ish victories
constantly coming to hand, I thought this gentleman a pessimist; but the
subsequent history of the war, and the many weary months following the
conclusion of peace, proved there was much truth in the above statement.

Two days later we heard that Lord Roberts had made his formal entry into
Pretoria on June 5, but our journey thither did not proceed as smoothly
as we had hoped. We chartered a Cape cart and an excellent pair of grey
horses, and made our first attempt to reach Pretoria via the lead-mines,
the same route taken by Dr. Jameson and the Raiders. Here we received a
check in the shape of a letter from General Baden-Powell requesting us
not to proceed, as he had received information that Lord Roberts's line
of communication had been temporarily interrupted. The weather had
turned exceedingly wet and cold, like an English March or late autumn,
and after two days of inactivity in a damp and gloomy Dutch farmhouse we
were perforce obliged to return to our original starting-point, Zeerust.
A few days later we heard that Colonel Baden-Powell had occupied
Rustenburg, and that the country between there and Pretoria
was clear; so we decided to make a fresh start, and this time to take
the northern and more mountainous route. We drove through a very pretty
country, with many trees and groves of splendid oranges, and we crossed
highly cultivated valleys, with numerous farms dotted about. All those
we met described themselves as delighted at what they termed the close
of the war, and gave us a rough salutation as we went on our way, after
a friendly chat. Presently we passed an open trolley with a huge
red-cross flag flying, but which appeared to contain nothing but private
luggage, and was followed by a man, evidently a doctor, driving a
one-horse buggy, and wearing an enormous red-cross badge on his hat. At
midday we outspanned to rest the horses and eat our lunch, and in the
afternoon we crossed the great Marico River, where was situated a
deserted and ruined hotel and store. The road then became so bad that
the pace of our horses scarcely reached five miles an hour, and to
obtain shelter we had to reach Eland's River before it became quite
dark. A very steep hill had to be climbed, which took us over the
shoulder of the chain of hills, and rumbling slowly down the other side,
with groaning brake and stumbling steeds, we met a typical Dutch family,
evidently trekking back from the laager in a heavy ox waggon.