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But seven years after, at the Peace of Amiens, it was very injudiciously restored to the Dutch. The folly of the step was soon apparent; and on the renewal of hostilities with France, a considerable force, under the command of Sir David Baird and Sir Home Popham, was sent to the Cape, with a view to its recapture. It was taken without difficulty, and has ever since remained in the possession of the British Crown. But the value of this portion of our empire has not been duly appreciated. Until very recently its interests have been neglected; its claims on the attention of the parent state but little regarded; and the representations which have been made relative to its misgovernment, though founded on indisputable facts, unheeded. The consequences have been, that its energies have been cramped, and that, through the discontent awakened in the minds of the Dutch inhabitants, and the calamitous wars which have been waged with the native tribes, its progress has been very considerably retarded. Let us hope that the time has come when a more liberal and enlightened policy will be adopted; and that the future history of the Cape Colony will be marked by events more pleasing and propitious than those which signalize the past.

In the former chapter I conducted the reader to Graham's-Town, the capital of the eastern province. To that part of the country the rest of my observations in this chapter will be chiefly confined.

That province embraces the districts of Albany, Somerset, Cradock, Graaf-Reynet, and Colesberg. It is bounded on the south by the Indian Ocean, on the east by Kaffraria, on the north by the Great Orange River and the country of the Bechuanas, &c., and on the west by the districts of George and Beaufort. Its physical aspect is not unworthy of notice.

On the coast the country is remarkably rugged. Deep kloofs, or "ravines," intersect each other in various directions, the sides of which are covered with dense forests, extending, in some cases, over an area of several hundred square miles. Here the richest variety of vegetation presents itself to view. The spekboom, the mimosa, the lofty euphorbia, putting forth its arms, like the branches of a huge candelabrum, the baboon'sladder, climbing to the tops of the highest trees, and winding its way in every direction, over crags and rocks and streams, together with the aloe, the jessamine, and numerous species of the beautiful geranium, form a cluster of botanical treasures on which the naturalist might long employ his hours. At the bottom of these ravines you find numerous rivulets and streams of water, many of which become, during the rainy seasons, rapid torrents, which have been known to sweep away waggons, oxen, and horses encamped on their margins during the night. The higher lands, or ridges of the mountains, are embellished with clumps of the yellow-flowering mimosa, giving to the scenery a pleasing aspect, not unlike that of our English parks.

Lower Albany, which is next the coast, is a remarkably fertile tract of country. Here many of the British settlers, who emigrated in the year 1820, were located; and here many of them, who still survive, together with their descendants, now reside. Several little villages and hamlets are scattered in the neighbourhood, some of which are probably destined to become important towns. The soil yields abundance of barley, oats, maize, and wheat, though the latter is liable to the mildew or rust. This part of the country is better adapted for agriculture than for pasturage, the grass being generally sour, coarse, and wiry; whence its original designation, the Zuurveld, or "sour-grass country."

The river Cowie, which winds along through Lower Albany in a deep and gradually-widening channel, gives a remarkable charm to the view, its waters "oft glancing" between the thick copse-wood in which it is enveloped. Dense jungles line its banks, in whose sylvan recesses the lion and the elephant formerly abode in considerable numbers. At its mouth, this river forms an estuary, into which, by the enterprise and perseverance of W. Cock, Esq., small coasting-vessels have recently been brought, although a bar of sand crosses the entrance, formed partly by the action of the tide, and partly by detritus from the surrounding high lands. The scenery of the river, which is navigable by boats fifteen miles upwards, is enchanting. The course is serpentine, and at every fresh turn the eye rests upon a new landscape of surpassing loveliness and beauty. It reminded me very much of the scenery on the Thames in the neighbourhood of Richmond.

Upwards from the coast, the country consists of elevated table-lands, intersected by several ranges of mountains, and watered by numerous rivulets and streams, which, when swollen by the rains that fall in the interior, assume the form of rivers, whose waters roll with such impetuous force as to render any attempt to cross perilous in the extreme. The Boschbergen and the Winter-bergen, from eighty to one hundred miles inland, are upwards of six thousand feet above the level of the sea, and during several months of the year are capped with snow. In the vicinity of these mountains are soine of the most lovely valleys and glens which the hand of nature ever formed. The glowing and poetical descriptions of them given by Pringle,* are by no means over-charged: indeed it is impossible either for the pencil or the pen to do them justice. Still further inland is another range of mountains, called the Sneuw-bergen, the loftiest peak of which, the Compass-berg, is estimated to be six thousand five hundred feet above the level of the sea. This region is well watered, and contains rich pasturage, especially for sheep. The bases of these mountains are formed of schistus, upon which lies a stratum of sandstone, intermingled with quartz. Beyond this range, stretching to the south and south-west, is an extensive steppe, or "terrace," which, on account of its parched and arid character, has received the name of the Great Karroo. It is about three hundred miles in length, by seventy or eighty in breadth. Its aspect is for the most part exceedingly sterile. It is covered with a thin argillaceous soil, which, owing to the want of moisture, assumes, in the summer season especially, the hardness of brick. The vegetation, which in such a region is necessarily scanty, consists of heath-like shrubs, together with numerous species of the fig-marigold, (Mesembryanthemum,) bergia, asters, goterica, and other succulents. After the rains fall, in the spring of the year, these plants put forth beautiful flowers, of different colour and hue, and the air is filled with the fragrance of their odour. "At this time," as Lichtenstein observes, "the colonist, with his herds and flocks, leaves the Snowy Mountains, and, descending into the plain, there finds a plentiful and wholesome supply of food for the animals; while troops of the tall ostrich and the wandering antelope, driven also from the heights, enliven the scene. But how soon is the country again deprived of all its glory! It scarcely continues more than one month, unless late rains, which must not often be expected, call forth the plants again into new life. As the days begin to lengthen, the increasing power of the mid-day ray checks once more the lately awakened

