Several odd cases have been straying in, and on the 17th we took in five officers, and then on the 19th of last month we admitted eight officers and thirty men from Modder Spruit, most of them very ill, and one poor fellow so bad with hæmorrhage (enteric) that he died the same night. We had to open a second officers' ward, and the sister put in charge was very hopeless (at having so many bad cases, and such inefficient help); so I had to spend a good deal of time helping her look after the worst cases, and then the next morning after they arrived I found she had dengue fever and could not come on duty; so I had to take charge of her ward for a few days, and do the best I could in looking after the patients with the help of the orderlies, amidst constant interruptions and appeals for help or advice from different parts of the camp. With every one so new to the work--the cook quite unused to military ways or the serving of hospital diets, the storekeeper hardly knowing where anything is, or whether he ought to issue it when he did know, ten Kaffir women washing who could not read the marks on the linen, and so were quite incapable of returning it to the right place without my assistance, and, to do the house work, several new Kaffir boys who really are quite "raw" and want constant looking after (they rejoice in the names of John, Monday, Charlie, and Cup-of-tea; they can speak about six words of English between them, and it is awfully funny hearing the orderlies trying to make them understand), with much other work needing to be done in connection with fitting up new wards and preparing for our opening day ceremony--you can imagine it was difficult to be tied up in one ward with a lot of sick officers who required one's best attention, and more; but it had to be done, and I had to leave the rest to do the best they could, only going round to attend to the most necessary things when I could spare half-an-hour in the day, and after the night sister came on at night.