A DRY COUNTRY. 
193 
beef, as she was, as I thought, in prime order. The 
Kaffirs take the paunch, and after being well scraped, 
cleaned, and greased of course, they wear it as a 
handkerchief round their heads. 
23 rd .— Ascended a high mountain this morning, 
and had a capital view of the surrounding country— 
one immense wooded flat as far as the eye can dis¬ 
cern in every direction, with mountains thinly inter¬ 
spersed all over, just like so many artificial grottoes 
on a gentleman’s pleasure-ground. They are round 
stony hills for the most part, wooded to the summit, 
and of every conceivable shape and size, decidedly 
pretty; but there is no water, and the country bears 
such a parched appearance the very sight makes your 
tongue cleave to the roof of your mouth. We had 
been looking forward for several days to the delight¬ 
ful baths we should have on reaching the Sassy, but 
we found it completely dried up, and had to get 
spades to work to dig a large hole in the sand in the 
middle of the bed of the river, when (as is always 
the case) cool water immediately rose, but only in 
small quantities, barely enough for oxen and horses. 
We are now only, I am told, two days from Mosi- 
likatse’s kraals; and I hear from the Kaffirs that 
the Rev. Robert Moffat, from Kuruman, is there—a 
clever, intelligent man, and better acquainted with 
the Kaffirs than any man in Africa. The sun here 
is most oppressive, and there is frequently no air 
stirring at night; but we have no mosquitoes. 
The Maccateese have almost frightened my two 
o 
