The state of the people, and the impossibility of the spot on which we lived becoming a permanent missionary station,—for, instead of its being a Jerusalem, as Mr. Ebner called it, it might, from its general character, be compared to the mountains of Gilboa, on which neither rain nor dew was to fall,—gave rise to much inquiry respecting a locality more suitable. It was accordingly resolved to take a journey to the north, and examine a country on the borders of Damara-land, where it was reported fountains of water abounded; but I had only one wagon, and that was a cripple. We had neither carpenters nor smiths on the station, and I was unacquainted with these trades myself. The Orange River was impassable; and even had it been fordable, the wagon was incapable of being convered to Pella, where it might be repaired. After ruminating for a day or two on what I had seen in smiths' shops in Cape Town, I resolved on making a trial, and got a native bellows, made of goat's skin, to the neck end of which was attached the horn of an elk, and at the other end two parallel sticks were fastened, which were opened by the hand in drawing it back, and closed when pressed forward, but making a puffing like something broken-winded. The iron was only red-hot, after a good perspiration, when I found I must give it up as a bad job; observing to the chief, if I must accompany him, it must be on the back of an ox.