cliffs, he turned his horse's head towards
them. As he approached nearer to their base, he was charmed with the
beautiful scenery that began to open before his eyes. He passed through
grassy plains of different sizes, separated from each other by copses of
the delicate-leaved mimosa; some of these forming large thickets, while
others consisted of only a few low bushes. Towering high over the
mimosas, grew many trees of gigantic size, and of a species Von Bloom
had never seen before. They stood thinly upon the ground; but each,
with its vast leafy head, seemed a little forest of itself.

The whole country around had a soft park-like appearance, which
contrasted well with the dark cliff that rose beyond--the latter
stepping up from the plain by a precipice of several hundred feet in
height, and seemingly as vertical as the walls of a house.

The fine landscape was gratifying to the eyes of the traveller--such a
fine country in the midst of so much barrenness; for he knew that most
of the surrounding region was little better than a wild karoo. The
whole of it to the north for hundreds of miles was a famous desert--the
desert of Kalihari--and these cliffs were a part of its southern border.
The "vee-boor" would have been rejoiced at such a sight under other
circumstances. But what to him now were all these fine pastures--now
that he was no longer able to stock them?

Notwithstanding the beauty of the scene, his reflections were painful.

But he did not give way to despair. His present troubles were
sufficiently grievous to prevent him from dwelling much on the future.
His first care was to find a place where his horses might be recruited;
for without them he could no longer move anywhere--without them he would
be helpless indeed.

Water was the desired object. If water could not be found, all this
beautiful park through which he was passing would be as valueless to him
as the brown desert.

Surely so lovely a landscape could not exist without that most essential
element!

So thought the field-cornet; and at the turning of every new grove his
eyes wandered over the ground in search of it.

"_Ho_!" he joyfully exclaimed as a covey of large Namaqua partridges
whirred up from his path. "A good sign that: _they_ are seldom far from
water."

Shortly after, he saw a flock of beautiful pintados, or guinea-hens,
running into a copse. This was a still further proof that water was
nigh. But surest of all, on the