of the Cape Colony
the cold in the winter is often severe, and the ground is covered with
snow. At Kuruman snow seldom falls, but the frost is keen. There is
frost even as far as the Chobe, and a partial winter in the Barotse
valley, but beyond the Orange River we never have cold and damp
combined. Indeed, a shower of rain seldom or never falls during winter,
and hence the healthiness of the Bechuana climate. From the Barotse
valley northward it is questionable if it ever freezes; but, during the
prevalence of the south wind, the thermometer sinks as low as 42 Deg.,
and conveys the impression of bitter cold.

Nothing can exceed the beauty of the change from the wintry appearance
to that of spring at Kolobeng. Previous to the commencement of the
rains, an easterly wind blows strongly by day, but dies away at night.
The clouds collect in increasing masses, and relieve in some measure
the bright glare of the southern sun. The wind dries up every thing,
and when at its greatest strength is hot, and raises clouds of dust.
The general temperature during the day rises above 96 Deg.: then showers
begin to fall; and if the ground is but once well soaked with a good
day's rain, the change produced is marvelous. In a day or two a tinge
of green is apparent all over the landscape, and in five or six days the
fresh leaves sprouting forth, and the young grass shooting up, give
an appearance of spring which it requires weeks of a colder climate to
produce. The birds, which in the hot, dry, windy season had been silent,
now burst forth into merry twittering songs, and are busy building their
nests. Some of them, indeed, hatch several times a year. The lowering of
the temperature, by rains or other causes, has much the same effect as
the increasing mildness of our own spring. The earth teems with myriads
of young insects; in some parts of the country hundreds of centipedes,
myriapedes, and beetles emerge from their hiding-places, somewhat as
our snails at home do; and in the evenings the white ants swarm by
thousands. A stream of them is seen to rush out of a hole, and, after
flying one or two hundred yards, they descend; and if they light upon a
piece of soil proper for the commencement of a new colony, they bend
up their tails, unhook their wings, and, leaving them on the surface,
quickly begin their mining operations. If an attempt is made to separate
the wings from the body by drawing them away backward, they seem as if
hooked into