A Pattern Wife 



it must have been her first introduction to plum- 

 pudding ; but she took to it as a duck to water. 

 What a life ! And yet I might have spent a far 

 worse Christmas in that gay city of London. At 

 any rate, out in the wilds everything is redundant of 

 life and freedom, whereas the former place, on the 

 occasion of these high festivals, is like a city of the 

 dead. 



A part of my large " safari " had broken down at 

 the river, unable to proceed farther from sheer 

 fatigue. So I sent a native to inform them that 

 another three miles would bring them into camp. I 

 tried to cheer them up, but they were far too ex- 

 hausted. The rain saps the strength out of the 

 porters very effectively. I felt especially for a very 

 pretty young Nuby girl, who had from the first 

 attracted my attention by her excellent figure. She 

 would have been a fine model for a Michael Angfelo 

 or a Canova. She was the wife of a prisoner whom 

 I was marching to Entebbe, with orders to hand him 

 over to the tender mercies of the authority. Here 

 there was a fine faithfulness which might well be 

 emulated. This beautiful young wife still remained 

 true to her erring husband, and however long the 

 day's march, she followed him, blind to all but love 

 and duty, to try and ease his punishment, carrying 

 his pots and pans on her head in order that nothing 

 migrht be wantino- for his comfort at the end of each 

 day's march, I could not help w^ondering what she 

 would do whilst he was underg^oins;" his six months' 

 sentence at Entebbe ; for it is a dangerous place 



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