OUR SERVANTS.
A retrospective vision--Phillis in her domain--Her destructiveness--
Her ideas on personal adornment--The woes of a mistress--Eye-service
--Abrupt departure of Phillis--Left in the lurch--Nancy and her
successors--Cure of sham sickness--The thief's dose--Our ostrich-herd
--A bride purchased with cows--English and natives at the Cape--
Character of Zulus and Kaffirs.
"Man's work is from sun to sun,
But woman's work is never done."
It is always amusing, for those who have tried housekeeping in South
Africa, to hear people in England talk of their "bad" servants.
Ladies--who, after the short quarter of an hour devoted to interviewing
the cook and giving the day's orders, need trouble themselves no more
throughout the twenty-four hours as to the carrying out of those
orders, but are free to pursue their own occupations, uninterrupted by
a constant need of superintending those of their domestics,--sit in
their beautifully-kept drawing-rooms or at their well-appointed
dining-tables,--whose spotless linen and bright glass and silver are
so delicious a novelty to eyes long accustomed to the Karroo's
rough-and-ready backwoods style,--and, much to your surprise, complain
bitterly of the unsatisfactory parlour-maid, or are pathetic over the
iniquities of the cook who has just sent up a faultless little dinner.
When any one, thus blissfully unconscious of what a really bad servant
is, appeals to the lady colonist for sympathy, the unfeeling reply
of the latter not unfrequently is: "You should try South African
servants!" And instantly, before the mind's eye of that lady colonist,
there arises a retrospective vision of the average "coloured help" of
Cape farms; that yellow Hottentot or dark-skinned Kaffir, attired in a
scanty and ragged cotton dress; her woolly head surmounted by a
battered and not always over-clean _kappje_ (sun-bonnet), or tied up in
a red and yellow handkerchief of the loudest pattern, twisted into an
ugly little tight turban. She stands, in the bright morning sunshine,
against a background of dirty dishes and uncleaned saucepans, left
neglected since last evening's meal; and of the comfort and advantage
to herself of cleaning which before the adhering remnants of contents
have dried and hardened it is absolutely impossible to convince her.
Dogs, fowls, turkeys, and little pigs, in company with all the pet
animals of the family and an occasional young ostrich, are kindly
acting the part of scavengers on her unswept kitchen floor; where they
are _habitués_, her wastefulness and untidiness affording them so good
a living that they have grown bold, and, refusing to get out of your
way, get under your feet and trip you up at every turn if you are rash
enough to enter the dirty domain of their protectress. The latter, like
some malevolent goddess, is surrounded by an atmosphere of most
evil-smelling fumes, prominent among which is the paraffin with which,
to save herself trouble, she liberally feeds the fire every time it
becomes low; while the dense smoke and steam arising from several pots
and saucepans on the stove proclaim the contents to be in various
stages of burning,--the climax being reached by what was once the soup,
but of which nothing now remains but a few dried and charred fragments
of bone, tightly adhering to an utterly ruined pot--new last week. In
answer to all expostulation the doer of the mischief has no word of
regret or apology, but, taking the occurrence as a matter of course,
shows all her even white teeth in a bright, good-tempered smile, as she
says, "Yes, missis, de soup is burnt."
Then still more horrible whiffs assail you, viz., the combined odours
of the various articles of food which she has put away, carefully
covered up in jars and tins, where she has forgotten them; and where,
in the close atmosphere of her stuffy kitchen, with the thermometer at
100°, they have promptly gone bad. She has no "nose"; and, though her
kitchen may be pervaded with odours which knock you down, she remains
smiling and contented, and needs to be informed of the fact that there
is a bad smell before she will set to work--with great surprise--to
hunt out the cause of it; too often revealing sights which make you
shudder.
If it is anywhere near a meal-time, her fire is sure to be very low, if
not out altogether; she has, of course, forgotten to tell the men,
before starting for the camps in the morning, to chop wood for her
day's needs; and as they, like all the coloured race, never perform the
most every-day duty unless specially reminded, she has to do this work
herself, with much difficulty and dawdling; the luncheon or dinner
being accordingly delayed indefinitely. If, on the contrary, it is
between meals, and no cooking will be required for several hours, there
is a roaring fire, over the hottest part of which the chances are ten
to one that you will find the empty kettle; while you are fortunate
indeed if in your immediate and anxious investigation of the boiler you
are yet in time to avert irretrievable damage.
