There is not yet much of autumn colouring in the foliage of the trees: a few bright patches on the elm and beech contrast with the deep hue of firs and oaks, and show us that the varied colours of the season are in preparation. The song of birds is heard more frequently during this than in the last month: their tones, however, are subdued and almost plaintive, and we may easily imagine them to be pouring forth a long farewell to the departing summer. The common swallow leaves us at the latter end of the❘ month, as do several other soft-billed birds. They seek a more genial climate, in which to pass the winter months; while birds from more northerly countries, arrive here to supply their place, and to avoid the rigour of a season still more severe than ours. The field-fare and red-wing are among the latter, and these subsist chiefly on the abundant supply of berries which our woods and hedge-rows afford. Sir Humphry Davy well remarks: "This instinct, which gives the swallow his appointed seasons, and which teaches him always when and where to move, may be regarded as flowing from a Divine source: he belongs to the oracles of nature, which speak the awful and intelligible language of a present Deity."

When Autumn scatters his departing gleams,
Warn'd of approaching winter, gather'd play
The swallow-people; and toss'd wide around,
O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift
The feather'd eddy floats; rejoicing once,
Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire;
In clusters clung, beneath the mould'ring bank,
And where, unpierced by frosts, the cavern sweats*.
Or rather into warmer climes convey'd,
With other kindred birds of season, there
They twitter cheerful, till the vernal months
Invite them welcome back.-THOMSON.

The commencement of this month is hailed by sportsmen as the season dedicated to the pleasures of the field. The destruction of animal life throughout the season is immense, and our tables are in this way supplied with many delicacies. It is to be regretted, however, that so much of cruelty is mingled with these pleasures, and that it should ever have become sport to a dignified and intellectual being, to "torment ere he destroys" his unoffending prey.

If we turn from the open fields to the gardens and cultivated grounds, we find a rich display of ripe fruits, and a tolerable remainder of flowers and flowering shrubs. Wall-fruit sends forth its fragrant odour, and thus attracts the attention of the busy swarms of flies, bees, and wasps. Orchards are embellished with their rich and useful produce, which towards the end of the month is gathered in, and stored for winter use, or converted into cider and perry. In favourable situations the vine hangs out its white or purple clusters in tempting profusion. Through the care of those who apply themselves to the art of rearing and varying our garden-flowers, we have still a pleasing variety surrounding our dwellings. The more conspicuous of these are the china-aster, the climbing convolvulus, the handsome dahlia, and the glowing scabious, while among flowering shrubs we notice the Althea frutex, the arbutus, laurustinus, &c. The saffron-plant, (Crocus sativus,) is now in blossom, and it is therefore the season for gathering its peculiar product. This plant was formerly much cultivated in England, as it still is in the south of Europe, for medicinal purposes. The only parts of the plant used in the preparation of saffron are the orange-coloured stigmas, which are carefully separated from the flower as soon as it

*The poet here alludes to the fancy of some of our old naturalists, that swallows pass the winter in holes below the surface of the water,

begins to blow, dried on a kiln by a lengthened process, and either formed into cakes, or used in their loose and separate state, in which latter case they form what is called hay-saffron. The flowers of the saffron-plant as well as of the common autumn crocus, (Colchicum autumnale,) come up before the leaves, and look too delicate and fragile to bear the chilliness of autumn. Speaking of the compensatory system observable throughout nature, Dr. Paley says, with reference to the autumn crocus:

its

I have pitied this poor plant a thousand times. blossom rises out of the ground in the most forlorn condition imaginable, without a sheath, a fence, a calyx, or even a leaf to protect it; and that not in the spring, not to be visited by summer suns, but under all the disadvantages of the declining year. When we come, however, to look more closely into the structure of this plant, we find that nature has gone out of her course to provide for its security, and to make up to it for all its defects. The seed-vessel, which in other plants is situated within the cup of the flower, or just beneath it, in this plant lies under ground within the bulb. The tube of the flower extends down to the root. The germ grows up in the spring, upon a footstalk, accompanied with leaves: the seeds have thus the benefit of the summer, and are sown upon the surface. The order of vegetation externally is thus: the plant produces its flowers in September; its leaves and fruit in the spring following."

Several species of fungi still appear in the meadows. These singular productions are said to exhaust the ground on which they grow, and in the course of time to occasion those remarkable-looking circles, called "fairy rings," which are common in many of our pastures.

