He Said He Was A 'Scotch Bastaard', And 'le
Bon Sang Parlait - Tres-Haut Meme', For A More Thriving, Shrewd,
Sensible Fellow I Never Saw.
His FATHER and master had had to let
him go when all slaves were emancipated, and he had come to
Gnadenthal.
He keeps a little inn in the village, and a shop and a
fine garden. The cottage we lodged in was on the mountain side,
and had been built for his son, who was dead; and his adopted
daughter, a pretty coloured girl, exactly like a southern
Frenchwoman, waited on us, assisted by about six or seven other
women, who came chiefly to stare. Vrouw Rietz was as black as a
coal, but SO pretty! - a dear, soft, sleek, old lady, with beautiful
eyes, and the kind pleasant ways which belong to nice blacks; and,
though old and fat, still graceful and lovely in face, hands, and
arms. The cottage was thus:- One large hall; my bedroom on the
right, S-'s on the left; the kitchen behind me; Miss Rietz behind
S-; mud floors daintily washed over with fresh cow-dung; ceiling of
big rafters, just as they had grown, on which rested bamboo canes
close together ACROSS the rafters, and bound together between each,
with transverse bamboo - a pretty BEEHIVEY effect; at top, mud
again, and then a high thatched roof and a loft or zolder for
forage, &c.; the walls of course mud, very thick and whitewashed.
The bedrooms tiny; beds, clean sweet melies (maize) straw, with
clean sheets, and eight good pillows on each; glass windows (a
great distinction), exquisite cleanliness, and hearty civility;
good food, well cooked; horrid tea and coffee, and hardly any milk;
no end of fruit.
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