And now the difference of travel in Africa and England struck me forcibly.
Fancy a band of negro explorers marching uninvited through the Squire's
manor, strewing his lawn and tennis-ground with all manner of rubbish;
housing their belongings in his dining- and drawing- and best bed-rooms,
which are at once vacated by his wife and family; turning his cook out of
his or her kitchen; calling for the keys of his dairy and poultry-yard,
hot-houses, and cellar; and rummaging the whole mansion for curios and
heirlooms interesting to the negro anthropologist. Fancy also their
bidding him to be ready next morning for sporting and collecting purposes,
with all his pet servants, his steward and his head-gardener, his
stud-groom and his gamekeeper; and allowing, by way of condescension, Mr.
Squire to carry their spears, bows, and arrows; bitterly deriding his
weapons the while, as they proceed to whip his trout-stream, to pluck his
pet plants, to shoot his pheasants, and to kill specimens of his rarest
birds for exhibition in Africa. Fancy their enquiring curiously about his
superstitions, sitting in his pew, asking for bits of his East window, and
criticising his 'fetish' in general, ending with patting him upon the back
and calling him a 'jolly old cock.
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