We marched early in falling sleet, to join the other brigade, on the ridge facetiously denominated "Mount Pleasant." Several large Kaffir fires were seen on the heights on the opposite side of the Waterkloof valley, the smoke hanging heavily in the damp air. The tops of the distant mountains and most of the nearer peaks were white with snow that had fallen during the night, and the breeze from that direction blew so bitterly cold on our saturated clothes, that we were perfectly benumbed in our light marching dress, which, though warmer than agreeable under the mid-day sun, was a very indifferent protection against such weather. On reaching the bivouac of the brigade in occupation, we found they had suffered much more than ourselves; the chill wind swept unbroken over the bleak exposed ridge which was covered with snow, and the trenches which the men had dug before the rain came on, to sleep in under shelter of the earth thrown out of them, were full of water. A consultation took place between the two Commanders as to the advisability, or rather practicability of making any movement in such weather. During this, partly to keep themselves warm, and partly to commemorate the death of an unfortunate Kaffir spy whom they had just assegaied, the Fingoes gathered in a circle and performed a war dance, with unusually savage yells and gesticulations. The rain was evidently determined to make a day of it, and about eleven o'clock we were driven back again to our old bivouac,--of the very sight of which we were thoroughly weary. It had been visited during our absence by the Kaffirs, the spoor of whose bare feet was traceable round nearly every fire, on which we found they had been roasting the offal of our slaughtered cattle, and actually eating the bones, which were gnawed off, as if by large dogs. The sloppy ground, after twenty-four hours' rain, and trampling of men, horses and cattle, had become a perfect bog, in which we sank at every step; and with the driving rain, which, like a white cloud, came sweeping across the bleak plain till it dashed in our faces, with the fitful gusts of wind that scattered the ashes of our wretched fires in every direction, our day's halt was anything but a lounge. One of our men, wounded in the fight of the day before, died in the afternoon, and was buried near the graves of Norris and the other brave fellows interred here. The pitiless rain changed only for sleet at night, and the men suffered very much, their blankets having been completely soaked as well as their clothes for many hours, while the ground was unfit even for the cattle and horses to lie on. In the morning we found ourselves whitened over with hail and sleet, the fog so thick that all operations, were out of the question, and another day in this cheerful spot was before us. All day long the belt of wood rang with the sound of the axe; Officers and men, for the sake of exercise, busily occupied themselves in cutting