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 missionaries, or any one who wanted to take the shortest cut through Kuruman, crossed by it; but, somehow or other, nearly every third waggon managed more or less to come to grief. The chief was disinclined to do anything to improve the ford; nor, if he had been disposed, would it have been of much good, as the stream, every time it was swollen, brought down such accumulations of sand, soil, and stones, that the character of the channel was perpetually altering.

Acting under the advice of the blacksmith, who pronounced the ford perfectly safe, we crossed in the afternoon, reaching the opposite side without the least difficulty, and after a short rest went on to Taung. Without pausing in the native quarter, we proceeded to the mission-house, a stone building, with a gabled roof thatched with grass, standing in a nice little garden. On entering we found ourselves face to face with a gentleman about thirty years of age, with a long light beard. He looked at us at first with some surprise, especially at my friend F., who was carrying arms. He was the resident missionary, Mr. Brown. I soon introduced myself, and explained the object of my journey, and he at once gave us a very kindly welcome, apologizing for the simplicity and limited extent of his accommodation. He mentioned that he was engaged upon the compilation of a Sechuana dictionary, a work that has since been published. After ascertaining that we intended making a short halt at Taung, he invited me to bring the waggon into his enclosure,