In passing through these hills on our way north we enter a pass named Manakalongwe, or Unicorn’s Pass.  The unicorn here is a large edible caterpillar, with an erect, horn-like tail.  The pass was also called Porapora (or gurgling of water), from a stream having run through it.  The scene must have been very different in former times from what it is now.  This is part of the River Mahalapi, which so-called river scarcely merits the name, any more than the meadows of Edinburgh deserve the title of North Loch.  These hills are the last we shall see for months.  The country beyond consisted of large patches of trap-covered tufa, having little soil or vegetation except tufts of grass and wait-a-bit thorns, in the midst of extensive sandy, grass-covered plains.  These yellow-colored, grassy plains, with moretloa and mahatla bushes, form quite a characteristic feature of the country.  The yellow or dun-color prevails during a great part of the year.  The Bakwain hills are an exception to the usual flat surface, for they are covered with green trees to their tops, and the valleys are often of the most lovely green.  The trees are larger too, and even the plains of the Bakwain country contain trees instead of bushes.  If you look north from the hills we are now leaving, the country partakes of this latter character.  It appears as if it were a flat covered with a forest of ordinary-sized trees from 20 to 30 feet high, but when you travel over it they are not so closely planted but that a wagon with care may be guided among them.  The grass grows in tufts of the size of one’s hat, with bare soft sand between.  Nowhere here have we an approach to English lawns, or the pleasing appearance of English greensward.

In no part of this country could European grain be cultivated without irrigation.  The natives all cultivate the dourrha or holcus sorghum, maize, pumpkins, melons, cucumbers, and different kinds of beans; and they are entirely dependent for the growth of these on rains.  Their instrument of culture is the hoe, and the chief labor falls on the female portion of the community.  In this respect the Bechuanas closely resemble the Caffres.  The men engage in hunting, milk the cows, and have the entire control of the cattle; they prepare the skins, make the clothing, and in many respects may be considered a nation of tailors.

When at Sekomi’s we generally have heard his praises sounded by a man who rises at break of day, and utters at the top of his voice the oration which that ruler is said to have composed at his boguera.  This repetition of his “leina”, or oration, is so pleasing to a chief, that he generally sends a handsome present to the man who does it.

January 28th.  Passing on to Letloche, about twenty miles beyond the Bamangwato, we found a fine supply of water.  This is a point of so much interest in that country that the first question we ask of passers by is, “Have you had water?” the first inquiry a native puts to a fellow-countryman is, “Where is the rain?” and, though they are by no means an untruthful nation, the answer generally is, “I don’t know—­there is none—­we are killed with hunger and by the sun.”  If news is asked for, they commence with, “There is no news:  I heard some lies only,” and then tell all they know.