The Sun.
London, England, 1856-04-28 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

The Lion-Hunter of South Africa. By Roualeyan
Gordon Cumming. John Murray, Albemarle-
street.
It is seldom that we look on any cheap edition
which comes before us with ungracious feelings ;
but we are obliged to confess, after having glanced
at Mr. Cumming's book, reduced in form and
price from the two original volumes—we are obliged
to confess, we repeat, that this glance at the con-
tents has so operated on our common-place nerves
that we cannot give it a welcome as a valuable
auxiliary to the useful and pleasing legion of cheap
works now presented to the public. Yet we are
not fastidious in our hunting tastes. We have not
shrunk from flinging a harpoon in the Northern
waters, nor from cracking a rifle in the Indian
jungle. Sport is a noble and inspiring excitement
for men, provided the sport be indulged in for the
oecasioual love of that excitement, or for the neces-
sary commercial supplies of civilisation ; but when it
is evident that a savage love of blood, and ferocious
monomania for killing, rather than any real view
to temperate change of pursuit, or profitable
traffic, impel a human being to wage wanton
and systematic slaughter against the brute crea-
tion, the question may occur whether the ma-
jestic quadrupeds—preying and slaying from hun-
ger and instinct only—are not allied to almost as
elevated a race as the self-elected butcher of them.
Me. Cumming must, indeed, be a wonderful
hero, if all related in his adventures he true. Our
latent hope is that the mighty modern Nimrod
has put a fabulous account upon the booksellers'
counters to test how much the appetite of novelty-
devourers will swallow of monstrous invention and
unwholesome imaginative stimulant. We trust
that he has only wished to resuscitate the curdling
horror experienced in our Story Book days—turn-
ing himself into the merciless " Bluebeard"—mak-
Mg Southern Africehis "Secret Chamber," and tak-
ing lions, tigers, leopards, rhinoceroses, antelopes,
giraffes, wolves, hyenas, ostriches, and endless
others of the God-created things for his wives.
The Fatimas of curiosity will find the key to the
territie_scene iu Mr. Cumming's work, and whether
they drop it, as the lady of old did, or not, we
think they will find it unpleasantly marked with
sanguinary stains. We fear we may touch the
weakness of some of our tender-hearted readers ;
but in support of the opinion we have advanced,
we give a moderate specimen of the author's de-
scriptive power, and his decided manner of secur-
ing his game :
" I soon found fresh spoor,- and after holding on for
several miles came, just, as the sun was going down, upon
the fresh lairs of four hippopotami. They had been lying
asleep on the margin of the river, and hearing me come
crackling through the reeds, plunged into the deep water.
lat once saw that they ware newly started, for the froth
and bubbles were still on the spot where they had dashed
in; and next moment I heard them blowing a little way
down the river. I then headed them, but with consider.
able difficulty, owing to the cover and the reeds, and at
length came down right above where they were standing.
It was a broad part of the stream, with a sandy bottom,
and the water came half-way up their sides; there wore
three cows and an old bull, and, though alarmed, they did
not appear aw ere of the extent of the impending danger.
" I took the sets-cow next me, and with my first ball
gave her a mortal wound, knocking loose the great plate
on the top of her skull, when she commenced plunging
round and round, add then occasionally remained still,
sitting for a few minutes on the same spot. On hearing
the report of my rifle two of the others took up stream,
and the fourth dashed down the river, trotting along at a
smart pace, like oxen, as long as the water was shallow. I
was now in a st ate of very great anxiety about my wounded
sea-cow, for I feared that she wound got into deep water,
and bo lost like the two last. To settle the matter, there •
fore, I fired a second shot from the bank, which, entering
the roof of her skull, passed out through her eye ; after
which she kept constantly splashing round and round in a
circle in the middle of the river. I had great fears of the
crocodiles, and did not know whether the sea-cow might
not attack use ; my anxiety to secure her, however, over-
came all hesitation, so, divesting myself of my leathers,
arid armed with a sharp knife, I dashed into the water,
which at first took me up to my arm-pits, but tee middle
was shallower.
