to quell
one of his own ostriches; with the result that he was
presently found by T in a very pitiable pre-
dicament, lying flat on the ground; while the subject
of his experiment jumped up and down on him, occa-
sionally varying the treatment by sitting on him.

OSTRICHES., 115

T once bought an ostrich which had killed two
men ; and which, although an unusually fine bird, was,
on account of its evil reputation, sold to him for a very
low price. Ostriches appear to have a strong aversion
to all the negro race. They attack Kaffirs and Hotten-
tots much more readily than they do their white
masters ; and although—as has just been seen—they
are very far from showing that amount of respect for
the latter which is desirable, they seem—except during
the breeding season—to stand in some sort of awe of a
white man as compared with the “niggers,” for whom
they have the deepest contempt.

They are uncertain, too, and take sudden and un-
accountable dislikes. One poor Kaffir woman, coming
up to work at the house, was attacked, inside the gate,
by one of the tame old ostriches, which—looking out
for scraps thrown from the kitchen, stealing the fowls’
food, or now and then picking up and swallowing a
delicious piece of soap left for an unguarded moment on
the washing-machine—prowled about round the house,
and of which no one had ever dreamed of being afraid.
Her solitary and scanty skirt, torn from the top to the
bottom, showed how narrow had been her escape; and
she looked livid under her dark skin, as she came in to
ask me for needle and thread to repair the rent.

It has several times happened that one of our herds,
in danger of his life, has been obliged, in self-defence,
to kill a vicious ostrich; and, the finest and most
promising birds—naturally the most savage—being
invariably the victims, the loss is always a serious one.

116 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

It is indeed no small trial, when, perhaps just as you
are comfortably seated at the breakfast table, the black
face of “ April,” “ August,” or “ September ’—fraught
with bad news, and looking very frightened and
ashamed—is suddenly thrust in at the door; and, with
much rolling of white eyeballs, a tragic tale is told, in
the most dismal of voices, and with many harrowing
details, of how “Red Wing” or “ White Neck” was
quei, and attacked the narrator up in the big camp ;
with the sad consequence that you are now minus one
of the best birds on the farm. But the poor fellow
cannot be blamed or fined for defending his life ; orders
are given to pluck and bring down the unfortunate
bird’s feathers—the last he will ever yield—and some-
how a dead bird’s plumes always seem the most

beautiful—
And then to breakfast, with

What appetite you have.”

Toto, although in general no coward, could never,
after a severe kick he received on first coming to the
farm, be brought to face a savage bird. Collies can,
however, be made very useful in collecting and driving
ostriches; and Mr. Evans, of Rietfontein, one of our
neighbours, had several which were perfectly trained ;
working as well with the birds as their relatives in
Scotland and Wales do with sheep.

A few of our birds were fenced offin breeding-camps ;
each pair having a run of about one hundred acres,
One of these camps was directly opposite the house;
and from the windows we could observe the regularity

OSTRICHES. 117

with which the two birds, sitting alternately on the
eggs, came on and off at their fixed times. The cock
always takes his place upon the nest at sundown, and
sits through the night—his dark plumage making
him much less conspicuous than the light-coloured hen ;
with his superior strength and courage, too, he is a
better defender of the nest against midnight marauders.
At nine in the morning, with unfailing punctuality,
the hen comes to relieve him, and take up her position
for the day. At the end of the six weeks of sitting,
both birds, faithfully as the task has been shared
between them, are in a very enfeebled state, and
miserably poor and thin.

One undutiful hen—haviny apparently imbibed ad-
vanced notions—absolutely refused to sit at all; and the
poor husband, determined not to be disappointed of his
little family, did all the work himself; sitting bravely
and patiently day and night, though nearly dead with
exhaustion, till the chicks were hatched out. The next
time this pair of birds had a nest, the cock’s mind was
firmly made up that he would stand no more nonsense.
He fought the hen; giving her so severe a thrashing
that she was all but killed—and this Petruchio-like
treatment had the desired effect, for the wife never
again rebelled, but sat submissively.

Very different from this couple were the Darby and
Joan in the eamp opposite our windows. One unlucky
morning the hen, frightened by a Kaffir’s dog, ran into
the wire fence, and was so terribly injured that she
had to be killed. For two years poor Darby was a dis-

118 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

consolate widower, and all attempts to find him a
satisfactory second wife were unavailing ; several hens,
which, soon after his loss, were in succession placed in
his camp, being only rescued in time, and at the tackey’s
point, from being kicked to death. The bare idea of
there being anything pathetic about an ostrich seems
absurd—and indeed this is the only instance I have
known of anything of the kind—but it was truly piti-
ful to watch this poor bird, as, day after day, and
nearly all day long, he wandered up and down, up and
down, the length of his camp, in the hard, beaten track
worn by his restless feet along the side of the fence.
When his time of mourning at length came to an end,
and poor Joan’s long-vacant place was filled, we at
first rejoiced. But we soon doubted whether, after all,
he had not been happier as a widower. For the new
wife, a magnificent hen, considerably above the average
size, had him in complete subjection ; his spirit seemed
quite broken, probably with long fretting, and he made
no attempt to hold his own, but was for the rest of his
days the most hen-pecked—or ought I to say hen-
kicked ?—of husbands. Some amount of stratagem
was even necessary on my part, to ensure that he had
enough to eat (this pair of birds, being near the house,
were under my special care, and during droughts were
daily fed by me) ; for every time he came near the food,
the greedy hen would persistently drive him away,
standing on tiptoe and hissing viciously at him—and I
soon saw that it was useless to attempt feeding them
together. But the poor, ill-used old bird and I were

OSTRICHES. 119

good friends, and quite understood one another; and
at all sorts of odd times—watching for those golden
opportunities when his tyrant was safely out of sight
at the further end of the camp—he would come down
to the fence and look out for me, and I would bring him
a good feed of mealies.

As a father, Darby was no less devoted than he had
formerly been as a husband; and to please him we
allowed his chicks to remain with him, and set the
whole family free to roam where they liked about the
veldt; breaking through the usual rule, which is to
take the little birds from the parents when two or three
days old, and herd them near the house. For they
never become as tame when brought up by the old ones
as when accustomed from the first to human society.
These poor little birds, I am sorry to say, did not
flourish under parental guardianship; indeed, it was
not long before they were all dead. For their well-
meaning, but over-zealous father, apparently thinking
no veldét good enough for them, kept them continually
on the move; and, in his perpetual search for “fresh
woods and pastures new,” took them such long distances
that he literally walked them as well as himself to
death. Not many days after the last chick’s departure,
Darby’s own poor body, worn to a skeleton by these
restless wanderings, following on six weeks of incuba-
tion, was found on the veldt.

When, as sometimes happens, one solitary chick is
reared at the house, it becomes absurdly and often
inconveniently tame. A friend of ours, on returning

120 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

to his farm at the end of a severe thunderstorm, found
that an ostrich’s nest had been washed away. Some
of the egos were rescued from the water, and—being
of course deserted by the parents—were placed in an
incubator, where, contrary to all expectations, one
chick came out. This bird, Jackie, became the tamest
and most audacious of pets; and, like many another
spoilt only child, was often a terrible nuisance. All
the little niggers about the place had a lively dread of
him ; and he requisitioned their food in the boldest
manner. As they sat on the ground at meals, with
plates of boiled pumpkin and rice in their laps, he
would come up, and, stretching his snake-like neck
over their heads, or insinuating it under their arms,
would coolly help himself to the contents of one plate
after another. Occasionally he would make for the
unhappy youngsters in so menacing a manner as to
frighten them into dropping their plates altogether ;
then, while his victims ran away crying, he would
squat on his heels among the débris, and regale his
enormous appetite at leisure.

But one day retribution came. Being free of the
kitchen—simply because no one could keep him out—
he was not long in observing that the pumpkin and rice
always came out of one particular pot; and, the idea
suddenly occurring to him that he could do no better
than go straight to the fountain-head for his favourite
dish, he walked up, full of joyful anticipation, to the fire
where this pot was bubbling. The cook—who, being
mother to several of the ill-used children, did not love

OSTRICHES. r2r

Jackie—offered no friendly interference to save him
from his fate ; and, plunging his bill into the pot, he
greedily scooped up, and, with the lightning-like
rapidity of ostriches, tossed down his throat, a large
mouthful of boiling rice. Poor fellow! the next
moment he was dancing round the kitchen, writhing
with agony, shaking his head nearly off, and twisting
his neck as if bent on tying it in a knot. Finally he
dashed wildly from the house; the cook, avenged at
last for all the dinners he had devoured, called after
him as he stumbled out at the door, “Serve you right,
Jackie !”—and away he fled across the veldé, till the
last that was seen of him was a little cloud of white
dust vanishing on the horizon. He returned a sadder
and a wiser bird; and it was long before he again
ventured inside the kitchen.

When about a year old, Jackie was sold to a farmer
who had long coveted him ; and who, no doubt, soon
repented of his purchase. He was now sufficiently
strong to give a good hard kick; and, being a more
daring freebooter than ever, and no respecter of per-
sons, he would march up and attack any one he saw
carrying food, or what he thought might be food;
endeavouring, by a well-aimed blow, to strike it out of
their hands; his evil design generally succeeding. At
length his master, tired of hearing constant complaints
of his conduct, and impatient of his perpetual intru-
sion indoors, tried putting him into a camp. There,
however, he obstinately refused to remain. As soon as
he was put in, he would squat down, laying his head

122 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

and neck on the ground ; then, making himself as flat
as possible, he would “squirm ” out, not without some
difficulty, under the lowest wire of the fence. It was
impossible to keep him in; and he was left to his own
devices, calmly regarded as a necessary evil, and
allowed to be as great a nuisance as he liked.

But poor Jackie soon ceased from troubling—his
end, as may well be imagined, being brought about by
no other cause than his own moral obliquity. One day
he wandered down to the river, where some Kaffir
women were washing clothes; their children, a group
of little animated nude bronzes, playing near them.
One little fellow, who was eating, was of course
instantly spied out by the covetous Jackie; who rushed
to kick him, but in so doing tumbled down in the rocky
bed of the river, and broke his own leg. The inevit-
able result followed, and Jaclkie, like all other broken-
legged ostriches, had to be killed.

The hen ostrich lays every alternate day ; and if, for
each egg laid, one is taken from the nest, she will con-
tinue laying until she has produced from twenty to
thirty. One, which belonged to T , laid sixty eggs
without intermission. If no eggs are taken away, the
hen leaves off laying as soon as she has from fifteen to
twenty ; the latter being the greatest number that can
be satisfactorily covered by the birds, The surplus eggs
are placed in incubators. It is best not to give much
artificial food to the birds while sitting; as, if overfed,
they become restless, and are liable to desert the nest.

Every morning and evening the nest, or rather the

OSTRICHES, 123

shallow indentation in the sandy ground which forms
this simplest of all “homes without hands,” is left un-
covered for a quarter of an hour, to allow the eggs to
cool. The sight of nests thus apparently deserted has
probably given rise to the erroneous idea that the
ostrich leaves her eggs to hatch in the sun. The
passage in the book of Job: “ Which leaveth her eggs
in the earth, and warmeth them in the dust,” is also
generally supposed to point to the same conclusion,
though in reality there can be no doubt that the latter
part of the sentence simply applies to the warming of
the eggs by the heat of the bird’s body as she sits over
them in her dusty nest. Stupid though she is, she has
more sense than to believe in the possibility of the sun
hatching her eggs; she is indeed quite aware of the fact
that, if allowed to blaze down on them with untempered
heat, even during the short time she is off the nest, it
would be injurious to them; and therefore, on a hot
morning, she does not leave them without first placing
on the top of each a good pinch of sand. This she does
in order that the germ—which, whatever side of the
egg is uppermost, always rises to the highest point—
may be shaded and protected. Having thus set her
nest in order, she walks off, to fortify herself with a
good meal for the duties of the day.

And now comes the white-necked crow’s chance:
for which, ever since at earliest dawn he drew out his
artful old head from under his wing, he has been
patiently waiting. An ostrich-egg is to him the

daintiest of all delicacies ; but, nature not having be-
9

124 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

stowed on him a bill strong enough to break its hard
shell, he is only able, by means of an ingenious device,
to regale on the interior. He carefully watches till
the parent’s back is turned, and she is a good distance
from the nest; then, flying up into the air, he drops a
stone from a great height with a most accurate aim,
and breaks an egg. He makes good use of his quarter
of an hour; and he, no less than the hen ostrich, has
had an ample meal by the time the latter returns to
the nest. Perhaps to-morrow she will not wander so
far away.

This crow, inveterate egg-stealer though he is, has a
most respectable and clerical appearance ; and with his
neat suit of black and his little white tie he looks
indeed “unco guid.” The Boers—possibly on account
of this pious exterior—have a legend to the effect that
these birds are the “ravens” which fed Elijah. They
say that after the birds had carried the meat, a little
of the fat remained on their necks; in commemoration
of which their descendants have this one conspicuous
white patch on their otherwise black plumage. Num-
bers of tortoise-shells, some of immense size, are found
about the veldé; which have been broken in the same
manner as the ostrich-eges, and their inmates devoured,
by these crows; who thus reverse the process by which,
some twenty-three centuries ago, the eagle, dropping
his tortoise on what seemed to him a convenient stone
for his purpose, smashed the bald head of poor Hschylus.

Among the denizens of the veldt the crows, unfortu-
nately, are not the only appreciators of ostrich-eggs:

OSTRICHES. 125

and our worst enemies are the jackals, In lonely, far-off
camps they plunder many promising nests; rolling
the eggs away with their paws, sometimes to great
distances. Occasionally, too, little chicks fall victims.
We waged deadly war against the depredators ; making
liberal use of strychnine pills to “take us the foxes,
the little foxes,” which, finding no vines to spoil in the
Karroo, were instead spoilers of ostrich nests. On a
large vine-farm in the Atlas Mountains, where, after
leaving the Cape, we spent some months, we were able
to note the accuracy of this passage of Scripture—in
which, I am told, the word rendered “foxes” ought in
reality to have been translated “jackals.” These
animals did indeed work terrible havoc among the
vines, eating incredible numbers of grapes; and T.
did much good by his introduction among them of the
South African plan of poisoning, to which many suc-
cumbed. The pills, enclosed in pieces of fat, are
dropped about the veldt; generally by a man on horse-
back, towing behind him a piece of very “high” meat,
which, fastened by a riem (narrow strip of hide) to the
horse’s tail, drags along the ground. By-and-by the
jackals, attracted by the odour of meat, come out; and,
following along the route taken by the poisoner, find
and eat the tempting pieces of fat. In the morning a
good number are sure to be found dead; the survivors,
apparently concluding that there is something very
wrong about the place, take themselves off for a time
to another neighbourhood ; and the comparative silence
which reigns at night is a pleasant change after the
chorus of their querulous, uncanny voices,

126 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

The partiality of jackals and crows for ostrich-eggs,
expensive though it is to us, reflects credit on their
taste; for the eggs are certainly delicious. Those
which, being useless for setting, found their way into
my kitchen, were always most acceptable; and I have
never had lighter cakes, nicer omelettes, custards, etc.,
than those made from them. And then they go so far!
Two large square biscuit tins can be filled to over-
flowing with a noble batch of sponge finger biscuits,
for which only one egg has been used. In spite of its
large size —equalling twenty-four fowls’ eggs—an
ostrich-egg has no coarse flavour. It takes an hour to
boil one hard; in which state it is a splendid article of
food for baby ostriches.

Ostrich-eggs were much prized by the ancient
Egyptians; and Gardiner Wilkinson tells us that they
“were required for some ornamental or religious use, as
with the modern Copts; and, with the plumes, formed
part of .the tribute imposed by the Egyptians on
conquered countries.”

Not long ago, T and I were much amused by the
discovery, among copious notes in an old Bible dated
1770, of the following passage from a quaint old writer :
“The Ostrich, which the Arabians call Nuama, is a
wild Bird of the Shape of a Goose, but much bigger
than that; it is very high upon its Legs, and has a
Neck of more than four or five Spans long: The Body
is very gross, and in its Wings and Tail it has large
Feathers black and white (like those of the Stork) and
some grey; it cannot fly, but it runs very fast; in

OSTRICHES. 127

which it is much assisted by the Motion of its Wings
and Tail: And when it runs, it wounds itself with the
Spurs which it has on its Legs. It is bred in the dry
Desarts, where there is no Water, and lays tap or twelve
Eggs together in the Sand, some as large as a great
Bowl, and some less. They say this Bird hath so little
Memory that as soon as she hath made an End of
laying her Eggs, she forgets the Place where she left
them ; so that when the Hen comes to a Place where
there are Eggs, let them be her own or not, she sets
abrood upon them, and hatches them; and as soon as
the Chickens are hatched, they immediately run about
the Country to look for Meat; and they are so nimble,
when they are little, before their Feathers grow, that
tis impossible to overtake them.”

One is inclined to think that the old author, Marmol,
from whose “ History of Africa” the above passage is
quoted, cannot have written from any very accurate
acquaintance with the Dark Continent ; at any rate, it
is not likely that he ever saw an ostrich, or he would
have known that it possesses no spurs.

It is a strange fact that the most savage ostrich, if
he comes up and finds you between himself and his
nest, does not, as would naturally be supposed, rush to
defend his eggs, and, if possible, kick you to death, but
is instantly changed into the most abjectly submissive
of creatures, “’Umble” as Uriah Heep, he squats at
your feet; making a peculiar rattling noise with his
wings, biting the ground, snapping his bill, closing his
eyes, and looking the very embodiment of imbecility

128 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

as he meekly implores you to spare his eggs. This
suppliant posture is, however, not to be trusted ; and, if
tackey-less, you had better remain at the nest until
assistance—or night—comes, for if once the positions of
yourself and bird are reversed, “Richard’s himself
again.” He squats, no longer in servile entreaty, but in
defiance ; and his challenge is promptly followed by a
charge. The hen ostrich, being destitute of a voice, has
but one way of calling her chicks, which is by that
same rattling and rustling of the wings.

In strong contrast to the usual anxiety of the
paternal ostrich for his nest was one case of which we
heard. In a breeding-camp, containing a cock and two
hens, troublesome complications had arisen. One hen
persisted in sitting, while the other was as resolutely
bent on laying; and, the struggles of the two rivals for
the possession of the nest being extremely perilous to
the eggs, the Boer to whom the trio belonged removed
the laying hen from the enclosure. Now came the
cock’s turn to be excited. The departed hen was
evidently his favourite wife; and, disconsolate at her
loss, he ran restlessly about the camp for some time,
brooming repeatedly; then, as if struck by some
sudden impulse—probably of spite against his master
—he ran to the nest, on which he deliberately jumped
till he had broken every egg.

One of our birds was a morose old bachelor.
Whether he had remained single from choice, or
whether his surly temper had made him so unpopular
that no hen would cast in her lot with him, we knew

OSTRICHES. 129

not; but there he was, living in solitary grandeur on
the lower slope of our big mountain. Every time
we took a certain favourite walk, a portion of which
he had marked out as his beat, he would dispute the
right of way with us; resenting the invasion of his
solitude with more fuss than was ever made by the
father of the largest family of chicks. Sometimes he
would lie in ambush, and rush out at us from unex-
pected places, with all the artfulness of a rogue elephant.
Fortunately, his domain being on the mountain-side,
there was plenty of high bush, behind which it was
not difficult to dodge him.

CHAPTER VII.
OSTRICHES (continued),

Vagaries of an incubator—Hatching the chicks—A bad egg—Human
foster-mothers—Chicks difficult to rear—“ Yellow-liver ”’—Cruel
boys—Chicks herded by hen ostrich—Visit to Boer’s house—A
carriage full of ostriches—‘‘ The melancholy Jaques ”—Ostriches at
sea— A stampede — Runaway birds — Branding — Stupidity of
ostriches—Accidents— Waltzing and fighting—Ostrich soup—An
expensive quince—A feathered Tantalus—Strange things swallowed
by ostriches—A court-martial—The ostrich, or the diamond ?—A
visit to the Zoo,

AN incubator, considerably increasing as it does the
number of chicks that can be hatched, is of course of
the greatest value on a farm. We had one, capable of
holding sixty eggs; and a “ finisher,” in which thirty
more could be placed. Two paraffin lamps, kept con-
stantly burning, heated the large tank of the incubator ;
and a thermometer, inserted in the water, had to be
carefully watched in order that the temperature of the
latter might neither exceed nor fall below 103°. Be-
neath the tank—so that the eggs, as in nature, might
be heated from above—were four drawers, each with
compartments for fifteen eggs. I was appointed inana-
ger of the incubator; and morning and evening—

OSTRICHES. 131

following the example of the hen ostrich—I gave the
eggs their quarter of an hour’s cooling by allowing the
drawers to stand open; also, as she does, I carefully
turned each egg.

The regulation of the temperature was a matter of
some anxiety,“and enabled me—especially on first
undertaking the work—to form a very good idea of
the responsibilities of a vestal tending the sacred fire.
Some mischievous imp seemed to be perpetually at
work causing that thermometer to indulge in the
wildest vagaries. Perhaps just one degree of the re-
quired temperature would be wanting; and though,
tor the best part of the morning, I had been coming
anxiously every ten minutes or so to look at the ther-
mometer, it refused, with all the perversity of “a
watched pot,” to rise above 102°.. Then at last, a little
off my guard, and absorbed in one of the numerous
other home duties, I might possibly forget the incu-
bator’s existence for a little while ; and, on suddenly
remembering and running to it, find that the treacher-
ous mercury had jumped up two or three degrees.
Then the drawers would have to be thrown open, and
the contents of several jugs of cold water wildly dashed
in through the opening at the top of the incubator—
and when at last, by still trembling hands, the ther-
mometer was readjusted in the said opening, it would
probably register as many degrees below as it had just
been above 103°. T was away for three weeks
during the time the incubator was in full work; and
so great was the anxiety which haunted me, lest on

132 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

his return I should present him with some sixty cooked
birds, that I set an alarum every night for two o'clock,
to assure myself that the temperature was playing me
no tricks.

When within about eight or ten days of hatching,
the chick can be felt moving about in the egg; and
later on, when nearly ready to come out, he is heard
squeaking, and tapping with his bill against the shell.
Then at last, one day, when you come to turn the eggs
in the finisher, where they are placed for the last fort-
night, you find one with a hole in it—generally a
three-cornered piece is knocked clean out—and in the
opening a pinkish, soft-looking bill is making impatient
movements, and a bright eye is peeping at you as
knowingly as though already well acquainted with all
the ways of a world on which its owner has yet to
enter. An ostrich, by the way, seems far more intelli-
gent as a baby than he ever is in after life.

A strong chick is generally able to free himself, by
his own unaided efforts, from the shell; but if after a
certain number of hours he is not out, it becomes
necessary to assist him. This, however, requires ex-
treme gentleness and caution, as there is great risk of
inflicting injury ; and, although I have helped many
young ostriches into the world—losing but one patient
in all my practice—I always preferred leaving that
delicate work to nature. And yet there is something
so tempting about these little half-opened parcels ; one
always longs to undo them and have a full view of the
contents. The moment the little fellow is out of the

OSTRICHES. 133

egg, he seems to swell out, and looks so large that you
wonder how he can possibly have been packed away
in such a small space; and I am quite sure that the
task of replacing him in the shell would as far surpass
the powers of “all the king’s horses and all the king’s
men,” as did the reintegration of Humpty Dumpty.

Occasionally—and even at this time and distance it
is hardly to be recalled without a shudder—the incu-
bator would contain a bad egg. Imagine all the horrors
of a bad hen’s egg, multiplied by twenty-four! The
whole drawer would be so pervaded by the odour that
it was difficult for some time to discover the actual
offender ; and when at last it revealed itself by an un-
canny moisture exuding through the shell, an amount
of courage and caution was required for its removal
and safe depositing outside, which suggested very flat-
tering comparisons of one’s own conduct with that of a
soldier winning the V.C. by carrying away a live shell.

An incautious friend of T ’s was too closely in-
vestigating a doubtful ostrich-egg, when it exploded
with a loud report. He was an old gentleman, with a
beautiful white beard ; and his condition, as described
by T , who—luckily from a safe distance—wit-
nessed the accident, is best left to the imagination.
Suffice it to say that an immediate and prolonged bath
was imperative, and that a whole suit of clothes had
to be destroyed.

In the days when chicks were so valuable, people
who did not possess incubators sometimes had recourse
to a strange way of hatching those eggs which, during

134 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

the sitting, were either left orphaned by accident, or,
as in the case of Jackie, deserted in consequence of
floods. Some poor old Hottentot woman would be
carefully tucked up, in company with the eggs, under
numerous blankets,—where she would remain bed-
ridden until she had hatched out the last chick. Some-
times, even, the stout, lethargic Dutch vroww herself, to
whose indolent nature the task was doubtless congenial
enough, would perform the part of foster-mother.

When, either by natural or artificial means, the
little ostriches are safely brought into the world, the
farmer’s next anxiety is to keep them there. They do
well enough on the coast; but in the Karroo they are
most difficult to rear, and our experience with them
has been sad and disheartening. Numbers of them die,
when about a month or five weeks old, from an epi-
demic which comes and goes in the strangest manner.
During a whole season, for instance, one farmer will
lose nearly every chick ; while brood after brood will
be successfully reared by another at no very great
distance. Next year, perhaps, it is the turn of the
latter to be the sufferer ; and vice versa. Our unlucky
year had a most promising beginning, unusually good
rains having filled the country with nests; yet at the
end of the season all we had to show of the rising
generation of ostriches was a poor little troop of fifteen
lanky, ragged-looking creatures, which through some
rare toughness of constitution had survived the perils
of infancy—over two hundred having succumbed.

The disappointment of losing the chicks is much in-

OSTRICHES, 135

tensified by the fact that they always begin so well.
For the first three weeks nothing can be more en-
couraging than the appearance of the stout, sturdy
toddlers ; they eat voraciously and are full of life and
spirits, waltzing, in absurd imitation of their elders, to
show their joy on being first let out in the morning—
the effort usually ending in a comical sprawl on the
back. ’

Again and again comes the delusive hope that the
spell is broken at last; that the luck has turned, and
that this little brood is really going to live. But alas!
—one morning, during that fatal fourth week, you
notice that one little head, instead of being held up
saucily and independently, is poking forward and
downward in a dejected manner with which you are
only too well acquainted. You know at once that the
owner of that head is doomed, and that it will not be
long before most, if not all, of his brethren show the
same dreaded symptom. The disease is quite incurable
—indeed, I have never known of an ostrich, old or
young, recovering from any illness whatever; and
though we tried all possible kinds of medicine, diet,
and treatment, resolutely refusing to despair of any
case while a spark of life remained, those chicks per-
sisted in dying, sometimes at the rate of three or four
a day. I was hospital nurse, and so deeply did I take
to heart the loss of patient after patient that it became
a joke with T ; and a plentiful sprinkling of grey
happening just at this time to make its appearance on
my head, he still attributes each silver thread to a little

136 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

dead ostrich. A post-mortem examination of chicks
which have died of this disease shows the liver to be
of the bright colour of orange-peel.

Internal parasites also destroy a good many chicks ;
and altogether the little lives are precarious, and every
troop of young birds successfully reared in the Karroo
is a triumph.

For the first two or three months the chicks are
herded near the house by boys, whose duty it is to
keep them well supplied with prickly pear leaves and
other green food, cut up small. This work ought to
take up the greater part of the young herd’s time;
but—small boys being no more satisfactory as servants
in the Karroo than they are anywhere else—we found
it necessary to keep a very strict watch; and often
during the day, however busy I might be, I would
“make time” to run down to the shady spot which
was the chicks’ place of encampment—generally to
find the infants hungry, and their useless nurse either
asleep or plunged in some absorbing business of his
own with a knife and a piece of wood. Sometimes,
too, the boys, getting impatient with the chicks, were
rough and cruel; one budding criminal especially was
several times caught making footballs of his innocent
charges, kicking them up several feet into the air,
And on a farm where T was once staying, a
juvenile black fiend was found to have deliberately
broken the legs of some twenty chicks under his care ;
and, when asked the reason of his conduct, said, “ They
run about, give me too much trouble.”

OSTRICHES. 137

The chicks are often attacked by old birds—always
spiteful to little ones which are not their own—and
we have had several kicked to death by their vindictive
elders. Ona neighbouring farm, however, dwelt the
usual exception to the rule, in the shape of an old hen,
which—although herself not a mother—showed such a
strong affection for chicks, and took such devoted care
of them, that at last, much to her delight, she was
appointed to the post of herd, vice the small boy, dis-
missed as incorrigible. She filled the place of the
latter far better than he had ever done; leading the
little creatures, with the greatest care, wherever the
tenderest veldt was to be found; never losing her
temper with them, or failing to bring the full number
home to bed at sundown; and altogether acquitting
herself in a wonderfully sedate and_ business-like
manner for so scatter-brained a creature as an ostrich.

Her history ought of course to have ended here; but
truth compels me to state that at last, after she had
successfully brought up many families of chicks, and
had come to be respected and trusted as the steadiest
and most useful of farm-servants, one day the idiotic
ostrich-nature asserted itself; she took a sudden and
senseless fright—probably at nothing—lost her wits,
bolted right away, leaving the chicks to get dispersed
about the veldt, where only afew were found; and was
herself never heard of again.

I think our friends at home would have been rather
amused if they could have seen us one day, driving
home from Mount Stewart with twelve ostriches in our

138 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

extremely small American spider. On our way to 4
farm where T had business we happened to pass a
Dutchman’s house, round the door of which we noticed
a lively little brood of chicks running about. T
of course no sooner saw them than he coveted them (he
frankly confesses himself quite unable to keep the
tenth commandment as far as ostriches are concerned) ;
and we pulled up, accepted the hospitable invitation of
the Boer, who doubtless read in our eyes the chance of
“doing a deal,” and went into the house, where, first of
all, a solemn, silent, and apparently endless course of
hand-shaking had to be gone through. The Cape
Dutch living in very patriarchal fashion, there were

not only a wife and many sons and daughters, but a
well-preserved parental couple, a mother-in-law, several
sons and daughters-in-law, and—needless to say—a
crowd of children of all sizes, including two babies.
All but the two last came forward one after another
and gravely took our hands; then we all sat round the
room, solemnly looking at each other, and T and I
felt as if we were at a funeral. We would have been
thankful to have fled; but—our own birds not having °
begun laying—we did so want those chicks, and we
felt that it was worth while to endure something for
their sakes.

