i86 HOME LIFE ON AN OSTRICH FARM. 



cliina destroyed through her carelessness are quietly 

 put away out of sight, and, as she hopes, out of mind. 

 Then perhaps, one day, having a little time to spare, 

 you are looking about among the bushes to find out 

 where the white turkey lays, and suddenly see, gleam- 

 ing out through the dark foliage, what you at first 

 take for a goodly number of the expected eggs. But 

 alas ! on closer investigation you recognize the familiar 

 patterns of your pretty breakfast and dinner services ; 

 chosen carefully in England, with bright anticipations 

 of the colonial home for which they were destined. 

 For a long time their number has been mysteriously 

 but steadily decreasing ; till now there are but two 

 soup-plates left, the cracked and chipped vegetable- 

 dishes cannot among them boast of one handle, and 

 the tureen, being without a lid, has to be covered igno- 

 miniously with a plate. Egg-cups there are none, and 

 their places have long been supplied — not altogether 

 unsuccessfully — by napkin-rings. 



Constant relays of cups and saucers, as well as of 

 glasses, are needed from Port Elizabeth; a dozen of 

 either lasting but a very short time in the coloured 

 girl's destructive hands. Opportunities of getting 

 things sent up to the farm do not present themselves 

 every week ; and to be provided, at one and the same 

 time, with a sufficient supply of both glass and china is 

 as unheard-of a state of affluence as was the possession, 

 by poor Mr. Wilfer, of a hat and a complete suit of 

 clothes all new together. An influx of unexpected 

 visitors is sure to arrive at the time of greatest defi- 



