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Chapter 7 The Moon
1
© 2017 by McGraw-Hill Education. This is proprietary material solely for authorized instructor use. Not authorized for sale or distribution
in any manner. This document may not be copied, scanned, duplicated, forwarded, distributed, or posted on a website, in whole or part.
CHAPTER 7 THE MOON
Answers to Thought Questions
1. A newly paved road has no potholes. A very old road that hasn’t been paved for a long
time has many. Similarly, the very old lunar surface is heavily cratered, but regions that
have been covered with lava flows more recently (a sort of cosmic ―re-paving‖) have many
fewer craters.
2. Bergmann’s rule suggests that larger animals are better adapted to existing in the cold
than smaller ones—we might expect this means they are less likely to freeze to death—so
therefore the larger animals must stay warm more easily. Larger animals have a larger
volume, and a larger ratio of volume to surface area, so they lose heat less quickly. This is
the same idea as is used in the chapter to explain the difference in temperature between the
Earth’s interior and the Moon’s interior.
3. Since the Earth and the Moon were both hot and melted at the time the material that
makes up the Moon was splashed into orbit, if comets brought water to the Earth it makes
sense it would have to happen after the formation of the Moon. Therefore the Moon should
also have been bombarded with comets and have had significant water deposited on it,
which does not seem to be the case. A counter-argument: the lack of water on the Moon
could also be explained by the fact that it would quickly evaporate in the low or zero
pressure atmosphere, and then the Moon’s low gravity would be unable to hold onto the
water molecules, which would be lost to space fairly quickly. Evidence of water in some
deep, dark craters adds weight to this possibility.
4. On Earth, wind, rain, etc. quickly erode footprints. On the Moon, no such processes
occur. Thus, footprints last until obliterated by meteor impacts - a very, very slow process.
5. If the Moon were not in synchronous rotation, we would still observe the same phases,
but the particular parts of the lunar surface lit up or in shadow would vary (we’d see what is
now the ―far side‖ sometimes). If the Earth and Moon were both in synchronous rotation,
the phases would look much the same as they do today, but would only be visible from the
half of the Earth that could see the Moon. In synchronous rotation, the same half of the
Earth would always face the Moon. (The period of the phases would also be different
because for synchronous rotation the distance to the Moon would not be the same as what it
is now).
6. Students should make a reasoned argument for future missions. Among other results,
missions to the moon have allowed us to (1) place (retro) reflectors on the surface, to make
exact measurements of the distance; (2) place seismic detectors on the surface, to learn
about Moonquakes and the Moon’s internal structure to a greater detail than remote
observing permits; (3) orbiting craft provide detailed gravitational data to map the Moon’s
internal density; (4) the return of lunar rock samples provided critical and specific evidence
about how the Moon’s crust is similar and different to the Earth’s, which strongly affected
our theories of the origin of the Moon (sec. 7.4); (5) missions allowed us to photograph the
far side of the Moon, revealing fewer maria and in combination with other results allowing
us to determine the offset of the Moon’s center from the crust (fig. 7.8); (6) probes in 2009

Chapter 7 The Moon
2
proved the presence of ice in shadowed craters near the Moon’s poles. This data has
significantly constrained models of the Moon’s origin, composition, and structure.
7. If the day were 12 hours long, there would still be 2 tidal bulges and so the time between
the high and low tides would be halved. Currently, as shown in Figure 7.19, if there is a low
tide at 6 a.m., there is a high tide at noon. With the rotation period of the Earth halved, low
and high tides would be approximately 3 hours apart instead of approximately 6 hours apart.
8. As the Moon recedes from the Earth, its gravitational impact is lessened and the tides
will be shorter (think about the solar tides—the Sun is much more massive but so far away
the tides are smaller than the lunar ones). If the Moon were twice as far from the Earth, there
would still be two tides each day (assuming the Earth’s rotational period is about the same).
9. The tides occur about an hour later each day for the same reason that the Moon rises
about an hour later each day: the Moon is moving in its orbit. It takes the Earth about an
hour to catch up to this motion. Since the what tide it is depends on the orientation of the
Earth and Moon (and where you are), it’s actually a little more than 6 hours between each
tide, closer to 6 hours and 13 minutes, and closer to an hour more for the same tide the next
day.
Answers to Problems
1. Moon’s mass to the Earth’s mass: just more than 1%
012
.
0
10
12
10
6
73
10
97
.
5
10
49
.
73
012
.
0
kg
10
97
.
5
kg
10
9
.
734 3
3
24
21
24
20











 

Earth
Moon
m
m
Moon’s radius to the Earth’s radius: a bit more than a 25%:
27
.
0
10
7
.
2
10
64
174
10
64
10
174
27
.
0
km
10
378
.
6
km
10
738
.
1 1
1
2
1
3
3











 

Earth
Moon
r
r
2. If the Mare Serentitatis has an angular diameter of 5 arc minutes, its linear diameter can
be calculated according to the formula D/2d = A/360°, which relates angular diameter (A),
true diameter (D), and distance (d) . Thus, D = 2dA/360°.
To use the formula, we must express A in degrees, not arc minutes. We do this by
recalling that 1 degree contains 60 arc minutes. Inserting this value and the Moon’s distance
in the formula, we get:
D = 2dA/360° = 2(384,000 km)(5' )(1°/60')/360° = 558 km.
Note: the angular diameter has been rounded slightly, and the mare is not exactly circular,
so the value may differ slightly from literature values.
3. The crater Tycho is 88 km wide.
D = 2dA/360°, so

Chapter 7 The Moon
3
A = (360°)(D)/(2d) = (360°) (88 km)/( 2×384,000 km) = 0.01313°.
and 0.01313° × 60'/1° = 0.78’, or 0.78 arc minutes, or 47 arc seconds.
Theoretically, the human eye can manage a resolution of about 20 arc seconds, or 1/3 of an
arc minute (see Chapter 5 problems). At least some people should be able to see this crater
with the naked eye, under ideal conditions, and possibly with a filter if the Moon is very
bright.
4. To calculate the Moon’s density (), divide its mass,
M = 7.349 × 1020
kg = 7.349 × 1023
g,
by its volume. Assuming it is a sphere, its volume is 4r3
/3. Thus, 4r3
/3). Now
insert the values of M and r = 1738 km = 1738 × 105
cm = 1.7 × 108
cm to find,
 = 7.3 × 1025
g/[4(1.7 × 108
cm)3
/3]
= {7.3/[(4 × (1.7)3
]} × 1025
g / (108
cm)3
= 0.35 × 1025-(8×3)
g/cm3
= 0.35 × 10 g/cm3
= 3.5 g/cm3
.
The density of iron is 7.9 g/cm3
. The very low value of the Moon’s density suggests there is
a much smaller fraction of iron in the Moon than in the Earth (average density of 5.5 g/cm3
).
5. If the Moon were made of incompressible Swiss, it’s average density would equal the
density of Swiss cheese, or 1.1 g/cm3
. Since /V, then M = V. So,
M = V = 4r3
/3 = (1.1 g/cm3
) × 4(1.7 × 108
cm)3
/3
= 2.4 × 1025
g = 2.4 × 1022
kg
This is of course about one-third of the Moon’s actual mass (7.3 × 1025
g). An equally valid
and simpler solution to this problem is to notice that the ratio of the density of Swiss cheese
to the actual density must be the same as the ratio of the Moon’s mass if made of cheese to
the Moon’s actual mass and calculate accordingly:
Mcheese = (1.1 g/cm3
/ 3.5 g/cm3
) Mreal = (1.1/3.5) 7.3 × 1025
g = 2.3 × 1025
g.
(The slight difference here is a result of rounding).
6. The Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter orbits the Moon 50 km above the surface with an
orbital period of 113 minutes. Assuming a circular orbit, the modified form of Kepler’s
Third Law (see Chapter 3) gives us m + M = 4
2
d
3
/GP
2
, with M = mass of Moon, m = mass
of spacecraft, d = radius of orbit, and G = 6.67 × 10
-11
m
3
/(kg sec
2
).
Expressing d in meters and P in seconds so that units will cancel,
P = 113 × 60 = 6780 sec
d = 1738 + 50 km = 1788 km
Inserting these values in the law gives

