now occupied by Cape Town. When this new passage to India was ascertained the trade passed almost entirely in that direction. In 1620 two English ships took formal possession of Saldanha Bay; but of the cape of Good Hope no use was made till 1650, when Van Riebeck, a Dutch surgeon, convinced of the utility of a settlement in a situation which would afford convenient refreshments to ships passing between Europe and the East Indies, planted a colony here. The event showed that Riebeck's views had been just. The utility of the settlement was immediately felt, and it daily increased in magnitude and importance; but the Hottentots gradually receded with their flocks and herds from the vicinity of TableBay, towards the N. and N.E. In 1774 the whole race of those unfortunate natives, who yet lingered on the frontiers, and had not submitted to servitude, was ordered to be seized or extirpated by the Dutch government; and a series of commandoes, or military parties, were sent against them, who perpetrated the most wanton atrocities on the poor Bosjesmen. The Namaqua Hottentots, formerly inhabiting the Nieuweveld, the Bokkeveld, and the Roggeveld, worn out by the repeated aggressions of the colonists, retired into the immense deserts stretching from the Kamiesberg to the bay of Angra Pequina on the S.W. coast of Africa; while on the E. the Caffres and colonists constantly came into hostile collision. The Dutch retained possession of this territory till 1795, when a British squadron, under general Clarke and admiral Keith Elphinstone, took possession of it without resistance. It was restored at the peace of Amiens; but Holland being dragged into the war which speedily ensued between France and Britain, an expedition was again fitted out, under general Baird and commodore Sir Home Popham, for the purpose of reducing this important settlement. The British forces arrived in Table Bay on the 4th of January, 1806,—a landing was effected on the 6th,—and after a sharp action on the 8th, in which the Dutch were completely defeated, the British advanced to Cape Town, which immediately capitulated. The surrender of the whole colony followed; and, by the pacification of 1814, this valuable possession was fully ceded to Great Britain.

Face of the Country, Mountains.] The outlines of this country towards the sea are formed by a few prominent points, separated by large sweeps of the ocean. The leading feature in the aspect of the Cape territory consists in three successive ranges of mountains, running parallel to each other and to the southern coast of Africa. The first range, which, at least in a great part of its line, is called the Lange Kloof, or Long Pass,' runs parallel to the coast, at a distance of from 20 to 60 miles, widening towards the west. The second range, called Zwarte Berg, or 'Black mountain,' is considerably higher and more rugged than the first, and consists often of double or even triple ranges. The belt interposed between the Zwarte Berg and the Lange Kloof is nearly of the same average breadth as that between the latter and the sea, and it is of considerably greater elevation. Beyond the Zwarte Berg, at an interval of 80 or 100 miles, rises the Nieuweldt's Gebirge, or Snowy Mountains,' the highest range of Southern Africa, and the summits of which are generally covered with snow. They have not been accurately measured, but are not supposed in their greatest height to fall short of 10,000 feet. The belt or plain interposed between these two last chains is considerably more elevated than either of the two others, so that Southern Africa forms as it were a succession of terraces, rising above each other. The plain next the sea is covered with a deep and fertile soil, watered by numerous rivulets, well

clothed with grass, and with a beautiful variety of trees and shrubs. Rains are frequent; and from its vicinity to the sea, it enjoys a more mild and equable temperature than the interior and remoter parts of the colony. The second terrace contains a considerable portion of well-watered and fertile lands; interspersed with large tracts of the arid desert called karroo. The third belt, called the Great Karroo, is composed of a vast plain, 300 miles in length and nearly 100 in breadth-occupying, therefore, a space nearly equal to the whole surface of Ireland-the soil of which is of a hard and impenetrable texture, destitute almost of any trace of vegetation. The Karroos.] The plains of South Africa called karroos present a dreary listless uniformity of level surface, except where broken by a few straggling hills of schistus or slate, which rise, like little volcanic cones, out of a naked surface of clay, whose tinge is that of a dull ferruginous brown. All traces of animated nature are in the dry season obliterated from these dreary solitudes; and the withered remains of the fig-marigolds and other succulent plants, sparingly scattered over the surface, crackle under the feet, and seem, from the faint and feeble traces of vegetable life, to maintain a perpetual struggle for existence. If, however, some partial thunder-storm should burst upon this desert, the bulbs begin to sweil, and the leaves to push through the moistened clay,—the melilotos creeps along the surface, the ice-plant glistens in the sun,-and the hemanthus spreads with wonderful rapidity its broad leaves along the ground, as if to throw a protecting cover over the little moisture the earth had received, and to defend it from the sun. Nature is said to divide her favours; and for the elegance of colour and structure which she has lavished on the Cape Flora, she seems to have withheld that sweetness whose aroma fills the gardens of Europe. Lichtenstein crossed a narrow arm of this karroo, and as his description of it is among the happiest of his efforts we shall transcribe it in a note.1

