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 '.
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