“On the 11th of December we quitted Mossel Bay, at three p.m., on our way to the Gulbecks River, on the banks of which we were to halt for the night. The road winding round the N.W. shore of Mossel Bay, although very rugged and difficult in many places, might with a little exertion be rendered tolerable, if not good. Having ascended a gradual acclivity of about five miles from the Bay, we had a most magnificent view of the windings of the Hartebest River, through a beautifully diversified valley, with the Swartbergs in the back ground, their summits illuminated by and sparkling with the rays of the setting sun, catching upon the broken crags by which many of the heights were terminated. The house of Mr. Mayers, who was to be our host for the night, stood upon a gentle eminence, sloping down from the mountain towards the sea, and commanded a splendid view of the valley, the river, and the sea, with the whole range of coast from Mossel Bay to the Kayman. Mr. Mayers is an example of what may be done by industry and exertion. His family and his house were highly creditable. Hospitality, neatness, and every appearance of domestic felicity, gave a relish to this scene which is not easily forgotten, and would have been a subject for admiration in any part of the world. All that struck the eye conveyed an idea of comfort and respectability, and shewed the effect of habitual attention to arrangement and cleanliness. A group of beautiful and orderly children gave promise that this valley would flourish in future generations.
“Mr. Mayers had long been afflicted with rheumatism, and had almost become a cripple, he still walked with a crutch, but was recovering. He appeared to have lost neither energy or cheerfulness. When one of our party remarked to him how fine a family he had, his answer seemed to come warm from his heart, and his feelings glistened in his eyes, while he said, ‘Yes, and that was the reason why I was so anxious to recover my health, that I might see them respectably brought up.’
“The most serious of all wants experienced by the colonial farmers in general, is the great distance from all means of religious instruction. I have already shewn how much property increases in value by lying in the neighbourhood of a church; and the people are generally willing to make sacrifices, in order to have places of worship amongst them. From Caledon to George, a distance of a hundred miles, there is no church; and all the families in the intermediate space are obliged to go either to the one or to the other town for marriages or christenings; indeed they often, if not generally, availed themselves of their occasional journies to Cape Town with the produce of their farms, for these purposes. Impressed with the deplorable state of ignorance, and in too many cases of vice, in which some of the Boors’ families were living, for want of the care of a pastor, I subsequently wrote to the Bishop of London, and stating the effects produced by the exertions of the Moravians as an encouragement, I ventured to suggest that Ministers of the Church of England should be sent out, and located in different parts of the colony, where they might live comfortably and respectably, on a very moderate income, assisted by a certain portion of land; and I added, that were a clerk to accompany the minister, a man of well known good character, and skilful as a mechanic, particularly as a carpenter, mason, or blacksmith, it was certain that a village would rise up in a very short space of time, and that the religion as well as the language of England would rapidly spread throughout the colony.
“The scene round the country churches on sacrament Sundays, which occur about four times in the year, resembles a large fair, from the wagons coming from every part of the country within a day’s journey of the church, and sometimes even from a much greater distance. They remain the whole day, and not unfrequently for several days together in the rainy season, from the country being flooded. The people upon these occasions also, as well as upon their more distant journeys, inhabit their wagons, with the exception perhaps of a few, who may find accommodation with friends residing near the church; but this general and periodical assemblage too often leads to conviviality and intemperance, which entirely defeat the religious intention of the journey, and render the sacred rite which was intended for their benefit an additional cause of iniquity. That there are many striking exceptions to this line of conduct, I have already endeavoured to shew; but the effect of such a state of things upon the great mass of uneducated people, must be evident to every one who knows the propensities of mankind. It does then become a most imperative duty on the mother country to administer to the spiritual wants of her distant population, and neither labour nor expense should be spared; though in this case, but little of either is required. The bare selection of fit persons as pastors, with a very moderate income, say £300 per annum, with a grant of land and proper encouragement to a pious and skilful mechanic, as a clerk, would be all that is required, for a considerable extent of this fertile wilderness, for such it may be well termed, both in a moral and an agricultural sense. The respectable character of Mr. Meyers, will at the same time account for and justify this digression.
“This is a considerable corn farm, called Hartenbosh Kraal. In tolerable years the return is about twenty bushels for one, which although it falls far below the produce of many other parts of the colony, especially where new lands are brought under cultivation, is nevertheless a fair average, but here again the great want is a market. Mr. Meyers assured me, that could he procure forty rix dollars the load for his corn at Mossel Bay, he would employ every one of his people in cultivating his land, but that he could not afford to send it to the Cape. He had three hundred head of cattle, forty horses, and a large flock of sheep; the latter, however, were very subject to the rot, in consequence of the sour grass. The large cattle were in excellent order.
