tice was arranged, for the convenience of Brother Boer, I
presume, which to-day (Sunday) still continues.

[Footnote 1: Otherwise known as the "Hatherly Distillery,"
owned by a chameleon millionaire German-Jew, named Sammy
Marks. Oh, that fine old Scotch whisky! The labels announcing
this un-fact are, I understand, obtained from the Old Country
and gummed on the bottles at Hatherly.]

[Illustration: _The Great Small Game Quest(ion)._]

This morning (Sunday, the 10th) we had the first Church Parade we have
had for a long time. The sermon was good, and from it I gathered that it
was Trinity Sunday. Yesterday it was a curious sight to see us
employing our leisured ease in stripping ourselves, scratching our
bodies, and carefully examining our shirts and underwear. A brutal
lice(ntious) soldiery! Most of us have had quite large families of
_these_ dependent upon us; a more euphonious term for them is "Roberts'
Scouts." Men to whom the existence of such insects was once merely a
vaguely-accepted fact, and who would have brought libel actions against
any persons insinuating that they possessed such things, after having
been disillusioned of the idea that they were troubled with the "prickly
itch," were calmly, naked and unashamed, searching diligently for their
tormentors in their clothes as to the manner born. Being fortunate
enough to find an officer's servant with a bottle of Jeyes', I finally
washed both myself and clothes in a solution of it, so once again I am a
free man, but the cry goes up "How long?" and echo repeats it. I have
been told that the best way to get rid of these undesirable insects is
to keep turning one's shirt inside out; by this means _their hearts are
eventually broken_.

DIAMOND HILL AND AFTER.[2]

[Footnote 2: That we played a small part in the extensive
operations, culminating in what is known as the Battle of
Diamond Hill, was only known to most of us four or five
months later.]

PIENAARSPOORT.
_Friday, June 15th, (?) 1900._

_Dolce far niente._ I am not certain about the spelling, or quite
positive about its interpretation, but it means something comfortable, I
am sure. And that is just what I am at present. I have lost the scanty
notes on which I try to base my periodical literary outbursts, and which
assist me to retain som