HOLIDAYS. 
ing wbat to do, well knowing something must be done 
promptly, having no neighbouring planter before whom 
they could lay the case, and being seized and struck 
with fear, at the very unusual and unexpected re- 
sponsibility so suddenly devolved upon them, took the 
simple way of shirking the responsibility in a way 
which many of their betters, who ought to have known 
better, had done before them, and bolted. Now suppos- 
ing there had, as there certainly ought to have, been an 
assistant on this estate, the man’s life would \ erhaps 
have been saved, at all events it would have been 
known how or from what cause he died. Any 
shade of suspicion of foul play, on the part of the 
servants, would have either been confirmed or disproved, 
and last but not least the proprietors of the estate 
would not have been left without cooly labor, which 
for long afterwards it was difficult to re-establish. 
“ A bad devil is on the estate”: so said the cooliet. 
Of course 'we had our holidays then, as now, the 
patching up time, but rather a great mistake it was. 
Instead of being “patched up,” we generally left our 
estate in very good health, and returned, in order 
t© be patched up from the ill effects of our trip, and 
it would happen so. Having arranged for our absence 
during the holidays (1) a cooly would be sent off, in 
advance, with the invaiiable tin box, and, having 
begged or borrowed an old pony, off we start, in 
great glee, with the usual horsekeeper behind. W e very 
soon found out what sort of a nag we had to deal 
with, for he would not go along any faster than a 
slow walk. Spurs were of no avail his sides seemed 
quite spur-proof; the only effect any amount of spurring 
had was to produce a snort, or groan, and then, very^ 
probably, a stand-still ; if we continued to dig into 
his ribs, he would gradually edge sideways towards 
the outside of the road, right on to the brink of a 
frightful precipice, wdth a river rolling and tossing 
hundreds of feet below, seemingly quiie determined 
to murder his rider, even although that foul act would 
most certainly entail a suicidal death upon himself. 
He was on the brink of the precipice, and had come 
to a stand-still ; the more we spurred the nearer he 
went ; one hind foot was over, the earth and stones 
were rolling down the steep declivity. W e throw the 
reins to the horsekeeper, and throw ourselves over 
upon the road, upon which we trip and tumble, looking 
nervously up, fully expecting that both pony and 
horsekeeper had gone over the steep abyss; there was 
the animal tearing and eating away at the short tliick 
grass, on the edge of the precipice, just as if he had 
no food for the last day or two, and the horsekeeper 
