274 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
of designs upon his watch-chain. A friend, how- 
ever, knowing the custom, explained that the 
native merely wished to kiss the hand, which was 
his way of saying “ Thank you.” 
The love of litigation is strong in the Kaffir. 
In a local case, the trouble was over a fowl, 
valued at sixpence. The Kaffir who had sued for 
this sixpence lost his case: took it to appeal, lost 
again: then took it to a still higher court—and 
won! It cost him fifty pounds altogether. But 
he evidently thought it all worth while, judging 
by the triumph with which on the final verdict 
being delivered he turned to his adversary and 
said in his native tongue: “I have thrust into 
you an assegai !” 
The effect of music on Kaffirs is interesting. 
The gramophone, of course, is a stand-by in some 
remote places where other music would be im- 
possible. One morning one of these instruments 
began on the record of Sir Edward Elgar’s “ Land 
of Hope and Glory.” At the moment, a Kaffir 
shepherd was driving some sheep far up a steep 
hill opposite. As soon as the music—it was 
the glorious voice of Clara Butt—began to 
ring out, the native suddenly stopped. Then he 
quickly turned round. It was as if he had seen 
a vision. He listened intently. The thrilling 
solo continued ; and the man at the gramophone, 
observing the native’s attitude, turned the mouth of 
the instrument right in his direction. Apparently 
recognizing that the music was thus meant for him, 
the Kaffir bared his head and stood listening with 
a reverent wonder which was very impressive. 
