e tide had been out we could have driven quickly along the
hard, dry sand; but we comfort ourselves by remembering that there
had been water enough on the bar, and make the best of our way through
clouds of impalpable dust to a better road, of which a couple of
hundred yards land us at our hotel. It looks bare and unfurnished
enough, in all conscience, but it is a new place, and must be
furnished by degrees. At all events, it is tolerably clean and quiet,
and we can wash our sunburned faces and hands, and, as nurse says,
"turn ourselves round."

Coolies swarm in every direction, picturesque fish- and fruit-sellers
throng the verandah of the kitchen a little way off, and everything
looks bright and green and fresh, having been well washed by the
recent rains. There are still, however, several feet of dust in the
streets, for they are _made_ of dust; and my own private impression
is, that all the water in the harbor would not suffice to lay the dust
of D'Urban for more than half an hour. With the restlessness of people
who have been cooped up on board ship for a month, we insist, the
moment it is cool enough, on being taken out for a walk. Fortunately,
the public gardens are close at hand, and we amuse ourselves very well
in them for an hour or two, but we are all thoroughly tired and worn
out, and glad to get to bed, even in gaunt, narrow rooms on hard
pallets.

The two following days were spent in looking after and collecting
our cumbrous array of boxes and baskets. Tin baths, wicker chairs and
baskets, all had to be counted and recounted, until one got weary of
the word "luggage;" but that is the penalty of drafting babies about
the world. In the intervals of the serious business of tracing No. 5
or running No. 10 to earth in the corner of a warehouse, I made many
pleasant acquaintances and received kindest words and notes of welcome
from unknown friends. All this warm-hearted, unconventional kindness
goes far to make the stranger forget his "own people and his father's
house," and feel at once at home amid strange and unfamiliar scenes.
After all, "home" is portable, luckily, and a welcoming smile and
hand-clasp act as a spell to create it in any place. We also managed,
after business-hours, when it was of no use making expeditions to
wharf or custom-house after recusant carpet-bags, to drive to
the Botanic Gardens. They are extensive and well kept, but seem
principally devoted to shrubs. I was assured that this is