It Was The Most Wonderful Display Of
Activity And Grace, And Quite Incredible That Such A Huge Fellow
Should Be So Quick And Light.
When I found how comfortable dear
old Mrs. Rietz made me, I was sorry I had hired the cart
And kept
it to take me home, for I would gladly have stayed longer, and the
heat did me no harm; but I did not like to throw away a pound or
two, and drove back that evening. Mrs. Rietz, told me her mother
was a Mozambiquer. 'And your father?' said I. 'Oh, I don't know.
MY MOTHER WAS ONLY A SLAVE.' She, too, was a slave, but said she
'never knew it', her 'missus' was so good; a Dutch lady, at a farm
I had passed, on the road, who had a hundred and fifty slaves. I
liked my Hottentot hut amazingly, and the sweet brown bread, and
the dinner cooked so cleanly on the bricks in the kitchen. The
walls were whitewashed and adorned with wreaths of everlasting
flowers and some quaint old prints from Loutherburg - pastoral
subjects, not exactly edifying.
Well, I have prosed unconscionably, so adieu for the present.
February 3d. - Many happy returns of your birthday, dear -. I had a
bottle of champagne to drink your health, and partly to swell the
bill, which these good people make so moderate, that I am half
ashamed. I get everything that Caledon can furnish for myself and
S- for 15l. a month.
On Saturday we got the sad news of Prince Albert's death, and it
created real consternation here. What a thoroughly unexpected
calamity! Every one is already dressed in deep mourning. It is
more general than in a village of the same size at home - (how I
have caught the colonial trick of always saying 'home' for England!
Dutchmen who can barely speak English, and never did or will see
England, equally talk of 'news from home'). It also seems, by the
papers of the 24th of December, which came by a steamer the other
day, that war is imminent. I shall have to wait for convoy, I
suppose, as I object to walking the plank from a Yankee privateer.
I shall wait here for the next mail, and then go back to Capetown,
stopping by the way, so as to get there early in March, and arrange
for my voyage. The weather had a relapse into cold, and an attempt
at rain. Pity it failed, for the drought is dreadful this year,
chiefly owing to the unusual quantity of sharp drying winds - a most
unlucky summer for the country and for me.
My old friend Klein, who told me several instances of the kindness
and gratitude of former slaves, poured out to me the misery he had
undergone from the 'ingratitude' of a certain Rosina, a slave-girl
of his. She was in her youth handsome, clever, the best
horsebreaker, bullock-trainer and driver, and hardest worker in the
district. She had two children by Klein, then a young fellow; six
by another white man, and a few more by two husbands of her own
race! But she was of a rebellious spirit, and took to drink.
After the emancipation, she used to go in front of Klein's windows
and read the statute in a loud voice on every anniversary of the
day; and as if that did not enrage him enough, she pertinaciously
(whenever she was a little drunk) kissed him by main force every
time she met him in the street, exclaiming, 'Aha! when I young and
pretty slave-girl you make kiss me then; now I ugly, drunk, dirty
old devil and free woman, I kiss you!' Frightful retributive
justice! I struggled hard to keep my countenance, but the fat old
fellow's good-humoured, rueful face was too much for me. His
tormentor is dead, but he retains a painful impression of her
'ingratitude '.
Our little Mantatee 'Kleenboy' has again, like Jeshurun, 'waxed fat
and kicked', as soon as he had eaten enough to be once more plump
and shiny. After his hungry period, he took to squatting on the
stoep, just in front of the hall-door, and altogether declining to
do anything; so he is superseded by an equally ugly little red-
headed Englishman. The Irish housemaid has married the German
baker (a fine match for her!), and a dour little Scotch
Presbyterian has come up from Capetown in her place. Such are the
vicissitudes of colonial house-keeping! The only 'permanency' is
the old soldier of Captain D-'s regiment, who is barman in the
canteen, and not likely to leave 'his honour', and the coloured
girl, who improves on acquaintance. She wants to ingratiate
herself with me, and get taken to England. Her father is an
Englishman, and of course the brown mother and her large family
always live in the fear of his 'going home' and ignoring their
existence; a MARRIAGE with the mother of his children would be too
much degradation for him to submit to. Few of the coloured people
are ever married, but they don't separate oftener than REALLY
married folks. Bill, the handsome West Indian black, married my
pretty washerwoman Rosalind, and was thought rather assuming
because he was asked in church and lawfully married; and she wore a
handsome lilac silk gown and a white wreath and veil, and very well
she looked in them. She had a child of two years old, which did
not at all disconcert Bill; but he continues to be dignified, and
won't let her go and wash clothes in the river, because the hot sun
makes her ill, and it is not fit work for women.
Sunday, 9th. - Last night a dance took place in a house next door to
this, and a party of boers attempted to go in, but were repulsed by
a sortie of the young men within. Some of the more peaceable boers
came in here and wanted ale, which was refused, as they were
already very vinous; so they imbibed ginger-beer, whereof one drank
thirty-four bottles to his own share!
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