shame them by calling them mean fellows, we were of course obliged to give them money.

Such rascals might turn up anywhere,—in any town in England much more probably than in South Africa. But their condition as we saw them, and the excuse which they made for their condition, were typical of the state of labour in South Africa generally. The men, if worth anything, could earn more than 2s. 6d. a day,—as no doubt those other men could have done of whom I spoke some chapters back;-but an Englishman in South Africa will not work along side of a coloured man on equal terms with the coloured man. The English labourer who comes to South Africa either rises to more than the labouring condition, or sinks to something below it. And he will not be content simply to supply his daily wants. He at once becomes filled with the idea that as a Colonist he should make his fortune. If he be a good man,

-industrious, able to abstain from drink and with something above ordinary intelligence-he does make some. fortune, more or less adequate. At any rate he rises in the world. But if he have not those gifts,-then he falls, as had done those two ugly reprobates.

On our way from Montague to Swellendam, where was to be our next short sojourn, our Cape cart broke down. The axle gave way, and we were left upon the road; or should have been left, some fifteen miles from Montague in one direction and the same distance from Swellendam in the other, had not the accident happened. within sight of a farm house. As farm houses occur about once in every six or seven miles, this was a blessing; and was felt so very strongly when a young Dutch farmer came at once to our rescue with another cart. might as well take it," he said with a smile when we offered him half a sovereign, "but you'd have had the

"I

cart all the same without it." This was certainly true as we were already taking our seats when the money was produced. I am bound to say that I was never refused anything which I asked of a Dutchman in South Africa. I must remark also that often as I broke down on my travels,—and I did break down very often and sometimes in circumstances that were by no means promising,— there always came a Deus ex machina for my immediate relief. A generous Dutchman would lend me a horse or a cart;—or a needy Englishman would appear with an animal to sell when the getting of a horse under any circumstances had begun to appear impossible. On one occasion a jibbing brute fell as he was endeavouring to kick everything to pieces, and nearly cut his leg in two; -but a kindhearted colonist appeared immediately on the scene, with a very pretty girl in his cart, and took me on to my destination. And yet one often travels hour after hour, throughout the whole day, without meeting a fellow traveller.

Swellendam is such another village as The Paarl, equally enticing, equally full of oaks, though not equally long. From end to end it is but three miles, while The Paarl measures eight. But the mountains at Swellendam are finer than the mountains at The Paarl, and with the exception of those immediately over George, are the loveliest which I saw in the Colony. Swellendam is close under the Langeberg range,-so near that the kloofs or wild ravines in the mountains can be reached by an easy walk. They are very wild and picturesque, being thickly wooded, but so deep that from a little distance the wood can hardly be seen. Here at the foot of the hills were exquisite sites for country houses,--to be built, perhaps, by the future coloured millionaires of South Africa,--with grand opportunities for semi-tropical gardens, if only the

water from the mountains could be used. Oranges, grapes, and bananas grow with the greatest profusion wherever water has been "led on." And yet it seems that the district is the very country for oaks. I had found more oaks during this last little tour through a portion of the Western Province of the Cape Colony than I have ever seen during the same time in England.

My kind host at Swellendam told me that it was imperative to go to the Tradouw, or Southey's Pass through the mountains. The Tradouw is the old Dutch name for the ravine which was used for a pass before the present road was made. An energetic traveller will do as he is bid, especially when he is in the hands of an energetic host. The traveller wishes to see whatever is to be seen but has to be told what he should see. To such commands I have generally been obedient. He is too often told also what he should believe. Against this I have always rebelled;-mutely if possible, but sometimes, under coercion, with outspoken vehemence. "If it be true," I have had to say, "that I mean to write a book, I shall write my book and not yours." But as to the seeing of sights absolute obedience is the best. Therefore I allowed my host to take me to the Tradouw, though my bones were all bruised and nearly dislocated with Cape cart travelling and the sweet idea of a day of rest under the Swellendam oaks had taken strong hold of my imagination. I was amply repaid for my compli

ance.

On our way to the Tradouw we passed through a long straggling village inhabited exclusively by coloured. people, and called the Caledon Missionary Institution. It had also some native name which I heard but failed to note. It was under the charge of a Dutch pastor upon whom we called and from whom I learned something of

the present condition of the location. I will say, however, before I describe the Institution, that it is already doomed and its days numbered. That this should be its fate was not at all marvellous to me. That it should have been allowed to live so long was more surprising.

The place is inhabited by and belongs to persons of colour to whom it was originally granted as a "location" in which they might live. The idea of course has been that as the Colonists made the lands of the Colony their own, driving back the Hottentots without scruple, exercising the masterdom of white men for the spoliation of the natives, something should be secured to the inferior race, the giving of which might be a balm to the conscience of the invader and at the same time the means of introducing Christianity among the invaded. Nothing can be better than the idea,—which has been that on which the South African missionaries have always worked. Nor will I in this place assail the wisdom of the undertaking at the time at which it was set on foot. Whether anything better could then have been done may, perhaps, be doubted. I venture only to express an opinion that in the present condition of our South African Colonies all such Institutions are a mistake. As the Caledon Institution is about to be brought to an end, I may say this with the less chance of giving offence.

The last census taken of the population of the village gave its numbers as 3,000. I was told that at present there might be perhaps 2,000 coloured persons living there. I should have thought that to be a very exaggerated number, judging from the size of the place and the number of ruined and deserted huts, were it not that the statement was made to me in a tone of depreciation rather than of boasting. "They call it three thousand," said the pastor, "but there are not more than

two." Looking at the people as I passed through the village I should be inclined to describe them as Hottentots, were it not for the common assertion that the Hottentot race is extinct in these parts. The Institution was originally intended for Hottentots, and the descendants of Hottentots are now its most numerous inhabitants. That other blood has been mixed with the Hottentot blood, that of the negroes who were brought to the Cape as slaves and of the white men who were the owners of the slaves,—is true here as elsewhere. There is a church for the use of these people,—and a school. Without these a missionary institution would be altogether vain; though, as I have stated some pages back, the school belonging to the Institution at Pacaltsdorp had gone into abeyance when I visited that place. Here the school was still maintained; but I learned that the maximum number of pupils never exceeded a hundred. Considering the amount of the population and the fact that the children are not often required to be absent on the score of work, I think I am justified in saying that the school is a failure. M. Esselin in his schools at Worcester, which is a town of 4,000 inhabitants of whom a large proportion are white, has an average attendance of 500 coloured children. The attendance at the missionary church is no better, the number of customary worshippers being the same as that of the scholars,namely a hundred. With these people there is nothing to compel them to send their children to school, and nothing but the eloquence of the pastor to induce them to go to church. The same may be said as to all other churches and all other congregations. But we are able to judge of the utility of a church by the force of example which it creates. Among these people the very fashion of going to church is dying out.