De vruchten mijner werkzaamheden. Deel 1

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The fruits of my labours,

During my journey via the Cape of Good Hope to Java, and back, via St. Helena, to the Netherlands.
By M.D. Teenstra (1830).
Part I, into which is incorporated a short extract from Part II.

First letter.

On board ship in the Nieuwe Diep,
9th January, 1825.

On Monday, 22nd November, 1824, I bade farewell to my wife and family at my homestead, Arion, and travelled to Groningen, where a number of friends and relatives had gathered to wish me luck on my travels. On Wednesday, the 24th, I left by boat for Stroobos, in the province of Friesland, where I transferred to a cargo boat plying regularly to the port of Lemmer. Arriving there on Thursday night after a most unpleasant passage of some twenty-four hours, I embarked again next morning and crossed the Zuider Zee to Amsterdam, which was reached at nine on Saturday morning. After a stay of twelve days, I took the packet to Alkmaar, sailing all day along the canals of North Holland and arriving after dark. For part of the distance we had followed the new North Holland Canal, down which we travelled next day to Den Helder, changing boats thrice on the way. Arriving in the harbour, the Nieuwe Diep, I transferred to the Abel Tasman, the ship which was to take me to the East. The following day the rest of our luggage also arrived from Amsterdam by flat-bottomed boat.

During the time we were waiting for a favourable wind, I contrived, despite severe rains and storms, to see much of Den Helder and its surroundings. My excursions included visits to the island of Texel, the village of Huisduinen, and the forts Erfprins and Kykduin, the latter a subterranean fortress supporting a light-tower of considerable height. At the moment a merchant fleet of more than a hundred vessels is anchored in the Nieuwe Diep. Within the harbour also lies a disused warship, the Zoutman, which at present provides living quarters for no less than seventy families. On the western side of the harbour is the Dutch naval base Willemsoord, comprising a wet dock capable of holding ten warships, a spacious dry-dock, magazines and workshops. At the

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southern end of the Nieuwe Diep is the Nieuwe Werk, a mass of factories concentrated upon an island connected with the mainland by a dyke.

New Year's Day found us still lying in the Nieuwe Diep. On the fifth of January, however, with the wind blowing with gale force, we left the harbour and anchored in the Texel roadstead. This morning we finally raised anchor and moved off on the first stage of our voyage to the Indies.

Second letter.

Cape of Good Hope, 12th March, 1825.

After a voyage of sixty-one days we anchored in Table Bay yesterday morning. Our ship, a swift frigate of 165 lasts, newly constructed at a cost of 118,000 guilders, and decorated with a figure-head representing the discoverer whose name it bears, is expected to complete the round voyage within the year. The expenses of such a voyage, counting the wages paid to the crew of thirty-three, the cost of provisions, expenses incurred at the Cape and Batavia, etc., are very heavy. If the owners are to profit to any appreciable extent, freight and passenger fares must together yield a hundred thousand guilders. The passengers, of whom there are twenty-seven on board, including the Honourable Mr. Muntinghe, a member of the Council of India, contribute on an average about eight hundred guilders each.

But let us revert to the commencement of the voyage. With a strong wind blowing on the morning of 9th March, the pilot speedily took us past Den Helder and Huisduinen, finally leaving the ship at half-past eleven in the North Sea. Thereafter the fishing village of Petten and the coastal towns of Camperdown and Egmond successively hove in sight and disappeared from view again. Having caught the last glimpse of my native land for many a day, I retired rather depressed to my cabin, fortunately, and unlike the majority of my fellow passengers, being spared the added misery of seasickness.

My cabin, which was shared with another passenger, measured some six feet by four, the space between decks being about six feet. Part of this very limited space was taken

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up by our trunks and boxes, while our hats and clothes, suspended from the beams overhead, further aggravated matters. I occupied the bottom bunk, which, though stuffy, was the more spacious of the two, measuring about six feet by three. Even this space, however, I had to share with various packages for which no other place was to be found.

With the wind veering to the north-east, the Captain set a south-westerly course across the North Sea. In the early hours of the following morning we passed through the English Channel, the lights of Dover and Calais showing on either side. The crossing of the Channel by sailing vessel at this point occupies from six to eight hours. At present, however, a steamboat plies between the two ports. In the light of the rising sun that morning the tall white cliffs of the English coast presented a striking sight. At eight o'clock we passed within view of the Dungeness lighthouse on the coast of Kent, and at noon caught a glimpse of the glistening white rocks of Beachy Head on the Sussex coast. On the 11th January we passed Start Point and, subsequently, Eddystone lighthouse, which rises ninety-two feet into the sky from a sea-girt rock in front of Plymouth Bay. At eleven that night we passed Lizard Point, the southernmost English cape, and some hours later saw the lights of Land's End. Next day we passed the Scilly Islands, upon one of the smaller of which, St. Agnes Isle, a splendid lighthouse has been erected.

As we entered the Spanish Sea the climate improved and we were favoured with a cool breeze and a clear sky overhead. The evenings in these waters were delightful. By noon on Thursday, the 13th, we were level with La Rochelle on the French coast; next day we passed Cape Finisterre. At dawn on the 20th we sighted the island of Porto Santo, belonging to the Madeira group, passing Madeira itself at noon. From the sea the island was a grand spectacle. At four o'clock that afternoon we overtook an English brig, en route from Liverpool to Rio de Janeiro. An hour later we passed a second British vessel, bound for Pernambuco in Brazil.

On Saturday, 22nd January, we passed to the right of Palma, the most northerly of the Canary Islands. A gigantic rocky mass rising to great height, it was ringed with clouds about its middle when we passed. Just off Palma we were becalmed for some hours. To mitigate the oppressive heat a canvas covering was erected above the deck, with great bags

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leading down below for collecting and introducing fresh air between decks. Towards late afternoon we noticed a strange brig, which, availing itself of a slight cross-breeze, was bearing down upon us from the north-east, and aboard which there appeared to be considerable activity. The Captain, fearing that it might be a raider, caused the cannon to be loaded and took every defensive precaution. Upon our hoisting our national flag the approaching vessel ran up the French flag. The Captain, however, related having on a previous voyage encountered an American raider¹ flying the same flag, which, after opening fire upon them, had raised the Spanish flag. At the last moment a breeze fortunately sprang up, which, freshening rapidly, enabled us not only to keep our distance but to draw away from the stranger. By nightfall we had completely lost sight of her.

At ten o'clock on the morning of the 24th we crossed the Tropic of Cancer. Three days later, on the morning of the 27th, we passed between the Cape Verde islands, having the island of St. Antonio on our left and St. Jago, the most important member of the group, and Mayo on our right. The ten islands constituting the group are located in the form of a horseshoe, with the opening towards the west. During the afternoon we overtook a slow-moving English brig, thirtysix days out from Halifax in Yorkshire and bound for Pernambuco. The exceptional speed of our vessel apparently caused her Captain much uneasiness for he, at an early moment, raised the British flag and hailed us to ascertain our identity.

The heat was becoming increasingly oppressive by day, though the evenings were still most pleasant. We spent most of our days sitting about on deck, smoking and watching the movements of the sea, rarely doing any reading. At night we gathered on deck to converse over a glass of wine or a pipe of tobacco, or to be entertained with music and song. On sultry evenings we retired to the saloon, where we passed the time smoking or playing cards, chess or draughts. The fare provided on board was excellent and the service most efficient. Often as many as seven or eight different dishes were served at meals. We had ample supplies of fresh and salt meat (fresh from animals kept on board), as well as of

1 Teenstra intends to say South American. At the time various South American states were in revolt against Spain. The word he uses might also mean pirate.

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dried and salted fish, and of fruit and vegetables of all varieties whether fresh, dried or preserved.

In these tropical waters considerable numbers of flying fish showed themselves, often rising from the water in immense swarms and winging their way over the waves for distances of two to three hundred yards. I was privileged to examine one of the species - an average one - which had landed in the galleon of the ship. The fish measured about 21 inches and its fins or wings, on which it is borne aloft, close on eleven inches in length and five across at the widest point. The fish itself is very angular, having almost the shape of an oblong. It has black, strikingly large eyes. In colour it is silver and dark green. Numbers of sharks, porpoises and others of the larger varieties of fish were also to be distinguished in these marvellously clear waters.

Though favoured with but slight breezes, we made good progress towards the equator. By February 3rd the thermometer registered eighty-six degrees, the heat inside the cabins at night-time being so great that most of us found it impossible to sleep. Many sought relief on deck, the slight difference in temperature, however, hardly compensating for the added discomfort of bedding down on the hard boards. Worse afflictions, even, were the vapours emanating from great quantities of cheese, ham and butter in the hold and the odour of perspiring human bodies, etc., which rendered conditions below deck unbearable. Attempts at clearing the atmosphere down below by every known expedient (vinegar, Eau-de-Cologne, etc.) were all equally unsuccessful.

Finally, on the evening of Sunday, 6th February, we crossed the line, exactly four weeks after leaving the Texel roadstead. The ceremony of crossing the line had already been celebrated during the morning, the manifest purpose of the whole affair being to fill the pockets of the crew. The previous evening a delegate of Neptune had appeared on board to the sound of musket-shots to announce that the sea god would board the vessel next day to initiate the novices. There were altogether thirty-four persons on board who had not previously crossed the line, including myself. Next morning Neptune and his retinue, including his queen, his secretary and his barber, appeared from behind a canvas screen erected in front of the crew's quarters. After the secretary had read the names of the uninitiated we were

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ordered below, and were then successively led up on deck with our eyes bandaged and placed upon a plank laid across an immense water-filled tub. Various questions were put to each victim, who was finally asked to make an offering to the sea god. According to the size of the donation his face was lathered either with water or with tar, and he was shaved alternatively with a wooden razor or a piece of iron. My contribution did not satisfy them, with the result that I was well tarred and scraped prior to being pitched into the tub. In conclusion all on board were subjected to a deluge of water from the platforms around the masts to which casks of water had been raised during the night.

On the morning of Tuesday, 15th February, we sighted the island of Trinidad (Brazil) to starboard. At noon the same day we passed close to the series of barren rocks known as Martinvaz or Martenval, and then set a course for the south-east.¹ Next day we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn during a severe storm, losing the mast of our top-gallant sail. On Sunday, the 20th, we also lost the mizzen-yard, together with the sail attached to it. Finally, on the afternoon of Thursday, 10th March, the Hottentots-Holland, Table and other Cape mountains came into view. By nightfall we were approaching the entrance to the bay when a quickly-rising mist blotted out the land, forcing us to anchor out at sea for the night. At dawn next morning we were close inshore, rounding the Lion's Head, against the slopes of which splendid houses and gardens were visible. From the signal post at the north-western point of the head our approach had already been signalled to the town on the previous day. At eleven that morning we finally anchored in the bay before Cape Town.