Acorn and beech-nuts now fall from the trees, and in woods and forests afford a plentiful supply of food for swine. They are both called mast, and for six weeks during the autumn are greedily devoured by the numerous herds collected together for that purpose. The swineherd agrees with the farmers to take charge of their hogs, at a shilling a head, or thereabouts, and will frequently collect the animals to the number of six hundred. He then drives them to the forest, where he has previously enclosed a place for their reception beneath some spreading tree. He feeds and litters them there for a few days, occasionally allowing them liberty, and driving them to some stream or pool. He accustoms them to feed to the sound of a horn, and thus has the means of calling them together when he pleases; and after a while he throws his stye open, and allows them to cater for themselves. They still maintain their orderly demeanour, and return regularly home at night, thus proving that it is possible to subject even their despised race to a state of discipline and obedience. delightful work, GILPIN's Forest Scenery, the management of herds of swine, during their residence in the woods, is treated of in a very amusing manner.

In that

At this period of the year the very singular sight occasionally presents itself of showers of gossamer, falling from the upper regions of the air, and covering trees and plants with a beautiful transparent veil. The vast number of insects employed in weaving these fairy webs is almost incredible, and the aeronautic expedition thus performed by them forms one of the most curious facts in natural history.

In this month we frequently meet with the cast-off skins of snakes, so perfect in all their parts that even the outer skin of the eyes remains in the sockets. The reptile entangles itself amidst grass and weeds, the better to accomplish its purpose, and by means of friction gets rid of the skin, by rubbing it back from the head, and leaving it in an inverted form.

The period of the autumnal equinox, which happens on the 22nd of September, is generally one of rough and

stormy weather. The countries beneath the equator have the sun vertical to them, and glow with a refulgent brightness that scarcely knows a shadow. The comparative nearness of the earth to the sun at this period produces a swelling of the tides, and the changes of the tide appear to affect the atmospheric currents, so that we almost invariably find the spring and autumn equinoxes to bring with them heavy gales, accompanied with much rain.

During this and the last month great numbers of persons leave their inland residences, to seek health, pleasure, and refreshment, in the vicinity of the sea. There, relaxing awhile from the fatigues of business or of study, those who have minds capable of appreciating what is most grand and beautiful in nature find abundant sources of gratification. To such it is most delightful to wander along the bending line of shore on a cloudless autumn day, and watch the heaving of the billows beneath the bright blue sky, and the glowing green of the wide expanse, save where it terminates in foamy surf, and sparkling in the sunbeams displays a thousand prismatic hues; to observe the numerous flocks of ocean, the sea-gulls rising and falling upon the waves, the cormorants winging their lofty flight, and plovers wheeling round and round, and uttering their note of joy. To such the language of a favourite poet will perhaps embody some of their ideas of that sublime spectacle, the

Ocean:

Beautiful, sublime, and glorious,
Mild, majestic, foaming, free-
Over time itself victorious,
Image of Eternity.

Sun and moon and stars shine o'er thee;
See thy surface ebb and flow;
Yet attempt not to explore thee
In thy soundless depths below.

Whether morning splendours steep thee
With the rainbow's glowing grace,
Tempests rouse or navies sweep thee
'Tis but for a moment's space.
Earth-her valleys and her mountains,
Mortal man's behests obey;

Thy unfathomable fountains

Scoff his search, and scorn his sway.

Such thou art, stupendous ocean!
But if overwhelmed by thee,
Can we think, without emotion,
What must thy Creator be?

A rapid change is frequently effected in the face of nature during the last week of September, in consequence of the rough winds and storms prevalent at that period. The remaining fruit is scattered from the trees, flowers are drenched with rain, and levelled with the earth, and many a noble tree is often laid low, or deprived of some of its massive arms. The scene of devastation, thus resulting from a few days of rough weather, seems to hasten the approach of winter, and to bring us at once to the very threshold of that dreary season. Yet we may expect some sunny days in the coming month, and a very lively and varied colouring of the landscape, before the general "fall of the leaf" takes place.

The name of this month implies that it is the seventh instead of the ninth month of the year: this arises from the period of the year's commencement having been changed from March to January. The 29th day of September was superstitiously dedicated to St. Michael in former times: hence arises the term Michaelmas-day, and hence are named two or three flowers appearing about this time.

THE rising sun in beauty shone
Upon thy fragrant fields, Ceylon,
Along whose path, at break of day,
A weary TRAVELLER took his way.
He paused; for midst the neighbouring glade,
A suffering creature sued for aid!
And there, within the hedge-row's bound,
An ADDER lay, while gathering round,
Devouring flames, with furious breath,
Stopped its escape, and threatened death.

