branches of the service, and all parts of the Empire, one and all
toiling in the direction of Pretoria. We started at about mid-day, and
reached our destination, tired and famished, at seven. After the first
ten miles, behold a string of four men, tramping with never a halt, over
rocks and grass, through spruits, past unutterably aromatic defunct
representatives of the equine race, and through dust ankle deep, towards
the city of their desire. Darkness came on swiftly, as it does out here,
and past hundreds of camp fires they limped, footsore but as determined
as ever, though in no good temper, for this is the order of some of
their questions and answers towards the end of their march:

"How far off is Pretoria?"--"Three-and-a-half miles."

"How far off is Pretoria?"--"Seven miles."

"How far off is Pretoria?"--"Nine miles."

"How far off is Pretoria?"--"Three miles."

"Have you a Kruger penny?"--"No."

After tramping another two miles:

"How far off is Pretoria?"--"Three or four miles."

At last we beheld lights, not camp lights, but electric lights, and
cheered by these, we quickened our pace. Alas! they seemed to play us a
sorry game, and mocking, Will-o'-the-Wisp-like, retreated as we
advanced. Then, too, we cursed those once blessed electric lights.
Finally we reached the outskirts of the town, and seeing a closed store,
with rifle butts and threatening tones persuaded the German dealer to
open unto us. Here, speaking personally, I disposed of over half a tin
of biscuits and two tins of jam. _Note by the Way_: These South African
fresh fruit jams are, I am convinced, made of the numberless pumpkins
and similar vegetables that one sees in nearly every field, and then
indiscriminately labelled (I nearly wrote _libelled_) "peach,"
"apricot," "greengage," and--so help me, Roberts!--"marmalade." One of
the manufacturers even has the audacity to boldly proclaim his preserves
"stoneless plum and apricot";--as a matter of fact, pumpkins do not
usually have stones.

Finally we entered the town, where every shop was closed, but, thanks to
the guidance of a kindly German, after about half-a-dozen unsuccessful
efforts we at length obtained food and shelter at a house called "The
Albion." Oh, the pleasure of sleeping in a bed and under a roof after
_aeons_ (to me) on the hard earth beneath the stars and dew! The next
morning (Sunday) as we were breakfasting, we beheld unseen, the 7th
Battalion ride past, and later, af