11th, Sunday. I was aroused about dawn by musketry fire, and as I heard no more, supposed I had been dreaming, but when starting for my early ride, was told there had been heavy firing to the east. I went to Fort Ayr, from whence the Boer fort seemed ridiculously close, and so on to the Cape Police fort, and from there the Boer sniping station looked within six hundred yards. I was, however, informed that it was a good sixteen hundred yards off. It was a perfectly lovely morning, and had one’s horse only felt as fresh as the morning, the ride would have been indeed enjoyable, but the stress of the siege in the way of shortness of provisions has fallen far more severely on the horses than the human beings. From this fort I rode to the B. Squadron horse lines. The horses are not at present a pleasing spectacle, but, owing to our extended grazing ground, I dare say they could still do some work. Sundry of them are killed and turned into billtong for the Kaffirs. Thence along the picturesque bank of the Molopo, through the centre of the stadt to breakfast at Captain Marsh’s. This officer, whose squadron has held the stadt since the commencement of the siege, has, from his West Coast experiences, a wonderful knack of dealing with natives, and in a great measure the absolute confidence of the Baralongs in the white garrison may be ascribed to him, they have accordingly constituted him a sort of universal referee in all their local troubles. After breakfast we walked out from the edge of the stadt to the two forts occupied by Sergeant Abrahams and his detachment of natives, within six hundred yards of which are situated the Boer forts, also garrisoned by natives. Between the opposing forts both sides rambled at their own sweet will. We then went on to Fort Cronje, originally in the occupation of the Boers, and having attained our utmost limits we sat and smoked and looked at the stadt (distant about a mile), and appreciated how Mafeking looked to the Boers from their western outposts. Personally, the northern end of the stadt reminds me of nothing so much as the Curragh Camp when viewed from the Newbridge Road, and, indeed, the veldt all round looked fresh, green, and undulating enough for the Curragh itself. Fort Cronje is enfiladed by the blockhouse north of the Molopo. Eastward from Sergeant Abrahams’ fort, and in a circular direction across the railway line towards Cannon Kopje, extend forts occupied by McKenzie’s contingent. We thus now have a large and secure grazing ground, the area of which I had not previously appreciated. We strolled back to the stadt and rode back to shop and church. During the morning and afternoon occurred some of those interchanges of courtesy between ourselves and our opponents, which generally do take place on Sunday. Corporal Currie, who during the week spends all his time in endeavouring to slay and not be slain by the Boers, was called over by them to translate a note they had received.