once brought down to the lowest depth of vulgar pretension?

I enter not into the question of the comparative advantages of savage and civilized life, though there certainly are lonely feelings of a higher order raised amidst the deep solitudes of nature, than any that refinement produce.

can

LETTER VI.

Excursions. Sketches of the people.-Anecdotes from the Missionaries. Line of route.-Mountains. — Rivers. —Scenery of the Country.-Wild animals.-Birds -Herds of cattle.-A travelling party. Plan of a tour.-Incidents and adventures.-Pitch our tents.- Missionary establishment. - Kaffer Chiefs. Manners and anecdotes. Portraits.-School.-Language.-A dinner.-Kaffer hymn.-Use of the Missionaries.—Wild beasts.-Superstitions.— Singular rites. A story. - Customs. —Anecdotes. — Elephant hunting.

IN a former Letter, describing the natives that live on the eastern boundary of the Colony, I mentioned an excursion that I made with the Landdrost of Albany into Kafferland.

There are two opposite cases in which it is interesting to find the features of a country minutely described: when it is wholly unknown to us, for it then adds to our stock of geographical knowledge; and when it is well known, for we then trace again on the page the

route we once ourselves pursued, and as we read, recall a thousand minute circumstances; we pause in the account, and say, "We remember this," or, "We do not think the Author correct here ;" and should we have been methodical, and not rattle-brained tourists, refer to our journals to refute, or to confirm.

The country we crossed in our excursion, for travels would be far too ambitious a name, holds a middle place, a debateable ground, between the unknown and the known: it belongs not to the first, for others have described it; and yet they are so few, that it awakens not the companionable interest of the second.

My description will therefore be brief; and I shall confine myself principally to sketches of the people and of their customs, to observations that I made on the route, and to anecdotes that I heard from the Missionaries.

Our general route was easterly: on our right lay the coast, which we sometimes approached, and between the hills caught openings of forest scenery, terminated by the dim blue line of the sea; behind us was the colony, and to the north

the Buffalo Mountains, backed by the Koloco and Chumnie ranges. The principal rivers we crossed were the Great Fish River, the Keiskamma, the Chilumni, the Buffalo, the Namaqua, the Acoon, the Goonovi, the Gualaka, and the Kei; all flowing to the sea. The general character of these streams (with the exception of the last,) is the same; the banks, which are thickly covered with trees, are steep, but not high, while the water looks almost black from the effect of the branches that bend over it. The trees are various, and some strikingly beautiful; the rich foliage of the wild fig, the plum, and that of the gnarled and twisted elsewood, are contrasted with the cold grey green of the bending willow; there also are to be seen the assegai and iron-wood, with many others, while the water's edge is fringed with tall, light, feathery-blossomed reeds, and with the glossy palm-leaves of the Kaffer coffee.

The country, in approaching the rivers, becomes hilly, and is then thickly covered with flowering shrubs; but in proceeding, the rider crosses vast grassy plains, over which the

mimosa is thinly scattered; and is warned of his vicinity to another stream, by the ground being broken into smooth undulating hills, which become bolder and steeper until he reaches its banks.

After the summer heats, whole regions have one general red-scorched hue, that fatigues the eye; and when that ceases, it is but to give place to large tracts over which the flame has swept, leaving them black and cheerless. This is sometimes the effect of chance, frequently of design, as it is the only method of clearing away the withered grass, that affords no nourishment, but which, on being removed, is replaced by fresh herbage. A single shower changes the whole face of nature, and the grass springs up with a quickness that, to one accustomed to the tardiness of European vegetation, is like magic. At night, too, the effect of the wide-spreading fire on the mountain's side is singularly magnificent.

In travelling through remote parts of the Colony, one of the strongest sources of interest