Saturday, May 5th, 1798.—Behold us setting out in our waggon and eight at nine o’clock in the morning. On the front seat sat our coachman, Gaspar, lent us by a friend for the journey, an enthroned lord sitting on his own box, which was chiefly filled with tools, nails, and other things which might be useful for purposes of repair. Behind him sat your friend Lady Anne, on her knee an old drawing-book, which little thought in its old age it would be caught turning over a new leaf in the wilds of Africa. By her was her mann Mynheer Barnard, with his gun ready to pop at the partridges the minute they appeared. Behind him, seated on the woolsacks—in other words, the mattresses—were cousins Johnny and Jane. Behind this happy pair was Charley, my little black boy, who was appointed inspector of the baggage, ready to holloa out when anything dropped. By him was Hector, a stupid old slave belonging to the coachman, who played the part of a sort of groom and odd man. Behind our waggon followed Pawell and another slave, who rode Mr. Barnard's horse and Jane’s stud—viz. a couple of riding-horses—and a Hottentot riding Johnny Dalrymple’s ‘Hobgoblin.’ These brought up the rear, and you will see made quite an imposing procession.
South Africa, 1798
Source: Lady Anne Barnard, W.H. Wilkins, ed., Africa a Century Ago: Letters Written from the Cape of Good Hope 1797-1801, Smith Elder & Co, 1910