It Was A Lovely Place,
Intensely Hot, All Glowing With Sunshine.
Then the sun went down,
and the high mountains behind us were precisely the colour of a
Venice ruby glass - really, truly, and literally; - not purple, not
crimson, but glowing ruby-red - and the quince-hedges and orange-
trees below looked INTENSELY green, and the houses snow-white.
It
was a transfiguration - no less.
I saw Hottentots again, four of them, from some remote corner, so
the race is not quite extinct. These were youngish, two men and
two women, quite light yellow, not darker than Europeans, and with
little tiny black knots of wool scattered over their heads at
intervals. They are hideous in face, but exquisitely shaped - very,
very small though. One of the men was drunk, poor wretch, and
looked the picture of misery. You can see the fineness of their
senses by the way in which they dart their glances and prick their
ears. Every one agrees that, when tamed, they make the best of
servants - gentle, clever, and honest; but the penny-a-glass wine
they can't resist, unless when caught and tamed young. They work
in the fields, or did so as long as any were left; but even here, I
was told, it was a wonder to see them.
We went on through the Paarl, a sweet pretty place, reminding one
vaguely of Bonchurch, and still through fine mountains, with Scotch
firs growing like Italian stone pines, and farms, and vineyard upon
vineyard.
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