184 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM. 



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 sauce- 

 pans 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 mis- 

 chief 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 



