CHAPTER III.
BLAAUWILDEBEESTEFONTEIN The Pilgrim's Progress had been the Sabbath reading of my boyhood, and as I came in sight of Blaauwildebeestefontein a passage ran in my head.
It was that which tells how Christian and Hopeful, after many perils of the way, came to the Delectable Mountains, from which they had a prospect of Canaan.

After many dusty miles by rail, and a weariful journey in a Cape-cart through arid plains and dry and stony gorges, I had come suddenly into a haven of green.

The Spring of the Blue Wildebeeste was a clear rushing mountain torrent, which swirled over blue rocks into deep fern-fringed pools.

All around was a tableland of lush grass with marigolds and arum lilies instead of daisies and buttercups.

Thickets of tall trees dotted the hill slopes and patched the meadows as if some landscape-gardener had been at work on them.
Beyond, the glen fell steeply to the plains, which ran out in a faint haze to the horizon.