Cape of Good Hope (South Africa) -- Description and travel
How shall I describe the view from that pass? In front was a long, long
level valley, perhaps three to five miles broad (I can’t judge distance
in this atmosphere; a house that looks a quarter of a mile off is two
miles distant). At the extreme end, in a little gap between two low
brown hills that crossed each other, one could just see Worcester—five
hours’ drive off. Behind it, and on each side the plain, mountains of
every conceivable shape and colour; the strangest cliffs and peaks and
crags toppling every way, and tinged with all the colours of opal;
chiefly delicate, pale lilac and peach colour, but varied with red brown
and Titian green. In spite of the drought, water sparkled on the
mountain-sides in little glittering threads, and here and there in the
plain; and pretty farms were dotted on either side at the very bottom of
the slopes toward the mountain-foot. The sky of such a blue! (it is
deeper now by far than earlier in the year). In short, I never did see
anything so beautiful. It even surpassed Hottentot’s Holland. On we
went, straight along the valley, crossing drift after drift;—a drift is
the bed of a stream more or less dry; in which sometimes you are drowned,
sometimes only _pounded_, as was our hap. The track was incredibly bad,
except for short bits, where ironstone prevailed. However, all went
well, and on the road I chased and captured a pair of remarkably swift
and handsome little ‘Schelpats’. That you may duly appreciate such a
feat of valour and activity, I will inform you that their English name is
‘tortoise’. On the strength of this effort, we drank a bottle of beer,
as it was very hot and sandy; and our Malay was a _wet_ enough Mussulman
to take his full share in a modest way, though he declined wine or ‘Cape
smoke Soopjes’ (drams) with aversion. No sooner had we got under weigh
again, than Sabaal pulled up and said, ‘There _are_ the Baviāans Missis
want to see!’ and so they were. At some distance by the river was a
great brute, bigger than a Newfoundland dog, stalking along with the
hideous baboon walk, and tail vehemently cocked up; a troop followed at a
distance, hiding and dodging among the palmiets. They were evidently _en
route_ to rob a garden close to them, and had sent a great stout fellow
ahead to reconnoitre. ‘He see Missis, and feel sure she not got a gun;
if man come on horseback, you see ’em run like devil.’ We had not that
pleasure, and left them, on felonious thoughts intent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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