s, etc.

About a month after the siege started, the C.O. placed an embargo on all
food-stuffs, and the distribution of rations commenced. From then onward
special days were allowed for the sale of luxuries, but always in
strictly limited quantities. At first the rations consisted of 1-1/4
pounds of meat and 1-1/4 pounds of bread, besides tea, coffee, sugar,
and rice. As time went on these were reduced, and towards the end of
March we only had 6 ounces of what was called bread and 1 pound of fresh
meat, when any was killed; otherwise we had to be content with bully
beef. As to the "staff of life," it became by degrees abominable and
full of foreign substances, which were apt to bring on fits of choking.
In spite of this drawback, there was never a crumb left, and it was
remarkable how little the 6 ounces seemed to represent, especially to a
hungry man in that keen atmosphere.

One day it was discovered there was little, if any, gold left of the
L8,000 in specie that was lodged at the Standard Bank at the beginning
of the siege. This sum the Boers had at one time considered was as good
as in their pockets. It was believed the greater portion had since been
absorbed by the natives, who were in the habit of burying the money they
received as wages. In this quandary, Colonel Baden-Powell designed a
paper one-pound note, which was photographed on to thick paper of a
bluish tint, and made such an attractive picture that the Government
must have scored by many of them never being redeemed.

It was not till Ash Wednesday, which fell that year on the last day of
February, that we got our first good news from a London cable, dated ten
days earlier. It told us Kimberley was relieved, that Colesberg was in
our hands, and many other satisfactory items besides. What was even of
greater importance was a message from Her Majesty Queen Victoria to
Colonel Baden-Powell and his garrison, applauding what they had done,
and bidding them to hope on and wait patiently for relief, which would
surely come. This message gave especial pleasure from its being couched
in the first person, when, as was universally remarked, the task of
sending such congratulations might so easily have been relegated to one
of Her Majesty's Ministers. I really think that no one except a
shipwrecked mariner, cast away on a desert island, and suddenly
perceiving a friendly sail, could have followed our feelings of delight
on that occasion. We walked about thinking we