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 from strife and want and disorder, that the beholder as he looks down upon it is tempted to think that the peace of such an abode is better than the excitement of a Paris, a London, or a New York. I will not say that the peace and quiet can be discerned from the hill top, but he who sits there, knowing that the peace and quiet are lying beneath him, will think that he sees them.

Nor will I say that Bloemfontein is itself peculiarly beautiful. It has no rapid rivers running through it as has the capital of the Tyrol, no picturesqueness of hills to make it lovely as has Edinburgh, no glory of buildings such as belongs to Florence. It is not quaint as Nuremberg, romantic as Prague, or even embowered in foliage as are some of the Dutch villages in the western province of the Cape Colony. But it has a completeness and neatness which makes it very pleasant to the eye. One knows that no one is over-hungry there, or over-worked. The work indeed is very light. Friday is a half holyday for everybody. The banks close at one o'clock on Saturday. Three o'clock ends the day for all important business. I doubt whether any shop is open after six. At eight all the servants,—who of course are coloured people,—are at home at their own huts in Wray Hook. No coloured person is allowed to walk about Bloemfontein after eight. This, it may be said, is oppressive to them. But if they are expelled from the streets, so also are they relieved from their work. At Wray Hook they can walk about as much as they please,—or go to bed.

There is much in all this which is old-fashioned,—con