They
Declined Beer, Or Meat Which Had Been Unlawfully Killed.
In
Capetown ALL meat is killed by Malays, and has the proper prayer
spoken over it, and they will eat no other.
I was offered a fowl
at a farm, but Choslullah thought it 'too much money for Missus',
and only accepted some eggs. He was gratified at my recognising
the propriety of his saying 'Bismillah' over any animal killed for
food. Some drink beer, and drink a good deal, but Choslullah
thought it 'very wrong for Malay people, and not good for Christian
people, to be drunk beasties; - little wine or beer good for
Christians, but not too plenty much.' I gave him ten shillings for
himself, at which he was enchanted, and again begged me to write to
his master for him when I wanted to leave Caledon, and to be sure
to say, 'Mind send same coachman.' He planned to drive me back
through Worcester, Burnt Vley, Paarl, and Stellenbosch - a longer
round; but he could do it in three days well, so as 'not cost
Missus more money', and see a different country.
This place is curiously like Rochefort in the Ardennes, only the
hills are mountains, and the sun is far hotter; not so the air,
which is fresh and pleasant. I am in a very nice inn, kept by an
English ex-officer, who went through the Caffre war, and found his
pay insufficient for the wants of a numerous family. I quite
admire his wife, who cooks, cleans, nurses her babes, gives singing
and music lessons, - all as merrily as if she liked it. I dine with
them at two o'clock, and Captain D- has a table d'hote at seven for
travellers. I pay only 10s. 6d. a day for myself and S-; this
includes all but wine or beer. The air is very clear and fine, and
my cough is already much better. I shall stay here as long as it
suits me and does me good, and then I am to send for Choslullah
again, and go back by the road he proposed. It rains here now and
then, and blows a good deal, but the wind has lost its bitter
chill, and depressing quality. I hope soon to ride a little and
see the country, which is beautiful.
The water-line is all red from the iron stone, and there are hot
chalybeate springs up the mountain which are very good for
rheumatism, and very strengthening, I am told. The boots here is a
Mantatee, very black, and called Kleenboy, because he is so little;
he is the only sleek black I have seen here, but looks heavy and
downcast. One maid is Irish (they make the best servants here), a
very nice clean girl, and the other, a brown girl of fifteen, whose
father is English, and married to her mother. Food here is scarce,
all but bread and mutton, both good. Butter is 3s. a pound; fruit
and vegetables only to be had by chance. I miss the oranges and
lemons sadly. Poultry and milk uncertain. The bread is good
everywhere, from the fine wheat: in the country it is brownish and
sweet. The wine here is execrable; this is owing to the prevailing
indolence, for there is excellent wine made from the Rhenish grape,
rather like Sauterne, with a soupcon of Manzanilla flavour. The
sweet Constantia is also very good indeed; not the expensive sort,
which is made from grapes half dried, and is a liqueur, but a
light, sweet, straw-coloured wine, which even I liked. We drank
nothing else at the Admiral's. The kind old sailor has given me a
dozen of wine, which is coming up here in a waggon, and will be
most welcome. I can't tell you how kind he and Lady Walker were; I
was there three weeks, and hope to go again when the south-easter
season is over and I can get out a little. I could not leave the
house at all; and even Lady Walker and the girls, who are very
energetic, got out but little. They are a charming family.
I have no doubt that Dr. Shea was right, and that one must leave
the coast to get a fine climate. Here it seems to me nearly
perfect - too windy for my pleasure, but then the sun would be
overpowering without a fresh breeze. Every one agrees in saying
that the winter in Capetown is delicious - like a fine English
summer. In November the southeasters begin, and they are
'fiendish'; this year they began in September. The mornings here
are always fresh, not to say cold; the afternoons, from one to
three, broiling; then delightful till sunset, which is deadly cold
for three-quarters of an hour; the night is lovely. The wind rises
and falls with the sun. That is the general course of things. Now
and then it rains, and this year there is a little south-easter,
which is quite unusual, and not odious, as it is near the sea; and
there is seldom a hot wind from the north. I am promised that on
or about Christmas-day; then doors and windows are shut, and you
gasp. Hitherto we have had nothing nearly so hot as Paris in
summer, or as the summer of 1859 in England; and they say it is no
hotter, except when the hot wind blows, which is very rare. Up
here, snow sometimes lies, in winter, on the mountain tops; but ice
is unknown, and Table Mountain is never covered with snow. The
flies are pestilent - incredibly noisy, intrusive, and disgusting -
and oh, such swarms! Fleas and bugs not half so bad as in France,
as far as my experience goes, and I have poked about in queer
places.
I get up at half-past five, and walk in the early morning, before
the sun and wind begin to be oppressive; it is then dry, calm, and
beautiful; then I sleep like a Dutchman in the middle of the day.
At present it tires me, but I shall get used to it soon.
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