Any dirty water or refuse which is thrown away at all is flung just
outside the kitchen door, where it lies in unsightly heaps and pools,
attracting myriads of flies; a plentiful sprinkling of which, needless
to state, find their way, in a drowned, boiled, baked, roast or fried
condition, into every article of food sent to table. Occasionally a
teaspoon is tossed out among the rubbish, and lies glittering in the
sunshine, ready to tempt the first ostrich that happens to prowl past
the door. A very frequent counting of plate is necessary; and indeed,
with such careless and not always honest servants, it is best to have
no silver in daily use.
Breakages are ruinously numerous; each rough-handed Phillis in
succession having her own private hiding-place, generally in the middle
of some large bush, where--in spite of the standing promise that any
accident honestly confessed will receive instant pardon--the fragments
of all the glass, earthenware, and china destroyed through her
carelessness are quietly put away out of sight, and, as she hopes, out
of mind. Then perhaps, one day, having a little time to spare, you are
looking about among the bushes to find out where the white turkey lays,
and suddenly see, gleaming out through the dark foliage, what you at
first take for a goodly number of the expected eggs. But alas! on
closer investigation you recognize the familiar patterns of your pretty
breakfast and dinner services; chosen carefully in England, with bright
anticipations of the colonial home for which they were destined. For a
long time their number has been mysteriously but steadily decreasing;
till now there are but two soup-plates left, the cracked and chipped
vegetable-dishes cannot among them boast of one handle, and the tureen,
being without a lid, has to be covered ignominiously with a plate.
Egg-cups there are none, and their places have long been supplied--not
altogether unsuccessfully--by napkin-rings.
Constant relays of cups and saucers, as well as of glasses, are needed
from Port Elizabeth; a dozen of either lasting but a very short time in
the coloured girl's destructive hands. Opportunities of getting things
sent up to the farm do not present themselves every week; and to be
provided, at one and the same time, with a sufficient supply of both
glass and china is as unheard-of a state of affluence as was the
possession, by poor Mr. Wilfer, of a hat and a complete suit of clothes
all new together. An influx of unexpected visitors is sure to arrive at
the time of greatest deficiency; and the wine at dinner often has to be
poured into a motley collection of drinking-vessels, among which
breakfast and tea-cups, in a sadly saucerless and handleless condition,
largely predominate over glasses. Another time it is the china which is
conspicuous by its absence; a large party of strangers who have
out-spanned at the dam are asked in to rest for an hour or two on their
journey, and the hostess finds herself obliged to hand the afternoon
tea to her guests in tumblers.
The linen fares no better at the hands of Phillis than does the china.
The best table-cloths and most delicate articles of clothing are
invariably hung to dry, either on ungalvanized wires which streak them
with iron-mould, or on the thorniest bushes available, from whose cruel
hooks, pointing in all directions, it is impossible to free them
without many a rent. You spend much time and trouble over the work of
extricating them, remonstrate with Phillis for the hundredth time on
her rough treatment of them, and soon after, passing again, find that,
all having been spread out on the stony ground near the dam, right in
the path of the ostriches coming up from the water, numerous muddy
impressions of large, two-toed feet crossing and recrossing the linen
necessitate the whole wash being done over again. Although a
clothes-line and pegs are provided, they are contemptuously ignored,
and--the latter especially--never used except under the closest
supervision; thus handkerchiefs, socks, and all the lighter articles of
wearing-apparel are allowed to go flying away across the veldt; where,
on long rides, you occasionally recognize fragments of them flapping
about dismally on the bushes.
A strict watch has to be kept on the table-napkins, or they are sure to
be carried to the kitchen and pressed into the dirtiest of service as
dish-cloths, lamp-cleaners, etc. However many kitchen-cloths and
dusters may have been given out, you never find one which is fit to
touch; nor, until experience has taught you to keep the paraffin and
its attendant rags under lock and key, and yourself to superintend the
cleaning and filling of the lamps, is there one cloth which does not
communicate the smell and flavour of the oil to every plate, cup, and
glass brought to table. Every cloth is saturated with grease, all have
large holes burnt in them, and a good many have been deliberately torn
into quarters, or into whatever smaller sizes Phillis may have judged
convenient for her ends. She has spared only those which, with their
broad pink-and-white borders--with "Teacloth" in large letters, and a
little teapot in each corner--have pleased her eye, and struck her as
suitable adornments for her person; and which accordingly you often
find twisted round the woolly head in place of the red and yellow
turban, or gracefully draped on neck and shoulders as a _fichu_.
