Nature has been truly liberal in the profusion of flowers she has scattered throughout this part of Africa: the plains are covered with heaths, or hethers, of an exquisite fragrance, of boundless variety, and of the most delicate coloring and formation. The whole country, where the soil is not absolutely barren, teems with all that could enrich a pleasure garden; among these, the wild geraniums bear a large proportion: the plain beyond the camp at Wine-Burg absolutely resembling a rich carpet! The opposite side of Table Bay, as seen from Cape Town, offers nothing pleasing to the eye; the coast appearing to be low, sandy, and barren, rising gradually into a range of hills, displaying little arborage, or verdure, which connect with those on the east side of False Bay, forming a part of the district called Hottentot Holland; wherein are partially interspersed small farms, that combine to supply Cape Town with provision. The back of the Table Mountain, so called from its top appearing horizontal for several hundred yards, indeed, for near half a mile, is rugged, and of a most dismal hue. When the wind blows from the westward, the clouds come rolling down, perfectly concealing the mountain nearly to what appears to be its base. In that, however, the spectator is deceived; for a block-house erected on a part of the hill where the signal port stands, called the Lion’s Rump, and which is also apparently near the base, has been ascertained, by measurement, to equal the highest part of Gibraltar in elevation above the sea. From this, as well as from its being discernible at full thirty leagues distance, some idea may be formed of the stupendous height of the Table Mountain.