ining beer--obtained no matter how. Into the basin a
broken cup and a tin mug were being constantly dipped. With this,
cigarettes, and chatter, the evening passed very agreeably. Of course
this is early to criticise the Hospital and its working, but the general
impression of we ex-Arcadians is that the Pretoria shop is far superior.

As regards reaching Cape Town, one cannot say much. A good many of our
fellows have been sent back to Elandsfontein, which has been styled as
"the home for lost Yeomanry." In the station, a few hundred yards off,
is a fine khaki armoured train, with a pom-pom named "Edward VII."
mounted on the centre truck.

R.A.M.C. EXPERIENCES AND IMPRESSIONS.

WYNBERG HOSPITAL,
CAPE COLONY.
_Monday, February 25th, 1901._

The above address may appear to you like a day's march nearer home, but
it is more than likely nothing of the sort. Having once got the
convalescent gentlemen in khaki down south as far as Cape Town, and
raised the home yearning hearts of the aforementioned to an altitude
beyond the loftiest peak of the Himalayas--the medical officers here
return them as shuttlecocks from a battledore up country, and it's a
case of "gentlemen in khaki ordered North."

We arrived here this morning early, having left Deelfontein at daybreak
yesterday (Sunday). Ambulance carts conveyed us to the Wynberg Hospital,
where I now am.

Tuesday, 26th. Wherever I go I seem to fall fairly well on my feet and
meet old friends. In the next room (each ward is divided into rooms,
these are barracks in time of peace) are two fellows who were in my tent
at Pretoria; one was half-blinded by lightning. They are rattling good
fellows. My bed chum, the man next to me, is a man of the Rifle Brigade,
who has lost an eye, and, again, is a ripping fine chap. This is an
R.A.M.C. show, and everything is regimental, dem'd regimental. We have
the regulation barrack-room cots, which have to be limbered up and
dressed with the familiar brown blankets and sheets in apple-pie or,
rather, Swiss roll, order. Also, the locker has to be kept very neat and
symmetrical. To drop a piece of paper in the room would be almost
courting a court-martial. So, whenever I have a small piece of paper to
throw away, I roam about like a criminal anxious to conceal a corpse,
and am often nearly driven to chewing and swallowing