I was unable, however, to share in the general joy at the prospect of going ashore again after nine weeks at sea; for, at the moment of arrival, I was lying on deck a helpless and pain-ridden invalid. This was the result of a severe cold which I had contracted three weeks earlier. One early morning, driven from my cabin by the heat, I was taking a bath on deck in a tub placed below the foresail when a violent storm suddenly burst upon us, resulting in torrents of icycold water pouring down upon my naked body from the fore-

1 Sailing-ships first followed the north-east trade-winds to the coast of South America, where they picked up the south-east trades which carried them to the Cape and the East.

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sail, besides washing about and drenching my clothes. Chilled to the bone, I hurried to my cabin, but instead of taking to my warm bed I dressed and returned on deck. Prior to this I had been careless on various occasions, contracting severe colds. Next morning my limbs were so swollen and paralyzed that I was incapable of rising, and I soon began to experience the most excruciating pains. The ship's doctor, a young barber from Amsterdam, was unable to afford me any relief, with the result that the last three weeks of the voyage were weeks of unmitigated torture. I hope soon, however, to place myself in the hands of a capable physician of the town.

Third letter.

Caledon, 1st May, 1825.

I am writing this at Caledon, situated a hundred and twenty miles north-east of Cape Town at the foot of the Zwartberg, where I am taking the waters, at the suggestion of the doctors, in the hope of recovering my health. As you know from my last letter I was troubled with severe rheumatic pains and disorders of the stomach at the time of our arrival. Subsequently, while I was confined to bed by excessive pain and bodily weakness, my ship sailed for Batavia, and I thus came to make an enforced stay at the Cape.

But let me describe our arrival. After the ship had anchored, and while we were awaiting the arrival of the harbour-master, who was to examine our papers and inspect health conditions on board, natives of many colours rowed out to the ship in small boats with baskets of live fish and crayfish, grapes (of magnificent quality), watermelon and other varieties of fruit. Their wares found a ready market, though their prices were exorbitant. The moment the harbour-master had completed his inspection, the Captain and most of the passengers went ashore, their fine clothes contrasting sharply with the poor and simple garb of the native boatmen, consisting of breeches, mostly of brown sheepskin, and a short jacket, with a conical straw hat completing the costume.

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Reduced by physical weakness to the role of spectator, I had to be content with the view from the deck of the town backed by its four proud mountains, namely, the Lion's Tail, Lion's Head, Table Mountain and Devil's Peak, and the sounds of bustle and activity which reached me across the water. All this, however, proved so alluring that I caused my possessions to be packed the same day, and next morning had myself lowered into a shallop which conveyed me to the jetty. At the seaward end of this wooden structure cranes are fitted for the loading and unloading of ships, as well as pumps for filling the casks with fresh water. As we sailed towards the shore I had frequent opportunities of witnessing the remarkable degree of tameness acquired by the birds which throng the bay, the result of the protection afforded them by the law and the abundance of fish in the waters.

On our arrival at the jetty the boatmen deposited me upon it together with my luggage and promptly disappeared. I remained seated there for some time, unnoticed by anyone except for some members of our ship's company returning from the town with baskets of grapes and bottles of Cape wine. My dreary vigil was abruptly brought to an end by the appearance of two semi-naked blacks who seized my boxes and, despite my loud and vehement protests, carried them off in the direction of the town. Immediately after, two others laid hold of my person with equal lack of ceremony and bore me off at a trot in the wake of my luggage, finally dumping me unmercifully amongst my boxes on a wagon drawn by eight horses. Thereupon the driver speedily enquired as to my destination. I directed him to the lodging-house of C.A. Storm in Castle Street, where most of my fellow passengers were staying. This house, however, proved to be full and I finally secured accommodation at the house of Miss Truter in Burg Street, with meals provided by Storm's. As it turned out, this was a most fortunate circumstance, for, despite lower charges, the accommodation and service at Miss Truter's proved far superior to that at Storm's establishment. The latter gentleman, in fact, was speedily deserted by the majority of his guests on account of the ill-furnished, ill-kept and buginfested condition of his rooms and the annoyance caused by numbers of slave children and domestic birds which had the run of the front and back doors respectively.

As soon as I was settled in my rooms I sent for Dr. J.K.

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van Oosterzee, who subsequently visited me twice a day and rendered me the most devoted services. He prescribed certain purgative medicines which, during a three weeks' course of treatment, reduced me to a condition of extreme pain and weakness. During all this time, however, I was most assiduously and skilfully nursed by my landlady and a Miss Louise Pothoff residing with her. After some time I also took my meals from them, which consisted largely of fruits and vegetables, including delightful strawberries. When the time scheduled for the departure of my ship arrived I called in Dr. Liesching to consult with van Oosterzee as to the advisability of my continuing the voyage. Both emphatically advised against such a proceeding. So did the Honourable Mr. Muntinghe, who promised to see to my affairs in the East. I decided to honour this advice and stay on at the Cape. On Saturday, 26th March, my fellow-passengers all came to take leave of me. Next morning gun-fire announced the departure of my ship. The immediately ensuing days were lonely and sad, but the loss of my friends was soon made good by the kindness and friendship shown me by the residents of the town, who still remain Dutch in their language and allegiance. The English ladies, too, were kind to me, sometimes sending me a delicious jelly made of calves' feet and Madeira wine.

Among my Dutch friends I must particularly mention the favours I received from Advocate Truter, the son of the Chief Justice and a nephew of my landlady, and his wife, a daughter of the former Rear-Admiral C. de Jong, and a lady of great charm and beauty. As soon as I became convalescent their carriage-and-four were daily placed at my disposal for the purpose of taking drives into the country. On these outings we frequently drove to Rondebosch, returning by way of the magnificent residence and brewery of Mr. van Reenen and the Governor's country-house, Newlands. In company with my landlady I also paid a visit to her brother, Mr. P. Truter, secretary of the town administration, who resides at the foot of Lion's Head, with a broad view on the Atlantic Ocean. A pleasant drive along a firm, reddish road brings you to his door. From the road the picturesque Malay cemetery is visible against the slope of the hill to the left, while to the right you have a splendid view of the bay and the ships riding at anchor upon it. A striking sight is

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the massive white lighthouse with its twin copulas, towering above the rocky beach, on which the remains of a Danish wreck are still to be seen. At the foot of the mountain, to the left, are gardens protected by walls of rude stone, as well as larger fields enclosed by earthern embankments planted with aloes and other shrubs. On the road we stopped at the small menagerie of Mr. Villet, a Frenchman by birth, who passes for rich but presents a very poor appearance. His wife also is more sour than sweet. His collection of indigenous fauna includes a lion, a lioness, a leopard, an elephant, a rhinoceros and many varieties of antelope. He also has a rich collection of plants and shrubs, and carries on business in all these things.

The inhabitants of the town suffer much discomfort from the violent gales which blow here during summer and winter, particularly by reason of the enormous clouds of dust to which they give rise. The fine dust particles penetrate both houses and cabinets, find their way into foods and liquids, and give rise to smarting eyes, headaches and frayed tempers. The firm, stony streets of the town are usually covered with a layer of sand and fine gravel which is turned into mud and slush by the winter rains. Another source of annoyance are the incredibly daring black flies which infest the houses in the town in enormous numbers. I must also refer to the great bustle and clamour in the streets caused by the hawkers and other street-merchants who loudly proclaim their wares. I must say I have never heard a more beautiful street-cry than that of the grapesellers.

Owing to the stiffness of my right arm I had to call in a barber for shaving. A hideously ugly, dirty and evil-smelling black ‘boy’ (though he was about 60) appeared, who subjected me to a nerve-wracking and painful ordeal. Though only partially shaved, I was relieved to see him pack up and depart.

On the morning of the 7th April, Arend, a slave whom I had engaged as body-servant, brought me a message from a Mr. M. van Breda, a prominent resident of the town, stating that he had arranged with a certain Swart, returning to his farm at Zoetendals Vallei, to convey me to the hot baths at Caledon. As Swart was due to start soon after, I immediately had my things packed. So many trunks, boxes and bags were required to pack all the provisions and

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delicacies supplied by the ladies, as well as other gifts from various friends, that it finally became necessary to transfer part of my luggage to the wagon of another farmer in order to secure comfortable accommodation for my servant and myself in Swart's conveyance. As soon as my preparations were complete we started off, van Oosterzee accompanying me in our covered waggon as far as the barracks where I parted from my physician, friend and counsellor with the liveliest feelings of regret.

Our team of ten small brown horses speedily brought us to Rondebosch, where we turned off to the left, crossing the river on to the sand-flats. After driving for some time along a rude, sandy tract, we outspanned at the Zwartdam, where a number of other waggons were already awaiting us. It is customary for the farmers from across the mountain to travel to town in strong bodies, both to ease the burden of guarding the draught animals against wild beasts at night and for defence against the attacks of armed gangs of Hottentots and deserted slaves who have their haunts in the Hanglip mountains. According to the accounts of the farmers, part of the robber gang is usually left to guard the sole entrance to their mountain retreat while the others go off on plundering raids of as much as a month's duration, in the course of which they plunder the farms of sufficient stock, clothing and other articles to last them for several months. During my stay at Caledon a farmer and his servant, travelling across the Hottentots-Holland Mountains on horseback by night, were assaulted and robbed by one of these gangs. Subsequently, following the theft of some oxen from a farm along the Onrust River, a commando under field-cornet Kleyn was sent against them which found the carcases of twenty-one oxen in their deserted caves.

When all the members of the party had assembled the train of thirteen waggons - ten drawn by horses and three by oxen - moved off. From this spot the road across the dunes was very deep and heavy, with the result that we did not reach the next outspan until midnight. Notwithstanding the dangers and difficulties of driving along these deeply-scored tracts at night, we met several waggons after dark travelling towards Cape Town. Despite the late hour of our arrival fires were immediately lighted at the outspan and coffeekettles and frying-pans were produced, but we had hardly

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commenced our meal before a heavy shower of rain drove all within the cover of the wagon tilts, three armed men only remaining on guard. This outspan is variously known as Wolvenkraal, Knoetze Wolfshuis or Sikke Vlei.

Early the next morning the horses, numbering altogether a hundred and sixteen, were collected and driven to the waggons. Throughout the journey they had to forage for themselves on the bare veld. When let out to graze they are usually ‘knee-haltered’ to restrain their movements and prevent them from straying. These African horses, though of small stature, are sturdily built and possess great powers of endurance. Against this must be put the fact that they are invariably very obstinate. Not a horse in the whole troop was shod.

The draught oxen, failing to find any pasture on the barren outspan, had settled down for the night in a herd in a nearby ‘vlei’. These oxen strongly resemble our large West-Frisians, but have far greater horns. Each one has its own name. The oxen are fastened with wooden yokes to a strong central trace formed of twisted thongs of oxhide. The more elaborate harness of the horses is likewise fashioned by the farmers themselves out of oxhide. The lash of their enormous whips measures some eight yards, the bamboo handle being a further five yards in length. The oxen are preceded by a boy called the leader, who frequently has a gruelling time. The oxen as well as the horses are trained to listen to specific cries when stopping or starting. The valuable waggons with their costly iron fittings are priced at five to six hundred rix-dollars when new. The waggon-hood consists of a linen cover tightly drawn over a bamboo framework, with a finely knitted rush mat in between to render it waterproof.

