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barrier in a few minutes about the ears of its defenders. The 
battery consists of four eighteen-pounders, pointed to the sea, 
and an equal number bearing on the defile. The works are 
constructed of loose round pebbles, picked up on the beach, 
surmounted by an earthen parapet, and the whole is so frail 
that a single shot would demolish it from top to bottom. 
** While describing the nature of this pass, I cannot help 
adverting to a volume of Travels which fell into my hands at 
the period in question. It is the production of a Mr, Perceyal, 
and was written at the time the colony was in possession of 
the British during the late war. This gentleman landed at 
Simonstown, and, having passed by Muysenberg on his way 
to Capetown, takes occasion to detail its natural productions 
in the following words: — 
** The eye now meets with a different prospect, and full 
scope is afforded for the Botanist to gratify his favourite pro- 
pensity. At the foot of the hills, which are close to your left 
hand, a great variety of African evergreen plants present 
themselves amongst a profusion of other shrubs and flowers. 
Those which attract the attention, chiefly, are the Red pepper 
tree, the Castor-oil shrub, the Silver-tree (Protea argentea), 
Myrtles, several feet high, Laurels, and Laurustinus in abun- 
dance, Arbutus, Jessamines, Geraniums, Sunflowers, Blood- 
flowers, Coffee plant, Napal or prickly Pear, Asparagus, Mul- 
berry, and many others peculiar to this spot of the world.’ 
* Had Mr. Perceval omitted this precious list of evergreens, 
and selected his catalogue from amongst the * many others’ 
to which he alludes, he might perhaps have saved his credit 
as a Botanist. But, as the matter stands, he appears merely to 
have opened the Gardeners’ Kalendar, and transcribed the 
first names he happened to cast his eyes on. To form a 
proper estimate of the fidelity of his enumeration, it is neces- 
sary only to mention, that the spot in question, whicb, 
according to his account, ought to be consecrated to Flora, is 
not only in a state of nature, but absolutely incapable of being 
improved by art. I may venture, indeed, to pronounce, that 
there is not, in all Southern Africa, barren as it is, a more 
barren or untoward spot than the Pass of Muysenberg. It 
