The Boers are determined to keep us amused, and do not approve of the Free Press; they have just now blown the newspaper office, by our dug-out, to pieces, and are trying to silence our mild manifestations of joy by particularly heavy shell fire. This afternoon we tried our new gun again on the veldt, with bursting charges in the shells, and the results were eminently satisfactory; they afforded a certain amount of interest to the garrison of Game Tree fort, who, as the gun was pointed almost at right angles to them, bobbed somewhat unnecessarily to each discharge. The explosion of the shell might well have puzzled them for it was exactly like the discharge of another gun. It is a shame to be cooped up here in such weather, "where all around is beautiful and only Boers are vile," and if they had any sense of decency or humour they would give us one good fight to finish, as it is we hang on in trenches into which they cannot possibly come, they hang on in opposing trenches into which we cannot afford to go, exchanges of shots go on all day, varied by shell fire on their part, which is becoming monotonous, and the dullest, deadest level of warfare has been effectually attained. To-day we had our little joke; a dummy truck was placed on the line about two miles south of the town, some snipers fired a few shots from it and then abandoned it, they were, however, successful in drawing the fire from the quick-firer Krupp and one-pound Maxim at Jackal Tree with occasional shots from the big gun; they made execrable shooting, but killed some cattle and a horse or two in a remote portion of the veldt, and unfortunately killed the Sergeant-Major of the Black Watch, a fine Zulu over six feet four inches: a one-pound Maxim hit him clean in the head. Yesterday, too, Trooper Elkington, a particularly smart, good-looking fellow in the Cape Police, was struck in the face by a five-pound shell, and his nose and eyes destroyed; he still lives, poor fellow. _Apropos_ of Zulus, there is a mad Zulu in the town who, when the frenzy seizes him, strips, and indulges in a war dance in front of the Boers; how many thousand rounds of ammunition they have fired at him it would be hard to say, but one day for certain they fired a five nine-pounder Krupp at him, the only result being that he assegaied the spot were each shell fell. My own personal experience of him was aggravating. One day having selected a secluded spot with good cover from which to snipe, and thinking myself exceedingly well concealed, I was much annoyed by the inordinate amount of bullets which came my way, and whilst waiting till they stopped a bit, happened to look round and discovered that my friend, stark naked, was dancing about a hundred yards in rear of me, when he had finished he put on his clothes and went home. He is still alive, and dancing when inclined. Mr. Whales, who has edited _The Mafeking Mail_ and brought out daily editions throughout