190 A COLONY IN THE MAKING chap, 



day. Once out of bed, always a wrench, this is one 

 of the pleasantest hours. The sun has just made his 

 appearance and every blade of grass and twig of tree 

 is clad in diamonds. It is deliciously cool or bracingly 

 cold, according to the season. Those who assert that 

 flowers in Africa cannot smell would soon find out their 

 mistake in the perfume which pours from roses, violets, 

 and mimosa. Partridges are calling in all directions, 

 and the last wail of the hyaena, or, if one is lucky, the 

 deep grunt of a lion may be heard. Unless the view 

 is obscured the heights of Kenya and Kilima-njaro 

 stand clear-cut pink, white or blue. In a word, this is 

 one of those moments, always rare, when it is good to 

 be alive. 



A few appreciative sniffs, however, is all that our 

 friend will get, for as he approaches his little knot of 

 " boys," a strong smell of raw Kikuyu and mutton fat 

 dissipates all lesser scents. He therefore as quickly as 

 may be calls up the foremen or " Neoparas " and lays 

 out to each the day's work ; insisting if he is wise as far 

 as is reasonably possible on piecework. Thus, one gang 

 will be employed in cleaning and weeding a certain 

 area, one Scotch cart and three or four boys will be 

 going to collect a fixed amount of firewood, two strips 

 are marked off to be ploughed, and so on. The day's 

 tasks being settled, the farmer sees the oxen harnessed 

 and the various gangs commencing work ; he then 

 returns for a wash and a shave and so to breakfast at 

 7.30. This very solid meal over, one partner will go 

 off to supervise the work and probably take a hand at 

 the ploughing himself; his friend meanwhile will go 

 round the stables, the pigs, and the cattle. There are 

 then assuredly some carpentering jobs to be done, 

 ploughs or carts to be repaired, or a fence to be erected. 



