Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1898-12-17
!. TALES OF PLUCK
AND ADVENTURE.
A Terrible NIessnate.

gaaasasa@s0SsSo@oe0e0SY0@
A Terrible Messmate.
As sit down to pen this little in.
cident of my life, writes a South
African woman in the Wide World
Magazine, this is the picture that rises
before me: 1t is early morning in my
beautiful African home beautiful
with strange fascination that is all
its OWN. Rising hastily, throw on
wrapper and, opening the glass
doors, step out ON the stoop. The
morning Is fresh and clear after the
dust-storm of the previous evening,
and pulling up the grass blinds look
out on the promise of the coming
day.
Calling my husband, I begin to
pour out the coffee, when the Kaffir
nurse appear, with our baby boy. He
is the picture of health and is clamor-
ing for his porridge. I gave him a
plateful, with generous allowance of
milk, and as one makes the most of
the cool of the day in Africa, I tell
him he may take it outside and eat it,
thinking he would stay on the stoop.
Instead of this, however, the little
fellow marched off to the rockery,
which of late seemed to have become
his favorite place-a beautiful spot it
was, with its tall red and white cactus
trees and brilliant scarlet creepers.
Hurriedly finishing his breakfast,
my husband remarked that he and the
"boys"-as all Kaffirs are called, old
or young-would be late in starting
with the transport wagon to the town,
so he kissed me. and laughingly
promised to bring the child and me
something from the town. Then he
went out and disappeared into the
compound, waving his hand as he
turned the corner.
Picking up my hat, Invent out to find
my baby boy. He was not on the
stoop, so walked on and turned the
corner towards the rockerv. Suddenly
I caught glimpse of the fair curls on
his dear baby head, and ] softly called
his name. The very next moment I
beheld sight which seemed to freeze
my blood and root me to the spot,
speechless with horror.
My child was seated on stone,
eating his porridge, and close by his
side was huge snake, one Of the
most venomous of its species. Alter
nately that amazing pair took aspoon-
full of the porridgel All at once Isaw
the CHASTITY reptile raise its head. as if
to strike, but instead, gracefully curv-
ing it's head downwards, it took some
milk out of the plate. In anger the
infant struck it with the spoon, saying
at the same time, emo, no! Bonn
Slong! my turn now" Try and re-
alize my astonishmen when the reptile
only covered down in the leaves,
watching the child out of its tiny
bright eyes. My precious little one
finished his porridge, and placing the
plate down, watched whilst the snake
drank up the milk he had evidently
left for it; there seemed to be most
friendly understanding between them.
watched them for some time as in
a dream, and then, calling my son
softly " name, moved forward a
step in fear and trembling. The
snake, at the sound of my voice,
raised itself and, seeing me, disap-
peared from view. Rushing forward,
I clasped my child in my arms, as
though he were some lost treasure
suddenly found again. I smothere1
him with kisses, and no, on a'';',
during the day did I even lose s4su. ol
him.
Anxiously I watched for my hus-
bands home. coming to tell him my
tale of horror. When he had heard
my mornings experience, he viewed
the extraordinary incident with the
same feelings of horror that did. He
agreed that something must be done
on the following day.
Very light was my sleep that night,
and many times did get up and look
at my sleeping baby, thanking God he
was safe, as I beheld his darling
face.
Next morning, when the usual
breakfast hour arrived, I coaxed the
child to have his meal with me on the
stoop, whilst my husband took q plate
of steaming hot milk down to the
rockery, trusting that the well-known
love of snakes for warm milk would
bring "Bom Slong" ont of its nest.
Nor was he deceived. Almost i'm
mediately the snake came gliding
along, but seemed puzzled and some
what suspicious at not finding the
child there as usual. The smell of
the milk, however, soon proved
stronger than its suspicious, and the
dangerous reptile began to drink.
Ny husband at once raised his gun
and fired, killing the snake at one
shot. Then he carefully buried 1t out
of sight. telling me not to say any,
thing to the child. Next day my boy
went to the rockery as usual, and
great was his grief that his strange
companion did not appear. For weeks
he fretted, and watched every morning
for his fearful pet.