A DARK PATRIARCH. 299 



the six ladies who were sitting round outside were 

 M'untu's wives, the three men were his servants, and one 

 old fellow, with a very high ring on his head, was his 

 familiar councillor. I ordered an ox's head for their lunch, 

 and expressed a wish that I should see my worthy visitor 

 during the course of the evening. About eight o'clock he 

 came to me in the mud hovel that served as mess-room, 

 and accepted my offer of a seat. He appeared with his 

 retinue of wives, &c. It is strange what different customs 

 exist in different lands. While the princesses of Oude 

 allow not even their beautiful eyes to be seen, the 

 princesses of Kaffirland consider statuesque absence of 

 drapery fashionable. Civilisation prefers the half-way- 

 between-the-two style which many of our ball-room belles 

 now practise. M'untu Umculu appeared wonderfully at 

 his ease, and offered me his snuff-box with the solemnity 

 of a judge. He was decidedly an oracle in his own circle, 

 and although apparently not more than twenty, seemed 

 to have inspired each and every one of his six wives with 

 an awe and a reverence for his word and look, that might 

 give an excellent example to many a man who has only 

 one sixth of his difficulties. 



Having on the table a stone bottle of gin, containing 

 about two gallons, I poured out a tumbler-full and offered 

 it to my visitor ; he took a little sip, another, then a big 

 draught, and then with one gulp, down it all went. I 

 watched him attentively, but he never even winked his eye. 

 I waited for a short time to watch progress, but M'untu's 

 thirsty nature impelled him to push his tumbler over to 

 rne again. I cautioned the Kaffir chief that the spirit 



