red the deception, when he
anathematised us all.

News is more rigorously suppressed than ever, and undoubtedly it is the
right thing to do. Everybody is of this opinion, for the _friendly_
Dutch in Pretoria and elsewhere used to know far too much.

OUR ORDERLY'S BLIGHTED HEART.

Friday. Yesterday was unfortunately the day of Valentine the Saint. I
say "unfortunately" for this reason: I was just about to continue this
letter, when our day orderly came in, and taking advantage of my
sympathetic and credulous nature, after boldly reminding me that it was
St. Valentine's Day, told me that he had only loved once and never would
again.

In this respect he differs considerably from the majority of orderlies.
He then comfortably arranged himself on a vacant bed, and unsolicited,
with a smiling face, told me the romantic story of his blighted
affection. As it may interest you, I will give you a condensed version
of the same. Would to Heaven he had so dealt with me. But I was born to
suffer, and was I not in hospital? As a coster lad he went with a young
woman who loved him. He also loved her. Her name was Olivia. She went
upon the "styge," and loved him still. Then an old nobleman (Sir ----)
fell in love with her, followed her persistently, and wooed her through
her parents. He was rich but honest, and it was a case of December and
April, for she was all showers--of tears. At last, against her heart's
dictates, she married him and became an old man's pet--nuisance, I
should imagine, and my orderly friend became a soldier. Alas for the
trio, she could not forget her old, I mean young, love, and eventually
blew her brains out in Paris. They spattered the ceiling and ruined the
carpet--I forgot the rest, (there was a lovely account of it in the
_People_), for over-taxed nature could stand no more, and I fell asleep
dreaming of reporters wading ankle-deep in blood in a Louis Quatorze
drawing-room, taking notes of a terrible tragedy in high life, and was
horrified to hear a loud report, followed by a gurgling sound, and,
opening my eyes, beheld--Mr. Orderly holding one of my bottles of stout
upside down to his lips, and in his other hand my corkscrew with a cork
on the end of it.

Private McLaughlan, of the Inniskillings, having heard of this, informed
me that he "jined th' Army" because his father would not let him keep
five racehorses; and Private Hewitt, of the 12th M.I., gave his reason
as being his refusal to marry a _h