Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 3, July, 1851Various
History
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. 3, July, 1851
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
"Presently a convulsive shivering seized his limbs, his coat stood on
end, his lofty frame began to totter, and at the seventeenth discharge
from the deadly grooved bore, like a falling minaret bowing his graceful
head from the skies, his proud form was prostrate in the dust. Never
shall I forget the intoxicating excitement of that moment! At last,
then, the summit of my ambition was actually attained, and the towering
giraffe laid low! Tossing my turban-less cap into the air, alone in the
wild wood, I hurraed with bursting exultation, and unsaddling my steed,
sank, exhausted with delight, beside the noble prize that I had won.
"While I leisurely contemplated the massive form before me, seeming as
though it had been cast in a mould of brass, and wrapped in a hide an
inch and a half in thickness, it was no longer matter of astonishment
that a bullet discharged from a distance of eighty or ninety yards
should have been attended with little effect upon such amazing strength.
"Two hours were passed in completing a drawing, and Piet still not
making his appearance, I cut off the ample tail, which exceeded five
feet in length, and was measureless the most estimable trophy I had
ever gained. But on proceeding to saddle my horse, which I had left
quietly grazing by the running brook, my chagrin may be conceived when I
discovered that he had taken advantage of my occupation to free himself
from his halter and abscond. Being ten miles from the wagons, and in a
perfectly strange country, I felt convinced that the only chance of
saving my pet from the clutches of the lion, was to follow his trail;
while doing which with infinite difficulty, the ground scarcely deigning
to receive a foot-print, I had the satisfaction of meeting Piet and
Mohanycom, who had fortunately seen and recaptured the truant. Returning
to the giraffe, we all feasted merrily on the flesh, which, although
highly scented with the rank mokaala blossoms, was far from despicable,
and losing our way in consequence of the twin-like resemblance of two
scarped hills, we did not finally regain the wagons until after the
setting sunbeams had ceased to play upon the trembling leaves of the
light acacias, and the golden splendor which was sleeping upon the plain
had gradually passed away."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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