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 man, but the master, or boss, who looks after the working man.

I liked Pieter Maritzburg very much,—perhaps the best of all South African towns. But whenever I would express such an opinion to a Pieter Maritzburger he would never quite agree with me. It is difficult to get a Colonist to assent to any opinion as to his own Colony. If you find fault, he is injured and almost insulted. The traveller soon learns that he had better abstain from all spoken criticism, even when that often repeated, that dreadful question is put to him,—which I was called upon to answer sometimes four or five times a day,—" Well, Mr. Trollope, what do you think of,"—let us say for the moment, "South Africa?" But even praise is not accepted without contradiction, and the peculiar hardships of a Colonist's life are insisted upon almost with indignation when colonial blessings are spoken of with admiration. The Government at home is doing everything that is cruel, and the Government in the Colony is doing everything that is foolish. With whatever interest the gentleman himself is concerned, that peculiar interest is peculiarly ill-managed by the existing powers. But for some fatuous maddening law he himself could make his own fortune and almost that of the Colony. In Pieter Maritzburg everybody seemed to me very comfortable, but everybody was ill-used. There was no  labour,—though the streets were full of Zulus, who would do anything for a shilling and half anything for sixpence. There was  no emigration from England provided for by the  country. There were  not   half soldiers  enough   in   Natal,—though