g up saddlery and
such like.

Well, I do not feel in a letter-writing mood this morning, so shall as
far as possible arrange my kit and possessions for the next move on the
board, on which this poor Yeoman is a humble pawn. I have just finished
the "Inland Voyage," which you may remember concludes thus, in the final
chapter, "Back to the World":--

"Now we were to return like the voyager in the play, and see what
re-arrangements fortune had perfected the while in our surroundings;
what surprises stood ready made for us at home; and whither and how far
the world had voyaged in our absence. You may paddle all day long; but
it is when you come back at nightfall, and look in at the familiar room,
that you find Love or Death awaiting you beside the stove; and the most
beautiful adventures are not those we go to seek."

Good, isn't it?

WITH MAHON.

A GENERAL ADVANCE TO BALMORAL AND BACK.

DASSPOORT,
OUTSIDE PRETORIA.
_Tuesday, July 31st._

"Good morning! Have you used Pears' soap?" No, nor any other for about a
fortnight, but in a few minutes I am going to have a most luxurious
shave and bath in a tin teacup. As you can see by the above, we are all
back at this historic town again after a very warm fortnight of marching
and fighting under General Mahon. We marched through the town past
Roberts yesterday, and are now camped awaiting remounts, in order to
proceed with the game in some other and unknown direction. I have not
much time for correspondence, but will do my best to give a little
sketch of some of our doings. To begin with, on Saturday, July 14th, the
remnants of the Dorset, Devon, Somerset and Sussex Yeomanry were formed
into a composite squadron[3] of three troops under Captain Sir Elliot
Lees, M.P., and served with fresh mounts--Argentines. Of course, I got a
lovely beast, a black horse, which would not permit anyone to place a
bit in his mouth under any circumstances. It generally takes our
sergeant-major, farrier-sergeant, an officer's groom, a corporal and
myself about an hour to get the aforesaid bit properly fixed. When I try
to fix it myself with the assistance of a comrade, the performance
usually concludes by tying him to a wheel of our ox waggon, and then,
after many struggles, I manage to achieve my object all sublime (though
there is not much sublimity about it).