Presently coffee was handed round in huge cups,
evidently more than half filled with sugar. The more
highly the good vroww wishes to honour you, the more
horribly and sickeningly she over-sweetens your cup
of tea or coffee; and the syrup we had to drink on this

OSTRICHES. 139

occasion left no doubt as to the kindly feeling of our
hosts towards us. The entrance of the tray was the
signal for conversation to commence ; and, once set free,
it flowed abundantly. As we sat drinking our coffee
and talking of everything but the business on which
we were bent, our thoughts flashed back to Oriental
bazaars, where these identical preliminaries are neces-
sary to every bargain. The relationship of everybody
present to everybody else was accurately explained to
us, with much pointing, or clapping on the back, as
the case might be; and we in our turn were minutely
questioned as to our names, ages, number of brothers
and sisters and other relatives, etc.; the women again
bringing back Eastern recollections by their resem-
blance to the inquisitive, chattering inmates of harems.
Then T ventured to lead the conversation round
to the coveted chicks; but it was a little too soon, the
subject was abruptly dropped, and we again waded
through all manner of irrelevant talk until, a becoming
time having elapsed, and the requirements of etiquette
being satisfied, the business was allowed to commence.

After such an inauguration, it may well be imagined
that the bargain was not concluded in a hurry; and
we had paid a tediously long visit before we were at
last the happy possessors of the chicks for which we
had suffered so much; and, putting them loose into the
spider at our feet, where—being about as large as
ducks—they made rather a tight fit, drove off with
them.

A little further on, at another Dutchman’s house,
10

140 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

and with more bargaining, we bought a young paaww
(pronounced “ pow”). This game bird (the great bus-
tard) grows to an immense size, some being occasionally
shot which measure nine feet across the outspread
wings; but fortunately—considering the number of
passengers already on board—the present specimen,
being but a chick, was no larger than a fine fowl.

When we arrived at last at our original destination,
the young ladies of the house presented us with a
pretty little baby hare, which had just been caught;
and with this wee creature nestling in my lap, and the
paaww and the ostriches all scrambling about among
our legs and apparently not on the best of terms, we
drove the twenty miles home. The poor paauw was
very unhappy, and kept bewailing his fate in a Jong,
weird cry, like the moaning of the wind; whence he
immediately acquired his name of “the melancholy
Jaques.” We had an amusing though rather anxious
journey ; for the spider—consisting simply of a kind
of magnified Japanese tea-tray, supporting the lightest
of seats, and mounted on fcur wheels, almost bicycle-
like in their slenderness—was hardly the safest thing
in which to convey restless live stock which was not
fastened or secured in any way. ‘lhe road, too, was
terrible; indeed, in one place it resembled a steep,
rocky staircase, and after every bad jolt I looked
anxisusly back to see if any of our creatures were
lying on the ground. Thanks to T: ’s careful driv-
ing, however, we brought the whole collection safely
home, none the worse for their long journey,

OSTRICHES, 14t

Jaques, I may as well mention here, soon grew very
tame; but, being—we never knew why—persistently
snubbed by all the other pets, was driven to the com-
panionship of the fowls, with which he struck up a
close friendship ; spending most of his time among
them, and always coming with them to be fed. He
would also forage about in the kitchen for scraps ;
and, if disappointed in his search, would utter his des-
ponding cry, and seem quite heart-broken. He was a
handsome bird; with delicately-pencilled plumage of
different shades of grey and brown, a little neat crest
on his head, and absurdly small feet, which looked as
if they could not possibly support so large a body.
Unfortunately, poor Jaques did not live to attain his
full size, but poisoned himself with pumpkin seeds ;
which had been carelessly dropped on the kitchen
floor, in spite of repeated orders that these seeds—
being a deadly poison to turkeys—should always be
instantly burnt as soon as a pumpkin was cut open.
We lost several of our turkeys through the neglect of
this rule by the stupid Hottentot girls.

Although little ostriches are such good travellers, it
is anything but easy to transport full-grown ones
about the world. They are wretched sailors, as T
has found to his cost; for when, some time ago, he
took several pairs of birds to Sydney, about half of
them died at sea. The day before they were shipped
from Port Elizabeth they were placed in a store where
there was a large quantity of tobacco, on which some
of them regaled, with the consequence that before they

142 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

had been at sea a week three were dead from nicotine
poisoning. T does not mind a story told against
himself, so I may mention that a plan adopted by him
with a view to ensuring the comfort and cleanliness of
the birds during the voyage did not—as regards the
former advantage—turn out quite a success. He car-
peted the pens with cocoa-nut matting ; and when the
vessel began to roll, and the birds sat down, their legs
were terribly chafed and rubbed by the roughness of
the matting. And although T , to procure rag
wherewith to bind up their sores, recklessly sacrificed
shirts, pocket-handkerchiefs, and whatever other linen
came to hand, several succumbed. The survivors did
so well in Australia that arrangements were made to
carry on ostrich-farming in that country on a large
scale; and T was about to export two hundred
birds when the Cape Government, hearing of the pro-
ject, imposed an export duty of £100 on every ostrich,
and £5 on each egg.

Ostriches are very bad railway travellers ; and avail
themselves of every possible opportunity of coming to
grief in the cattle-trucks ; in which they often seem to
be too closely packed. And as for their behaviour
when travelling on foot, T—— has had some experience
of the infinity of trouble they can give to those in
charge of them. Having once bought a troop of ninety
birds on the West Coast, he accompanied them himself
on the long journey to Port Elizabeth. One niyht
there was a stampede ; and when daylight broke over
the vast plain not one ostrich was in sight. Of course

OSTRICHES. 143

“there was mounting in hot haste ;” and poor T——
had to ride about the country after the runaways, which
were so dispersed that they could only be collected by
twos-and threes. He had two days of very hard work
before he succeeded in getting them all together again.

When T first started ostrich-farming, a good
many years ago, he and his partners—little knowing
the “kittle cattle” with which they had to deal—
thought they would do without fencing. They soon
found all their birds gone; and had to scour the
country for hundreds of miles in pursuit of their
erratic stock, riding all their horses to death.

Profiting by this sad experience, T has carefully
fenced Swaylands in all directions except where the
steepness of the mountain forms a natural barrier.
Yet in spite of all the trouble and money spent—and
enclosing is-one of the heaviest of all expenses in-
curred in starting a new farm—our birds were con-
tinually getting away. We have unfortunately the
great disadvantage of a high-road running straight
through the farm; and often a lazy Boer, thinking it
too much trouble to kick away the stone with which
he had propped the gate open while his waggons
passed through—though T had carefully adjusted
that gate to fall to aud close itself—would cause the
loss of several of our birds; which of course might or
might not be heard of again. On one occasion over
twenty birds seem to have gone out in a body, owing
to the gate being left open; and only a few were
eventually recovered.

144 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

Some birds—artful old rovers who have been away
before and have tasted the joys of freedom—will spend
days running up and down along the side of the fence ;
keeping the gate well in sight, and watching for the
chance of its being left open.

The family of one of our herds, living close to a
gate, were supposed to act as lodge-keepers ; but—like
most of the coloured race—they could never be induced
to attend steadily and systematically to their duty,
and we often found the gate wide open, inviting an
exodus of birds. A fine of five shillings was imposed
for each offence ; but the hardened sinners knew that
T ’s kind heart made him reluctant to enforce the
penalty.

Ostriches, when very firmly bent on escaping, and
finding no gate open, will sometimes charge the fence ;
and, though occasionally one will succeed in tumbling
safely over and getting away, the clumsy performance
most frequently results in broken legs.

Runaway birds are far from being the least among
the many trials of an ostrich-farmer’s life; and the
annual losses caused by them even exceed in number
those resulting from accident. Then they involve such
endless waste of time and trouble. T.
tinually riding about, searching and making inquiries,
often in vain, for lost ostriches. When he was fortu-
nate enough to find one, or hear of its whereabouts; or
perhaps see, from the advertised description of its brand,
that it was an inmate of some distant pound, two of
the herds—never spared without difficulty from other

was con-

OSTRICHES. 145

work—would be sent, often a long journey of three or
more days, to bring it back.

A returning runaway, always a joyful sight to us,
was also rather a laughable one. As he was marched
along between the two men, each with a tight grip on
his shoulder, he looked just like a pickpocket in the
hands of the police, going to prison; and a large piece
of sacking, roughly sewn round his body to give his
captors a firmer hold, made him appear as though
already in convict dress. Then, to prevent his giving
trouble on the road, his head would be ina bag. As
often as not this bax would be one of my pillow-cases,
surreptitiously abstracted by T
drawer before sending off the men.

from the linen-

The very necessary operation of branding is per-
formed on the ostrich’s large, bare thigh, which seems
just made for the purpose. Sometimes a considerable
number of our young or newly-purchased birds would
be branded at once. The irons with our brand, the
Turkish crescent, were heated in a little portable forge
placed in one corner of the plucking-kraal ; and each
poor bird in turn received the mark of our ownership
with an agonized start on one side; the smell, and the
hissing sound of the frizzling flesh always reminding
me unpleasantly of the horrible performances of the
Aissaowa, which (because every one else went) I was
once foolish enough to go and see in Algiers. Old
birds, which have frequently changed hands, some-
times display a fine collection of initials and different
designs, covering both thighs.

146 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

Unfortunately, branding is not always the safe-
guard against theft which it is intended to be; for
there are quite as many dishonest people in the Cape
Colony as elsewhere (if not rather more), and it is no
uncommon trick to obliterate the brand of a bird which
has come astray by applying over it a much larger one
—a “frying-pan” brand, as one hears it occasionally
called by victims.

As regards the stupidity of sabeiches, although indeed
they are falsely accused on one point; that of hiding
their small heads in the sand and imagining therefore
that their large bodies are quite invisible to the foe,
they do many other things quite as foolish, and—to
revert again to the Book of Job—their character could
not possibly have been more perfectly summed up than
it is in the words: “ Because God hath deprived her of
wisdom, neither hath He imparted to her understand-
ing.” And, indeed, no one looking at the ostrich’s
ridiculous little head, so flat immediately above the
eyes as to leave no room for any brain, can wonder
that he is an imbecile; possessing even less intelligence
than a common fowl, and not recognizing the man who
has fed him every day for years, if the latter comes to
the camp in a coat or hat to which he is unaccustomed.
A friend of T ’s was attacked and knocked down
by one of his own ostriches, an old bird which had been
constantly fed by him, but which, on seeing him for
the first time in a black hat, took him for a stranger.
Fortunately T was with him, and, having brought
a tackey—in spite of assurances that none would be
needed—came promptly to the rescue.

OSTRICHES. 147

Ostriches are long-lived creatures ; indeed, it is im-
possible to say what venerable age they may be capable
of attaining, for, however old they become, they never
show any signs of decrepitude, nor do their feathers
deteriorate ; while, as for an ostrich dying of old age, I
do not believe any one has ever heard of such a thing.
But it is accident which, sooner or later, ends the career
of nearly every ostrich ; and in about ninety-nine cases
out of a hundred the disaster is, in one way or another,
the result of the bird’s own stupidity. There surely
does not exist a creature—past earliest infancy—more
utterly incapable of taking care of itself than an
ostrich ; yet he is full of conceit, and resents the idea
of being looked after by his human friends ; and when,
in spite of all their precautions for his safety, he has
succeeded in coming to grief, he quietly opposes every
attempt to cure his injuries, and at once makes up his
mind to die. If his hurt is not sufficiently severe to
kill him, he will attain his object by moping and re-
fusing to eat—anyhow, he dies—often apparently for
no other reason than because his master, against whom
he has always had a grudge, wishes him to live. He
seems to die out of spite; just as a Hindoo servant will
starve himself, waste rapidly away, and finally come
and expire at the gate of the employer with whom he
is offended.

The worst and most frequent accidents by which
ostriches contrive to make away with themselves are
broken legs; these—even were the patients tractable
—it would be impossible to cure, owing to the strange

148 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

fragility of that limb which, as we have seen, is capable
of inflicting so deadly a kick,—and any poor bird
which breaks a leg has to be instantly killed. The
bone seems almost as brittle as porcelain; and a com-
paratively slight blow is enough to splinter it into just
such jagged and pointed fragments as result from
breaking the spout of a china teapot.

One very fruitful source of broken legs is the
dervish-like habit ostriches have of waltzing when in
particularly good spirits, and especially when first
turned out of the kraal in the morning. They go
sailing along so prettily in the bright sunshine; their
beautiful wings, spread and erect, giving them at a
little distance the appearance of white balloons; but
they have a sad tendency to become giddy and tumble
down, and, knowing the frailty of their legs, we do not
look with unmixed pleasure on the graceful perform-
ance. Some birds, indeed, have the sense to save
themselves by “reversing,” which they do as cleverly
as practised human dancers; but the accomplishment
seems rare among them, and we calculate that waltzing
costs us eight or ten per cent. per annum.

Then they often fight savagely; and the terrific
“thud” of the blows they deal upon each other’s bodies
makes one tremble lest the next kick should fall on
one of the brittle legs; as indeed frequently happens.
One day (a long drought having brought our birds
round the house), two splendid young cocks began
fighting close to the windows. In an instant one of
them was down; with his leg snapped across, and all

OSTRICHES, 149

but knocked off, by a frightful blow. T being
from home, I had to go and inspect the poor bird’s
injuries—a sickening sight—and do him the only kind-
ness possible, that of ordering his immediate execution.
A couple of hours later, some of the flesh from one
massive thigh was simmering in my stock-pot, sending
forth a most delicious odour; while both legs, joints
from which indeed to “cut and come again,” dwarfed
the proportions of the Angora meat as they hung beside
it, high out of reach of dog or jackal, in our open-air
larder. For when by some untoward accident, such as
that just described, our birds came suddenly by their
death, we had the very small and melancholy consola-
tion of eating them. That is to say, following the
example of French frog-eaters, we ate the legs only ;
there being no meat whatever on any other part of
the creature’s body. Instead of having a nice plump
breast, like that of a fowl, turkey, or any other of the
Carinatz or keel-breasted birds, the ostrich has a flat
breast-bone and large ribs shaped wonderfully like
those of a human being, His body is always bony ;
and, however well you may feed him, the nourishment
all seems to go to his legs. An unpleasant stringiness
prevents ostrich-steaks from being quite nice, but the
soup is perfection. I never tasted any quite equal to
it; although some, made from the enormous tortoises
found occasionally on the veldt, came very near it in
goodness. The best beef-stock is not to be compared
with ostrich-soup ; and I imagine the latter would be
a most nourishing food for invalids. An ostrich which

150 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

has died in good condition has a large quantity of
beautiful, soft, bright yellow fat. This, being most
useful, is always carefully put away in jars; and there
is no fat equal to it for guns, saddles, harness, boots, ete.

Besides waltzing and fighting, there are endless other
ways in which ostriches—always ingenious in devising
plans for their own destruction—manage to get their
legs broken, and their throats consequently cut; but
the favourite form of felo-de-se is collision with the
wire fences, These seem to have some magnetic attrac-
tion for the vogels, as the Dutch call them—the word,
appropriately enough, too, being pronounced “ fools.”

“ Another bird killed in the wires!” How familiar
any one living on an ostrich farm becomes with these
words of woe! Anything, or nothing—the latter in-
deed more frequently—suffices either to frighten or
embolden an ostrich into flinging himself headlong into
the nearest fence. The appearance of a strange dog,
for instance—and in spite of strict orders the Kaffirs
always will bring dogs about the place—is quite certain,
whatever may be the view taken of it by the ostrich,
to lead but to one result. Say the dog is coming along
on the opposite side of the fence. An imbecile bold-
ness and pugnacity straightway inspire the ostrich ; he
has no eyes for anything but the dog, and, leaving the
fence entirely out of his calculations, he makes a mad,
blind charge, which lands him well in the wires; and
if he is extricated from the latter with unbroken legs,
his owner may be congratulated on a very unusual
stroke of luck. If, on the other hand, the dog and bird

OSTRICH-CHICK.
(Photographed from case in Stanley and African Exhibition.)

OSTRICHES MEDITATING ESCAPE THROUGH DEFECTIVE FENCE,

OSTRICHES. 151

are on the same side of the fence—then, even Burns’s
mouse had no greater “ panic” in his “ breastie ” than
that which impels the senseless biped to dash straight
into the wires on his left; though miles of unfenced
veldt, along which he might run with safety and soon
distance the dog, stretch away to his right. The dog,
of course, was not in either case troubling his head
about the ostrich; and only wonders what all the
commotion is about.

One of T ’s birds performed the “happy de-
spatch” in quite a novel manner. Seeing a tempting
quince growing on the further side of a hedge, he
squeezed his head and neck through a narrow fork in
the branches to reach it. Having secured and eaten
his prize, he tried to draw his head back. But what
was difficult enough before was now impossible; his
neck, bulging with the quince, kept him a prisoner,
there was no one at hand to help, and the more he
tugged and jumped in the frenzied manner of ostriches
when held by the head, the more firmly he stuck.
And he was found at last, with his neck broken, and
his head, to all intents and purposes, pulled off.

Another ostrich, running up against some projecting
ends of wire, tore his throat open ; inflicting so deep a
gash as to divide the cesophagus, T—— (surgeon as
well as everything else a colonist requires to be) went
in quest of needle and thread to sew up the wound;
and, on returning, found that his patient, having dis-
covered a sack of mealies, was busily helping himself
to the contents; though with the unsatisfactory result

152 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

that the food, as soon as swallowed, tumbled out again
through the slit in his throat. Nothing daunted,
however, and apparently insensible to pain, the feathered
Tantalus continued to feed ; wondering no doubt why,
having eaten so much, he remained hungry. Thanks
to T ’s care, this bird, a rare exception to the general
rule of wounded ostriches, actually recovered.

Talking of the ostrich’s food-passage, it is rather a
curious sight to watch the progress of a large bone, or
of a good beakfnul of mealies, as it travels down the
long throat of the bird. During its journey, the large,
slowly-moving lump is seen to make the circuit of the
whole neck, and while passing round the back of the
latter it looks comical indeed. Queer things sometimes
find their way down this tortuous passage; the exces-
sive queerness of some of them giving rise to the fre-
quent boast of those persons fortunately able to eat
anything, fearless of consequences, that they “have the
digestion of an ostrich.” But those miscellaneous
collections of old bones, glass and china, stones, jewel-
lery, hardware, and odds and ends of all sorts, with
which the creature stores his interior, till one is
reminded of Mark Twain’s “solid dog,” fed on paving-
stones—far from showing that an ostrich has a good
digestion, are necessary to prevent his having a very
bad one. They are, of course, simply his teeth, the
millstones which grind his food ; only they are situated
in his stomach instead of in his mouth, and, on an
immensely-magnified scale, they only perform the work
of those grains of sand with which the little cage-bird

OSTRICHES. 153

keeps himself healthy. Certainly ostriches occasionally
show a sad want of discrimination, and make choice of
articles which are quite unsuitable for their purpose.
The manager's lighted pipe, for instance, was snatched
and greedily swallowed by one of our birds before any
one could stop him; and for a while the thief was very
anxiously watched to see if evil consequences would
ensue. Luckily, however, the strange fare did not
seem to disagree with him. Another bird picked a
gimlet out of a post, in which, for one moment, it had
been carelessly left sticking—tossed it down his throat,
and was none the worse for it.

Ostriches, like magpies, are attracted by everything
bright and glittering ; hence the frequent and just com-
plaints brought against them for theft. But their own
interior is the only hiding-place where they bestow the
precious stones and other articles of jewellery which,
whenever they have a chance, they will always steal.

One day, while yet new to the colony, and to the
ways of ostriches, I was standing with T by the
side of one of the camps, looking over the fence at the
birds, and much amused by the curious, dancing manner
in which the creatures moved, as if hung on wires;
when suddenly one of them, with a motion as quick as
lightning, made a dash at my earring, a little round
knob of gold, exactly the size and colour of a mealie
(Indian corn seed), for which perhaps he took it; and
I only drew back just in time to save it—and probably
a piece of the ear with it—from going down his throat.

A newly-arrived gentleman was less fortunate. He,

154 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

too, was looking over a fence into a camp, when the
sharp eye of an ostrich spied a beautiful diamond in
his pin, and in an instant the jewel was picked out and
swallowed. A kind of court-martial was held on the
ostrich; the relative values of himself and of the
diamond being accurately calculated, that his judges
might decide whether he should live or die. Fortun-
ately for him it was just the time when ostriches were
expensive ; and his value was estimated at £100, while
the diamond was only worth £90. Those £10 saved
his life ; and the diamond was allowed to remain and
perform the part of an extra-good millstone in his
interior. Had he waited till the present time to furnish
his internal economy thus expensively he would have
been very promptly sacrificed. But people should not
wear diamonds on ostrich farms.

When, soon after our return from the Cape, we were
staying for a time in London, one of our first expedi-
tions was to the Zoo. There, with great delight and
amusement, we walked about, looking up one after
another of our old South African friends. But it was
a cold, gloomy day ; and in the houses as well as out of
doors the exiles from that sunny land seemed much
depressed by their changed conditions of climate, The
meerkats, curled up in a half-torpid state, were no
longer the merry little rogues they had once been, when
in happier days they stood on their hind legs outside
their burrows, toasting their little backs in their native
sunshine. The baboon was morose; the snakes sleepy ;
the African buffalo no longer terrible as in the wilds

OSTRICHES. 155

of his old home, but a poor dejected creature, utterly
crushed and broken-hearted by long residence under
cold, grey skies, Altogether, everything hailing from
Austral Africa looked very homesick that dull day,
with the sole exception of the secretary bird, which,
after a long and persevering search—for old Jacob’s
sake—we at last succeeded in finding. He was a
delightful bird; as tame as our own old friend, and
evidently a great favourite with his keeper. We felt
wickedly covetous, as the man, pleased at the interest
we showed, put the intelligent bird through a number
of comical performances, which included the “killing”
of a stuffed ratskin, kept for the purpose of displaying
how the secretary in his wild state beats to death the
nice, lizards, and other creatures on which he feeds.
But where were the ostriches? Just as actors, when
they have a holiday, usually spend it in going to the
theatre, so, of all the creatures in the Zoo, those we
were most anxious to see were the great birds of whose
company during the last few years we might reason-
ably be supposed to have had enough. But no ostriches
. were to be seen; and the keeper of whom we inquired
told us that all were dead. On asking the cause of
death, we heard that it was “because the people fed
them on pennies.” We went to the office of the secretary
of the gardens, and found that this statement was
really true, and that the post-mortem examination of
each poor bird had brought to light a large number of
copper coins which had been swallowed. We were

glad to hear that any ostriches kept in the gardens in
11

156 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

future were to be separated by glass from a public
idiotic enough to waste its money in poisoning them.

After this, we were quite able to believe a story told
us of how a girl was one day seen at the Zoo, feeding
these same unfortunate birds with some ten or twelve
pairs of old kid gloves, evidently saved up for the
purpose, and presented, one after another, tightly rolled
up into a ball; the creatures gulping them down quite
as a matter of course, and looking out for more,

CHAPTER VIII.
MEERKATS.

Meerkats plentiful in the Karroo—Their appearance—Intelligence—
Fearlessness — Friendship for dogs—A meerkat in England—
Meerkat an inveterate thief—An owl in Tangier—Taming full-
grown meerkat—Tiny twins—A sad accident—Different characters
of meerkats—The turkey-herd—Bob and the meerkat—‘‘ The
Mouse.”

THE little meerkats were surely created for the express
purpose of being made into pet animals. Certainly no
prettier or funnier little live toys could possibly be
imagined. Nearly every homestead in the Karroo has
its tame meerkat, or more likely two or three, all as
much petted and indulged, and requiring as much
looking after, as spoilt and mischievous children. In
their wild state, these little creatures are gregarious,
and live, like the prairie-dogs and biscachas of the
Western Continent, in deep holes underground, feed-
ing chiefly on succulent bulbs, which they scratch
up with the long, curved, black claws on their
fore-feet. They are devoted sun-worshippers; and
in the early morning, before it is daylight, they
emerge from their burrows, and wait in rows till their
divinity appears, when they bask joyfully in his beams,

158 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

They are very numerous in the Karroo; and as you ride
or drive along through the veldé you often come upon
little colonies of them, sitting up sunning themselves,
and looking, in their quaint and pretty favourite

attitude, like tiny dogs begging. As you approach,* * °

they look at you fearlessly and impudently, allowing
you to come quite close ; then, when their confiding
manner has tempted you to get down in the wild
hope of catching one of them, suddenly all pop so
swiftly into their little holes, that they seem to have
disappeared by magic.

There are two kinds of meerkats; one red, with a
bushy tail like that of a squirrel, the other grey, with
a pointed tail, and it is this latter kind which makes
so charming a pet. The quaint, old-fashioned little
fellow is as neatly made as a small bird; his coat, of
the softest fur, with markings not unlike those of a
tabby cat, is always well kept and spotlessly clean ;
his tiny feet, ears, and nose are all most daintily and
delicately finished off; and the broad circle of black
bordering his large dark eyes serves, like the anti-
iwnony of an Egyptian beauty, to enhance the size
and brilliancy of the orbs. A curious kind of seam,
starting from the middle of his chin and running
underneath him the whole length of his body, gives
him somewhat the appearance of a stuffed animal
which has not been very carefully sewn up. His
bright, pretty little face is capable of assuming the
greatest variety of expressions, that which it most
frequently wears when in repose being a contented,

A MEERKAT,

MEERKATS, 159

self-satisfied smirk ; impudence and independence dis-
playing themselves at the same time in every line of
his plump little figure. With his large, prominent
forehead, giving evidence of the ample brain within,
one need not, perhaps, wonder at his being one of the
most sagacious of animals; although it is certainly
almost startling to find all the intelligence of a dog in
a wee thing which you can put in your pocket, or
which, if buttoned up on a cold day inside the breast
of your ulster, is as likely as not, when tired of that
retreat, to squirm out down your sleeve. He is abso-
lutely without fear; and with consummate coolness
and audacity will walk up to the largest and most
forbidding-looking dog, although a perfect stranger to
him, and, carefully investigating the intruder on all
sides with great curiosity, express disgust and defiance
in a succession of little, short, sharp barks—* quark !
quark! quark!” He is soon on the friendliest terms
with all the resident dogs in the place; showing a
marked preference for those possessing soft, long-
haired coats, on which he evidently looks as a provision
of nature existing solely for his benefit, and in which,
like the little Sybarite that he is, he nestles luxuriously
on cold days, chattering and scolding indignantly, with
a vicious display of teeth, if the dog, getting up and
going away, rudely disturbs his nap. Out of doors he
is the inseparable satellite of the dog; and during
strolls about the farm—in which, by-the-by, one is
often attended by a motley crew of furred and feathered
friends—the meerkat is sure to be seen following

160 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

immediately in the wake of the dog, as closely as the
latter follows master and mistress. Even a good long
walk does not seem to tire his strong little legs, or, at
any rate, if it does he is too plucky to give in and
turn back, and as long as the dog keeps going on, he
valiantly follows every détour of that animal’s erratic
course. Often, when starting for a ride or drive, we
have been obliged to shut up our meerkat, so deter-
tnined was he to come with us.

The astonishment of dogs in England at a meerkat
brought home by us was most amusing. They would
run after him, apparently taking him for some kind of
rat; and when, to their amazement, instead of running
away, he boldly trotted up to them, and, calmly and
somewhat contemptuously surveying them, began to
beg, they would hang their heads and draw back, with
looks plainly expressive of their opinion that he was
“no canny.” It was fortunate for him that he inspired
them with such awe, for otherwise he would certainly
have died the death of a rat on one of the numerous
occasions when he got away and wandered on his own
account through the Kentish village where we were
staying. The human natives whose cottages and shops
he invaded, and to whom, with patronizing coolness
and colonial absence of ceremony, he introduced him-
self, were scarcely less puzzled than the dogs at the
queer animal we had brought from “foreign parts.”

Every meerkat is an inveterate little thief; and if
you leave him for one instant where a meal is prepared,
you are sure on returning to see him jump guiltily off

MEERKATS, 161

the table and make for the nearest hiding-place, chat-
tering triumphantly as he goes, like a blackbird caught
stealing fruit; an overtarned milk-jug, dishes rifled
of their contents, and sticky trails of butter, jam, or
gravy across the tablecloth, proclaiming how profitably
he has used his opportunity. He revels in mischief ;
and the reckless destructiveness in which he indulges,
with no possibility of advantage to himself, but just
for the fun of the thing, often brings you to the end
of your patience. You vow that you will endure him
no longer. You must get rid of him. The great
Newton himself could not have pardoned such a con-
stantly-offending Diamond. But the little rogue knows
what is passing through your mind; and he knows, too,
how to get on the right side of you. He assumes his
prettiest attitude and his most benevolent smile; and as
he sits bolt upright, turning his little head from side
to side with quick, jerky movements, calling to you
in the softest and sweetest of the numerous voices
with which nature has endowed him, he is so irresist-
ibly comical that, whatever he may have done, you
cannot find it in your heart to be wroth with him very
long. He is soon restored to favour; and then, to ex-
press his extreme contentment, he goes and lies flat on
his stomach in the sunshine, with his legs stretched out
straight. He is so flat that he seems all poured out
over the ground, and looks like an empty skin. What
becomes of his bones on these occasions is a constant
source of wonder.

The only other creature I have seen capable of so

162 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

entirely changing its form at a moment’s notice was a
little owl we have since had in Tangier. This was a
delightful pet, full of character and intelligence, though
but a tiny thing not more than four inches high—a
good part of this height consisting of the two long, ear-
like tufts of feathers on the head. The absurd little
fellow, who looked like one of the owl pepper-pots
come to life, had many amusing ways; but what de-
lighted us most about him was the startling abruptness
with which not only his manner, but his whole appear-
ance, even his shape, would change as if by magic,
according to his frame of mind. He would sit, for in-
stance, in a contemplative attitude, his eyes sleepily
half-closed, his “cars” sticking up very straight, and
his body looking extremely long and thin, as long as no
one was interfering with him; but once disturb his
repose, and instantly he would change his shape and
become a fat little ball of soft fluffiness ;—a grey powder-
puff—with no ears visible, and two great yellow eyes
glaring at you with the most ireful expression.

Unfortunately, relying too much on the tameness of
our owl, and fearful of spoiling his beauty, we neglected
the precaution of cutting one of his wings, in conse-
quence of which we were one day left lamenting this
prettiest of North African pets; and though we tried
hard to procure another, explaining, with the little
amount of Spanish at our command, to all the small
boys in Tangier that we wanted “un pajarito con ore-
jas” (“a little bird with ears,”) we never looked upon
his like again, and I imagine he must have been an
uncommon bird.