Resuming our journey our ‘boys’ raided a quince hedge beside the road, which fruit, though tastier than the Dutch quince, I didn't relish. Further on we reached a newly-built church, around which it is proposed to lay out a township to be called Somerset. Just beyond it we dashed across the boulder-strewn bed of the Lourens River, being severely shaken in the process, and soon after reached the stately farm of Mr. Danicl Morkel. In the splendid homestead, picturesquely set amidst tall trees, the capitulation of the Cape was signed in 1806 by General Janssens. We stopped here to collect two horses left here by Swart on the outward journey,

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which had been reserved for the crossing of the mountain. The other waggons meanwhile proceeded to the regular outspan. According to Swart this was the oldest farm in the neighbourhood, and he sang an old song to prove it.

We were now arrived close to the Hottentots-Holland Mountains, the crossing of which I greatly dreaded. From far off I had espied the Kloof through the mountains and the reddish road winding to the top. We joined the other waggons in a valley at the foot of the mountain, where a certain English trader, Ingledew, has his shop to the left of the road. Here the horses were rested for an hour preparatory to commencing the ascent. Having negotiated the lower slope we reached the toll-house, where dues were exacted for the repair and improvement of the road. About halfway up the mountain we encountered a particularly steep and perilous height, called Roode Hoogte, out of which the road is cut to a fairly considerable depth in places; after surmounting which we descended again into a deep hollow. From there the road continues at an easy gradient along the sloping side of the mountain. On this stretch you look down into a precipitous abyss on the right, while above moss-covered rocks projecting from the mountainside overhang the road. A final steep, straight climb over many boulders brings you to a narrow gorge, called the Poort, after passing through which you gain the summit from which a magnificent view is obtained over False Bay and the surrounding countryside. According to one writer the height of this pass is 1,500 feet, which I find a rather generous estimate.

After negotiating the shorter and easier, but equally execrable, descent, we found ourselves in a valley enclosed by a ring of barren mountains. Passing through this gloomy basin, which was destitute of tree, scrub or habitation, we first forded the Steenbrazems River and then reached the broad and deep Palmiet River, where the ruins are still to be seen of a house used by General Janssens as his headquarters when he retired with his forces across the pass twenty years ago. After resting here for a while, we drove in the dark to Knoflookskraal, outspanned there until the moon rose, with the wolves howling in our immediate neighbourhood, and then crossed the Houw Hoek Pass, continuing as far as the Both River, where we outspanned for the rest of the night.

Next morning I was awakened by the singing of the men

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and women of our company who were seated in a circle round the fire. It was an agreeable experience hearing a sacred song in my own language deep in the African wilds. For these Dutch colonists, despite twenty years of British rule, still retain their native language. On the whole I found them to be a race of sturdy men and women, blessed with a cheerful and happy disposition. What particularly struck me was the absence of any aversion on their part to these expeditions to town, considering the arduous nature of the journey and the low prices fetched by their produce on the Cape Town market, which hardly compensate them for the trouble and expense of transport. Their produce is sold by measure, not weight, which seems to me absurd. The generality of those I encountered were of a kindly and obliging nature, though not wholly free from greed. The men are invariably fond of a tot of brandy, and they have a marked liking for tobacco, which they carry in loose leaves in their camisole-pockets where natural action grinds it fine. Despite their small faults, I consider them an eminently respectable people.

At dawn next morning we crossed the Both River, soon after reaching the Lange Hoogte. The country here assumes a different aspect, naked and rugged mountains giving place to a succession of rounded hills, called ‘ruggens’, with tiny streams winding through long valleys past scattered wheatfields. The bare, reddish roads leading across these - at present beautifully green - heights are firm and wide, but invariably slope to the side. To lessen the dangers of descending steep declines the farmers attach a wooden drag to one of the rear wheels. Lange Hoogte itself, though rising three to four hundred feet above its base, is easily negotiated by reason of the gradualness of the slope. Veld and sky here are alive with snakes, beasts and birds of prey. Beyond the hill we passed Boontjes Kraal. The houses in these parts are usually of burnt brick, mortared together, and covered with shell lime. Further on we reached Klipheuvel, the last halting place on our trip. From there we followed the course of the Caledon River which, being practically dry at the time, was covered with a profusion of brilliant and fragrant heaths and other wild flowers. We finally crossed over to the village of Caledon, where I delivered some letters of recommendation from the Truters to field-cornet Kleyn. He very kindly preceded us to the baths, situated a quarter of

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an hour's ride to the north-east of the village, and made the necessary arrangements for me. On our arrival at the baths Swart carried me into the lodging-house where we parted over a glass of wine.

Fourth letter.

Cape Town,
28th May, 1825.

In my last I described our sixty-hour journey by horse-drawn waggon to the Caledon baths. I will now say something about my new surroundings. The bath-house, which is situated on the southern side of the Zwartberg, is a fairly large building. Its construction was undertaken in 1805 by Dr. J.F. Hassner, to whom General Janssens had granted proprietary rights to the hot springs and the surrounding country, but it was not completed till 1811. The building comprises fourteen bedrooms, two kitchens and a pantry, and it is bisected by a dark and clammy passage running the length of the building. The woodwork and masonry is of the rudest description. The small, ill-furnished bedrooms, provided with only one window each, and with floors of earth, which are periodically treated with cow dung, are gloomy and stuffy cells.

The uncanny silence within the building, together with the aspect of the heavy and, at their base, moss-grown surrounding walls gave me the impression of living in a fairly decent prison. My gloom was heightened by the death, within a few hours of my arrival, of the only other patient in residence. Finally, Arend, my servant, maintained a constant silence and without warning me fled the place, which he believed to be haunted. My landlord having previously gone off on a visit of some days, I spent two nights and a day in the building without either food or company, except for a fowl which I slew and cooked with difficulty, until field-cornet Kleyn, happening to call on me, rescued me from this predicament. He fetched Arend back from Caledon, whither he had fled, and also hired another slave to keep him company.

Adjoining the lodging-house on the northern side are the four bathrooms, built entirely of stone and connected with the sleeping quarters by enclosed passages. Formerly

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the baths were established in one of the rooms of the lodging-house, but as a result of the vapour escaping from the room the walls and ceilings throughout the building were perpetually damp. The present baths, which are rectangular in shape and are paved with stone, are sunk into the ground to a depth of about four feet, with stone steps leading up to the floor level at one end. Into each of the four baths water from a different spring is introduced through a large copper tap. I frequented the bath furthest to the east, the water of which is the hottest. Much of the natural heat of the water is lost as a result of fissures in the stone aqueducts conducting the water from the mountain to the baths. However one can by pre-warming the bath with the water manage a temperature of 100^o F. to 110^o F. Patients usually remain immersed in the water up to their necks for ten to fifteen minutes at a time, at the same time drinking a small quantity of the clear blue water to promote perspiration. Some also add to the water various herbs with medicinal properties. The great heat produces a marked quickening of the pulse and causes the patient very nearly to faint. For that reason it is not advisable to take the bath unattended. When the bath is emptied, a sediment of yellowish gravel, resembling iron-rust, is found covering the bottom.

The first week of my stay at the baths was most tedious. Deprived of all company, except for the occasional visits of my taciturn servant, I passed most of the time reading, my thoughts often straying to the people and things at home. From my window I looked upon two grave-stones, and over a heath-covered rise to the bleak, forbidding peaks of a nearby mountain range. From the furrow below came the never-ceasing sound of running water. On Sunday, 17th April, I received company in the person of Kleyn, his wife and sister-in-law, and as these ladies hailed from Gelderland, our conversation naturally centred on the fatherland. Next day I had Arend carry me to the house of Coetzee, since 1824 the superintendent of the establishment, situated a hundred paces away. This house was spacious, besides which there were various outbuildings containing, amongst others, a billiard-room. His farmyard presented a most animated scene, a swarm of naked Hottentot children roving around the house in company with domestic birds and animals of every description. Amongst the latter I was struck by the large-sized

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ducks, the multitude of pigs, mostly running wild, and the ungainly, heavy-tailed sheep.

After a fortnight I discontinued taking baths, having derived no evident benefit from the use of either the upper or lower bath. My feet, in particular, swelled badly every day. A week later, however, on the advice of others, I resumed my visits to the lower bath. The upper or old bath is situated higher up the mountainside, consisting of a rectangular wooden basin, let into the ground, and enclosed by four bare walls and a thatch of bamboo reeds resting on a framework of crude poplar spars. The building is both dirty and damp as a result of the moisture continually escaping from the leaking wooden pump. The temperature of its water, which is considerably above that of the lower baths, is stated to be 156^o F. For this reason it is much frequented, despite the disadvantage of not being immediately attached to a lodging-house, which necessitates passing to and fro in the open air. A little higher up is located the slave bath, consisting of a large circular basin within a small hut, near to which is a large stone hut in which the slaves are lodged. Arend used to carry me to the upper bath. Along the difficult and undulating path leading to it numbers of black porous stones are to be seen, which have given rise to speculations as to the possible existence of a volcano in these parts in former times. Here also the most beautiful flowers and shrubs abounded.

In the second week of my stay I met a certain Jan Swart who inquired after his ancestry in Friesland and advised me to use Buchu brandy internally and externally. But I felt no inclination to do this. Swart was living with his children; but, having transferred his possessions to them beforehand, was prone to find himself an unwanted guest. One night I nearly caused a fire, due to the wick of my candle being made of old linen or stocking yarn instead of cotton - a habit of making candles they have here.

On Thursday, 28th July, Coetzee and Arend accompanied me in Kleyn's waggon to the farm of Bredekamp, situated about an hour's ride to the east of the baths, a short distance south of the post road to Swellendam. This farm, which is some two thousand morgen in extent, maintains 130 horses, 110 head of cattle and about 700 sheep. The homestead, stables and a host of smaller buildings, all located together at the foot of a rise, have the appearance of a small settlement.

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A new house was in course of construction at the time of our visit. As far as the window sills the walls were of roughly-hewn stone, and from there upwards of rude bricks of the farmers' own manufacture. The layout of the building is peculiar; two distinct sections, of two rooms each, being connected by a lengthy broad corridor, which is itself divided across the middle into two rooms. The house was being thatched with fine reeds, which are reputed to last fifty years. I noticed that the oats in one of the rooms was browner and heavier than Dutch oats, but the barley about the same as our summer barley. The farm also had its own mill, which was driven by water. At our departure Bredekamp, who owns several fishing boats, presented me with a magnificent sealskin, a rare article at the Cape as the British ships which catch the seals in large numbers in St. Sebastian's Bay transport the oil and skins directly to Europe. Bredekamp, a sensible man, also advised me to use the baths again, though only, fully immersed, once a day, which I did; he considered the swelling of my feet to be due to weakness, not dropsy, which cheered me considerably.

