old to laugh at. We had some "snipers"
all day endeavouring to worry the Boers. A mounted patrol, also, worried
them. In the afternoon the rain came down to complete their misery, and
the imperturbable oxen were let browse in peace.

And from another quarter there was coming worry, to shatter the dreams,
the hopes, the "castles in the air" of Kimberley. The Relief Column was
approaching; this time for certain. We had heard like legends before,
but they were _only_ legends (before). The Column was really coming. A
native had come in with the news. Now, of a white man's reliability a
doubt would not be tolerated; but the native!--well, the native had
acquired a reputation for bad, bold mendacity that was altogether too
unscientific to be appreciated by a close and subtle aristocracy. Still,
the story was nice; we liked to believe it. There are natives and
natives--there is even a _Booker_ Washington--all men are not liars. The
Press, too, attached credence to the tale, and that went far to convince
us of its truth. A glance at the paper next morning established the
veracity of the Bantu.

"We are authorised to state that a strong force has left Orange River,
and is moving forward to the relief of Kimberley."

Such was the message. The joy was universal. In a few days the column
would be with us. Kimberley would be free. The siege was over! Hurrah,
the people shouted with an enthusiasm only transcended in degree by the
resolute contempt with which the reported approach of French was greeted
in the following year. The Queen was sung of with rare earnestness and
lung power. The Colonel was toasted and praised at the bars.
Baden-Powell was promised help; the Mayor was patronised. The column was
drunk to, not wisely, but too well; while Tommy Atkins' glories as a
soldier and a man were chorussed in unmeasured terms--and time. For the
rest--we were generous--the Boers we could forgive. But they must all be
captured; in the interests of the campaign it was not expedient that one
should escape. Where should they be housed? The gaol was not large
enough. The Town Hall was suggested. But the mines were finally
selected--with exquisite irony; for we little dreamt that the thousands
destined eventually to be driven there should be--our friends, indeed,
but not our friend the enemy!

Friday was quiet, and a very jovial day in town. The Boers--in blissful
ignorance of their approaching doom--occupied themselves in disfiguring
the