Like other daughters of Eve, she possesses her due amount of vanity,
and has her own ideas--though they are sometimes strange ones--on the
subject of improving her personal appearance. If she is of a careful
turn of mind, and mends her own dresses--though most frequently she
wears them torn and buttonless, fastened together only by the numerous
black or white safety-pins which she has abstracted--she scorns to
patch with the same colour, or anything near it, but introduces as much
variety as possible into the garment by choosing the strongest
contrasts of hue and greatest diversity of materials. Thus her pink or
yellow cotton dress will be patched with a piece of scarlet flannel or
bright blue woollen stuff; the blue skirt, of which the latter is a
portion, having been tastefully repaired with a large square of Turkey
red.
One day a bottle of salad oil is dropped and broken on the sitting-room
floor; and Phillis is called in to remove the traces of the accident.
Why does she look so delighted as she goes down on her knees beside the
unctuous pool? and why does she not proceed to wipe it up? The reason
is soon seen when she prepares for action by whisking off her bright
handkerchief-turban. Then the pallid palms of her monkey-like hands are
plunged blissfully into the oily mess, and again and again vigorously
rubbed over head and countenance, till the thick mass of wool is
saturated and dripping like a wet sponge, and the laughing face shines
like a mirror. She is far too much absorbed to notice the amusement her
performance is giving to hosts and guests; and when all the late
contents of the bottle have been successfully transferred to her
person, she goes back in high glee to her kitchen, rejoicing in her
increased loveliness.
The house work is no less of a failure than are the kitchen and laundry
departments. The art of bed-making has to be taught, with much patience
and perseverance, to each successive untutored savage; who--if she has
not come straight from some bee-hive-shaped hut where beds are totally
unknown--has lived in a Boer's house where, when it is thought worth
while to make the beds at all (by no means an every-day business) it is
never done till the evening, when it is just time to return to
them--and then is not done in a manner which at all accords with
English ideas. In the morning, each portion of the room and each
article of furniture which requires cleaning or dusting must be
separately and individually pointed out to your handmaiden; the corner
where you do not specially tell her to sweep, and the table or
bookshelf which you forget to commend to the attentions of her
feather-brush, being invariably left untouched. It is the same with all
the rest of her work; you have long ago found it impossible to make her
understand a thing once for all, or to establish any sort of regular
routine. She needs to be daily reminded of each daily duty, or it is
not done. And then, unless under constant supervision, most wearying to
her mistress, it is sure to be done wrong. Of course she never thinks
of reminding you of anything, but is only too delighted if you have
forgotten it. If, through some unlucky oversight, _you_ have not told
her to put the joint into the oven and the potatoes on the fire, the
chances are that both will be found uncooked when the dinner-hour
arrives. And even when all is ready to be served up, you must again
remind her of each dish, and of the proper order in which it is to make
its entrance, or it is quite certain to be brought in at the wrong
stage of the repast--if brought at all. But perhaps you have become
absorbed in the conversation at table, and so are unobservant of the
non-appearance of the greens or other vegetables, till next morning you
find them, still in the saucepan, and in a cold and sodden condition.
Thus every detail of each day's "trivial round" has to pass through the
mind of the mistress, who is compelled to neglect her work in looking
after that of a servant who will not use her own head. One goes to bed
at night footsore with running after this terrible servant; and with a
head still more wearied by the constant strain of doing all the
thinking for every department of the housekeeping. Of course it amounts
to much the same as doing the work yourself; and but for "the honour of
the thing"--like the Irishman strutting along proudly inside the
bottomless sedan-chair, though complaining that he "might as well have
walked"--you might as well be without a servant. With South African
domestics one realizes indeed the meaning of the word "eye-service";
for not one of them, even the best, knows what it is to be
conscientious. They never do a thing right because it _is_ right;
whatever they think will not be seen is neglected; and they are
placidly indifferent as to whether their work is done well or badly,
and whether you are pleased or not. One gets so tired of the apathetic
yellow or black faces; which never brighten but into a childish laugh,
generally at something which is the reverse of a laughing matter for
the employer.
Altogether, Phillis is in every way exasperating, and is the great
drawback to life on Cape farms. But she is the only kind of servant
available; and if you lose patience with her and let her go, you may
have to do the whole work of the house yourself, possibly for a week or
more, till another, closely resembling her, or perhaps worse, can be
found. Therefore, you put up with much, rather than make a change which
would involve the training of a raw recruit all unused to English ways,
to cleanliness, and to comfort; and indeed hardly acquainted with the
rudiments of civilization.