I had derived so much pleasure from this outing that I asked Coetzee for a gentle horse next morning and rode down to Caledon village. I first inspected the village church, a large building in cruciform erected in 1812 by a certain Theunis. It was inaugurated in 1813 by the Rev. Mr. Vos, and with the parsonage cost 30,000 rix-dollars. With its ring-wall, its plastered and whitewashed walls and its neat thatched roof, it makes a most pleasing impression. The interior, in contrast, is most disappointing: the floor is of earth and the roof open to the thatch and rafters. Along each of the side walls runs a gallery, with the aisles directly below them, the centre of the floor being taken up by a multitude of chairs of diverse shapes and colours. The pulpit stands about the middle of the cross. The present minister is a Scotchman, the Rev. Mr. Thom. There is little else worthy of notice in the village, which is made up of about twenty-eight, mostly white-washed, houses standing in a straight line, with many unfinished structures in between. At its southern end is the former residence of the Deputy Landdrost, with the gaol, here called ‘tronk’, and other offices adjoining. On its eastern side is a water-propelled corn mill, simply but effectively constructed. The poverty of the village, which is due to its

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situation among these tall, sterile hills, has increased since the removal of the Deputy-drostdy.

Other guests who arrived towards the end of my stay were Ignatius Wéridietski, a Pole, an old soldier, married to a Dutch woman, and very religious, and George Nicholl, a mason of Caledon village.

On Saturday, 7th May, Coetzee and I drove out to the farm of Jan Marré, situated in a south-westerly direction at the foot of the Tower of Babylon, a naked peak rising high above the rest of the range. As far as the Steenboks River the road was tolerably good, but at that point it descended steeply into a deep ravine, skirting the edge of a precipice. Notwithstanding the drags attached to the rear wheels the waggon gained such momentum that the horses had great difficulty in keeping their feet. After fording the river down below we had to negotiate an equally perilous ascent on the other side. We arrived at Marré's place at about noon. The old man's household, which included thirteen children, several in-laws and grandchildren, were gathered round the spacious and sumptuously laden table. Several female slaves were waiting at table, while two males were standing around with fans to ward off the flies. Everything, in fact, was left to the care of slaves on that farm. The farmer's beautifully dressed daughters attended to nothing, even having their children suckled by the female slaves. Near to the homestead four ploughs were going, each drawn by ten horses or oxen and attended by three persons with different functions. To the rear of every plough was attached a harrow for smoothing the earth turned up by the plough. A short distance away was a fine vineyard of some fifty thousand vines, largely of the ‘hanepoot’ variety, which is held to produce the finest wine. The total annual yield is expected to reach fifty leaguers by next season when the young vines will also be in full bearing.

Immediately on my return to the baths I started arranging for a trip to Genadendal. Accordingly, on Monday, 9th May, another member of the Swart family presented himself at my door with his horse-drawn waggon. Leaving Caledon we drove in a westerly direction round the Zwartberg, crossed the Klipheuvel, and then followed the course of the Zwart River, which had to be crossed on no fewer than six occasions in the course of its many windings among the hills. We

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rested at P. Marré's farm, and from there followed the Sergeants River, along the banks of which the common reed, as distinct from the Spanish and bamboo varieties, which are also found here, grows most luxuriously. A striking sight also was the numbers of finchnests hanging from the ends of poplar tree branches along this river. Eventually we reached the Zonder Einde River, so called by reason of its excessive length. This mud-coloured river, which flows with great rapidity, during the rainy season frequently rises to a level of thirty or forty feet, overflowing its banks and sweeping along trees as well as great quantities of sand and stone. Two years ago a bridge was erected across the river, the surrounding farmers bearing the cost to the amount of more than four thousand rix-dollars, while the inhabitants of Genadendal contributed their personal labour and the use of their waggons. The bridge, which was built entirely by skilled Hottentots, has a long and narrow horizontal main structure resting on seven tall brick pillars. It is 50 to 60 yards long and about 2 yards wide. Its surface is, however, just as rolling and uneven as that of the veld surrounding it, with the result that even the bold African drivers dread crossing it. Accordingly, we had to outspan and push the waggon across, the horses swimming through the stream. Proud bridges and other structures as there are in England, little of the kind is to be seen in this Colony, and as scarce as bridges are inns. One usually brings along one's own provisions and outspans at some grassy spot to take refreshments. On these occasions one seldom sees pipes; indeed, the women smoke more than the men and do not eschew chewing tobacco and other herbs.

Beyond the bridge we followed a sandy tract to the basin amongst the mountains in which Genadendal village is situated. This village, consisting of some hundreds of miserable little huts occupied by partially clothed or entirely naked Hottentots, is famous as a Moravian Mission Station. The four missionaries at present stationed here are Messrs. Halbeck, Fritz, Voogt and Stein. The schoolroom, in which classes of more than a hundred Hottentot boys and girls each are by turns instructed in reading, writing and arithmetic by Messrs. Stein and Fritz respectively, is a spacious, neat and well-equipped building. Dutch books are used. The pupils, some of whom were completely nude and others but slightly covered, frequently with ‘krossen’ (mantles of sheepskin),

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displayed great diligence and attention. The girls are also taught sewing, knitting and similar arts by the missionaries' wives. Some had attained a surprising degree of proficiency at embroidery. But what impressed and pleased me most was the singular harmony and beauty of their singing.

We paid a visit to the mill, situated against the slope of a hill from which the water is conducted along a wooden trough on to the mill-wheel which revolves under the force of the impact. By an ingenious device the wheel stops automatically when grinding is completed, without the water having to be diverted. Next we inspected the knife factory, where knives of excellent quality for every imaginable purpose are made. Next door to it is the smithy, where agricultural implements are manufactured. Omitting the other workshops we returned to the simple residence of the instructors where we joined them at supper. Instead of saying grace, they sing a sacred verse at table. At seven that evening we attended divine service in the church, the Rev. Halbeck being the preacher. The church, which was filled to capacity with Hottentot worshippers, is a fine, rectangular building, the roof of which is supported by two massive pillars. On three sides are spacious galleries, on the fourth the pulpit, flanked by separate doors for men and women.

The Hottentot inhabitants of the village number about thirteen hundred. Their distinguishing feature is their prominent cheek-bones. All have short, frizzled black hair; some of the men also displaying a slight growth of hair upon their chins. The women are sometimes grouped under the androgines. Their language is characterized by peculiar click sounds produced by the action of the tongue in contact with the palate. The women wear quaint sandals, consisting of a plank held to the feet by a short shaft passing between the toes.

Next morning I strolled to the garden situated to the west of the house, consisting of a vineyard and vegetable garden separated by a broad central path lined with trained-up fruit trees. In the centre of the garden is to be seen a pear tree planted there in 1750 by George Schmidt, the founder of the station. On the slopes of the mountain opposite I noticed the beautiful silver trees. After dining with the kind instructors we returned by the same route, arriving home after dark. The expenses of the trip proved more than I had anti-

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cipated, but, owing to the reasonable charges at Genadendal, not too exorbitant.

After spending two days quietly at the baths I engaged Hendrik Wessels of the village to drive me to the coast, a trip which was to bring me most adventurous experiences over dangerous roads and precipices and in fearsome caves. At daybreak on the morning of the 15th May we loaded his waggon with bedding, provisions, cooking utensils, hunting and fishing tackle, and set off across the range of high hills to the south for Cape Agulhas, most southerly point of the African continent. Beyond the hills we came to a pass through the mountains where we had to descend by a most precipitous, boulder-strewn tract to a deep gorge through which the Hertebeest River winds its way. We followed this river from there to the Tower of Babylon, previously mentioned. It is beyond my powers to do justice to the rugged grandeur of the scenery or to convey any adequate idea of the glorious spectacle provided by the countless varieties of heath and wild flowers (the everlasting flower, protea, etc.) growing in profusion along this route. To the south of the Tower of Babylon we came to a depression known as the Diepe Gat where we outspanned. Resuming our journey we noticed against the bare slopes of the hills to the west considerable numbers of antheaps of enormous size, many of which had been partly destroyed by ant-eaters. Further along we crossed a stony rise and then followed a marshy tract to another chain of high mountains.

At the foot of this range we turned off into a deep and lonesome valley in which the Leper Institute is situated. The institute, erected in 1820 by the Government, comprises two buildings: one, the residence of the Rev. and Mrs. Leitner of the Moravian Missionary Society, the other, a prison-like structure which houses the patients. The inmates, who numbered a hundred and fifteen at the time, are provided for by the Government. Though rendered unsightly by the monstrous swelling of the head or the loss of one or more digital members (the disease has two chief forms), the patients experience little pain except towards the very end. Many also display frightful sores, which are caused by incurable wounds. In addition to the above-mentioned buildings, numbers of huts are scattered about the valley in which the Hottentot patients live by preference, many of whom have

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been joined by their healthy consorts merely for the sake of living upon the support of government. After a short stay we left this vale of misery, which bears the name of Hemel en Aarde (Heaven and Earth), presumably because nought else is visible from there by reason of the high surrounding mountains.

After driving past the Artjes Vlei we ascended a steep and rocky mountainside, noticing many baboons on an opposite mountain. From the summit we had our first glimpse of the vast ocean to the south. The road from that point was alternately sandy, water-logged, marshy or stony. Night fell before we had reached the Mossel River, so that we had to grope our way in the dark to the seaside house of D.R.A. Cloete at the mouth of the Kleine River, closely followed for some distance by a leopard. Cloete lives at Stellenbosch and only keeps some cattle here. Inside the house, which is firmly built upon a rock, we found the Hottentot herd and his wife, who are the sole tenants of the place, warming themselves in the kitchen before the fire in company with several lazy, evil-smelling friends who had come down there to fish. For the river, which is transformed into a fresh-water lake by a sandbank across its mouth, abounds with fish. The Hottentot women were puffing at their short-stemmed pipes with evident pleasure. Knowing them also to be very fond of strong liquor (like many seamen!), I utilised a quantity of brandy I had with me to start them dancing. The Hottentots possess a musical instrument of about the size of a guitar, called a ‘rokkie’, made up of a narrow plank with three strings running the length of it and an earthenware pot at one end across which calfskin is tightly drawn. It is played with a bow or like a guitar. To the accompaniment of this instrument the women pranced like sprightly calves, provoking my unrestrained laughter.

Next morning we crossed the river mouth and drove southwards between the sanddunes lining the shore and the tall, barren mountains to the left, to Cape Agulhas.¹ The ground on either side of the road was densely covered with brushwood a yard or two high. I also noticed many new kinds of fauna, insects and flora, e.g. the waxbush. After driving along this heavy, exhausting road for some hours,

1 Teenstra here really means Danger Point.

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we turned to the right and passed through the dunes to the beach. From this spot we had a magnificent view of huge foam-crested waves breaking on the shore and swirling round numberless projecting rocks out to sea. Our attention, however, was soon diverted to fishing, for the waters along this part of the coast abound with many varieties of fish, like Table and False Bays. From the rocks we caught a considerable number of stumpnose and ‘hottentots’, most of them as heavy as haddock. This sport engrossed our attention for such a length of time that we had hardly started off again before darkness overtook us. With the driver walking at the horses' heads, we groped our way dangerously for some hours till Strandfontein was reached, where water and grazing were to be had. We outspanned and kindled a large fire on which a delicious meal of fish and potatoes was cooked, after which I retired to my bed in the waggon, the others simply bedding down amongst the bushes.