“On the 12th December we left this interesting family, deeply impressed with their kindness, and with all we had seen there. We were obliged to wait till ten o’clock, before we could proceed on our journey, in order that the tide might be out in the rivers we had to pass, and enable us to ford them; these were the Grilbeck, and the great and little Braake. The Grilbeck is a tributary stream to the little Braake. We crossed them both near the confluence, the first about fifty yards in breadth, but at the time not more than two feet deep; the latter is a considerable stream, and in some parts of our passage nearly five feet in depth. The country between these rivers is irregular, and sometimes precipitous. The valley between the great and little Braake had the appearance of much fertility. The road winds round the southern slope of a range of hills diverging from the great chain of mountains, which runs parallel with the coast, and stretches towards the sea. We crossed the great Braake about a mile from its mouth, where it was lost at this period in a high ridge of sand stretching across it, but which of course gives way to the winter’s torrents. This blockade is of such constant occurrence, as to deprive the great Braake of all prospect of being made navigable. This river was not broader where we crossed it than the little Braake, but its banks were steeper, and the depth much the same. In winter it must be a tremendous torrent, from the great declivity of its bed, and the steep and precipitous ravines running into it. From the summit of a high hill on the eastern side of the great Braake we had one of the finest prospects we had as yet enjoyed. It comprehended a most magnificent combination of mountain, plain, deep wooded dells, the windings of the rivers, and a most extensive line of the sea coast, including the whole of Mossel Bay and Cape St. Blaize, the view extending and losing itself in the far western distance. This spot called forth a rapturous description and admiration from Lichtenstein, and well deserves both.
“We now approached the great forest of Uitenhage land, and already saw fine timber trees skirting the southern slope of the Swartberg, and flourishing in increased luxuriance in the deep ravines, where they derived nourishment from the alluvial soil continually carried down by the rains. The vegetation of these dells is rank and productive beyond expectation, especially when contrasted with the stunted production of the plains we had been so long traversing.
“From the great Braake to the Mudzikammer we crossed an elevated plateau, well cultivated in many parts. The grass however is sour, and unfit for grazing; but this pernicious quality wears off after having been turned up by the plough. Here we had the first view of the rising city of George, the chief town of the district; also the new road into the Lange Kloof, made in the pass of a mountain called Craddock’s hing, after the Governor in whose time it was begun, Lord Howden.
“The traveller is greatly deceived in his estimate of the distance from his first sight of George, after having ascended the heights on the left bank of the great Braake; to all appearance he thinks he could ride it with ease to himself and his horse in an hour and a half; but the road is so crossed by deep ravines, no appearance of which present themselves, that we spent more than four hours in reaching that place.
“The banks of the Mudzikammer are most formidably precipitous, and here was the steepest pass we had met with over any river. On reaching it we found a wagon stuck in the bottom of the only narrow road which led across the river, and in such a manner as precluded all possibility of our getting over until it was removed. This is a circumstance that frequently occurs, and the driver of the arrested wagon bears his detention with the utmost degree of philosophy. He proceeds to light his fire, and cook his meals, and then goes quietly to sleep, well knowing that he is the master of the pass, and that none can proceed either east or west until he is extricated; he is sure therefore of the assistance of the first span of oxen or horses which may come. This extrication must have fallen to our lot, had we not preceded our wagon on horseback and found a person waiting for us at this place, with information that a relay of horses had been sent for us to the pass of the Palmiet River, about a mile higher up the ravine. We accordingly turned off in that direction, and passed the Palmiet River, or more properly speaking the Palmiet bog, for no water was visible. This was not effected without great difficulty, even with fresh and vigorous horses, which had been kindly sent by Mr. Van Kemper, the Landroost of George. It is a deep slough, formed by the decayed roots of the Palmieto; and the waters oozing from the surrounding ravines, in dry weather not being in a sufficient quantity to form a stream, stagnate among the roots. The wagon sunk into the floating mass up to the axle-trees; but what increased the difficulty was the very steep height of the opposite bank, which was to be ascended after getting over. The ground is so unequal that it is almost impossible for the horses to draw together; but every effort is made by the whip and the voice to urge them to simultaneous exertion, and is generally successful. It was at length overcome, and we proceeded gaily on the road to George, where we arrived at half-past five o’clock, and were most cordially received and welcomed by our excellent friend the Landroost.