el and their friends, disgorged
us at Cape Town. Our anxiety as to whether the war was over was soon
allayed, and we gaily marched, a perspiring company, to Maitland Camp.
Here amid sand and flies we began to conceive what the real thing would
be like. An extract or two from letters written while at that salubrious
spot may serve to give an idea of the life there:

"This place is a perfect New Jerusalem as regards Sheenies, every
civilian about the camp appearing to be a German Jew refugee.
They have stalls and sell soap, buns, braces, belts, &c., and so
forth. Every now and again a big Semitic proboscis appears at our
tent door, and the question 'Does anypody vant to puy a vatch' is
propounded."

Hungarian horses were drawn and quartered by our lines, and saddlery
served out. By-the-way, I have always flattered myself there was at
least one good thing about the 69th Squadron I.Y., they had excellent
saddles. The first time we turned out in full marching order was a
terrible affair, and the following may help to convey an idea of the
_tout ensemble_ of an erstwhile peaceful citizen:

"Please imagine me as an average Yeoman in full marching order.
Dangling on each side of the saddle are apparently two small
hay-ricks in nets; then wallets full, and over them a rolled
overcoat and an extra pair of boots. Behind, rolled
waterproof-sheet and army blanket, with iron picketing-peg and
rope, and mess-tin on top. Elsewhere the close observer mentally
notes a half-filled nosebag. So much for the horse, and then,
loaded with the implements of war, bristling with cartridges,
water-bottle, field-glass, haversack, bayonet and so on, we
behold the Yeoman. With great dexterity (not always) he fits
himself into the already apparently superfluously-decorated
saddle, and once there, though he may wobble about, takes some
displacing.

"I really must remark on the marvellous head for figures that we
Yeomen are expected to have. Read this. Comment from myself will
be superfluous.

"My Company number is 51.

"My regimental number is 16,484.

"My rifle and bayonet, 2,502.

"The breech-block and barrel of the rifle are numbered 4,870.

"My horse's number is 1,388.

"There may be a few more numbers attached to me; if so, I have
overlooked them."

_En passant_, I must mention we were with