gled
before our eyes with aggressive cynicism. The shipping agents were most
attentive to detail in regard to the departure of vessels from Cape
ports--just as if the availability of aerial tugs, to convey us to the
coast, went without saying. Such were the irritating features of our
morning paper. Their humour was utterly lost on us; they only served to
sharpen the unhappy appetites of all whose fatal misfortune was ability
to read.

Nasty stories had been told with reference to the reign of terror to be
inaugurated on Monday. But they did not materialise; the rule of Martial
Law--bad to beat--remained unbeatable. The _expected_ rarely happened,
and peace was oftener than not the characteristic of the prophets'
red-letter-day. Such occasions gave us scope and opportunity to discuss
the _Kabal_ that ran her Majesty's writ, and to wonder whether it (the
writ) should ever again be pacemaker to the people's will. The spectacle
of a number of Union Jacks floating on the breeze was the most startling
incident of the day. What did the transformation mean? A wild conjecture
seized us; it was a moment of unalloyed joy when the fond thought of
Kimberley's relief having been accomplished during the night flashed
across our minds. But our jubilation was short-lived, for the Boers
presently fired a salute with intent clearly to tatter rather than
honour the Flag--in defence of which Long Cecil, tattered itself, was
unable to play a part.

The echoes of a heavy cannonade were the feature of Tuesday. This led us
to infer that the much-vaunted "siege train" (which was the talk of the
city) had begun its work of devastation. The inspiration of itself would
not have been the harbinger of consolation--we were long listening to
sound and fury, meaning nothing--but we were quick to associate it with
the unfurling of the Flag, to put the two "straws" together--and sigh!

"The Column," our Gazette asserted, "had made a most successful
_reconnaissance_." But experience had taught us how to estimate a bald,
non-committal statement of that kind. Our faith in the Column had been
shaken; so much so that cynics hummed, with impunity, that the "little
British army goes a long, long way." We dared to doubt the bellipotence
of the Column. The wisdom of self-help was brought home to us at last.
We were fast learning to put not our trust in Columns, and to ponder the
possibility, handicapped though we were, of hewing from within a way to
freedom.