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Seven Years in South Africa.

parallel to the Free State shore, which, as far as Hebron, is higher than the opposite bank, and studded over with numerous farms. Rather more than eighteen miles from Christiana we came again upon the river, near a canteen where the goings-on seemed more than sufficiently wild and lawless. Here the road divided, one branch leading down the river to Hebron, the other crossing the stream by a passage known as the Blignaut’s Pont, being the shortest and consequently most frequented route between the diamond-fields and the Transvaal. Wanting to explore the Hebron hills, as well as the deserted river-diggings adjacent to them, I chose the longer road, aware beforehand that it was also the rougher. Between Blignaut’s Pont and Delportshope, near the confluence of the two rivers, there are, both in the main valley and in the valleys running into it, several insignificant villages and detached farmsteads, occupied by Korannas, who are English subjects; the men were to be seen everywhere, either lounging about in tattered European clothes, or sauntering with their dogs among the bushes, while their half-naked children were looking after the meagre herds.

Passing the canteen, we found the country beyond it rather more interesting, as we ever did when we approached the Vaal, where a practised eye will rarely fail to find plenty of sport, and a naturalist is sure to feel himself in an ample field for his studies. At the foot of the hills we came to a building, half hotel, half store, built partly of bricks and partly of