The soft appeals of pity steal,

Like dews from heaven, on hearts that feel,
What though the sufferer be our foe,
Shall we refuse assistance? No.
Our Traveller could not: but his hand,
Accomplishing his soul's command,
Slung to his lance's point a sack,
Which lay across his camel's back,
Then safely lodged the trembling thing
Within its friendly covering;

Nor ceas'd his care; but gently laid
His charge beneath a palm-tree's shade,
Where cooling breezes soothed its pain,
Till life and vigour came again.
"Now," said the Traveller, "thou art free;
And, oh! I pray thee, learn from me
In friendly acts delight to find;
Do thou show pity, and be kind.
Remember that with all his power
Man helped thee in misfortune's hour;
Forget not then the generous deed,
Nor harm him in the time of need!"

Ah! who can stand before the mood
Of hard and cold ingratitude!
How cursed the soil whereon is grown
The bitter fruit of kindness sown:
How marked with infamy the fruit
Which stains the spring that bathed its root!
"Think'st thou," the adder cried, "to force
My nature from its destined course?
Or by this little act of grace
To claim my pity for thy race?
See the returns dispensed by man
To those who serve him all they can:
Ask yonder Cow, which morn and night
Yields up her milk for man's delight,
Why, when those useful streams have ceased,
Man dooms to death the hapless beast?
The Tree, whose bending boughs produce
Its healthful fruits for human use,
When age decays, or blights assail,
And all its former glories fail,
Then feels the axe, the saw, the plane,
And tossed upon the raging main,
Like banished hopes and comforts wrecked,
Gives mournful proof of man's neglect.
What do I then but imitate
Thy boasted race in deeds of hate,
Whilst I my poison-fangs prepare
For thee, and for thy camel there?"
"One moment," said the Traveller, "stay,
And then let any creature say,
If these be facts entirely true,

Or strong exceptions urged by you."

"Well be it so; a Fox draws near;
Let him our mutual difference hear;
I will myself the case recite;
Our friend is sure to judge aright."

"First," said the wary Fox, "relate The opening of this strange debate."

Then when he heard how it befell, And saw the sack, he pondered well."Pshaw !" he exclaimed, "this bag's too small, To hold the Adder, tail and all. The trial's plain; my doubts are strong; Prove, if you can, my notion wrong!' !"

"Lo," said the Adder, wriggling in, "What say you now! and who's to win ?" "Win !" cried the Fox, without a pause, "The law of truth, the righteous cause!" Then at its mouth the sack he tied,

And beat the Adder till it died.- M.

ON POISONS AND THEIR ANTIDOTES.

HAVING given some account of poisons and secret poisoning (pp. 71 and 77), a few words respecting antidotes will not be misplaced here; for if more correct ideas were generally held respecting them, the interval which elapses before medical aid can be procured might be profitably employed. The ideas of the ancients were so vague upon the subject that we must consider antiidotes, in the true sense of the word, entirely of modern discovery. They are of two kinds: 1st, those acting chemically, which, by combining with the poison, change its composition, or diminish its solubility, and thus render it inert; 2nd, those acting physiologically, by exciting a new action in the system, which thus neutralizes or counteracts that produced by the poison. The latter are few in number and of very doubtful application, and it is upon them that the ancients relied, while the former are frequently, when applied in time, of undoubted efficacy, and are those in which the moderns place their chief confidence.

We will now enumerate the proper antidotes for some of the more common poisons. When the strong mineral acids, or oxalic acid, have been swallowed, chalk or magnesia should be given, and if neither of these are at hand, a substitute may be found by breaking down the plaister from the walls of the apartment, or the drinking soap-suds. Corrosive sublimate is best met with albumen, and this is found in its purest state in white of eggs, which should therefore be abundantly given; or if they cannot be procured, flour and water, or lastly milk, must be substituted. Tartar emetic requires decoction of bark or nutgalls, or strong tea. Verdigris is best treated by white of egg, and afterwards by plenty of sugar or syrup. The effects of sugar of lead are prevented by the immediate administration of Epsom or Glauber salts. As regards arsenic, the first object is to remove from the stomach the greatest possible quantity of the poison by vomiting. For this purpose watery drinks are improper, because they dissolve the arsenic, which in consequence is more readily absorbed; but let oil be administered, which will not dissolve the arsenic, and promote its action by tickling the throat with the finger or a feather. Above all procure as soon as possible some peroxide of iron: this drug is the subcarbonate of iron of the shops; it is called ferrisesqui-oxydum in the last London Pharmacopeia, and is always to be had cheap and in large quantities in every chemist's shop. The persons poisoned with arsenic should be gorged with warm water, into which several ounces of this peroxide of iron have been stirred. It is a reddish-brown powder, resembling the rust of iron, (which indeed it is,) and is nearly tasteless: this enters into combination with the arsenic, and forms a harmless mixture. The warm water in which the peroxide of iron is given occasions vomiting, and it

