cinity of the plains on which large game are
found to devote a certain portion of their time to hunting, in order to
supply themselves with a stock of meat. This meat is either salted, or
made into beltong; that is, it is cut into strips, rubbed with salt and
pepper, and hung in a sunny place, where it gets dry, and can be eaten
with no further cooking; or it can be placed in water for a short time,
and then boiled. Thus provided with a supply of meat, the fanner need
not kill his own cattle, but can allow his live stock to increase, and
can thus have very shortly a plentiful supply of cows and oxen, so that
he has no want of milk or means to draw his waggons.

Running in nearly a northerly direction, and varying in distance from
the coast between 100 and 300 miles, are a range of lofty mountains
known as the Quathlamba or Draakenberg. From these mountains all the
rivers rise which flow through the Natal district, and empty themselves
into the Indian Ocean. The principal rivers that there take their rise
are the Umzimkulu, the Umkomazi, the Umgani, the Tugela, with its
tributaries, the Mooi river, the Bushman's, the Klip river, and the
Umzimyati or Buffalo river. The Quathlamba mountains descend into the
plains, in many cases, by a series of terraces, which extend several
miles, and on which are grassy plains of great extent. These plains
being well watered and fertile, were, in the days when the first Dutch
emigrants visited this district, inhabited by large herds of game.
Troops of magnificent elands, amounting to three and four hundred, would
be found herding on these terraces. The hartebeest and wildebeest, the
wild boar, the quagga, and numberless other animals, could be seen and
hunted. Thus, as the African farmer is by nature a sportsman, this
neighbourhood was to him a paradise.

The Englishman in his overtrodden land, but with a love for sport, is
compelled to put up with a feeble or artificial imitation of it. The
hunting of a half-tame fox, following a stabled deer, or even galloping
after the hounds who are hunting the boy who pulls the drag, is
considered sport. This substitute, however, cannot fairly be termed
sport, though it supplies excitement. It is, in fact, not very
different from a steeple-chase, but produces utterly different
sensations from those which are engendered when hunting the wildest of
wild game in a country where man is so rarely seen that he is gazed at
as an intruder, and w