But, unluckily, Phillis herself loves change; it is irksome to her
volatile nature to remain long in one place; and accordingly, just as
she is becoming used to your ways, and you flatter yourself that you
will eventually get her into some sort of training, she flits off,
regardless of the inconvenience she may cause. She never tells you in a
straightforward manner that she wishes to leave; never gives you time
to look out for a substitute; but departs unexpectedly, and always in
one of two ways. Most commonly she rises in sudden insubordination,
gets up a row of the first magnitude on some trifling pretence, and
behaves in so turbulent and uproarious a manner that you are thankful
to be rid of her at any cost, and dismiss her then and there; which is
just what she wanted.
Or, if she is one of the more peaceful and amiable sort, and has some
kindly feeling for the "missis," she leaves the latter in the lurch in
a less offensive, though even more heartless manner. She does not _ask_
for a holiday, but announces her intention of taking one; faithfully
promises to return at the end of four days, and departs, riding astride
on a lean and ragged scarecrow of a horse, brought for her by a party
of Hottentot friends. It is true she leaves no possessions behind to
ensure her coming back; for she never has any luggage, and her
wardrobe, being of the scantiest, is all well contained in the
handkerchief-bundle which jogs at her side as she trots off. But new
chums, fresh from England, and innocent of the ways of the Karroo, are
always taken in the first time the trick is played on them; and as the
queer-looking cavalcade departs, bearing in its midst the giggling
Phillis, no disquieting suspicions cross the mistress's mind. She
determines to make the best of it for those four days, and goes bravely
to work; either single-handed, or with the so-called help of a small
Hottentot girl, who comes just when she chooses--sometimes remaining
away a whole day, sometimes arriving in the afternoon when most of the
work is done--and who lives so far off that going after her would be
useless waste of time. The hours are counted to the time appointed for
Phillis's return, but--needless to state--she is never again seen or
heard of; and the victim of her fraud learns by experience that as soon
as a servant talks of a holiday it is time to begin the weary search
for a successor; never found without plenty of riding about the
country, much inquiring on neighbouring and distant farms, and many
disappointments.
It is not much use taking English servants to the Karroo; the life is
too dull for them, they hear of high wages to be had in Port Elizabeth
and other towns, and you never keep them long. The man and wife, both
excellent servants, who came with us from England, left us soon after
we came up-country; and from that time we had none but coloured
servants for house and farm. There was indeed a sudden transformation
in our little kitchen; from the quiet, neatly-dressed, white-aproned
Mrs. Wells to noisy Hottentot Nancy, in dirtiest of pink cotton,
profusely patched with blue and yellow. And the kitchen itself was no
less changed than its presiding genius. Now began a time of good hard
work for me--for which the usual bringing-up of English girls, followed
by years of travel and of hotel life, was not the best of training;
and, though I had learned much from Mrs. Wells, I was often sadly at a
loss during the first weeks after her departure. No dish, however
simple, which I myself was not able to cook, could be cooked by Nancy
or any of her successors; all were obliged to see it done at least once
before they would attempt it. At this time cookery-books were almost my
only literature; and many times a day I sought counsel in a bulky
volume wherein recipes and prescriptions, law and natural history,
etiquette and the poultry-yard, formed a somewhat startling jumble; and
whose index presented, in immediate juxtaposition, such incongruous
subjects as liver, lobster, lumbago--marmalade, mayonnaise, measles,
meat--shrimps, Shropshire pudding, sick-room, sirloin, sitting-hens,
etc. As many despairing sighs as ever fluttered the inky pages of a
school lesson-book were breathed over this stout volume. T----, who,
after living for years in rougher places than the Karroo, has acquired
considerable experience and is a capital cook, helped me out of many a
difficulty; and in time I learned to be a tolerably good general
servant--which you must be yourself, if you are ever to do any good
with Kaffirs or Hottentots. But it was a pity that, when young, instead
of many of the things learned at school, I did not acquire what would
at this time have made me more independent of servants.
Why is not a knowledge of cooking and housekeeping made a part of every
English girl's education? Then, in the event of a colonial life being
one day her lot, she is to some extent prepared to encounter the
difficulties of that life; while, even if she should marry a
millionaire, and be waited on hand and foot for the rest of her days,
she is none the worse for possessing the knowledge of how things ought
to be done in her house--indeed, every woman who orders a dinner should
know something of how it is to be cooked.
