LIFE ON A MOUNTAIN FARM. 85 



procurable at the rate of from sixpence to one 

 shilling per bottle, and from its cheapness and its 

 alcoholic strength, is a baleful source of drunkenness 

 and injury, especially to natives, throughout the 

 Colony. We have no cellar, and thus our host is 

 compelled to keep his supplies of spirit within the 

 living-rooms, otherwise they would, I fear, not long 

 escape the attentions of the native servants about 

 the place. Coffee is our staple beverage, and 

 morning, noon, and night, accompanies our meals. 



Our two native servant girls sleep in the kitchen,' 

 curled up on the matting in front of the hearth. 

 They do not change their clothes for the night's 

 rest — nothing, I suppose, would induce them to. 

 Their costumes consist of nothing more than a 

 print gown — usually blue, spotted or chequered with 

 white, and the red and white spotted cotton hand- 

 kerchief with which they hide their woolly pates. 

 When these garments are dirty, they are made to 

 change them, this is the utmost they can be 

 persuaded into. They wear no shoes or stockings, 

 and herein I think they are wise enough ; their soft 

 pattering footsteps make one annoyance the less in 

 their management. They are a great trouble to our 

 hostess, these black servants. Kaitje, although she 

 can cook very decently, is the emptiest-headed, 

 silliest, most tittering creature that ever cooked a 

 stew. If you but look at her she giggles, for no 

 earthly reason that one can discover. Occasionally 

 she sulks, and nothing can be done with her. Sally, 

 a young good-looking Kaffir girl from the kraal a few 

 miles away, is really not so bad ; left to herself, and 

 the eye of her good mistress, I believe she would im- 

 prove vastly. But the sniggering Kaitje demoralises 



