so as to get the benefit of his experience,
either by imitating or avoiding his example. We gained the opposite
side. I saw the Hottentot's horse rise before me as if mounting a
staircase. He slipped, and floundered on his nose and knees. The led
horse disconcerted him. Just then my own horse made a bound up the
bank, and pawed the mud for a moment. "Slack the reins! give him his
head!" shouted Edwards. I did so. With a mighty plunge and a groan the
sturdy animal bore me to the top of the bank in safety. I turned and
saw the Tottie's horse throw up its head and fore legs, as if
imploringly, to the skies, and fall backwards. The Tottie himself
appeared for a moment in the form of a spread-eagle, and then horse and
man went back with a sounding splash into the river.

Hobson, who had been all the time enjoying the spectacle, now crossed
with the cart; but, on taking the bank, despite their utmost efforts,
the powerful pair stuck fast on their knees and noses. Meanwhile the
Hottentot scrambled out with his animals, none the worse for the plunge.

As the horses could not move the cart an inch in their
semi-perpendicular position, we unharnessed them, and the four of us, by
slow degrees, working one wheel at a time, zig-zagged the cart upward a
few feet, when horses were once more attached, and the crossing was
finally accomplished.

That evening we came to "Smith's farm," one of the places where the
Diamond-field coaches stop to change horses. It was beyond the
mountains at the commencement of the great rolling plains. Here I had
arranged to await the arrival of the mail-cart, and proceed _via_
Bedford to Grahamstown.

And here, with deep regret, I bade farewell to my friend Hobson--a
true-hearted, well-educated Englishman, born in the colony; the son of
one of the "1820 settlers;" a brave, bold, fearless, loving man, who
hunted lions, leopards, elephants, zebras, and all the large game of
Africa in his youth, and was "out" in the war,--a warm friend, a
splendid type of those hardy men whose lot it is to subdue the
wilderness.

There were several hours to pass before the arrival of the mail-cart.
Smith and his people were busy, and, as there were no guests at the time
in that lonely road-side inn, I had plenty of leisure to bask in the
sunshine, sketch the cactus bushes that abounded there, [see Note 1],
gaze dreamily over the boundless Karroo, and meditate sadly on
friendships and partings.

The first