Next day we drove back from this, the most southerly point of Africa, to two marvellous caves along this coast. Arrived above the first cave, I was lowered by rope over the edge of a cliff to the entrance down below. From there I gazed in awe at the precipitous rocky face rising before me, in the fissures of which the sunlight discovered lizards, snakes and a host of other scaly creatures. The entrance to the cave is a triangular opening, some six to eight yards high and as wide at the base. I had a fire lighted at the entrance and by the light of two candles, carried by one of the party, we crawled along a lengthy, narrow passage, finally emerging into a dark and close cave. This cave opened into a bigger one with smooth sides and an irregular, dome-shaped ceiling. From here another passage led off to the right. Walking with some difficulty along this irregularly-surfaced passage, which is considerably wider at the top than at the bottom, we encountered a chilly draught, while numbers of bats fluttered about our heads, finally putting out one of the candles, which was immediately relighted, however. The passage issued into a large, circular cavern, better illuminated by daylight and less stuffy than the passage, and the dome of which is supported by a huge square block of granite. The crash of the breakers close by filled it with an awe-inspiring sound. A spacious opening towards the sea afforded an easy outlet, of which we availed ourselves.

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Having safely scaled the cliffside we drove on to the cave famous for its petrifactions, the Druipkelder. After again descending a steep rocky face we crawled through a narrow opening into a dark cave. The candle-light revealed numbers of stalagmites of varying heights dotting the sloping, sandy floor, directly above each of which a stalactite descended from the roof, a drop of water gleaming at its point. Some years ago a stalagmite of a height of six or seven feet, and six to seven inches in diameter, the largest piece of petrifaction in the cave, was removed to Groot Constantia, the farm of Mr. Cloete, by Mr. M. Beukes, a local man, who received a reward of 1,000 florins for this herculean task. The remaining pyramids are comparatively small. In section the cone displays a widening series of rings indicative of its growth, and a yellowish-white pith. Having completed our inspection we left the stuffy cave by the same way, reaching the waggon above in safety. The shore here is lined with cobble stones, ground round and even like eggs, and the larger ones apparently suited for cannon-balls.

Before resuming our journey we went on the rocks once more for some fishing, using catfish as bait (a fish differing somewhat from the Dutch variety). Within a very short time our company landed some fifty fish, including some red and white ‘dageraads’ and ochre ‘klipvis’. My contribution included a magnificent red roman, the pick of the catch. After a meal of fried fish we packed up and set off on the return journey, via Baviaansfontein and Uilekraal, to the farm of H. van der Merwe. The road was sandy and heavy. Fom here we crossed the hills to a depression known as the Hell, in which there was a cattle post of a certain Van der Byl, inhabited by a solitary Bastard herdsman. His hut, into which I poked my nose, contained little and stank dreadfully. Crossing the steep mountains from there we followed an undulating and difficult road to the farm of Jan Smal, lying to the south of Kleinrivierskloof, where we slept that night. After a long drive next day via Wolfsgat and the farm of Tesselaar, we reached Caledon and the baths after dark and in heavy rain, after an absence of four days.

Having derived little benefit from the baths, I decided the following day against staying any longer, and accordingly arranged with Wessels to convey me to town. After settling with the incompetent Coetzee, we started on the morning

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of Thursday, 19th May, taking a different route to that we had followed on the outward journey. Passing Klipheuvel we made a halt at Wolfskraal, and then drove via du Toit's farm as far as the Zonder Einde River, where we stayed for the night. On the way Wessels told me superstitious tales of Hottentots who could change themselves into animals, and how the Dutch had taken the Cape by exterminating the Hottentots, which of course is a ridiculous story since van Riebeeck bought the Cape from the Hottentots. After a night of severe frost, which was responsible for my contracting a severe cold despite my being covered with a ‘veldkombers’ (sheepskin-blanket), we started off in glorious weather next morning. After crossing the river, we headed for the Fransch Hoek Mountains, leaving Smit's farm on the left. The crossing of the pass through the mountains, despite the improvements already effected by the Government, remains a most difficult and perilous undertaking and occupied the whole of two hours. After ascending a stony rise past fantastically-shaped rocks, we reached a broad stream across which a bridge was being built by British military offenders whose camp lay close by. From that point the road wound gradually upwards, bounded on one side by the hewn-out mountainside and on the other by loose boulders and gravel piled along the precipitous slope. After passing the Tollgate we reached, considerably further on, a second bridge in course of construction, beyond which the road took an exceptionally sharp turn, necessitating our disengaging the leading horses. We had left doing this so late, however, that we nearly toppled down the precipice. From there the road widened somewhat to the top. At the summit we were presented with a magnificent view of the fertile Fransch Hoek valley, the scattered houses, vineyards and wheat fields presenting a most diminutive appearance. Here also commences a waterfall which drops some 600 to 700 feet to the valley below. The descent to the valley proved to be shorter but even more abrupt than the ascent had been.

At the bottom we stopped at the farm of le Roux, whose name, like that of the valley itself, recalls the settlement of the Huguenots in this quarter in the seventeenth century, after their flight to Holland from France. After resting for the night further down on the banks of the Berg River, we resumed our journey next morning, leaving the farm of

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de Villiers on our right and travelling past numerous other farms. This valley, in fact, proved to be more densely settled than any other part of the Colony I had visited. On the whole, however, the design of the houses and the lay-out of gardens and plantations were irregular and evinced little taste. At Banghoek we outspanned alongside a small stream. From a deep winding gorge in the mountains opposite, numerous small clouds, resembling bubbles, were unceasingly rising to the mountain top where they settled and collected to form large clouds. This reminded me of ‘Cape Clouds’, which is a bluish phenomenon of clouds or stars associated with the Milky Way. Starting again, we drove along a road shaded by oaks and poplars heavier than any I have seen in Africa, finally topping a rise and crossing a plain to the village of Stellenbosch. In descending we had left the beautiful farms of de Wet and Cloete to the right.

This village, named after its founder, Governor van der Stel, is the seat of magistracy for the surrounding district, and is chiefly distinguished by its magnificent, broad oak avenues. The Drostdy, erected in 1766, is a very handsome building. The Church, an insignificant structure, was raised in 1684, burned down, together with the rest of the village, in 1710, and rebuilt in 1722. With few exceptions the houses are thatched with reeds, which is the cause of frequent and disastrous fires. In 1803 slaves caused a very disastrous fire.

Leaving the village in the afternoon, we crossed several bare hills and entered the dunes, where our weak and famished horses started failing us. By the frequent application of the whip the driver urged them on to a small stream where we outspanned for the night. The laziness of the drivers, which prevented them from greasing the waggons with animal fat, also made going heavier. In the cool of the evening I strolled into the veld where I encountered an enormous yellow snake, called a puffadder. My servant went up to it with a stick and easily dispatched the reptile, which, according to him and others, could only strike at persons approaching from the rear. Though only a yard in length, it measured about eleven inches in circumference. The snakes are stated to migrate to these sand-flats during winter to escape the cold elsewhere. I have also seen many schapenstekers, and other varieties found here are the koperkapel, black snake, rinkals, etc.

Next morning, after the horses, which had been tied to

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the waggon all night, had run free for an hour, we inspanned and continued our journey across the extensive, desolate, sandy waste called the Cape Flats. It is generally supposed that Table Bay and False Bay were formerly connected by sea across this neck of land. It is reliably reported that the keel of a ship has been discovered here, embedded in the sand. After a day of heavy going we reached the Salt River by late afternoon, and entering the town from the north-east by the Kromme Poort, finally drew up in front of Miss Truter's house, where I settled with Wessels and Arend.

The first news of my fatherland proved very disquietening, the local paper of the 21st May, reporting serious floods and storms in Holland in the neighbourhood of my home. In addition, I was awakened the first night in Cape Town by a serious fire. In a following letter I shall tell you more of this Colony, particularly of Cape Town.

Fifth letter.

Cape Town,
22nd June, 1825.

My health having improved considerably since my arrival here, I have spent much of my time exercising my limbs and viewing Cape Town. The town, which was founded by Jan van Riebeeck in 1652, is situated in a pleasant valley between the bay and the mountain. It roughly follows the curve of Table Bay (given this name by Joris van Spilbergen), and has lately been extending itself particularly towards the west. Its population, according to the latest census, numbers 18,662. Its streets run up from the bay to the mountain and across at right angles to one another. Most of the 1,500 houses are flat-roofed, double-storeyed, brick structures, plastered and white-washed, with green doors and shutters. The shutters, which cover only half the windows, and the multitude of small panes give them an old Dutch appearance. The interior arrangements, however, differ widely from the Dutch. The houses are generally built according to a uniform plan: the front door opens into a spacious ‘voorhuis’ or hall, leading off into smaller rooms on either side, with lofty ceilings and paved floors to preserve coolness, while the

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kitchen and slave quarters are situated at the back. The woodwork of the houses are invariably of indigenous iron-, yellow- or stinkwood.

Around the town are located the various forts and batteries protecting the bay. Chief of these is the old Castle, frontally defended by the Imhoff Battery. The Castle is now in a dilapidated condition and is occupied by a small garrison of British soldiers. Further to the north-east, along the edge of the bay, are the smaller batteries Koehoorn and Gordon, and to the north-west the important Amsterdam and Chavonnes batteries. The bay, which abounds with fish, is considered unsafe for shipping in the winter months. Some consider that it provides but an unsafe anchorage at the best of times. In support of this view it may be mentioned that during the summer of 1821 seven ships were driven ashore during a violent storm.

The town was presented with a coat of arms by Commissioner-General de Mist, consisting of an anchor resting on a gold field and covered with a red shield bearing three gold rings, these being taken from van Riebeeck's coat of arms. The town has no surrounding walls or gateways, and the few canals and watercourses are of small importance. It, however, boasts several spacious squares which considerably enhance the appearance of the town.

The public buildings of the town include a number of churches. The oldest of these, the Dutch Reformed Church, situated at the western end of Church Square, is a square, white-washed building, with a fifty-foot clock tower on its northern side. Previous to the addition of four flat-roofed corner sections, the building had the shape of a cross. The interior of the church is attractive: the wooden ceiling rests on four massive white pillars, and the walls are hung with numerous escutcheons. Along one wall runs a spacious gallery; against another is placed the magniticent pulpit, with the organ at the opposite end. The Lutheran Church, standing on Strand Street, was presented to the congregation by a wealthy farmer of Elsenburg, Martin Melck by name. The congregation, at its inception fully sixty years ago, held its meetings surreptitiously in a warehouse of Melck's which stood on the same spot on which the Church now stands. The building, which is very nearly square in shape, with a small steeple at its southern end and a lovely iron gate, has

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been recently completely reconditioned. Its roof, however, which is unsupported by pillars, has such a wide angle that it must be expected in time to collapse under its own weight. A swan, a favourite symbolic figure with the Lutherans, is carved on the front gable, while various images and reproductions of the same bird adorn the interior of the building. The organ is small, but a beautiful and costly instrument.