Chapter 7 The Moon
4
m + M = 4
2
× (1788 × 10
3
m)
3
/( (6780s)
2
× 6.67 × 10
-11
m
3
/(kg s
2
) )
= 7.36 × 10
22
kg. However, the mass of the spacecraft, m, is so tiny
compared to the Moon’s mass that we can ignore it. Thus, the measurement of the Moon’s
mass is 7.36 × 10
22
kg (very close to the value in the Appendix).
7. Round trip light-travel time to the Moon and back is 2.56 seconds. The speed of light, c,
is 3 × 10
5
km/s. Using d = vt, with t = 2.56 sec / 2 for the time to the Moon,
D = ct = 3 × 10
5
km/s × 2.56/2 s = 384,000 km.
Conversations will be clumsy because of the extra 2.56s between when you finish asking a
question and when you hear the reply.
8. The surface area of a sphere is 4r2
, and the volume is 4/3r3
. The ratio of the surface
area to the volume is therefore
r
r
r 3
4
3
3
4
2



.
So for the Moon, 3/r = 3/1738 km = 0.0017 km-1
.
For the Earth, 3/r = 3/6378 km = 0.00047 km-1
.
The Moon’s SA to V ratio is 3.6 times larger than the Earth’s – naively we might estimate
the Moon would cool to the same temperature 3.6 times faster than the Earth.
9. The rate at which the length of the day increases is 0.002 s/century.
To find out when the Earth’s day was 5 hours long, we would need to consider how long it
would take for the day to lengthen by 19 hours, or 19 × 60 min/hr × 60 s/min = 68,400s.
68,400s = 0.002s/century × time passed, so
time passed = 68,400s / (0.002 s/century)
= 3.42 × 107
centuries = 3.42 × 109
years
= 3.4 billion years
Answers to Self-Test
1. (d) The maria were formed after the highlands (and after the bombardment of the
highlands).
2. (b) The Moon’s weak gravity makes it hard to hold onto an atmosphere (atoms and
molecules are sufficiently heated to move fast enough to escape).
3. (a) We would observe both sides.
4. (c) Its mantle is cold and rigid.
5. (d) High tide to low tide is about 6 hours (high to high is 12 hours, half a day).

Chapter 7 The Moon
5
6. (a) When it is high tide locally, the Moon is pulling you ―up‖ the most.

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wrestling matches also were listed among the means of
entertainment. Then the weather changed for the worse, and evening
sports were discontinued.
The captain had brought with him eight sheep and a couple of dozen
live chickens, as this ship carried no ice. A sheep was killed each
week, and we had chicken twice weekly, so, between the sheep and
the chickens, we had fresh meat three times a week.
"Keep a look out for Gough Island," suggested the captain to his first
officer, "for it should be in sight by four o'clock." At 4:15 the mate,
opening the door, reported, "Land port abeam, sir!" The island proved
to be a small, rocky and uninhabited sea "oasis." "No more land until
we reach Africa," said the skipper.
The weather had grown stormy, the sea rough, and the Bertha Clay
was rolling badly. She pitched, tossed and rolled so much, in fact, that
the "A. B." had "callouses" on his hips through being slammed back
and forth against the sides of his bunk in the chart room.
Masters of ships usually have an easy time at sea. After they have left
a port, the next few days are occupied in straightening their accounts.
From then on, if the weather be at all favorable, little work is done
save at noontime, when the sun is sighted, by which means alone the
course is maintained. Each officer has a sextant, and from two to four
of these are pointed sunward from ten to fifteen minutes before the
orb has reached the zenith.
A captain of a tramp ship is generally sent from port to port by cable
from the owners to their agent. After the cargo has been unloaded,
he may remain in a port for days, or even weeks, waiting for orders to
sail; but sometimes he has little idea to what part of the world he
may be directed to go. The cable directions may read "Capetown." He
heads his ship for that port, but does not know whence he will be
sent until given instructions by the company's agent on arrival.
The salary paid some sea captains is small, compared to the
responsibility assumed. English and other European shippers pay

masters of tramp ships from $100 to $130 a month, while captains of
American ships receive double that sum. Perquisites, however, may
come to a skipper in connection with his calling. Coal firms generally
give the master of a ship a commission on fuel supplied, and
chandlers maintain the same custom when furnishing stores.
Sea charts with which captains are furnished are marvels of exactness
to a landsman, shoals, rocks, lights, jutting points of land, sea
currents and courses being as clearly marked as are rivers, turnpikes
and railways on land maps. With a good navigator there is little
danger of getting off the course if the sky be clear at noontime. It is
in cloudy periods, when officers cannot get their bearings from the
sun, that danger may occur.
Rainy weather and clear days are the same to a sailor aboard
merchantmen. Though sailors on a tramp ship rest on Sunday,
firemen and officers have no day off. Chinese, Arabs and Indians, the
latter called "lascars," form the crew of a large number of British
ships. From $12 to $16 a month were the wages then paid. On
American ships white sailors receive $40 a month.
Two hundred miles a day was all the Bertha Clay was traveling. Her
smoke funnel was white with salt from the waves of the sea dashing
against it. Some of the officers gathered in the little saloon every
evening, when the hours were whiled away until bedtime by indoor
amusements.
Sea birds of the Southland are different from those that accompany
ships above the equator. No traveler who has the noble albatross as a
companion can refrain from devoting hours and hours of time during
a voyage to watching and admiring the smooth, graceful movements
of this large bird. Sometimes as many as a hundred of these
handsome soarers may be seen encircling the ship for as long as an
hour at a time, seldom flapping their wings. In far southern waters
the albatross generally joins an outgoing vessel from 200 to 400 miles
from shore, and is not seen when a ship is the same distance from
land at the other side of the ocean, although companions for weeks
before. Its color is generally gray and white, but some are snow

white, and occasionally brown-colored ones are seen with the others.
These birds are as large as a swan, some measuring twelve feet from
wingtip to wingtip. But many a sailor has lost his life when falling from
a vessel in parts of the sea inhabited by the albatross. The great bird
will pounce on anything it sees in the water, and, being so strong, the
beak will penetrate the skull of a person at the first attack. Navigators
say that it will not live during transit across the equator. The
mollemoke is another companion sailors have with them when
traveling south of the equator. This bird, while not so large, resembles
the larger specie both in poise and color, and also mingles with the
albatross during a voyage. Feeding on garbage thrown from the ship
seemed to be the chief attraction to the fowl. A very pretty sea bird
seen in far southern waters is the Cape pigeon. The pigeon is as large
as a sea-gull, but in color is like the guinea fowl—spotted white and
black—but of much brighter color. The snowbird is another companion
that follows a ship in the southern seas, but only in sections where
the weather has become chilly. The petrel is also found in these parts,
and still another, a small, dark colored bird, no larger than a swallow,
appears in large numbers at intervals. Sailors call these Mother
Carey's chickens. All these fowl are one's unfettered companions while
traveling through watery Southland, save an occasional whale. Sea-
gulls do not appear.
It was eighteen days since we sailed from Buenos Aires, and twelve of
these had been stormy. The "A. B." was near the captain while he
studied the chart, at 9 o'clock one evening, when the mate came into
the chart room. "Mr. Jones," said the captain to the first officer, "keep
a sharp lookout, as we should see the Cape of Good Hope light by 10
o'clock, or thereabouts." "Aye, aye, sir," he replied, as he passed out,
and then scaled the ladder to the bridge. The sea had calmed as we
neared the African coast. Less than an hour later the skipper and the
"A. B." were chatting, when the door opened. The mate, putting his
head between the door and jamb, in sea manner, announced: "Flash
light port abeam, sir!" It was the Cape of Good Hope light. We had
reached another continent—the African.

For five more days we sailed in sight of the green, treeless hills of
South Africa, using glasses frequently, as may be imagined, eager to
see houses, cattle and grain fields. Finally we came in sight of the
Bluff, the beacon of Port Natal. Soon we were opposite the entrance
channel to the harbor, when anchor was cast. Shortly after a harbor
boat was seen coming through the channel. Later a rowboat, manned
by Zulus, headed toward the Bertha Clay, in which was a white man
dressed in a white suit. The captain shouted to the man in white,
asking if we could get into the harbor before night. It was then nearly
sunset. The answer from the rowboat was, "I'm coming." This was
the skipper's first trip to a country where white clothes were worn,
and he mistook the man in the rowboat to be the port doctor. One
unfamiliar with customs in that part of South Africa—or, in fact,
anywhere—would never dream of seeing a grizzled sea pilot dressed
in an immaculate white suit of clothes. It proved to be the man who
was to steer our ship safely to harbor. "All well?" he inquired—the
usual salute—when his rowboat had reached speaking distance of the
tramp ship. "All well," replied the master of the Bertha Clay. When the
pilot had drawn alongside our vessel, he began to wriggle up the rope
ladder at the side of the ship, the usual means of boarding and
disembarking under such circumstances.
We anchored in the harbor as twilight was hastily changing to
darkness. "Supper is ready," announced the steward when the anchor
chain was silenced. As ship food had no charm for the "A. B." when
land food was available, he hurriedly made steps for the ladder at the
side. This settled matters concerning eating supper aboard ship that
evening, as the captain shouted, "Wait." Soon the skipper also started
down the ladder, and the master of the Bertha Clay and his passenger
had dinner ashore.
We had stepped foot on Leg Two.
The captain wished the "A. B." to return to the ship and sleep in his
recently vacated bunk in the chart room that night—"the last night,"
as he put it—but my feeling of relief at the thought of not having
longer to occupy that "cabin," in which the bedclothing had often

