s are all for turning you out
of your hammocks ("turn out o' them 'ammicks!"), and here they are all
for keeping you in your bunk, the space being so limited. On each man's
bed was a well-filled white canvas bag, being a present from the Good
Hope and British Red Cross Societies. These were opened with no little
curiosity. Strange to say one of the first things an old toothless
Yorkshireman drew out was--a toothbrush. This caused general amusement.
There was nothing shoddy about the contents of these bags; they
contained a suit of pyjamas, shoes, a shirt, socks, towel, sponge bag
with sponge, soap, and toothbrush in it, a hairbrush, and handkerchief.
So could you but see me now, as I write, you would behold a being clad
in a swagger suit of Cambridge blue pyjamas.

Before daybreak a terrific bang aroused us to the fact that the engine
which was to bear us southward had come into action, and soon we were
under way. At Elandsfontein we beheld the mail train _with our mails_
going up. Farewell to mails! Kroonstad was reached at half-past two, and
we were shunted into a siding till this morning, when we resumed our
journey, passing _through_ Bloemfontein, to our joy, and arriving at
Springfontein soon after dark.

What a gigantic affair this war has been, and is. To travel through
these countries, the Transvaal, Orange River Colony, and the Cape Colony
(Tuesday morning, we are now in the latter) by rail alone is to feel all
criticism silenced.

Already we have passed hundreds of miles of flat veldt, with now and
again big kopjes in the background. At every station, bridge, and small
culvert are bodies of regulars, militia, and volunteers, or colonial and
other mounted troops. And when one considers that the bigger towns are
being strongly held, also various posts all over these countries, and
columns are operating in various districts, the whole affair fills one
with wonder and admiration. We expect to reach Deelfontein this evening.
An R.A.M.C. man has just been discussing that ghastly failure,
inoculation, with another man. Said he: "Inoculation is bally
tommy-rot!" Quoth the other, "That be hanged for a yarn. Tommy rot,
indeed, it nearly killed me!" It's a fact, the unnecessary suffering
which was endured by the poor beggars who allowed this experiment to be
performed upon them, with the hope of spoofing the fever fiend, has been
great. And strange to say, in many cases they (the inoculated) have been
the first victim