all the cold roast beef and
bread that he had. Guards having been told off, and the horses picketed
in the Police Barracks Yard, some of us had leave to go into the town. I
was one of the fortunates. The enthusiasm of the inhabitants and their
generous treatment of the men in khaki will be long remembered. The
coloured population all showed great, gleaming rows of teeth, and
ejaculated what I took to be meant for British cheers. Bread was given
away, cigars and cigarettes forced (?) upon us, and meals stood right
and left. A German girl, at a florist's, decorated about half-a-dozen of
us with red, white and blue buttonholes. We were dirty and unshaven, but
it mattered not, we were monarchs (_Vae Victis!_) and was it not my
birthday? Into the shops we went. All were closed, but we persuaded some
to open, and the good German Jew merchants let us commandeer within
reason. Haversacks and pockets were filled. The actual prices of things
were fairly high: sugar 1/6 per lb., condensed milk 2/-, golden syrup
4/- a small tin, and so on. One of our fellows, after being well fed,
was sent back to us loaded with boxes of briar pipes to distribute,
another with socks and vests; others were given Kruger pennies, as
souvenirs. And all the day, and all the night, through the streets
marched our troops, rolled and rattled our guns, our carts and waggons.
And the night, oh, what a night! For seven miles I struggled on in
charge of our ammunition cart, in search of our company, picking my way
out of a mass of bullock waggons, carts, mules, and every imaginable
vehicle; men asking for this brigade and that division on every hand;
transport officers cursing, conductors exhorting, and niggers yelling
and cracking whips.

PRETORIA TAKEN.

WITHIN SIGHT OF EERSTIE FABRIKEN,
E. OF PRETORIA.
_June 10th, 1900._

Fortunately for you in my last I left off rather abruptly in order to
catch the post, or I should have bored you with a long account of my
search with our ammunition cart for the company along the road to
Pretoria from Johannesburg. For seven miles we--a comrade, myself, the
blank Kaffir driver and mules--struggled and stumbled between long halts
after our crowd, past waggons, carts, dhoolies, and chaises of all
descriptions, the drivers of most of which were all inquiring for
various divisions, brigades, batt