too, would not be beat;
At last _It_ crossed the mighty main,
Did Britain's latest great inane,
And we out here in deep despair,
Have been informed that _There is 'air_.

I am pleased to record that the beauty of this epoch-making remark and
the evident subtle charm underlying it, has not yet dawned upon any of
the troops with which I have come in contact, and so, apart from being
aware of its existence, it has molested me in no degree. Even the
Transvaal has its compensations. Look at the moral and intellectual
damages one escapes--occasionally. Whiteing managed to get some rather
good books at an untenanted house a few days ago. Byron's Complete
Works, two Art Journal Christmas numbers (Burne-Jones and Holman Hunt),
"Henry Esmond," and others. He gave me Henry George on "Progress and
Poverty," and two or three works of a devotional nature. The latter I
gave Nobby last night in the dark. Our conversations in the ranks are
very diversified. A few days back we were arguing as to which is the
better--a treacle pudding or a plain suet pudding with treacle. We were
interrupted in the middle by a few snipers potting at us. This morning
we stopped in the midst of a most interesting discussion on Aubrey
Beardsley as a decorative artist and the influence of Burne-Jones and
Japanese art on his earlier work, to kill fowls and loot eggs. Our bag
was eight cacklers and six eggs--which have just proved to be, as I
feared, addled. Lately we have had a really lazy time of it, the poor
Infantry scouring the hills and we leisurely riding a few miles along
the plain as advance or rearguard, and then camping by about mid-day.

THE BREAKING UP OF THE COMPOSITE SQUADRON.

Friday, October 19th. Yesterday evening the Devons and Dorsets were
rejoined by their ex-policemen, over a hundred in number. They looked
very fit, and appeared pleased to get on the column again. The Devons
have their popular officer, Captain Bolitho, with them again. The Sussex
did not turn up. However, they and the Somersets are expected to-morrow.
As regards mails, we were not wholly disappointed. I got one batch of
letters, bearing the home postmark of September 14th, also some
newspapers. In one of the latter was a very florid four-column account
by a famous "War Special," of the doings of Rundle's Starving Eighth. It
included a picturesque description of one of those common occurrences,
a veldt fire. "And now the flames roll onward with their
beautifu