Galton, and Gordon Gumming, may be
matched against the hunters and travellers
of any age or nation since the time of Marco
Polo.

Francis Galton – the son, if we mistake
not, of a respectable Birmingham banker
of Quebec descent, after having rendered
valuable services to geographical study by
his explorations of an unknown region of
Africa, in which he commenced from love of
sport, but prosecuted for the benefit of
science – has published the results of his
experience and notes from his commonplace book
in The Art of Travel in Wild Countries, for
the benefit of emigrants, missionaries, soldiers,
and all who have to rough it. In these times,
when one half our adventurous young men
are soldiers and the other half sailors or
emigrants, it may be useful to give an idea of its
contents, with a few additional hints from
other travellers and our own experience in
savage lands.

Water is one of the great wants in
travelling, and water is scarce in every hot
country where wells have not been made.
Sometimes it mut be dug for, sometimes
gathered from the cup-like leaves of great
plants. To find streams and pools, birds are
the best guides, especially towards evening.
Parrots are never far from water in hours of
drought. Bathing in brackish or even salt-
water will tend to allay thirst, and if a
thunder-shower comes on it will be well to
follow the plan of the West Indian negroes, –
strip to the skin, by which the benefit of a
refreshing shower-bath is obtained, while the
clothes, rolled up tight, are dry and ready to
put on when the shower ceases, and as is not
unfrequent in tropical countries, a cold
breeze comes on. This was the plan of
Mansfield Parkyns, a modern traveller in
Abyssinia. In South Africa, after a long chace,
the hunters will cut open the stomach of the
white rhinoceros, and some other animals, and
drink the store of water there to be found.
But the traveller must beware of the black
rhinoceros, which, like King Mithridates,
according to classic stories, feeds and thrives on
poison – the poisonous acacia-leaves. A bucket
of turbid water may be cleared by three
thimblefuls of alum, and a filter may be
made impromptu of moss, grass, and gravel,
if there be no charcoal at hand, but a few
pounds of charcoal will filter a great deal of
water. Mr. Galton gives useful advice for
carrying water in kegs or leather bottles.
For getting water out of a river or pool, with
steep banks, we have found a barrel, strongly
hooped, fitted with an axle and ring,
extremely useful. The barrel, with long traces
attached, is sunk in the river; when filled
the bung is driven in, the one or more oxen
attached to the traces, and, the barrel being
round, rolls easily up a steep bank along the
ground, however rough, to the camp. Two
of the hoops should project an inch and a
half from the barrel, so as in some degree to
protect the staves from wear and tear. This
plan is recommended to soldiers watering
from a river. The Arabs carry their leathern
water-flasks on the shady side of the camel.

Fire is as almost essential to the comfort
of a traveller as water even in tropical
countries. The morning is usually intensely cold
before daybreak. Nothing can be relied on but
flint and steel, and a burning-glass. The invaluable
lucifer may be lost, spoilt, or used up, but
we learn from Galton, that the wax-lucifers
are the best; with these there should be a
tin-saucer, or some other simple, safe
contrivance for shading from the wind, is
important. A dozen other modes of getting a
light are enumerated. The crystalline lens
of a dead animal's eye has been successfully
used as a burning-glass. Fire sticks
lighted by friction are used by savages,
but we never heard of a European who
acquired the knack. Tinder may be made
of cotton or linen rags. Amadou is a
fungus from trees dried, sliced, and boiled in
saltpetre. The ashes of a cigar, or wet
gunpowder rubbed into paper will convert it
into touch-paper. To keep anything dry, to
light either a fire or a pipe, is very difficult
when camping out during a week's rain. A
Scotch shepherd taught us to tied a small
packet of tinder under the armpit during the
rainy season in the bush. This is the plan of
Highland drovers coming south. To kindle
a spark into flame our plan was to have
ready a handful of dry grass, wrap it loosely
round the tinder, and then, taking it in one
hand, whirl it round and round at the full
length of the arm – first slowly and then
rapidly – windmill-fashion, until it bursts
into a flame; this is a surer plan than blowing
with the breath. Firewood should be
looked for under bushes. Dry manure makes
a fire, and is used for that purpose all over
the world. The Canadians call it bois de
vache. Bones make a good fire. In the
Falkland Islands they cook a bull with his
own bones and a little turf or tussock grass.
Travellers in the east carry prepared charcoal
slung in the form of large buttons, as a
necklace. Mr. Galton's golden rule is: –
Always manage to have, if possible, a good
fire towards morning.

To bivouac, or camp out, comfortably, as
Bushmen say, is a great art. "Study the
form of a hare," says Galton. "In the
flattest and most uncompromising of fields
the creature will have availed herself of some
little hollow to the lee of an insignificant
tuft of grass, and there she will have nestled
and fidgeted about till she lias made a smooth,
round grassy bed, compact and fitted to her
shape, where she may curl herself snugly up,
and cower down below the level of the cutting
wind: follow her example. A man as he lies
down is but a small object; and a screen
eighteen inches high will guard him securely
from the strength of a storm. A tree forms