Among the churches which more particularly serve the English section of the community may be mentioned the Roman Catholic Church at the eastern end of the town, not quite completed as yet. A rectangular, white-washed building with a sharply tapering roof, it has a lantern tower at one end. The principal entrance is situated in the western gable, which is surmounted with a black cross, while the side walls are adorned with numerous small turrets, giving the building a peculiar mediaeval appearance. Its priest, P. Scully, has recently deserted his charge. The Reformed congregation has a meeting-house in Long Street, also called the African Mission House. This was built by the Mission Society, established in 1799, and has recently been much improved. It is a handsome building and can seat a thousand persons. Finally, there are the chapels of the Dissenters. The one, commonly termed the English Church, stands at the corner of Church Square and is served by the Rev. Dr. Philip; the other, the Methodist or Wesleyan Church, is situated to the rear of the barracks and is served by the Rev. B. Shaw. The Anglican community holds its services in the Dutch Reformed Church. Attempts by the government to get the Dutch churches to hold their services in English have so far entirely failed.

The Freemasons possess several large and splendid buildings, of which the three adjoining lodges on the Looyersplein¹ are the finest. The principal one, the Lodge de Goede Hoop, is a magnificent temple with a beautiful garden and facade in Gothic² style. It comprises a large hall and several smaller rooms which house many splendid statues. In the grounds of the lodge is situated a handsome and well-equipped clubhouse. According to various sea-captains this is the most beautiful lodge in the world. Further along the street are the British lodge, Concordia,³ and the Dutch lodge, De Goede

1 Now Stalplein.

2 Actually ‘Grecian’.

3 Actually British Lodge No. 637, ‘Concordia Garden’.

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Trouw, neither of which is comparable with the first-mentioned temple either in size or beauty.

At the south-eastern corner of the Boereplein is the theatre. Erected in 1798,¹ it is a comparatively small building of pleasing appearance in which the boxes are arranged in a semi-circle round the pit. On Saturday nights the house is usually well filled with men and women, the latter, to my mind, rather scantily clad for the occasion. The Town House, a double-storeyed building surmounted with a lantern tower, stands at the southern end of Market Square. Above the main entrance is carved the town's coat of arms, flanked with sculptured cannon. The meetings of the Town Council are held in the hall on the upper floor which leads on to a balcony in front, from which public announcements are made. Against the western wall of this hall there hangs a picture bust of Van Riebeeck, the founder of the Colony. At its eastern end there is a richly-carved and inlaid armourer's cupboard. On the 15th June I attended a crowded meeting of citizens in this hall at which the Government's action in fixing the value of the paper rix-dollar at 1/6 was vehemently denounced, and unfavourable comparisons generally drawn between the English and Dutch Governments - justifiably, to my mind.

On the north side of the Parade are the shambles, Custom House and prison; at its western end the new and handsome Commercial Exchange, of which the commercial fraternity, however, makes little use, and at² its south-eastern corner the barracks, a huge and costly affair capable of housing 4,000 troops, and originally built by the Dutch East India Company to serve as a hospital and warehouse. A large hospital, named after Governor Somerset, has recently been erected at the north-western outskirts of the town. At the corner of Church Square, next to the Dutch Reformed Church, is a large building, formerly the slave lodge, which houses many Government departments, including the Court of Justice. One of its rooms also serves as the home of the Public Library, established a few years ago, which is supported by a fund accruing from a tax on imported wine.³ It already contains some two thousand volumes, including many new and important publications. Many current periodicals and newspapers

1 Actually ‘1800’.

2 Rather ‘near’.

3 Simply all wines passing through Cape Town, not necessarily imported.

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are also taken in. A museum of natural history will also shortly be opened in this building.

The Parade itself is an attractive plain bordered by a double row of pine trees, on which the military forces parade and manoeuvre every Sunday in the presence of the Governor. It is also the favourite promenade, especially on Sundays, of the young ladies of the town. By contrast, the once-famous Government Gardens are but ill-frequented. The garden, which slopes down towards the town, is divided by long oak avenues into rectangular blocks which were previously planted with flowers and trees, but which are now ploughed over. Broken down hedges add to the general appearance of neglect and decay. Barrow attributes this to the Hollanders, but he is here as slanderous as elsewhere. At the back of the garden, to the right of the central avenue, is the menagerie, the tenants of which include lions, leopards, hyenas and various other indigenous wild animals. At the lion-house I witnessed a savage engagement between two full-grown lions in which both displayed a degree of strength, courage and agility which overwhelmed me. On the opposite side of the avenue is a spacious walled enclosure which contained no more than a few ostriches and a number of dogs at the time of my visit. Adjoining the menagerie, to the north-west, is the new slave lodge, confronted by a fine walled pond with willows. An experiment with a small steam ship, still entirely novel to this country, proved a failure on this pond.

Visiting the prison in Strand Street I witnessed the most appalling scenes. Just inside the entrance was a row of cells in which the prostrate forms of numbers of foul-smelling slave and Hottentot prisoners were to be seen, most of whom were practically nude, and some of whom were also chained. These poor beings are treated worse than animals, and in a way degrading to Christians and Europeans. Advancing further into the place I was startled by the wails of a female slave tied to a post in the courtyard, upon whom thirty-nine lashes were being inflicted at the request of her owner. The Bible (Mosaic law) allows forty, but to be on the safe side when counting thirty-nine are given. Finally I reached the treadmill where ten or twelve slaves, dressed merely in breeches, were undergoing punishment. This is the severest form of punishment. The wheel itself has the shape of an oblong cylinder, six or seven yards in length and two yards in diameter,

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around the outside of which twenty-four strips of wood, ten to twelve inches wide, are fitted, on which the victims tread with their feet to keep the wheel in motion. A policeman, a callous, unkempt ruffian, kept guard over them. The prisoners are subjected to this form of torture from dawn till noon, and again from one o'clock to sunset, by which time they are reduced to a state of helpless exhaustion. Owners have been known to send particularly obstinate slaves to the treadmill on six to eight successive days. The worst of the whole business is that it is always necessary to have sufficient prisoners to drive the mill as it is hired out by the Government to contractors, the Government pledging the labour. To find the required number of offenders the police are in the habit of seizing any drunken or brawling Hottentots or slaves found on the streets, particularly on Saturday and Sunday nights, to do the work.

Now let us turn to the slave-owners. However kindly and generous, hospitable, humane and religious the Capetonians are, they strongly resent any attempt to criticise slavery. They immediately tell you that you have brought your European prejudices against slavery with you, and that you are not in a position to form an unbiassed opinion on the subject. They assert that the slave-trade is approved by God and the Bible, and that emancipation would bring misery upon the masters as well as upon the slaves, as the latter, refusing to work, would either starve or take to the mountains and return to their original predatory mode of life. They represent, on the other hand, that the slaves are well cared for (that being in the owners' own interests), that they are reconciled to their position and cause no trouble unless stirred up by having false notions of liberty instilled into their heads. I would like, however, to put the question to you, inhabitants of the Cape, whether you have not grown accustomed to injustice, for it seems to me that no human being could ever become sufficiently reconciled to bondage to be happy in that condition. Look at the way oppressed nations have risen and are rising against their oppressors. Indeed, the Colony has just lately had proof that the instinct of liberty is not dead in their slaves. I refer to the murders committed in the Bokkenveld by slaves and the events connected therewith.

At the trial it was alleged that in February of last year a number of slaves and Hottentots of the Bokkenveld banded

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together for the purpose of attacking the neighbouring farms, collecting a strong following from among their fellows, and marching on Cape Town. Should they fail in their desperate undertaking, they proposed to flee to the Orange River to join the other lawless gangs in that quarter. The original gang of three slaves and three Hottentots, led by a slave named Galant, were in the course of operations joined and assisted by others. They started by attacking the places of their masters. At the first farm the master, though wounded, managed to escape. The rebels, possessing themselves of the arms and ammunition in the house, then proceeded to the farm of Galant's master, W.N. van der Merwe, where they murdered him and two other men and dangerously wounded a woman. The owner of the next farm, fortunately, happened to be away from home, and before the gang could do further mischief they were overtaken and captured by a commando of armed burghers.

Thirteen slaves and Hottentots were brought to trial who pleaded in defence excessive ill-usage on the part of their masters, alleging that they had been ill-fed and brutally flogged on the slightest pretext, and that Galant's year-old child by a female slave had been cruelly done to death by his master. These circumstances, they pleaded, together with rumours of emancipation and the prevalent impression that the masters were prolonging their slavery beyond the term fixed by Government, had impelled them to rise in order forcibly to procure redress. All the accused put the blame on Galant as having instigated the rising and seduced the others to complicity in the crime.

Evidence was led for the prosecution which tended to show that their allegations were without foundation, though medical evidence established that Galant, at least, had been excessively punished on various occasions. Undoubtedly, also, Galant's child had been maltreated. The prosecutor contended that the allegations had been put forward merely to cloak their real designs; that the rising had originated purely in feelings of disappointment and exasperation at the failure of their expectations of emancipation; that the object of the conspiracy had been the emancipation of the slaves; and that the Hottentots concerned had been used by the slaves to attain their own ends. The Court ultimately acquitted three of the accused, condemned the three ringleaders to death,

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ordering their heads to be exposed on stakes in the Bokkenveld, and sentenced five of the accomplices to be scourged, branded and confined to labour in irons for varying periods and two others to be flogged.

By permission of the Fiscal we visited the condemned men in prison. In the first cell we found Galant, chained to a block. He appeared resigned to his fate, declaring that he was alive to the magnitude of his crime and conscious of the Divine judgment that awaited him, but that he trusted to the mercy of God whom he was assiduously praying for forgiveness. At the same time he blamed his late master for his misfortunes. The others, who were in an adjoining cell, practically ignored our presence. Subsequently, they were removed to Worcester and the condemned men executed in the presence of an armed guard of burghers, the general public displaying surprisingly little interest in the event. All three died expressing remorse for their sins and asserting their belief in God's mercy. Replying to a question they said their last night's sleep on earth had been their best.

In the light of the above it is intelligible that the slave-owners dislike discussing emancipation, both for fear of such talk coming to the ears of the slaves, and because they are, for reasons of self-interest, completely opposed to such a measure. They declare that the slaves constitute the principal wealth of the Colony and that emancipation would entail a loss of three million rix-dollars. The progeny of slave women are legally held to be the property of the master; thus, if Galant's master did kill Galant's child, he would probably be considered as having acted within his rights. Every slave child born accordingly constitutes an increment to the master's wealth, depending upon the physical and mental qualities of the child. Slaves are not allowed to marry, but as slave women invariably have large families, slaveholding is naturally a very remunerative business. A wealthy lady of the town told me that she had a large farm across the mountains where she practised stock- and slave-breeding!

