rly corporal with rations: "I say, you fellows, it's 'damall'
again to day."

Chorus: "!!!???***"

Of course it is evident to you that the above extracts are from a
burlesque written by a man in the ranks. Alas! there is a perpetual feud
existent between "the brave, silent men at the back," and ditto those at
the front, consequently any joke at the expense of the "waggon crowd" is
always appreciated beyond its value. Sergeant-Major Hunt, who had been
acting as quartermaster-sergeant for several weeks, did us remarkably
well; but, alas, he has been invalided into Pretoria, and another has
reigned in his stead, who has done evil in (or rather out of) our sight;
being either incompetent or too clever. By the foregoing, you can see
that I have not got much news to record. We expect some of the
time-expired Police to join us on Sunday or Monday, and so, I fancy, we
shall not move till they come up.

OUR FRIEND "NOBBY."

[Illustration: 'Nobby'.]

We often get some of the Border men in our lines, and, like all of the
Regulars, they are most entertaining, though their statements usually
require a few grains of salt before swallowing. One of these bold Border
men, known to us as "Nobby," is awfully disgusted at my bad habit of
letter writing. As a rule I am scribbling when he strolls up, and get
greeted with the jeering remark, "At it again." Some days back, after
reflectively expectorating, he delivered himself thus on letter writing:
"I don't often write. When I do, I sez 'I'm all right; 'ow's yerself?' A
soldier's got too much to do to write blooming letters." Then he
retailed terrible stories of Spion Kop, Pieter's Hill, and other
affairs. Amongst his loot stories I know the following to be a fact; its
hero has since been court-martialled. One of the men in Clements' Force,
being _en route_, visited a house, and, producing his emergency rations
(these are contained in a curious little tin case), threatened to blow
the house and its occupants to kingdom-come unless they complied with
his request for eggs, bread, coffee, etc. They complied, but,
unfortunately for the man in question, a nigger belonging to the place
followed him into camp, and reported the case. Mr. Thomas Atkins of the
Line has curious notions about the distances he marches. Of course, he
is a grand marcher, and has done remarkable distances and times in this
campaign; still, occasionally he makes one smile, when it is a known
fact that the Force has j