The White Chief of the Caffres

by Alfred W. Drayson

“It is no fault of yours,” replied my uncle. “You know more of some things than many men learn during the whole of their lives; for whilst others have been acquiring a knowledge of Greek, Latin, and mathematics, you have learned how to think for yourself and to reason on what you see. It is rare to find a youngster like you as much a philosopher as you are, and all your life you will derive a great advantage from knowing how to do things for yourself.”

My life now became one of routine; the tutor who came was a comparatively young man, but was a very able teacher. We were more like companions than master and pupil, and when in our leisure hours I had told him of my past life, he took great interest in me.

My uncle had a dinner-party about once a week, to which he invited men who were remarkable in some way—authors, artists, men of science, and travellers. I took great interest in such society, and my knowledge of South Africa and the private life of the Zulus caused me to be listened to with attention whenever I was asked questions.

Two years passed in this way, and I made such rapid progress that I had become a fair mathematician, understood book-keeping by double entry, had gone through the six books of Euclid, could read and write French, and might be said to be well educated. My tutor was surprised at the rapidity with which I acquired knowledge. I, however, attributed it to the cultivation of my powers of observation, which had been developed during the wild life I had led in Africa.

My uncle at this period informed me that my tutor had told him, that I had made such rapid progress, that there was no necessity for my continuing my studies, and that he now considered it desirable that I should decide what course I should adopt in life.

I knew my uncle must have already made up his mind, and so considered it desirable that I should tell him that I had not sufficient experience to make any selection, but would rather follow his advice.

“Then,” said my uncle, “what do you think of coming into my office, and learning the business which I have followed with tolerable success? The army is poor pay, and often great hardship. The Indian Civil Service is better, but I think you are too old for that, and I don’t know any other line that would suit you. You can live here with me as long as you find it comfortable, and perhaps in time you may take my place.”

During the whole of my residence with my uncle I had never been to his office, which I now learned was in Fenchurch Street; and in a few days I was taken by him and introduced to the head clerk, who, having received instructions from my uncle, took me into an outer office and made me acquainted with four young men who were clerks. These four young men were considerably older than I was, as far as years were concerned, but their manners and conversation soon caused me to look upon them as mere boys; they seemed to have but little powers of reflection, to avoid thinking deeply on any matter, and to endeavour to do as little work as was possible. They indulged greatly in chaff; but, I suppose, from the fact of my being the nephew of their chief, as they termed my uncle, they never chaffed me. I felt but slight inclination for their society, and before I had been a week in the office there was a sort of antagonism between these clerks and myself.

My uncle did not seem displeased that I had not become very intimate with these clerks. He asked me one day how I liked them. I replied that I found nothing really to dislike, but they seemed to me particularly foolish, and to be too fond of trifles.

My uncle smiled, and said, “The fact is, Julius, you are very old, though young in years. The scenes through which you have passed have aged you, and you look for realities in life. The clerks in my office are thoughtless and superficial.”