Many persons are sufficiently kind and generous at death to bequeath their slaves their freedom. But the authorities are not very helpful in this respect, demanding extravagant guarantees of support. Other persons are less humanely disposed. I was present on one occasion when the slaves forming part of a deceased estate were put up to auction.

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One by one they stepped upon a table to be sold to the highest bidder. Included among the slaves was an old Mozambique woman who, supporting herself upon the table by a crutch, tearfully appealed to the bystanders not to buy her as she was no longer capable of labour. The heirs finally decided to take her back, but her joy over this decision soon turned to the direst grief when her fifteen-year-old grandson, whom she had reared from infancy, was sold to a farmer from the Kaffir frontier. The miserable boy, crying most pitifully for his foster-mother, was bound and carried off before the eyes of the distraught old woman who could but wring her hands in an agony of grief. Thus do Christians behave; thus they flout the teaching of Christ and ignore the common brotherhood of man.

Sixth letter.

Cape Town,
2nd July, 1825.

In my last letter I promised to give you some general information about the Colony. Too much material I cannot communicate, however, having been much hampered in my investigations by my illness and the short period of my stay. For further information I refer you to the works of other travellers on the subject, whom I mention, and of whom Lichtenstein and Burchell are the most reliable.

The Colony was by treaty of 13th August, 1814, made over permanently to the British who had already been in occupation since 1806. The Colony borders on the Atlantic and Indian oceans to the west and south respectively, and extends to the Orange River in the north and the Keiskamma in the east, its present extent being estimated at 120,000 square miles. It is divided into eight administrative districts, three sub-districts, and the Simonstown residency, all of which are again divided into 154 field-cornetcies. Names of towns are frequently derived from Governors, e.g. Stellenbosch, Tulbagh. The total population in 1824 amounted to roughly 125,000 persons, of whom 57,000 were Europeans, 28,000 Hottentots and 40,000 slaves and mixed breeds. The Colony is administered by a Governor, with the assistance, since

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1825, of an Advisory Council made up of the principal government officials. The districts or Drostdys are administered by Landdrosts assisted respectively by six or eight Heemraden, in accordance with the principles and regulations established during the Batavian regime. These districts are again subdivided into wards, in each of which there is a burgher officer termed a field-cornet who is entrusted with a variety of functions of minor importance. Appeals lie from the Landdrosts' courts to the Court of Justice in Cape Town. The system of law applied is still Roman Dutch.

The Colony has a temperate and salubrious climate and is singularly free from contagious diseases. The people generally live a healthy life and retain their bodily strength and vigour to a ripe age. By contrast, the percentage of suicides is abnormally high. On occasion smallpox epidemics have wrought great havoc among the population, particularly among the natives. Vaccine was first introduced into the Colony in 1803 on the bold initiative of R. de Klerk Dibbetz, Inspector-General of Cape Hospitals, who procured a supply of virus from a Portuguese ship lying in the bay and began surreptitiously to inoculate the people. Though at first prejudiced against the practice, the Government subsequently, when its salutary effects became evident, placed the hospital at Dibbetz' disposal and suitably demonstrated its appreciation of his valuable and courageous services.

The climate is as pleasant as it is healthy. The longest day is December 21st, the shortest June 21st.

Dutch is still the language in general use in the Colony. It is heard in church, in court and in the theatre. Despite twenty years of British rule many Cape families are still unable to speak a word of English. For this reason the Administration has recently adopted various measures to foster the knowledge and use of the English language, like the Romans and French before them in the expansion of their empires. The Dutch spoken here has, however, diverged to a certain extent from that of Holland, and has developed various peculiarities of idiom and syntax. I am giving you an example of how the people speak at Caledon. The manners and customs obtaining here are likewise those of Holland, though they, like its language, have degenerated¹ somewhat.

1 What to Teenstra appears ‘degeneration’ was of course simply natural development in a new environment.

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The Dutch Reformed Church has by far the largest following of any denomination, having altogether fourteen establishments in the Colony and being the only denomination represented in the country districts. Ministers in Cape Town receive more than those in the country districts.

The women of this place are slaves of fashion and extravagant, neglecting and soon discarding their clothes, which explains why many female slaves are almost as gorgeously dressed as their mistresses.

The manner of washing here, too - scouring and hitting the material on a stone in a stream - is not calculated to prolong the life of the clothing. Clothes and fine tables are, indeed, features of the life of the inhabitants of the town. The English practice has been fairly extensively adopted of having only two meals per day: breakfast, at which, besides other dishes, different kinds of meat and fish, variously prepared, are served, and dinner from five to six in the afternoon. Even the cutlery is laid in the English way. For dessert they have a variety of preserved and pickled foods, the latter known by the name of atjar. After dessert the women generally leave the table and retire to another room, permitting the men to converse with greater freedom over a glass of wine and a pipe of tobacco. Later the card tables are brought in and arranged by the slaves, card playing being the favourite form of amusement at night. Practically every family possesses a piano, the people generally being passionately fond of music and dancing, playing cards and drinking. Frequent visits are also made to each other's homes. About their houses, I must say, the Capetonians are not so particular. These are often far from neat and but poorly furnished. Coffeehouses, hostelries, or other public places of amusement do not exist, except for an ill-frequented clubhouse on the Heerengracht and the Freemasons' club. The most popular amusements of the men, who count among their number a fair sprinkling of dandies, are riding, fishing, hunting and racing. Races are held at Green Point twice yearly, viz. in spring and autumn; cups are awarded and the betting is brisk. The meeting usually lasts two to three days, impromptu field sports following the racing and a great ball crowning the whole festival. To reduce the weight of horses and jockeys - the latter usually slave lads - both are sweated down before the race. The Governor, Lord Charles Somerset,

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who loves racing and also enters horses, is said to be a bad loser, but a good winner, acting most generously on the latter occasion.

The burghers' daughters are given a conversational and artistic education rather than a training in the duties of a home. Many of them marry at an early age, though but ill-equipped for married life. But, as they themselves point out, no very considerable degree of proficiency at housekeeping is required of them since they possess a superfluity of coloured servants. Because of the abundance of slaves, luxury and indolence have, indeed, taken firm root here. In addition, the very humanity and generosity of these townsmen have proved the undoing of many, as their fortunes are often so closely bound up with those of friends and relatives for whom they stand surety that the fall of one frequently produces the financial collapse of a whole family or circle of friends. Towards strangers they are most kind and hospitable. Immediately on making their acquaintance you are convinced of their kindly disposition, and on further intercourse they drop all reserve and treat you as one of them. It is a pity therefore that they should be blind to the disastrous consequences of persisting in their easy and luxurious way of life. I must also mention that the Capetonians are inclined to be superstitious. They believe that the earthquake of 1809 produced a colder climate which is responsible for the wine being less good than before. In addition, the presence of stockfish at the Cape is said to date from that event.

The people of Cape Town, Simonstown and Algoa Bay are chiefly engaged in the export and import trade; the inhabitants of the villages and local centres are mostly officials and small traders; while the rest of the European population are agriculturalists and stock-breeders. With the Kaffirs on the eastern border a brisk bartering trade is carried on. At the moment, however, the financial position of the Colony is steadily deteriorating.

Agriculture and stock-breeding are both in a very undeveloped state and the methods employed differ widely from those of Holland. The wide variety of soils and the genial climate of the Colony make possible the cultivation of many varieties of fruit and vegetables. In the warm fruitful valleys on the northern side of the mountains the vegetation has an Indian character, while on the colder soils

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European products thrive. Everywhere the natural vegetation is of the most luxuriant and diversified character.

In discussing the agricultural and pastoral industries of the Colony, I will first treat of the culture of the vine, since Cape wines are so widely renowned. Vineyards are usually laid out in July (i.e. in winter). After the ground has been previously dug over to a depth of three feet and cleared of all weeds and stones, the vine-shoots are buried in bundles of a hundred and left underground till early October when they have begun to sprout. The shoots, cut to lengths of twelve or eighteen inches, are then planted in rows, running usually from the south-east to the north-west. The vineyards are only given manure every second year. Manuring usually produces many insects and much quick grass. Both are difficult to exterminate. The vines are pruned in June while the grapes are finally gathered and pressed in March. There have been instances of vines bearing in the year of planting, while very old vines have been known to produce considerable quantities of excellent wine. With the exception of the Constantia wines, the Cape wines are named after the types of vine producing them: steen, muscadel, hanepoot, etc.

Next I will turn to the production of cereals, amongst which wheat is the most important. The ground is only ploughed once - after both the manure, which is applied in the ratio of forty waggon loads to the morgen, and the seed have been scattered on top of the stubble, when they are ploughed in together. Before this the fields have usually been burned off in November or December. Manuring is done in April. The ploughs, usually drawn by ten to sixteen oxen or horses, are of the rudest description, both as regards the wooden framework and the triangular iron coulter. Barley (apart from early and late barley) and oats are sown during April or May; wheat and rye a month later. Sowing is done from a bag or bed-sheet, the seeds being ploughed under to a depth of two hand-breadths. The two sets of cereals are respectively harvested in November and December, wheat yielding from ten to twentyfold. Threshing must be completed by April, failing which it must be left to the following season. The threshing is very roughly done, being performed by 40 to 50 horses driven round and round on layers of 1,500 to 2,000 sheaves in a circular walled enclosure with a hard sur-

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face. The corn, which is brown and hard, being merely winnowed, is very dirty. The trampled chaff is thrown away and not used for manure, the farmers asserting that the grains left in the chaff would cause a mixture of seeds on the lands. For the same reason horse manure is not used on the grainlands. Sheep manure is considered the best. On very fertile or newly-cleared lands wheat or oats are usually sown, the latter cereal often being raised on the same lands for three or four successive years. Rye is the least grown of the cereals, often being produced merely for the sake of the straw, which is used for thatching purposes. It is also used for stock feed and in place of coffee beans. Beans and peas are also extensively grown. On lands on which these have been grown the farmers have much trouble with quick-grass, which is a singularly tenacious weed. Great damage is also done to crops by warm winds from the south-east by day, as well as by honey-dew, locusts and caterpillars.

Potatoes do fairly well here, being planted out in July. Besides many kinds of vegetables and fruit (lists given), very many flowers are cultivated here.

Firewood and indigenous timber is scarce. Formerly much teak was imported from Batavia. For covering roofs thatch is usually employed, and for tanning the ‘taaibosch’.