been made damp through waves dashing against and over the ship,
together with several inches of water at times covering the floor,
might be compared to those that one would experience on leaving a
"house of trouble."
"You'll have to come to the port office in the morning and get paid off
and discharged," remarked the captain, after we had finished eating
the best meal we had had for nearly a month. Meeting at the time
designated, the formality of paying off was gone through with, in
accordance with maritime law. The "A. B." was handed $2.40 for his
"work" during the voyage, but the money did not reach his pockets,
as it was handed back to the genial skipper. The provisions of the
"Act" had been complied with—in name.
The Bertha Clay, with her bunkers full of coal, left the following day
for Cochin-China—6,000 miles further east—thirty days' more sailing.
"Sixty cents a day" (the minimum legal charge for a person's food on
English ships) "is all it will cost you if you will come with us,"
inducingly spoke the captain to his discharged "able seaman," while
shaking hands warmly, a short time before the Bertha Clay sailed out
of the harbor. The skipper's generous offer was declined.
The passenger left behind sought the highest point of the seashore to
watch the tramp ship sail on her initial stretch to Asia. She dipped her
nose in the sea and wobbled and pitched as she had done for twenty-
three days during her former voyage. It was not long before only an
outline of the hulk was in view. Then that disappeared altogether,
when all that remained in sight was the smoke funnel. Soon that also
had faded to but a speck, and a short time later the Bertha Clay
became hidden in a hazy horizon.
CHAPTER II

With a population of a hundred thousand, Durban is the chief seaport
of South Africa. Located on the Indian Ocean, it is known also as Port
Natal. Among the inhabitants, colored people of varied races comprise
two-thirds of the population. With the native black there is the Indian,
or Hindu, Arabs, Malays and half-castes from islands located near the
East African coast. The phrase "Darkest Africa" is even more
emphasized by the presence of the dark races that are not natives of
the country.
Untidiness and unsanitary conditions invariably prevail where black
races are in the majority, especially so where the percentage is three
to one white person; but a pleasant surprise is met with here in this
respect, as few cities anywhere surpass Durban in cleanliness,
whether composed entirely of white people or a predominating
number of blacks. Almost the whole white population is British.
To the east and south, as one comes through a channel from the sea
to the harbor, a ridge of land known as the Bluff, thickly verdured with
low trees and wild flowers, offers such an inviting setting to a visitor
that one forms a favorable opinion of Durban before he has stepped
off a ship. That foreground is as green in the winter months as during
the summer, for it is summertime in Durban the year round. After
having passed through the channel into the bay, the harbor is seen
landlocked on one side by the city, and on the other side and end by
the evergreen Bluff and more verdure. It is Durban's splendid harbor,
reasonable port dues, up-to-date facilities for coaling ships, and
splendid docks that has gained for her the title of premier seaport of
the South Indian Ocean. Her modern maritime facilities are the result
of energy by the Durban business man more than to natural
advantages, for the entrance channel had to be dug out and the
harbor dredged.
The business houses are built of brick, cement and stone, some of
them being seven stories high. The stores are large, of fine
appearance, with attractive windows. No place of Durban's size can
boast of better buildings or better stores.

One of the largest and best built structures to be found south of the
equator is the Durban Town Hall. This building, of brick and cement,
is a city block in size and three stories in height. The scope of this hall
may be understood when it is mentioned that under its roof is
contained a public museum, an art gallery, public library, theater,
councilors' chambers, besides offices for the city officials. The building
is not only large and imposing, but the architects have succeeded in
giving the structure an artistic finish. The Town Hall of to-day should
meet the requirements of the Durban Corporation centuries hence,
and would be a credit to a city of a million inhabitants.
A good bathing beach and a well-laid-out and well-appointed park do
not, as a rule, go together, but one finds this dual comfort at this part
of the Indian Ocean. Scattered about the terraced lawn have been
built substantial kiosks and pagodas, with thatched roofs, which lend
to the surroundings a decidedly Oriental air. These have been
provided with comfortable seats, and, with the soft breezes nearly
always coming from the Indian Ocean, enviable restfulness is assured
to even nervous wrecks. Then stone walls, with alcoves built in to add
to the seating capacity of the park, together with flowering vines
creeping up and over and then drooping, form a means of shelter and
rest, adding more attractiveness to the surroundings. Above the
beach and park are splendid hotels, some without doors, and all with
wide, inviting verandas.
Sharks—man-eaters—are so numerous along the Natal coast that the
bathing enclosure is closely studded with iron rods to prevent the
voracious sea beasts from mangling and killing bathers, as would
happen were there no means provided to keep the sharks away from
the holiday-maker.
The Berea is a residential section of Durban, and for landscape and
floral effect is a notable feature. On a range of hills rising several
hundred feet, overlooking the business portion of the city and the
Indian Ocean, many Durbanites live in broad-verandaed homes,
shaded with semi-tropical flowering trees, perpetually blooming
plants, vines growing so luxuriantly that the porches, and often the

sides, of the houses are shut in by a green and floral portière, as it
were. Added to this attractiveness are various species of palms and
clusters of giant and Japanese bamboo. Some of the flowered hedges
enclosing these building plots are so gorgeous in rich color and shape
as to make a Solomon green with envy.
The flambeau tree, indigenous to the Island of Mauritius—"the flower
garden tree," it may be termed—is conspicuous on the Berea, both as
to numbers and floral beauty. This tree, with fern-shaped leaf, does
not grow over twenty-five feet in height, but it is of a spreading
nature, its shade in some instances measuring fifty feet across—twice
its height. It is in flower about a month, from the middle of December
to the middle of January—Junetime south of the equator. The color of
the flower is a bright red, as large and the shape of a sewing thimble,
and grows in clusters of eight and ten in number. When in bloom, this
bright red aerial garden may be seen from a distance of a mile, so the
reader can picture what a gorgeous floral effect is displayed when
hundreds of these handsome trees are in flower at the same time.
The rosebush seemed to be the only plant of the nature of bush or
tree that overrides lines, climates and seas. It is no doubt the most
cosmopolitan plant that grows, and is to be seen in about the same
beauty and diffuses its fragrance in the same degree in nearly all
parts of the world. All the trees seen growing south of the equator
appeared foreign to those growing in the United States.
The Christ thorn—said to be the same as the one that pierced the
brow of the Savior on Mount Calvary—grows abundantly in Natal. In
some instances the bush is used for hedge fences, and when allowed
to grow to a height of from two to four feet it makes a spiky
obstruction, as the prongs are an inch in length, grow numerous on
the stock, little thicker than a knitting needle, and are almost as sharp
as a sewing needle. The thorn, which is of a creeping nature, like a
grapevine, is more generally used as a border for a flower pot,
however. As its name naturally calls up memories of the deep-stained
crime of nearly 2,000 years ago, one scrutinizes it closely. The Christ
is a flowering thorn, and the flower is red, not larger than a wild

strawberry's. These grow in a group from one stem, each cluster
numbering from two to ten flowers—always even—two, four, six, eight
and ten—never in odd numbers.
Some of the trees growing here bud and bloom twice a year. These
interesting changes do not take place in the same way that nature
does her work in the colder climates—by the leaves falling off in the
fall of the year and the buds coming in the spring. With these trees
the old leaf remains until forced off the limb by the new bud. About
six weeks' time is required for nature to change from the old to the
new. During this period new buds bulge from the tips of the limbs,
when the old leaf will fall to the ground. This change is gradually
progressing, until sections of the tree offer a clean, fresh, bright,
green-leafed appearance, while on other parts the dull-green, dust-
soiled leaf offers a striking contrast. Between the months of February
and March and August and September the new leaf replaces the old.
There is really little timber in South Africa, as the trees grow low and
are of a spreading character. Naturally, the shade cast by them is
much wider than that afforded by high trees. Where brush grows, it is
found to be a dense thicket or jungle, in which monkeys disport
themselves at will, and is often the home of the python also, a reptile
frequently seen along the Natal coast. Shooting monkeys in the brush
is a common amusement.
Outside the city are banana plantations, and sometimes patches of
corn and pumpkins. In order to prevent crops from being partly eaten
by monkeys, laborers are out in the fields at daylight setting traps to
catch the "missing links" or shooting them. The monkeys are very
destructive to crops growing in fields bordered by bushy land. A
monkey's gluttony often renders his cunning of no avail, and for that
trait he becomes an easy prey. Calabashes grow everywhere in South
Africa, and it is by this vegetable the monkey is generally trapped.
The calabash is dug out, or partly so, and cornmeal, calabash seeds
and other monkey edibles are put inside and then made fast. A small
hole, just large enough for a monkey to wriggle his supple fingers in
and contracted paw through, is made in the vegetable. When no one

