tely fashion, and dispensing
hospitality out of the largest and most battered Britannia-metal teapot
that ever brewed, what was later originally referred to in the weekly
"Social Jottings" column of the _Gueldersdorp Siege Gazette_ as the
cheering infusion. The _Siege Gazette_ was an intermittent daily, issued
from a subterranean printing-office, for the dissemination of general
orders and latest news, fluctuations in the weight and quality of the
meat-rations, and the rise and fall of the free-soup level, being also
recorded. To its back-files I must refer those who seek a fuller account
of the function described by the brilliant journalist who signed herself
"Gold Pen," as highly successful. She gives you to understand that the
company was distinguished, and the conversation vivid and unflagging. And
when you realise that everybody present was suffering more or less from
the active pinch of hunger, that social gathering of men and women of
British blood becomes heroic and historic and fine.

"Dr Saxham, Attached Medical Staff, was observed," we read. "Gold Pen"
also notes "the presence of the Reverend Julius Fraithorn, son of the
Bishop of H----, and second curate--on leave--of St. Margaret's, Wendish
Street; now happily recovered, thanks to the skill of Dr. Saxham, from an
illness, held at no recent date to be incurable. Mr. Fraithorn has
undertaken the onerous duties of Chaplain to the Hospitals in charge of
the Military Staff. It was gratifying to observe," she continues, "that
the Colonel commanding graced the occasion by his martial presence. He
was attended by his junior aide, Lieutenant Lord Beauvayse. We also saw
Lady Hannah Wrynche with her distinguished husband, Captain Bingham
Wrynche, Royal Bay Dragoons, Acting Senior Aide," etc., etc.

"Late apricots from the garden of the ruined Convent, and peaches from its
west wall, gathered in the dead of night by Sister Cleophee and Sister
Tobias," "Gold Pen" goes on to say, "were greatly appreciated by the
guests, each of whom brought his or her own bread."

A most villainous kind of bannock of unleavened mealie-meal and crushed
oats, calculated to try the strongest teeth and trouble the toughest
digestion, "Gold Pen" might have added. But the game was to make believe
you rather enjoyed it than otherwise. If you had no teeth and no
digestion, you were allowed a pint and a half of sowens porridge instead;
and thus helped your portion of exhausted cavalry mount or y