The mail cart from the capital to Newcastle took two and a half days on the journey, and was on the whole comfortable enough. One moment of discord there was between myself and the sable driver, which did not, however, lead to serious results. On leaving Pieter Maritzburg I found that the vehicle was full. There were seven passengers, two on the box and five behind,--the sixth seat being crowded with luggage. There was luggage indeed everywhere, above below and around us,--but still we had all of us our seats, with fair room for our legs. Then came the question of the mails. The cart to Newcastle goes but once a week; and though subsidiary mails are carried by Zulu runners twice a week over the whole distance,--175 miles,--and carried as quickly as by the cart, the heavier bulk, such as newspapers, books, &c., are kept for the mail conveyance. The bags therefore are, in such a vehicle, somewhat heavy. When I saw a large box covered with canvas brought out I was alarmed, and I made some enquiry. It was, said the complaisant postmaster’s assistant who had come out into the street, a book-post parcel; somewhat large as he acknowledged, and not strictly open at the ends as required by law. It was, he confessed, a tin box and he believed that it contained--bonnets. But it was going up to Pretoria, nearly 400 miles, at book-parcel rate of postage,--the total cost of it being, I think he said, 8s. 6d. Now passengers’ luggage to Pretoria is charged 4s. a pound, and the injustice of the tin box full of bonnets struck my official mind with horror. There was a rumour for a moment that it was to be put in among us, and I prepared myself for battle. But the day was fine, and the tin box was fastened on behind with all the mails,--merely preventing any one from getting in or out of the cart without climbing over them. That was nothing, and we went away very happily, and during the first day I became indifferent to the wrong which was being done.