of
course, is to discourage any diversion on our part, and it succeeds,
because we have no motive for action yet. It is hard to have been cooped
up for fifty days under fire, but we must make the best of it.

After trying in vain to reach the ordnance stores this morning Bulwaan
got the range of headquarters. One shell burst a few yards short, the
next crashed into Sir Henry Rawlinson's room, smashing all the furniture
to atoms. Sir George White was lying in another room ill of a low fever,
and there was naturally much anxiety on his account. For a long time he
refused to be moved, but at length, under pressure of the whole staff,
gave way, and consented to change his quarters to a camp less exposed.
Immunity from shell fire is hardly possible within our lines now, for
the Boers have mounted another howitzer on Surprise Hill to-day, and
this, with the big Creusot still on Telegraph Hill, will probably search
many places that have hitherto been comparatively safe, for our
howitzers cannot keep down the fire of both.

_December 22._--This was a day of heavy calamity for one regiment, and
marked by more serious casualties than any other since the siege began.
At six o'clock this morning a shell from Bulwaan struck the camp of the
ill-fated Gloucesters on Junction Hill just as the men were at
breakfast. It killed six and wounded nine, of whom three are very
seriously hurt. A little later the big gun on Telegraph Hill threw a
shell into the cavalry lines. It burst among the 5th Lancers, who were
at morning inspection, and wounded Colonel Fawcett, Major King, a
captain, the adjutant, a senior lieutenant, the regimental
sergeant-major, a troop sergeant-major, and a sergeant. The last had an
eye knocked out, but the others were only slightly wounded, and when
their injuries had been looked to, they all formed in a group to be
photographed.

_December 23._--After early morning on Saturday came a strange lull in
the bombardment, and people who count the shells as they fall, for lack
of other employment, found their favourite occupation gone. Even the
pigeons that are kept in training here for future military use seemed
reluctant to fly in the still air, missing probably the excitement of
sounds that urge them to revel in multitudinous cross-currents when
shells are about; and long-tailed Namaqua doves flitted mute about the
pine branches, as if unable to coo an amorous note without the usual
accompaniment. Quiet did not reign