and Hopeful, after many perils of the way, came to the
Delectable Mountains, from which they had a prospect of
Canaan. After many dusty miles by rail, and a weariful
journey in a Cape-cart through arid plains and dry and stony
gorges, I had come suddenly into a haven of green. The Spring
of the Blue Wildebeeste was a clear rushing mountain torrent,
which swirled over blue rocks into deep fern-fringed pools. All
around was a tableland of lush grass with marigolds and arum
lilies instead of daisies and buttercups. Thickets of tall trees
dotted the hill slopes and patched the meadows as if some
landscape-gardener had been at work on them. Beyond, the glen
fell steeply to the plains, which ran out in a faint haze to the
horizon. To north and south I marked the sweep of the Berg, now
rising high to a rocky peak and now stretching in a level rampart
of blue. On the very edge of the plateau where the road dipped
for the descent stood the shanties of Blaauwildebeestefontein.
The fresh hill air had exhilarated my mind,
and the aromatic scent of the evening gave the last touch of
intoxication. Whatever serpent might lurk in it, it was a
veritable Eden I had come to.

Blaauwildebeestefontein had no more than two buildings of
civilized shape; the store, which stood on the left side of the
river, and the schoolhouse opposite. For the rest, there were
some twenty native huts, higher up the slope, of the type
which the Dutch call rondavels. The schoolhouse had a pretty
garden, but the store stood bare in a patch of dust with a few
outhouses and sheds beside it. Round the door lay a few old
ploughs and empty barrels, and beneath a solitary blue gum
was a wooden bench with a rough table. Native children played