only remains for a medical practitioner to subdue the inflammation caused by the temporary action of the arsenic upon the stomach. We have no direct antidote for opium, and vinegar, which was formerly used, is now known to be hurtful prior to the removal of the poison from the stomach, as it increases its solubility; but after that has taken place, it, as well as strong coffee, is useful in counteracting the remaining effects. The other grand object besides the administration of antidotes is the causing the stomach to evacuate its contents by vòmiting, which may usually be accomplished by an emetic and tickling the inside of the throat with a feather. Large quantities of luke-warm water, or milk and water, should be given to excite or aid vomiting, except where oxalic acid has been swallowed, when from the very soluble nature of that poison, these fluids must be interdicted.

Of these 543

According to the parliamentary returns of coroners' inquests held in England and Wales, in 1837 and 1838, the total number of deaths from poisoning which occurred during those years, in 41 counties and 31 boroughs, was 543. No returns were made from the remaining counties and boroughs. deaths, 282 happened to males, and 261 to females; and of the whole number, 12 were caused by prussic acid, 12 by Godfrey's cordial (a preparation containto quiet infants), 19. by oxalic acid, 32 by sulphuric ing opium, and administered by mothers and nurses, acid, 175 by laudanum and opium (34 of which cases nurses, to quiet children), and 184 were occasioned were caused by over-doses given by mothers and by arsenic. The fruitful sources of all this misery education we look as the best and indeed the only are ignorance and crime, and to sound Christian true antidote of existing evils.

EFFECTS OF FEAR ON HEALTH.

AN influence, adverse to life, is that mental feebleness which renders persons perpetually solicitous about their health, effeminate and unhappy. Fixing their thoughts intensely on the functions of life, they imagine themselves sick, and soon become so; whereas undoubting confidence In moral epidemies, the physicians who are alarmed at would have been their prophylactic for preserving health. their danger, are ordinarily the first victims. Fear plunges the system into that state of debility which predisposes it to fatal impressions, while the moral force of confidence, communicating its aid to physical energy, enables it to repel contagion. I could cite many distinguished names of men, who attributed their cure, in desperate maladies, to the courage that never forsook them, and to the efforts which they made to sustain their moral fortitude. One of them pleasantly said, "I should have died like the rest, had I wished it." I have no need to say that an energetic will to recover from sickness has no point of analogy with that fearful solicitude, which the greater part of the sick experience. The latter, produced by mental feebleness, increases the inquietude, and aggravates the danger. Even indifference would be preferable. advantages of an energetic will and real force of mind, if If education had imparted to us the from infancy we had been convinced of the efficacy in this moral power, we have no means to determine that it would not have been, in union with the desire of life, an element in the means of healing our maladies.

Even if agitation and fear had not its fatal effects, in rendering us more accessible to maladies, wisdom would strive to banish them, because these depressing feelings, by anticipating agony, double our sufferings. If there could exist a rational ground for continual inquietude, it would be found in a frail constitution; but how many of the feeblest health survive those of the most vigorous and robust frames? Calculations upon the duration of life are so uncertain, that we can always make them in our favour. It may seem a paradox to say that all men are nearly of the same age, in reference to their chances of another day; but men are as confident of seeing to-morrow and the succeeding day, at eighty, as at sixteen. Such is the beautiful veil with which nature conceals from us the darkness of the future.-D

SOUTH AFRICAN ANTELOPES. I.

