signals were, that boon was denied at once.
Secondly, the old tar wished to know whether
he could annex a piece of ground and cultivate
it. Being told that he was "monarch of all
he surveyed," and that no one would dispute
his right to till the whole promontory if it so
pleased him, he replied that that being so, he
should like to have a few waggon loads of soil
brought up from Simons Bay, for he had
"spotted" a nice piece of level rock under the
lee of a big boulder close by the house, where
it only wanted a foot or two of stuff to "grow
'taturs and greens stunnin'." Were an eccentric
millionnaire, having taken it into his head to
have a cabbage garden in St. Paul's churchyard,
to buy and pull down a warehouse for its
site, he would hardly compass a more costly
plantation than would have been the potato
ground "under the lee of the big boulder" at
Cape Point, constructed according to the
keeper's notions.

The descent from the rock was soon effected,
and, arrived on the plain, we had not far to look
for our horses. The poor brutes had given
up looking for anything to eat, for the sun had
scorched up every green thing to tinder. But
they had found a small baboon-frequented pool,
and filled themselves to the throat with brackish
water.

We began our return journey at three o'clock.
The heat was still intense; indeed, in January –
which is, of course, midsummer at the Cape –
the hottest part of the day is, I think, between
two and five P.M. I had at starting declined
most positively to return by the ledge route, so
it was agreed to get on as fast as we could, and
try to hit the beginning of the "hard road"
before dark. My unfortunate grey, after covering
about eight miles, became the picture of
despair, his head and ears hung down, the
water he carried was leaking out and ran down
him in large hot drops; he had been rolling,
too, while still hot, and the fine white sand
had stuck, giving his coat the feel and look of
a piece of sand-paper. Finally, he stumbled
frightfully. I was beginning to think it would
be my fate to camp out for the remainder of
that day and night, when I luckily bethought
me of a few remaining sandwiches. I
dismounted and offered my horse one. He smelt
at it and jerked his head in the air with the
action of a person who has taken a long sniff
at a very pungent bottle of salts. Each sandwich
contained two slices of beef, enclosing a
thick layer of strong colonial condiment, the
principal ingredients of which I know are
mustard and cayenne pepper. But his fierce
hunger got the better even of this; he bolted them
one after another, as a child swallows a fig with
physic in it. The effect was magical; in ten
minutes he seemed another animal. All the
weariness – even the stumbling – vanished, and
with erect head and pointed ears he galloped
along neck and neck with Brown's strong
handsome bay.

And so we rode past the farmhouse, where
the ever watchful dogs howled at us again, without
stopping until we gained the entrance to the
hard road. Soon afterwards we saw the large
sun sink out of the golden cloudless sky into
the sea; and then, hardly a moment of twilight
intervening, night was upon us, and the stars
shone out in their southern brilliancy from the
blue vault in which, but a few minutes before,
the sun seemed to reign supreme and alone.
Instantly, too, a different set of creatures filled
the air; beetles and mosquitos, the huge bats
and brilliant fireflies; while nighthawks and owls
left the shelter of the rocks to commence their
nightly search for carrion, moles, and "such
small deer." Lucky it was for us we had hit
upon the beginning of the road before dark, for
we never should have found those faint, nearly
obliterated wheel marks after sunset. Although
on the hard road, we had soon to confine
ourselves to a walking pace again, for there
were break-neck ups and downs, besides many
loose fragments of rock here and there scattered
over it.

At last we stood upon the summit of the
mountain backing Simons Town, and the very
steep way down was before us. It is a road so
steep that the few ox waggons which have to go
up have often thirty beasts in pairs attached,
and even then the plunging, struggling animals
slip at every step over the smooth granite
rock. We dismounted, and led our horses
by the length of the bridle, for they will not in
such positions walk beside a man, but persist
in following at his heels like a dog. The lights
of the town were soon seen, and we reached
home as the clock of the naval yard struck ten.

THE NEW SERIAL TALE, HESTER'S HISTORY,
commenced in the last number, will be continued
from week to week until completed in the present
volume.

      FAREWELL SERIES OF READINGS.
                            BY
           MR. CHARLES DICKENS.

MESSRS. CHAPPELL AND Co. have the honour
to announce that MR. DICKENS'S FINAL SERIES
OF READINGS, comprehending some of the chief
towns in England, Ireland, and Scotland, will
commence at ST. JAMES'S HALL, LONDON, on Tuesday,
October 6.
All communications to be addressed to MESSRS.
CHAPPELL AND Co., 50, New Bond-street, London, W.

The Right of Translating Articles from ALL THE YEAR ROUND is reserved by the Authors.