"Ac I approached Behemoth I halted for a moment,
ready to dive under the water if she attacked me ; but
though her e)e looked very wicked, she was stunned, and
did not know what she was doing ; so, running in upon
her, and seizing her short tail, I attempted to incline her
course to land. It was extraordinary what enormous
strength she still had in the water ; I could not guide her
in the slightest degree, and she continued to splash, plunge,
and blow, and make her circular course, carrying me along
with her, as if I was a fly on her tail. Finding this gavo
me but a poor hold, I took out nay knife, and, as the only
means of securing her, cut two deep parallel incisions
through the skin on her stern, and lifting this skin from
the flesh, so that I could get in my two hands, I made use
of it as a handle ; and alter some desperate hard work,
sometimes pushing and sometimes pulling, the sea-cow
continuing her circular course all the time, and I holding
on like grim Death, eventually succeeded in bringing this
gigantic and most powerful animal to the bank. My Bush-
man now brought me a stout buffalo-rheiin from my
horse's neck, which I passed through the opening in the
thick skin, and moored Behemoth to a tree ; I then sent
a ball through the centre of her head, and she was num-
bsred with the dead."
Mr. Cumming's delight at his murdering the
h treeless and beautiful giraffes is something quite
refreshing. Our readers may like to know how he
managed one of them :
" The ground was firm and favourable for riding, at
every stride I gained upon the giraffes, and after a short
burst at a swingeing gallop was in the middle of them, and
turned the finest cow out of the herd ; finding herself
driven from her co nradee and hotly pursued, she increased
her pace, and cantered alone with tremendous stridem,
clearing an amazing extent of ground at every bound,
while her neck and breast, coining in contact with the dead
old branches of the trees, were continually strewing them
in my path. In a few minutes I was riding within five
yards of her stein, and, firing at the gallop, sent a bullet
into her back ; increasing my pace, I next rode alongside,
and, placing the muzzle of my rifle within a few feet of
her, fired my second shot behind the shoulder—the ball,
however, seemed to have little effect. I then placed my-
self directly in front, when she came to a walk, and dis-
mounting, I hastily loaded both barrels, putting in a
double charge of powder ; but before I was ready she was
off at a canter. In a short time I brought her to a stand
at fifteen yards in the dry bed of a watercourse, and fired,
aiming where I thought the heart lay, upon which she again
started ; having reloaded, I followed, and had very nearly
lost her, for she turned abruptly to the left, and was far
out of sight among the trees. Once more I brought her to
a stand, and dismounting, gazed in wonder at ker extreme
beauty, while her soft dark eye, with its silky fringe,
looked down imploringly at me : I really felt a ping of
sorrow in this moment of triumph for the blood I was
shedding ; but the sporting feeling prevailed, and pointing
my rifle towards the skies, I sent a bullet through her
neck. On receiving it, she reared high on her hind legs
and fell backwards with a heavy crash, making the earth
shako around her—a thick stream of dark blood spouted
far from the wound, her colossal limbs quivered for a mo-
ment, and she expired."
Wo will not dwell longer on the particular
doings of one capable of " bagging" his elephant
bulls, " knocking over" his lions," and " bringing
down" his rhinoceroses as schoolboys other cob-
nuts—by hundreds. We mast mention, however,
that Mr. Cumming had a huge horse, called " The
Immense Brute," which surely claims some Imin-
ourable introduction to the admiring world. May
3
we suggeet to the nighty LionTonunter, who
now presides over a London Exhibition,
lie has done and seen, that it would b telling all
e doing a
consistent thing if he had the cognomen of the
dumb slave legibly printed and placed as a badge
on the breast of the master.

Tit! Lion-Killer. By Jules Gerard. Lambert
and Co., New Oxford street.
Here we have another " lion" volume, by a
Frenchman, fit to take, its place by the side of
any " extraordinary ' and " wonderful " book of
adventures-whether that book be "Jack the
Giant-Killer or
." Gulliver's Travels." There is
an amount of eplsodial matter in Mons. Gerard's
relations which rather ameliorates the savage de-
tails of rifle and bullet performance, and causes us
to look upon the production as a sort of African
" Nights Entertainments." Fables and tales of
pleasant character are introduced, having purpose
and point about them. In fact, we consider M.
Gerard's work as a regular romance. He makes
most of his victim-lions breakfast on lovely women,
dine on honest men, " thaw up" whole herds
of horses, oxen, mules, and sheep, and commit the
extreme of desolating mischief, before they are
" rolled over" by his " well-placed" bullet. We
meet with pot lion-cubs carried home in his
pocket, anecdotes of marauding robbers who are
taught to behave themselves properly, delicate
young brides within a foot of a lion's fangs, and all
kinds of astonishing and startling incidents. Wa
are not constitutionally given to this class of read,
ing ; but were we compelled to choose for our own