is about, the monkey makes a start for the calabash trap and is soon
eager to find out what is inside. He then begins working his paw
through the opening, and when he has reached the cornmeal, seeds
and other bait he grabs a handful. It is then that his gluttony proves
his downfall. The opening that admitted his empty paw is too small to
allow his clenched fist to be withdrawn, so he pulls and tugs for hours
to get his paw through the hole, but will not let go of the food even
while being put to death by his captors.
"Are there any automobiles in South Africa?" asked a friend in a letter.
Perhaps others will ask a similar question concerning the presence of
other modern appliances in a far-off part of the world. One will not
meet with elevated railroads, tunnels under wide rivers, underground
railway systems, or buildings from twenty to fifty stories in height, for
the reason that the cities of South Africa are not large enough to
require these modern public utilities; but one will meet with modern
electric light systems, telephone, telegraph and wireless telegraphy
systems, automobiles, motorcycles, motor trucks, most up-to-date
fire-fighting apparatus, modern farm machinery, typesetting
machines, web presses—all the modern machinery and appliances
with which cities of the same size in the North are equipped will be
found in the cities of the far Southland.
White drill clothes are worn by two-thirds of the men of Durban; also
white shoes and a white, light-weight helmet. A suit costs from $2.50
to $6, and a wardrobe contains from three to half a dozen. In addition
to the drill, a majority of mechanics and clerks can vary their apparel
by wearing woolen, flannel and even evening-dress suits. Women also
generally adhere to white clothes and often a helmet similar to the
style worn by men, together with white shoes, white hand-bag, and
white parasol.
The standard of intelligence of the people is high. A majority in the
coast cities are from the United Kingdom. Scotch and English are the
more numerous, the Irish and Welsh being less in evidence. Among a
group of men, the colonials (white persons born in South Africa of
British parents) are nearly always in the minority.

It is only in very small towns in South Africa where a public library
would not be open to all who wished to take advantage of its
benefits. Durban is well supplied with public schools, a technical
school open for both day and night classes; Y. M. C. A., Y. W. C. A.
institutions, splendid library, art gallery, museum; is thickly spired and
turreted with good church buildings; and, for recreation, there is a
promenade, fringed with beautiful palms and shady trees, with seats
under them, for a mile on one side, and the bay on the other; parks
and sports grounds scattered throughout the city; a botanical garden
and a zoological park. All these institutions of education, religion and
recreation are to be found 10,000 miles from America, on the fringe
of "Darkest Africa."
In order that the reader may clearly distinguish between white and
black, a note of the distinctive terms in use here might not be out of
place. A "native" is a kafir or negro; a "colonial" is one born in South
Africa of white parents, generally applied to English-speaking people;
Dutch means a Boer, and Boer means Dutch; the word "Africander"
also means Dutch. But for all whites—Dutch, colonial, and foreign-
born—the word "European" is used to designate the white from the
black. The word "white" is seldom used. Indian coolie, or Indian, is a
native of India, or of Indian parentage. "Colored" means a person of
Malay and white blood. Half-castes are of negro and white blood. A
"boy" means a kafir servant or a laborer. A native servant 40 years of
age would be called a "boy."
House servants in South Africa are native boys, and Indian women
and girls are often employed as nurses. Occasionally one sees a
native woman looking after children; but the native boy—the
"umfaan," as he is called in the Zulu language—from 10 to 18 years
of age, is the standby as a house servant in the Province of Natal.
The houseboy wears clothes that denote his occupation, and
generally presents a neat appearance. His wage varies from $2 to $5
a month. Most of the umfaans make good servants, particularly the
Zulu boys. Unlike his American brother, he is an early riser.

"Umfaan peril—protection for the children"—is the light in which a
great many of the Europeans see their dependency on the umfaan as
the servant. While Indian women and some native women look after
the children, more umfaans will be seen wheeling baby carriages than
black maids. Such a thing as a European servant is almost unheard of
in South Africa. So, how to have the children looked after by other
than black male servants is a burning question in the province.
Conventions are held regularly at the instance of women's children
protection societies, leagues and similar organizations, at which the
ablest minds of the country deal with the "umfaan peril." But no
solution has yet been found to check the degradation that follows in
the wake of such a system of taking care of children. Men and women
who have made a study of the "peril," and who are familiar with
customs, are loth to place all the blame for undesirable conditions on
the native, nevertheless. A large number of native girls are not
allowed by their parents to come to the cities or towns as servants.
While they live in the kraal on the veld no concern is felt for the future
of the girls; but so soon as they leave the native hut to go into service
in the towns their future is in doubt. So, with no native girls to be had
as servants, the umfaan's services for the present are indispensable.
South Africa has proved an Arcadia for a great number of poor girls.
Mill and shop girls of Great Britain who had dreamed of being the wife
of a man dressed in white clothes from feet to head, of living in a
wide verandaed house, trellised all around, with flowering vines
climbing all about the porch, with the picture varied by the hum of
bees or humming birds; with palms, exotics and flowers growing
about the house and yard; with bearing banana plants, mango trees
and rows of luscious pineapples growing in the yard—all encompassed
by a flowering hedge of big, bright hibiscus bush; with a foreground
of a steepled city and a broad blue ocean, and a background of
spreading fern-leafed trees emblazoned with scarlet and lavender-
colored flowers; with an ayah (Indian maid) to be at her beck and call
and a black boy to do the housework and bring her breakfast to her
room; to be drawn from her home to the shopping center of the city
and back by a big and swift Zulu ricksha puller, with long cow horns
secured to each side of his head—that dream has come true to

thousands of poor girls who have married in this section of South
Africa.
Most wives from Great Britain, however, prove white elephants to men
living in the colonies. They are eternally going "home," as the British
Isles are termed, and the husband's nose is "kept on the grindstone"
to meet the expense required. The home "holiday" is seldom less than
six months, and is frequently eighteen months, during which period
the husband is maintaining two homes—the one in the colony and
sending money to Great Britain to meet the expense of his family in
that country. On the other hand, the climate of Southern Natal and
Zululand is hard on the white woman. The easy life they live, and
their fascinating surroundings, are not reflected in face or in physique.
It is unusual to see a buxom, rosy-cheeked woman or girl in Durban.
The face is white and features lifeless. The climate in that part of
South Africa seems to not only make them jaded, but crow's-feet and
deeper wrinkles mark the faces of most women at a period in life
when the features should be free of these ageing signs. The children
suffer from the climate to the same degree as the women, most of
them having thin bodies, thin arms, thin blood and spindled legs. Men
also are affected by the climate, but not to the same degree as
women and children. Illustrative of the size of men in Southern Natal,
it may be noted that ready made suits of clothes of size 40 and over
are not kept in stock by merchants, as there is no call for them; few
men attain that girth. It is doubtful also if one could find a collar of
size 17.
The horse of Natal is a hungry-looking beast. This is owing to the
grass generally being of a wiry nature, which the animal cannot
digest, and a better quality, if eaten when dew is on it, proves very
injurious to the system. Smoldering fires are lit in stables in the
evening so that the smoke will keep mosquitoes from the premises.
These insects are said to inject disease germs into any horse they
bite. Large, vicious flies prove another menace to horses. The bite of
these flies often draws blood, and as a result white hairs grow from
the bitten parts. So many of these white hair spots appear on the
bodies of black and bay horses that they often give a beast the

appearance of being an iron-gray color. In certain sections of the
Province of Natal horses cannot live.
Favored with a delightful climate and a good bathing beach, Durban is
a noted winter resort in that part of the world. The weather during
the "season"—from May to October—is like the American Indian
summer save for the absence of Jack Frost. At this time of year
people from Johannesburg and other sections of the high veld come
in large numbers to this point of the coast to spend their vacations.
Circuses also pay their annual visits; hotel-keepers raise prices;
rooming house proprietors double rates; fakirs are numerous;
talented tramps—street singers—are heard in front of hotels, looking
for any spare change that may come from verandas and windows;
Zulu ricksha pullers become ambitious for an extra "holiday" fare—
every one tries to get rich off the visitor, and the air is charged with
music, merriment and life at every turn.
In the way of amusement, moving pictures predominate, although
theatrical people of world reputation frequently tour South Africa.
Concerts in the Town Hall Sunday evenings, held under municipal
auspices, are a popular form of entertainment, these being in charge
of the borough organist, a city official. Military bands in the gala
season entertain the populace morning, afternoon and evening at the
Beach and in parks. Besides these attractions, boating, fishing, horse
racing, military sports tournaments, and the general athletic sports
figure largely in the life of the place.
Dwellings are nearly always at a premium, these renting for from $15
to $35 a month; but few houses are available for the lesser sum. The
standard of living may be gauged by these charges, as people
receiving small salaries could not pay high rentals. The wages of
clerks, salesmen and mechanics range from $65 to $100 a month. In
many Durban homes will be found a piano, a phonograph, good
furniture, often a good collection of horns and skins, pictures—the
home of no workingman of any country could be better furnished
than the Durban breadwinner's.