As to pastoral farming, the breeding of the long-legged, round-backed, fat-tailed Cape sheep cannot be a very remunerative business. Its flesh, though very palatable, is low-priced, while its short, coarse hair is worthless as wool and is accordingly never shorn. Sheepskins, however, are extensively used as blankets. A full grown sheep weighing thirty to forty pounds, does not fetch more than three to four rix-dollars. The broad tails of these sheep have on occasion yielded as much as ten to fifteen pounds of fat. The Cape sheep lamb throughout the year, though May-June is the most favoured lambing season (pairing taking place in January), those subsequently born often dying in large numbers as a result of the shortage of grass during the dry season. The setting season of poultry is in August. May is also the principal calving time. For cows imported from Holland as much as seven or eight hundred rix-dollars are paid. The cows yield less milk here than in Holland, but of a richer quality. Yet the butter produced is poor, by reason, I think, of incorrect churning methods. The cattle remain in the

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veld during both summer and winter, often, in the rainy season, spending days in the open, slushy kraals, exposed to the cold and wet. The price of horses ranges from twenty to fifty rix-dollars, though as much as ten thousand rixdollars have been paid for some magnificent specimens of horse-flesh. For the horse is an article of fashion out here, and every European, from the large landowner down to the meanest artisan in the village, owns one. Such horses as are left unstabled carry a white stick underneath their necks to frighten away the wolves at night - an expedient which has not always proved successful.

Farms are of four types: freehold, perpetual quitrent, loan and government farms. The value of a farm is determined partly by the quality of its soil, partly by the value of its products, and partly by its situation with respect to the nearest market, for the difficulty and expense of transportation renders cultivation in many parts unremunerative. The soils throughout the extent of the Colony vary greatly in type and quality. Von Bouchenroeder distinguished ten varieties: warm, sweet lands - excellent for purposes both of pasture and cultivation; warm dry lands - consisting of sandy or alkaline soils, lacking in water for much of the year and suitable for stock only in winter; valley lands - best for the cultivation of clover, lucerne and similar herbs, and providing fine grazing for milch cows; broken lands - producing sour grasses which afford excellent sustenance for all kinds of stock; cold, sour, marshy lands - usually situated at the base of lofty mountains receiving much rain and snow, and practically useless for cattle or cultivation unless well drained; cold, sour, dry lands - constituting usually the ridges of mountains and mostly of a stony or clayey character, largely useless except for cattle in parts where the soil is mixed with sand or clay; bush or sheep lands - areas with a dense covering of bush and brushwood, supporting large flocks of sheep and goats; timber grounds - found against the slopes of mountains, scarce, with trees like stink- and ironwood, fit for building purposes; karrooveld - red, arid plateaux, having the appearance of completely desolate wastes after long periods of drought, but upon which the most luxuriant vegetation and flowers spring up after good rains, providing unexcelled pasture for sheep; stony soils - sterile grounds producing no more than a sparse covering of grass, poorest of all the soils.

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The population being small, the farms are large, generally measuring three thousand morgen and for a long period of years obtainable practically by request. In this way the owners have in time, with the rise in the prices of agricultural products and the concomitant increase in the value of the property, acquired considerable wealth. Wealth invariably breeds laziness and carelessness, which explains the owners' lack of industry, as well as the lack of economy and discretion which characterizes their farming operations. On the eastern frontier there are farmers who possess two or three farms on which they have thirty thousand or more sheep, and who annually receive forty to fifty thousand rix-dollars from the Cape Town butchers. Sir John Truter's wife owns a farm along the Kleine River, equal in size to four standard farms, which she runs entirely on her own. This farm maintains 150 horses, 500 head of cattle, 200 pigs, 600 goats and 12,000 sheep, and fifty slaves are engaged upon it; yet its cereal crop amounted to only 1,100 muids last season.

The dress of the common run of farmers consists of a brown or gray duffel jacket, long linen or sheepskin trousers, a white felt hat, and ‘veldskoens’ of goat hide. The generality of these farmers are great, heavily-built, powerful men; those from across the mountains, especially, having the appearance of great strength and robust health. The rising generation promises to be particularly imposing specimens of manhood when they shall have attained their full stature. There is much danger, however, of their mental development and their training in social duties not being in the same proportion. At present, I fear, they are more given to hunting, racing and visiting than to attending to their vocations, and these amusements appear to occupy their thoughts to the exclusion of all useful sciences. Even on the subject of agriculture itself they were able to afford me no satisfactory information.

The farmers generally have large families and this, I believe, will in time prove the remedy for existing evils, as the extension of the colonial limits is not keeping pace with the increase of the population. The sub-division of farms and estates will ultimately necessitate greater exertions on the part of farmers, the practise of more stringent economy, and the more intensive cultivation of the soil. Such a condition of things, however, is bound to produce a greater degree

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of happiness and contentment than obtains at present. At the moment both farmers and townsmen possess more slaves than they can usefully employ. Some persons, merely as befitting their rank or status, keep from fifty to a hundred slaves. Such people are considered very wealthy, the average value of a slave being 2,000 rix-dollars. But to me this seems merely a paper value. Inevitably, in the course of time, a different order of things will arise which will allocate to these slaves a more useful function in the life of the community.

Finally I must say something on the subject of trade, finance and shipping. The import trade constitutes the major part of the commerce of the Colony, the annual value of imports, which include European manufactures and foodstuffs and various commodities from the Indies, being still considerably in excess of the value of colonial produce exported. (Figures given.) Partly as a result of this and partly as a result of the depreciation of the paper rix-dollar, the exchange rate has during the past twenty years risen from twenty to two hundred per cent. The paper currency is in a wretched condition, most of the notes being in pieces which have been sewn or pinned together. First issued during the years 1782-4 at a value of approximately 4/3, most of the notes were subsequently cancelled, but during the last years of the Company's rule and under each of the succeeding administrations renewed issues have been made, with the result that there is at present three million rix-dollars worth of paper money in circulation. The British Government has now fixed the value of the rix-dollar at 1/6 in British silver, by which arrangement, with a drop in other values, the inhabitants of the Colony stand to lose forty million rix-dollars. This measure has naturally created consternation among the capitalists as well as the general population, causing heavy losses all round. To me it appears dishonourable, though a measure of this kind may have been necessary.

Colonial shipping consists only of that engaged in the coastal trade. Vessels for the purpose are built in the shipyards of Messrs. Aken and Monteath in Table Bay of indigenous oak and yellow-wood, both growing in the north-eastern part of the Colony. These ships ply along the west coast as far as Saldanha Bay and eastwards as far as Algoa Bay, trading European articles of import against Colonial produce. At Salt River a Royal Observatory is about to be erected by the British Admiralty.

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I must also relate to you a dangerous rebellion which occurred from 1815-1816 in the eastern districts of the Colony among certain farmers who planned to overthrow the British Government and tried to gain the help of the Kaffirs for this purpose. The original causes are unknown to me, but the movement gained ground when a certain Frederik Bezuidenhout was shot on the occasion of his arrest. His relatives and friends formed a commando and advanced against a military post, but were easily suppressed and arrested. After their trial at Uitenhage six ringleaders were hanged and others sentenced to various sentences. None the less a Kaffir War occurred from 1818-1819, ending in a treaty between the Kaffir Chief, Gaika, and the English.

Before closing I must recount a trip I made, in company with a young acquaintance from Amsterdam, to Groot Constantia, situated three hours' ride to the south-east of the town. We left at dawn in a cart drawn by four horses, and after passing Rondebosch and Wynberg - the latter a hamlet of widely scattered, modest houses - reached the pillared gateway on which the name Groot Constantia is engraved. Approaching along a beautiful avenue of oaks, we passed the splendid stables and slave quarters, located to the right of the drive, and finally came to the homestead, picturesquely situated amidst huge shadowing oaks at the end of the avenue. Immediately in front of it is a large, shady square. Entering the house my eye immediately fell on the stalagmite pyramid previously mentioned, placed in the south-western corner of the hall. It bears much resemblance to a candlestick in which a candle is fitted, being about seven feet in height. From the entrance hall we passed into a large hall to the right, the walls of which are hung with ten huge mirrors.

We viewed the large and well-kept garden which was planted with fruit trees of many varieties as well as flowers and shrubs. To the rear of the house is situated the beautiful cellar, the gable of which, adorned with many finely sculptured but indecent figures, bears the date 1791. At the southern end of the cellar is a billiard room, the walls of which are hung with four ancient maps and some old portraits. Being in the cellar we naturally had to sample the wines. Five varieties of Constantia wine are produced - Red and White Constantia, Frontignac (colour of Madeira wine), Steen and Pontac, of which I gave preference to the Red Constantia. The owner,

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Mr. Jacob P. Cloete, stated that in favourable seasons the annual yield was about fifty leaguers, which sometimes dropped to ten or fifteen leaguers in bad seasons. At the adjoining farm of Klein Constantia about the same quantity is produced, and their combined average yield can be placed at about fifty to sixty leaguers, of which probably no more than thirty leaguers are exported annually, seven and a half leaguers also going to the English Government as a fixed due. Yet in Europe ten times the quantity of wine mentioned is annually sold as Constantia wine!

From Groot Constantia we drove to Klein Constantia which had also formed part of the original estate of van der Stel. The present owner is the widow of Klaas Colyn, to whose wealth the magnificently furnished hall into which we were shown on arrival bore striking witness. We were pleasantly entertained here by a brass band of sixteen slaves belonging to the widow who were provided with all the required orchestral instruments and gave a fine rendering of a military piece.

Though pressed to stay to dinner by the hospitable lady and her daughters, we resumed our journey, touching further along at the farms Buiten Verwachting, owned by Ryk Cloete, and Bergvliet, the farm of Hendrik Eksteen. The latter farm, which was originally the larger of the three sections into which van der Stel's farm was divided, by reason of the soil being more suited for stock- than wine-farming, now only measures 530 morgen. It is well kept, however, and the homestead with the stables and slave quarters form an imposing spectacle. On the return journey we passed by Newlands, the residency of the Governor, having a delightful view of the eastern slope of Devil's Mountain, on which the pale blue of silver trees contrasted beautifully with the dark green mass of the pines. The road along this route carries fairly heavy traffic, is well surfaced, and is shaded by a double row of giant oaks.

I am now on board the ship which is to carry me away from the Cape. After having with much labour obtained the necessary permit for leaving the Colony, owing to an excess of red tape, I drove round in van Oosterzee's carriage to bid farewell to the many friends I had made during my stay. Finally, van Oosterzee himself conducted me to the jetty, accompanying me on board the sloop, where I pressed

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the hand that had saved me, for the last time. I have spent some sixteen or seventeen weeks at the Cape, which, though punctuated with periods of acute pain, have been very pleasant, and I will ever remain grateful to these kind and generous burghers of the Cape for the friendship and hospitality they have shown me. Had the Colony still been under Dutch rule I would gladly have passed the rest of my days among these good people, in this natural paradise with its glorious climate and its abundance of fruit, corn, venison and fish, of health-giving herbs and delicious water,¹ of beautiful flowers and birds.

1 Teenstra refers specifically to Table Mountain water, which he finds unexcelled in purity and taste. He mentions the fact that it had been laid on in pipes through the whole town and that the pipes were even then being extended to Green Point.