or
estimation they held English sportsmen generally. Many of my gallant
friends (oracles in their sporting world) would be struck dumb with
horror if they knew with what contempt their performances would be
looked upon, were they to show them amongst an African field. Perhaps I
may clear up this apparent mystery if I relate what are considered the
essentials necessary to even mediocrity in this land of sport.

It is absolutely necessary not only to be a good shot, but to be so
after a sharp four-mile gallop, and from either shoulder; to load as
well while at full speed as when on foot; to be able to ride boldly
across country, and allow your horse to go down-hill at speed over the
large stones and _with a loose rein_; to pull up, dismount, fire, and
get up again with a rapidity a monkey might envy; and when an animal has
been wounded and is out of sight, to lean over your horse's shoulder,
and follow the spoor at a canter on the hard ground with the accuracy of
a hound; and last and not least, to take care to fly clear of your horse
when he turns over in a jackal's or porcupine's hole, instead of letting
him come on you and smash a few ribs. These and many other
qualifications, I have no doubt, most of my readers possess; but there
may be some who do not, and who in consequence would not stand A1 in the
far south.

Many offers were made to me to go on elephant-shooting trips into the
interior with these men, who purposed a journey during the next dry
season: the Boers' anecdotes gave a great impulse to my already
long-cherished wishes, but circumstances unavoidably prevented this
trip.

When the Boers left my tent, I rolled myself up in my blanket, and
listened to the distant shrieks of the jackal and laugh of the hyaena,
while many other strange noises in the distance excited my curiosity.

I slept and dreamed not.

The cold air, just before daybreak, penetrating my blanket, awakened me,
and I heard the Dutchmen and Hottentots conversing near, and was soon up
and enjoying a cup of steaming hot coffee, with some beef and biscuit.

The morning sun was just showing its rays above the horizon, and the
fogs were rising up the mountains, when we were once more in the saddle.

When we had ridden for nearly an hour, we suddenly saw, in a valley
beneath us, an enormous herd of elands: they were scattered about
grazing like cattle. The Boers' plans were immediately taken, and it
was arranged that some of the party sh