Table Mountain.] The northern front of Table Mountain overlooks

1 "As soon as, in the cooler season, the rains begin to fall, and penetrate the hard coat of earth, these fibres (of roots) imbibe the moisture, and, pushing aside the clay, the germ of the plant, under their protection, begins to shoot. As by successive rains the soil gets more and more loosened, the plants at length appear above it, and in a few days the void waste is covered with a delicate green clothing. Not long after, thousands and thousands of flowers enamel the whole surface: the mild mid-day sun expands the radiated crowns of the mysembryanthemums and gortinia, and the young green of the plants is almost hidden by the glowing colours of their full-blown flowers, while the whole air is filled with the most fragrant odour. This odour is more particularly delightful when after a calm day, the sun declines, and the warm breath of the flowers rests quietly on the plain. At this time the whole dreary desert is transformed into one continued garden of flowers; the colonist, with his herds and his flocks, leaves the snowy mountains, and, descending into the plain, there finds a plentiful and wholesome supply of food for the animals, while troops of the tall ostrich and the wandering antelope, driven also from the heights, share the repast, and enliven the scene. But how soon is the country again deprived of all its glory, it scarcely continues more than a month, unless late rains, which must not often be expected, call forth the plants again into new life. As the days begin to lengthen, the revived power of the mid-day sun checks once more the lately-awakened powers of vegetation. The flowers soon fade and fall, the stems and leaves dry away, and the hard coat of earth locks up the germs till the time arrives for the return of the rains; the succulent plants alone still furnish food for the herds and flocks. Soon the streams begin to dry, the springs scarcely flow, till at length the complete drought compels the colonists to seek again their more elevated homes, yet even then they quit the plain with reluctance, and the flocks, accustomed to endure thirst, still linger behind, feeding on the succulent plants which afford at once food and drink, and are particularly salutary to those that bear the wool. Every day, however, the karroo grows more and more solitary, and by the end of September it is wholly deserted. The hardened clay bursts into a thousand cracks, which evince to the traveller the vast power of the African sun. Every trace of verdure is vanished, and the hard red soil is covered over with a brown dust, formed from the ashes of the dried and withered plants."

Cape Town, and rises almost perpendicularly, like the ruins of some gigantic fortress, till it terminates in a line, nearly horizontal, and of about two miles in extent, the highest point of which is about 3,585 feet above Table Bay. The W. side of this stupendous mass of rock, extending along the seashore, is rent into hollows, and worn away into pyramidal masses. The two wings of the front, namely the Devil's Hill, and the Lion's Head, make with the Table but one mountain; for though the summits have been separated, they are united to a considerable elevation above the plain. The Devil's Hill, the height of which is 3,315 feet, is broken into irregular points; but the upper part of the Lion's Head, 2,160 feet in elevation, resembles a dome placed on a high conical hill. To the southward Table Mountain descends in terraces, of which the lowest communicates with the chain that extends the whole length of the peninsula. The ascent of the mountain is very steep and difficult, on account of the loose stones which roll away under the feet of the traveller. Its summit is nearly level, and very barren and bare of soil; several cavities, however, are filled with water, or contain a small quantity of vegetable earth, from whence a few odoriferous plants, particularly the Anaa mucronata, an elegant frutescent plant peculiar to this habitat, draw their nourishment. Antelopes, baboons, solitary vultures, and toads, are sometimes to be met with on the mountain. The view from the summit is very extensive and picturesque. The bay seems a small pond or basin, and the ships in it are dwindled to little boats; the town under our feet, and the regular compartments of its gardens, look like the work of children; all is dwindled into mere specks and lines. The air on the summit, in winter, and in the shade, is generally about 15° lower than that of the town; but in summer the difference is still greater, particularly when the S.E. wind blows, and a fleecy cloud, called the Tablecloth,' appears on the mountain, and gives indication of an approaching This cloud is composed of immense masses of fleecy whiteness. It does not appear to be at rest on the hill, but to be constantly rolling onward from the S.E.; yet, to the surprise of the beholder, it never descends, because the snowy wreaths seen falling over the precipice towards the town below, vanish completely before they reach it, while others are formed to replace them on the other side.2

storm.

Rivers.] The colony is deficient in navigable rivers for vessels of any considerable burden. The two principal rivers on the western coast are the Berg or Mountain River,' and the Olifant or Elephants' River.' These streams are only navigable by small craft to the distance of about 20 miles up the country.-On the S. coast of the colony the Breede or 'Broad River' discharges itself into St Sebastian's Bay. Its mouth, now called Port Beaufort, allows vessels of 200 tons to enter, and discharge or load in safety. The Gauritz, the next great river on the coast, is a collection of waters from the Great Karroo and Black Mountains. In the rainy season it is a rapid and dangerous stream.-The Knysna is considered by Barrow to have been a lake which has opened itself a channel to the

2 "The reason of this phenomenon is, that the air constituting the wind from the S E. having passed over the vast southern ocean, comes charged with as much invisible moisture as its temperature can sustain. In rising up the side of the mountain it is rising in the atmosphere, and is therefore gradually escaping from a part of the former pressure; and on attaining the summit, it has dilated so much, and has consequently be come so much colder, that it lets go part of its moisture. This then appears as the cloud now described; but its substance no sooner falls over the edge of the mountain, and again descends in the atmosphere to where it is pressed, and condensed, and heated as before, than the water is redissolved and disappears: thus the magnificent apparition dwells only on the mountain-top."-Arnott.