Nancy, our first native servant, was also the best we ever had; always
bright and good-tempered, and singing over her work in a really
charming voice. On the whole she was far more intelligent than most of
her race; and we were really sorry when the equestrian family party
carried her from our sight, never to return. Then came a succession of
"cautions," each worse than her predecessor; and between them all we
did indeed, as Mark Twain has it, "know something about woe."
Nancy's immediate successor was in every respect her opposite; idle,
impudent, surly, and dishonest; eating as much as two men, but doing no
work that was worth anything. She kept yawning all day with loud howls
that were most depressing to hear; and when I went into the kitchen I
was pretty sure to find her fast asleep, with head and arms on the
table.
Our next specimen was a nearly white half-caste, with light-coloured
wool, and pale-grey, dead-looking eyes; who always reminded us of one
of the horrible, sickly-looking white lizards, so common in Karroo
houses. She was half-witted, and most uncanny-looking; with such a
ghastly, cold, unsympathetic manner and stony stare that we named her
Medusa. We could have picked out many a better servant from the
Earlswood Asylum. I was continually trying to think of all the idiotic
things she might possibly do, and thus guard against them beforehand;
yet she always took me by surprise by doing something ten times more
stupid than anything I had dreamed of.
Then came a tall, gaunt old Mozambique negress; in appearance
unpleasantly like an ancient Egyptian mummy, and with clothing which
looked as though it had been "resurrected" at the same time as herself
from a repose of some three thousand years. Only a dirty old black
pipe, seldom absent from her lips, savoured, not of the necropolis of
Thebes or of Memphis, but of the very vilest Boer tobacco. Besides
being an inveterate old thief, she was the exact opposite of a total
abstainer; and the frequent "drop too much" in which she indulged was
always the occasion for a display of choice language and a reckless
destruction of crockery.
But these are enough; suffice it to say that the same types of
character ran through a long line of successors, and that, taking them
all round, I had about the same amount of trouble with all of them.
T----'s men required almost as much looking after as my women; and, in
order to get his herds off to work in good time, it was generally
necessary for him to go down himself at sunrise to their little huts,
not far from the house, and wake them up. As a rule they were not fond
of work; and many were the excuses they would invent in order to avoid
it as much as possible. Being "sick" was of course a favourite plea;
and, whatever the nature of the complaint from which they professed
themselves to be suffering, they were always convinced that a _suppje_
(drink) of prickly pear brandy or of "Cape smoke"[5] would be just the
thing to set them right. At one time quite an epidemic of sham sickness
broke out; but, as we soon saw through the trick, and knew that our
would-be patients were perfectly well, we did not indulge them with
their favourite remedy, but determined to make an example. We
accordingly treated a very palpable case of shamming with a medicine of
our own concoction. We mixed a good saucerful of Gregory's powder and
castor oil into the thickest of paste; and prolonged the agony by
making the man eat the stuff with a teaspoon, while we stood sternly on
guard, to see that there was no evasion. And then we promised a second
dose in the event of the first failing to effect a cure. No need to say
that the victim hastened to report himself quite well, and that as long
as he remained on the farm he was never "sick" again. The fame of the
terrible medicine spread, and we did not hear of much more illness
among our men.
[5] Boer brandy.
This dose was mild, however, in comparison with one of which I have
heard, which was prepared by some gentlemen of our acquaintance. They
were living in a tent on the Diamond Fields; and for some time had
noticed a very rapid diminution of their supply of brandy. Not knowing
which of their native servants was the culprit, they resolved to set a
trap; and, putting a little croton oil into the brandy-bottle, left the
latter in a temptingly prominent position. The next morning one of the
servants, a big, stout fellow, was missing; and for ten days nothing
was seen or heard of him. When, at the end of that time, he reappeared,
he was transformed into such a poor, limp, wasted living skeleton that
he could hardly be recognised. He went back to his work without a word;
and never again did the brandy-bottle's attractions lure him from the
path of honesty.
The best and most hard-working of all our men was a sturdy Zulu, who,
both in face and figure, exactly resembled that life-like wooden
statue--one of the oldest in the world--which, in the Museum at Cairo,
gives us so accurate a portrait of an ancient Egyptian. In looking at
it you feel that you can read the character of this man who lived three
or four thousand years ago; and know that, although one of the
best-tempered of souls, he was as obstinate as Pharaoh himself. Nor
were these qualities lacking in his modern fac-simile, the
ostrich-herd; whose broad countenance, as he strode after his
long-legged charges, bearing, in place of the Egyptian's staff of
office, a stout tackey, wore the identical expression which that artist
of long ago has caught so well. The good fellow showed a laudable
tenacity of purpose in the steady perseverance with which he was
putting by all he could save of his wages, and investing the money in
cows. With these latter it was his intention to purchase a wife, as
soon as a sufficient number could be collected to satisfy the demands
of the prospective father-in-law.
