stone gives additional grandeur to the landscape. This kind of scenery continues up and down the river from Kheis for nearly 100 miles. From Griqua Town to Bultfontein, over sixty miles, the country is of the same character, the road passing along from that town to Wittwater, Reedfontein, Modderfontein, Bluebush Kalk, to Bultfontein, on the Orange river, a pretty site for a town. It is a Kaffir station of several tribes. At Modderfontein, nearly on the summit of one of the lofty hills, are several Bushmen's caves. The largest is capable of holding 200 people; the rocks within show evidence of fire by their smoked appearance, and many years ago were occupied by that bloodthirsty tribe mentioned in my description of the Kalahara. The Griquas living here told me they have passed away, but the old man stated their fathers could remember them. The mountain road leaves Bultfontein and goes west no great distance from the river, over a very stony, road, on to the Pits, where several Griquas have comfortable houses, situated on a pleasant open space, rarely to be equalled for beautiful views in all directions. I remained here several days to ramble and explore the mountain tops. I took my driver in case of accidents, as leopards and lions were known to be there, as one old Griqua told me they frequently lost a goat by being taken from the kraal at night. Vegetation up the kloofs and on the slopes of the hills is very fine; beautiful tree-ferns, and every variety of other kinds, particularly the maiden-hair, which grows out amongst the rocks on the mountains, are very beautiful; also some very fine ground orchids, and a thorny bush with crimson flowers, as also many varieties of aloes. This district contains copper and lead, and from the appearance of the quartz which crops out, I believe gold will be discovered when this part is prospected. One road from this place goes down to the river through a fearful valley; it is necessary to "reim" (tie) the four wheels of the waggon, otherwise it would go crash down into the precipice below, and then turn over and be smashed. This was the road I took to the river on a previous journey. The other passes on to Milk Stort Pass in the Langberg range, fifty miles more to the west, which I crossed on the western side, and outspanned under some fine old trees, close to a perpendicular rock at the foot of the Berg, where we found a small pool of water in the rocks, collected from the recent rains, and good grass. The pass over the mountains was a most difficult and dangerous road, large holes and boulders blocking the way. The scenery on both sides was grand, lofty and perpendicular rocks, 2000 feet high, with beautiful shrubs and flowers growing out from every crevice. The light and shadows thrown on the opposite hills by the setting sun gave beauty to the landscape.