THOSE readers of ST. NICHOLAS who were so fortunate as to wander through the long aisles of the Centennial Exhibition in 1876, will perhaps remember the South African section. It sticks in my memory on account of two things: One, a small, heavy stone ring used by the savage Bushmen; and the other, the ostrich-hatching oven.

Everybody knows what an ostrich looks like,-a bird standing as high upon its legs as a pony, and holding a very small and stupid-looking head upon a neck as long as its legs. As though all the feather-material in the bird's make-up had been needed for the plumes, the whole head and neck are almost bare, being sprinkled with only a few poor bits of down and hair in place of feathers, while the legs are positively naked. Even the gaunt body is but imperfectly clothed, and the tail is ridiculously bobbed. But in two rows on the wings, and falling over the root of the tail, is a wealth of plumage that makes up for all these deficiencies,―masses of black, white, and gray feathers of large size and graceful curve, crowding one another in exquisitely soft drapery, all the

on the desert; and they were perhaps the first ornaments in the hair of those old wild ancestors of ours who lived long before written history began.

There are two sorts of ostriches,-some naturalists say more, both living in open country. One, the African "camel" ostrich, dwells in the Sahara deserts of the northern half of that continent, and in the wide dry plains at the south. The other, the "cassowary," belongs to the sterile pampas of Patagonia. Besides this, the sandy barrens of Australia have been, or are now, the homes of somewhat similar birds, of gigantic stature. Ostriches are runners. They have no wings worth mention, and can no more fly than the jackals that chase them. Hardly raising their wings, then, but only taking enormous strides with their long and muscular legs, they will outstrip any but a fast horse, and, unlike the swift antelopes, they have endurance enough to continue the race a long time. Very wary in some respects, while excessively stupid in others, ostriches can not be killed easily without stratagem, and the natives of the countries which they inhabit, therefore, prac

it is simply another bird coming up, until he is within arrow-range. When but slightly wounded, however, the ostrich is a dangerous animal to get near to, since a blow with its foot has force enough to knock a man down or to break his leg.

The Indians who inhabit the dreary, wind-swept, treeless and chilling plains of Patagonia, depend upon their ostrich for a large part of their food and clothing, and hunt it in a most exciting way. They own herds of tough and hardy ponies, that are swift of foot for a short distance, and very clever at hunting. They have also any number of fleetfooted mongrel dogs. When they discover one or two, or, rarely, a group of cassowaries, they endeavor, by creeping along behind ridges, to get as

FINDING A NEST.

near as possible to the game without alarming it. Meanwhile, they throw aside their fur capes, and detach from the saddle their bolas, ready for use. The bolas are their weapons, and consist of two or sometimes three balls of lead-frequently, simply stones-covered with leather, and united by thongs about four feet long.

When the Indian finds he can steal up no nearer to the ostrich, he spurs his horse and gives open chase. Grasping the thong of his bolas, he swings them rapidly around his head, and, as he comes close to his game, lets them fly. They strike the bird, twine around its body and legs, and throw it down. Before it can get free, the Indian has ridden up, and dispatched it with a knife or club. It requires great skill to hurl the bolas well; but when, mounted upon a wild Pampas-pony, you are racing over the breezy plains after the swift-fleeing bird and the close-pursuing hounds, you feel that nothing can stir the blood into keener action or can better be called sport.

The nests of ostriches vary greatly, though always built on the ground. Generally, a high, dry spot is selected, where there is plenty of herbage, which may be heaped into a rim around a depression scratched out by the feet. But some birds will choose a most ill-judged site, where the eggs may be drowned in a pool during the first rain-storm. Again, for some nests you must search long and closely, while others are placed in the most open positions. As a rule, it is the male that builds the nest, and he also sits the longest, and always at night, the female taking her turn during the day-time. In the care of the eggs the birds differ greatly, some being extremely anxious lest their treasures shall suffer exposure, or be interfered with, while others seem entirely careless about what may happen. So, too, one ostrich will defend his nest or young family to the last extremity of his strength, while another will desert his home or brood before an enemy in the most cowardly manner. Remembering these individual differences, one of the farmers at the Cape gave as his reason for enjoying the cultivation of the birds, that he never could make out their characters, and so was constantly amused by some novelty in their behavior.

The dozen or two eggs that are laid by the ostrich are precisely like turkeys' eggs in color, but of greater size. One would hold three pints of water or mil

let, and when fresh, they are good to eat. But to the Indian or the Bushman, these eggs are chiefly valuable for their thick shells, out of which he makes his cups and pitchers and waterjars.

In South Africa, particularly, water is extremely scarce and precious. The wild natives, therefore, empty the eggs through small holes, and