MEERKATS, 163

The best chance of capturing full-grown meerkats
is when, during long droughts, little companies of them
are travelling in search of water; they often have to go
long distances, and when they are thus far from their
holes it is possible, though by no means easy, to run
one down. In a few days, even if quite old when
caught, a meerkat will know his name, come to you
when called, or at least answer you with a little soft,
bird-like note from whatever corner of the room he
may be hiding in; scramble up into your lap, eat out
of your hand, and altogether be nearly as tame as one
which has been brought up in the house from infancy ;
though of course there is always the chance that,
knowing the joys of liberty, he may some day, like the
owl, take it into his head to desert.

T , riding one day, and encountering a little
travelling party of meerkats, gave chase on horseback.
One of the animals, a very large, fat one, made for a
hole, but found it a tight fit. He stuck fast, and
T pulled him out ignominiously by the tail,
and rode off with him. The mare—a wild, half-
broken young thing—was so mad with fright at the
way in which the little fury, though tethered by a
handkerchief, dashed about, scratching and tearing
at her sides, that she bolted all the way home. And
when T—— set the new inmate down on the floor of
the sitting-room, where it stood at bay, snarling
savagely at us, it seemed about as unpromising a
specimen on which to exercise our powers of taming
animals as could well be imagined. But, refusing to

164 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

be daunted, we began by tying our captive to the leg
of the table, where he had to accustom himself to
seeing us constantly passing and repassing ; and though
at first he tried to fly at us every time we came near,
he soon saw that we had no evil designs against him,
and was reassured by our careful avoidance of abrupt
movements and sudden noises—most important of all
rules to be observed in taming wild creatures, In a
few hours he was sufficiently at home to drink milk—
though cautiously and watchfully—from a teaspoon
held out to him; and in four days he was following
us about the house like a little dog.

This meerkat, the largest and handsomest we have
_ ever seen, cannot have been anything less than the
chief of his tribe. His powerful, tusk-like teeth, his
unusually broad and capacious forehead, his superior
intelligence, even for so clever a creature as a meerkat,
all proclaimed him born to command. When one day
he repaid the care and affection of many weeks by
cruelly and ungratefully leaving us, we felt little doubt
that, after giving civilization a fair trial, and comparing
it with his old life, he had decided in favour of the
latter, and started off home. We have often wondered
whether he succeeded in finding his way back to his
subterranean kingdom. And if so, did he find his
subjects still faithful? or was he forgotten, and did
another king reign in his stead ?

One evening, when the men returned from the camps,
one of the ostrich-herds displayed, nestling together in
the palm of his hand, two baby meerkats, no larger

MEERKATS., 165

than good fat mice, which he had caught in the velit.
Rewarding the captor, in the usual Karroo style of
barter, with a pound of coffee, we took possession of
his prize; and though at first our chance of rearing
the tiny animals seemed doubtful, they flourished,
grew up into fine specimens of their kind, and were
among the most amusing of all our pets. They looked
like a perfectly-matched pair of little images with
heads moving by clockwork, as they stood, bolt up-
right, in their favourite places, one against each door-
post, and, critically surveying the view with an air
of never having seen it before, revelled in the hot
sunshine which came pouring in through the open
doorway. ;

Unlike “ birds in their little nests,” and more after
the unamiable fashion of human twins—who generally
have to be sent to separate schools—they got on very
badly together; and their frequent fights displayed
most comically the strong contrast of the two energetic
little characters. One of them was selfish and greedy,
and, however liberal the supply of food presented—
even though it were three times as much as he could
possibly eat—always wanted all for himself. Jumping
into the middle of the plate, he would stand—a
miniature dog in the manger—noisily defending the
contents against his gentler brother, whom he would
attack and bite savagely if he ventured near. The
other was a far nobler and finer character ; and, though
he too could “ bark and bite ” on occasion in an equally
unbrotherly manner, it was no such base, material

166 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

cause of jealousy which impelled him to do battle.
Our notice and our affection were what he wanted all
for himself; and so bitterly did he resent every kind
word, every slightest caress bestowed on his companion,
that it was the instant signal for war, and, flying at
the other, he would attack him as vengefully as he in
his turn was attacked at feeding-time.

Both brothers were on terms of insolent and con-
temptuous familiarity with Toto; on whom they
looked as their slave, whom they made the butt for
their jokes, and in the soft warmth of whose coat they
slept as on the most luxurious of fur rugs. And when
he wanted to sleep and they did not, how they relished
the fun of keeping him awake against his will! What
riotous games they would have, chasing each other
backwards and forwards across his recumbent form,
pulling his poor tired eyes open with their mischievous
black claws, scratching and tickling his nose to make
him sneeze, and trying their hardest to burrow into his
ear or his mouth. One snap of his powerful jaws, and
their frivolous career would promptly have been cut
short; but the good old dog—who, in spite of all
their teasing, loved the troublesome imps—submitted
patiently, though they did make his eyes water.

One day, alas! tired out with play, they were com-
fortably nestling close up against their big friend’s
side, and all three were taking their afternoon nap.
Perhaps Toto had a disturbing dream, perhaps the flies
bothered him and made him restless,—at any rate
during his sleep he rolled over on to one of the

MEERKATS., 167

meerkats—our favourite, of course—and, all uncon-
scious of what he was doing, crushed and suffocated
the poor little fellow. Though no one thought of
blaming Toto for what was purely accidental, he
instantly and completely realized that he had caused
the death; and as we stood lamenting over the flat-
tened little body, the poor old dog’s distress was most
pathetic. He seemed quite overcome with shame; and
as he stole from one of us to the other, timidly licking
our hands, his expressive face pleaded eloquently for
the forgiveness he had no need to ask. With all our
efforts to reassure him it was a long time before his
sensitive conscience recovered from the shock. The
surviving little brother lived to a good old age, came
home with us, and succumbed at last to the severities
of an English winter.

The variety of character in our numerous meerkats
formed quite an amusing study. They differed as much
as human beings, and among them all there was but
one which was stupid. He, poor fellow, met with
injuries in early life at the hands of one of the cruel
boys who looked after the little ostriches ; who, in a
passion with him for getting in the way, picked him
up and flung him across the kitchen. He landed in a
saucepan, received spinal damage, and grew up stunted
in mind and body. And when, one day, he came
suddenly to his end by tumbling into that disappoint-
ing fountain-basin of which mention has been made,
we felt that on the whole it was rather a happy
release.

168 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

One of our meerkats was the devoted ally of the
turkeys, and would go out into the veldt with them
every day; accompanying them on all their wanderings,
and apparently looking upon himself as their herd. He
would come trotting home with them in the evening,
full of his own importance, and evidently taking to him-
self the credit of having brought them all safely back.

Another was fond of rambling off all by himself,
sometimes going a very long way from home. On one
occasion some friends from a distant farm, driving to
call on us, saw near the road what they took fora wild
meerkat, and set their collie at it. But animals have
a wonderful instinct for detecting the difference
between tame and wild creatures; and good Bob,
dearly though he loved a scamper after any of the
swift-footed denizens of the veldt, saw at once that this
was not lawful game. So, instead of the expected
chase, there was a friendly and demonstrative greeting
between the two animals. The dog stood wagging his
tail at the meerkat, the meerkat sat up “ quarking ” at
the dog, and our friends, guessing that the little
creature belonged to us, took him up into their Cape
cart, and brought him to his home.

Another meerkat, being so incorrigibly savage that
handling him was always attended with serious damage
to the fingers, had to wear a muzzle, improvised for
him by T- out of one of the little wire baskets
made for the spouts of teapots.

Another, though young and tiny, was a born tyrant;
displaying the most overbearing and imperious of

MEERKATS. 169

characters, In company with two full-grown mecr-
kats, we brought him to England; the trio being taken
on board the steamer in a large birdeage. There, how-
ever, owing to the truculent conduct of “the Mouse,”
as we called the little one, it was soon found impossible
for all three to remain together; and separate quarters
had to be provided for the two older animals. For the
impudent mite, hardly out of babyhood, domineered
over his seniors in most lordly fashion; forbidding
them to take their share of the food, and dancing and
jumping excitedly in the dish if they ventured to
approach it; while they, although they could easily
have made short work of the Mouse, calmly submitted ;
enduring his tyranny with that wonderful patience and
forbearance so often shown by animals to one another
under provocation which we human beings would
bitterly resent. Perhaps they were.overawed by the
antics of the pugnacious atom, and thought he was not
quite canny ; or perhaps they looked leniently on his
conduct as on that of a spoilt child accustomed to be
humoured.

CHAPTER IX.
BOBBY.

Bobby’s babyhood—Insatiable appetite—Variety of noises made by
Bobby—His tameness—Narrow escape from drowning—A warlike
head-gear—Bobby the worse for drink—His love of mischief—He
disarms his master—Meerkat persecuted by Bobby—Bobby takes
to dishonest ways—He becomes a prisoner—His clever tricks—
Death of Bobby.

“ Out of question thou wert born in a merry hour.”

Boppy was our tame crow. We brought him up from
earliest infancy ; indeed our acquaintance with him
commenced when he was nothing but a speckled, red-
dish-brown egg, in a nest—or, rather, a flat, untidy
bundle of sticks—in one of the few and stunted trees
on the Klipplaat road. We were anxious to have one
of these crows ; knowing what intelligent and amusing
birds they are, and having struck up a friendship with
one on a neighbouring farm, a comical old one-legged
fellow, with an inexhaustible fund of high spirits and
solemn impudence, which made him a general favourite.

So we kept an eye on this egg; riding up to the tree
occasionally, and watching the progress of the young
bird through various stages of ugliness and bareness ;
until at last we took Bobby home with us, an ungainly,

BOBBY. 170

half-fledged creature, very unsteady on his legs and
ragged as to his clothing, which latter indeed consisted
more of stiff black quills than anything else. His im-
mense bill was perpetually open ; displaying the depths
of his wide red throat as he shouted defiantly for por-
ridge, of which he never seemed to have enough. He
would take it with a loud, greedy noise, swallowing as
much of your finger with it as possible, and apparently
very much disappointed at having to let the latter go
again. He seemed to live in hope that, if he only held
on long enough, it would surely come off at last and
slip quite down his throat. If we passed anywhere
near his basket—even though he had just had an ample
feed—he would shoot up, like a black Jack-in-the-box
with a large red mouth, demanding more porridge.
The vegetarian diet suited him, and he grew into a
very large, handsome bird, with the glossiest and softest
of blue-black plumage.

He soon refused to stop in his basket; tumbling out
head first, and hobbling about the room; then, as his
strength increased, he walked and flew about outside
the house; always coming at night to sleep on our
window. In the morning, as soon as it was light, he
would fly in, and wake us up by settling on us and
pecking us gently. Then, having given us his morning
greeting, he would depart on his rounds outside ; and
presently we would hear him on the top of the house,
or on the wire fence, practising some of his endless
variety of noises; imitating the fowls, the donkeys, the

dogs, or holding long conversations with himself, the
12

172 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

greater part of which sounded like very bad language,
One day we heard the cackling of a hen, which had
apparently laid an egg on the top of the American
windmill; and, on looking up, found that Bobby had
selected this airy height as his practising-ground. It
was one of his favourite places; and often, when there,
he would catch sight of us the moment we came out of
the house, and would come flying straight down to us,
settling, sometimes quite unexpectedly, on a head or
shoulder. He knew his name, and would come to us
when we called him; unless indeed we had detected
him in some mischief, when he would walk off, and
keep carefully out of reach until he thought his offence
was forgotten.

He was our constant companion out of doors; and
when I went round to the store, gave out the men’s
rations, fed the ostriches and fowls, or superintended
the washing, he was sure to be either following close at
my heels like a dog, or perched on my shoulder,
whispering confidentially in my ear in a most affec-
tionate manner, while his bright little jewel of an eye
watched all I did with great interest. His devotion to
his master often led him to tly down the well after him,
when work had to be done or superintended there. On
one occasion he overshot the mark and got into the
water, where he very narrowly escaped being drowned.
He was pulled out with some difficulty, very wet and
miserable, too frightened to know friends from foes,
and biting his rescuer with all his might.

He would accompany us on our walks; and often took

BOBBY. 173

long rides with T——, whose white sun-helmet became
a most imposing headgear, as Bobby surmounted it,
spreading his great black wings; reminding us of the
raven-crest of some ancient Scandinavian warrior.
Then, while in full gallop, he would dart after one of the
great gaudy locusts—four inches long, and looking like
painted toys daubed with red, yellow, and green—and,
catching it on the wing with unerring aim, would
fly back with it to his place on the sun-helmet, where
he would regale with many noises expressive of satis-
faction.

Bobby was not a “temperance” bird; indeed, his
tastes lay in quite an opposite direction. We first dis-
covered his propensity by accident, and in this manner,
One day, when doctoring a sick fowl, which needed
“picking up,” I had mixed some porridge with wine,
making it very strong. Just as I was about to admin-
ister it, Bobby came hurrying up, with his inquiring
mind, as usual, all on the qui vive to see what was
going on. He plunged his bill into the porridge, and
helped himself to a large mouthful ; then, finding it to
his taste, he went on eating noisily and greedily, till he
had “taken on board” a considerable amount, and
wa.ked off satisfied. Then, having attended to my
patient, I went indoors, thinking no more of Bobby
till, some time after, Nancy, our Hottentot “help,”
came running to us, calling out, “Missis! Missis!
Bobby drunk!” We went outside; and there, sure
enough, was Bobby, on his back, his little black feet
helpiessly kicking the air, his bill wide open, and a

174 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

variety of the most astonishing sounds proceeding
therefrom, compared with which his usual, every-day
profanity was mild.

He soon recovered, and was on his legs again, none
the worse for the adventure; but it left him with
a decided taste for stimulants, which he strove to
indulge on all possible occasions. From that day he
followed me to the store more pertinaciously than ever ;
sitting on the tap of the cask while I drew the wine
for meals, bending down and twisting his neck to reach
the stream as it flowed into the jug. He gradually
learned to turn the tap himself, and was delighted if
he could catch a few drops. At last he became clever
enough to set the wine running altogether ; and, as
he never learnel to turn the tap back again, great
caution was necessary to see that he did not remain
behind in the store, which he was always trying to do.
He would often give a good deal of trouble by flying to
the very topmost shelf, from whence it was difficult to
dislodge him ; and where a chase after him involved
climbing over numerous sacks on my part, and much
knocking over of bottles and tins on that of Bobby.

Bobby loved mischief; he revelled in it, not for the
sake of any good which it brought him, but simply out
of what the Americans call “cussedness.” He was
never so happy as when busily engaged in some work
of destruction. When discovered, he would retreat to
a safe distance, and, if pursued, would always manage
to keep just out of reach; though not too far for you
to see the twinkle of enjoyment in his wicked old eye,

BOBBY. 175

and hear his defiant croak; and as he strutted before
you, looking back triumphantly over his shoulder, you
felt that he was laughing at you.

The garden was his favourite field of operations ;
and, considering the time and trouble spent in produc-
‘ing that little oasis, and in persuading plants to grow
in it, it was no small trial to be disappointed of one
crop of vegetables after another, simply owing to his
careful destruction of the young plants almost as soon
as they showed their heads above ground. It was pro-
voking, on going down to the garden, to find that the
few rows of peas or French beans, which we had so
carefully sown and watered, and which only the day
before were coming up so promisingly, had been but-
chered to make Bobby’s holiday, and were now all
rooted up, dried and shrivelled in the hot sun, and lying,
neatly arranged in order, each one in the place where
it had grown. The culprit himself would probably be
out of sight, for his gardening operations were usually
carried on in the early morning, thus securing a quiet
uninterrupted time among the plants before we were
about; but once we caught him. We were out earlicr
than usual, and found Bobby so deeply engrossed in
putting the finishing touches to a row of beans which
he had pulled up and laid in their places with even
more than his usual neatness, that he only looked up
in time to see his offended master a few yards off, and
just preparing to throw a good-sized stone. In an
instant Bobby’s mind was made up. Instead of at-
tempting flight, and getting hit by the stone, he

176 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

impulsively threw himself on T——-’s generosity, and
flew straight to his hand; looking up confidingly
in his face, and at once winning the pardon he sought.
His loving ways made us forgive many of his ini-
quities,

He liked to be “ around” during meals ; experiment-
ing on the different articles of food, and occasionally
dipping his bill into a cup of tea, or what pleased him
still more, a glass of wine. But, unfortunately, he did
not confine his attentions to the provisions, and was
constantly attempting to carry off the spoons and forks:
we narrowly escaped losing several of them, and he
succeeded in getting away with one knife, which we
never saw again. He also flew off with one of T s
razors, and, when just above the middle of the dam,
dropped it into the water.

At last his thieving propensities obliged us to forbid
him the house, and Toto learned to chase him out the
instant he appeared inside the door; the noisy hunt
often ending in Bobby’s being caught, and gently but
firmly held down under the paws of Toto, who would
lie wagging his tail contentedly, while Bobby, hurt
nowhere but in his pride, vented his rage in discordant
croaks. He became very jealous of Toto and the other
pets which, less mischievous than himself, were allowed
indoors ; and he delighted especially in teasing the little
meerkat, no less constant an attendant than himself
among the small train of animal friends which followed
us outside. Bobby would come up noiselessly behind,
and, catching the tip of the meerkat’s tail in his bill,

BOBBY. 177

would lift the little fellow off his legs, take him up a
few feet into the air, and drop him suddenly. Then,
after waiting a few moments till his victim had re-
covered his composure, and was off his guard, he would
repeat the performance. The meerkat, a plucky, in-
dependent little character, resented the insult, and
scolded and chattered vehemently, showing all his small
teeth as he hung helplessly by the tail: but he was
powerless against Bobby, and had to submit to being
whisked up unexpectedly as often as his tormentor, by
right of superior strength, chose to indulge his practical
joke.

As Bobby grew older he lost his simple vegetarian
tastes, despised porridze, and began to pick up a dis-
honest living about the fowl-house. He would fly to
meet us in the morning, and perch on our shoulders
with an impudent assumption of innocence ; quite un-
conscious that the yellow stickiness of his bill told us
he had just been breakfasting off several eggs. Then
he took to eating the little chickens; and here his
talent for mimicking the fowls stood him in good stead,
and no doubt gained him many a dinner; his exact
imitation of the hen’s call to her young ones attracting
victims within his reach. Many battles were fought
by the maternal hens in defence of their progeny; in
which Bobby always got the best of it, going off tri-
umphantly with his prize, to regale in safety on the
roof, or at the top of the windmill. Our poor little
broods cf chickens, which had enemies enough before in
the shape of hawks, wild cats, snakes, ete., diminished

178 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

rapidly with this traitor in the camp, whose capacious
appetite was equal to consuming as many as four a day,
with eggs ad libitum.

For this, and for his offences in the garden, Bobby
was at last sentenced to be tied up: a little bangle of
twisted wire was fastened round one leg, and attached
to a long piece of stout wire outside our window ; and
there, so long as there were little chickens about the
house, or tender young vegetables in the garden, he had
to remain. We felt much compunction at treating our
old friend thus, and feared that with his keen appre-
ciation of freedom, and love of independence, he would
pine in captivity ; but Bobby did nothing of the kind.
He was a far greater philosopher than we thought, and
resigned himself at once to circumstances ; making the
best of things in a manner which some of the human
race might well imitate. He harboured no resentment
against us for depriving him of freedom; but, with
his sweet temper quite unimpaired by his reverse of
fortune, would give us just as warm and joyful a
welcome, and caress us as lovingly, as in brighter days.
He did not sit idle on the perch to which we had con-
demned him ; but, his love of mischief breaking out in
quite a new direction, he immediately consoled himself
by commencing destructive operations on the window
in which he sat, and on as much of the outside of the
house as came within reach of his tether. He broke
away the plaster from the wall, knocked out the mortar
from between the bricks, and carefully picked all the
putty out of the window, the panes of which he

BOBBY. 17g

loosened so that they were always threatening to fall
out; and in a very short time our room, which was in
reality the newest part of the house, looked like an old
ruin, with crumbling wall and dilapidated window.
He had a variety of resources at his command ; and
when not engaged in the destruction of the house, he
would often be found busy on another work he had in
hand, that of trying to free himself from his bonds. No
human prisoner, filing through the iron bars of his
dungeon, ever worked more perseveringly for his
freedom than did Bobby,—biting through strand after
strand of his cord of steel wires, or slowly, but surely,
unfastening the twisted bangle on his leg ; until at last
some day he would be missing from his place—devas-
tation in the garden, empty eggshells in the hens’ nests,
.and sad gaps among the rising generation of fowls
‘showing the good use he had made of his opportunities.
No small amount of stratagem was required to re-
capture him when loose; and much time and trouble
had to be expended, and tempting dainties displayed, to
-entice him within reach—a fat mouse, if there happened
to be one in the trap, being the most effective bait.
Bobby would have been invaluable to an exhibitor
of performing animals ; his intelligence in learning the
few tricks we had the leisure to teach him showed that
he would have been capable of distinguishing himself
if he had been educated as a member of a “happy
family.” We often brought him in to show his tricks
before visitors; and his solemn way of performing
them added much to the amusement he caused. He

180 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

was a true humourist, and knew that his joke was
more telling when inade with serious face and grave
deportment.

He would lie “ dead,” flat on his back, with his blue
eyelids drawn up over his eyes; remaining motionless
for any length of time we chose, and waiting for the
word of command, when he would scramble to his feet
in a great hurry, with a self-satisfied croak at his own
cleverness. He would hang by his bill from one of
our fingers, which he had swallowed to its point of
junction with the hand ; and, with his wings drooping,
and his legs hanging straight down in a limp and help-
less manner, looking altogether a most strange and
grotesque object, would allow us to carry him about
wherever we liked. A little string of dark red beads,
brought from Jerusalem, would always throw him into
a perfect frenzy of real or pretended fright—probably
the lattcr ; and if they were put anywhere near him,
or, worse still, flung across his back, he at once com-
menced a series of startling antics, jumping and hopping
about as if possessed, and uttering very uncanny
sounds.

As the time for our return to England drew near,
we made up our minds that we could not leave Bobby
behind—he must be one of the little party of friendly
animals which were to accompany us home; and we
were already discussing in what kind of cage or box he
should travel, wondering how he would like being en-
closed in so small a space, and how he would behave at
sea ; friends in England had promised him a welcome,

BOBBY. 181

and were looking forward to seeing him—when, after
all, we had to part with him. Just three weeks before
we sailed poor old Bobby was suddenly paralyzed, and
died in a few hours. We never knew what caused his
death: whether his unconquerable curiosity had led
him to eat something poisonous ; whether the enforced
sedentary life he had led for so many weeks together
had undermined his constitution ; or whether occasional
dead snakes, and the contents of the mouse-traps, which
during his detention were always contributed in hope
of partially satisfying his large appetite, were perhaps
unwholesome diet, and shortened his days, we cannot
tell. But Bobby was sadly missed; and we still regret
that brightest and most comical of all our pets.

Some will perhaps say, “ What foolish people these
must have been, to tolerate a black imp of mischief
who destroyed their vegetables, ate their eggs, killed
their chickens, did his best to pull down their house,
and whose neck ought to have been wrung!” But,
just as among the human race those characters we love
best are not always the most faultless, so poor Bobby,
full of imperfections as he was—far from honest, not
always sober, and with that terrible bent for mischief
making him so often a nuisance—yet possessed so many
lovable qualities that his failings were redeemed ; and
he lives in our recollection as one of the kindest and
most faithful of all our South African friends, We
could have better spared a better bird.

CHAPTER X.
OUR SERVANTS,

A retrospective vision—Phillis in her domain—IIer destructiveness-—
Her ideas on personal adornment—The woes of a mistress—Eye-
service—Abrupt departure of Phillis—Left in the lurch—Nancy
and her successors—Cure of sham sickness—The thief’s dose—Our
ostrich-herd—A bride purchased with cows—English and natives
at the Cape—Character of Zulus and Kaffirs,

“* Man’s work is from sun to sun,
But woman’s work is never done. ”

Ir is always amusing, for those who have tried house-
keeping in South Africa, to hear people in England
talk of their “bad” servants. Ladies—who, after the
short quarter of an hour devoted to interviewing the
cook and giving the day’s orders, need trouble them-
selves no more throughout the twenty-four hours as to
the carrying out of those orders, but are free to pursue
their own occupations, uninterrupted by a constant
need of superintending those of their domestics,—sit
in their beautifully-kept drawing-rooms or at their
well-appointed dining-tables,—whose spotless linen and
bright glass and silver are so delicious a novelty to eyes
long accustomed to the Karroo’s rough-and-ready back-
woods style——and, much to your surprise, complain

OUR SERVANTS. 183

bitterly of the unsatisfactory parlour-maid, or are
pathetic over the iniquities of the cook who has just
sent up a faultless little dinner. When any one, thus
blissfully unconscious of what a really bad servant is,
appeals to the lady colonist for sympathy, the unfeeling
reply of the latter not unfrequently is: “ You should
try South African servants!” And instantly, before
the mind’s eye of that lady colonist, there arises a
retrospective vision of the average “coloured help” of
Cape farms; that yellow Hottentot or dark-skinned
Kaffir, attired in a scanty and ragged cotton dress ;
her woolly head surmounted by a battered and not
always over-clean kappje (sun-bonnet), or tied up in a
red and yellow handkerchief of the loudest pattern,
twisted into an ugly little tight turban. She stands, in
the bright morning sunshine, against a background of
cirty dishes and uncleaned saucepans, left neglected
since last evening’s meal; and of the comfort and
advantage to herself of cleaning which before the
adhering remnants of contents have dried and hardened
it is absolutely impossible to convince her. Dogs, fowls,
turkeys, and little pigs, in company with all the pet
animals of the family and an occasional young ostrich,
are kindly acting the part of scavengers on her unswept
kitchen floor; where they are habitués, her wasteful-
ness and untidiness affording them so good a living
that they have grown bold, and, refusing to get out of
your way, get under your feet and trip you up at every
turn if you are rash enough to enter the dirty domain
of their protectress. The latter, like some malevolent

184 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

goddess, is surrounded by an atmosphere of most evil-
smelling fumes, prominent among which is the paraffin
with which, to save herself trouble, she liberally feeds
the fire every time it becomes low; while the dense
smoke and steam arising from several pots and sauce-
pans on the stove proclaim the contents to be in various
stages of burning,—the climax being reached by what
was once the soup, but of which nothing now remains
but a few dried and charred fragments of bone, tightly
adhering to an utterly ruined pot—new last week.
In answer to all expostulation the doer of the mis-
chief has no word of regret or apology, but, taking the
occurrence as a matter of course, shows all her even
white teeth in a bright, good-tempered smile, as she
says, “ Yes, missis, de soup is burnt.”

Then still more horrible whitts assail you, viz., the
combined odours of the various articles of food which
she has put away, carefully covered up in jars and tins,
where she has forgotten them ; and where, in the close
atmosphere of her stuffy kitchen, with the thermometer
at 100°, they have promptly gone bad. She has no
“nose”; and, though her kitchen may be pervaded with
odours which knock you down, she remains smiling and
contented, and needs to be informed of the fact that
there is a bad smell before she will set to work—with
great surprise—to hunt out the cause of it; too often
revealing sights which make you shudder.

If it is anywhere near a meal-time, her fire is sure
to be very low, if not out altogether ; she has, of course,
forgotten to tell the men, before starting for the camps

OUR SERVANTS. 185

in the morning, to chop wood for her day’s needs;
and as they, like all the coloured race, never perform
the most every-day duty unless specially reminded,
she has to do this work herself, with much difficulty
and dawdling; the luncheon or dinner being accord-
ingly delayed indefinitely. If, on the contrary, it is
between meals, and no cooking wilt be required for
several hours, there is a roaring fire, over the hottest
part of which the chances are ten to one that you will
find the empty kettle; while you are fortunate indeed
if in your immediate and anxious investigation of the
boiler you are yet in time to avert irretrievable damage.

Any dirty water or refuse which is thrown away at
all is flung just outside the kitchen door, where it lies
in unsightly heaps and pools, attracting myriads of
flies; a plentiful sprinkling of which, needless to state,
find their way, in a drowned, boiled, baked, roast or
fried condition, into every article of food sent to table.
Occasionally a teaspoon is tossed out among the rubbish,
and lies glittering in the sunshine, ready to tempt the
‘first ostrich that happens to prowl past the door. A
very frequent counting of plate is necessary ; and in-
deed, with such careless and not always honest servants,
it is best to have no silver in daily use.

Breakages are ruinously numerous; each rough-
handed Phillis in succession having her own private
hiding-place, generally in the middle of some large
bush, where—in spite of the standing promise that any
accident honestly confessed will receive instant pardon
—the fragments of all the glass, earthenware, and

186 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

china destroyed through her carelessness are quietly
put away out of sight, and, as she hopes, out of mind.
Then perhaps, one day, having a little time to spare,
you are looking about among the bushes to find out
where the white turkey lays, and suddenly see, gleam-
ing out through the dark foliage, what you at first
take for a goodly number of the expected eggs. But
alas! on closer investigation you recognize the familiar
patterns of your pretty breakfast and dinner services ;
chosen carefully in England, with bright anticipations
of the colonial home for which they were destined.
For a long time their number has been mysteriously
but steadily decreasing; till now there are but two
soup-plates left, the cracked and chipped vegetable-
dishes cannot among them boast of one handle, and
the tureen, being without a lid, has to be covered igno-
miniously with a plate. Egg-cups there are none, and
their places have long been supplied—not altogether
unsuccessfully—by napkin-rings.

Constant relays of cups and saucers, as well as of
glasses, are needed from Port Elizabeth; a dozen of
either lasting but a very short time in the coloured
girl’s destructive hands. Opportunities of getting
things sent up to the farm do not present themselves
every week ; and to be provided, at one and the same
time, with a sufficient supply of both glass and china is
as unheard-of a state of affluence as was the possession,
by poor Mr. Wilfer, of a hat and a complete suit of
clothes all new together. An influx of unexpected
visitors is sure to arrive at the time of greatest defi-

OUR SERVANTS. 187

ciency ; and the wine at dinner often has to be poured
into a motley collection of drinking-vessels, among
which breakfast and tea-cups, in a sadly saucerless and
handleless condition, largely predominate over glasses.
Another time it is the china which is conspicuous by its
absence; a large party of strangers who have out-
spanned at the dam are asked in to rest for an hour or
two on their journey, and the hostess finds herself
obliged to hand the afternoon tea to her guests in
tumblers.

The linen fares no better at the hands of Phillis than
does the china. The best table-cloths and most delicate
articles of clothing are invariably hung to dry, either
on ungalvanized wires which streak them with iron-
mould, or on the thorniest bushes available, from whose
cruel hooks, pointing in all directions, it is impossible
to free them without many a rent. You spend much
time and trouble over the work of extricating them,
remonstrate with Phillis for the hundredth time on her
rough treatinent of them, and soon after, passing again,
find that, all having been spread out on the stony
ground near the dam, right in the path of the ostriches
coming up from the water, numerous muddy impressions
of large, two-toed feet crossing and recrossing the linen
necessitate the whole wash being done over again.
Although a clothes-line and pegs are provided, they are
contemptuously ignored, and—the latter especially—
never used except under the closest supervision; thus
handkerchiefs, socks, and all the lighter articles of

wearing-apparel are allowed to go flying away across
13

188 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

the veldt; where, on long rides, you occasionally
recognize fragments of them flapping about dismmally
on the bushes.

