e position of the southern pole. Soon after dark we
came to the top of the last high hill, and saw what seemed an abyss
opening beneath. The descent was steep, but a beaten track led down it,
reputed the most dangerous piece of road in the Free State; and the
driver regaled us with narratives of the accidents that had taken place
on the frequent occasions when the coach had been upset, adding,
however, that nobody ever had been or would be killed while he held the
reins. He proved as good as his word, and brought us safely to Ladybrand
at 9 P.M., after more than twelve hours of a drive so fatiguing that
only the marvellously bracing air enabled us to feel none the worse for
it.

Ladybrand is a pretty little hamlet lying at the foot of the great
flat-topped hill, called the Plaat Berg, which the perilous road
crosses, and looking out from groves of Australian gum-trees, across
fertile corn-fields and meadows, to the Caledon River and the ranges of
Basutoland. A ride of eight miles brings one to the ferry (which in the
dry season becomes a shallow ford) across this stream, and on the
farther shore one is again under the British flag at Maseru, the
residence of the Imperial Commissioner who supervises the administration
of the country, under the direction of the High Commissioner for South
Africa. Here are some sixty Europeans--officials, police, and
store-keepers--and more than two thousand natives. Neither here nor
anywhere else in Basutoland is there an inn; those few persons who visit
the country find quarters in the stores which several whites have been
permitted to establish, unless they have, as we had, the good fortune to
be the guests of the Commissioner.

Basutoland is the Switzerland of South Africa and, very appropriately,
is the part of South Africa where the old inhabitants, defended by their
hills, have retained the largest measure of freedom. Although most of it
is covered with lofty mountains, it has, like Switzerland, one
comparatively level and fertile tract--that which lies along the left
bank of the Caledon River. Morija, the oldest French mission station,
lies in a pretty hollow between five and six thousand feet above the
sea,--nearly all Basutoland is above 5000 feet,--some sixteen miles
south-east from Maseru. Groves of trees and luxuriant gardens give
softness and verdure to the landscape, and among them the mission houses
and schools, and printing-house whence Basuto books are issued, lie
scatt