THE SPRING-BOK, (Antilope euchore.) THERE is no part of the globe, however arid and forbidding its aspect, that does not teem with living witnesses of the power and wisdom of the Creator. Even where nature lies wrapped in a snowy mantle for the greater portion of the year, the fish of the sea, the fowl of the air, and the creeping things of the earth, are all present: in the sandy waste, the trackless prairie, and the plains immeasurably spread, numberless are the inhabitants that live, each one after its own kind, and perform their respective parts, till man appears and has dominion over them. Some of these creatures seemed formed only to inspire terror and dismay; others appear to constitute the graceful embellishments of nature. The animals distinguished for strength and ferocity prey on those whose means of defence are small, but here there is much wise provision observable. The ferocious animals are not very numerous compared with their innocent victims; these increase and multiply to a prodigious extent, and the wild beast acts as a useful check upon their numbers, which would otherwise so diminish the vegetable produce of the earth, as to leave no sustenance for herbaceous animals. When man appears, the beast of prey owns his supremacy and flees before him,-the creatures which once formed the food of the wild beast now form part of the food as well as the clothing of man, who performs the same part in checking the increase without exterminating the race. Such is in few words the history of the first colonization of a country: ferocious animals prepare the desert for man,-man goes to inhabit it,-beasts of prey disappear,-and the harmless animals remain, ministering to the wants and comforts of him who hath dominion over them.

Among the inhabitants of the desert, the antelope tribe has ever been conspicuous for beauty, symmetry, and elegance: the pallah of Africa, the gazelle of Asia, the chamois of Europe, are all included in this tribe, as well as other varieties. We propose in the present paper to describe one variety of antelope found in South Africa, and called the SPRING-BOK.

The spring-bok (springing-goat) is called also by the Dutch settlers in South Africa the pronk-bok (showy goat), and by the Hottentots Tesbé. It is generally about four feet and a half in length, by nearly two and a half in height. The hair, which is generally long, sleek, and shining, is of a beautiful light cinnamon colour on the back, sides, shoulders, neck, and thighs, and of a snowy white on the other parts of the body; the cinnamon colour and the white being separated on the flanks by a band of a reddish colour, The head, face, cheeks, and chin are almost entirely white, with the exception of a brown line on each side, extending from the eye to the corner of the mouth, and of a mark of the same colour in the middle of the face. The neck is long and slender, and slightly compressed at the sides; the tail small, round and naked, with the exception of a bunch of black hair, extending along the tail, and terminating in a tuft; the legs are, in proportion to the size of the animal, remarkably long and slender; and the hoofs small, black, and of a triangular form. The horns are round, black, and surrounded by annular ridges or rings, from the base nearly to the point: on emerging from the head, they spread backwards and outwards in a bold curve, and then turn inwards towards their inner extremities, the horn itself being slightly twisted on its own axis. The eyes are large and lively, and of a brownish colour: the ears are long, small, and cylindrical at their root, widening in the middle

and terminating in a narrow point. There is one peculiar character which distinguishes the spring-bok from every other species of antelope. Along the top of the loins, from about the middle of the back to the tail, are two folds or duplications of the skin, occasioned by the quantity of skin being much more than is necessary to cover that part of the body: the portions of this skin which are seen when the animal is at rest, are of the same cinnamon colour as the back; but the concealed or folded part is of the most brilliant snowy whiteness. When the animal is taking those leaps or jumps from which it derives its name, the folds become expanded, and form a broad circular mark of the purest white, extending round the hips.

The spring-bok resides in countless flocks on the arid plains of the interior of South Africa, seldom approaching those districts which are inhabited, unless in seasons of great drought, when, through the drying up of the pools, and the scorching of the pastures by the excessive heat, the flocks are compelled to migrate in search of food. The spots which they usually occupy, southward of the Orange river, although destitute of the permanent springs necessary for the support of human beings, have numerous stagnant pools of water,-brackish and unpleasant to the human palate,but welcome to the spring-boks; but once in three, four, or five years, these pools become dried up, and the migration to which we allude takes place. The effects of this migration are described by intelligent and credible writers as being in the highest degree novel and surprising. Their numbers are so vast that the united force of the whole is irresistible. The foremost animals of the mighty host are fat, and the rear ones meagre and lean, owing to the utter consumption of all the herbage and water that may be met with by the former, before the latter can arrive at it: at the return, after the rainy season, fair play ensues, by the last becoming first.