A strict watch has to be kept on the table-napkins,
or they are sure to be carried to the kitchen and pressed
into the dirtiest of service as dish-cloths, lamp-cleaners,
etc. However many kitchen-cloths and dusters may
have been given out, you never find one which is fit to
touch; nor, until experience has taught you to keep
the paraffin and its attendant rags under lock and key,
and yourself to superintend the cleaning and filling of
the lamps, is there one cloth which does not communi-
cate the smell and flavour of the oil to every plate,
cup, and glass brought to table. Every cloth is satu-
rate l with grease, all have large holes burnt in them,
and a good many have been deliberately torn into
quarters, or into whatever smaller sizes Phillis may
have judged convenient for her ends. She has spared
only those which, with their broad pink-and-white
borders—with “Teacloth” in large letters, and a little
teapot in each corner—have pleased her eye, and struck
her as suitable adornments for her person; and which
accordingly you often find twisted round the woolly
head in place of the red and yellow turban, or grace-
fully draped on neck and shoulders as a fichu.

Like other daughters of Eve, she possesses her due
amount of vanity, and has her own ideas—thouch they
are sometimes strange ones—on the subject of improv-
ing her personal appearance. If she is of a careful
turn of mind, and mends her own dresses—though

OUR SERVANTS. 189

most frequently she wears them torn and buttonless,
fastened together only by the numerous black or
white safety-pins which she has abstracted—she scorns
to patch with the same colour, or anything near it,
but introduces as much variety as possible into the
garment by choosing the strongest contrasts of hue and
greatest diversity of materials. Thus her pink or
yellow cotton dress will be patched with a piece of
scarlet flannel or bright blue woollen stuff; the blue
skirt, of which the latter is a portion, having been
tastefully repaired with a large square of Turkey red.

One day a bottle of salad oil is dropped and broken
on the sitting-room floor; and Phillis is called in to
remove the traces of the accident. Why does she look
so delighted as she goes down on her knees beside the
unctuous pool? and why does she not proceed to wipe it
up? The reason is soon seen when she prepares for
action by whisking off her bright handkerchief-turban.
Then the pallid palms of her monkey-like hands are
plunged blissfully into the oily mess, and again and
again vigorously rubbed over head and countenance,
till the thick mass of wool is saturated and dripping
like a wet sponge, and the laughing face shines like a
mirror. She is far too much absorbed to notice the
amusement her performance is giving to hosts and
guests; and when all the late contents of the bottle
have been successfully transferred to her person, she
goes back in high glee to her kitchen, rejoicing in her
increased loveliness.

The house work is no less of a failure than are the

190 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

kitchen and laundry departments. The art of bed-
making has to be taught, with much patience and
perseverance, to each successive untutored savage ;
who—if she has not come straight from some bee-hive-
shaped hut where beds are totally unknown—has lived
in a Boer’s house where, when it is thought worth while
to make the beds at all (by no means an every-day
business) it is never done till the evening, when it is
just time to return to them—and then is not done in a
manner which at all accords with English ideas, In
the morning, each portion of the room and each article
of furniture which requires cleaning or dusting must
be separately and individually pointed out to your
handmaiden ; the corner where you do not specially teil
her to sweep, and. the table or bookshelf which you for-
get to commend to the attentions of her feather-brush,
being invariably left untouched. It is the same with
all the rest of her work ; you have long ago found it
impossible to make her understand a thing once for all,
or to establish any sort of regular routine. She needs
to be daily reminded of each daily duty, or it is not
done. And then, unless under constant supervision,
most wearying to her mistress, it is sure to be done
wrong. Ofcourse she never thinks of reminding you
of anything, but is only tvo delighted if you have for-
gotten it. If, through some unlucky oversight, you
have not told her to put the joint into the oven and the
potatoes on the fire, the chances are that both will be
found uncooked when the dinner-hour arrives. And
even when all is ready to be served up, you must

OUR SERVANTS. 191i

again remind her of each dish, and of the proper order
in which it is to make its entrance, or it is quite certain
to be brought in at the wrong stage of the repast—if
brought at all. But perhaps you have become absorbed
in the conversation at table, and so are unobservant of
the non-appearance of the greens or other vegetables,
till next morning you find them, still in the saucepan,
and in a cold and sodden condition.

Thus every detail of each day’s “trivial round” has
to pass throuch the mind of the mistress, who is com-
pelled to neglect her work in looking after that of a
servant who will not use her own head. One goes. to
bed at night footsore with running after this terrible
servant; and with a head still more wearied by the
constant strain of doing all the thinking for every de-
partment of the housekeeping. Of course it amounts
to much the same as doing the work yourself; and
but for “the honour of the thing”—like the Irishman
strutting along proudly inside the bottomless sedan-
chair, though complaining that he “might as well have
walked ”—you might as well be without a servant.
With South African domestics one realizes indeed the
meaning of the word * eye-service”; for not one of them,
even the best, knows what it is to be couscientious,
They never do a thing right because it is rizht ; what-
ever they think will not be seen is neglected; and they
are placidly inditferent as to whether their work is
done well or badly, and whether you are pleased or not.
One gets so tired of the apathetic yellow or black faces ;
which never brighten but into a childish laugh, gener-

192 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

ally at something which is the reverse of a laughing
matter for the employer.

Altogether, Phillis is in every way exasperating, and
is the great drawback to life on Cape farms. But she
is the only kind of servant available ; and if you lose
patience with her and let her go, you may have to do
the whole work of the house yourself, possibly for a
week or more, till another, closely resembling her, or
perhaps worse, can be found. Therefore, you put up
with much, rather than make a change which woul]
involve the training of a raw recruit all unused to
English ways, to cleanliness, and to comfort ; and indeed
hardly acquainted with the rudiments of civilization.

But, unluckily, Phillis herself loves change; it is
irksome to her volatile nature to remain long in one
place; and accordingly, just as she is becoming used
to your ways, and you Hatter yourself that you will
eventually get her into some sort of training, she flits
off, regardless of the inconvenience she may cause.
She never tells you in a straightforward manner that
she wishes to leave ; never gives you time to look out
for a substitute ; but departs unexpectedly, an:l always
in one of two ways. Most commonly she rises in
sudden insubordination, gets up a row of the first mag-
nitude on some trifling pretence, and behaves in so
turbulent and uproarious a manner that you are thank-
ful to be rid of her at any cost, and dismiss her then
and there; which is just what she wanted,

Or, if she is one of the more peaceful and amiable
sort, and has some kindly feeling for the “ missis, ” she

OUR SERVANTS. 193

leaves the latter in the lurch in a less offensive, though
even more heartless manner. She does not ask for a
holiday, but announces her intention of taking one;
faithfully promises to return at the end of four days,
and departs, riding astride on a lean and ragged scare-
crow of a horse, brought for her bya party of
Hottentot friends. It is true she leaves no possessions
behind to ensure her coming back ; for she never has
any luggage, and her wardrobe, being of. the scantiest,
is all well contained in the handkerchief-bundle which
jozs at her side as she trots off. But new chums, fresh
from England, and innocent of the ways of the Karroo,
are always taken in the first time the trick is played
on them; and as the queer-looking cavalcade departs,
bearing in its midst the giggling Phillis, no disquieting
suspicions cross the mistress’s mind. She determines
to make the best of it for those four days, and goes
bravely to work; either single-handed, or with the so-
called help of a smal! Hottentot girl, who comes just
when she chooses—sometimes remaining away a whole
day, sometimes arriving in the afternoon when most of
the work is done—and who lives so far off that going
after her would be useless waste of time. The hours
are counted to the time appointed for Phillis’s return,
but—needless to state—she is never again seen or heard
of; and the victim of her fraud learns by experience
that as soon as a servant talks of a holiday it is time to
begin the weary search for a successor ; never found
without plenty of riding about the country, much in-
quiring on neighbouring and distant farms, and many
disappointments,

194 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

It is not much use taking English servants to the
Karroo; the life is too dull for them, they hear of high
wages to be had in Port Elizabeth and other towns, and
you never keep them long. The man and wife, both
excellent servants, who came with us from England,
left us soon after we came up-country ; and from that
time we had none but coloured servants for house and
farm. There was indeed a sudden transformation in
our little kitchen; from the quiet, neatly-dressed, white-
aproned Mrs. Wells to noisy Hottentot Nancy, in
dirtiest of pink cotton, profusely patched with blie
and yellow. And the kitchen itself was no less changed
than its presiding genius. Now began a time of good
hard work for me—for which the usual bringing-up of
English girls, followed by years of travel and of hotel
life, was not the best of training; and, though I had
learned much from Mrs. Wells, I was often sadly at a
loss during the first weeks after her departure. No
dish, however simple, which I myself was not able to
cook, could be cooked by Nancy or any of her suc-
cessors ; all were obliged to see it done at least once
before they would attempt it. At this time cookery-
books were almost my only literature; and many times a
day I sought counsel in a bulky volume wherein recipes
and prescriptions, law and natural history, etiquette
and the poultry-yard, formed a somewhat startling
jumble; and whose index presented, in immediate
juxtaposition, such incongruous subjects as liver, lobster,
lumbago—marmalade, mayonnaise, measles, meat—
shrimps, Shropshire pudding, sick-room, sirloin, sitting-

OUR SERVANTS. 19§

hens, ete. As many despairing sighs as ever fluttered
the inky pages of a school lesson-book were breathed
over this stout volume. T——, who, after living for
years in rougher places than the Karroo, has acquired
considerable experience and is a capital cook, helped me
out of many a difficulty ; and in time I learned to be a
tolerably good general servant—which you must be
yourself, if you are ever to do any good with Kaflirs
or Hottentots. But it was a pity that, when young,
instead of many of the things learned at school, I did
not acquire what would at this time have made me
more independent of servants.

Why is not a knowledge of cooking and house-
keeping made a part of every English girl’s education ?
Then, in the event of a colonial life being one day her
lot, she is to some extent prepared to encounter the
difficulties of that life ; while, even if she should marry
a millionaire, and be waited on hand and foot for the
rest of her days, she is none the worse for possessing
the knowledge of how things ought to be done in her
house—indeed, every woman who orders a dinner
should know something of how it is to be cooked.

Nancy, our first native servant, was also the best we
ever had ; always bright and good-tempered, and sing-
ing over her work in a really charming voice. On the
whole she was far more intelligent than most of her
race ; and we were really sorry when the equestrian
family party carried her from our sight, never to
return. Then came a succession of “ cautions,” each
worse than her predecessor; and between them all

196 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

we did indeed, as Mark Twain has it, “ know something
about woe.”

Nancy’s immediate successor was in every respect
her opposite; idle, impudent, surly, and dishonest ;
eating as much as two men, but doing no work that
was worth anything. She kept yawning all day with
loul howls that were most depressing to hear; and
when I went into the kitchen I was pretty sure to find
her fast asleep, with head and arms on the table.

Our next specimen was a nearly white half-caste,
with light-coloured wool, and pale-grey, dead-looking
eyes ; who always reminded us of one of the horrible,
sickly-looking white lizards, so common in Karroo
houses. She was half-witted, and most uncanny-look-
ing ; with such a ghastly, cold, unsympathetic manner
and stony stare that we named her Medusa. We could
have picked out many a better servant from the Earls-
wood Asylum. I was continually trying to think of
all the idiotic things she might possibly do, and thus
guard against them beforehand; yet she always took me
by surprise by doing something ten times more stupid
than anything I had dreamed of.

Then came a tall, gaunt old Mozambique negress ; in
appearance unpleasantly like an ancient Egyptian
mummy, and with clothing which looked as though it
had been “resurrected” at the same time as herself
from a repose of some three thousand years. Only a
dirty old black pipe, seldom absent from her lips,
savoured, not of the necropolis of Thebes or of Memphis,
but of the very vilest Boer tobacco, Besides being an

OUR SERVANTS. 197

inveterate old thief, she was the exact opposite of a
total abstainer ; and the frequent “drop too much” in
which she indulged was always the occasion for a
display of choice language and a reckless destruction
of crockery.

But these are enough ; suffice it to say that the same
types of character ran through a long line of successors,
and that, taking them all round, I had about the same
amount of trouble with all of them.

T ’s men required almost as much looking after
as my women; and, in order to get his herds off to work
in good time, it was generally necessary for him to go
down himself at sunrise to their little huts, not far
from the house, and wake them up. As a rule they
were not fond of work; and many were the excuses
they would invent in order to avoid it as much as
possible. Being “sick” was of course a favourite plea;
and, whatever the nature of the complaint from which
they professed themselves to be suffering, they were
always convinced that a swppje (drink) of prickly pear
brandy or of “Cape smoke” * ‘would be just the thing
toset them right.. At one time quite an epidemic of sham
sickness broke out; but, as we soon saw through the
trick, and knew that our would-be patients were per-
fectly well, we did not indulge them with their favourite
remedy, but determined to make an example. We
accordingly treated a very palpable case of shamming
with a medicine of our own concoction. We mixed a
good saucerful of Gregory’s powder and castor oil into

* Boer brandy,

198 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

. the thickest of paste; and prolonged the agony by
making the man eat the stuff with a teaspoon, while
we stood sternly on guard, to see that there was no
evasion, And then we promised a second dose in the
event of the first failing to effect a cure. No need to
say that the victim hastened to report himself quite
well, and that as long as he remained on the farm he
was never “sick” again. The fame of the terrible
medicine spread, and we did not hear of much more
illness among our men.

This dose was mild, however, in comparison with
one of which I have heard, which was prepared by
some gentlemen of our acquaintance. They were living
in a tent on the Diamond Fields; and for some tiine
had noticed a very rapid diminution of their supply of
brandy. Not knowing which of their native servants
was the culprit, they resolved to set a trap; and,
putting a little croton oil into the brandy-bottle, leit
the latter in a temptingly prominent position. ‘The
next morning one of the servants, a big, stout fellow,
was missing; and for ten days nothing was seen or
heard of him. When, at the end of that time, he re-
appeared, he was transformed into such a poor, limp,
wasted living skeleton that he could hardly be recog-
nised. He went back to his work without a word;
and never again did the brandy-bottle’s attractions
lure him from the path of honesty.

The best and most hard-working of all our men
was a sturdy Zulu, who, both in face and fizure,
exactly resembled that life-like wooden statue—one

OUR SERVANTS. 199

of the oldest in the world—which, in the Museum at
Cairo, gives us so accurate a portrait of an ancient
Egyptian. In looking at it you feel that you can read
the character of this man who lived three or four
thousand years ago; and know that, although one of
the best-tempered of souls, he was as obstinate as
Pharaoh himself. Nor were these qualities larking in
his modern fac-simile, the ostrich-herd; whose broad
countenance, as he strode after his long-legged charges,
bearing, in place of the Egyptian’s staff of office, a stout
tackey, wore the identical expression which that artist
of long ago has caught so well. The good fellow
showed a laudable tenacity of purpose in the steady
perseverance with which he was putting by all he could
save of his wages, and investing the money in cows.
With these latter it was his intention to purchase a
wife, as soon as a sufficient number could be collected
to satisfy the demands of the prospective father-in-law,

A marriage after this fashion, although not quite in
accordance with English ideas, has certainly the ad-
vantage of inducing good habits in the intending
Benedick. In the first place, he learns to economize
instead of spending his money on drink. He will, of
course, take as many swpyyes as you like to offer him;
but you will never find him going off on the spree for
two or three days, and coming back considerably the
worse for his outing, as those of his brethren who have
not his motive for thrift are too fond of doing, He is
altogether a better servant than they, being less inde-
pendent and more anxious to please. Often, too, he

200 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

learns to exercise much patience; for, if the girl is
pretty, or the father—who always has a keen eye to
business—observes that the swain is very devoted, a
high price is fixed; and the bridegroom-elect has to
work for years, like Jacob for Rachel, till he has
accumulated the required number of cows.

Daughters, being such a profitable source of capital,
are of course much valued by the parents; to whom,
besides, in that sunniest of climates, a large family
brings none of the cares and anxieties which it entails
on the English labouring-man. The more children a
Zulu has, the better he is pleased ; the birth of a girl
especially being welcomed as gladly as is that of a son
among the Jews, and indeed among Orientals generally.

English people settling in the Cape Colony usually
start with a strong prejudice in favour of the coloured
race. They think them ill-treated, bestow on them a
good deal of unmerited sympathy, and credit them
with many good qualities which they do not possess.
By the time they have been a year or two in the country
a reaction has set in; they have discovered that the
negro is a fraud; they hate him, and cannot find any-
thing bad enough to say of him. Then a still longer
experience teaches them that the members of this
childish race are, after all, not so bad, but that they
require keeping in their places—treating in fact as you
would treat children twelve years old. In intelligence,
indeed, they never seem to advance much beyond that
age. You must, of course, be just with them; but
always keep them at a distance. Above all, never let

OUR SERVANTS. 201

either men or women servants know that you are
pleased with them, or they will invariably presume.

It seems a hard thing to say, but it does not do to be
too patient and indulgent; excessive leniency only
spoils them, just as it does the Hindoo servants. One
of our relatives, a kind and gentle chaplain in India,
finding that he was worse waited on than any of his
neighbours, and asking his head servant one day why
the latter and all his subordinates worked so badly, paid
so little attention to orders, etc., received the following
candid answer from the man: “ Why not sahib give
plenty stick, and mem-sahib call plenty pig? Then
we good servants.”

A Boer gets much more work out of the natives than
an Englishman, The latter is at one time too severe,
and at another too lenient ; but the Boer’s treatment is
uniformly just and firm. Perhaps the expression, “like
a Dutch uncle,” may have originated in the Cape
Colony.

The Zulus and Kaffirs are by nature fine, generous
characters, comparatively free from dishonesty and
untruthfulness ; though unfortunately they too soon
acquire both these vices, as well as numerous others,
when they come in contact with civilization, which in
their case certainly seems, as Bret Harte has it, “a
failure.” On the Diamond Fields the best servants are
invariably those who are taken fresh from their kraals;
even the fact of their knowing a few words of English
being found a disadvantage.

A Zulu is always somewhat of a gentleman, and

202 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

possesses a certain code of honour, although to us it
seems rather a queer one. For instance, though he will
on no account rob his own master, he will not hesitate
to steal a sheep from a neighbouring farm, if he should
‘happen to feel inclined for a “ big feed”; on which occa-
sion the amount of meat he is able to consume at one
sitting is positively alarming. He evidently looks upon
the sheep much as Queen Elizabeth is said to have re-
garded the goose, viz., asa creature of most inconvenient
size, “too much for one, but not enough for two.” When
periodical rations of meat are served out to him he
always eats up the whole of his allowance on the first
evening, apparently oblivious of the fact that he will
have to go without for the rest of the week. And then
he subsists, contentedly enough, on mealies, till the
joyful time comes for his next good square meal of
goat or mutton. He is the happiest and best-tempered
of souls, never bearing any animosity, and always
ready to forgive ; and although he seems incapable of
any real attachment to his employers, and is most
strangely destitute of all sense of gratitude, one cannot
help liking him. Altogether the Zulus are quite the
aristocracy of the negro race; and, even at their worst,
contrast very favourably with the Hottentots and
Bushmen, whose character has hardly a redeeming
point, and seems made up of all the lowest and most
ignoble qualities.

CHAPTER XI,
HOW WE FARED.

Angora goats—Difficulty of keeping meat—The plague of flies—Rations
—Our store—Barter—Fowls—Chasing a dinner—Fowls difficult
to rear—Secretary birds as guardians of the poultry-yard —Jacob
in the Karroo—He comes down in the world—He dies—Antelopes
—A springbok hunt—The Queen’s birthday in the Karroo—
Colonial dances—Our klipspringer—Superstition about hares—
Game birds—Paauw—Knorhaan—Namaqua _partridges—Porcu-
pines—A short-lived pet—Indian corn—Stamped mealies—Whole-
meal bread—Plant used for making bread rise—Substitutes for
butter—Priembesyes—A useful tree—Wild honey—The honey bird
—Enemies of bees—Moth in bees’ nests—Good coffee—Sour milk,

“ How did you live?” is a question we have very often
been asked by friends, who, evidently thinking that our
fare on that far-away South African farm must neces-
sarily have been of the roughest, and that from a
gastronomic point of view we were deeply to be pitied,
have been quite surprised to hear that on the whole we
lived very well.

To be sure there were drawbacks. In the first place,
however simply you may live in the Cape Colony, you
cannot possibly live cheaply; for import duties are
ruinously heavy, and almost everything, with the ex-

cvption of meat, has to be imported. Wheat, for
14

204 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

instance, has to be brought from Australia; the por,
dry South African colony being quite unable to produce
anything like a sufficient supply for its needs. Then,
too, green vegetables are very far from being an every-
day item in the menw; and as for fresh fish, it is a
still rarer luxury, indeed throughout all the long, hot
summer it is absolutely unobtainable on the farms, and
one almost forgets what it is like. Eggs and butter,
too, have their long periods, first of excessive and in-
creasing scarcity, and then of entire abs:nce from
kitchen and table.

But in the colonies people soon learn to accommodate
themselves to circumstances, and contentedly to do
without many of the things which in England seemed
such necessary adjuncts to daily life. They even become
accustomed to a very sad lack of variety in the matter
of meat. From one year’s end to another merino mut-
ton and Angora goat are almost uuchangingly the order
of the day ; the bill of fare being varied by beef only on
those rare occasions, during the very coldest weather,
when one of the farmers—having ascertained before-
hand that a sufficient number of neighbours are willing
to share the meat—is enterprising enough to slaughter
an ox, But the difficulties of keeping meat are such
that sheep and goats are generally found to be quite
large enough ; indeed, in the hot weather, they are very
much too large, and one is continually wishing that a
diminutive race of mutton-producing quadrupeds—say
of the size of Skye terriers—were in existence for the
benefit of housekeepers in sultry climates. Fortunately

:

HOW WE FARED. 205

you do not get so tired of perpetual mutton as might
be expected, and it does not pall on the taste as beef or
fowl would do under the same circumstances. As we
had only a few sheep, but possessed a flock of several
hundred Angoras, our standing dish was, of course,
goat. Let not the traveller pity us who on his journey-
ings—in Southern Europe for instance—has had the
misfortune to partake of the tough, stringy, and
strongly-tlavoured goat’s flesh too often iniquitously
substituted for mutton by unprincipled hotel-keepers.
As different as black from white is that unholy viand
from our delicious Angora meat; equal, if not superior,
to the best mutton.

The goats are beautiful creatures, with a profusion
of long, wavy hair, which is as soft and glossy as the
finest silk, and which, in the thoroughbred animals, is
of the purest white, and nearly touches the ground.
In the evening it is a pretty sight to watch the goats
coming down from the mountains, on whose steep and
rocky sides they have browsed all day ; and where, as
they descend, they form a long line of snowy white
against the red and green background of the aloes and
spekboom. It is pleasant, too, to go out to the kraals
when the little kids, which all arrive at about the same
time, are only a few days old. These goats are prolific
creatures, many of them aaving two, or even three
young ones at once. The crowded enclosure is all alive
with the merry, noisy little fellows, jumping and seam-
pering about in all directions ; and within a few days
the number of the flock seems to have almost doubled.

206 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

Angora goats are now more profitable than ostriches ;
although the hair, like feathers, has sadly decreased in
value, the price having fallen from 4s. 6d. to 9d. per lb.
It seems strange that Angora hair should remain at
such a low price ; for a costly plush is now made from
it, besides very beautiful rugs, many of them perfect
imitations of leopard, tiger, and seal-skin—the latter
hardly less expensive than real seal.

The morning on which a goat or sheep is killed—
especially during very hot weather—ushers in a time
of care and anxiety for the frugal housewife. From
the moment when the animal expires under the black
herd’s hands, until the last joint has been brought to
table, that meat is an incubus which sits heavy on her
soul all day, and occasionally even haunts her dreams
at night. She has to wage persistent war against
adverse agencies, always in readiness to work its de-
struction, and, with all her vigilance, too often success-
fully robbing her of a good portion of it.

First and foremost of all enemies the flies are in the
field. As soon as the dead goat or sheep is hung up
ont of doors, in as cool and shady a place as can be
found—though this is by no means saying much—it
must instantly be enclosed in a capacious, tightly-tied
and carefully-mended bag of mosquito-net, large enough
to cover the whole animal. For all around, buzzing
excitedly, and eagerly looking out for an opening, how-
ever sinall, through which to squeeze in and do their
deadly work, are crowds of big, noisy, determined
blue-bottles—though, by the way, if I may be allowed

HOW WE FARED, 207

so Irish an expression, in the Karroo these abominations
are all green, and—gorgeous as Brazilian beetles—flash
like great emeralds in the sunshine.

Phillis, of course, cannot be trusted to go alone to
that open-air larder, for she will invariably leave the
bag unfastened, even if by her rough handling she does
not tear a yawning rent in its side. In the house too,
she does her utmost to further the evil designs of the
flies, and, if she uses the meat-safe at all, makes a
point of leaving it wide open till a host of “green-
bottles” has collected inside ; when she closes it, leaving
them in blis-ful possession of their prize.

And oh, the house-flies! Truly the plague of flies
is in every Karroo home; and, next to the servants, it
is the greatest bane of farm life. And what flies they
are! Their brethren in other parts of the world,
though obnoxious enough, can almost by comparison
be called well-behaved. For, except when eatables are
about, they do seem to have some idea of keeping to
themselves and minding their own business ; which
latter usually consists in dancing—in the air, and
always in the very centre of the room—a kind of
quadrille of many intricate figures, the accurate per-
formance of which, holding them completely engrossed,
keeps them, for a time at least, out of mischief. But
the South African fly has no such resources of his own
to keep him amused ; consequently he devotes all his
energy and the whole of his time to one object—that of
making life a burden to the unfortunate human beings
on whom he has chosen to quarter himself. Not

208 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

content with spoiling your appetite at meals by the
exhibition of his repulsive little black body in every
dish that comes to table, every cup of tea or glass
of wine that is poured out—where, whether cooked to
death, or yet alive and struggling, it is an equally un-
welcome and discusting sight—he makes it his business
to see that throughout the whole day you do not, if he
can help it, get one instant’s peace. No matter how
large the room may be, no place in it will suit him for
aperch but just your nose, or the hand which happens
to be busily engaged in some operation requiring
extreme steadiness, to which a jerk would be fatal ;
and however many times he is rebuffed, he comes back,
with the most unerring and fiendish precision, to exact-
ly the self-same spot, till he has set up a maddening
irritation, not only of the skin, but still more of the
temper. For he possesses, in the very strongest degree,
the quality which led those most observant of natural-
ists, the ancient Egyptians, to institute the military
order of the Fly. A good general, they argued, is like
a fly ; for, however often he may be repulsed, he always
returns persistently to the attack. So they invested
the successful leader of their armies with a gold chain,
from which, at intervals, hung several large flies of
pure, beaten gold, about four inches broad across the
closed wings. And in the Cairo Museum a very
beautiful chain of this kind is to be seen.

That South African fly was, indeed, the torment of
our lives, until one day we made a grand discovery.
We found out that he could not stand Keating’s insect-

HOW WE FARED. 209

powder. If only the smallest grain of it touched any
part of his person he was doomed; and in about five
minutes would be sprawling helplessly on his back, pre-
paring to quit a world in which he had been so great a
nuisance. “Peppering the flies” became a regular
institution, the first business of each morning; and in
all the rooms, most especially in the kitchen—where the
whole atmosphere seemed one vast buzz—the foe would
be driven, by the vigorous flapping of a cloth, into the
well-sprinkled windows where his fate awaited him.
Soon every fly would be dead; and as we gloated over
the dustpans full of slain we invoked benedictions on
the name of Keating.

By taking care to keep every door and window on
the sunny side of the house either closed or covered
with fine net, we- managed, thanks to this delightful
powder, to exist in peace, instead of being given over
to the flies like our neighbours; many of whom would
calmly submit to any nuisance rather than take a little
trouble to get rid of it, and would sit quite contentedly
in the midst of a buzzing cloud, with flies popping into
their tea one after another, or struggling by dozens in
the butter-dish. We found that one of the small bellows
made for blowing tobacco-smoke into bee-hives became,
when filled with Keating, a very formidable engine of
destruction ; a couple of puffs, sending the fine powder
in all directions, would settle every fly in the room.
In fact no one, even in the most tropical of climates,
need be troubled with flies, if only this simple remedy
is used. If I had but known of its efficacy a few years

210 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

before, when up the Nile on a dahabich swarming with
flies! And if, in that same Egypt, poor Menephtah
had only known of it three thousand years ago! Mr.
Keating’s fortune would have been a colossal one if he
had lived then.

But to return to our Angora. As soon as the meat
has been cut up it is usually sprinkled very plentifully
with salt, and wrapped up for a few hours in the skin ;
after which the greater portion of it is put into pickle.
For in the hot weather only a very small quantity can
be eaten unsalted, as it becomes tainted almost at once.
Even in strong brine, and with the most careful rubbing
and turning, the meat is sometimes quite uneatable on
the second day, especially if the weather happens to be
thundery. And thunder-storms, when they do come,
almost invariably select the time when an animal has
just been killed. N.B.—The “pope’s eye” must always
be carefully taken out as soon as the meat is cut up, or
the joint will immediately become tainted.

Where the family is a small one it is a good plan,
during the hot weather, to include meat among the
men’s rations. The herds on the farms receive weekly,
as part of their pay, a certain quantity of meal, coffee,
sugar, salt, tobacco, etc.; and the store where all these
supplies are kept and weighed out on large and
business-like scales, looks—with its piles of sacks and
packing-cases, its numerous shelves, rows of bottles,
tins of preserved meats and other provisions—not at
all unlike the general shop of an English village, with
a little in the chemist’s and tobacconist’s line as well.