"Did you attend the funeral yesterday?" was asked of a lady whose
relative had been buried the day before. "Oh, no!" she answered,
much surprised at the question; "only men attend funerals." The
absence of women at subsequent burials proved this to be the custom
here. A body must be put under ground within 24 hours after death.
Were a person to die at 7 o'clock in the morning, the burial would
take place during the day. When information has been given that a
person has died, it is understood that the funeral will take place in a
few hours.
One making a visit to the black belts would use good judgment were
he to leave behind the word "woman" when applied to white women.
"Woman" in these countries is used only when speaking of black or
colored persons. "Lady" is always used when referring to a white
woman. One will find a similar distinction in vogue in the negro
sections of the United States.
"Toff" is an English term used to denote a good dresser—a sort of
dandy. As most of the clothes worn by men are tailor-made, a great
many "toffs" may be seen in Durban. The cheapest suit one can have
made costs $22, but from $25 to $40 is the general price.
Natal, unlike the other provinces of South Africa, has always been
English, particularly the coast section, which accounts for few
manufacturers being in evidence from other countries. But among
American products are shoes, sewing machines and illuminating oil.
Some powerful locomotives in use are of American manufacture and
are imported chiefly to pull trains up heavy grades. The cooking stove
in general use here is the kerosene oil sort, most of them of American
make. In recent years, exports from the United States to the sub-
continent (as South Africa is often termed) have increased to the
creditable figures of 35 to 40 per cent.
"Will you please look at the fireless stove?" a saleslady asked, as a
group of women passed a "kitchen" stall in a fair ground on a
provincial fair day. Turning about, there was a dish of baked beans,
seldom seen away from America; an apple pie, an article of food as
scarce in foreign parts as hens' teeth; a roast chicken, soda biscuits

(called scones in British territory) and baked potatoes. The whole
outfit had America stamped on it very strongly. All the women
stopped to witness the fireless stove "demonstration." "Where's the
fire?" asked one of the women. Then the "demonstration" began,
both in action and word. Her auditors looked with staring eyes and
open-mouth as the agent showed them and explained its working.
Comparatively few Americans live in the Province of Natal, as at a
luncheon given by the American Consul's wife to her countrymen "a
table held us all"—thirty being present. Invitations had been sent to a
larger number, but as some of these were missionaries located in
remote places of the country all did not attend. The luncheon was
served on a Fourth of July, and what a pleasant gathering it proved to
be. Some of those present had been away from their native country
as long as forty years. Pleasant chats, speeches, toasts—the season
of good fellowship that prevailed at that Fourth of July gathering,
when we were all 10,000 miles from home, will remain among the
longest cherished memories that those present will carry with them
through life.
Though lighting, water, a telephone system and street railways are
owned by the city, municipal ownership does not augur cheaper prices
in Durban, in spite of the fact that the rates charged the consumer
and patron insure the city not only a fair return on the capital
invested, but generally a snug surplus is shown besides. Street cars
are of double-deck style, but the fare is high. The system of paying is
by "stage"—four cents from stage to stage, and the distance between
"stages" is so arranged that the city receives about three cents a mile
from its patrons. Conductors and motormen are Europeans.
While the street car system gives employment to white men, it is the
only department of the city that does so. The park system and the
street department work is done entirely by Indian coolies, who
receive from $3 to $5 a month. They are the most hungry looking,
bony, spindle-legged lot of creatures one might set eyes on; but it is
largely due to this cheap help that the Durban treasury is in such
good condition.

The Indian coolie is tricky, treacherous, lying, lazy, dirty and repulsive.
He has about his loins a rag just big enough to cover his nakedness,
while the wrapping around his head—his puggaree—is as large as a
bed sheet. In other words, he makes a loin piece out of a
handkerchief, but requires yards of cloth for a head covering.
Sugar growing being the principal industry of southern Natal, the
Indian coolie was imported to work in the sugar-cane fields. Tea also
is grown in the southern part of the province, and Indians are used in
that industry, receiving from $3 to $5 a month and board. As his main
food is rice, board does not cost much; and as he sleeps in any sort
of a shed, the sugar grower is not put to great expense for beds and
bedding. The coolie used to be brought to South Africa under what
was termed the "indenture system," the indentureship periods being
from three to five years, during which he could not leave his
employer. It was a mild form of slavery. At the end of his
indentureship he was generally shipped back to India, but could be
re-employed there and return to Africa. The sugar company paid his
transportation either way. But that expense did not greatly shrink the
growers' pocketbooks, as the coolie was shipped in the hold of a ship,
which, when packed with this class, resembled a great ant-hill.
Serving two and three terms of successive indentureship to the same
employer gained for him his freedom, when he could remain in Natal.
From then on he became a curse. The Dutch came in full control of
South Africa on May 30, 1910, and a month later marked the end of
indentured coolies entering the sub-continent.
As is generally known, Indian girls become mothers at the age of
from 12 to 14 years. Added to a resulting abnormal birth rate,
compared with Europeans, polygamy is also a custom of the Indians.
Thus will readily appear the great danger to the white interest where
the Indian gets a foothold.
The Indian patronizes his own people, and for this reason many of the
Arab and Hindu merchants soon become wealthy. They aim to oust
the white man wherever and whenever they can do so. Their
standard of living is so much lower, and their employees work for so

much less than the white merchant must pay European help, that
they can undersell the white in most lines of business. Some of the
wealthiest men in the province are Indian merchants.
Most of the money in use in South Africa is gold—gold sovereigns—
and silver. The gold sovereign is what the Indian is after. His savings
are sent to India in gold. Through the Durban post office was sent not
long since 65,000 gold sovereigns. Bankers and business men
appealed to the government to put a stop to sending this metal out of
the country, and when that method of depleting the gold currency
had been checked, it was sent to India secretly, most of it in packing
boxes, there being a large trade between the two countries.
The Indian having become a running sore on the financial and social
body of Natal, the government has tried to tax the race out of the
country. The legal age of a girl is placed at thirteen years and that of
a boy at sixteen years. The tax on "legal" aged Indians is $15 a year.
So, if an Indian father had three girls over thirteen years of age, and
two sons over sixteen, making seven in the family of legal age, the
head tax would be $105. To impose such an exorbitant tax on poor,
low paid people seems a hardship. No "melting pot" that ever
simmered will assimilate the Indian with the white race, however.
They bring with them filthy habits and weird customs, and live the life
of an Indian in whatever part of the world they may be located.
The destruction of the "gods"—Mohurrum festival—is one of the great
holidays of the Indians in Natal. This is the closing climax of a
Mohammedan ten-day festival. The festival takes place each year,
which shows that Indians do not worship stale gods, as a new one
comes into existence ten days after the drowning of the old gods. The
gods on this occasion were drowned in the Umgeni River, about three
miles from Durban.
The fantastic hearses, in design a strange mixture of mosque and
pagoda, made up of bamboo framework covered with bright colored
paper and lavishly decorated with tinsel and gaudy ornaments, most
of them surmounted by the star and crescent on a dome, emblematic
of the Moslem faith, were followed by Indian women in brightly

