fleeced all round with
unprecedented flagrancy. A purgative proclamation--classing pills as
"necessaries"--was called for, but it never came. Obese folk, fearful
that their flesh was falling off in lumps, drank freely of cod liver
oil. On the other hand, fragile creatures of delicate mould thought
black tea not only cheaper but ever so much nicer. Of course, the poor
chemist was not responsible for tastes. He had much to answer for; but
he was really sorry for the nerves and the penury of the poor.

With Monday came three despatch-riders who reported that heavy fighting
had taken place--somewhere; the authorities declined to tell us where.
The Boers remained docile all day; the heat was oppressive, but their
silence was more generally attributed to a tardy realisation of their
position. The military were unusually alert and watchful. The public
graciously approved of this watchfulness, but pooh-poohed the danger of
invasion. We were tired hearing day after day that an attack on the town
was to be made "to-night"; it was to be "taken" six nights out of every
seven, the last being, if I mistake not, the one on which General
French was feted at the Kimberley Club.

Elaborate arrangements were made on Tuesday for the better protection of
our cattle. The quadrupeds, Dutch and English, were on the best of
terms--a happy augury, surely, for the amity which would unite the
bipeds of the land when the war was done. We had a batch of natives
employed digging trenches for the cattle-guards. A patrol was at hand to
nip in the bud any interference with the work which might be
contemplated. If the Boers did interfere, so much the better;
interference would involve a fight, and from a friendly tussle in the
sun the patrol was not averse. On the south and west sides the enemy
still laboured at their fortifications. We knew not what to make of
this; it nonplussed us. We had ceased ascribing it to want of knowledge:
for we had, reluctantly, let it down on us that the Boers knew as much
of the Column's movements as we did ourselves. But of course we also
knew that the Boer was a child in such matters as generalship and
tactics.

Every afternoon, at this period, the "child" delighted in trying to hit
the head-gear of the Premier Mine. Whether it was the red flag that
floated at the top or the thing itself he sought to tatter is uncertain.
At any rate, it was no easy matter to hit the head-gear, as the gunner
had long since discovered,