CHAPTER XXX.

COLONIAL TOWNS.-CAPE TOWN.

"PAH! AND SMELL SO."

"Like a black wall the mountain steeps appear."- Wordsworth.

"You have on your right the grand old Table Mountain, with its mighty caverns and gorges. Such a background for a picture is not to be met with in many parts of the world."-R. W. Murray.

THE situation of Cape Town is, to say the least of it, extremely fortunate from a picturesque point of view; although on first arrival at the docks, one is by no means favourably impressed. The grey gaunt outline of Table Mountain stands out in by no means pleasing perspective. The effect it produces is perhaps a little alarming, it seems so very near, and so very formidable and solid, one cannot help dreading that it will presently fall upon the harbour and crush everything beneath its enormous weight. Again it gives the impression of passive resistance, and the nervous traveller looks upon it with a wistful, anxious eye, as if to ask whether the majestic monster will, or will not, bar his way to all beyond it. In short, the innocent might be pardoned for imagining, that here he had to reckon with one of the walls of the earth. These first impressions are changed as by a magician's wand, upon a nearer acquaintance with the mountain, and its immediate entourage. The cab which takes you from the docks into the town introduces you, in the manner of a panorama, to the natural beauty of the mountain and the city. The scene, which is gradually unfolded to your admiring eyes, is one of rare and peculiar loveliness. Cape Town nestles at the base of a range

of hills, terminating in the Devil's Peak, and in Table Mountain. It is encircled by the bluest of bays, and arched in by the bluest of skies. Although straight lines and right angles, squares and parallelograms, which are the distinctive features, both of the streets, and of the buildings, somewhat detract from the picturesque aspect of the place, this uniformity is redeemed not a little, by the presence of large open squares, and by the quaint appearance, and the many coloured tints of the houses themselves. The mountainous chains which surround the city, afford plenty of points of vantage, from which excellent bird's eye views of the town can be obtained. Many of the uphill walks around the Kloofs are rendered the more exacting on account of the hard and stony nature of the roads. The Cape girls are capital climbers, and, as a rule, are strong and hardy damsels. It will be seen, therefore, that one never need go on these journeys alone; but go you must, for you are good-naturedly chaffed out of your indolence and want of energy. One does not like to be put into the shade completely by members of the fair sex. Merry, laughing, spirited damoiselles are these ladies, who, if you are a good boy, will always consent to be your guardian angels. In the exuberance of their kind-heartedness, and in the natural pride which they experience, in being able to show you the beauties of their beloved country; and in listening to the fresh, crisp expressions of admiration, which, if you have a soul, you will be forced to utter; they doubtless find their recompense. From the Signal Hill, or the Lion's Hill, so called from its resemblance in shape to a lion, a very excellent view of the fashionable suburbs of Green Point and Sea Point is obtained. Above this is the Round House, now a hotel, but in the good old days, when Prince George was Regent, this mansion formed one of the numerous town houses possessed by Lord Charles Somerset-twice Governor of the Cape of Good Hope. George IV. evidently learnt little from the pig-headed obstinacy of his father, which obstinacy cost us America. His chum, Lord Charles, came to grief soon after his return from the Cape. When George heard this he is reported to have said: "I suppose we must send poor Charlie out again, to fleece the Hottentots". This Governor, at all events, had no reason to

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complain of the inadequacy of his pay, a complaint which, in my opinion, modern South African governors can justly make. His income is said to have reached £50,000 per annum, and to this must be added the emoluments arising from various perquisites and monopolies. From this Round House, a miserable inn enough, one looks upon the Dutch Reformed, the Lutheran, and the Episcopal burying-grounds; and upon the Hospital, a by no means unpretentious looking building, but so short-sightedly constructed, as far as its internal arrangements are concerned, that, among other sins of omission, provision for a hot water supply was neglected by the architect. Beyond the Hospital are the docks, and excellent docks they were when I knew them, but now they are able to claim rank with the first docks of the world, and are capable of harbouring the largest vessels and fleets. Not far off is the Castle, an ugly old Dutch building, in which the "unfortunate Cetewayo languished" for a time. The barracks are near at hand, and they possess superlative features of hideousness, which only go to redeem the unattractive exterior of the Castle, in that they carry off the palm of ugliness. The Town-House is somewhat more pleasing in appearance. It is the meeting-place of the Duke of Edinburgh's volunteers, and of the volunteer firebrigade. Apropos of the volunteers, this town is the head-quarters of about four corps. The Standard Bank of South Africa has new premises in Cape Town and very worthy of the bank they The churches are now the only remaining conspicuous buildings in the city. St. George's Cathedral is an unpretending structure at the top of St. George Street-the Fleet Street of the city-where the Standard and Mail, Cape Argus, The Mercantile Gazette, Cape Times, and Daily News, were published. The Daily News and Standard and Mail are defunct. The Roman Catholic Cathedral is not far distant, it is at the corner of Hope Street, a long straggling thoroughfare, leading to THE GARDENS. There is a fine Dutch cathedral, a Lutheran church, several Episcopal churches, a Malay mosque, and places of worship for all other denominations. These objects were pointed out to me from the top of a hill, soon after my arrival. Before we descend we cast a lingering look at the Hottentot-Holland range of moun

