Meanwhile Long Cecil, successfully treated, was again in the arena. A
few "compliments" were jerked at the Kamfers Dam Laager; the Boers were
made to feel that they had a foeman to deal with worthy of their lead.
The success of the gun and the skill of him who made it were on every
lip. The theme occasioned as much enthusiasm as could be expected from
hearts saddened by disconsolation. And the man in the moon, too far
distant to betray the grimness of his smile, looked silently on.
Favourable accounts of the progress of events in Natal conduced to the
serenity of the evening. The night was so still and grand that it seemed
almost a pity to seek refuge in repose; and when ultimately we did
persuade ourselves to retire it was to dream of Long Cecil and his
potentialities--a sanguine dream of self-reliance and ability to burst
our bonds.

But, oh! what a change came over its spirit in the middle of the night;
when startled from our slumbers by the hissing of shells in the streets
we awoke to a sense of what was real. In the blackness of the early
morning it was hard to connect the booming of cannon with reality. The
shells were falling and bursting in rapid succession. It was the
inauguration of a nerve-ordeal; the prelude to a terrible day; the
beginning of a bombardment long-sustained and fierce.

Not for long did the guns blaze in vain. A young girl lay dead, struck
down in the privacy of her bedroom. Shell after shell came whistling
through the air, jeopardising the reason of scared women, in terror for
the safety of their children. Men rushed about everywhere seeking
shelter for their families. A gentleman walking in the Dutoitspan Road
had his hat unroofed, and a young lad was prematurely put out at elbow
by a piece of shell which passed through the sleeve of his coat. Half a
score of guns poured forth a heavy fusillade until eight o'clock, when a
short interval for breakfast was conceded.

Fast and furious fell the instruments of destruction into every street
and alley that throbbed with human life--smashing tables and delfware,
ripping up floors, and spreading alarm abroad in the land. The Public
Library was the recipient of a missile that played havoc with a hoary
tome. Public buildings and churches were peppered indiscriminately.
Saint Cyprian's--ventilated before in the same accidental fashion--was
holed again. All Saints' fared little better. The Catholic Cathedral was
slightly damaged. Saint Augustine's was