For instance, when he
sets to work to brush F----'s clothes of a morning he is by no means
content to brush the cloth clothes. Oh dear, no! He brushes the socks,
putting each carefully on his hand like a glove and brushing vigorously
away. As they are necessarily very thin socks for this hot weather, they
are apt to melt away entirely under the process. I say nothing of his
blacking the boots inside as well as out, or of his laboriously
scrubbing holes in a serge coat with a scrubbing-brush, for these are
errors of judgment dictated by a kindly heart. But when Jack puts a
saucepan on the fire without any water and burns holes in it, or tries
whether plates and dishes can support their own weight in the air
without a table beneath them, then, I confess, my patience runs short.
But Jack is so imperturbable, so perfectly and genuinely astonished at
the untoward result of his experiments, and so grieved that the
_inkosacasa_ (I have not an idea how the word ought to be spelt) should
be vexed, that I am obliged to leave off shaking my head at him, which
is the only way I have of expressing my displeasure. He keeps on saying,
"Ja, oui, yaas," alternately, all the time, and I have to go away to
laugh.
FEBRUARY 16.
I was much amused the other day at receiving a letter of introduction
from a mutual friend in England, warmly recommending a newly-arrived
bride and bridegroom to my acquaintance, and especially begging me to
take pains to introduce the new-comers into the "best society.
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