It Was
Glorious, But More Like What One Had Seen In Pictures - A Deep,
Narrow Gorge, Almost Dark In Places,
And, to my mind, lacked the
BEAUTY of the yesterday's drive, though it is, perhaps, grander;
but the view which
Bursts on one at the top, and the descent,
winding down the open mountain-side, is too fine to describe.
Table Mountain, like a giant's stronghold, seen far distant, with
an immense plain, half fertile, half white sand; to the left,
Wagenmaker's Vley; and further on, the Paarl lying scattered on the
slope of a mountain topped with two DOMES, just the shape of the
cup which Lais (wasn't it?) presented to the temple of Venus,
moulded on her breast. The horses were tired, so we stopped at
Waggon-maker's Valley (or Wellington, as the English try to get it
called), and found ourselves in a true Flemish village, and under
the roof of a jolly Dutch hostess, who gave us divine coffee and
bread-and-butter, which seemed ambrosia after being deprived of
those luxuries for almost three months. Also new milk in
abundance, besides fruit of all kinds in vast heaps, and
pomegranates off the tree. I asked her to buy me a few to take in
the cart, and got a 'muid', the third of a sack, for a shilling,
with a bill, 'U bekomt 1 muid 28 granaeten dat Kostet 1s.' The old
lady would walk out with me and take me into the shops, to show the
'vrow uit Engelland' to her friends. 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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