tside. But a soldier's training takes no account of these things,
and you instinctively jump out half-dressed, and help to shovel more
sacks in, you don't know why, or what they are. Being woken up, we got
on to the platform over an intervening train, and sent cables home
from an office standing invitingly open. Then to bed again. Later, in
my dreams, I was aware of a sergeant and an irascible little
station-master coming into the carriage with lanterns and throwing
most of the sacks out again, which it seemed had been annexed
feloniously by our Captain, at the last station, in his zeal to keep
our 'stomachs full.' I was glad to get rid of the sacks, as they
filled our carriage up completely. The train has to stop for about
three-quarters of an hour or less, three times a day, for feeding and
watering the horses. The first stop to-day was about 6.30 A.M. We
tumbled out in the delicious fresh air, and formed into pre-arranged
feeding and watering parties. I am on the feed party of our
subdivision, and we climbed like beetles up the sides of the trucks,
which are open, and strap on the nose-bags. Then we washed at a
friendly tap, and had our own breakfast which the cooks had
cooked--coffee and porridge. Then we climbed back and took off
nose-bags, and then the train went on. At this station we
'commandeered' a splendid table in the shape of a large square tin
advertisement of a certain Scotch whisky, and played whist on it after
breakfast. The train wound slowly through a barren stretch of brown
plain and rocky wild. Stations happened now and then, little silent
spots in the wilderness, their _raison d'etre_ a mystery, no houses,
roads, or living things near, except a white tent or two, and some
sunburnt men in khaki looking curiously at us. There are troops in
small bodies all up the line in this 'loyal' colony. At one station
the Kimberley mail caught us up, and the people threw us magazines and
biscuits from the windows. All engines and stations were decorated
with flags in honour of the relief of Mafeking, the news of which came
through yesterday. A hospital train bound to Capetown also passed,
with some pale faces and bandaged limbs in evidence.

"At 1.30 we stopped again for feed and water, and when we went on our
mess sat down to the following lunch, which I think does credit to our
catering powers.

MENU.

R.B.S.
Emergency Soup.
Cold Roast Fowl, with Stuffing.
Bully Beef, with Mustard.
Whiskied