The reader may naturally inquire what is the effect of this startling arrival of hungry spring-boks, on the cultivated fields of the colony, and will not be surprised to hear that it is dreaded by the farmers. Capt. Stockenstrom remarks that it is scarcely possible for a person passing over some of the extensive tracks of the interior, and admiring the elegant spring-boks thinly scattered over the plains, and bounding in playful innocence, to figure to himself that these ornaments of the deserts can often become as destructive as a swarm of locusts. The migrations are called by the Dutch settlers trek-bokken, and when one such is at hand, the grazier considers himself entirely dispossessed of his lands until the approach of the rainy season. Unless the cultivated fields are enclosed by thick and high hedges, all attempts to keep out the animals avail but little; the grazier sometimes places heaps of dry manure, (the fuel of some part of the country,) close together round the fields, sets them on fire in the evening, and hopes to keep off the animals by the dense smoke thus produced; but the dawn of day generally shows him his land covered with springboks, and every atom of verdure consumed. Mr. Pringle once passed near one of these migrating flocks, and said that they literally whitened, or rather speckled the country, as far as the eye could reach, there being as many as twenty-five or thirty thousand within view at one time. Mr. Harris, likewise, in his Journey into Southern Africa, bears testimony to the same effect.

He remarks that to offer any estimate of the total numbers forming one of the trek-bokken, or migration, would be impossible: pouring down like locusts, from the endless plains of the interior, lions have been seen stalking in the middle of their com

pressed phalanx, and flocks of sheep have not unfrequently been carried away by the living torrent: cultivated fields, which in the evening appeared proud of their promising verdure, are in the course of a single night reaped level with the ground, and the despoiled grazier, is constrained to seek pasture for his flocks elsewhere, until the rainy season supplies fresh food to the spring-boks in their native spots, to which they instinctively return.

The springing movement of this animal has been remarked by all travellers who have alluded to it: at all times when impelled by fear, either of the hunter or of beasts of prey darting among the flock, but principally when the herds are assembled in countless multitudes, so that an alarm cannot spread rapidly and open the means of flight, the animals are pressed against cach other, and their anxiety to escape impels them to bound up in the air, showing at the same time the beautiful white mark round the hips. According to Mr. Burchell, it is only occasionally that the spring-boks take those remarkable leaps which have been the origin of the name; for when grazing, or moving at leisure, they walk or trot like other antelopes, or like common deer. When pursued however, or when increasing their pace, they frequently take an extraordinary bound, rising with curved or elevated backs high into the air, generally to the height of eight feet, and appearing as if about to take flight. In crossing a road or path, when moving rapidly, they will frequently clear it at one leap, extending even to twenty-five feet: this they will even do when there is no apparent danger near; but it seems as if the fear of a snare, or a natural disposition to regard man as an enemy, induces them to mistrust even the ground which he has trodden.

Both old and young spring-boks furnish excellent venison; and vast numbers are destroyed by the Dutch farmers, not only for the sake of the flesh, but also for the skins, of which they make sacks for holding provisions and other articles, and clothing for their slaves. A good marksman among these Dutch settlers will kill from twenty to thirty spring-boks every time he goes out: he lies concealed among the

thickets near the springs or pools of water which the
animals frequent at the close of the day to quench
their thirst; and by firing among them his enormous
gun, loaded with several bullets, he often brings down
four or five at one shot. No dog can attempt to
approach the old spring-boks; but the young kids
are frequently caught after a hard chase. Mr. Pringle
states that the spring-bok is easily tamed when caught
young, and that he has seen it, in several places,
reared as a plaything for the children at the farms
of the colonists,-sometimes playing like a pet-lamb
about the doors among the numerous swarms of dogs
and poultry,-in other instances accompanying the
flocks of sheep and goats to pasture, and returning
as regularly and quietly as the rest. The same
gentleman judiciously remarks, that such facts demon-
strate how easy it would be, with a little care and
management, to enlarge the list of domesticated ani-
mals, by adding to them many species of such as are
at present considered the most shy and impracticable.
In conclusion we may state that the spring-bok is
reckoned by some naturalists as the most graceful in
its proportions, and beautifully varied in its colours,
of all the antelope tribe: indeed it is difficult to con-
ceive a quadruped more light and airy in form, more
delicate in its proportions, or whose movements are
executed with more natural ease and grace.
It is a
fitting animal to find a place in Mr. Pringle's lines:-
Afar in the desert I love to ride,

With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side,
O'er the brown karroo, where the bleating cry
Of the spring-bok's fawn sounds plaintively;
Where the zebra wantonly tosses his mane,
In fields seldom freshened by moisture or rain;
And the fleet footed ostrich over the waste
Speeds like a horseman who travels in haste;
And the vulture in circles wheels high overhead,
Greedy to scent and to gorge on the dead;
And the grisly wolf and the shrieking jackall
Howl for their prey at the evening fall;
And the fiend-like laugh of the hyænas grim
Fearfully startles the twilight dim.