File:Round the black man's garden (1893) (14775901812).jpg

Identifier: roundblackmansga00colv (find matches)
Title: Round the black man's garden
Year: 1893 (1890s)
Authors: Colvile, Zélie Isabelle Richaud de Préville, lady
Subjects: Africa -- Description and travel
Publisher: Edinburgh and London, W. Blackwood and sons
Contributing Library: Mugar Memorial Library, Boston University
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston University

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many large fields of prickly-pears, the top shoots of which were all carefully tiedup with bits of rag. On inquiring, I learned that itis on these plants that the cochineal insect feeds,and that for fear of these precious little bugs drop-ping ofi and getting lost, they are thus made prison-ers on their feeding-grounds, until the time arriveswhen they are collected by the women in littlewooden trays, and then left to die and dry up inthe sun. In the course of one of our walks near the town,we came across some curious cave-dwellings in theface of the cliff, the entrances to which, being coatedwith a circle of whitewash, had a clean look at adistance; but the appearance of such of the inhab-itants as wx saw did not tempt us to explore theinteriors. Not caring much for Las Palmas or its neighbour-hood, and hearing that the next outward-bound boatfor the West Coast of Africa would not start untilthe 9th of March, we determined to pass the re-mainder of our enforced stay in the Canaries at
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AN OBJECTIONABLE STEWARD. 275 Orotava, in the island of TenerifFe. We were toldon the third day of our stay at Las Palmas that theboat was sailing for Teneriffe that evening, and wewent to the agents office to secure our tickets,hurried back to the hotel, and after getting alittle dinner, started off for the port. As therewas no one to take our things on board, we askedthe manager if he could get it done for us, towhich he at once answered that he would go anddo it himself as soon as he could be missed! At nine oclock we embarked on board the LeoneCastillo. She was a small uncomfortable boat, andit struck me she might be very nasty if there wasany sea on. Luckily it was beautifully calm, andbright moonlight. AVe were received by the steward—a fat, dirty little boy—who followed us like ourshadow. I happened to ask him what were thegreen lights I saw ahead, so he comfortably installedhimself in a chair opposite us, and lighting a cigar-ette, told us it was the wreck of an Italian sh

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