A TRAVELLER’S DRINXING-VESSEL. 
421 
African hunter are great, that is, if he really follows 
up his game. I breakfasted yesterday about 2 p.m. on a 
raw talo, a root somewhat resembling a huge potato, 
but soft, sweet, and moist. Had a most refreshing 
drink of water out of the paunch of a quagga, a 
horrid thing to drink out of, and which requires 
great skill, but, notwithstanding, it is the very best 
thing one can carry water in, as evaporation takes 
place, and though the sun is burning hot, the water 
is remarkably cool and good. In any other water 
utensil it would be as hot as charcoal. There is a 
bonny medley of things lying around my wagon — 
heads and horns of all descriptions ; lions’ and 
wolves’ skulls ; ostrich eggs; jackal and wild-cat 
skins; koodoo, tsessebe, wildebeest, springbuck, 
rhinoceros horns and ears; great lumps of salt; 
dry flesh hanging up; rheims, neck-straps, and 
yokeskeys ; guinea-fowls, ducks and geese, pheasant 
and partridge feathers in all directions ; rabbit-skins 
without number; pots, pans, dog-meat ; ostrich 
feathers ; buffalo and eland hide. This is what I 
cast my eyes on from where I now sit; such a chaos 
I never beheld. 
Nov. A.th . — I think it is Sunday, but every¬ 
thing is so monotonous, I have nothing to mark the 
flight of time, and I may just as likely be out of 
my reckoning as not. No news of the missing 
wagon. The old saying, 6 ill news flies fast,’ is rather 
consoling to me, as I now really begin to think there 
has been some foul play somewhere. I place every 
