I was disappointed at the small quantity of game we found on our journey.  We occasionally shot a springbok, and I thus had an opportunity of making myself acquainted with the delicious flavour of the South African venison.  But the days of the enormous herds which once abounded in these regions are gone.  They have been either exterminated by the Boers, or been driven far northward, into the interior of Africa, together with the lions and elephants, over whose former habitation I was travelling.  There are still a good many koodoos, and hartebeestes in this neighbourhood, but I was not fortunate enough to come across them.  Our commissariat was occasionally supplemented by a delicious bird, about the size of a pheasant, called the kooran, as well as by a few pheasants, partridges, and guinea fowls.

One afternoon we were exposed to a thrilling adventure, which, but for the merciful interposition of Providence, might have terminated in a most disastrous way.  Suddenly, as we were driving along the road, through a dense wood, we discovered to the right of us the light of an immense bush fire.  It was careering wildly along, fiercely burning, and sweeping everything before it.  We saw it was coming swiftly towards the road we were travelling.  We pulled up the horses, and taking out lucifer matches, jumped off the wagon, and tried to set alight to the grass, which was about five or six feet high, and very dry, close by us, in order to secure a clear open space around us.  But it was too late.  The fierce fire, to the height of several feet, was rushing and crashing through the wood furiously towards us.  Another moment, and we should have been within its terrible grasp, and wagon, horses, and ourselves infallibly burnt.  It was in truth an awful crisis.  We jumped back into the wagon and pushed frantically forward.  Showers of sparks were already in the road.  But, fortunately, the fire, which for a full half mile was burning behind us, was only a short distance in front of us, and, thank God, we happily escaped.

One of the great advantages I have derived from my tour is, that I have had many opportunities of communicating personally with so many men of different races, and all classes—­British, Dutch, and natives.

During my present journey I had a most interesting conversation one morning with a transport driver, who was travelling by the northern part of the Transvaal, with three hundred lean cattle from the Cape Colony into Bechuanaland.  He gave me some very valuable and important information with regard to Colonial feeling in the country districts of the Cape Colony.  He was Colonial born, and a fine, handsome man of about forty—­a descendant of the Scotch farmers, who emigrated to the Cape in 1820.  His conversation impressed me much.  He told me that the Colonists generally are loyal to the Queen to the backbone; but not to the British Government, which they consider has not represented their feelings and opinions, and has sacrificed their interests.  They dislike the Colonial Government, and are not favourable to responsible Government, as they see it.