fely and before the rain fell, but found all our servants in the
verandah in the last stage of dismay and uncertainty what to do for
the best. They had collected waterproofs, umbrellas and lanterns; but
as it was not actually raining yet, and we certainly did not require
light on our path--for they said that each flash showed them our
climbing, trudging figures as plainly as possible--it was difficult
to know what to do, especially as the Kafirs have, very naturally, an
intense horror and dislike to going out in a thunderstorm. This storm
was not really overhead at all, and scarcely deserves mention except
as the precursor of a severe one of which our valley got the full
benefit. It was quite curious to see the numbers of dead butterflies
on the garden-paths after that second storm. Their beautiful plumage
was not dimmed or smirched nor their wings broken: they would have
been in perfect order for a naturalist's collection; yet they were
quite dead and stiff. The natives declare it is the lightning which
kills them thus.

My own private dread--to return to that walk home for a moment--was of
stepping on a snake, as there are a great many about, and one especial
variety, a small poisonous brown adder, is of so torpid and lazy a
nature that it will not glide out of your way, as other snakes do,
but lets you tread on it and then bites you. It is very marvelous,
considering how many snakes there are, that one hears of so few bad
accidents. G---- is always poking about in likely places for them, as
his supreme ambition is to see one. I fully expect a catastrophe some
day, and keep stores of ammonia and brandy handy. Never was such
a fearless little monkey. He is always scampering about on his old
Basuto pony, and of course tumbles off now and then; but he does not
mind it in the least. When he is not trying to break his neck in this
fashion he is down by himself at the river fishing, or he is climbing
trees, or down a well which is being dug here, or in some piece of
mischief or other. The sun and the fruit are my _betes noires_, but
neither seems to hurt him, though I really don't believe that any
other child in the world has ever eaten so many apricots at one time
as he has been doing lately. This temptation has just been removed,
however, for during our short absence at D'Urban every fruit tree
has been stripped to the bark--every peach and plum, every apple and
apricot, clean gone. Of course, no one has done it, but it i