28l 



LIFE ON THE HIGHT VELDT 



AND 



COUNTRY WEST OF MATABELE LAND. 



The heading that I have selected for this article 

 has been duly considered. Why I choose it, is that 

 under it I have scope to have a growl at the rising 

 generation of sportsmen. 



Half the men who hunt with foxhounds in 

 modern times do so for the sake of galloping, and 

 do not care a jack-straw whether pug is killed legi- 

 timately or not. Very much the same kind of charge 

 I might bring against the wielder of the gun, in 

 anno domini — well, the present period of my life. 



The foxhunter and the shooting man of to-day 

 are as much behind their progenitors as the liquor- 

 besotted red men of the present date are inferior to 

 those Sioux and Blackfeet who made themselves a 

 terror to every paleface that entered their hunting 

 grounds. 



A man on a three hundred guinea horse can, if 

 he lets his beast have his head, be in at the death 

 after thirty minutes of stiff going, and yet know 

 no more about hounds and hunting than a pig does 

 of a whistle. So it is with the majority of shooting 



