a, and veldt, and kloof,
And the lonely grave
Of the honored brave,
Is a proof--if we need a proof."
_E. Wallace._

Tuesday, September 18th. We buried Lieut. Stanley yesterday at mid-day,
the sergeants acting as bearers, we Sussex men (of the dozen of us, two
were with him at Eton and one at Oxford) composed the firing party,
while the whole squadron, officers and men followed. About
three-quarters of a mile from our present camp, in the garden of a
Scotchman, named Jennings, by a murmuring, running stream, and beneath
some willows, we laid him. By the side of the grave was a bush of
Transvaal may, covered in white blossom, at the end were roses to come,
and away back and front were the white-covered pear trees and
pink-covered peach, perfuming the clear, fresh air, while on the sides
of the babbling stream were ferns and a species of white iris. Sewn up
in his rough, brown, military blanket, he was lowered to his last
resting-place, the major reading the Burial Service.

"---- Is cut down like a flower."

He could not have been more than twenty-five. Then, "Fire three volleys
of blank ammunition in the air. Ready! Present! Fire!" Again and again,
and the obsequies of a brave officer and true English gentleman and
sportsman were over.

I am sorry to say that we have a Sussex sergeant missing--killed or
prisoner. We are most anxious to know his fate, poor fellow. So, out of
the seven of us in that hot corner, one is dead, one is not, and Heaven
only knows how the others escaped, myself in particular.

Wednesday, September 19th. This morning we advanced about half-a-dozen
miles, and pitched our camp here--Doornkloof is the name of the place, I
believe.

Thursday, September 20th. Ridley's column has gone back in the direction
of Pretoria to Rietfontein, as escort to a convoy, principally composed
of waggons loaded with oat hay. I hear, and hope it is true, that he has
our letters.

Friday, September 21st. Had to do a picket on an outlying kopje. The
stable guard, who should have _reveilleed_ us at three forgot to do so,
and later, when we were aroused, we had to saddle up and clear off at
once. I had to go off _sans cafe_ (which is breakfast), and worse still
in my hurry _sans_ pipe. Oh, how that worried me, my pipe which I have
kept and smoked through all till now. Somebody might tread on it and
break it, or find it and not return it. On the kopje a friend lent me