One day, Herr Michaelis invited me to accompany him and another friend to the high table-land on a bee-hunt. It was an excursion that would occupy about half a day, and I was most delighted to avail myself of the offer. We started up the hill in a covered, two-wheeled vehicle, and turned eastward across the plain that extends in a north-easterly direction. The plateau was clothed with short grass, and studded with thousands of reddish-brown ant-hills, chiefly conical in form and measuring about three feet in diameter, and something under three feet in height. Those that were still occupied had their surface smooth, the deserted ones appearing rough and perforated. An ant-hill is always forsaken when its queen dies, and our search was directed towards any that we could find thus abandoned, in the hope of securing its supply of honey. In the interior of Africa a honey-bird is used as a guide to the wild bees’ nests; but in our case, we employed a half-naked Fingo, wearing a red woollen cap, who ran by the side of our carriage, and kept a sharp look-out. It was not long before a gesture from him brought us to a standstill. He had made his discovery; he had seen bees flying in and out of a hill, and now was our chance. We lost no time in fastening up our conveyance, lighted a fire as rapidly as we could, and in a very few minutes the bees were all suffocated in the smoke. The ant-hill itself was next cleared away, and in the lower cells were found several combs, lying parallel to each other, and filled partly with fragrant honey, and partly with the young larvæ. I could not resist making a sketch of the structure. The removal of the earth brought to light two more snakes, which were added to my rapidly increasing collection.
With these and similar excursions, four weeks at Port Elizabeth passed pleasantly away. The time came when I must prepare to start for the interior. Tempting as was the offer that had been made to me to remain where I was, there were yet stronger inducements for me to proceed. Not only had a merchant in Fauresmith, in the Orange Free State, held out hopes of my securing a still more lucrative practice, but Fauresmith itself was more than sixty miles further to the north, and thus of immense advantage as a residence for one who, like myself, was eager to obtain all possible information about the interior of the country.
Besides advancing me the expenses of my journey, Herr Hermann Michaelis himself offered to accompany me to Fauresmith.
I need hardly say with how much regret I left Port Elizabeth, and all the friends who, during my visit, had treated me with such courtesy and consideration.
CHAPTER II.
JOURNEY TO THE DIAMOND-FIELDS.
It was in the beginning of August that I started on my journey from Port Elizabeth to Fauresmith, viâ Grahamstown, Cradock, Colesberg, and Philippolis. My vehicle was a two-wheeled cart, drawn by four small horses, and the distance of eighty-six miles to Grahamstown was accomplished in eleven hours.
The beauty of the scenery and of the vegetation made the drive very attractive. The railway that now runs to Grahamstown also passes through charming country; but, on the whole, I give my preference to the district which was originally traversed by road. For the greater part of the way the route lies beneath the brow of the Zuur Mountains, which, with their wooded clefts and valleys, and their pools enclosed by sloping pastures, must afford unfailing interest both to the artist and to the lover of nature.
Occasionally the trees stand in dense clumps, quite detached, a form of vegetation which is very characteristic of wide districts in the interior of the continent; but by far the larger portion of this region is covered by an impenetrable bush-forest, consisting partly of shrubby undergrowth, and partly of dwarf trees. Many of these appear to be of immense age, but many others seem to have been attacked by insects, and have so become liable to premature decay.
Every now and then our road led past slopes, where the stems of the trees were covered all over with lichen, which gave them a most peculiar aspect, and it was a pleasant reminiscence of the woods of the north to see a beard-lichen (Usnea) with its thick grey-green tufts a foot long decorating the forked boughs as with a drapery of hoar-frost. In other places, the eye rested on declivities covered for miles with dwarf bushes, of which the most striking were the various species of red-flowering aloes, and the different euphorbias, some large as trees, some low, like shrubs, and others mere weeds, but altogether affording a spectacle at which the heart of a botanist could not but rejoice.
Numerous varieties, too, of solanum (nightshade) laden with yellow, white, blue, or violet blossoms, climb in and around the trees, and in some parts unite the stems with wreaths that intertwine so as to form almost an impenetrable thicket, where the grasses, the bindweeds, the heaths, and the ranunculuses in the very multiplicity of their form and colour fill the beholder with surprise and admiration. Like a kaleidoscope, the vegetation changes with every variation of scenery; and each bare or grassy flat, each grove or tract of bushwood, each swamp or pool, each slope or plain has ever its own rare examples of liliaceæ, papilionaceæ, and mimosæ to exhibit.