HOW WE FARED. ait

It is the work of the mistress of the house to give
out the rations; and her movements, while manipu-
lating the scales, are watched in a very criticizing and
suspicious manner by the black recipients, who always
seem terribly afraid that she will give them short
weight. In reality she is anxiously and almost ner-
vously careful that every pound she gives them shall
be a good one; and if she errs at all it is on their side,
never on her own. In the matter of tobacco her heart
is especially soft, and the spans she measures off those
great coils of dark-brown rope—which surely must be
akin to “ pigtail tobacco ”—are far longer than can be
stretched by her hand, or indeed by any hand but that
of a giant. But in this, as in every other item of the
rations, she is most unjustly and ungratefully sus-
pected of a systematic course of cheating. Sometimes
“April” or “ August,” struck with a sudden bright
idea, comes up to the table, and, with many monkey-like
gestures, makes a close investigation of the scales and
weights; peeping beneath them and looking at them
from all sides, to see by what artful device they have
been made the means of tricking him. He fails to
discover anything ; but retires shaking his woolly head
dubiously, and as far off as ever from believing in the
honesty of his employers. °

Sometimes a little barter is carried on, in quite a
primitive, old-fashioned way, with Dutchmen travel-
ling by in large waggons drawn by sixteen or eighteen
oxen, and often bringing with them very good onions,
oranges, naatjes or mandarines, nuts, dried peaches

212 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

and figs—both of which latter are excellent for stew-
ing,—and many other things, which they are glad to
exchange on the farms for coffee, sugar, etc. This
barter is quite the usual way of doing business in the
Karroo; and so many transactions are carried on with-
out the aid of money, that the latter is hardly required,
and indeed is seldom seen on the farms. If a man or
woman servant comes to do an odd day’s work, or a
passing workman breaks his journey by staying a
couple of days and making himself generally useful,
payment is almost always made in meal, coffee, or
other articles of food, instead of in money. Copper
coins, being universally despised, are not in use; con-
sequently the most trifling service performed, however
badly, by one of the coloured race, must be rewarded
with no smaller sum than threepence, or—to give it its
familiar colonial name—a “ tickey.”

Fowls, of course, with their obligingly convenient
size, are an invaluable boon in the hot weather; and it
is a delightful relief when, with an empty larder and
consequent light heart, free for a while from the cares
and anxieties of the meat, you prolong the respite, and
—putting off till to-morrow the slaying of the next
four-legged incubus—sacrifice in its stead the noisiest
crower, or the most inveterate of the kitchen’s feathered
intruders. To be sure, hurried, as he is, straight from
his last agonies, into the pot or the oven, you cannot
expect him to be very tender; but an attempt at hang-
ing him is too likely to result in the sudden discovery
that he has hung a little too long, and you have learnt

HOW WE FARED, 213

by experience that it is best to eat him at once. And
a dessert-spoonful of vinegar, administered half an hour
before his execution, will always considerably mitigate
his toughness.

Karroo fowls, living a free and active life, are exceed-
ingly agile on their legs, and when their time comes
for paying the debt of nature they are by no means
easy to catch. But Toto took this duty upon himself,
and very jealously asserted his right to perform it.
All we had to do was to point out to him the selected
victim. Then, with the true collie instinct, he would
follow it up, never losing it or making any mistake ;
and, though it might take refuge in the midst of some
twenty or thirty other fowls, Toto would pick it out
from among the crowd without an instant’s hesitation.
And when caught, it was never pounced on roughly,
but just quietly held down by the big, gentle paws,
from which ic would be taken, perfectly unhurt.

How I missed the aid of Toto one day when—he
being far away in Kent, and we living near Tangier—
I was at my wits’ end for a dinner, and trying my
hardest to catch a fowl! It was Ramadan—that
terrible time when everything goes wrong and every-
body is cross—and no wonder; the cruel fast, more
strictly kept in orthodox Morocco than it is in most
Oriental lands, forbidding the votaries of Islam, from
sunrise to sunset, not only to touch food, but even to
moisten their parched lips with water—and this in hot
weather too! No wonder the sunset gun, instead of
being to them the welcome signal for a feast, often

214 ~ HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

finds them so faint and exhausted that they are in no
hurry to -begin eating. And no wonder, too, that
Moorish servants—never very far behind those of South
Africa in stupidity—are at this time a greater trial of
patience than ever. One does not like to be hard on
them, and the minimum of work is given to them; but
everything is done so badly that their services might
almost as well be dispensed with until the fast is over.
Altogether, during this time of woe, the tempers of
employers and employed are about equally tried.
Mohammed, our genius, who at the best of times was
sure to forget one or more important items of the day’s
marketing, had on this occasion omitted just everything
that was necessary to make.a dinner. The bread was
there, to be sure, so too were figs and dates; but, all
having been put loose into the donkey’s panniers and
well jolted along the roughest of roads, the eatables
had become so hopelessly mixed up with a large dab of
native soft soap, bought for the week’s washing, that
they were only disentangled with difficulty, and the
most careful cleansing failed to make them fit for
human food. An earthenware jar of honey had been
bought; but, being unprovided with a stopper, and left
to rol] about in the pannier as it pleased, it had poured
its contents as a libation along the road, and, when com-
placently handed to me by Mohammed, was perfectly
empty. All the non-edible articles of the day’s orders
had been carefully remembered, and stowed well away
from the soap; but of fish, flesh, or fowl there was no
sign, The poor fasting man could not be sent all the

HOW WE FARED, 215

way back to Tangier to make good the deficiencies ; yet
a dinner had to be found somehow for T and for a
gentleman guest, and with the aid of the servants I set
to work to catch one of our own fowls,

But I little knew whatI was attempting. Our
garden, on the steep slopes of Mount Washington, with
its many terraces and walks, flights of rough stone
steps, and tangle of luxuriant vegetation, offered so
many points of vantage to the active birds, that at the
end of half an hour we were all exhausted with running,
breathless and giddy with the heat; while the fowls, on
the contrary, fresher and livelier than ever, seemed
mocking all our efforts to catch them ; and in despair I
took from its hiding-place a little weapon of defence,
provided in view of possible midnight visits from bur-
glarious Moors.

Grasping the revolver in one hand, and with the
other treacherously holding out a sieve of barley, I
stalked one fowl after another in most unsportsman-
like fashion; inviting the guileless creatures to feed,
and then firing at them, sometimes so close that it
seemed as if the intended victim must be blown to
pieces. But no, there he was, when the smoke cleared
away, going off with a triumphant chuckle; wilder
and more wary with each unsuccessful shot.

What was to be done? Time was passing; T
would be coming home hungry by dinner-time, ready
for something better than a vegetarian repast; and
some creature or other—I began to feel that I did not
very much care what—had not only to be caught and

216 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

killed, but also couked. Reckless and desperate, I
began firing indiscriminately, even on my laying hens:
but, gladly though I would have killed the best of them,
not one could I hit. At last ail the hunted birds were
in a state of the wildest excitement; none were in
sight, and an agonized chorus of cackling resounded
from all parts of the garden, as if the largest and most
venomous of snakes had been seen. Flinging down
the revolver in disgust, I meditated the crowning
baseness of snatching the poor old sitting hen from the
eggs on which she had quietly sat throughout the
commotion, when—joyful sight—Mohammed, who had
mysteriously vanished, suddenly reappeared, trium-
phantly holding up by the neck a plucked fowl. It
was but a poor, seragey, spidery-looking thing, all legs
and wings, and with an appearance of having kept
Ramadan no less strictly than the Moorish owners from
whose hut the poor fellow—anxious to retrieve his
fault—had brought it. But it was something off which
to dine; and never was the fattest Christmas turkey
more welcome than was its timely appearance.

The rearing of fowls in South Africa is attended
with endless difficulties and discouragements. Frequent
epidemics of the fatal disease known as “fowl-sickness”
decimate the poultry-yard, which, at the best of times,
and with all care, can never be kept sufficiently stocked
to supply the needs of the hot weather. Every possible
foe of the gallinaceous tribe abounds in the Karroo;
snakes invade the hen-house, and the blackmail which
they levy on the eggs always amounts to what the

HOW WE FARED, 217

Americans call “a large order;” birds of prey of many
different sorts are constantly sailing over head, with
sharp eyes on the look-out for opportunities of plunder;
and jackals, wild cats, lynxes—or, as the Dutch call
them, rootkats—and numerous other four-legged free-
booters pounce at night on those hens foolish enough
to make their nests far from the comparative safety
of the house; the occasional discovery, in some distant
bush, of a collection of empty eggshells and a heap of
drifted feathers proclaiming what has been the fate of
some long-missing hen or turkey.

Altogether, the poultry-keeper’s troubles are con-
siderably multiplied by the surpassing imbecility of the
Karroo hens, which have no idea of taking care of
themselves, and, like the ostriches, stoutly oppose all
efforts made for their own welfare and that of their off-
spring. Their insanely erratic conduct during sitting
causes by far the larger proportion of nests to come
to nothing; and when they have succeeded in hatching
a few chickens, they look as if they did not quite know
what to do with them.

Secretary birds are sometimes taught to be very use-
ful guardians of the poultry-yard, especially against
aerial enemies,—the long-legged, solemn-looking crea-
ture stalking about all day among his feeble-minded
charges, with much consciousness of his own importance.
He is accused of now and then taking toll in the shape
of an occasional egg or young chicken—the latter being
of course bolted, anaconda-fashion; but his depredations
are not extensive, and one tolerates them as one does

218 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

those of the courier who, though himself not entirely
above suspicion, takes good care that his master is
robbed by no one else.

Our secretary, Jacob, whose education had been
neglected in youth, refused to make himself useful as
a protector of the poultry-yard. His character, never
the most amiable, deteriorated rapidly after we brought
him up-country, carefully packed for the long railway
journey; the numerous bandages in which he was
swathed to secure his long, slender legs from breakage
giving him-—but for his protruding, vulture-like head
—the appearance of a gigantic ibis-mummy. Our first
plan of making him trudge on foot along the road with
the Walmer caravan of ostriches was given up, as we
felt sure that, with his already-mentioned “cussedness,”
he would give more trouble to the herds than all the
rest of the troop together, and either get a knock on
the head to settle him, or else escape, never to be heard
of again, At any rate, he would be quite sure not to
arrive at his destination.

Poor Jacob did not flourish in the Karroo, where

kittens were scarce,and where no butcher’scart brought ... .

daily and ample oo for his colossal appetite ; and
an existence in which fresh meat was so rare a luxury
niust have been for him a kind of perpetual Lent.
With much resentment and plainly-expressed disgust
at his reverse of fortune, he found himself obliged, late
in life, to pick up a living for himself, and would
wander dejectedly about the country for miles round, in
search of the fat, succulent locusts, the frogs, small

HOW WE FARED. 219

snakes, lizards, and mice on which he fed. The latter
he caught in a most ingenious manner. Walking up to
a bush wherein he knew a mouse was concealed, he
would strike a violent blow with his wing on one side;
then, as the startled animal ran out in the opposite
direction, Jacob would make a lightning-like pounce,
and bring down his murderous foot with unerring aim.
On the whole he did not fare badly; but of course,
after his luxurious bringing-up among the fleshpots of
Walmer, it was but natural that he should object to
working for a living.

Even in prosperous days he loved tv look ill-used,
and no comic actor could have better represented the
character of an ill-tempered old man nursing a griev-
ance than did the well-fed Jacob croaking under the
windows in mendacious pretence of starvation; but
now his part was so absurdly overacted that it became
a burlesque. Nature at the same time assisted him in
his make-up for the part, and, moulting and tail-less,
with bald head and general out-at-elbows appearance,
he looked indeed the seediest and most disreputable
of old beggars. At the best of times he looked like
a wicked old man, but now—no longer a sleek, well-
clothed old sinner—he seemed to have degenerated
into a ruined gambler, going rapidly to the dogs.
Whenever there was a big rain he would come and
stand in front of the windows, wet through and
shivering ostentatiously, with the water running in
a little stream from the tip of his hooked bill, giving

him the appearance of one of the ugly gargoyles on
15

220 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

an ancient cathedral. Obstinately refusing to come
under cover, or even to keep himself comparatively
dry by squatting under the kraal hedge, he would stand
for hours out in the rain, looking ill-used and woe-
begone; a picture of squalid, unlovely poverty. :

We really pitied the old bird, and regretted our
inability to give him daily the fresh meat which, in
spite of frequent disappointments, he never failed to
claim, noisily and importunately, as his right. He
would come walking excitedly into the kitchen or
bedroom, clamouring, with all the persistence of
Shylock, for his pound of flesh; or would run after
Wells as the latter went to chop wood, knocking
against his legs, getting in his way to attract attention,
and keeping up his horrible clock-work noise, till we
wondered that that most patient and even-tempered
of men, with the hatchet so handy, was not provoked
into chopping off his head.

At last a long drought set in, and poor Jacob came
still further down in the world; for, as the ground
hardened, and vegetation dried up, the “mice and rats
and such small deer” of the veldé became more scarce,
and he had to travel longer distances in search of
his prey, We did all we could for him, and kept
quite a battery of mousetraps constantly set for his
benefit ; but, compared with his enormous demands,
all we could give him was but as a drop in the ocean, and
we felt that he despised us for our meanness. He grew
daily more morose, and would vent his ill-humour by
picking quarrels with the dogs and other creatures

HOW WE FARED, 221

about the place, especially with a pretty little duyker
antelope. This gentle and timid little favourite—a
short-lived pet, which, wandering one day too far from
home, was shot by a Boer in mistake for a wild animal
—was several times attacked so savagely by the
vengeful Jacob, that, if Wells had not beaten off the
assailant, the little buck would have been killed. For-
tunately Jacob, when excited, always made such a
horrible noise, that we could hear when a battle was
going on, and rush to the rescue. As the drought
continued Jacob took to wandering further and further
afield, coming to the house only on rare occasions,
until at last he beca:yne almost like a wild bird; and
we have little doubt that these roving propensities, at
a time when water was only to be found at the few-
and-far-between homesteads, led at last to the poor old
fellow’s death from thirst—a sad end for one of the
most comical, if not the best-tempered of our pets.
Game, of course, forms a very welcome break in the
monotony of constant goat and mutton. The antelopes,
though by no means plentiful, are all excellent eating,
and afford good sport. The graceful springbok, one
of the most common, is capable of becoming very
tame; and, with its slender limbs and bright-coloured,
variegated coat, it is, but for its rather goat-like face,
one of the prettiest of pet animals, On a large neigh-
bouring farm the springbok were preserved, and now
and then the somewhat even tenour of Karroo existence
would be enlivened by a hunt, sometimes of several
days’ duration, The Queen’s birthday is a favourite

222 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

occasion for these festive gatherings; and from far and
wide, some from. distances of two or three days’
journey, travelling on horseback or in roomy American
spiders and carts capable of accommodating large
family parties, visitors arrive in rapid succession, till
the house—which at these times seems endowed with
even more than the usual elasticity of the hospitable
colonial homes—appears like some large hotel over-
flowing with guests. In the extensive plains surround-
ing the house the chase goes on merrily throughout
the whole day; many of the hunted bucks being
observable from the verandah as they speed lightly
along, with a bounding motion suggestive of india-
rubber balls, and with the sunlight flashing upon the
ridge of long white bristles along the back, invisible
when the animal is in repose, but erected when it is
startled.

In the evening the trophies of the battue, sometimes
amounting to the number of thirty, are laid side by side
in close ranks upon the ground in front of the house,
forming a noble display. The day’s adventures are re-
counted, with much chaffing of the by no means few
who have been bucked off or who have otherwise come
to grief; T on one occasion bearing off the palm as
the butt of the most pitiless jokes, his horse, declining
the superadded weight of a fine buck, having deposited
him on his head, in which acrobatic posture he is re-
ported to have remained standing long enough to give
rise to much speculation among the onlookers as to
whether he intended finally to land on face or back.

HOW WE FARED., 223

By-and-by the silence of the veldt is further broken
Ly the unaccustomed sound of fireworks, and of loud
cheers for the Queen from the stout lungs of her lieges
beneath the Southern Cross; then come some capital
theatricals and a dance, the latter prolonged a good way
into the small hours of the morning. There are no
better dancers anywhere than the Cape colonists; they
are of course passionately fond of the art in which
they so much excel; and thus, when a large and merry
party have collected—not without considerable diffi-
culties, and at the cost of the longest and roughest of
journeys—they naturally like to keep it up as long as
possible, and it is by no means an uncommon thing on
these occasions for people not to go to bed at all, but
for the morning sun, peeping in under the vines of the
verandah, to find the dance still in full swing.

The Cape negroes, too, are all born dancers; and it
needs but a few notes scraped on a fiddle or wheezed
on an asthmatic accordeon to set a whole company of
even the roughest and most uncouth Hottentots waltz-
ing in perfect time, and in a quiet and almost graceful
manner, strangely out of keeping with their ungainly
forms.

Rarest among the antelopes is the klipspringer,*
which is called the chamois of South Africa, and which,
both in appearance and habits, closely resembles the
Alpine animal. Its flesh, which is short and dark, with
a flavour very like that of duck, is by far the best of
all the venison; and its pretty coat isa marvel of soft-

* Oreotragus saltutriz.

224 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

ness and lightness, each hair being a wide tube as thick
as a hedgehog’s bristle, but soft as a feather. In spite
of its light weight, this curious coat is wonderfully
thick and durable, and saddle-cloths made from it are
simply perfection.

A little klipspringer was brought to us, so young that
for the first few weeks it was fed with milk from a
baby’s bottle. It soon grew tame, and it was very
pretty to see the miniature chamois trotting confidingly
about the house, always on the extreme tips of those
natural alpcnstocks, its little pointed feet. These tiny
ferules, all four of which would have stood together on
a penny-piece, were evidently capable of giving a firm
foothold even in the most impossible places, This little
creature was one of our unlucky pets—by far the most
numerous class in the collection—and our hope of
taking him to England, where he would have enjoyed
the proud distinction of being the first of his kind ever
imported, was doomed to disappointment. Whether it
is really the fact, as one is always told in South Africa,
that this buck cannot live in captivity, or whether an
inveterate habit of eating the contents of the waste-
paper basket, with an impartial relish for printed and
written matter, shortened the life of our specimen, I
do not know; but rapid consumption set in, and the
pathetic, almost human attacks of coughing were so
distressing to witness that it was a relief when the
poor little patient succumbed.

Then, also among the smaller antelopes, there are the
duyker and stenbok. Both these pretty little bucks

HOW WE FARED, 225

make forms like hares, and the stenbok, a wee thing
very little larger than a hare, is not unlike that animal
in flavour.

As for “poor Wat” himself, the uncanny reputation
which in all lands he seems so unjustly to have acquired
is here intensified; and among Boers, Kaffirs, and
Hottentots he is the object of so superstitious a dread
that none will venture to eat him. His inoffensive
little body is firmly believed to be tenanted by the
spirits of dead-and-gone relatives and friends; and even
Phillis, by no means a dainty feeder—to whom a good
epidemic of fowl-sickness is a welcome harvest, and the
sudden and fatal apoplectic fit of the fattest turkey the
occasion of a right royal feast and long-remembered red-
letter day,—is indignant and insulted if you offer her
what is left of a particularly delicious jugged hare. To
have lent a hand in cooking the unholy beast was
sacrilege enough, but there her not over-sensitive con-
science draws the line. Most uncanny of all the hares
is the springhuas. This creature, with dispropor-
tionately long hind-legs and kangaroo-like mode of pro-
gression, is never seen in the daytime, and can only be
shot on moonlight nights.

The best game birds of the Karroo are those of the
bustard tribe. Of the great bustard, or paauw, there
are two kinds; one, a gigantic bird, sometimes weighing
as much as seventy pounds. In hunting the paauw—
as in stalking the wily mosquito—your first and
special care must be not to let the object of your chase
see you looking at him. With well-acted unconscious-

226 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

ness, and eyes carefully turned in any direction but
towards the spot where the paauw squats in the grass,
you ride round and round him in an ever-lessening circle,
until you get within range. Then you jump off, make
a run at him, and fire.

A smaller bustard, with beautifully-variegated plum-
age, is about the size of a large fowl. His Dutch name
of knorhaan—which may be translated “ scolding cock,”
or “growling fowl”—is very justly bestowed on him to
express his exceeding noisiness, and I do not think that
throughout the whole length and breadth of the bird
kingdom there exists such another chatterer. What
a start he gives you sometimes when, on a brisk ride or
drive through the veldé, you approach his hiding-place,
and suddenly, before you have had time to see his
slender dark neck and head peering out above the low
bush, he springs up with a deafening clamour, as of a
dozen birds instead of one; and, uuless silenced by a shot,
he continues his harsh, discordant noise, apparently
without once stopping for breath, until his swift wings
have borne him far away out of hearing. A whole
chorus of blackbirds, suddenly disturbed from revels
among ripe fruit, would be nothing in comparison with
him.

The quaint, old-fashioned-looking little dikkop,
smallest of the bustard tribe, is, in the opimion of
epicures, the best of all. In the bustards the position
of the white and dark meat is reversed, the flesh being
dark on the breast and white on the legs. They possess
certain feathers which are invaluable to the makers of
tlies for fishing.

HOW WE FARED. 227

Of partridges there are two kinds, the red-wing and
grey-wing, the latter being found only on the moun-
tains. The beautiful little “Namaqua partridges,”
which come in flights, are in reality a kind of grouse.
It is a pretty sight when, at sundown, these neatest and
most delicately-plumaged of little birds collect in large
numbers to drink at the dams,

Of some of our queer dishes, such as consomme
@autruche and the mock-turtle afforded by the gigan-
tic tortoises of the veldt, I have already spoken. Now
and then, too, when a porcupine was killed, we would
follow the example of the Algerian Arabs, and dine
sumptuously off its flesh, which was not unlike English
pork with extra-good crackling.

A baby porcupine, which was taken alive and un-
hurt, was for some weeks an amusing addition to the
menagerie; and many were our regrets when—just as
he was getting tame and friendly—he fell a victim to
an unexpected cold night, against which, in his little
box out of doors, we had ignorantly left him insufti-
ciently protected. At first his temper, which was
decidedly of the kind usually described as “short,”
gave us much amusement; and, when irritated by our
approach, he would stamp his little feet, wheel round
impetuously, and come charging at us backwards, with
all his quills erect, and an absurd expression of ener-
getic pugnacity depicted, not only on his small, snub-
nosed countenance, but throughout the whole of his
bristling body.

Unfortunately, “the pig with the sticks on his back,”

228 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

as the Kaffirs call the porcupine, is the worst of
gardeners; and provoking indeed is the devastation
wrought by his omnivorous appetite among potatoes,
carrots, parsley, pumpkins, water-melons, and indeed
all other plants which, in our most thankless of kitchen
gardens, are grown and irrigated with such infinite
toil and difficulty.

The crop which best repays cultivation in that arid
soil is Indian corn. This most wholesome and nourish-
ing food is much more suitable for hot climates than
oatmeal, as it possesses none of the heating properties
of the latter; and, although in one form or another it
is a standing dish at nearly every meal in a Karroo
house, one never tires of it. The nicest way of pre-
paring it is in the form called “stamped mealies.” The
ripe yellow grains of the Indian corn are moistened
and placed in a large and massive wooden mortar,
generally consisting of the stump of a tree hollowed
out. (The centre of an old waggon-wheel did duty
very effectually as our mealie-stamper.) Then, with a
heavy wooden pestle, they are bruised just sufficiently
to remove the yellow husks, though not enough to
break up the corn itself, as in the case of the American
hominy. After a long and gentle boiling the mealies
are as tender as young peas, and it is difficult for a
stranger to believe that they have not been cooked in
milk.

It would be a good thing if those who make it their
study to provide cheap and nourishing food for the
starving poor of London and other over-populated

HOW WE FARED, 229

towns would try stamped mealies. The small cost of
the Indian corn and the simple and easy manner of its
preparation would enable it to be supplied in large
quantities; and the really excellent dish, if it once
became known in England, could not fail to be popular.
In some parts of South Africa the natives live almost
entirely on Indian corn, especially the Zulus, than
whom no finer race of men could be found.

If, among all the different competitions now set on
foot, there were one for bread-makers of all countries,
surely the Dutchwomen of the Karroo would bear
away the prize for their delicious whole-meal bread,
leavened with sour dough and baked in large earthen-
ware pots. It is beautifully sweet and light; and as
Phillis’s bread—besides containing almost as plentiful
a sprinkling of flies as there are currants in a penny
bun—is in every way more often a failure than a
success, it is as well for the lady settler promptly on
arrival to take a lesson from some neighbouring vroww,
and herself to undertake the bread-making.

While on the subject of whole-meal bread, why is it
that in England the nutritious, flinty part of the grain
is almost invariably taken out and made into macaroni
or used for other purposes, while the bread is made of
flour from which all the goodness has been refined
away? If whole-meal bread is ordered of the English
baker, he throws a handful of bran into this same
flour; and the brown loaf looks tempting enough, but
both it and the white one are alike tasteless and
insipid, and destitute of nutritious qualities. What is

230 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

really wanted for good bread is just simply the entire
contents of the grain, as nature, who after all knows
best, has given it to us.

Better than sour dough, yeast, and all the baking-
powders in the world is a preparation made by the
Kaffir women from a curious and rather rare little
plant which grows in the Karroo. This plant is almost
all root, the small portion which peeps above the
ground consisting only of a few tight clusters of small,
shiny knobs, of a dull leaden colour. There is nothing
like it for making bread rise ; but it is most difficult
to get any of it, as the Kaffir women, besides being
too lazy to relish the work of preparing it, which is a
long and tedious business, make a mystery and a secret
of it: no servant will own to understanding it, and
somehow one never gets to see the whole: process, and
is only shown certain stages of it, one of which con-
sists in the hanging up of the substance for a while in
a bag exposed to the air, during which time it increases
enormously in bulk, ina manner which seems almost
miraculous.

Butter being so rare a luxury in the Karroo, a
number of different substances have to be pressed into
the service during long droughts to supply its place,
such as lard, dripping, ete., and, for the table, the fat
from the huge tails of sheep somewhat resembling
those of Syria, though not, like the latter, kindly pro-
vided with little carts on which to drag the cumbersome
weight. English jams, of course, like all other im-
ported provisions, are ruinously expensive; and it is a

HOW WE FARED. 231

pity that the Natal preserves, plentiful as are both
frpit and sugar in that most fertile of lands, are hardly
less extravagant in price. But very good home-made
jams can be obtained from the Cape gooseberry—a kind
of small tomato, enclosed in a loose, crackling bag much
too large for it; also from priembesjes (pronounced
“primbessies”), a delicious wild fruit which grows on
small trees along the lower slopes of the mountains.
These trees only bear biennially ; and, as if exhausted
by the lavish profusion of fruit yielded each alternate
season, produce nothing in the intermediate year. The
pretty fruit,resembling a small, semi-transparent cherry,.
is at first completely enclosed in such a tight-fitting case
that it looks like a soft, velvety green ball. As the fruit
ripens this green covering divides in half, and gradually
opens wider and wider, disclosing the vivid scarlet
within. Amid the prevailing stiffness and sombreness of
Karroo vegetation the pretty, rounded outline of these
trees, and their bright, glossy, dark foliage—forming
an effective background for the jewel-like fruit as it
peeps from the delicate pale-green cases in all different
stages of expansion—afford a pleasing contrast.

In search of priembesjes we made many delightful
expeditions on horseback to the foot of the mountains ;
sitting in our saddles close to the trees and picking
from our animals’ backs, T

occasionally standing
up like a circus-rider to reach the higher boughs. Our
horses became quite accustomed to the work, and,
moving into the exact spot desired, would stand motion-
less as long as we chose while we filled our baskets.

232 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

The fruit is slightly acid and very refreshing; and the
preserve, not unlike cherry jam, well repays the trouble
of making, which is considerable, the enormous stones
being quite out of proportion to the size of the fruit,
and very difficult to separate from the pulp. Even
these stones, however, possess their good qualities, and
contain a delicate little kernel, as nice a nut as you
could wish to eat, from which an excellent oil can be
pressed. Then, too,—no small recommendation in the
eyes of ladies,—they make the most delightful beads,
being just soft enough to pierce with a good strong
needle, though not so soft as to shrivel up afterwards.
They are of all different shades of rich brown, and,
when threaded into necklaces, remind one of the old
Arab rosaries in Cairo, made from the “ Mecca seeds,”
and rubbed to a brilliant polish by devout Moham-
medan thumbs. Jam, beads, oil, and nuts! Surely a
tree with such numerous and varied ways of making
itself useful to humanity seems quite worthy to have
figured in the pages of “The Swiss Family Robinson.”

The wild honey of the Karroo is generally very
good, though some is occasionally found to which un-
wholesome flowers have imparted their evil qualities.
If, for instance, “ where the bee sucks” there is much
euphorbia-blossom, the honey is pungent and burns the
tongue. Sometimes it is even poisonous.

A most useful volunteer assistant in the taking of
bees’ nests is the honey-bird, an insignificant-looking
little brown fellow who seems possessed of an almost
uncanny amount of intelligence. Well does he know

HOW WE FARED, 233

that old tree or that hole in the ground where there is
a goodly store of the sweet food into which he is long-
ing to plunge his bill; but, unfortunately, he cannot
get it out for himself, and must needs call in the aid
of a human ally to take the nest. So he wanders hither
and thither, and, hailing the first person he meets, flies
close up to him, chirping and calling loudly to attract
attention, and behaving altogether in such a confidingly
familiar and impudent manner that strangers unaccus-
tomed to his ways would take him for a tame bird
escaped from his cage. If you refuse to follow him he
gets very angry, and shows his impatience by flying
backwards and forwards, chirping excitedly; but if
his guidance is accepted—although he may give’ you a
very lony, rough walk—he will lead you without fail
to the nest.

As soon as the spot is reached he changes his note ;
and, while his featherless partner secures the prize, he
sits close by, watching the proceedings with intense
interest, and waiting for his share of the plunder. The
natives are always superstitiously careful to leave him
a liberal portion; for they credit him with a very
vindictive disposition, and say that if any one is base
enough to refuse him his well-earned reward, he will
revenge himself on the next person he meets, however
innocent the latter may be, and, under pretence of
taking him to a bees’ nest, will lure him to the lair of
a leopard, the hole of a venomous snake, or some other
equally undesirable spot.

One day T

, on a long homeward ride, was way-

234 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

laid by one of these birds, which, taking him under his
protection in the usual business-like and patronizing
manner, led him by a most roundabout route, and at
last, with many fussy demonstrations, conducted him
triumphantly to our own beehive, close to the house.
Then he perched on a little bush from whence he could
contemplate the bees; and T—— called me out to look
at him as he sat chirping, immensely contented with
himself, and scolding us loudly for our neglect of duty.

Among the numerous enemies of bees the pretty bird
called the bee-eater is one of the most destructive ; and
wherever there is a hive or a nest several of these birds
are almost sure to be seen, darting about swiftly and
catching the poor little insects on the wing. A large
kind of hornet is also continually on the watch for
bees, which he slays apparently out of pure spite; and
last, though by no means least, a horrid little red
scorpion-like creature invades the hive itself, killing
many of the inmates.