colored garments, and grotesquely painted men scantily clad in loin
cloths, weird headpieces, and other trappings, who conveyed the
gods to the river. Above the noise that followed this gay holiday
crowd, bent on the destruction of Indian gods, could be heard the
monotonous and ear-racking din of the tomtom, together with a
prehistoric bagpipe here and there, and these were the only musical
instruments in use to demonstrate the feelings of this motley crowd.
The pagodas are called "taboots," and when these came to a halt—
they were drawn by men—the "tigers," men besmeared with lead,
ochre and yellow-colored mud and grease from head to foot, would
give exhibitions of contortions, which must have been pleasing to the
slowly moving gods. At the river where the gods were to meet their
death had gathered a great crowd of Indians, natives and Europeans
to witness the last part played in the Mohurrum fast and festival.
"Taboot" after "taboot" was tipped and hurled into the stream, after
the priests had taken rice and other grain from it, which they tossed
into a small fire burning in an urn. The shallow river was swarming
with youngsters, and no sooner had a "taboot" reached the water
than the boys were at it, and in a short time it was a shapeless wreck.
On the shore of the Indian Ocean a group of Hindus were observing a
repulsive form of the Buddhist religion. About a dozen in number, they
assembled round a brass urn, six inches across and three deep, in
which burned an oil fire. Half of this number formed what we may call
an orchestra. Two of the instruments were tomtoms and the others
rounded pieces of wood, bored out, as large as a croquet ball, and
with brass bells attached. These were put over the players' hands,
rattling as they moved their wrists, the other members at the same
time chanting a dump. Close to the urn stood a cone-shaped wooden
frame, two feet high and eighteen inches at the base, covered with
flowers. To the rear lay three live hens, with strings tied to their legs.
The Hindus then started toward the water to the accompaniment of
bells and tomtoms. Leading were three men, the one between, who
appeared nervous, being aided by those on each side. One of the trio
had thick, black hair reaching to the waist, but none wore head
covering. When the three had waded in up to the armpits, the center

man was ducked a number of times. The music then ceased for a
short period, after which all returned to the urn. The Indian who had
been immersed turned out to be a convert to this fanatical sect.
The orchestra resumed the chant, the man with the long hair and the
convert kneeling by the fire, the third one, a priest, standing. The
former began bending his body backward and forward, his head
touching the sand at each movement, also running his fingers
through his hair. The convert followed the actions of the other. Both
worked themselves into a state of weakness, verging on collapse,
during which their hands, at times, came in contact with the flame in
the urn, but none of the members made any effort to turn their hands
from the fire, which, of course were burned. At this stage of the
ceremony both men, their eyes rolling and only the whites showing,
lay on the sand, exhausted. The chant ceased. The priest approached
the apparently lifeless Indians with a phial in his hands. He next
placed the open end of the bottle to the nose of one, then to the
other, the Hindus raising themselves to their knees as the orchestra
resumed.
The half-revived convert then put out his tongue, the priest advancing
with what looked like an oyster fork in his hand. The orchestra
stopped—all was silent. He next took hold of the dazed, hand-burnt
disciple's tongue in one hand, and forced the tines of the fork through
that member with the other; then, quickly stepping to the cone, took
two flowers—lavender and yellow in color—and, returning, put one
flower on top of the tongue, the other underneath. No blood flowed
from the penetrated member. The Hindu stood up, apparently in a
trance, his tongue spiked. The priest again alertly stepped back and
returned with a chicken, snapping the hen's head off as if cut with a
scissors. The blood from the headless fowl was sprinkled over the
convert; then another hen was brought, killed likewise, its blood also
being sprayed over the supplicant, when the orchestra played. The
follower next bended to his knees, after which the flower cone was
lifted on his head. He rose; then the group, to the accompaniment of
the "music," walked over sand dunes in the direction of a mosque,

where, it was said, the fork would be withdrawn from the inducted
Asiatic's tongue.
The Zulu ricksha puller is the most striking feature of that interesting
city to a visitor, as he proves an object of much curiosity and
admiration. He is in a class by himself. In stature, he stands from 5
feet 6 inches to 6 feet 4 inches; in color, darker than a mulatto, but
not black; with bare legs, strong, muscular and fleet of foot; generally
ready to smile, showing his perfect teeth; standing between two
shafts by which he draws the ricksha, watching eagerly for a fare—
this gives but a meager illustration of the Zulu ricksha puller.
The Zulu reaches the culmination of vanity when he has fixed himself
up to look like, and to imitate the actions of, an ox, horse or mule, for
he has a veneration for these dumb animals. The larger the horns he
can wear, which are secured to a piece of cloth that fits tight to the
head, the better he is pleased. A number of long feathers often
extend from between the horns, and vari-colored grass and thin
reeds, also attached to the same place, fall to and below the
waistline. Added to this head adornment, calabashes, sometimes as
large as a cantaloupe, protrude from the side of his head. His jacket,
sleeveless, which bears designs of plaids and squares, resembling a
checker-board, extends midway between thigh and knee. His pants
are a slit knickerbocker, also extending to halfway between thigh and
knee, but from the hem fall strips of red braid six inches below. The
pants are split to allow his legs freedom when drawing the vehicle.
The ricksha puller is eternally trying to think of something fantastic
and grotesque to wear. One fellow may be seen with his legs and feet
painted blue, representing the sky, with white spots dotted here and
there to represent stars, another with both legs painted white. At
times one leg is painted red and the other white. Also may be seen,
fastened to the puller's horns, the skull of a calf or sheep, or perhaps
of a monkey. Monkey skins, with tails attached, are worn, one in front
and the other on the back. Again, a discarded plug hat may be hung
on one horn and an empty vegetable can on the other while he is
pulling a passenger about the city. Sometimes his head looks like a

small flower garden, as he is seen trundling his ricksha about with
bright red hibiscus and carnations sticking out of his black, woolly
head at the top and from the sides. At night a small light—generally a
candle—attached to the axle of his sulky, may be seen at the sides of
streets and showing from dark alleys or from under a spreading tree.
The puller will jingle the little bell on the shafts of his ricksha to
attract the attention of a passerby. The weird trappings, with the dim
outline of the Zulu, together with his long horns showing from the
darkness, will not inspire confidence in one unfamiliar with the native
puller. In short, he appears fantastically inhuman by day and
grotesquely brutish by night. His physique, however, is an object of
admiration; mentally, he is a child.
The ricksha is a two-wheeled, two-shaft sulky, with rubber tired
wheels, upholstered, and will seat two persons. A hood is attached to
the seating box like that of a carriage. A small bell hangs from one of
the shafts, which the puller sounds to give warning of his coming.
Under, from the center of the axle depends a bar of iron with a small
wheel at the end. This bar prevents passengers from falling out if the
ricksha should tip while going up hill. The service is good and the fare
cheap—from 6 to 50 cents—the different fare stages being printed on
a card. Like every one engaged in similar occupations, the puller
knows a stranger, and succeeds often in getting more than the just
fare from men, but women generally ask for the schedule card.
"Ricksha!" is the only word shouted when a puller is wanted. Regular
stands for them are located in different parts of the city, and if one
feels depressed in spirits and wishes to get out of the "dumps," a
good way to have the "cloud" lifted is to shout "Ricksha!" when within
200 to 300 feet from where fifteen to twenty of the pullers are
chatting and waiting for a fare. Every one of them will spring between
the shafts, like fire horses to harness, and make a dash at full speed
to the person who shouted. The noise and rattle a group of pullers
make in approaching sounds almost like a collision between two
railway trains.

The puller rests the shafts on the ground while his passenger is being
seated. He holds his big, strong, flat foot on the thills, so the vehicle
will not slip while one is getting aboard, until his patron tells him to
go. If one cannot speak the native language, not a word will be
spoken, for rarely does one meet a native who can speak English. The
passenger points his finger in the direction he wishes to be drawn.
The Zulu raises the shafts and, after a few slow, heavy pulls to get
the vehicle started, one is spinning along as fast as a trolley car
travels.

Jim Fish Was the Swiftest Puller that Ever
Wore a Brace of Horns.
Durban, South Africa.
"Jim Fish!" "Jim Fish!" they will call to a passerby, at the same time
ringing the small bell on the shafts, while advancing and acting in a
manner that suggests the person being approached had forgotten to
call a puller. Jim Fish was the swiftest puller that ever wore a brace
of horns. In a three mile race with a trolley car Jim came out ahead,
but, like Pheidippides, the Greek of the dusty past, after whose run
the Marathon has been named, he fell dead when he had crossed

the finish line. By calling out "Jim Fish" the Zulus imagine the name
suggests a fast ride.
The puller appears at his best when traveling down grade. Just at
the head of the decline he jerks the shafts upward—this movement
bringing his back close to the dashboard—when his arms rest
akimbo on the thills. He maintains his full height during this change
of position, which is in accordance with professional ricksha pullers'
custom. The sulky naturally tilting backward—also the occupants—
his body is nearer the axle of his vehicle than when traveling over a
level or inclined surface. Aided by the weight of his passengers, the
ricksha is then almost evenly balanced. Riding on the shafts, he
throws to one side, like a jumping-jack, the big leg bearing the
painted design of the sky or openwork, and his unpainted leg to the
other. He also moves his body from side to side and assumes a
labored expression, although resting while being borne on the
shafts. His body movement and stern appearance are affected, and
are, as he believes, in keeping with that of a racehorse when coming
down the home stretch, which he is imitating. His horns and their
adornment, together with the colored grass streamers, feathers,
monkey tails, checkerboard designed jacket, calabashes, braid,
flowers—all his trappings are then set full to the wind, as the Zulu
seems to actually fly through space.
In stormy weather, which means good business for the puller, the
hood is raised, and a piece of canvas that covers the front of the
ricksha is buttoned to the sides, which protects the occupant from
rain both from above and in front. Off the Zulu goes, after he has
tucked the rug under his passenger's feet and has seen to it that the
canvas shelters his fare. The rain may be coming down in torrents,
and the water half knee deep in the streets, with the handicap of the
raised hood and front canvas against him; but patter, patter, patter
he will continue, watching for depressions, in order to sidestep them
so that his passenger will not be jolted, until he has reached the
place at which his fare wishes to alight. He will take one home in
any sort of weather, as his strong legs and body rarely fail him.