A marriage after this fashion, although not quite in accordance with
English ideas, has certainly the advantage of inducing good habits in
the intending Benedick. In the first place, he learns to economize
instead of spending his money on drink. He will, of course, take as
many _suppjes_ as you like to offer him; but you will never find him
going off on the spree for two or three days, and coming back
considerably the worse for his outing, as those of his brethren who
have not his motive for thrift are too fond of doing. He is altogether
a better servant than they, being less independent and more anxious to
please. Often, too, he learns to exercise much patience; for, if the
girl is pretty, or the father--who always has a keen eye to
business--observes that the swain is very devoted, a high price is
fixed; and the bridegroom-elect has to work for years, like Jacob for
Rachel, till he has accumulated the required number of cows.
Daughters, being such a profitable source of capital, are of course
much valued by the parents; to whom, besides, in that sunniest of
climates, a large family brings none of the cares and anxieties which
it entails on the English labouring-man. The more children a Zulu has,
the better he is pleased; the birth of a girl especially being welcomed
as gladly as is that of a son among the Jews, and indeed among
Orientals generally.
English people settling in the Cape Colony usually start with a strong
prejudice in favour of the coloured race. They think them ill-treated,
bestow on them a good deal of unmerited sympathy, and credit them with
many good qualities which they do not possess. By the time they have
been a year or two in the country a reaction has set in; they have
discovered that the negro is a fraud; they hate him, and cannot find
anything bad enough to say of him. Then a still longer experience
teaches them that the members of this childish race are, after all, not
so bad, but that they require keeping in their places--treating in fact
as you would treat children twelve years old. In intelligence, indeed,
they never seem to advance much beyond that age. You must, of course,
be just with them; but always keep them at a distance. Above all, never
let either men or women servants know that you are pleased with them,
or they will invariably presume.
It seems a hard thing to say, but it does not do to be too patient and
indulgent; excessive leniency only spoils them, just as it does the
Hindoo servants. One of our relatives, a kind and gentle chaplain in
India, finding that he was worse waited on than any of his neighbours,
and asking his head servant one day why the latter and all his
subordinates worked so badly, paid so little attention to orders, etc.,
received the following candid answer from the man: "Why not _sahib_
give plenty stick, and _mem-sahib_ call plenty pig? Then we good
servants."
A Boer gets much more work out of the natives than an Englishman. The
latter is at one time too severe, and at another too lenient; but the
Boer's treatment is uniformly just and firm. Perhaps the expression,
"like a Dutch uncle," may have originated in the Cape Colony.
The Zulus and Kaffirs are by nature fine, generous characters,
comparatively free from dishonesty and untruthfulness; though
unfortunately they too soon acquire both these vices, as well as
numerous others, when they come in contact with civilization, which in
their case certainly seems, as Bret Harte has it, "a failure." On the
Diamond Fields the best servants are invariably those who are taken
fresh from their kraals; even the fact of their knowing a few words of
English being found a disadvantage.
A Zulu is always somewhat of a gentleman, and possesses a certain code
of honour, although to us it seems rather a queer one. For instance,
though he will on no account rob his own master, he will not hesitate
to steal a sheep from a neighbouring farm, if he should happen to feel
inclined for a "big feed"; on which occasion the amount of meat he is
able to consume at one sitting is positively alarming. He evidently
looks upon the sheep much as Queen Elizabeth is said to have regarded
the goose, viz., as a creature of most inconvenient size, "too much for
one, but not enough for two." When periodical rations of meat are
served out to him he always eats up the whole of his allowance on the
first evening, apparently oblivious of the fact that he will have to go
without for the rest of the week. And then he subsists, contentedly
enough, on mealies, till the joyful time comes for his next good square
meal of goat or mutton. He is the happiest and best-tempered of souls,
never bearing any animosity, and always ready to forgive; and although
he seems incapable of any real attachment to his employers, and is most
strangely destitute of all sense of gratitude, one cannot help liking
him. Altogether the Zulus are quite the aristocracy of the negro race;
and, even at their worst, contrast very favourably with the Hottentots
and Bushmen, whose character has hardly a redeeming point, and seems
made up of all the lowest and most ignoble qualities.