t, in
contrast to the cold that always accompanies violent thunder-storms in
Natal.

And so Christmas-tide was past, and the New Year broke upon the
beleaguered garrison. So great is the influence of times and
seasons that we may well believe that even in Ladysmith the first
day of 1900 brought a brighter ray of hope. But hope must yet for
long be deferred, and the daily round of tasks grow wearisome by
repetition--the daily dole of eked-out rations, the daily tale of
bursting shells, were for many weeks, with one day's startling
break, to be the sole preoccupation of the defenders. The enemy,
even on this first day of January, were not willing to leave the
garrison in doubt as to their presence, although, despite the
possible touch of sarcasm, there was a grim sort of friendliness in
their reminder. It again took the form of blind shells--this time
fired from the Free State batteries--inscribed "Compliments of the
Season." The sarcasm (writes Mr. Pearse)

seems the more pointed because we hear that the Boers believe us to be
starving and unable to hold out much longer. We should, at any rate,
appreciate the good wishes more if they were sent in another form.
Shells, even without fuses or powder-charges, are not quite harmless;
and though these have done no damage so far, there is always a chance
that they may hit somebody when fired into the heart of a town where
people still carry on their customary occupations in spite of
bombardment.

Whatever change favourable to their hopes was believed in by the
Boers, there was none in the spirit with which soldiers and
civilians alike in the invested township faced the duties placed
upon them. Writing on New Year's Day Mr. Pearse has a timely and a
generous word for the humbler heroes of the siege:--

We have among us one little saddler for whose services there is so much
demand that he has steadily stitched away for hours together every
working day since the siege began, heedless of shells. There are
tailors, too, who have done their best to keep officers and civilians
clothed, not even quitting their benches when shrapnels burst near them,
and I know of at least one poor seamstress who, by working night and
day, has earned enough to buy something more than bare rations even at
famine prices. Cynics do not look for heroes or heroines among such as
these. They toil for gain, tha