L. was the worst, but he did not seem in any special danger till last Wednesday: on that day I was Orderly Sister for the afternoon, and on my first round I talked to them all, and he seemed much as usual, but on my second round I found him distinctly worse, and with a failing pulse. I called his doctor, and we tried everything possible, but he soon became unconscious, and died at 7.30 P.M. All the orderlies are dreadfully cut up; several of them come from the same place in Yorks. He was such a fine, strong young fellow, and it seems only the other day that he was acting as groom, and put me up on the black pony, and was so pleased I could manage him. He was a butcher by trade, rough in his ways, but so good-natured; I must write to his poor mother. He had a military funeral, and we let every orderly go who could be spared. The clergyman asked me if the men would like to have a hymn in church, so we sang "Brief life is here our portion." Several people sent wreaths, and the men are going to make a wooden cross. This was the first death amongst our staff. Having so many orderlies ill, and the place pretty full, we have been very busy, and many of the men have had to do eighteen-hour shifts every two or three days: that is to say, their usual twelve-hour day and half the night. So they are having a heavy time of it. Enclosure:-- SISTER'S "DAY OFF" There once was a Sister called Baker, Of beds she's an excellent maker, She knows temperatures too, And between "me and you" Is of medicines an excellent shaker. She shows each man's vice--how to treat it, And warns Sister H. how to meet it: "No. 2 you can trust But show T-- a crust, Well, it's a thousand to one he'll eat it." She dilates on the treatment we need, All our habits, our drinks, our feed; "I repeat, Mr. T-- Doesn't realise all, but He cannot be trusted for greed." "Mr. N--, however, is wise, At the sight of eggs hard boiled he sighs, D-- eschew them I must And that beautiful crust, For on me Sister Baker relies." You may ask how we know what was said The culprit there lying in bed, Overheard in the dark, The whispered remark, And tears of hot anger he shed. The moral is not far to seek: A crust perforates you when weak, While eavesdropping at night Is really not right For it's apt to raise anger and pique. (_With apologies to the Authors._) XXXII PINETOWN, NATAL, _July 1900_. Since my last letter we have had a good many changes of patients, some being sent back to the front, and others going home by various hospital ships. It is so nice to see some who were carried in desperately ill, able to march down to the train so cheery and bright, and tremendously grateful.