The puller will often have nothing on but the jacket, short, split-leg
pants and trappings. He does not go to his living quarters—the
ricksha stable—and get dry clothes, as one might expect him to do,
but trundles his sulky about in the rain looking for another fare. He
pulls a ricksha from two to three years, when consumption generally
claims him as a victim.
Twelve hundred of these stalwart natives were formerly engaged in
this kind of work, but now there are less than a thousand. The
extension of street car lines from time to time accounts for the
decrease.
The rickshas are owned by a company, and 60 cents a day is paid by
the puller for its use. All he makes over 60 cents is his own. It is said
he often earns from $2 to $3 a day, but there are also days when his
fares do not exceed the rent charge. Most of the pullers work but
four days a week.
A "curfew" bell rings at 9 o'clock each evening, and the only native
seen about the streets who is immune from arrest after that hour is
the ricksha puller. After "curfew" a native carries a pass or a note
from his employer, either of which will save him from being taken to
a police station. It is very amusing at times to watch a Zulu
policeman question a native as to why he is out late. His only
protection is the note or his pass, which the policeman makes
pretense at reading, though he does not know A from B.
This dusky guardian of the peace is next in interest to the ricksha
puller. His uniform is a jacket, dark blue in color, that reaches just
below the waist band. His pants are of the same material, reaching
to and covering the kneecap, where it is buttoned tight. His legs
from his knees down are bare and shine like polished ebony, for they
are oiled every day. He wears a stingy head piece called a forage
cap, generally made of blue cloth, which covers about one-third of
the head—the side—from the arch of the ear to within two inches of
the crown. This is held in place by a string looping under his chin or
resting between the chin and lower lip. Some caps have a red stripe

across the top, and all have a dent or crease. His weapon is a
knobkerry, a stick an inch round, with a knob on it as large as a
croquet ball. A pair of handcuffs is also included among this Zulu
officer's equipment.
The European policeman of Durban, as many European women of
that city, have an easy job. The native police do any "rough" work
required to subdue black offenders, as Europeans, to whom the
white policeman would give his attention, are as a rule law abiding.
The native carries his superior's raincoat, overcoat, or any burden
that the white officer might need while on duty. A black policeman is
not permitted to arrest a European, no matter how serious the
offense against the law might be. The worst offenders are Indians;
but big thefts, safe-blowing, house breaking, hold-ups, sand-
bagging, etc., are few, which indicates the respect people have for
the law in this British stronghold. White policemen receive $75 a
month, and natives $15 a month and board. The working time is
eight hours a day, with three shifts.
A large building without an entrance door would appear as
something unusual in Northern cities; and yet one can find such an
oddity in the far Southland. The one in question is built of brick,
three stories in height, and contains a hundred furnished rooms. The
entrance is a high archway, and just inside is an elevator and
stairway. It is an English custom to leave one's shoes outside his
room door on going to bed, so that "boots" can polish them in the
morning. In front of each room, on each side of the aisles, in this
hostelry could often be seen from one to four pairs of shoes, yet
every pair would be found in the morning where they had been
placed the night before, although no porter guards the entrance of
the building nor a night watchman the interior.
Meat is about the same price in South Africa as in America. Beef,
mutton, chicken and pork cannot be had for less than 15 to 25 cents
a pound. Irish potatoes are expensive, as most of this standby is
imported. Eggs sell at 35 to 60 cents a dozen. Apples are imported
from Australia and Canada.

Pineapples, oranges and bananas are found on the table of nearly
every household the year round. Then there are, among other
varieties of seasonable fruit, the mango, guava, grenadilla and
avacada pear. The pineapple, when picked ripe, is as soft as our
pear. These native fruits sell at a reasonable figure. A hundred
bananas can often be bought for six cents.
Hotel expenses are reasonable, $2 a day insuring good
accommodation. In boarding houses, good board and lodging can be
had at from $30 to $35 a month. Splendid furnished rooms can be
rented at from $10 to $15 a month. Meals in popular priced
restaurants cost 30 and 35 cents.
The sun rises from the Indian Ocean here and travels during the day
on an almost straight course, shining on the south side of the street,
the north side being partly shaded. For this reason the principal
business street of Durban is roofed on the south side, as it is
exposed to the sun from morning until sunset. The cold and warm
winds also come from a different direction than those above the
equator—the warm winds from the north and the cold winds from
the south. Even the sun seems to rise in the west and set in the
east.
Wages paid mechanics range from $3 to $4 a day of eight hours'
work. Such employment as teamster, hod carrier, street laborer,
'longshoreman, and park worker is all done by Indians and natives.
The native is paid from 25 to 50 cents a day, the latter figure being
considered good wages, while the Indian works for 10 to 15 cents a
day. Hotel work, waiting on tables, kitchen work, and even cooking,
with a few exceptions, is done by blacks, chiefly Indians.
A white man "on his uppers" in Durban, or in any black center, for
that part, is to be pitied. If he be a mechanic, his chances for work
are none too good, and if he be an unskilled worker there is no
chance for him at all, as blacks do all the work of that sort. The
United States and Canada are the only countries—possibly Mexico,
too—in which one can travel on railroad trains without paying fare or

being put into a penitentiary. Walking on a railway track in Europe is
a prison offense. So, taking that as one's cue, a man caught stealing
a ride on a train might be tried for treason. As Durban is 7,000 miles
from England, 4,500 miles from the Argentine, 6,000 miles from
Australia and 5,000 from India, a fellow "broke" in the coast cities of
South Africa is in a sorrowful plight. The cheapest steamship
passage from South African ports to England is $80 to $100.
Labor unions exist in South Africa, and the members take an active
part in politics. Not long since a spirited campaign was on for a seat
in the Senate. One of the foremost business men of that country
was a candidate for the office, and a union labor man, a locomotive
engineer by trade, was the opposing candidate. The lines were
tightly drawn between capital and labor in that senatorial contest.
The "one-man-one-vote" clause has yet to be drafted into the
constitution of the Union of South Africa. Only a citizen paying a
certain amount of tax during the year is allowed to vote. On the
other hand, a man holding much property, and this scattered about
the country, can, as in England, vote in as many districts as his
property is located. A wealthy man may cast half a dozen votes at an
election, while the workingman taxpayer will not, as a rule, have
more than one vote. The capitalist candidate for the Senate in this
election had four votes to cast, while the railroad man had but one.
A widely known man from the Transvaal was imported to Natal to do
"heavy work" for the wealthy candidate, and prominent labor men
from the Transvaal and the Cape of Good Hope Provinces were
saying and doing all they could to make votes for their candidate.
"We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang
separately," a labor campaigner was heard to say at one gathering,
quoting Benjamin Franklin's cynical epigram. "Of the people, by the
people, and for the people," Abraham Lincoln's immortal words,
were also used during the campaign. But the speakers of both
parties were tyros compared to the American brand of spellbinder.
Election day came, and he who had plural votes cast them, and he
who had one vote cast it. The result of an election is made known

by a judge announcing the figures from the balcony of the Town
Hall. "Hear, ye! Hear ye!" a voice was heard to command, the judge
addressing the people assembled. The engineer had 36 more votes
than his wealthy competitor, and was the third labor legislator
elected to the South African Upper House.
Every mechanic has his "boy"—the bricklayer, carpenter, plumber,
electrician, painter—to wait on him. One might be located in the
black belt for years and not see a mechanic carry even a pair of
overalls. A mechanic may be seen any time, when working, asking
his "boy" to hand a tool that would not be two inches beyond his
natural reach. A bricklayer becomes so painfully helpless that he will
neither stoop nor reach for a brick; that is what his "boy" is for. The
carpenter must saw boards, because the native cannot saw straight,
but in every other respect he is just as helpless as the bricklayer.
Clerks even have a "boy" to hand a pen or any other thing they
might need in connection with their work. The only tradesman
observed who did his work without the aid of a "boy" was the printer
and linotype operator. And what applies to printers may be said of
editors and others engaged in the printing trade. They really work in
the old-fashioned way. Were one to take a spade in hand to prepare
the garden for vegetables, merely that act of manual labor would be
very apt to prove a bar to a further continuance of the respect of his
European neighbors, and assuredly so by the natives and Indians.
The white man is always at his minimum energy where the black
man is depended on to do the work. We need not go farther than
our Southern States to learn that lesson.
Vasco da Gama, a Portuguese explorer, discovered the Province of
Natal five years after Columbus set foot on the North American
Continent. Da Gama's first visit to Natal was on Christmas Day in the
year 1497. As Christmas Day is the natal day of the Savior, and as
the word natal in the Spanish and Portuguese languages is used as
is the word birth in the English language, this will explain the origin
of the naming of Natal.

