GOOD-BYE. 285 



everything is tantalizingly looking its very best ; the 

 veldt, refreshed by recent rains, is of a lovely soft 

 green, and delicate flowers peep from it in all direc- 

 tions ; the dazzling sunshine — so soon to be exchanged 

 for cold northern skies — seems brighter than ever; 

 and, in the clear atmosphere of the Karroo, the bold 

 outlines of the far-off Cock's Comb are lifted up, as it 

 were, by a strange effect of mirage — the mountain 

 appearing qjiite detached from the horizon, and with 

 blue water flowing at its foot. Just before we reach 

 the turn in the road which hides the homestead of 

 Swaylands from our view, we stop and look back ; 

 and, if it must be owned, that last look at the poor 

 little ugly house — our dear home for the past few 

 years — is taken by not quite undimmed eyes. 



Then on, at a brisk pace, to Mount Stewart, where, at 

 the pleasant little hotel in which we have so often been 

 hospitably entertained, the host and his numerous 

 family are assembled in full force to bid us God-speed. 

 I take my last, wistful look at a long-coveted tame 

 Kaffir crane, a delightful bird, who, in his neat suit of 

 softest French-grey plumage, stalks solemnly — as he 

 has been doing any time these four or five years — 

 about the precincts of station and hotel ; and am intro- 

 duced to a newly-captured baby jackal, which T 



has just bought, and which is to accompany us to 

 England. Then the train, at its usual leisurely pace, 

 crawls down with us to Port Elizabeth. More good- 

 byes — and at last we and all our zoological collection 

 are safe on board the Union Company's S.S. Mexican ; 



