Maritzburg, September 1.

I have had a great many pleasant cups of tea in my life, indoors and out of doors, but never a pleasanter cup than the one I had the other day in a waggon, or, to speak more exactly, by the side of a waggon. A waggon too upon which one looked with the deepest respect, for it had just come down from a long long journey up the country where it had been “trekking” these four months past. Trekking night and day in the territory of the Ama Swazies, through the Thorn country, over hundreds of miles of these endless billowy hills, rolling in wearying monotony day after day; but—and this “but” made up for every other shortcoming—amid hunting grounds, happier than often falls to the lot of even the South African explorer. And there were the spoils of the little campaign spread out before us. The first result, however, which struck me was the splendid health of the travellers. Sunburned indeed they were, especially the fair young English girl-face which had smiled good bye to me from the depths of a sun-bonnet last April; but who would not risk a few shades of tan to have gone through such a novel and delightful journey! I never saw two people look so well in all my life as this adventurous couple, and it was with one voice they declared they had enjoyed every moment of the time.