WATERBURG.
I left Pretoria on July the 17th in a wagon with eight horses, accompanied by two friends, for an excursion into the Waterburg district of the Transvaal. On this occasion we travelled about one hundred and fifty miles north of Pretoria in the course of a fortnight, returning about the same distance back again. We had a half-breed servant named Sole with us, who made himself generally useful during our journey. All this time we camped out day and night, sleeping always in the open veldt, in true gipsy fashion.
We went by the Van der Vroom Poort, having the Maalieburg range of mountains on our left.
Our first night was spent at a farm called "Polonia," belonging to a Russian Missionary who has been for many years in the Transvaal. He unites the pursuits of spiritual instruction according to the tenets of the Greek Church, with farming on a large scale. On leaving "Polonia" we passed the large and picturesque German Mission Station of "Hebron," which is situated in the midst of a rich and fertile valley. One night we outspanned at a spot called the "Salt Pans." While breakfast was being prepared the next morning, I walked to see those wonderful "Salt Pans," which were close to our camping ground. I descended by a steep path some six hundred or seven hundred feet to the bottom. It is an immense amphitheatre at the base of thickly wooded hills. It is larger in extent than the vast open excavation formed by the "Kimberley" Mine at Kimberley. The salt and soda brine is perpetually oosing from the bottom, and is continually being scraped up with a sort of wooden scraper into heaps, where, after a time, by the action of the atmosphere, it becomes crystallised. I picked up and brought away with me several crystals of pure salt. This is another of the marvels of the Transvaal, a country which abounds in natural wealth of all kinds, fitted for the service of man. These Salt Pans are the property of the Transvaal Government, which derives a considerable income from the tax imposed for taking away the salt, and soda, from them.
Frequently during our journey we outspanned just outside the Kafir kraals, and often entered into them; one of my companions speaking the native, as well as the Dutch languages very fluently. We were always received by both Boers, and Kafirs, very kindly. Sometimes we were accompanied by a large number of Kafirs for days. I remember once, counting as many as forty Kafirs sitting round our camp fire, clothed and unclothed, and in every variety of costume, from the old British Artillery tunic to the equally ancient pea coat, the bright-coloured blue morning jacket, and the cloak of Jackall skins. On this occasion they remained all night with us, keeping up the fire and indulging in endless and cheerful talk among themselves. When I wrapped myself in my kaross and turned into the wagon at night I left them talking. When I awoke in the early morning I found them talking still.
The country I saw in the Northern part of the Transvaal is very different, and far more picturesque than it is in the South-West or South-East, which have a close resemblance to one another, in their bare, barren, treeless, and dreary character. I saw some parts which were really beautiful. One day we drove for several miles through quite lovely scenery. In passing along the road I was forcibly reminded of the road between Braemar and Mar Lodge, in Aberdeenshire, which it strongly resembles. The road runs on the side of the hill, sloping down to the rivulet at the bottom, exactly like the river Dee, and the Rooiburg, or red tinted, Mountain, exactly resembles the heather on the Scottish hills. It is altogether a charming spot, and a perfect picture of fine scenery. There is a large quantity of excellent and valuable timber in this district, as well as abundant evidence of mineral-bearing quartz. I believe that, some day, other Johannesburgs are destined to rise in the Northern part of the Transvaal, rivalling, or perhaps even eclipsing, the treasures already discovered in the Randt.
At the spot I have described, which is called Hartebeestepoort, not far from the banks of the Zand River, where there is a good quantity of excellent and valuable timber, there was quite a romantic scene one night. We were discussing, as usual, our evening meal round our camp fire. It was starlight, but otherwise we were in total darkness. In addition to ourselves, there were nine Kafirs, making a party of a dozen altogether. It was an intensely interesting and remarkable scene to me, to find myself surrounded by these wild fellows in perfectly friendly fashion, in the midst of the vast veldt, the silence and stillness only broken every now and then by the cry of the jackals howling in the distance. On leaving here we travelled north towards Grouthoek, which is situated in the midst of the Rhynoster range of mountains, being drawn by oxen, our horses following us, in order to give them rest, and so keep them fresher.