The Jabbering Of Dutch Brings To Mind
Demosthenes Trying To Outroar A Stormy Sea With His Mouth Full Of
Pebbles.
The hardest blows are those given with the tongue, though
much pulling of hair and scuffling takes place.
'Verdomde
Schmeerlap!' - 'Donder and Bliksem! am I a verdomde Schmeerlap?' -
'Ja, u is,' &c., &c. I could not help laughing heartily as I lay
in bed, at hearing the gambols of these Titan cubs; for this is a
boer's notion of enjoying himself. This morning, I hear, the
street was strewn with the hair they had pulled out of each other's
heads. All who come here make love to S-; not by describing their
tender feelings, but by enumerating the oxen, sheep, horses, land,
money, &c., of which they are possessed, and whereof, by the law of
this colony, she would become half-owner on marriage. There is a
fine handsome Van Steen, who is very persevering; but S- does not
seem to fancy becoming Mevrouw at all. The demand for English
girls as wives is wonderful here. The nasty cross little ugly
Scotch maid has had three offers already, in one fortnight!
February 18th. - I expect to receive the letters by the English mail
to-morrow morning, and to go to Worcester on Thursday. On Saturday
the young doctor - good-humoured, jolly, big, young Dutchman - drove
me, with his pretty little greys, over to two farms; at one I ate
half a huge melon, and at the other, uncounted grapes. We poor
Europeans don't know what fruit CAN BE, I must admit. The melon
was a foretaste of paradise, and the grapes made one's fingers as
sticky as honey, and had a muscat fragrance quite inconceivable.
They looked like amber eggs. The best of it is, too, that in this
climate stomach-aches are not. We all eat grapes, peaches, and
figs, all day long. Old Klein sends me, for my own daily
consumption, about thirty peaches, three pounds of grapes, and
apples, pears, and figs besides - 'just a little taste of fruits';
only here they will pick it all unripe.
February 19th. - The post came in late last night, and old Klein
kindly sent me my letters at near midnight. The post goes out this
evening, and the hot wind is blowing, so I can only write to you,
and a line to my mother. I feel really better now. I think the
constant eating of grapes has done me much good.
The Dutch cart-owner was so extortionate, that I am going to wait a
few days, and write to my dear Malay to come up and drive me back.
It is better than having to fight the Dutch monopolist in every
village, and getting drunken drivers and bad carts after all. I
shall go round all the same. The weather has been beautiful; to-
day there is a wind, which comes about two or three times in the
year: it is not depressing, but hot, and a bore, because one must
shut every window or be stifled with dust.
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