[Footnote 4:  A Hunter’s Life in South Africa.  By R. Gordon Cumming, Esq., of Altyre.]

Mr. Cumming had exhausted the deer-forests of his native Scotland; he had sighed for the rolling prairies and rocky mountains of the Far West, and was tied down to military routine as a mounted rifleman in the Cape Colony; when he determined to resign his commission into the hands of Government, and himself to the delights of hunting amid the untrodden plains and forests of South Africa.  Having provided himself with wagons to travel and live in, with bullocks to draw them, and with a host of attendants; a sufficiency of arms, horses, dogs, and ammunition, he set out from Graham’s-Town in October, 1843.  From that period his hunting adventures extended over five years, during which time he penetrated from various points and in various directions from his starting-place in lat. 33 down to lat. 20, and passed through districts upon which no European foot ever before trod; regions where the wildest of wild animals abound—­nothing less serving Mr. Cumming’s ardent purpose.

A lion story in the early part of his book will introduce this fearless hunter-author to our readers better than the most elaborate dissection of his character.  He is approaching Colesberg, the northernmost military station belonging to the Cape Colony.  He is on a trusty steed, which he calls also “Colesberg.”  Two of his attendants on horseback are with him.  “Suddenly,” says the author, “I observed a number of vultures seated on the plain about a quarter of a mile ahead of us, and close beside them stood a huge lioness, consuming a blesblok which she had killed.  She was assisted in her repast by about a dozen jackals, which were feasting along with her in the most friendly and confidential manner.  Directing my followers’ attention to the spot, I remarked, ‘I see the lion;’ to which they replied, ’Whar? whar?  Yah!  Almagtig! dat is he;’ and instantly reining in their steeds and wheeling about, they pressed their heels to their horses’ sides, and were preparing to betake themselves to flight.  I asked them what they were going to do?  To which they answered, ’We have not yet placed caps on our rifles.’  This was true; but while this short conversation was passing, the lioness had observed us.  Raising her full round face, she overhauled us for a few seconds, and then set off at a smart canter toward a range of mountains some miles to the northward; the whole troop of jackals also started off in another direction; there was therefore no time to think of caps.  The first move was to bring her to bay, and not a second was to be lost.  Spurring my good and lively steed, and shouting to my men to follow, I flew across the plain, and, being fortunately mounted on Colesberg, the flower of my stud, I gained upon her at every stride.  This was to me a joyful moment, and I at once made up my mind that she or I must die.  The lioness soon after suddenly pulled up, and sat on her haunches like a dog, with her back toward me,