I entered one of the narrow winding footpaths, where an immense variety of
convolvuli crept along the penguin fences, disclosing their delicate
flowers in the morning freshness, (all that class here shut shop at noon,)
and passion flowers of all sizes, from a soup plate to a thumb ring.
The huts were substantially thatched with palm leaves, and the walls woven
with a basket--work of twigs, plastered over with clay, and whitewashed;
the floors were of baked clay, dry and comfortable. They all consisted of
a hall and a sleeping--room off each side of it: in many of the former I
noticed mahogany sideboards and chairs, and glass decanters, while a whole
lot of African drums and flutes, and sometimes a good gun, hung from the
rafters; and it would have gladdened an Irishman's heart to have seen the
adjoining piggeries. Before one of the houses an old woman was taking
care of a dozen black infants, little naked, glossy, black guinea pigs,
with party coloured beads tied round their loins, each squatted like a
little Indian pagod in the middle of a large wooden bowl, to keep it off
the damp ground.
While I was pursuing my ramble, a large conch--shell was blown at the
overseer's house, and the different gangs turned in to dinner; they came
along, dancing and shouting, and playing tricks on each other in the
little paths, in all the happy anticipation of a good dinner, and an hour
and a half to eat it in, the men well clad in Osnaburg frocks and
trowsers, and the women in baize petticoats and Osnaburg shifts, with a
neat printed calico short gown over all.
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