JANUAR Y 87 



so he was driven through the gate, and in the morning we found 

 him dead not far away. 



By way of illustration of this story I may add that I remember, 

 when I lived in Pretoria, another instance of a horse belonging to 

 an acquaintance, which, on feeling itself mortally stricken with 

 sickness, came and pawed at the door of his house. Also, the 

 animal of which I have spoken, Moresco, was an exception among 

 his kind they say that every man owns one perfect beast in his 

 life, and Moresco was mine. It is by no means wise, however, 

 always to trust to the instinct of horses, and especially to their sup- 

 posed faculty of finding their way home upon a dark night. Once 

 I did this near Maritzburg, in Natal, with the result that presently 

 I found myself, with the horse, at the bottom of a stone-pit ! 



To return to the case of the oxen. Although in some par- 

 ticulars they show undoubted intelligence, in many ways they 

 are great fools. Thus they seem to have no knowledge of what 

 is or is not good for them to eat. In Natal there grows a 

 herb called ' tulip,' which is almost certain death to cattle, a fact 

 with which they must have been acquainted for generations. 

 Yet they seem to eat it greedily whenever they get the chance. 

 Once I lost about twenty valuable trek-oxen from this cause alone. 

 This incident, and the tale of horse-sickness, to say nothing of the 

 recent record of rinderpest, will show the reader that farming 

 in South Africa is not without its risks. Indeed, I am acquainted 

 with no country where the waste of animal life is so constant and 

 tremendous, although doubtless as the land becomes enclosed and 

 proper buildings and winter food are provided it will greatly lessen. 



Returning to the Home Farm after watching the funeral pro- 

 cession of the departed ox, I found the pork-butcher, who had ar- 

 rived there to execute a pig. He informed me that he had cured 

 blown cattle by giving them salt and water, and drawing a sack 

 over their heads, making it fast about their necks. The salt and 

 water might do something, but I confess that I do not understand 

 the sack. Another local recipe is to shut them up in a loose-box, 

 exclude all air, and heap sacks upon them. My own opinion is 