A large moth resembling the death’s-head often
takes up its abode in bees’ nests, betraying its pre-
sence by a peculiar plaintive sound, and apparently
living in a perfectly friendly and peaceful manner with
its hosts, The natives, however, and indeed also many
of the colonists, stand in great awe of it, as they
imagine it to be possessed of-a most deadly sting.
Throughout the whole country one hears accounts of
men, oxen, etc., being killed by this terrible moth; and
T , wishing to investigate the matter and find out
whether there were any truth in the tale, sent several

HOW WE FARED. 235

specimens to England, where, on examination by an
authority on entomology, gi all proved to be desti-
tute of stings.

You never get a bad cup ‘of coffee in South Africa.
That unholy ingredient, chicory, with which people in
England persist in making their coffee undrinkable, is
never used, and all, even on the roughest of farms,
seem to understand the secret of preparing good coffee,
which, after all, needs but the observance of a very
simple rule; 7.¢., never to roast or grind more at a time
than is required for immediate use. The Dutch vroww’s
coffee would be perfection if she would only refrain
from making it the medium by which to express the
depth of her kindly feelings towards her guests, and
turning it to a sickly syrup by adding sugar in the
proportion of Falstaff’s “intolerable deal of sack.”
And Phillis, however hopelessly ignorant she may be
on all other points of cookery, prepares the huge bowl
of café au lait, which, in accordance with colonial
custom, she brings to your bedside in the early morn-
ing, in a manner which partially atones for her multi-
tude of sins.

Yet people at home do not seem to realize that
coffee, if kept even for a little time after it is roasted,
and—worse still—after it is ground, completely loses
its flavour. As a rule they buy it ready ground, in
large quantities, and keep it for weeks in the house;
and under such circumstances it is no wonder that
even in the best hotels the coffee is not fit to drink,

and that too often, but for the only flavour left in it
16

236 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

—that of the acrid chicory with which it has been
bountifully doctored—it might be taken for weak tea.
And yet there is no better“ pick-me-up” after a long walk
or tiring day’s work, nothing more warming and com-
forting on a cold day, than a cup of really good coffee.
Such, for instance, as you get in any of the numerous
Arab cafés in Algiers; a tiny cup of which, hardly
larger than an egg-cup, does you more good than a
glass of port wine. Indeed, wherever coffee is really
well made—as in France and Spain—it does exten-
sively take the place of intoxicating drinks; and it
would be a good thing if in England, and especially
among our poorer classes, this splendidly nutritious
substance—food no less than drink—were as much
usedasitisabroad. The coffee-house where well-made,
unadulterated coffee might be obtained would be a
formidable rival to the gin-palace. As it is, however,
the art of making coffee—if ever possessed at all in
England—has been so completely lost that the increas-
ing disuse of the beverage is no matter of surprise.
Angora milk is excellent with coffee, but, though abun-
dant at times, it is hardly to be obtained at all during
droughts; and for months you have to be contented
with Swiss milk. The Boers and Kaffirs think fresh,
sweet milk very unwholesome; a Dutchwoman never
gives her child anything but sour milk to drink, and
the Kaffirs always keep their milk in large gourds
which have the property of rapidly turning it sour.

CHAPTER XII.
KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES.

Leopard drowned in a well—Baboons—Egyptian sacred animals on Cape
farms — ‘‘ Adonis” — A humiliating retreat—A baby baboon--
Clever tricks performed by baboons—Adonis as a Voorlooper—A
four-handed pointsman—Sarah—A baboon at the Diamond Fields
—Adonis’s shower-bath—His love of stimulants—His revengeful
disposition—Pelops the dog-headed —Horus — Aasvogels — Goat-
sucker—The butcher-bird’s larder—Nest of the golden oriole—
The kapok bird—Snakes in houses—A puff-adder under a pillow
—Puff-adder most dangerous of Cape snakes—Cobras—Schaap-
sticker—Ugly house-lizards—Dassie-adder—The dassie the coney
of Scripture—Stung by a scorpion—Fight between tarantula and
centipede—Destructive ants—The Aardvaark, or ant-bear—Igno-
minious flight of a sentry — Ant-lion — Walking-leaves — The
Hottentot god—A mantis at a picnic.

ALTHOUGH the elephant and lion are now no longer
found in the Karroo, there still remain a good number
of leopards, or, as the colonists, in calm defiance of
natural history, persist in calling them, “tigers.” These
animals, by the way, seem fated at both ends of the
Dark Continent to be the victims of a misnomer, and
in Algeria rejoice in the name of panthére. Though
the South African leopards are now following the
example of the larger and more formidable game, and
gradually retreating before the advance of man, it is not

238 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

many years since three or four of them might be seen
drinking together at night from the dam close to the
Dutch house now transformed into the homestead of
Swaylands. Even now, in the hills overlooking the
Karroo, there are more of them about than the farmer
likes; and sheep, calves, colts and young ostriches are
occasionally killed by them.

One day, riding up to a well in an out-of-the-way
part of the farm, we found that a magnificent full-grown
leopard had fallen in and drowned himself. There he
was, floating on the surface of the water only five feet
below where we stood ; his large body extended across
the whole diameter of the well, and on the steep but
rough and unbricked sides of the latter we could see
the traces of his desperate though unavailing struggles
to climb out. Unfortunately, the weather being very
hot, his beautiful skin was already spoilt ; and we rode
home regretting the lovely rug “off our own farm,”
which we might have displayed to admiring friends at
home if we had but found him one day earlier.

A wounded leopard is a very dangerous customer.
One of our neighbours, an old hunter, bears many scars
in remembrance of severe injuries received long ago in
following up one of these animals which he had shot.
The encounter was a terrible one, nearly costing the
colonist his life.

Next to the leopard in ferocity comes the baboon.
He is a big, deep-voiced, sturdy fellow ; his short, gruff
bark is as dog-like as his head, and there is no doubt
that he is identical with the dog-headed ape of ancient

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES. 239

Egypt. Indeed, all the sacred animals and birds of
Egyptian mythology, and many of the other creatures
which are depicted in so life-like a manner on the walls
of Nile temples and tombs, are to be found at this day
in South Africa. ‘Anubis the jackal; the grey ibis,
now extinct in Egypt, but common enough in the Cape
Colony, and—audacious insult to that learned god to
whom he was sacred—irreverently and absurdly named
by the colonials “ oddida;” the hawk Horus, with just
the same plump little body, round baby-face, and deli-
cately-tinted plumage of softest French grey and white
which you see again and again in those comical, toy-
like little wooden images in the museum at Cairo;
the wild geese, with the identical curious markings of
those which, in the oldest picture in the world, may be
seen in that same museum; the scarab, rolling his un-
wieldy ball with Atlas-like efforts ;—all these are at
home on the Karroo farms.

Cynocephalus, indeed, was very much more at home
at Swaylands than we liked, and would often frighten
the ostriches into a wild state of panic, with the usual
inevitable result of broken legs. On mountain excur-
sions you frequently hear his surly bark, and some-
times see him looking out defiantly at you from behind
rock or bush, where possibly you have disturbed him
in the midst of an exciting lizard-hunt, or careful
investigation of loose stones in search of the centi-
pedes, scorpions and beetles hidden beneath. These
creatures, uninviting though they appear to us, are
among his favourite dainties, and he catches them with

240 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

wonderful dexterity. In the silence of night his voice
is so distinctly audible from the homestead that you
would imagine him to be close by, though in reality he
is far off in one of the kloofs of the mountains. One
night, as we strolled up and down near the house,
enjoying the bright moonlight, a loud chorus of distant
baboons to which we were listening was suddenly in-
terrupted, evidently by the spring of a hungry leopard,
the moment's silence being followed by- the agonized
and prolonged yells of the victim.

Now and then Cynocephalus, or, as the Boers ironi-
cally call him, “Adonis,” gets too troublesome, and war
has to be carried into his camp. Of no avail against
him are those neat little strychnine pills, enclosed in
tempting pieces of fat, by means of which . Anubis is
so successfully sent to his account. No vegetable
poison has the slightest effect on the baboon’s iron
constitution, and indeed, if there exists any poison at
all capable of killing him, it is quite certain that with
his superior intelligence he would be far too artful to
take it; and when the fiat for his destruction has gone
forth a well-organized attack has to be made on him
with dogs and guns. He can show fight, too, and the
dogs must be well trained and have the safety of
numbers to enable them to face him; for in fighting
he has the immense advantage of hands, with which
he seizes a dog and holds him fast while he inflicts a
fatal bite through the loins. Indeed, for either dog or
man, coming to close quarters with Adonis is no trifling
matter.

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES. 241

One of our friends, travelling on horseback, came
upon a number of baboons sitting in solemn parliament
on some rocks. He cantered towards them, anticipat-
ing the fun of seeing the ungainly beasts take to their
heels in grotesque panic; but was somewhat taken
aback on finding that—far from being intimidated by
his approach—they refused to move, and sat waiting
for him, regarding him the while with ominous calm-
ness. The canter subsided into a trot, and the trot
into a sedate walk—and still they sat there; and so
defiant was the expression on each ugly face that at
last the intruder thought it wisest to turn back and
ride ignominiously away.

A Dutch boy—one of a family temporarily camp-
ing in their own waggon on the farm, and employed
by T——,, rambling one day in one of the far-off
kloofs of the mountains, came near the haunt of a
party of baboons. Though an occasional bark broke
the stillness, only one of the animals was in sight, and
that a little one, probably left alone for a while during
the mother’s search for food. With the baby baboon
in his arms the boy was soon speeding at his best pace
down the mountain; and, if fortune had but favoured
his enterprise as it deserved, what a delightful “new
chum” would that day have been added to our collec-
tion of animals! But too soon the whole troop of
baboons, missing their youngest hope, were in full
pursuit of the robber, on whom they gained so rapidly,
and with gestures so -unmistakeably portending mis-
chief, that young Piet was only too glad to drop his
prize and run for his life.

242 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

The baboon stands in no awe of women; he seems
quite aware of their inferiority, in point of strength and
courage, to the sterner sex, and despises them accord-
ingly. At one place near Graaff-Reinet the women
never dared to go and fetch water unless accompanied
by men; for the baboons, which were very numerous,
would always chase and threaten any daughter of Eve
who ventured, without masculine escort, near their
haunts.

Baboons captured in babyhood and brought up in
human society are capable of becoming extremely tame.
Like all other very intelligent animals, they vary muchi
in disposition, a docile and tractable one soon learning
to perform many clever tricks, and being an amusing
companion, though too often a mischievous one. A
gentleman at Willowmore owned two large, splendidly-
trained performing baboons, which would have made
the fortune of any circus-proprietor. They would to-
gether enact a series of complicated tricks, each going
through his allotted part without a mistake. Both
were most attentive and obedient to orders, and never
by any chance would “Joe” so far forget his duty as to
respond to the command given to “Jim,” or vice versd.

Occasionally, too, Adonis—who cannot, even by his
best friends, be called ornamental—is taught to make
himself useful; he has in several instances been seen
filling the post of voorlooper to the waggons of travel-
ling Boers, acquitting himself on the whole quite as
creditably as his Hottentot fellow-servants. And at
one railway station in the colony a baboon was for a. long

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES. 243

time employed to work the points. The man in charge
of the latter—having in a railway accident lost one
arm and part of the remaining hand—had taught the
ape to move the levers, This he did most cleverly with
three of his powerful hands, using one of the hinder
ones; and the fact of the novel pointsman retaining his
situation makes it evident that his duties were satisfac-
torily performed.

On the occasion of a raid with dogs and guns on the
baboons infesting a friend’s farm, one of the animals
killed was the mother of a very young infant. When
the captors came up to the spot they found the poor
little creature crying piteously as it clasped the trunk
of the tree beneath which lay its dead parent. They
took it home, and our friend, a great lover of animals,
was successful in rearing it. “Sarah,” a gentle, amiable
character, soon became a great favourite, and her
comical ways were a source of constant amusement to
her human friends. At the word of command she
would stand erect, with her arms behind her, and her
mouth wide open to catch the pieces of potato, etc.,
which were thrown into it; and when told to open
“wider! wider!” she would distend her jaws almost
to the point of breaking.

Of course she was occasionally—what member of the
ape tribe is not ?—the victim of practical jokes. One
day her favourite dish, pumpkin, was presented to her,
and, all-unconscious of the treachery which lurked
within, she applied herself with gusto to her dinner,
which, unlike most of her tribe, she always preferred to

244 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

eat direct from the dish without the intervention of her
fingers. Alas! between two of those succulent slices
of pumpkin cruel hands had spread a thick layer of
mustard; and poor Sarah, eating greedily, soon ex-
perienced direful results on tongue, palate, throat, and
eyes. She knew at once that she had been tricked;
and never were contempt and indignation better ex-
pressed than by the lordly manner in which she kicked
away the dish with all its remaining contents. After
which she retired, much offended, to her bed, from
whence she did not emerge for a long time.

On another occasion poor Sarah was made the sub-
ject of a still more unkind practical joke. She dearly
loved sweets, which were often given to her wrapped
up in a multitude of papers, one inside the other. It
was amusing to watch the patient and deliberate
manner in which she would unfold each paper in turn,
taking the greatest care never to tear one, and proceed-
ing with all the caution of a good Mohammedan
fearful of inadvertently injuring a portion of the Koran.
This time, instead of the expected tit-bit, a dead night-
adder was wrapped up and presented. When she
unfolded the innermost paper, and the snake slipped
out, with a horrid writhe, across her hand, Sarah
quietly sank backwards and fainted away, her lips
turning perfectly white. By dint of throwing water
over her, chafing her hands, and bathing her lips with
brandy, she was revived from her swoon, though not
without some difficulty.

Sarah has now been for a long time the inmate of an

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES. 245

English country rectory, where, let us hope, no unfeel-
ing jokes at her expense embitter her declining years,

Of a far less docile disposition than Sarah was a
large baboon kept by T at the Diamond Fields.
The incessant damage wrought by this creature among
his master’s property and that of neighbours, and the
frequent doctors’ bills of which he was the occasion,
made him rather an expensive pet. He was kept
chained up, but would now and then break loose, on
which occasions he never failed to make an excellent
use of his opportunities and enjoy as good a “time”
as possible before Nemesis overtook him in the form of
recapture and well-deserved chastisement.

One day, for instance, T , on returning to his tent,
was considerably surprised to find his bed occupied
by Mr. Adonis, who, after getting into the shower-
bath, pulling the string, and receiving the consequent
ducking, had retired in a drenched and dripping con-
dition to the blankets, within which he had comfortably
ensconced himself, and from whence he gazel im-
pudently at his master. He no doubt thought that
he had well earned the luxuries of bath and bed by
his busy morning’s work among the contents of T——'s
canvas house; and indeed that once cosy little abode
now offered to the owner’s eye a very good represen-
tation of chaos on a small scale. A bottle of acid, in
which were a number of diamonds, had been thrown
outside and the contents scattered in the sand ; T: "5
watch had been pulled to pieces and flung through the
window; and altogether every conceivable piece of

246 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

mischief had been done. On attempting to secure and
tie up the offender, T received a severe bite through
the leg; on which, naturally irate, he seized his gun,
and capital punishment would then and there have
been inflicted but for the discovery that the wily
Adonis had balked retributive justice by carefully
pulling every cartridge to pieces,

Among the numerous vices of this baboon was an
incorrigible addiction to stimulants; and after indulg-
ing in his favourite drink—gin and ginger-beer—he
might very profitably have been displayed on the plat-
form of a temperance lecturer, as the Spartans exhibited
their helots, in illustration of the evils of drunkenness.
The manner in which, after a drop too much, he in-
variably persisted in walking upright was unpleasantly
suggestive of drunken humanity; so too was his urgent
need of soda-water to allay the parched condition of
his mouth on the following morning. He would draw
the cork with his strong teeth, holding the bottle close
to his lips, and taking the greatest care to lose none
of the refreshing gas.

He could throw stones with the unerring aim of a
schoolboy ; and, being of a revengeful disposition, and
possessed of a wonderful memory, he never failed to
requite any insult or injury received. Once a Zulu
offended him by striking him with a stick. A long
time passed, and then one day the man, who had quite
forgotten all about it, came within reach of the baboon’s
tether, and—blissfully ignorant of the vengeful feelings
lurking in the breast of the quadrumane—offered him

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES. 247

something to eat. But Adonis, who had not forgotten,
and who was only too glad to pay off old scores,
caught the man by the hand, and, drawing him towards
him, bit and punished him severely.

Here is another tale of revenge, in which the poor
ape played but a passive part in the hands of the
“superior” animal. A colonist, having killed a baboon,
and owing several of his neighbours a long-standing
grudge, bethought him of a truly fiendish manner of
revenging himself. Though it is unlikely that he had
ever read of Tantalus, he proceeded somewhat after that
classical example, and, cutting up the baboon, made him
into a stew, in which savoury disguise he served him
up as the piéce de résistance at a dinner to which all
the obnoxious neighbours were bidden. The dish
proved a delicious one, and all the visitors ate of Pelops
Cynocephalus with great relish. The tableau may be
imagined when, at the end of the banquet, the host told
his guests what they had eaten.

It must require considerable hardness of heart to kill
a baboon; for the creature is so horribly and uncannily
human-looking, and, when wounded, cries in a pathetic
manner which must appeal to all but the most callous
of consciences. A hunter once told T that he felt
like a murderer after shooting one of them, and seeing
how in its dying agonies it pressed one finger upon the
hole made by the bullet; crying like a child as it fixed
its eyes on him with piteous looks of reproach.

Although the miniature Zoo at Swaylands never
boasted of a tame cynocephalus, we numbered among

248 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

our feathered friends one of the gods of ancient Egypt
in the shape of as tiny and chubby a little Horus as
ever sat for his portrait to the sculptors of Phil or
Thebes. He was but a wee thing, about the size of a
wild dove, but possessed an amount of intelligence
which made him one of the most interesting even
among Cape pets. Sad to say, the poor little fellow
was minus one wing. T——, noticing him one day
flying near the house, and not knowing what bird he
was, brought him down with a small rifle bullet. The
shot passed through the wing, so completely smashing
it that the only thing we could do was to take it off
close to the body. We tied it up at once and stopped
the bleeding, the plucky little patient never uttering a
sound, though his jewel-like eyes seemed really to blaze
with anger. They were the most wonderful eyes
imaginable, almost owl-like in size and roundness, and of
a lovely red with an orange tinge. A ruby with a candle
behind it is what I imagine would come nearest to them
in colour. The plumage of Horus, instead of being
speckled and barred with different shades of brown
like that of the falcons one is accustomed to see, was
of the loveliest silver-grey, darkest on the back and
wing, and shading off gradually into very pale grey
on the head, and into purest white on the breast and
beneath the body ; the breast feathers being soft and
fluffy, like eider-down. The legs and feet were bright
yellow, the bill dark grey, edged with yellow, and a
circle of dark feathers round the eyes, drawn off into
a long line at each side, gave a sphinx-like appearance

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES, 249

to the wise-looking little head. Altogether, Horus was
one of the most beautiful little birds we have seen.
We took it for granted that he was the sacred falcon;
and it will be a disappointment to us if, one day, some
learned ornithologist tells us we were quite wrong.

The little fellow recovered rapidly ; and, although on
the first day after the amputation we had to put food
down his throat, getting viciously punished by his
needle-pointed bill and claws, on the second he took
meat from our hands, eating voraciously as much as
we would give him, and even coming after us for more;
though, not having yet learned to steer himself under
his altered circumstances, he hobbled in a very clumsy
and crab-like fashion, now and then making futile
efforts to fly, and tumbling down on his side. Soon,
however, he learned to walk straight, and would follow
us about like a little dog, with the quaintest short
steps. He was soon tame and friendly with all but
the meerkat, for which he showed great animosity, and
on which he would jump spitefully—or perhaps hun-
grily ?—whenever it came near him. Possibly, in a
wild state, small animals of this kind were his natural
prey. He did not object to Toto, who indeed—with
the sole exception of his rival and arch-enemy Bobby—
has never failed to get on well with all his hetero-
geneous companions,

Horus, debarred by his infirmity from active exercise,
and condemned to a somewhat humdrum life, sought
consolation in the pleasures of the table, and developed
an enormous appetite. He shared the spoils of the

250 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

mousetraps with Bobby, and would take raw and
cooked meat from our hands with equal relish. Indeed
I am afraid we overfed him, and induced apoplexy.
At any rate, one evening as we sat reading after
dinner, he dropped quietly from his perch, and died
without a flutter.

The aasvogel, a repulsively ugly, bald-headed, bare-
necked bird of the most pronounced vulture type, is
very common in South Africa, especially in the regions
where game is most plentiful. These denizens of the
air seem to be perpetually hovering, on the watch for
prey, at such immense heights as to be quite out of
range of human vision; though their own keen sight
enables them instantly to detect the prospect of a feed,
and if an animal is killed, or even only wounded, they
are at once aware of the fact, and, swooping down from
their airy height, sail straight to the spot.

Perhaps you are a “new chum” out hunting, and you
bring down an antelope. Although, at the moment of
firing your shot, you would have been ready to take
your affidavit that—

“No birds were flying overhead,

There were no birds to fly,”—
your game has hardly fallen before, far up in the grey-
blue, a tiny speck appears, at first only just visible,
but rapidly increasing in size; then another, and yet
another floats into sight, “and still they come,” till at
last the heavens seem all alive with birds approaching
from every direction, outlined against the cloudless sky
in different degrees of size and clearness, according to

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES, 251

perspective, but all making the straightest of bee-lines
towards the wounded animal. In the Free State, where
these birds are very numerous, T , hunting on
horseback, has sometimes found that before he could
reach the spot where his antelope had fallen the
aasvogels were already on it, and had commenced
operations by plucking out the eyes, their special tit-
bits.

These nastiest of birds think nothing of overeating
themselves till their condition resembles that of Mark
Twain’s jumping frog after the famous dose of shot,.
and, when gorged after a good “square” meal, they are
so heavy that they have to run a long way before they
can rise into the air. On these occasions, if you are
active and have a good long whip, you can catch them
by switching the lash round their ugly, bare necks,
But a little experience teaches you that this sport has
its drawbacks, as the aasvogel invariably swarms with
animal life of the most objectionable kind.

Owls are plentiful enough in the Karroo; so too are
those other nocturnal birds, the goat-suckers, which at
sundown begin to fly about, uttering their weird,
plaintive ery. They are queer-looking birds, and seem
all out of proportion, with a broad, short head and
immensely wide bill, surrounded by stiff bristles like
a cat’s whiskers. On examining a specimen shot near
our house, we were amused to find that, by looking into
this preposterous bill, we could distinctly see the
creature's eyes through the semi-transparent roof of
the mouth.

252 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

Another of our feathered eccentricities, the butcher-
bird, called by the colonists Jack Hanger, likes to eat
his game high; and you often come across mimosa-
bushes which, stuck all over with small birds, beetles,
locusts, ete., impaled on the long, stiff thorns, form: his
well-stocked larder.

In such a land of snakes as South Africa it is
necessary for the birds to resort to many clever and
thoughtful devices for the protection of eggs and
young ; and some of the “homes without hands” are
most ingeniously planned and exquisitely constructed.

The golden oriole hangs her graceful nest on the very
furthest end of a long bough—over water, if possible,
for extra safety,—and always gives the preference to
the drooping branches of the willow. The nest is
shaped just like a Florence flask with the end curved
over; and it is next to impossible for a snake to pene-
trate into its interior.

Even prettier and more wonderfully made is the
nest of the kapok bird, a little creature resembling a
tom-tit. The material used in the construction of this
small domicile is a kind of wild cotton, well named by
the Boers kapok (snow). The nest, which is very com-
pact, and looks as if it were made of soft, white felt, is
of much the same shape as the oriole’s brown flask ;
but near the outlet it is dented in, forming a kind of
second or exterior nest, in which the little paterfamilias
mounts guard over his household gods, effectually
closing the aperture by the pressure of his back against
the curving end of the tube above him. The white

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES, 253

felt is very thick and firm throughout the globular
part of the flask, but gradually diminishes in density
along the neck, till at the orifice it is so thin and loosely
woven that the soft edges, pressed together by the bird,
remain interlaced even after he has flown from his
sentry-box. No apparent aperture is left; and the
little stronghold is quite impregnable, and ready to
baffle the wiliest of ophidian marauders, until Mrs.
Kapok, by flying out, re-opens the tunnel.

Snakes are indeed one of the greatest drawbacks to
South African life. There are so many of them, they
are of such deadly sorts, and the obtrusive familiarity
and utter absence of ceremony with which they come
into the houses render the nerves of newly-arrived
inmates liable at any moment to receive a severe
shock, After a time, of course, finding that every one
you meet has some startling experiences to relate, of
the discovery of intrusive snakes in all sorts of places
where they were most unlooked-for and least desirable,
you become somewhat inured to this unpleasant feature
of cvionial existence, and move about your house
with the caution of one who would not be surprised
to find a snake anywhere.

T——,, dressing one morning during the early days
of his Cape life, had just inserted his foot at one end
of his trousers, when a night-adder—a most deadly
little snake, with an evil habit of going about at
hours when all respectable reptiles are in bed—dropped
out at the other. One of our neighbours considerably
damaged his drawing-room by firing several shots at a

254 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

large cobra, which had startled his wife by paying an
unwelcome call. Another friend, exploring the depths
of her rather dark china-closet, put her hand on a
snake, comfortably coiled up beside the teacups. And
a ghastly tale we heard, of some one in bed, putting
his hand under the pillow at night for his pocket-
handkerchief, and pulling out a putf-adder, makes one
feel that—for those at least who live at the Cape—
there is more of common sense than of irony in Mark
Twain’s assertion that it is safest not to go to bed.

We were more fortunate than our neighbours, and
never during our four years’ residence did I find in
any of our rooms that snake for which—as the old lady
for the burglar—I was continually looking. Perhaps we
owed our immunity to the narrow strips of horse-hair
material, with the rough edge pointing upwards, which
T. , having read somewhere that no snake will
eross this prickly barrier, had nailed along the thres-
hold of each outer door. In the store, which did not
communicate with the house, and the door of which
was fortified by no friendly spikes, we did occasionally
kill a snake—attracted, no doubt, by the legions of fat
mice which ran riot among the sacks. The fowl-house,
too, would often be thrown into a state of wild excite-
ment and frenzied cackling by the visits of these
dreaded reptiles—most inveterate of egg-stealers.

One day, soon after we came up-country, Nancy
suddenly burst in upon us, her red turban all awry,
and her speech so incoherent with agitation that the
only intelligible words were “Missis! Turkey !! Missis!

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES. 255

Snake!!!” On running out, we found the whole
poultry-yard in commotion, and the hens clamouring
as if each had laid at least a dozen eggs; while our
nine turkeys stood drawn up in a row, pictures of
imbecile consternation, chattering feebly as they, one
and all, made a dead point at a little empty packing-
case, protruding from behind which we could just see
the ugly, broad head of a young puff-adder. The
enemy was soon despatched; and while the turkeys
recovered their equanimity—which process took a long
time—TI indulged in the pleasure so dear to any one
with a taste for natural history, and took a thorough
survey of this, the first good-sized puff-adder I had
seen, And what a repulsive creature it was, with its
short, thick, swollen-looking body, toad-like head, and
utterly evil countenance! Only the hideous cerastes,
with little demon-like horns—so common in North
Africa—comes anywhere near a puff-adder in thorough-
paced villany of expression.

Of all the Cape snakes the puff-adder is not only the
deadliest, but by far the most to be feared. For, being
of the same colour as the ground, it is extremely diffi-
cult to see: it is lazy, too, and will not take the trouble
to get out of your way as every other snake does; yet,
when roused, it is very active, and comes at you back-
wards, springing a long distance with accurate aim.
If you are in front of it you are safe, as it cannot strike
forward. One morning, T——, lifting up the rug in
which he had been sleeping out on the veldt, found the
flattened body of a puff-adder, which had evidently

256 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

crept between the folds for warmth, and which he had
unconsciously crushed to death.

Cobras, some of which are quite six feet in length, are
very numerous in the Karroo. At certain seasons this
snake is very aggressive, and will come at you boldly
if you happen to be between it and its nest. T ,
when out shooting one day with a pointer, suddenly saw
a cobra lift itself up and strike the dog. The venom
was so swift in its operation that the poor animal only
turned round once, and died almost immediately.

The schaapsticker, which always reminded me of the
beautiful but deadly coral-snakes of South America, has
a wonderfully-marked skin, the pretty pattern and
bright tints of which might well be utilized by some
artistic designer of floor-cloths. A delicate, coral-like
red predominates among the colours; and altogether
the creature is so small and pretty that it is difficult to
believe it is one of the most venomous of snakes, It
is particularly destructive to cattle and sheep, hence
its name, the literal translation of which is “sheep-

stinger.”

Some of the tree-snakes, too, are very beautiful ;
and, many of them being of the same bright green
as the foliage, a close look is required to distinguish
them as they lurk beneath it on the watch for birds, or
for little mice which sometimes climb up into bushes,
or into the lower branches of trees.

Lizards are very plentiful throughout the Karroo;
and, as you walk through the veldt, hundreds of them,
startled by your footsteps, dart away in all directions

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES, 257

from one isolated tuft of bush to another, as if running
for their little lives. In strong contrast to these bright,
active creatures of the sunshine are the slow-moving,
pallid-complexioned house-lizards which are so un-
pleasantly common. There are few things uglier than
one of these hikés. With his flat, round toes, serving
the purpose of suckers whereby he is enabled to retain
his foothold as he perches, fly-like, on the ceilings, his
low, criminal type of face, brightened by none of the
quaint, antediluvian air of wisdom which redeems the
chameleon’s honest ugliness, and with his general un-
healthy and uncanny appearance, it is no wonder that
among the ignorant natives he has the reputation of
being as venomous as he looks, and that from one end
of the country to the other he is more dreaded than
any snake. Yet it is somewhat puzzling to think how
he can inflict a poisonous bite, when, on looking into
his mouth, you perceive that he has no teeth.

An object of even more superstitious dread is that
mysterious and deadly creature—half-quadruped, half-
reptile, and certainly altogether fabulous—the so-called
dassie-adder. Throughout the whole country you hear
accounts of this strange animal from Boers, Kaffirs,
and Hottentots; many of the coloured race declare
that they have seen it, and, though some laugh at the
tale, the belief in it is evidently very general. The
auterior portion of the mythical creature’s body is
supposed to be that of a dassie, or rock-rabbit (the
coney of Scripture), to which are joined, in somewhat
mermaid-like fashion, the thick body and blunt tail of

258 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

a snake resembling a puff-adder. According to all
accounts the dassie-adder, whose bite is instantly fatal,
is most vindictive, and, running with all the swiftness
of a dassie, will chase any one who comes near it,
Some say, too, that it goes about at night.

