I have just been reading Dr. Ashe's book, _Besieged by the Boers_, and it gives a good idea of the daily life up here, showing how men tried to go on and do their daily round of work in spite of the shells that were falling and killing not only men but women and children around them. The thing that Kimberley people are most proud of is the big gun "Long Cecil," which was most cleverly designed and made in the De Beers workshops during the siege, the shells for it also being cast there; until that was built they had _no_ guns of sufficient size to reply to the 100-pounder that the Boers were using with so much effect upon the town. It must have been a huge surprise to them when Long Cecil began to scatter shells amongst them, each one inscribed, "With C. J. R.'s compliments!" The cemetery is sadly full of "siege" graves, and so many little children's graves amongst them. Strangely enough one of the De Beers engineers (an American) who was chiefly responsible for the building of "Long Cecil," was killed by a Boer shell only a few days after the gun was completed; and, just as an example of how we were surrounded by enemies even inside the town, I will tell you about his funeral. In such a hot climate as South Africa it is always necessary that the funeral should take place within about twenty-four hours of the death; so that it is quite possible to be talking to a man in his shop or at his business in the morning, for him to be taken suddenly ill and die that evening, and the next day, before you have heard of his illness, for you to meet his coffin on the way to the cemetery. Well, this poor engineer was a very popular man, and the Commandant thought that many people would wish to attend his funeral, so he gave directions that it should be at night, for safety from the Boer shells. Late in the evening, when it was quite dark, the funeral left the hospital; but it had no sooner started than a rocket was seen to go up _in_ the town, evidently a pre-arranged signal--for almost at once the Boers began to drop shells around the cemetery, but fortunately no one was killed. Perhaps you have heard in England of the little girl who knew so much about martial law that she strayed into the Provost's office one day in December and said, "Please, sir, may I have a permit for Santa Claus to come to our house!" All food seems to be frightfully expensive still: we have to pay about 8s. for a single fowl or duck, 4s. a dozen for eggs, and 2s. 6d. a pound for butter. We have a white woman as cook, and our black boy rejoices in the name of "Moses." I had not been here many days before "George" came to see me--the boy I used to have ten years ago. It is extraordinary how these natives know when one returns, even years afterwards. Of course George wanted to come back, but I found he was in a good place, so I told him I was soon going back to England, and I did not take him on.