foot with comfort, the angle being in some places fully 40 deg. A
grand piece of scenery, for the dark rock walls rose menacing on either
hand; and also a beautiful one, for the flowers, especially two
brilliant shrubby geraniums, were profuse and gorgeous in hue. At the
bottom, after a very rough scramble, we mounted our horses, and hastened
along to escape the thunderstorm which was now nearly upon us, and which
presently drove us for shelter into a native hut, where a Basuto woman,
with her infant hanging in a cloth on her back, was grinding corn
between two stones. She went on with her work, and presently addressed
my wife, asking (as was explained to us) for a piece of soap wherewith
to smear her face, presumably as a more fragrant substitute for the clay
or ochre with which the Basuto ladies cover their bodies. The hut was
clean and sweet, and, indeed, all through Basutoland we were struck by
the neat finish of the dwellings and of the reed fences which inclosed
them. When the storm had passed away over the mountains, "growling and
muttering into other lands," and the vast horizon was again flooded with
evening sunshine, we rode swiftly away, first over the rolling plateau
we had traversed in the forenoon, then turning to the north along the
top of the sandstone cliffs that inclose the valley of the Kaloe River,
where Bushman pictures adorn the caves. At last as night fell, we
dropped into the valley of the Kaloe itself, and so slowly through the
darkness, for the horses were tired, and the track (which crosses the
river four times) was rough and stony, came at last to the mission
station of Thaba Bosiyo. Here we were welcomed by the Swiss pastor in
charge of the mission, Mr. E. Jacottet, whose collection of Basuto and
Barotse popular tales have made him well known to the students of
folk-lore. No man knows the Basutos better than he and his colleague,
Mr. Dyke of Morija; and what they told us was of the highest interest.
Next day was Sunday, and gave us the opportunity of seeing a large
congregation of Basuto converts and of hearing their singing, the
excellence of which reminded us of the singing of negro congregations in
the Southern States of America. We had also two interesting visits. One
was from an elderly Basuto magnate of the neighbourhood, who was
extremely anxious to know if Queen Victoria really existed, or was a
mere figment of the British Government. He had met many white men, he
told us, but none of