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Seven Years in South Africa.

Thousands of swallows had settled on the swampy spot where we crossed the spruit. The South African swallows are even more confiding and fearless of men than our own swifts; not only will they build in the passages of houses that have continual access to the air, but I have known them take up their abode in dwelling-rooms when these have happened to be left open for any length of time. Their nests are more elaborate than those of the European Hirundo, and are entered by a passage sometimes straight, but occasionally slightly curved, a foot or more in length, woven into the nest itself, the whole being affixed to a horizontal roof. Their number, too, as well as the number of the goat-sucker tribe (Caprimulgus), is greater than that of the European species, but their notes are neither so strong nor so agreeable.

We were now approaching the valley of the Mooi River, a perennial stream, bounded for some miles on either hand by chains of hills or by isolated eminences. As we turned from a grassy hollow, we saw Potchefstroom lying before us, looking, at first sight, smaller than it really is, the effect of its being built on a level in the form of a long parallelogram, in such a way that it is overshadowed by the trees that line its streets. It is one of the most important places in South Africa, and will probably retain its high rank, as it remains the chief trade-centre of the country, and is hardly likely to be ousted from its prominence, unless it should happen to be affected by the construction of the Delagoa and Middleburgh