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tains, which lie on the other side of the town, and which display beautiful and varied tints of colouring as the sun-rays throw an iridescent mantle over their wood-crowned heights. The Hottentots were driven into these mountains by the Dutch, as the Gaels were driven into the Highlands of Scotland by the Saxon Lowlanders. The Dutch did not let the Hottentots remain unmolested in their new homes. They soon followed them, and established farms in the mountains. A race of hybrid breed in course of time appeared. They were called Hottentot-Hollanders, and they ultimately gave their name to the mountain range where they were born. While we are contemplating the zig-zag path by which we must regain the valley, we are apprised of the ever-fleeting hour by the flash of the one o'clock gun in the Market-square. This gun is fired by electricity from the observatory. Simultaneously a man who is watching through a telescope pulls a trigger, and a ball at the top of a pole, on the summit of the hill, runs down in imitation of a similar contrivance on the Calton Hill at Edinburgh. This serves to remind the good people of Cape Town that the hour of tiffin has arrived, one o'clock being their usual luncheon hour. Coming down the hill, my companions call my attention to the old block-houses, square Martello towers, situated on slight eminences. These were used for military purposes, in the days of the ancien régime, but they are now of far less use than the derelict Dutch cannon, which are to be found at the corners of the streets of Cape Town, discharging the useful purpose of guarding the pavement, albeit it is a lowly office in comparison with that for which they were originally intended. Through THE GARDENS we pass into the town, the streets of which are famous for a red and sticky dust, terrible dust it is, or sand, which shall I call it? If I cast a sheep's glance at the hotels, I daresay I deserve forgiveness, for that horrible dust is too terribly choking and nasty. It fills the throat and nostrils almost to suffocation. Apropos of hotels, there is the St. George's, a quiet house, affected by staid ladies, although I noticed that the actors made it their rendezvous. The Masonic, a tumble down old crib, opposite to the Market-square; some persons call it the best hotel in the place-the Commercial, a cheerful place enough, and clean and convenient, and the Royal,

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a more modern house than the foregoing. The table d'hôte at all these hotels is fairly good, and the charges are moderate, and there is an air of old-fashioned comfort about them all. But such comfort is of the old-fashioned type, to a degree. There is nothing modern about any of them. Whether really good English hotels, with all the recent innovations, conducted on continental principles, would pay in South Africa, I am unable to say. At all events, as I have before remarked, Africanders would be unable to get over their utter abhorrence to the tipping system, and this abhorrence is by no means born of mean or cheeseparing instincts, but of independence, and a detestation of imposition. We shall see how the new International hotel and the Gaiety restaurant fare. Of the theatres, public gardens, and the public library, I have already spoken elsewhere. I will finish this brief sketch of a very remarkable place,—which, by the way, I heard only a few days since stigmatised by two or three friends, who have just returned therefrom, as "a dusty musty hole"; with which animadversion it is needless to say I distinctly disagree,-by an allusion to its most prominent feature, that is to say, Table Mountain. When this gaunt sentinel puts on its night-cap and begins to smoke, that is to say, when its summit is encircled with a dense mist, a south-easterly wind may be expected, a most unkindly disagreeable blast, at which indeed should you hurl a few expletives, you may be more than pardoned. Snow is occasionally, but very occasionally, seen on Table Mountain in the winter.

Cape Town is, in my opinion, by no means a bad city to live in, despite all its faults, and, for my part, I can freely say I have spent there many a happy day, aye, and night too.