nd water, and yet, without our even
making enquiries for the precious lump, he went out of his way to return
it.

I asked him why he had come into the hospital, and he told me he and
several others had been sent in as unfit for the veldt, and so were
to act as hospital orderlies. When I inquired how he liked the idea,
he said it was all right, as he was clear of the horrible
"hundred-and-fifty," and he laid his hands significantly where the
pouches are wont to decorate the waist of the poor infantryman.

[_Note._--I suppose you know the infantryman's cross is the hated
150 rounds in the two pouches, which after many miles marching
become most irksome, especially for the muscles of the stomach.]

I, of course, inquired after Nobby, but he could not tell me anything
about him, as Nobby is in "H" Company and his was "B."

To-day (the 16th) a large number of fellows are leaving here for the
base and, the rumour is--_home_.

[Illustration: Got his ticket.

"See that fellow?"
"Yes."
"He's 'marked for home.'"
"Lucky Beggar!"]

The P.M.O. asked a Yeomanry friend yesterday if he would like to go home
or join his squadron, and the Yeoman's reply was he would like to rejoin
his squadron--at home. In explanation, he smilingly stated that all of
his squadron's officers, bar one, had gone home, and nearly all the
squadron, having been invalided or discharged. Well, I think this is
long enough for a letter written by a man who can hardly claim to be "on
active service" just at present.

THE SISTERS' ALBUMS.

_Sunday, January 26th, 1901._

Still at the above address, but going strong, and almost losing the
Spartan habits engendered by my recent life on the veldt!

News is very scarce with us, and to dare to write you a long letter
would be the height of impudence, so I will let you off with a
moderately short one this week.

Last week an original burlesque (perhaps I ought to politely designate
it a musical comedy) was produced in a large marquee here, which is
called "the theatre." I don't know what the name of the piece was but it
dealt with a Hospital Commission, and the _dramatis personae_ consisted
of a Boer spy, posing as the Commissioner, the real Commissioner, as a
new nurse, nurses, orderlies, Kaffirs and doctors, amongst the latter
being a Scotch Doctor, who drank a deal of "whuskey" and whose diagnoses
were most entertaining. It was quite pathetic t