it. In the midst of it all he would stand
quite unconcerned, and speak in his usual voice--slow, trenchant,
restrained by a cynicism that came partly from youth and an English
horror of fuss. How different from the voice of unconsciousness which I
heard raving in his room only this morning!

To-night we buried him. The coffin was not ready till half-past eleven.
All the London correspondents came, and a few officers, Colonel
Stoneman (A.S.C.) and Major Henderson, of the Intelligence Department,
representing the Staff. Many more would have come, but nearly the whole
garrison was warned for duty. About twenty-five of us, all mounted,
followed the little glass hearse with its black and white
embellishments. The few soldiers and sentries whom we passed halted and
gave the last salute. There was a full moon, covered with clouds, that
let the light through at their misty edges. A soft rain fell as we
lowered the coffin by thin ropes into the grave. The Boer searchlight on
Bulwan was sweeping the half circle of the English defences from end to
end, and now and then it opened its full white eye upon us, as though
the enemy wondered what we were doing there. We were laying to rest a
man of assured, though unaccomplished genius, whose heart had still been
full of hopes and generosity. One who had not lost the affections and
charm of youth, nor been dulled either by success or disappointment.

"From the contagion of the world's slow stain
He is secure; and now can never mourn
A heart grown old, a head grown grey, in vain--
Nor when the spirit's self has ceased to burn
With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn."

_January 16, 1900_.

A day of unfulfilled expectation, unrelieved even by lies and rumours.
From the top of Observation Hill I again watched the Dutch in their
clustered camps, fourteen miles away across the great plain, whilst our
heliograph flashed to us from the dark hill beyond them. But there was
no sound of the expected guns, and every one lost heart a little.

At the market, eggs were a guinea a dozen. Four pounds of oatmeal sold
for 11s. 6d. A four-ounce tin of English tobacco fetched 30s. Out of our
original numbers of about 12,000 nearly 3,000 are now sick or wounded at
Intombi, and there are over 200 graves there. More helpers are wanted,
and to-day Colonel Stoneman summoned 150 loafers from their holes in the
river-bank, and called for twenty volunteers. No one came, so h