190 
A COLONY IN THE MAKING 
CHAP. 
day. Once out of bed, always a wrench, this is one 
of the pleasantest hours. The sun has just made his 
appearance and every blade of grass and twig of tree 
is clad in diamonds. It is deliciously cool or bracingly 
cold, according to the season. Those who assert that 
flowers in Africa cannot smell would soon find out their 
mistake in the perfume which pours from roses, violets, 
and mimosa. Partridges are calling in all directions, 
and the last wail of the hyaena, or, if one is lucky, the 
deep grunt of a lion may be heard. Unless the view 
is obscured the heights of Kenya and Kilima-njaro 
stand clear-cut pink, white or blue. In a word, this is 
one of those moments, always rare, when it is good to 
be alive. 
A few appreciative sniffs, however, is all that our 
friend will get, for as he approaches his little knot of 
“ boys,” a strong smell of raw Kikuyu and mutton fat 
dissipates all lesser scents. He therefore as quickly as 
may be calls up the foremen or “ Neoparas ” and lays 
out to each the day’s work ; insisting if he is wise as far 
as is reasonably possible on piecework. Thus,* one gang 
will be employed in cleaning and weeding a certain 
area, one Scotch cart and three or four boys will be 
going to collect a fixed amount of firewood, two strips 
are marked off to be ploughed, and so on. The day’s 
tasks being settled, the farmer sees the oxen harnessed 
and the various gangs commencing work; he then 
returns for a wash and a shave and so to breakfast at 
7.30. This very solid meal over, one partner will go 
off to supervise the work and probably take a hand at 
the ploughing himself; his friend meanwhile will go 
round the stables, the pigs, and the cattle. There are 
then assuredly some carpentering jobs to be done, 
ploughs or carts to be repaired, or a fence to be erected. 
