16 EXPEDITION INTO [Chap. III. 



induce him to transport our baggage beyond it. 

 The paltry little town of Somerset consists only of 

 about two dozen English houses, and stands in a 

 swamp at the western base of a mountainous range 

 called the Zuur-berg, being completely environed 

 on three sides by the Little Fish River, in attempt- 

 ing to cross which treacherous stream, my horse 

 was suddenly engulphed in a quicksand, and nearly 

 drowned before I could extricate him. 



My recollections of Somerset, a place through 

 which I have twice passed, are, I confess, far from 

 pleasing. After I had thrown off my wet garments, 

 we prosecuted our search for a vehicle, and literally 

 visited in succession every house in the village, 

 taking Jackson the Tinman first in order, to whom 

 we had brought a strong letter of introduction 

 from the crippled cobbler, but who, nevertheless, 

 received us with marked contumely, turning us 

 from his door with dirt upon our beards, as our 

 Persian friends in India would say. The pro- 

 prietors of no less than nine out of the twenty-four 

 mansions, were sur named Smith, an appellation by 

 no means less common in the Cape Colony than in 

 other parts of the British dominions. But although 

 all the Messrs. Smith had waggons, not one of 

 them could be induced to accede to our request. 

 One of the several John Smiths, a straight-haired 

 methodistical little man, was sitting down to dinner 

 with Mrs. Smith and the children, when we called 

 to pay our respects, and, bowing to the ground, 

 ventured to seat ourselves on a vacant sofa; but 



