sleeves. About four days before,
on the high veldt, we had frost on our blankets in the morning.

Monday, October 15th. Yesterday we only marched a few miles, and to-day
we have done even less. The Infantry marching along the Magaliesberg
searching the kloofs, farms at the base, and such-like, rendering
progress, of necessity, slow. Behind us, every day now, we leave burning
houses and waggons. Colonel Legge, who has taken over Ridley's command,
is doing the same a little ahead of us on our left front, and Broadwood
likewise on the other side of the Magaliesberg. Since leaving Commando
Nek our column has found and destroyed nearly three dozen good waggons
and numerous deserted farms. It seems rather rough, but leniency has
proved the stumbling block of the campaign, and now we are doing what
any other than a British Army would have done months ago. Our camp is
near a deserted farm. The house is, of course, now gutted out, but
around it are fields of bearded barley, golden wheat and oats, a lovely
grove of limes, and rows of ripening figs, peaches and red blossoming
pomegranates. This morning I had a fine bathe in a pool near by, and was
washing my one and only shirt, when I heard that honey was being got
near the lime grove, so jumped into my breeks and boots, and tying my
wet shirt round my neck, rushed up to have a look in. A lot of silly,
laughing niggers were the principal _personae_ in the little comedy.
There were two or three hives, and after a little smoking I went and
helped myself; at the next hive I did pretty well, but at the next,
after I had inserted my hand into it and taken several pieces of comb,
the bees went for us in style. I had put on my shirt by that time,
fortunately for me; as it was, I had them buzzing all round my head, and
got fairly well stung; two got into one of my boots and jobbed their
tails, which were hot, into my bare ankle, several stung my hands, arms
and forehead, and one got me exactly on the tip of my nose. However, I
have felt no inconvenience from any of the stings, in spite of being
without the blue-bag. Our reinforcements of ex-Police have not turned up
yet; we are looking forward to seeing them, because they are sure to
bring our mails. My horse has developed a bad off hock, now. Like the
poet:

"I never had a decent horse,
Which was a treat to ride,
But came the usual thing, of course,
It sickened or it died."

Tuesday, October 16th. The animal referred to above