The dassies, so terrible in their fictitious semi-reptile
state, are in real life very harmless, timid little animals.
They are gregarious, and live among the rocks in such
inaccessible places that it is most difficult to capture
one of them; and a tame dassie is among the rarest

- of Karroo pets, so securely do these “feeble folk” make
“their houses in the rocks.” In appearance the dassie
is very like a little brown guinea-pig; as regards in-
telligence, too, he is just about the equal of his rather
uninteresting piebald cousins, and, although he is as
pretty, soft-coated and gentle as you could wish, and
in his mild, placid way gets very tame, he is nowhere
in comparison with that prince of pets, a meerkat.

A not unlikely solution of the dassie-adder mystery
seems to be that in all probability the puff-adders prey
upon the little denizens of the rocks; and a large snake
may o¢casionally have been seen with a half-swallowed.
dassie in his mouth, just as a common snake sometimes
displays, protruding from his jaws, the head and fore-
legs of the inconveniently fat frog which he is unable
to gulp down in a hurry. The negro mind is quite
capable of evolving a fabulous animal out of even
such slight grounds as this.

Of “creepy-crawlies” of all kinds the Karroo pos-
sesses more than enough, and—like the snakes—they

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES. 259

invade the house, and make themselves at home ina
manner which is free and .easy rather than pleasant.
Legions of venomous centipedes, scorpions, and big,
bristly-legged spiders of the tarantula tribe lurk in
the old reed ceilings; from whence they drop playfully
down now and then, to the consternation of the un-
wary inmate sitting beneath, on whose head or book
they chance to land. Or, if they do not drop down
on you, they lie in wait about the room in well-chosen
points of vantage, where their sudden discovery is sure
to give you a horrid jump, even if you are lucky
enouch to get off without a venomous bite or sting.
One evening, as I was getting ready for bed—
oblivious for once of cautious habits acquired, years
before, in that land of “jiggers,” the West Indies,
where you never venture to walk slipperless, even
across your bedroom—my bare foot suddenly en-
countered what seemed like the point of a red-hot
needle sticking straight up out of the floor; and,
looking down, I found that I had trodden on a scorpion.
Fortunately, it was not one of the large black ones,
which are the most venomous, but only a light-coloured
specimen, about two inches and a half in length. It
was, however, quite bad enough; and although T
recklessly poured away over the foot our whole photo-
graphic supply of ammonia, and made me drink the
greater part of a bottle of strong Cape wine in the
hope of neutralizing the poison—though, alas! only
producing other and sad results—it was many hours
before that red-hot needle showed any signs of cooling

260 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

down. And then an exaggerated form of “pins and
needles” set in, followed by what resembled a suc-
cession of powerful electric shocks running up the leg
at intervals of two or three minutes. Altogether, the
victim of a scorpion’s sting can well realize the feelings
of gouty patients, who dread to see even their best
friends coming within five or six yards of them. It
was two days before I could put my foot to the ground;
and then, for several more, I could only hobble pain-
fully with the aid of a stick.

Colonial boys are fond of setting scorpions to fight
with tarantulas. The great spiders are most pugnacious,
and seem only too giad of an opportunity to fight with
anything. T once watched one of them in desper-
ate battle with a centipede. The vicious spider, whose
body was as large as that of a mouse, seized his
antagonist and shook him savagely, just as a terrier
shakes a rat; then, letting him go for a time, he would
spring upon him, pick him up, and worry him again,
apparently with fiendish pleasure. He continued this
mode of warfare until the final collapse of the poor

centipede, whose pluck in facing such an adversary at
all deserves to be commended.

Prominent among insect nuisances are ants of many
different sorts and sizes, the worst of al] being the
mischievous rice ants. Many a carpet or curtain is
utterly ruined by these creatures, which have a trick
of coming up unexpectedly through the flocr in large
numbers, generally during the night, when they can
carry on their destructive work without interruption.

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES, 261

They work with a zeal worthy of a better cause, and
the amount of damage their powerful jaws can do in
one night is almost incredible.

Very pretty necklaces are made of the threaded
eggs of one kind of ant. They are rough and irregular
in shape, and possess such a soft lustre, that—but for
their deep golden colour—they might almost be taken
for inferior pearls.

It is some satisfaction to know that the ranks of
Cape ants are considerably thinned by several inveterate
enemies. One of these is that strange burrowing animal
the ant-bear, called by the Dutch aardvaark (earth-
pig).* There is one in the Zoo; and it is about as un-
canny and nightmare-like a beast as could be imagined
or dreamed of—a sort of crazy combination of calf and
pig, reminding one of the Mock Turtle in “ Alice’s
Adventures.” Like that tearful animal, it possesses a
head and body which do not in the smallest degree
appear to belong to each other. The longest, narrowest
and boniest of calves’ heads, so pallid and sickly in
complexion, and so entirely hairless, as to appear not
only dead, but neatly scraped and cleaned all ready for
cooking, is joimed—without the intervention of any
neck to speak of—to a fat, pig-like body, very scantily
clothed with short, bristly hairs. The eyes are large
and dark, the bare, pink ears are of rabbit-like pro-
portions, and the calf’s head terminates in a pig’s
snout, thickly lined with hair. This latter is the only
hirsute adornment possessed by the goblin-like coun-

* Orycteropus capensis.

262 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

tenance, to which a very cynical expression is given by
the animal’s ugly trick of wrinkling up its enormously
long snout. The thick legs, and the feet, armed with
large claws, are immensely strong ; so, too, is the broad,
flat, almost hairless tail, about the shape of which there
is something unpleasantly suggestive of a puff-adder.
The specimen in the Zoo has a damaged tail, the result
of the force the captors found it necessary to use in
dragging it from its hole. A riem was once tied to
the tail of an ant-bear, and a span of oxen fastened on
to draw it, out of the ground. But, after much ineffec-
tual tugging, the experiment ended in the breaking of
the riem—or of the tail—our informant had forgotten
which; at any rate the animal remained in its hole.

Many a time does the unwary rider, cantering across
the veldt, come to sudden grief in one of the deep,
trap-like holes made by the ant-bear, which seems by
no means an uncommon animal. But it is quite pos-
sible to live many years in South Africa, and, however
often you may tumble into its holes, never once see
the creature itself. For, being of nocturnal habits, it
is active only at night, when it tunnels its way under-
ground like a mole, occasionally coming to the sur-
face, and now and then emerging in very unexpected
places.

Some members of a hunting-party, camping out for
the night, were much surprised to see the ground heave
up suddenly in the centre of their tent, the passing of
an ant-bear a little below the surface being the cause
of the miniature earthquake. And during the war in

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES, 263

Zululand an Irish sentry was on guard at midnight,
when suddenly, close to him, the ground opened, and
out of it rose a ghastly living Jack-in-the-box. The
moonbeams shone full on the horrid form, long head,
and deadly-pale, calf-like face; and the man—small
blame to him—dropped his gun, deserted his post, and
fled in horror, shouting to his astonished comrades the
awful news that he had seen Old Nick himself! And
indeed, if, on one of our moonlight strolls about the
farm, an ant-bear had suddenly risen in our path, I am
quite sure that we should have taken to our heels with
equal alacrity.

The cage of the Cape ant-bear at the Zoo being
next to thai of the American ant-eater, a good oppor-
tunity is afforded for observing the marked dissimilarity
of the two animals, which indeed could hardly be more
unlike each other. One of the numerous points in
which they differ is that the American ant-eater is
toothless, while the aardvaark possesses teeth.

The ant-lion, so often pictured in books of natural
history, is common in the Karroo; and it was a great
pleasure for us when, for the first time, we saw him in
real life, and examined his cleverly-constructed, funnel-
shaped trap, hollowed out in the soft, sliding sand,—
down which his victims tumble, to find him waiting
open-mouthed at the bottom.

Talking of the ant-lion reminds one of another exca-
vator, still more familiar to Cape colonists, the trap-door
spider. His “diggings” are in the form of a perpen-
dicular, cylinder-shaped box, the lid of which, level with

264 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

the surface of the ground, is so neatly made that it is
quite impossible to detect it when closed.

The walking-leaf tribe is very largely represented in
South Africa ; and besides simulating leaves of many
different kinds, the creatures assume numerous other
forms, some looking just like pieces of dried stick,
others iike bits of straw, blades of grass, etc. The plant,
or portion of a plant, which they personate so admirably,
is always the chosen resting-place on which they sit,
motionless and meditative, often defying detection. The
praying mantis is worshipped by the Hottentots, who
perhaps, like the ancient Greeks and Romans, look on
him as a kind of soothsayer or fortune-teller (udy7us),
But in spite of being the Hottentot god, and of possess-
ing such a pious-sounding scientific name as Mantis
religiosa, he is a most pugnacious little beast; and if
he has a difficulty to settle with one of his brethren,
the pair will fight it out like the Kilkenny cats.

Not long ago, at a North African picnic, one of these
same little creatures caused much amusement by the
tact which he displayed in doing just the right thing
at the right time, and in the prettiest manner. It was
a very hot day, so close and oppressive that we all felt
rather languid; and conversation flagged as we sat at
luncheon round the table-cloth spread on the ground
in the interior of a large tent. Suddenly, during a
long pause, a little mantis appeared on the scene,
With a jaunty air, and with all the cool self-possession
of a popular performer advancing, confident of success,
towards the footlights, he stepped on to the tablecloth,

KARROO BEASTS, BIRDS AND REPTILES, 265

and, crossing it in a bee-line, drew up before Her
Britannic Majesty’s Consul, to whom, with many jerky
inclinations of his gaunt, bright-green body, he made
what appeared to be a series of most obsequious bows.
Then, having obeyed the first requirements of etiquette,
he passed slowly along the line of guests, halting
occasionally and paying his respects to one or the otlier.
He seemed quite unabashed by all the notice and
applause which he received ; and as the plate in which
he finally deposited himself was handed round among
the guests, he calmly surveyed each one in turn, while
continuing, very literally, to “bow and scrape.” If he
had been a paid performer, engaged beforehand, he
could not have played his little part better; and all
agreed in giving him a vote of thanks for his timely
appearance, which just gave us the mental pick-me-up
which, on that enervating day, we all needed. I be-
lieve some one carried him home at last in a paper
cage ; though whether he fulfilled the brilliant promise
of his first introduction to human society, and became
an intelligent pet, we never heard.

CHAPTER XIII
OUR NEIGHBOURS,

Hospitality of Cape colonists—Cheating and jealousy in business—
Comfortless homes—Spoilt children—Education—The ‘‘ School-
master’”’—Convent schools—A priest-ridden nation—The Nacht-
maal—Old French names—A South African duke in Paris—
Fine-looking men—Fat women—lIgnorance of Vrouws—Boers
unfriendly to English—A mean man,

THERE is much to be admired in the character of
those decidedly unpolished diamonds, the colonial-born,
English-speaking inhabitants of the Karroo. They
are a fine, sturdy, self-reliant race, splendidly fitted in
every way for their extremely rough-and-ready sur-
roundings. In kindliness and hospitality they are
unsurpassed, even by the much-praised dwellers in
Arab tents or white, flat-roofed Moorish houses; and
in the isolated homesteads where they live their rough,
but simple and healthy lives, the heartiest reception is
invariably accorded alike to friends, slight acquaint-
ances, and even perfect strangers. Perhaps you are
one of the latter, and, on a long journey, you outspan
at the dam of a farm, with the intention of remaining
only long enough to give the horses the necessary water
and rest before you trek again. But no sooner is your

OUR NEIGHBOURS. 267

cart or spider seen to stop than you are sought out,
with kind and pressing invitation to come in. No
matter how full the house may already be, how late
or inconvenient the hour of your unexpected arrival
on a Cape farm, a place is always found for you
at the table; and, if needed, some sort of a night’s
lodging, of however impromptu a description, will
be prepared for you. The colonist joyfully makes you
welcome to his best. If you are staying in his house,
a mount or a seat in his conveyance is always at your
disposal; and the longer you can remain, the better
he and all his kind-hearted family are pleased. It is
true that their home is far from being a luxurious one,
and that none of them have much idea of comfort; but
the latter article being, on account of the isolation
and of the bad servants, somewhat difficult of attain-
ment, it is on the whole just as well that no one misses
it sufficiently to regret its absence; and one cannot
but admire and envy the philosophical manner in which
the colonists take things as they come, making them-
selves perfectly happy under any circumstances.
Altogether there is so much that is lovable in the
colonial character, that you are sometimes disappointed
to find that there is a reverse to this bright side of the
picture, and that—even by those who have received
you the most hospitably, and who apparently, while
you were their guest, could not do enough for you—
you are liable, in business transactions, to be woefully
cheated. It is thought no disgrace to get the better

of any one in a bargain, whether on an iniquitously
18

268 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

large or contemptibly small scale; on the contrary, it
is considered rather clever and smart to “do a shot” on
the guileless and unsuspecting new chum, fresh from
a country where a somewhat different code of honour
obtains.

Business jealousies, too, are another source of trouble
to the uninitiated. If any farmer has a project which
seems likely to turn out a good thing for him, he had
better be careful that no bird of the air whispers it
about beforehand among his neighbours and rivals,
who, one and all, will only be too glad if they can
bring his plans to naught.

Time seems to be of no more value to the Cape
colonists than it is to the followers of Islam, and
“letting things slide” is pretty generally the order of
the day. One is rather puzzled at this weak point in
otherwise active, energetic characters; and certainly,
living as these people do in the splendid air of the
Cape—exhilarating as champagne, and making all who
inhale it feel glad to be alive—they cannot, like the
limp, supine inhabitants of Eastern lands, plead the
excuse of an enervating climate. Much of the dis-
comfort in the houses is due to this frightful habit of
procrastinating. Whatever is broken is, as often as
not, left unmended for an indefinite time; little repairs,
which need but the minimum of time and trouble, but
the neglect of which would cause daily annoyance and
discomfort to any but these easy-going mortals, are
put off from week to week and from month to month.
And every one is just as happy and contented, with

OUR NEIGHBOURS. 269

violent draughts and clouds of dust blowing in through
two or three broken windows at once; or with a glass
outer door whose handle has been off for months, and
which continually flaps noisily backwards and forwards,
admitting gusts of cold wind and Hocks of turkeys
and fowls into the room; as if all things were in per-
fect order. Poultry and domestic animals, indeed, have
it all their own way on Karroo farms with the
delightful freedom enjoyed by their brethren in Irish
cabins. At one house, for instance, if the dining-
room was left for a moment when the cloth was laid
for a meal, half a dozen fowls would be on the table,
picking the bread to pieces; while in another I have
several times assisted our hosts in ejecting a too-
friendly pig from the bedroom. To give South African
pigs their due, I must say that in that driest of climates
they are less uncleanly in their persons, and hence
rather less objectionable indoors, than they would be
in Europe. But we had English prejudices, and dis-
countenanced the visits of members of the farm-yard ;
and Toto had standing orders, which he faithfully
obeyed, to keep the rooms clear of live stock of all
kinds, with the exception of privileged pets.

Even more terrible than the intrusive animals are the
spoilt children. During their earlier years the little
colonists are left very much to themselves: they run
wild, like young colts, about their native farm, no one
takes the trouble to interfere with them, and they are
allowed to retain, unchecked, all the rude, rough habits
which they have acquired from their uncivilized Hot-

270 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

tentot nurse-girls, They do as they like, say whatever
comes uppermost, and behave at table in any sort of out-
rageous fashion that pleases them ; while the father and
mother sit unmoved, apparently surprised at nothing
their progeny may see fit todo. The latter being totally
unencumbered by bashfulness, the presence of strangers
acts as no restraint; and a dinner taken in the company
of a large family of boys, of stolid parents, and in-
different elder sisters, is for the newly-imported English
visitor a novel and rather startling experience, the
details of which, however, are best left to oblivion.

But, on the whole, the young Africander’s bringing-
up—unpleasant though he certainly is during the
process—is no doubt the best possible one to fit him
for the rough and active life of the farms, and to form
in him that independent character and those habits of
self-reliance and smartness in money matters which,
when he is grown up, stand him in such good stead.
And he does grow up with astounding rapidity ; being
at fifteen a thorough man of business, able to “do a
deal” with any one, and taking good care, you may be
sure, that the transaction is no unprofitable one to
himself. In this respect he affords a decided contrast
to the average young Englishman, who, at twenty-five,
is often—where business matters are concerned—as in-
experienced as a boy.

The difficulties in the way of providing the children
with a good education are by no means one of the least
of South African drawbacks ; especially for those living
on the far-off country farms. Colonial schools do not

OUR NEIGHBOURS, 271

seem to be much in favour, at least for boys, and the
great ambition of a Cape parent is to send his sons home
to be educated in Europe—most frequently for the
medical profession, a doctor’s position being the most
coveted oneinthecolony. Inthe Edinburgh University,
especially, the Africander element is in greatforce. Those
parents who cannot afford to have their boys educated
in Europe generally contrive to secure the services of
some broken-down gentleman, occasionally even of a
clergyman, who lives on the farm and—too often for a
shamefully small salary, indeed in one or two instances
for nothing but his keep—fills the post of tutor, or, as
his employers call him, “ schoolmaster,” to the turbulent
young tribe. As may be imagined, his life is not a very
enviable one, the breaking-in process being all the
harder in consequence of the long period, prior to his
advent, when his charges were allowed to run wild out
of doors all day long—to the immense benefit, no doubt,
of their robust young bodies, but to the utter neglect
of all intellectual and moral training.

The schoolmaster does not seem to have been a very
general institution in the days when some of the older
colonists were young; and a business correspondence
with Karroo farmers sometimes elicits the wildest
vagaries of orthography. T , for instance, received
a letter from one of our neighbours, in which the
following sentences occurred: “Your hostridges are vary
onpleasand on the public outspan. Pleas to try and
halter tham.” Another correspondent, intent on the
purchase of ostriches, told us he wished “ to bye buirds.”

272 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

For girls, the convent schools in several of the larger
towns are undoubtedly the best, both as regards the
good, sensible education imparted, and the refined, lady-
like manners which are invariably acquired by all who
have been brought up under the tutelage of the nuns.
Throughout the whole country, the convent-bred girls
can always be recognised at a glance, and the contrast
is very striking between them and the less fortunate
ones who possess but the superficial education and
second-rate manners of the average colonial boarding-
school, Even the daughters of the roughest Boers, if
sent to a convent school, are turned out perfect ladies,
and return to their up-country homes with gentle and
gracious manners strangely out of keeping with their
uncouth surroundings. But there are many parents, of
course, to whom all the advantages of convent educa-
tion could not compensate for that insuperable objection,
the risk of Romanizing influence ; and intending settlers
in the colony who do not wish to expose their daughters
to that risk will do well to bring out a good governess
with them, and keep the girls at home.

The Boer’s great desire, like that of his English-
speaking neighbour, is to get his boys educated in
Europe; but, instead of the medical profession, the
pastorate is the object of his ambition. For these
Cape Dutch, although Protestants, are quite. as priest-
ridden as any Roman Catholic nation; the predikant
is a great man indeed throughout the widespread circle
of his parishioners, and to offend him, or even to fail in
paying him the exact amount of deference he considers
his due, means to be boycotted.

OUR NEIGHBOURS, 273

The nachtmaal,or communion, is only administered—
as among Scotch Presbyterians—twice or three times
during the year; and on these rare occasions the little
town or village where there is a Dutch church becomes
the lively scene of an immense gathering of Boers,
vrowws, and families, They have come, many of them
from long distances of three or four days’ journey, plod-
ding along in waggons drawn by long spans of oxen,
driving in roomy conveyances of every possible queer
and antiquated shape, or travelling on horseback—
the stout, ungainly women, in their white kappjes and
gaudily-coloured dresses, cantering clumsily by the
side of their lords. The crowd of outspanned vehicles,
drawn up close together, form a kind of large camp .
and, the Boer being always ready to combine piety with
business—and, if need be, with a good deal of cheating,
—the nachtmaal ends with a busy fair or market,
in which a very brisk trade is carried on, all kinds of
farm produce being sold or bartered.

In nearly all the Dutch houses you find curious old
family Bibles, many of them in black-letter, with
quaint and interesting maps. In some of the latter,
representing Africa, the lakes Victoria and Albert
Nyanza are marked, though quite in the wrong places.
The good old French names borne by so many of the
Boers tell of their Huguenot descent; Du Plessis, De
Villiers, Du Toit, Du Barry, etc., are all names of fre-
quent occurrence in South Africa, although the French
language is never spoken, the Dutch having prohibited
its use among the refugees when the latter settled in

274 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

the colony. Some time ago, Napoleon IIT, anxious to
restore the ancient nobility, sent for one of these Boers,
who, in the old country, was the heir to a dukedom,
inviting him to resume his title and estates. The colo-
nist came to Paris, and, after giving European life a fair
trial, became homesick for his vineyard and his farm,
and—perhaps impelled by that attraction which seems
to draw back to the Cape those who have once lived
under its bright sky—decided in favour of his old-
fashioned life, and, resigning all his ancestral rights,
went joyfully home to the rough surroundings of his
childhood.

Although the Boers are fine, well-built, handsome
men, their feminine relatives, far from equalling them
in good looks, are as fat and ungraceful as any inmates
of Turkish harems. Fortunately, however, excessive
obesity is in the eyes of a Boer the very quality of all
others which constitutes the chief attraction of a mooie
vrouw (handsome woman); and when he uses the
latter expression you may be sure that he speaks of a
ponderous being, no less than thirteen or fourteen
stone in weight. In this matter of taste the Boers
resemble not only the Turks, but also the Zulus, who
can pay a woman no higher compliment than to com-
pare her toashe-elephant. The vrowws become passées
at a very early age, and are apparently shortlived in
comparison with their lords, if one may judge from
the fact that it is no uncommon thing to meet a man
of fifty who has already had three wives.

Intellectually, no less than physically, the Boer

OUR NEIGHBOURS, 275

women are considerably the inferiors of the men. They
have evidently lived for generations in blissful ignor-
ance, with no more education than falls to the lot of
the Oriental ladies they so closely resemble in figure.
Their husbands and fathers have been quite contented
with the existing state of things; and it is only of late
years that a few of the more enlightened parents, be-
ginning at last to récognise the value of female educa-
tion, have been sending their daughters to the convent
schools.

In Spain, an equally strong contrast may be observed
between the men and the women; but it is reversed,
the advantage being on the side of the sefioras, who
somehow appear too handsome and intelligent to belong
to the ignoble, mean-looking men.

The Boers used to be very friendly with the English;
but now—thanks to the sad and too well-known
manner in which our Government has muddled South
African affairs—we are most unpopular. Formerly, if
an Englishman on his journey came to a Dutchman’s
house, he was most hospitably received—though eti-
quette demanded that on his departure he should offer
money in payment for his food and bed, in order that
his host might have the pleasure of refusing it; but
now, were he to present himself, the chances are that
the Boer would iusultingly offer him a night’s lodging
in the negroes’ quarters, as was once the case with

T

Meanness is a prominent trait in the Boer’s cha-
racter. Indeed, the reputation which he has acquired

276 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

—not altogether justly—for being such a splendid shot,
really and truly proceeds from his excessive care to
make sure of his game, and thus waste no cartridges.
Here is an instance which almost equals Max Adeler’s
meanman. WhenT was at the Kimberley Diamond
Fields, a Kaffir fell one day from the narrow pathway
left between the claims into one of the latter, belonging
to a Dutchman. He landed on the little table used by
the Boer for sorting his diamonds, and—the height
from which he had fallen being eighty feet—not only
the table, but nearly every bone in the unfortunate
man’s body was broken. He seems, however, to have
possessed a wonderfully strong constitution, and ac-
tually recovered from his terrible injuries; and, his
case exciting very general sympathy among the kind-
ly diamond-diggers, a subscription was made for him.
But, long before he was convalescent, the Boer called
on him, demanding payment for the broken table, the
whole value of which did not amount to more than

thirty shillings.

CHAPTER XIV.
GOOD-BYE,

Recalled to England—Regrets and farewells—Cape horses lacking in
intelligence—‘‘Old Martin”—A chapter of accidents—A horse
“after Velasquez ’—The Spy’s revenge—Virtues and faults of Cape
horses—Horse-sickness—Good-bye to Swaylands—Kaffir crane—
The voyage home—Dogs in durance—St. Helena—A visit to
Longwood—Home again.

AT last, after several busy and most enjoyable years of
ostrich-farming life, the time came when—our presence
being required in England—we bade farewell to our colo-
nial home, and, leaving the management of affairs in
the able hands of a friend from the old country, with
whom T had recently entered into partnership,
took our departure from Swaylands, not without many
regrets. Although, within the wide circle enclosed
by our wire fence, we were not leaving many of our
human fellow-creatures, there were plenty of good-byes
to be said ; for those who live on these out-of-the-way
farms come to be on very intimate and familiar terms
with their live stock, and all our creatures—even the
fowls, and those tamer members of our large family of
ostriches which for years had been daily looking in-
quiringly in at our windows, and picking and stealing

278 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

round the kitchen door—were old friends, from whom
we were sorry to part.

But, strange to say, the very animal which in Eng-
land becomes one of the friendliest seems here the
least domesticated ; and it cost us less of a pang to bid
adieu to our horses than might be imagined by people
at home, unacquainted with the surprising lack of in-
telligence which, in the Cape Colony, distinguishes the
equine race, Their independent lives, and the freedom
which most of them enjoy to roam as they will about
the veldt, unfettered by the restraints of a stable, seem
to have rendered them very indifferent to human
society. It is no use trying to make a friend of your
horse; he contemptuously repels all your advances,
obstinately refuses to eat out of your hand, despises
pieces of bread, lumps of sugar, and all such delicate
little attentions wherewith you have never failed to
win the heart of his English brother, and, however
many years he may have lived with you, persists to
the last in remaining on the coldest and most distant
of terms.

Among all our horses the only really intelligent
animal was one of Arab descent. But our good-bye to
him was said a year before; and now, on leaving
Swaylands, we can but take our last look at “the place
where the old horse died.” The faithful old grey
friend who lies under that rough clump of bush was a
favourite of long standing. He had belonged to T
many years ago, was sold by him on leaving the colony,
and, after changing hands several times, chiefly among

GOOD-BYE, 279

acquaintances of his former owner—in remembrance of
whom he acquired the name of “Old Martin”—was
repurchased by T soon after we came out. Al-
though by this time he was a long way past his prime,
he was still considerably the best of all our horses, and
for pluck and endurance we have never seen his equal.
At the end of the longest day’s journey—even though
it had covered sixty miles—he would come in pulling
as hard as at the start, and apparently as fresh. No
matter how poor his condition—and South African
horses do indeed get poor during long droughts—he
was at all times equally ready for work. We never
insulted him by carrying so unnecessary an article as
a whip; for he did everything with a will, and whether
cantering, trotting, or only walking, always seemed to
be endeavouring to run away with you. Asa lady’s
horse he was simply perfect, all his paces being equally
delightful for the rider.

In former times T—— and his four-footed namesake
had gone through many adventures together ; and now,
when after the lapse of years these two friends and
comrades met again, the old horse instantly recog-
nised his master with unmistakeable signs of pleasure.

One of these early adventures came very near costing
the good grey his life. T , during a journey on
horseback, came one evening to a river crossed by an
open railway-bridge consisting only of iron girders.
To save time and avoid a circuitous route he decided
to take a somewhat reckless short cut and lead the
horse over that bridge. In this Blondin-like fashion they

280 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

had proceeded about half-way across, when poor old
Martin’s foot slipped, and down he came, falling in such
a position that his body lay prone on the narrow iron
pathway formed by the rail and girder, while on either
side two of his legs dangled helplessly over space. Sun-
down was approaching; so too was a train which, as
T remembered, was very nearly due; but, though
he tried his utmost to help the poor animal to his feet,
all was unavailing, and presently the train hove in
sight. T , waving his handkerchief with wild ges-
tures, succeeded in attracting the attention of the
engine-driver, who stopped the train and came to his
assistance. But, with all their efforts, they could not
succeed in raising the horse from his perilous position ;
the train could wait no longer, and they had no choice
but to resort to the kill-or-cure expedient of rolling
him over into the water below. Falling from a height
of some twenty-five feet, he went so deep into the mud
at the bottom of the shallow African river that T
was unable to pull him out, and had to leave him there
all night. On coming back next morning with a
span of oxen and some stout riems, he was horrified to
find that during the night the unfortunate animal had
sunk deeper and deeper into the mud, till little more
than his nose remained above water. It was the work
of much time and exertion to drag him out; and
during the process-his neck got such a twist that for
the remainder of his days there was a crook in it, which
caused his head to hang meditatively a little on one
side.

GOOD-BYE., 281

Another time he was attacked by a large swarm of
vicious bees, which settled all over him, stinging him so
severely that his whole body swelled up, and he
assumed the proportions of that preposterously inflated
horse by Velasquez in the picture-gallery at Madrid.
For three days the poor old fellow stood immoveable ;
then, after taking an enormous drink of water, he
gradually recovered.

Very different, too, from the unintelligent Cape
horses was “The Spy,” a well-known steeple-chaser,
imported into the colony by T some years ago.
An incident which occurred during his voyage out
recalls the oft-told anecdote of the elephant and the
tailor. The horse-box in which the Spy was placed
being just outside the door of the saloon, his head
was in close proximity to the waiters as they passed
and repassed during their attendance at meals. One
of these waiters, being of a malicious turn of mind,
found great enjoyment in teasing the unoffending
animal, and missed no opportunity of giving him a
rough knock on the nose in passing. For a while the
Spy bore this treatment patiently ; but he was biding
his time, and at last had his revenge. One day, as the
obnoxious waiter, bearing in either hand a steaming
dish of currie and rice, was stepping briskly along to
the saloon, he suddenly found himself grasped in a
pair of powerful jaws, whisked clean off his legs,
shaken like a rat in the grip of a terrier, and, finally,
ignominiously dropped on to the deck among the
débris and scattered contents of his dishes.

282 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

Although the horses produced by the Cape Colony
are the best in South Africa, they have been much
over-rated. It is true that a large number of them are
capable of getting through a good deal of slow, con-
tinuous work under the saddle, with poor food and hard-
ships as to shelter; but the vast majority of the colonial
horses are in all respects indifferent animals, and devoid
of good looks. In one point, perhaps, they surpass all
other equine races in the world—their feet being gene-
rally excellent, and the hoofs so firm and hard as rarely
to require shoeing, even on very long journeys. Many
horses of most unprepossessing exterior are scarcely
to be matched for speed and endurance in the field;
but, taken en masse, South African horses are a failure.
They are almost invariably poor and timid jumpers,
and, when in harness, move but very small weights.
A light cart containing two persons is sufficient to tax
the powers of a pair of average horses, and even then
jibbing is always imminent. At least eighty per cent.
of the Cape horses are desperate stumblers, and uneasy
in their paces—faults attributable to round, heavy
shoulders and defective hind-quarters. Among the
good horses the greater proportion are ill-tempered,
and delight in buck-jumping, whenever they have the
rare chance of being in good condition.

