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From Likatlong to Wonderfontein.
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of unbaked bricks, with a gabled roof covered with dry grass. At the time of my visit there was no missionary there, but the London Missionary Society, in whose district it lies, have since sent out one of their body.

Seen from the right bank of the river, the town, with its groups of farmsteads arranged symmetrically in rows, looked very neat. The streets, as the open spaces between the enclosures might be called, were full of life; women were hastening down to the water with great clay pitchers on their heads, or toiling along towards their homes breathless under loads of dried grass or brushwood; while children, all naked, were either tending the cattle in the pasture-land, or playing in swarms upon the river’s edge. To the activity and plodding industry of the women, the dolce far niente of the men offered a striking contrast; as a general rule, they were to be seen idly basking in the sun, like snakes recovering from the exertion of swallowing their last meal.

The jackets and stockings of many of the men were of European make, but some of them had garments of leather, imperfectly tanned; on their heads they had small hats, made of plaited grass or rushes. They were mostly of middle height, neither go tall as the Zulus, nor so powerfully built as the Fingos, their complexions striking me as remarkably clear and bright. Their features are spoilt by the excessive width of the nose—a disfigurement which is to be attributed very much to the use of an iron spoon