morning dragged on. It was a hot, gusty day, and I found the shelter
of my poky little room the most comfortable resting-place, although
instead of a chair I had but a wooden case to sit on. About eleven I saw
a clerical gentleman arriving, who I rightly concluded was the parson
coming to conduct the service. Presently the strangest of noises I have
ever heard arose from the back-premises of the tiny house. It is
difficult to conceive anything so grotesque as some Dutch singing is.
Imagine a doleful wail of many voices, shrill treble and deep bass, all
on one note, now swelling in volume, now almost dying away, sung with a
certain metre, and presumably with soul-stirring words, but with no
attempt to keep together or any pretensions to an air of any kind, and
you will have an idea of a Dutch chant or hymn. This noise--for it
cannot be called a harmony--might equally well be produced by a howling
party of dogs and cats. Then followed long prayers--for only the
parson's voice could be heard--then more dirges, after which it was
over, and all trooped away, apparently much edified. One of the nurses
brought me some lunch and spread it on the rickety table, with a dirty
napkin as a tablecloth. As regards the food, which these young ladies
told me they took it in turn to cook, it was very fair; only one day we
got no meat and no meal; the other days they gave me eggs, very good
beef, splendid potatoes, and bread in any quantity. Besides this, I was
able to buy delicious fruit, both figs and apricots. As beverages there
were tea and coffee, the latter, of course, being the Transvaal national
drink--that is to say, when "dop" cannot be had. Beer is almost unknown,
except the imported kinds of Bass and Schlitz, for what is known as
"Kaffir beer" is a filthy decoction. About midday I received a formal
reply from Gordon, as follows:

"MAFEKING," _December 3, 1899._

"MY DEAR SARAH,

"I am delighted to hear you are being well treated, but very
sorry to have to tell you that Colonel Baden-Powell finds it
impossible to hand over Petrus Viljoen in exchange for you, as
he was convicted of horse-stealing before the war. I fail to
see in what way it can benefit your captors to keep you a
prisoner. Luckily for them, it is not the custom of the
English to make prisoners of war of women.

"GORDON WILSON."

Of course I was grievously disappointed, but at the same time I had
really ex