* Narrative of a Residence in South Africa, chap. vii.

powers of vegetation. The flowers soon fade and fall, the stems and leaves dry, and the hard coat of soil locks up the germs until the rains return; the succulent plants alone still furnish food for the herds and flocks. The streams soon begin to dry, the springs cease to flow, till at length the universal drought compels the colonists to return to the mountains; yet, even then, they quit the plain with reluctance; and the flocks, accustomed to endure thirst, still linger behind, feeding on the succulent plants, which afford at once food and drink, and are particularly salutary to those that bear wool. Every day, however, the Karroo becomes more and more solitary, and by the end of September it is wholly deserted. The hardened clay bursts into a thousand cracks, which evince to the traveller the great power of the African sun. Every trace of verdure is vanished, and the hard red soil is covered over with a brown dust, formed from the ashes of the dried and withered plants. Yet amongst these ashes is the seed nourished that is to produce future generations; and the relics of one year's vegetation furnish manure that is to cherish the germs till the next year's rain again brings them forth."

Recent investigations into the geological character of the eastern province, conducted by Mr. Bain, lead to the conclusion, that the whole territory is a fresh-water formation; there being nothing in the different species of shells, plants, and organic remains which have been discovered that indicates a marine origin. The lower silurian deposits, resting on beds of granite or clay-slate, prevail extensively. In these deposits numerous fossil remains have been found, some of which may now be seen in the British Museum, and are identical with those of species common to England. Here and there, and especially in the neighbourhood of FortBeaufort and the Winterberg, strata of the carboniferous and oolitic classes occur. A vast field of geological research is open to the scientific inquirer in South Africa, as yet comparatively unexplored; nor can any conception be formed of the resources of the country, which, by the investigations made in this department of science, may hereafter be presented.

The districts of Somerset, Cradock, and Graaf-Reynet, are rich in valuable pastoral and agricultural farms and vineyards. Wheat of the finest quality grows in these parts of the country, as well as in the western districts. Wooled sheep are now reared in considerable numbers, even by the DutchAfrican farmers, who were long prejudiced in favour of the fat-tailed sheep of Africa, which produces no wool; and, consequently, wool has become one of the principal articles of exportation to the parent country. No idea of an African farm can be formed from the homestead of the English farmer. It embraces, in all probability, several hundred acres of country, and, with the exception of the gardens and vineyards, the lands are unenclosed; and the boundaries of the farm are marked simply by head-stones set up here and there, in some instances bearing the initials of the proprietor. The sheep and cattle are therefore constantly attended by herds, whose business it is to keep them within a given locality, and to prevent their being lost in the glens and forests of the neighbourhood. At night they are brought home, and secured in the kraal or fold.

The residence of a Dutch Boer is much the same now as it was in the days of Barrow. In appearance it is similar to a respectable thatch-covered barn. A stoep, or "step," runs along the front; and entering the voorkammer, or "principal room," the floor of which is generally of clay, you find the huis-vrouw, or "mistress," seated at a small table, with a tea-pot and cups and saucers before her; and a small kettle, placed upon a stand

containing hot embers, at her feet. You are speedily invited to partake of a cup of tea, which is always agreeable enough after a long and tedious ride. The beams of the house are generally hung with Indian corn, and here and there with the skins of wild animals; or perhaps pieces of belltong, dried flesh of the spring-bok. An adjoining apartment, on one side, is the slaap-kammer, or sleeping-room ;" and on the opposite side is the kitchen, in which, early in the morning, you will see several native servants employed in slaughtering a sheep; and dogs (honden) without number putting in their claim for a share in the spoil.

