lesson to the white man. If they cannot consume at a meal the little lizards, locusts, etc, on which they prey, they impale them, leaving them on the thorny bushes, to return to when in need. [This is the system of the butcher-bird.] The Bushmen who have lately been exhibited in London, were described as belonging to a race of people, "caught on the banks of the Great Fish River," which is altogether a mistake, as the few Bushmen left in Africa have now gone far to the northward. The Boers beyond the Orange River know their haunts, and often supply them with game, to prevent them from stealing and destroying their sheep, for, what they cannot eat on the spot, they will kill and mutilate, in the spirit of sheer mischief. These unfortunate little beings live literally among the clefts of rocks, subsisting on locusts, roots, and anything else they can find in the eating way. A Dutch farmer, who for some time had regularly furnished a small colony of Bushmen with game, became surprised at the non-appearance of the periodical envoys for it, and therefore went up to their "dwelling-places among the conies." A wretched scene presented itself: the measles had broken out in the community, and the dead, the dying, the sick, the old and the young, men, women, and children, were all heaped together within the caves and nooks of the steep krantzes. He dragged them from their covert, but they would listen to no suggestions calculated, if acted on, to remedy or lighten the disease, and all he could do was to rescue some of the children from the pest-house in the wilderness. Unlike these Bushmen, and some other savages, the Kaffirs are most cautious in endeavouring to avoid all infections maladies; and, when the smallpox swept off the aborigines in numbers, the different tribes of the Kafirs established _cordons sanitaires_, and framed and abided by the most stringent laws of quarantine. I could write many pages on the subject of Mr Pringle's charming and admirably-planned location. I shall long think of the Bushman's haunt, the little chapel in the fertile valley, and, above all, the kindly welcome I met with at Glenthorn, but such agreeable reminiscences must be reserved for another time; these pages are dedicated to a history of war and turmoil, and I must not pause to dwell on pleasant memories connected with my journey through those mountain-ranges. None of Mr Pringle's family deserted the mansion during the war. It was made defensible, and afforded a refuge for many who dared not remain on their isolated farms. It was quite a little garrison in itself, and was never even attacked by the Kaffirs.