“I spurred on my horse, dashed ahead, and rode right in his path. Upon this, the hideous monster charged me in the most resolute manner, blowing loudly through his nostrils. Although I quickly turned about, he followed me at such a furious pace for several hundred yards, with his horrid, horny snout within a few yards of my horse’s tail, that I thought my destruction was certain. The animal, however, suddenly turned and ran in another direction. I had now become so excited with the incident, that I determined to give him one more shot any way. Nerving my horse again, I made another dash after the rhinoceros, and coming up pretty close to him, I again fired, though with little effect, the ball striking some thick portion of the skin and doing no harm. Not caring to run the chance of the huge brute again charging me, and believing that my rifle-ball was not powerful enough to kill him, I determined to give up the pursuit, and accordingly let him run off while I returned to the camp.”
XIII.—THE OLD ARM-CHAIR.
Eliza Cook.
I love it, I love it, and who shall dare
To chide me for loving that old arm-chair?
I’ve treasured it long as a sainted prize,
I’ve bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs;