alions, companies, and such like. At
last, at about one o'clock, having come up with the 11th Division, we
halted and outspanned near the Guards' Brigade. At the first sign of
daybreak I arose, and going forward about a quarter of a mile or less,
came up with our company. The captain told me to get the mules inspanned
and follow on. Owing to the infernal slowness of Tom, the driver, we got
off late and had another terrible search, this time by daylight, to find
the 7th Battalion I.Y., which at last we found camped at Orange Grove,
about two miles from where we had bivouacked the preceding night. The
next day (Sunday) we were looking to spending in a restful way, but this
was not to be. We suddenly got the order to "saddle up," and forward to
Pretoria we went. At about two in the afternoon we halted and picketed
our horses not far from a farm. There rather a curious, though perhaps
trivial, thing happened. Amongst the hundred-and-one little
_contretemps_ to which the Imperial Yeoman on active service is heir to,
I had lost my nosebag on our night march from Johannesburg. This
contained, besides the horse's feed, a tin of honey--of which I am as
fond as any bear--and a pot of bloater paste, obtained (good word) at
the Golden City from a "Sherman Shoe." Well, wandering in the direction
of the farm, I came near a duck-pond and a clump of small trees, from
which smoke was arising. My curiosity being aroused, I approached, and
found that some Australians and Cape Boys were smoking out some bees. I
arrived in the nick of time, and got a helmet-full of the most delicious
honey in the comb I have tasted for many a day. On Monday, June 4th, we
started for what we understood was to be our last march to Pretoria. We
had the good fortune to be in the advance party. Soon after starting the
Duke of Norfolk's horse fell in a hole and put his thigh out, so he lost
the fun, for it was not long before, from the hills ahead of us, came
rap, rap, and then the rat-tat-tat-tat of a machine gun. We dismounted,
advanced extended, and opened fire. I aimed at the hills, so I know I
hit something. The Boers retiring, we (that is the battalion) occupied
one kopje and then another, the dust flicking up in front of us. Then
boom! whish-sh-sh! a cloud of red dust shot up, and crack! and their
artillery had come into action. One shell burst directly over our heads,
then we were told to retire to our led horses, which necessitated
crossing a road on which