ion and
Unicorn, "_Dieu et mon Droit_," and a' that. And the fit is a wonderful
fit; it is truly marvellous how they can turn out such a well-fitting
coat for--a big boy of twelve. And I have boots! A grand fit for a
policeman. Only I am neither a boy of twelve nor a policeman.

WITH CLEMENTS.

HEKPOORT,
_September 5th, 1900._

We've stood to our nags (confound them!)
We've thought of our native land;
We have cussed our English brother,
(For he does not understand.)
We've cussed the whole of creation,
And the cross swings low for the morn,
Last straw (and by stern obligation)
To the Empire's load we've borne.

Monday, September 3rd. _Reveille_ at three o'clock, and coming after a
few days of welcome rest in the camp by the Pretoria Racecourse, a camp
resembling a vast rubbish field with the addition of open latrines, we
naturally felt more annoyed than when on the march, hence these idle
rhymes. On Sunday, after a short Divine Service, at which our major
presided, we had to fall in and draw remounts. Hence "Reveille," "Saddle
up and stand to your horses!" I chose rather a good mount in the horse
corral, but as the sergeants had the privilege of choosing from those we
drew, I lost it, and so abandoned any intentions of trying to secure
another good one. There is no attempt on these occasions to see that the
right man has the right horse: it's "Hobson's choice." Even at Maitland
camp, where I drew my first mount, no such attempt was made, the
consequence being that I, scaling about 13-st. or more with my kit on,
and heaven only knows what with my loaded saddle, drew when my turn came
a weak little mare, which I had to stick to, to our mutual disadvantage,
while lighter men drew bigger and stronger horses. Only a few days ago I
received amongst my mails a letter from my sister, who inquired, "How is
your horse?" Which one? "Stumbles" is not, "Ponto" is not, "Juggernaut"
is not, "Diamond Jubilee" is not, "Bete Noire" is not. My present one,
which I have not named, _is_, and I sometimes wish he wasn't. When I
drew him at a venture, I vainly hoped he was not like other horses,
especially that Argentine. Well, apart from stumbling and reverentially
kneeling on most inopportune occasions, I have not much fault to find
with him. To-day is our first day on this fresh jaunt (we are to join
Clements), and already