The terrible distemper known as “horse sickness ”
periodically causes great destruction in many parts of
the colony; and the fear of it operates as a check
on breeders, who would otherwise import better
horses to improve their studs. A “salted horse ”—one

GOOD-BYE. 283

which has had horse-sickness—is very valuable, even if
abounding in all kinds of equine misfortunes or faults,
Such animals range in price from £25 to £100, accord-
ing to age and quality. Horse-sickness is most partial
in its operations; and sometimes, in the case of two
adjoining farms, one will be severely attacked by the
disease, while the other remains perfectly free from it.

And now, at length, the day of departure has come;
and we leave Swaylands, though not in our own cosy
little American spider. That fairy chariot, alas! is
hors de combat; its strong, though delicate-looking
wheels have succumbed at last to the roughness of
Karroo roads and the dryness of the South African
climate; and as we pass out at the little gate we take
our last look at it as it lies there on the ground, a for-
lorn, sledge-like thing. What glorious drives we have
had in that once daintiest and prettiest of little
carriages—travelling to hunts or dances, fetching our
mail, or sending off precious freights of feathers to the
Port Elizabeth market! and how vividly the recollec-
tion of them comes back to us as we pass for the last
time along the familiar Mount Stewart road!

Even now, at this time and distance, we can still
conjure them up, and see and hear once more the well-
known and loved sights and sounds of the Karroo.
Animal and bird life start into quick motion all round
us: the little dwyker antelopes spring up from their
forms among the bush, and dart gracefully away;
the flights of pretty Namaqua partridges run along

the ground quite close to us; the knorhaans, rending
19

284 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

the air with discordant, over-powering noise, chatter
out their loud disapproval of our approach ; the little
bright-eyed meerkats stare audaciously at us, then
dive into their holes in pretended fear of us; the air
is all full of the sweet scent of mimosa-blossoms, and
T—-, singing joyously in the overflow of good spirits
induced by its pure, fresh, exhilarating qualities, en-
livens the journey with one song after another as we
spin merrily along on our airy, bicycle-like wheels;
while Toto, equally happy, careers at our side, chasing
every animal and bird that he sees, though seldom able
to catch anything much swifter on its feet than a
tortoise.

These tortoises, by the way, always afforded Toto
excellent sport; he considered it his bounden duty to
bring to us—no matter from what distance—all that
he could possibly grasp with his teeth; and, many of
them being much too large to be carried in this way,
he was often obliged to put them down for a while, to
rest his poor aching jaws. Sometimes he would come
to a standstill before a gigantic specimen, and call us,
with loud, excited barks, to the spot where some fifty
pounds of splendid material for soup were to be had
for the picking-up. He would stand barking triumph-
antly at the creature, which, in response, kept up a low,
roaring noise, expressive of deepest disgust at his pro-
ceedings, And when the prize was secured, and we
drove off with it safely ensconced at our feet, Toto
was a proud dog indeed.

Somehow, on this last drive into Mount Stewart,

GOOD.-BYE, 285

everything is tantalizingly looking its very best; the
veldt, refreshed by recent rains, is of a lovely soft
green, and delicate flowers peep from it in all direc-
tions ; the dazzling sunshine—so soon to be exchanged
for cold northern skies—seems brighter than ever;
and, in the clear atmosphere of the Karroo, the bold
outlines of the far-off Cock’s Comb are lifted up, as it
were, by a strange effect of mirage—the mountain
appearing quite detached from the horizon, and with
blue water flowing at its foot. Just before we reach
the turn in the road which hides the homestead of
Swaylands from our view, we stop and look back ;
and, if it must be owned, that last look at the poor
little ugly house—our dear home for the past few
years—is taken by not quite undimmed eyes.

Then on, at a brisk pace, to Mount Stewart, where, at
the pleasant little hotel in which we have so often been
hospitably entertained, the host and his numerous
family are assembled in full force to bid us God-speed.
I take my last, wistful look at a long-coveted tame
Kaffir crane, a delightful bird, who, in his neat suit of
softest French-grey plumage, stalks solemnly—as he
has been doing any time these four or five years—
about the precincts of station and hotel ; and am intro-
duced to a newly-captured baby jackal, which T:
has just bought, and which is to accompany us to
England. Then the train, at its usual leisurely pace,
crawls down with us to Port Elizabeth. More good-
byes—and at last we and all our zoological collection
are safe on board the Union Company’s S.S. Mexican ;

286 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

and soon the coast of Algoa Bay recedes from our
view.

Toto does not enjoy his journey as he did when out-.
ward-bound ; for there are too many of the canine race
on board, and one little pair of pugs in particular—
belonging to richly-jewelled passengers of the Hebrew
persuasion, who have not trained up their dogs in the
way they should go—commence the voyage by invad-
ing everybody’s cabin, and making themselves gene-
rally so objectionable that on the second day the
captain’s fiat goes forth for the impartial consignment
of all the dogs—good, bad and indifferent—to hen-
coops. There they are accordingly, on the second-class
deck, ranged in a dismal row, at one end of which poor
little caged Anubis, the jackal-cub, yelps piteously for
mother, brethren and freedom ; and there, for the four
weeks of the voyage, they are condemned to remain.
All are profoundly miserable; but poor old Toto—
being so much the largest—is the most to be pitied.
In that narrow cage, where there is hardly room for
him to turn round, he travels through the steaming
heat of the tropics; his legs become cramped and stiff
from want of exercise; he fattens like a Strasburg
goose on the Irish stew and other substantial viands
from the saloon table with which the waiters—cruelly
generous—persist in stuffing him; and when, as a rare
treat, he is allowed half an hour’s liberty for what is
ironically called a “run” on deck, he is able to do little
more than sit down and pant.

With better luck than often falls to the lot of travel-

GOOD.-BYE, 287

lers by steamer, we remain a sufficient time at St.
Helena to allow of a somewhat hurried visit to Long-
wood ; and, going ashore with a good number of fellow-
passengers, we charter the few carriages and saddle-
horses to be had in the little town, and proceed, as fast
as we can, up the steep, zigzag road. We notice that
in this island there seem to be two completely different
climates within a very short distance of one another.
Down near the sea-level, bananas and other tropical
plants grow luxuriantly in the close, stifling heat: but
as we ascend we come into ancther climate ; the air is
almost cold, there is a fine, drizzling rain; blackberries,
bracken,and other home-like plants border the roadside,
and we might imagine ourselves in England, but for
the bright-hued little birds which peep fearlessly at us
from the bushes. Though the excursion is a most
enjoyable one, especially after being cooped up on
board ship, Longwood itself is disappointing, the house
being quite dismantled, and containing nothing but a
very beautiful bust of Napoleon, which has been placed
by his family in one of the rooms.

Our passage is throughout a calm and prosperous one:
we have pleasant company on board; there are none
of the cliques and small enmities which so often spoil
the enjoyment of a voyage ; some of the passengers
play and sing well; good concerts and theatricals en-
liven many of our evenings; and our only disappoint-
ment is the unkind fate which again brings us through
Madeira in the dark. And at last, one lovely April
morning—which seems to have been made on purpose

283 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM.

to welcome returning colonists, spoilt by a long con-
tinuance of Cape sunshine—we drop quietly into South-
ampton ; English violets and primroses are brought on
board in delicious profusion; the usual hurried farewells
are exchanged while most of us struggle wildly with
refractory bags and wraps; Toto, in an alarmingly
plethoric condition, waddles forth from his hen-coop ;
and very soon we are on terra firma, and—paying the
first dread penalty of the newly-landed—pass through
the ordeal of the Custom House. This turns out to be
avery lengthy and tedious business ; for, since we have
been away, new and stringent regulations have come
into force, and we find that our innocent cabin-trunks
and hand-bags are all suspected of containing dynamite.
Not until every package has been thoroughly ransacked
are we allowed to depart, and seek our train. Then
the latter bears us along through woodland scenery,
brilliant with all the fresh tints of an English spring,
which for us seems to have a new beauty. And in a
few hours we find ourselves back in old, familiar scenes ;
friends from whom we have long been parted are
round us once more; and the dear, delightful, rough
South African life is a thing of the past.

THE END.

D. APPLETON & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.

WORKS BY ARABELLA B. BUCKLEY (MRS. FISHER).

‘HE FAIR Y-LAND OF SCIENCE. With 74 Illus,
trations. Cloth, gilt, $1.50.

« Deserves to take a permanent place in the literature of youth.”—London Times,
“So interesting that, having once opened the book, we do not know how to leave
off reading.” —Saturday Keview.

ROUGH MAGIC GLASSES and other Lectures,
A Sequel to “ The Fairy-Land of Science.” Cloth, $1.50.

CONTENTS.
Tne Macician’s CHAMBER BY Moon- An Hour WITH THE Sun.

LIGHT. An EVENING WITH THE STARS.
Macic Grasses np How To Use THem. Little Beincs FROM A MINIATURE
Fairy Rings anp How ‘HEY ARE MADE. OcEAN.

Tue Lire-History oF LicH—ENns AND THE Dartmoor Ponies.

Mosses. THE Macician’s DREAM OF ANCIENT

Tue History oF A LAVA-STREAM. Days.

IFE AND HER CHILDREN: Glimpses of Ant-
mal Life from the Ameba to the Insects. With over 100 Illus-
trations. Cloth, gilt, $1.50.

“The work forms a charming introduction to the study of zodlogy—the sciencc ot
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TINNERS IN LIFE’S RACE; or, The Great
Backboned Family, With numerous Illustrations. Cloth,
gilt, $1.50.

“We can conceive no better gift-book than this volume. Miss Buckley has spared
No pains to incorporate in her book the latest results of scientific research. The illus-

trations in the book deserve the highest praise—they are numerous, accurate, and
striking.” —Sfectator.

ZF SHORT HISTORY OF NATURAL SCI-

ENCE ; and of the Progress of Discovery from the Time of

the Greeks to the Present Time. New edition, revised and re-
arranged. With 77 Illustrations. Cloth, $2 00.

“ The work, though mainly intended for children and young persons, may be most

advantageously read by many persons of riper age, and may serve to implant in their

minds a fuller and clearer conception of ‘the promises, the achievements, and claims of
acience.’”—Yournal of Science.

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EW EDITION OF
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in parchment, $1.75.

EW EDITION OF ENGLISH LYRICS. Uni-
form with ‘‘ English Odes.” With nearly Eighty
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by Louis RHEAD. I6mo, Cloth, special
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HE MUSIC SERIES.
Consisting of Biographical
and Anecdotical Sketches
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and French Composers; .
Great Singers; Great Vio-
linists and Pianists. Five “ ee
volumes, 18mo. Bound in
half white and red sides,
$3.50 per set; half calf, , |
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Geo HOUSEHOLD BOOK OF POETRY. By

Cuartes A. DANA. Entirely new edition, from new stereo-
type plates, enlarged and brought down to the present time.
With nearly Two Hundred additional poems. Illustrated with
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A CHARMING AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

[Oe LIFE OF AN ARTIST. By Ju.es Breton.
With Portrait. Translated by Mrs, MARY J. SERRANO.
rzmo. Bound in cloth, $1.50.

««. , . One of those books the success of which is assured from the first because
of its perfect naturalness. . . . The reader of Jules Breton’s memoir . . . will close
the book without having experienced one misgiving as to its entire truthfulness. From
the first page to the last his memoir will be found not merely readable, but fascinating,
and the translator has very well reproduced his charms of style, his beautiful simplicity,
and that perfume of the love of Nature which breathes through the book and ennobles
it.”’—New Vork Tribune.

“The method and spirit . . . are most delicate and delightful. . . . Filled with the
poet’s glow and the philosopher's peace.” —New York Sun.

“One understands modern France the better for this autobiography of her highly
gifted son.” —Boston Pilot.

“Jules Breton, by writing his phy, has
lovers of this class of literature.”’—Detrozt Fournal,

hy, f;

da lasting favor on the

IDOW GUTHRIE. A Novel. By RICHARD MAL-
COLM JOHNSTON. [Illustrated by E. W. KEMBLE. 12mo,
Bound in cloth, $1.50.

“Tt ts understood that Colonel $ohnston regards ‘Widow Guthrie’ as his
strongest work,”

“€One of the happi t, quail novels that have come from the press in
along time is ‘Widow Guthrie,’ a vigorous, breezy, and faithful picture of life in the
South in the days before the war. There is no lack of virility, but there is also a re-
finement which is exquisite because it is genuine, and a humor which is mellow and
sweet because it springs from a clean imagination.” Brooklyn Standard-Union.

“Tt is full of strong descriptions and curious and forcible character delineations.
There is remarkable freshness in the figures of the story. The duel and the slaying
of Duncan Guthrie are descriptive masterpieces."—New Vork Sun.

“The Widow Guthrie stands out more boldly than any other figure we know—a
figure curiously compounded of cynical hardness, blind love, and broken-hearted
pathos... . A strong and interesting study of Georgia characteristics without de-
pending upon dialect. There is just sufficient mannerism and change of speech to
give piquancy to the whole.” — Baltimore Sun.

*, , . Some remarkably vivid portraitures of character. , . . The book is one that
will please men as well as women.””—Boston Evening Gazette.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.

A New Book BY THE AUTHOR OF “A SOCIAL DEPARTURE.”

Pe AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON. By Sara
JEANNETTE Duncan. With 80 Illustrations by F. H. Town-
SEND. I2mo. Cloth, $1.50.

A brilliant book, picturing English sights, society, customs, and amuse-
ments, as seen by an unconventional and witty observer. The same quali-
ties which made ‘‘ A Social Departure” so remarkable a success will make
“An American Girl in London” a book which is ‘‘ talked about everywhere.”

“In the lighter literature of last year there was nothing more amusing than ‘A
Social Departure,’ by Sara Jeannette Duncan, of Canada. It was just long enough—
it could not well have been longer—but each reader wished that the author might write
another book in similar style. Well, she has done it, and she could not have taken a
better subject than ‘An American Girl in London.’ ""—NMew York Herald,

“(The raciness and breeziness which made ‘A Social Departure,’ by the same au-
thor, last season, the best-read and most talked-of book of travel for many a year,
permeates the new book, and appears between the lines of every page. It is super-
fluous to say that ‘An American Girl’ is ‘awfully fetching.’ "—Brcooklyn Standard-
Union,

SOCIAL DEPARTURE: How Orthodocia and I
Went Round the World by Ourselves. By SARA JEANNETTE
Duncan. Illustrated by F. H. TownsenD. 12mo. Cloth, $1.75.

“Itis a cheery, witty, decorous, charming book.”"—New York Herald.

“ Widely read and praised on both sides of the Atlantic and Pacific, the diary is
now republished in New York, with scores of illustrations which fit the text exactly
and show the mind of artist and writer in unison.” —New York Evening Post.

**, . . It is to be doubted whether another book can be found so thoroughly amus-
ing from beginning to end.” —Boston Daily Advertiser. +

“A very bright book on a very entertaining subject. We commend it to those
readers who abhor the ordinary statistical book of travels.”’—Boston Evening Ti an-
script.

‘A brighter, merrier, more entirely charming 00k would be, indeed, difficult to
find.” —St Louis Republican.

“For sparkling wit, irresistibly contagious fun, keen observation, absolutely poetic

appreciation of natural beauty, and vivid descriptiveness, it has no recent rival.”—
Mrs. P. T. Barnum’s Letter to the Mew York Tribune.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.

SUMMER READING.

UTINGS AT ODD TIMES. By Cuarwes C. ABBOTT.
16mo. Cloth, gilt top, $1.25.

“Dr. Abbott's love and enthusiasm for Nature, and the things and creatures of Nat-
ure, knows no limit. The story they have to tell him is always new, always charm-
ing; and he interprets it with an enthusiasm and eloquence that carry conviction to his
readers." —Providence Yournal.

“A number of short studies of Nature in her outdoor aspects by one who has es-
tablished a reputation as a close and sympathetic student and naturalist. He finds
somewhat of interest and beauty in each season, and reveals to less observant eyes
many of the curiosities and wonders of the living world about us.” —Harfford Courant,

“Short essays on outdoor life set in charming shape.” —Philadelphia Times.

WE WHITE MOUNTAINS. A Guide to their
Interpretation, With a Map of the Mountains and Ten Illustra-
tions. By Rev. Jutius H. WARD. 1I2mo. Cloth, gilt top, $1.25

Mr. Ward has spent his summer vacations in the White Mountains for several
years, and has entered deeply into their life and meaning. This book is both a guide
to a better knowledge of the White Hills and a souvenir of what one finds in them.
“ Nature,” says the author, ‘‘in these retreats is very coy, and her secrets are only
communicated to those who seek them. The ability to enjoy naturaMscenery is partly
a gift, but it may be immensely increased by habits of observation.”

“The author is thoroughly in love with his subject, and not Jess thoroughly ac-
quainted with it. Though he disclaims intention to write a guide-book, the visitor to
the White Mountains can hardly fail to profit by his picturesque descriptions, hints
about paths and points of view, and abundant suggestions as to times and seasons.””
—New York Tribune.

HE GARDEN’S STORY ; or, Pleasures and Trials
of an Amateur Gardener. By GEORGE H. ELLWANGER. With
Head and Tail Pieces by Rhead. 12mo. Cloth, extra, $1.50.

A literary ramble amid the flowers of the garden, with practical hints upon the cul-
tivation of plants, and gossipy comments upon the characteristics of favorite flowers.

“ Mr. Ellwanger’s instinct rarely errs in matters of taste. He writes out of the full-
ness of experimental knowledge, but his knowledge differs from that of many a trained
cultivator in that his skill in garden practice is guided by a refined zsthetic sensibility,
and his appreciation of what is beautiful in nature is healthy, hearty, and catholic. His
record of the garden year as we have said, begins with the earliest violet, and it follows
the season through until the witch-hazel is blossoming on the border of the wintry
woods. . . . This little book can not fail to give pleasure to all who take a genuine in-
terest in rural life.”—New Vork Tribune,

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street,

D. APPLETON & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.

STRONOMY WITH AN OPERA-GLASS.
A Popular Introduction to the Study of the Starry Heavens
with the Simplest of Optical Instruments. By GarRReiT P.
SERviss. 8vo. Cloth, $1.50.

This is a unique book, quite alone in the field that it occupies. The call for a
fourth edition within two years after its first publication attests its popularity. As one
of its reviewers has said, ‘‘It is the most Azan book on the subject of the stars.”
It would have supplied Thomas Carlyle’s want when he wrote, ‘‘ Why did not some-
body teach me the stars and make me at home in the starry heavens?” Interest in
the geography of the heavens is increasing every year, as the discoveries of astrono-
mers with the giant telescopes of our day push back the limits of the known universe,
and this book is to those who read of such discoveries like an atlas to the student of
history.

Some of the compliments that the book has received are these:

“‘A most interesting and even fascinating book.”—Christian Union,

__ “The glimpses he allows to be seen of far-stretching vistas opening out on every
side of his modest course of observation help to fix the attention of the negligent, and
lighten the toil of the painstaking student. . . . Mr. Serviss writes with freshness and
vivacity.”"—London Saturday Review.

““We are glad to welcome this, the second edition, of a popular introduction to the
study of the heavens. .. . There could hardly be a more pleasant road to astro-
nomical knowledge than it affords. . . . A child may understand the text, which reads
more like a collection of anecdotes than anything else, but this does not mar its sci-
entific value.” —Nature.

“Mr, Garrett P. Serviss’s book, ‘ Astronomy with an Opera-Glass,’ offers us an
admirable hand-book and guide in the cultivation of this noble esthetic discipline (the
study of the stars).”—New Vork Home Fournal.

“The book should belong to every family library.” —Boston Home Fournal.

“ This book ought to make star-gazing popular."—New Vork Herald.

“The author attributes much of the indifference of otherwise well-informed per-
sons regarding the wonders of the starry firmament to the fact that telescopes are avail-
able to few, and that most people have no idea of the possibilities of the more familiar
instrument of almost daily use whose powers he sets forth.”—NMew Orleans Times-
Democrat.

* By its aid thousands of people who have resigned themselves to the ignorance in
which they were left at school, by our wretched system of teaching by the book only,
will thank Mr. Serviss for the suggestions he has so well carried out.”’—Mew York
Times. i

‘© For amateur use this book is easily the best treatise on astronomy yet published ”
—Chicago Herald.

“«« Astronomy with an Opera-Glass’ fills a long-felt want.” —A lbany Fournal,

“No intelligent reajer of this book but will feel that if the authcr fails to set his
public star-gazing the fault is not his, for his style is as winning, as graphic, and as
clear as the delightful type in which it is printed.” —Providence Fournal.

“Mr. Serviss neither talks over the heads of his readers nor ignores the sublime
complexity and range of his themes, but unites simplicity with scrolarship, scientific
precision with life-long enthusi and a genuine eloquence with rare touches of hu-
mor. Considered as a product of the publishing industry, the book is elegance itself.”
—The Chautauquan.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D, APPLETON & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.

FICTION SERIES FOR YOUNG READERS,

A sertes of Stories elaborately illustrated, which includes
I

ROWDED OUT O' CROFIELD, By Wit1am O.
Stropparp. Illustrated by C, T. HILL.
How a plucky country boy made his way. .One of the most successful
of this popular author’s stories,
Il.

ING TOM AND THE RUNAWAYS. By Louts
PENDLETON. Illustrated by E. W. KEmBLE,

The strange experiences of two boys in the forests and swamps of
Georgia.
Ill.

‘HE LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE ON THE Co-
LUMBIA. A Tale of the Pioneers of the Great Northwest.
By HezEKIAH BUTTERWORTH, author of “Zigzag Journeys.”
Illustrated.

In a story romantic, exciting, and instructive as well, the author intro-

duces his readers to a new field which will prove to be one of absorbing
interest.

Also stories by OCTAVE THANET, RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON, and
other well-known authors, which will be published shortly.

The series, bound in cloth, with specially designed uniform cover.
Per volume, $1.50.

FIRST VOLUME IN THE SERIES OF THE YOUNG HEROES
OF OUR NAVY.

gos JARVIS. By Mou.y Evtiort SEAwELL. Illus-

trated by J. O. Davipson and GEORGE WHARTON EDWARDS.
The story of the heroic midshipman of the frigate Constellation.
The second of the Youth's Companion prize stories. LBound in
cloth, with specially designed cover. 8vo, $1.00.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.

RECENT IsSUES IN APPLETONS’ TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY,

HE NUGENTS OF CARRICONNA. An Irish
Story. By TIGHE HopkKINs. 1I2mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth,
75 cents,

* An extremely racy Irish story, quite separated from everything that savors of the
present agitation in Ireland, and one of the best things of the kind for several years.”
—Springfield Republican.

i SENSITIVE PLANT. A novel by E. and D. Ge-
RARD, joint authors of “ Reata,” ‘The Waters of Hercules,”
etc. r2mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents.

** An agreeable and amusing love-story, the scene of which is part of the time in a
coal-mining district in Scotland, and afterward in Venice, and a prominent character
in which is a shrinking girl whose sensitiveness is suggestive of the little mimosa flower
which gives title to the book.” ——Cincinnati Times-Star.

Ly A LUZ. By Don Juan VALERA. Translated by Mrs.
Mary J. SERRANO. 12mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00.

**A triumph of skillful execution as well as of profound conception of modern
Spanish character and: social life. It is full of the best traditions of Spanish thought,
both sacred and secular, of Spanish proverbial wisdom, and of the humor of Cervantes
and other lights of the past in the literature of Spain.” —Brooklyn Lagle.

yo TA XIMENEZ. By Don JuAN VALERA. Trans-
lated by Mrs. Mary J. SERRANO. 12mo. Paper, 50 cents;
cloth, $1.00.

“A very striking and powerful novel.”""—Boston Transcript.

“© «One of the jewels of literary Spain’ is what a Spanish critic has pronounced the
most popular book of recent years in that language, Don Juan Valera’s novel ‘ Pepita
Ximenez.’ "’—Zhe Natzon.

‘TTHE PRIMES AND THEIR NEIGHBORS.

Ten Tales of Middle Georgia. By RICHARD MALCOLM

* JouNsToN, author of “ Widow Guthrie.” I2mo. Paper, 50
cents; cloth, $1.25.

«The best of Southern tales.”—Chicago Herald,

“‘The thorough 11 of Col. Jot ’s work is well known. He was among
the first of the successful short-story writers of this country. The steady increase in
his fame is the best indication of the solid appreciation of the reading public. This
public will give the new volume the same reception that made ‘ Widow Guthrie’ one of
the most successful of recent novels,”’"—Baltimore American.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.

RecENT Issues IN APPLETONS’ TOWN AND CouNTRY LIBRARY,

‘HE IRON GAMLZ. By Henry F. Krenan, author of
“Trajan,” “The Aliens,” etc. 1r2mo. Paper, 50 cents;
cloth, $1.00.

“An entertaining romance which covers the time from just before the war until soon
after the peace. Six young people carry on their love-making under countless diffi-
culties, owing to two of them being on the wrong side of the ‘unpleasantness.’ Of
course, there are all sorts of adventures, plots, misunderstandings, and wonderful
escapes. . . . The book is written in excellent taste.” —Prtishurgh Bulletin.

he assures OF OLD NEW SPAIN. By Tuomas A.
JANVIER. 12mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00.

‘The author does for the Mexicans much what Longfellow has done for the
Acadians.”"—.Vew York Commercial Advertiser.

“Mr, Janvier has evidently explored the ancient ruins and studied the old church
records thoroughly, and has drawn therefrom much hitherto unused material.” —Cin-
cinnatt Times-Star.

* Another lot of those tales of Mexico, which their author, Thomas A Janvier,
knows how to write with such skill and charm. Nine of the stoies are delightful, and
nine is the number of stories in the book.”—New York Sun.

7 HE MAID OF HONOR. By the Hon. Lewis Winc-
FIELD. 1I2mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents.

“A story of France just before, during, and after the Reign of Terror. There are
not many novels in our language which portray rural conditions in France in this
troubled period, and this has a unique interest for that reason.”—Chizcago Times.

“A very graphic story of those troublous times which witnessed the temporary
triumphs of ‘the people.’”’—Rochester Herald.

«It may safely be said that up to the last page . . . the reader’s attention is not
allowed to flag.” —London Atheneum.

N THE HEART OF THE STORM. By Max-
WELL GREY, author of “The Silence of Dean Maitland.”
1zmo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents.

“ The plot is compact, deftly constructed, free from extravagances and violent im-
probabilities, with a well-managed element of suspense running nearly to the end, and
strongly illustrative throughout of English life and character: The book is likely to
add materially to the author's well-earned repute.” —Chicago Times.

Ce SEQUENCES. By Eczrron Castle. 12mo, Paper,
50 cents ; cloth, $1.00.

“Tt is a real pleasure to welcome a new novelist who shows both promise and per-
formance. . . . The work is distinguished by verve, by close and wide observation of
the ways and cities of many men, by touches of a reflection which is neither shallow
nor charged with the trappings and suits of weightiness; and in many ways, not least
in the striking end, it is decidedly original.”—Saturday Review.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street..

D. APPLETON & CO.’S PUBLICATIONS.

HE WHITE MOUNTAINS: A Guide to their
Interpretation. With a Map of the Mountains and Ten IIlus-
trations. By Rev. Jutius H. WARD. 12mo. Cloth, gilt top,

$1.25.

‘« Books descriptive of the White Mountains are too few. Any lover of the Granite
Hills will gladly welcome this valuable addition to White Mountain literature, both for
the pleasure he himself will derive from its perusal, and for the good it will do in excit-
ing an interest in the minds of strangers. So far as we know, Mr, Ward’s is only the
sixth of such books. . . . If we were to attempt to classify Mr. Ward’s book, we should
place it along with that of Starr King, for its sympathetic treatment of the subject. It
seems to us, however, to occupy a place not filled by any of them, and to share the
merits of all. It is not a guide-book, and yet its systematic arrangement and the in-
telligent hints in its preliminary chapters give it a real vaiue as a guide to the tourist.”
—Rev. IrHAaMAR W. Bearp, in White Mountain Echo.

*«Mr. Ward’s aim has been something apart from the aims of those who have gone
before him. He has sought to write neither a guide-book nor an itinerary. He aimed
not at mere description, nor did he permit his imagination alone to guide his pen.
His was rather a sympathetic and intelligent attempt to interpret for the contemplative
mind the great lessons which these impressive elevations are capable of imparting to
men. .. . Mr. Ward’s sympathy with his subject is keen and alive. He writes as
one who loves Nature profoundly. ‘lhe faith and devotion of such students we are
assured that she never betrays. His in truth is a volume to carry along with one to
the mountain and to open and read anywhere, It is also a volume to read at home.
Even those who have not in years looked upon those glorious pageants of mountain-
tops and moving clouds will find it of great interest and of much practical service in re-
calling their early impressions and suggesting new ones.""—New ] ork Times.

“The author of ‘The White Mountains’ is a mountain enthusiast possessing keen
poetic conception, the hardihood of a mountaineer, and the especial knowledge of a
mountain guide. He, therefore, thoroughly covers his chosen field. Little or nothing
is left to any future gleaner; for he has studied this region in all its summer moods and
winter tenses, from North Conway to the retreat to I.onesome Lake, from the great
wall of the Glen to the heart of the wilderness, from little Jackson Valley to wild-
wooded Moosilauke, and the interest of the author is soon communicated to the reader,
so that he feels, if he has once visited this region, that he must go again with this book
in his hand, to look with wider eyes and finer intelligence, to dream with poets and
think with sages.” —The New York Home Yournal.

“ The volume, although it covers familiar ground, is unique in its plan and treat-
ment, and opens up a new and wonderful source of enjoyment to the lover of natural
scenery. It humanizes Nature, or, rather, it brings the single individual soul into
communion with that vast and universal soul which pervades the material universe.”’—
Boston Transcript.

“Description of the perpetually changing mountain view (assisted by ten good
photogravures), and interpretation of it after the manner of the poet and the believer
in the Divine Immanence, are the two offices which Mr. Ward has so successfully dis-
charged that his volume will become a classic on the White Mountains.” —Literary

orld,

“Tt furnishes a great deal of practical information which will be of inestimable
service.”—Boston Gazette.

“The book is replete with noble thoughts expressed in language of exquisite
beauty.” —New Vork Observer. €

“The author is thoroughly in love with his subject and not less thoroughly acquaint-
ed with i.”—New Vork Tribune.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.