background was a portion of a low ornamental garden wall, in the
distance was a ruin principally composed of Ionic columns in various
positions--presumably the devastating work of the warrior in the
foreground, "Look on that," he said bitterly, and as I returned it, "and
on this, the _backbone_ of the British Army," smiting his manly breast.
I looked, and in the bronzed, unshaven face and raggedly-apparelled
figure before me, recognised a certain semblance to him of the
photograph. I smiled sympathetically. "As it was," quoth he, "now and
ever shall be, war without end." I turned to go, but was not fated to
escape so easily. He held me with his bloodshot eyes, and perforce I
stayed. With upraised voice he declaimed thus:

THE PSALM OF STRIFE.

(_Being what the Yeoman said to the Psalmist._)

Tell me not in ceaseless rumours
That we soon are going home,
Just to cure our bitter humours,
While upon the veldt we roam.

War is real, and war is earnest,
And Pretoria warn't the goal,
Out thou cam'st, but when returnest
Is not known to any soul.

Forward, fighting, smoking, chewing,
With a heart for any fate,
Still achieving, still pursuing,
And arriving--_just too late_.

I fled.

INVITATIONS--AND A CONCERT.

_Wednesday, February 6th, 1901._

Another week has rolled away; a week's march nearer home anyway, and
like the great MacMahon, I am here and here I sticks. The most thrilling
event of the past seven days has been the sudden and unexpected
reception of mails, after having abandoned all hope, and a parcel which
arrived in Pretoria for me during the first week in September.

I was interested to read in an enclosed note that my aunt hoped I should
be home to spend Christmas with her. By-the-bye, people have been
awfully good in sending me invitations to weddings, funerals, and
christenings. In August last I was the recipient of a dainty invitation
to the wedding of a friend. The sad event was to take place in June. I
didn't go. The latest was a cream-laid affair, from another quarter, on
which I was requested in letters of gold to honour certain near and dear
relatives with my presence at the christening of their firstborn. As the
affair was to take place in December, and I received the pressing
invitation at the end of January--I was again unable to be present at
another interesting ceremony. I have also received several invitation