For more than three hundred years that section of South Africa
remained as Da Gama found it before white men made a settlement
among the Zulus. In 1824 a few Englishmen built temporary dwelling
places on the shores of the Indian Ocean, more Englishmen joining
them from time to time, until Durban has become one of the leading
seaport cities of the African continent. The coast section of the
Province of Natal is the only part of South Africa in which the Dutch
were not the pioneers.
A great many humpback whales inhabit the Indian Ocean in the
stretch of sea, nearly a thousand miles long, separating Durban from
Capetown. Of late years whales have been hunted on a large scale,
and each season finds a new whaling company in the field to share
in the profits of this lucrative industry. Eight or ten factories, or
stations, most of these located a few miles from Durban, are now
engaged in utilizing the by-products of the whale.
Harpooning whales, or whaling—to use the general term—is
engaged in at places separated by thousands of nautical miles, and,
like other water industries, has its season. Whales, like wild fowl,
migrate at certain seasons to some particular part of the great water
expanse, and return again the succeeding year. By nature, this
cetacean prefers a cold climate to a warm one. The season for their
migration is at a different period to that of the wild fowl, for the
"spouter" leaves the zone of the hot sun and swims great distances
until he reaches cooler water. Sometimes it is from the North Atlantic
to the South Atlantic or Indian Oceans, and at others from the
Indian Ocean southeasterly to the South Pacific Ocean, the water of
which is cooled by the icebergs of the South Pole section. Whales
leaving the North Atlantic in early summer for the South Atlantic
Ocean know it is cooler south of the equator than north of it.
Americans and Norwegians engaged early in the whaling business in
the North Atlantic Ocean, and up to a few years ago American
whaling ships made frequent visits to the South Atlantic and Indian
Oceans in quest of the oil-producing leviathan. But it is to the
Norwegian that credit must be given for building up the whaling

industry in the Indian Ocean, thereby putting in circulation a large
sum of money each season that, until recent years, had been
overlooked.
From 600 to 800 of these monsters of the deep are harpooned and
rendered into oil in the Durban factories in a season—from June to
November, inclusive—the cool season in that part of the world.
Thirty tons is the average weight of whales killed in the Indian
Ocean. Those on exhibition in museums give one some idea of the
size of a whale, yet the cured specimen is a poor substitute for one
which had been "spouting" an hour before.
Whaling boats are little larger than a big tug-boat. The whaler is
equipped with one mast, and twenty feet above the deck a long
barrel is secured to this, in which one of the crew is stationed when
hunting the great monster of the sea. The barrel is called the "crow's
nest," and from here the "lookout" scans the ocean in every
direction for the "spouting" mammoth. On the bow of the boat a
cannon is secured, out of which a harpoon is shot into the whale.
The harpoon looks like a small boat anchor. The length of the
harpoon bar is four feet, and at one end are four hooks ten inches
long. The hooks are attached to the bar by a spring, and, before
being used, are bent down to the bar, and kept in this position by
strong cord. Over the end of the bar fits a spear-pointed cap a foot
long, and in this cap has been placed a dynamite bomb. Whales are
shot within thirty yards of the boat—sometimes twenty feet. The
cannon can be adjusted to any angle. When the spear-pointed cap
enters the whale, the bomb explodes, snapping in two the cord with
which the four hooks were tied to the bar, when the hooks spring
outward—like an open umbrella—inside the whale.
The vital spot aimed at is the lungs. If the aim proves true, the large
mammal falls a victim to the ugly weapon, and dies instantly. If the
harpoon goes wide, the whale heads for the bottom. A long, strong
rope is secured to one end of the harpoon bar, and the whale is
given liberal latitude for his deluded effort to escape. Soon the rope
slackens, when the whaler knows the "spouter" is coming to the

surface to breathe. In the meantime, another harpoon has been
placed in the cannon, and when the whale appears this one is shot
into the crippled monster, putting an end to his fight for life. It
sometimes occurs, however, that the whale breaks the rope fastened
to the eye of the harpoon, when he escapes, carrying the
treacherous weapon in his ponderous frame.
When dead, the great "catch" is drawn to the side of the boat by the
rope secured to the harpoon. His tail flippers, which are from 10 to
12 feet long, are cut off, to allow of convenient handling of the
cumbersome carcass. A chain is then put around his delimbed tail,
the winches revolve, and, when his tail has been drawn up close to
the bow of the boat, a start is made for the wharf, leaving behind a
wake of red sea, discolored by the blood running out of his mouth
and from the rent in his body where the harpoon entered.
At the wharf, the boat chain is loosened and the harpoon rope cut. A
chain from the shore is next wound round his tail, a signal given the
engineer to start the machinery, and the great cetacean is slowly
drawn up a slipway out of the water. When drawn to the head of the
slipway, the body continues moving on to a wide flat car, the railway
track on which the car rests being sunk to a depth level with the top
of the slipway. One flat car is not long enough to afford room for the
huge wanderer of the deep, and a portion is drawn on to a second
car. An engine backs down, is coupled to the "whale train," and a
start made for the factory. The harpoon remains in the whale until
the body is cut to pieces.
At the factory, the whale is drawn off the car on to the "dissecting"
platform by another chain secured to the tail. Men, with long-
handled knives, then make deep cuts—one in its back and another in
the underpart—from the point of the jaw to the tail, and another
deep cut the full length of the carcass. The spaces between these
incisions are three feet at the underpart and from five to six feet on
the back. This part of the process is called "flencing." At the point of
the jaw a piece of flesh is cut until it is released from the bone, and
a small hole is cut out of the released part. A kafir, bare-headed and

bare-footed, brings a chain, and the hook of it is put through the
hole made in the released end of flesh at the whale's jaw. A signal
being given a man at the winches to start, the piece of released hide
begins to peel from the jaw, then down to the shoulder, and further
still. When the winches stop, a slab of hide 40 to 50 feet long, six
feet wide, and six inches thick—from the point of the jaw to the
whale's tail—is stretched out on the platform inside up. The skin
from the back and sides of the whale peels off almost as smoothly
as does the skin of a banana from that fruit. The skin at the
underpart, however, does not peel so freely, requiring cutting of the
flesh by the flencer in a similar way to that of severing threads when
ripping a seam in a garment. The underpart of the hide is but three
inches thick. These slabs or strips of flesh, of which six or seven are
procured from a whale, is the blubber, and from the blubber comes
the best grade of oil.
Kafirs, with long-handled knives, cut chunks—about 18 inches long
and 12 inches wide—from the slabs, which are thrown into a hopper
in which are revolving knives, these cutting the flesh into small
pieces, which drop into elevator buckets, later emptying into boiling
tanks located on a floor above. In these vats the oil is boiled out of
the blubber.
The whalebone, located in the enormous mouth, is yet to be
removed. The flesh to which the bone grows is cut with long, strong
knives around the inside of the jaw. A point of the flesh is released,
a chain hooked to it, the winches again start revolving, and the
whalebone begins peeling off the inside of the mouth as freely as did
the blubber off the back. Half of the whalebone still remains in the
mouth, and this is removed in the same manner as the first half.
A great blood-red hulk is all that now remains of the whale. A chain
is again wound about and secured to the tail of the carcass, the
winches, for the last time, revolve, when the colossal frame is moved
up an incline to a floor above the platform on which it was skinned.
Then kafirs, with axes, begin cutting the hulk to pieces, which are
thrown into rendering vats. Different parts of the body are thrown

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