52 SLY, SIR, — DEVILISH SLY. 
with at least half a mile of undergrowth between us and 
the open road. 
Captain Jamison next spoke of the great superiority 
of the Kaffir over the Bushman, and placed the latter in 
turn over the Hottentot, ‘‘The Kaffir,” he said, “has 
considerable mind, is brave, and differs from the negro 
in many essential points: in colour he approaches the 
Moor. The Bushman is ‘regular negro,’ passably brave, 
but of no mental capacity; while the Hottentot is remark- 
able for nothing but high cheek-bones and a most mar- 
vellous development that would put to shame the most 
exaggerated of old-fashioned bustles.” 
Somehow or other the conversation here turned upon 
Peter, our Mormon driver; and the captain laughingly 
gave us a short history of him. Peter, he said, was 
widely known as a clever and obliging fellow, but, like 
Joseph Bagstock, he was ‘‘sly, sir, — devilish sly.” Having 
been unmercifully “kicked” by a young lady of Dutch 
parentage, he had rushed to the feet of a Hottentot belle 
and dragged her to the nuptial broomstick in a state of 
mind bordering upon desperation. Alas for Peter! He 
had not been married a week before he made the start- 
ling discovery that he was not her “first love;” and this, 
combined with the fact of his brandy-bottle always giving 
out when he still thought that it should be half full, pro- 
duced a gradual change in his feelings which finally re- 
sulted in his embracing the Mormon faith. Poor Peter ! 
I’ll venture to say that you still sit behind those piles of 
bones, still urge them ahead with that ejaculation of 
surpi’ise. 
It was a late hour when we shook hands with our host, 
