e
patients mercifully had escaped, owing to their all being in the
bomb-proof, but they had to be moved in a great hurry, and were
accommodated in the convent. For weeks past this building had not been
shot at, and it was therefore considered a safe place for them, as it
was hoped the Boer gunners had learned to respect the hospital, its near
neighbour. Owing to the rains having then begun, and being occasionally
very heavy, the bomb-proofs were becoming unhealthy. My throat was daily
getting worse, and the doctor decided that Gordon and myself had better
also be removed to the convent, hoping that being above-ground might
help recovery in both our cases. There was heavy shelling going on that
afternoon, and the drive to our new quarters, on the most exposed and
extreme edge of the town, was attended with some excitement. I could
scarcely swallow, and Gordon was so weak he could hardly walk even the
short distance we had to compass on foot. However, we arrived in safety,
and were soon made comfortable in this strange haven of rest.

As I have before written, the convent in Mafeking was from the
commencement of the bombardment picked out by the enemy as a target, and
during the first week it was hit by certainly ten or twelve projectiles,
and reduced more or less to a ruined state. At no time can the building
have laid claims to the picturesque or the beautiful, but it had one
peculiarity--namely, that of being the only two-storied building in
Mafeking, and of standing out, a gaunt red structure, in front of the
hospital, and absolutely the last building on the north-east side of the
town. It was certainly a landmark for miles, and, but for its sacred
origin and the charitable calling of its occupants, would have been a
fair mark for the enemy's cannon. Very melancholy was the appearance it
presented, with large gaping apertures in its walls, with its shattered
doors and broken windows; whilst surrounding it was what had been a
promising garden, but had then become a mere jungle of weeds and thorns.
The back of the edifice comprised below several large living-rooms, over
them a row of tiny cubicles, and was practically undamaged. The eighteen
convalescent patients had been comfortably installed on the
ground-floor, and we had two tiny rooms above. This accommodation was
considered to be practically safe from shells, in spite of the big gun
having been shifted a few days previously, and it being almost in a line
with the