At half-past four o'clock (November 6th), the word was given to move off in quarter-distance column of sub-divisions; not a bugle sounded, and with feelings of unusual excitement the brigade quitted its ground, and marched across the open flats towards the head of the Waterkloof Pass. The mountain was enveloped in clouds so dense that we could not see more than twenty yards before us, until about six, when a gentle breeze cleared the summit of the ridge, and left the clouds floating like a vast sea below our feet, completely shutting out the lower world, the tops of one or two of the higher hills, appearing through the motionless expanse, looked exactly like islands, some wooded, others bare and rocky, with jutting peninsulas stretching out, as it were, into the smooth water. At seven o'clock Lieut.-Col. Sutton's force was reported to be moving up along the Waterkloof valley towards its head, and to cover its advance Colonel Fordyce immediately placed his brigade in position on the ridge, and extending four companies of our regiment, supported by two of the 12th, advanced towards the belt of bush intersecting the enemy's position, which we entered without much opposition, and occupied for the next six hours. The village at the head of the Pass having been rebuilt, in a great measure, since our last attack, an order was given for volunteers to advance and set fire to it, and, with a party of four men, I had the pleasure a second time of burning the whole of the huts to the ground, with all they contained, together with a large quantity of bullocks horns and hides, stored up for future trading. I had a narrow escape of being shot by the Rebels, who kept up an irregular fire upon us from the wood the whole time; a ball whirring close past my ear as I was kneeling down blowing away at a bunch of lighted dry grass which I had stuck into the wall of a hut, and sending the reeds and mud plaster flying into my face. The village being destroyed, skirmishers were again thrown forward into the forest, and we were ordered to work our way through it to turn the left flank of the enemy's position on a ridge of rocks, unapproachable from the front. An occasional bang, bang, from the thickets, followed by the crashing of balls through the cover, as we advanced, kept us all on the _qui vive_. Nothing more difficult and trying can be imagined than our laborious progress through this all but impracticable forest, studded throughout with enormous masses of detached rock, overgrown with wild vines, twining asparagus trees, endless monkey ropes and other creepers, so strong, and so thickly interlaced as almost to put a stop to our advance; covered with dense thorny underwood, concealing dangerous clefts and crevices, and strewed with fallen trees in every stage of decay, while the hooked thorns of the "wait a bit" clinging to our arms and legs, snatching the caps off our heads, and tearing clothes and flesh, impeded us at every step.