I managed to sleep through that night, as it was not so cold, and I had the carriage to myself. Early the next morning we steamed into Kimberley, and my brother met me at the station.
KIMBERLEY, SOUTH AFRICA, _December 1892_.
Two things are prominent in my mind to-day: the first is that the thermometer is at 104° in the shade, and the mosquitoes are perfectly vicious; and the second is that the Kimberley Exhibition, with its round of gaieties, is actually closed. But before I tell you about this Exhibition, I must try to go back and give you a few "first impressions" of the Diamond Fields.
As you come into Kimberley by train, you first pass the Kaffir Location; and, instead of the picturesque dwellings that one sees in pictures, you see an exceedingly untidy collection of huts built of all sorts of odds and ends--bits of galvanized iron, old paraffin tins, &c. Then come small tin shanties inhabited by the "poor whites"; and so the houses improve, as one nears the centre of the town.
We drove down from the station in a Cape cart, which takes the place of a fly here. It is a comfortable kind of dog-cart with two wheels, drawn by a pair of horses; it has a movable hood, and the four passengers all sit facing the horse's tail. The most comfortable seats are at the back, and part of the driver's seat lifts up on a hinge while you get to the back seat.
I found my brother had taken a house and bought all the furniture in it, so there was not much difficulty about settling in, except hanging our own pictures and buying a little more linen, plate, &c.
It was a nice brick-walled bungalow, with the usual galvanized-iron roof, and a shady balcony (called here a stoep) all the way round the house, so that one could generally find a fairly cool place to sit.
He had also secured a very good white woman as cook, and a dusky Zulu called George, who waited at table, and generally fagged for the cook. George looked about fifteen, so I treated him as I would a boy of eleven or twelve, and he was soon my most devoted slave. But one day I asked him how old he was, and he said, "I was thirty-four last census, missus." But I shall continue to treat him in the same way, as it seems to answer well; and, after all, I think these blacks will always be rather like children, however old they are. I find he has a wife at a kraal, up country, and he is now saving up to buy some cows wherewith to secure another wife. I understand the present value of "a nice Kaffir girl" is seven cows!