I have got a reebok and a klipspringer skin for you; the
latter makes a saddle-cloth which defies sore backs; they were
given me by Klein and a farmer at Palmiet River. The flesh was
poor stuff, white and papery. The Hottentots can't 'bray' the
skins as the Caffres do; and the woman who did mine asked me for a
trifle beforehand, and got so drunk that she let them dry halfway
in the process, consequently they don't look so well.
Worcester, Sunday, March 2d.
Oh, such a journey! Such country! Pearly mountains and deep blue
sky, and an impassable pass to walk down, and baboons, and
secretary birds, and tortoises! I couldn't sleep for it all last
night, tired as I was with the unutterably bad road, or track
rather.
Well, we left Caledon on Friday, at ten o'clock, and though the
weather had been cold and unpleasant for two days, I had a lovely
morning, and away we went to Villiersdorp (pronounced Filjeesdorp).
It is quite a tiny village, in a sort of Rasselas-looking valley.
We were four hours on the road, winding along the side of a
mountain ridge, which we finally crossed, with a splendid view of
the sea at the far-distant end of a huge amphitheatre formed by two
ridges of mountains, and on the other side the descent into
Filjeesdorp.