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The Dutch are remarkably hospitable. When travelling in different parts of the country, I have frequently halted at the house of a Boer, and have always met with a kind and friendly reception. To whatever the dwelling could afford,-coffee, tea, a good supper, and at least a mattress of straw, but often a very comfortable bed,-I was ever made welcome; nor would Mynheer think for a moment of asking for any remuneration. After the usual salutation, Goeden dag, Mynheer, goeden dag, jevrouw, the subjects of conversation generally touched upon are, the state of the country, the visitations of the locust, and especially the vexatious Kafir question, together with the most recent intelligence from Europe, respecting which many of the Dutch farmers feel a lively interest. Nor are they by any means strangers to religion. Though many of them live in retired and solitary spots, far from any colonial town, sanctuary, or Minister, yet they keep up some of the observances of piety in their families; and, to be present at the kirk on certain occasions, such as the nagtmaal, "sacrament," and the bevestiging, "confirmation," they will travel in their waggons from fifty to a hundred miles. They are nearly all members of the Dutch Reformed Church, and are thorough Presbyterians, and true Protestants. To Popery they possess the greatest abhorrence; and one of the many grounds on which they find fault with the British Government is, that the Church of Rome is nourished in the Colony,-a fact too obvious to be denied. There is something remarkably primitive in the appearance of a Dutch household assembled for family worship, very much reminding one of the old Scotch Covenanters. Before or after supper the groot Bibel, with huge brass clasps, printed in black letter, and usually adorned with a number of singular plates which are viewed as highly important, is placed on the table; and, the inmates of the dwelling being seated round, a psalm is sung, and the patriarch of the family reads a chapter, and perhaps catechises the children; and then, whilst all stand in an attitude of devotion, he offers up a prayer. Such scenes I have witnessed with pleasure, and have sometimes officiated as the Predikant, " Minister," and conducted the service as thus described; but it is to be feared that the Christianity of the Dutch-African farmers is, for the most part, merely nominal. Vital piety does, however, exist amongst them, and is making progress. As evidence of the fact, it may be observed, that a few years ago they were decidedly inimical to Missionaries and Missionary operations, considering the zwart-menschen, "coloured people," as mere dogs, possessed of no mind, and made only to be servants to the white man; whereas now a very different spirit prevails. Since the act of the emancipation of the slave, prejudice has been subverted, the baneful influence of caste has given way, and you may now observe the DutchAfrican settler, and the native Hottentot, Kafir, or Bechuana, worshipping together in the same sanctuary, and kneeling together at the same table. The positive effects of Missionary operations on the native tribes have gone far to convince the Dutch of their value and importance; and we can even

refer to not a few, in different parts of the Colony, who contribute to our funds.

The climate of the Cape Colony may deserve a passing notice. Though changeable, and subject to great variations of temperature, yet, as a whole, it is perhaps one of the most salubrious in the world. In the summer season-the months of December, January, and February-the heat at noonday is often very oppressive; the thermometer standing, in the shade, at from 85 to 90 degrees. The hot winds, which occasionally blow from the north and north-west, and are probably the remains of the simoom which sweeps across the Great Sahara, are intolerable. The air seems charged with sulphureous vapours, which produce sensations of the most painful kind. You pant for the cool, refreshing breeze; and, to prevent suffocation, are obliged to cover the mouth and nostrils with a handkerchief. All nature feels the withering influence produced. In the course of a few hours, or even minutes, the flowers in the gardens die, and every green herb is scorched; thus furnishing a striking illustration of the words of the Prophet, "The grass withereth, the flower fadeth; because the spirit" (wind or breath) "of the Lord bloweth upon it," &c. (Isai. xl. 7.) Seasons of drought, too, are not unfrequent. Several weeks will sometimes elapse, during which no rain will fall, and not a cloud arise to speck the vault of heaven. The earth, parched with thirst, will literally open its mouth in cracks and fissures, as though it were calling to the skies for showers. The brooks and streams will be dried up, the hills assume a most sterile aspect; and the beasts and cattle, almost destitute of provision, will manifest their distress by peculiar moans and cries. In such a country the language of Scripture, which speaks of pools of water, living water, ever-flowing streams and springs, as emblems of happiness and joy, is felt to be appropriate, beautiful, and expressive.

But, notwithstanding its disadvantages, the climate of the Cape is genial and healthy; and that of Albany, in particular, mild, agreeable, and salubrious. In the depth of winter the cold is never severe; and in the summer the air is often cooled by copious thunder-showers, and purified by the action of the electric fluid. In consequence of the remarkable brilliancy of the atmosphere, mountains, and other distant objects, appear to the eye much nearer than they really are; and in crossing the extensive plains the traveller is often led to suppose that the elevated ridge before him is just at hand, when perhaps it is twenty or thirty miles beyond. For the same cause an African sunset is glorious beyond all description. After pouring his beams upon the earth, and filling the air with light most dazzling, Sol descends into the west, amid tints and hues which no pencil can depict, amid golden rays too brilliant for the sight to bear. Even the gorgeous pictures of a Turner, which some have thought to be exaggerations of nature, fall infinitely short of the magnificent scenes of this kind, on which with rapture I have often gazed. Nor can aught surpass the clearness and loveliness of an African moonlight night. Were it not that it would be injurious to the eyes, you might read without difficulty the smallest type; and in the desert wilds, when far from any human habitation, the awful stillness which often pervades all nature, together with the deep broad shadows of mountains, rocks, and trees which fall upon the earth, produces an effect upon the mind, now pleasurable and now sad, as if you were in a region of enchantment.*

The climate of the Cape is in many respects similar to that of the Holy Land. (See Rohr's Palestine, pp. 57-61. Bib. Cabinet.)

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