94 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM. 



It was, however, very nearly equalled in magnitude 

 by a previous one, which, while we were living at Hume 

 Cottage, gave me the first experience of a big rain — and 



of a brack roof. T being away for a few days, I 



was alone in the house with my one black servant, who 

 of course slept placidly through all the tumult of the 

 elements. I, on the contrary — the bedroom being 

 water-tight — was lying awake, listening and rejoicing 

 as I thought of all the good this splendid rain would do 

 us. Little did I suspect what it was doing in the 

 sitting-room ; and I cheerfully and briskly opened the 

 door of the latter next morning, all unprepared for the 

 sight which met my eyes. Poor little room ! only a few 

 days before we had taken such pride and pleasure in 

 beautifying it — and now ! It looked like nothing but 

 the saloon of a steamer which had gone down and been 

 fished up again. The treacherous roof had let in floods 

 of dirty brown water in all directions ; the Turkish 

 ruo-s were half buried in mud ; the new bent-wood chairs 

 looked like neglected old garden seats which for years 

 had braved all weathers ; and the table-cloth, on the 

 artistic colours of which we had prided ourselves, gave 

 a very good idea of the probable state of Sir Walter 

 Raleigh's cloak after serving as an impromptu carpet 

 for his queen. But the brunt of the storm had fallen 

 on two sets of hanging bookshelves, well filled with 

 nicely-bound volumes, and gracefully draped with some 

 of our pet pieces of Turkish needlework. The books 

 all looked as if they had been boiled ; and the colour 

 which had come out of their swollen and pulpy bindings 



