30th. The results of our ancient piece’s firing last night has been that the laager has shifted away, in the direction of Signal Hill, and that the Boers generally have been so busy that they have not yet found time (mid-day) to discharge their Creuzot gun. There was an alarm, last night, and the eastern front and reserve squadron were held in readiness all night. Yesterday the Boers re-established themselves on the nearest brick-kiln, and a sniping entertainment was organized for them by Corporal Currie, C.P., who has charge of the Cape Boy Post, within three hundred yards. One Boer, who for some extraordinary reason, wore a white shirt (which he will never do again) occasionally showed his back over the edge of a shelter he was constructing for himself, acting apparently on the principle of the ostrich, Trooper Piper of the Cape Police eventually got him, and at the same moment, his friend who was firing from a loop-hole, fired at Piper; fortunately Currie, who was covering the loop-hole, fired almost simultaneously and got him too, to the huge delight of the Cape Boys; stretchers came up under the Red Cross and removed the bodies, the second man was a bearded man and a well known sniper, he was an excellent shot, and the news of his demise was received with universal pleasure by the garrison, while for the rest of the day his friends made the post very warm for its occupants. 31st. There is one effect of this continual shell fire which is perhaps undesirable, and that is the remarkable degree of selfishness it engenders. There is really nothing to do and no excitement. News is rare, and not always of the best, and with lack of the proper amount of exercise and the frequent ringing of bells, which are almost as bad as the shells themselves, tempers get short, and the solicitude on "No. 1’s" account increases. However, entertainments like the one organized this evening, go far to relieve our spleen and vary the interminable monotony of the siege. We were warned in the afternoon that our artillery was going to bombard the Boer lines, and from various points of vantage numerous spectators strolled out to look on. Personally, I made my way to the trench running from Ellis’s corner to the river, and selected a spot where I was well away from other people, and which commanded a good view of the Boer trench, and, above all, of the big gun, which showed clearly against the white marquees in rear of it. At the time there was no firing going on, and cattle on both sides were being brought home. Absolute stillness reigned, only broken by the lowing of the beasts, the sounds of the poultry yards, and the barking of dogs. These, with the drowsy hum of the insects, made one feel extremely sleepy, and one might well have imagined oneself lolling between two peaceful villages at home. However, at 5.30 p.m. a change came very distinctly "o’er the spirit of the dream." Our guns commenced, three seven-pounders and the Nordenfeldt, and steadily