driver ignorant of the existence of his distinguished passenger. Before dawn, therefore, he emerged from the coal-heap, and with a flying leap landed flat on the railroad. He gathered himself together, and by sunrise was concealed in a wood, his only companion for some time being a vulture. The sojourn in the cool boskage of the Transvaal was fraught with good luck, and at dusk when the fugitive emerged he was another man. At last he was able to gather his forces together for another trip on a passing train. There was always danger though--danger because it was necessary to hug the line, and where the line was, there also were railway guards, or at least humanity--inimical humanity, who most probably were plotting his ruin. Plod, plod, plod; so passed the hours, scrambling along in the dead of night through sluits and dongas in the effort to avoid the direct neighbourhood of huts, bridges, stations, and yet keep in touch with the winding iron track that led to the longed-for sea. For five days and nights he persevered, tramping after dark and sneaking under cover all day, and dimly conscious that the hue and cry had gone forth, and that every man's hand in the enemy's country was now turned against him. On the sixth day he managed again with amazing good fortune to safely board a train, and this time it was one going from Middleburg to Delagoa Bay. Again he burrowed among sacks and carefully hid himself, so carefully, indeed, that owing to his extreme precaution discovery was evaded. The train was searched, the sacks were prodded. Deep down, scarcely daring to breathe, lay the man they were seeking--an inch or two off--just an inch or two off. He drew a long breath and praised God for his escape. After that he passed some sixty hours in all the agonies of suspense. Famine and thirst preyed on him, and active horror lest all his exertions should be in vain, lest, at the very last moment, the whole struggle of hope and wretchedness would end in dire and fatal disaster. But he was preserved. He arrived at Lourenco Marques on the 21st of December, and from there proceeded to Natal. "I am very weak, but I am free." Such were the words of his telegram; no wired words ever meant more. "I have lost many pounds in weight, but I am lighter in heart; and I avail myself of this moment, which is a witness to my earnestness, to urge an unflinching and uncompromising prosecution of the war." In regard to Mr. Winston Churchill's arrival among his friends in Natal, an eye-witness wrote:--