is returning to the front, the second with grief
because he was powerless to help his comrades any more. I could cite a
hundred examples of the astounding spirit that such men displayed. I do
not think that we at home ever doubted their bravery on the field, but
the kind of endurance that is seldom bred but by long habit and early
training was to be found no less universally in these hospital beds. The
people of Cape Town had done well in the matter of hospitals, and fully
half the accommodation was provided by public subscription. But
Government hospitals were far from efficient in their equipment, as well
as far from sufficient in their accommodation. Many things that would be
regarded as necessaries in a pauper hospital at home had to be provided
at Cape Town for the Government hospitals by private bounty.

I walked over to the infantry camp at Sea Point one morning with Mr.
Rudyard Kipling. As we neared the camp we overtook a private carrying in
his hand a large pair of boots. Mr. Rudyard Kipling asked if we were on
the right road, and the man said--

"Yes; are yer goin' there? Then yer can tike these boots. I 'av to
entrine at twelve o'clock, and I ain't goin' ter miss it fer no blessed
boots. 'Ere, tike 'old," he continued, thrusting the boots into Mr.
Kipling's hand, "and give 'em to Private Dickson, B Company; and mind,
if yer cawn't find 'im, jest tike 'em back ter Williams, opposite the
White 'Orse."

Mr. Kipling promised faithfully, and gave a receipt, which he signed;
but the man did not notice the name.

"My friend," said Mr. Kipling, "you'll get your head chaffed off when
you get back to the guard-room."

"What for?" vainly asked the man, and departed, while we continued our
way towards the camp.

No sooner were we inside the railings than Mr. Kipling was accosted by a
military policeman.

"What are you doing here? You must get out of here, you know, sharp!"

"I'm taking these boots to Private Dickson," said Mr. Kipling.

"Well, you ought to take them to the guard tent, and not go wandering
about the camp like this. Out of it, now!"

Now Mr. Kipling had a pass from the Commander-in-Chief to go wherever he
pleased in South Africa, and, besides that, he is Rudyard Kipling, whom
private soldiers call their brother and father; so the situation was
amusing.

Just then a police sergeant rode up and said, "Please, sir, I lived ten
years with the man as you get your tobacco from in Brighton; anything