unction with the
ever-increasing seriousness of our position they were hard to bear with
patience. Our hopes of relief were at _zero_. "Three months more" would
sum up a fair consensus of opinion in regard to the further continuance
of the Siege. Oh, it was said, the food would not last so long. But it
had been undergoing such a process of stretching; who knew how much
farther it would not be carried. The authorities were capable of
anything. A death or two (or twenty-two!) from starvation would not
soften hearts obsessed by an elusive "Situation." Surrender, however,
was out of the question; having gone so far we could not turn back. The
Flag, too, whatever the Standard-bearers might be, was worth keeping
aloft. Exacting too much it was; but there was no alternative, save
surrender, to the lowering of it.

Our mental machinery being thus rusted for want of the oil of
contentment it is not incomprehensible that the bulk of the people
should have come to regard the Siege as a thing interminable; and faith
in miracles was not the average citizen's predominant characteristic.
The mere mention of the Column provoked a jeer. Numerous philosophers
came into being. Shakespeare was never so highly appreciated, nor so
famous; never reckoned so "clever," nor quoted so generally; scarcely
heard of before, indeed, by some of the new philosophers. His Hamlet's
soliloquy (which accorded with our mood) was considered very good.

Monday came and went quietly enough, the enemy's attention being given
entirely to Kenilworth. It made no difference to us whether the cattle
lived or died; we regarded the assault as a waste of energy. A few
horses--the irony of it!--were slaughtered by the shells intended for
the oxen. The mutilation of the latter would have been far more
advantageous to the _Civil_ "Situation," and--how nice if the Boers had
been better shots!

Throughout Tuesday a good many interchanges took place between the rival
artillerists. Long Cecil made some excellent practice, while the Boers
occupied themselves with Beaconsfield. A few raps were attempted at the
_Sanatorium_ hall-door, as an intimation that a special eye ogled the
visitors; and some projectiles which fell in the rear of the Kimberley
Club indicated that the same vigilant optic was alive to the fact that
Rhodes lunched there. It may here be mentioned that Mr. Rhodes often
brought his lunch--fresh eggs and the like!--to the hospital to give to
some wounded soldi