474 
THE YOUNG VULTURE. — HARES. 
19 Nov. 
wrapped up in white wool. As the old bird was not seen, it is not 
quite certain to what species it belonged, but it was very probably 
the Percnopterus. I took this ill-fated bird home, with the intention 
of bringing it up tame, and for a few weeks it seemed to thrive ; but 
depending on Philip, whom I appointed to feed it, I was often de- 
ceived, and told that it had been fed, when it had eaten nothing fQr 
a day or two. At length, after keeping it a month, it died ; and I 
then discovered, too evidently, the proofs of its having been starved. 
I reproached the Hottentot, not so much for his neglect of the task 
he had undertaken, as for his want of feeling for the bird ; but he 
stood unmoved at all I could say on his cruelty ; and I saw that all 
the eloquence of man would not have touched his sensibility, for he 
had none. I might have done as much good by talking to one of 
the wheels of my waggon, and should have felt much less irritated. 
Hares were now and then started from the bushes by our dogs. 
This animal is here as timid and as fleet as in Europe ; and the dogs 
seem as much its natural enemies, coursing it down with a determined 
eagerness, as if only for the pleasure of killing it. 
We passed a spot of small extent, where the rock, that here and 
there protruded through the grass, had much appearance of being 
volcanic, and was accompanied by a quantity of what seemed, as we 
drove past, to be lava and slag. The country in the vicinity pre- 
sented no other rocks of the same complexion, nor bore any marks 
of the action of fire : neither was there at the spot any remarkable 
rising or mound resembling such as are thrown up by volcanic erup- 
tions. Not far from this place, there are, as I was informed, three 
small conical hills standing in the plain, which are regarded as 
a singularity, on account of the rock-crystals found there in great 
abundance. 
After a day's journey of six-and-twenty miles, we arrived at 
Klaarwater ; when our party separated, each betaking himself to his 
own abode. But to me, every spot on which my waggon stood, was 
home : there was my resting-place ; there was my abode. Few as 
were the comforts of such a dwelling, and though they might be 
such as the luxurious would think very little deserving of that name, 
