"August 1st.--Kaffir fires seen in the distance: in the evening, received intelligence from head-quarters relative to Colonel Somerset's engagements on the other side of the Kei, and capture of the cattle. "Colonel Somerset could have captured more than he did, but he had not force to retain them. Every night his bivouacs were surrounded by Kaffirs, who fired continually into them; sometimes in derision, at others in anger. Some called out to the troops, `Take care of the calves you have got, we will have them in two years!' Others exclaimed, `Let us rush upon them!' `No, no,' said another party, `who ever heard of attacking a kraal of guns?' Some crept nearer the bivouac, and entreated their favourite pack-oxen to come out to them: `What business,' said they, `have you among white men? Come out to us--we will treat you kindly. Leave the Umlunghi, who will ill-use you and make you work.' "Thus they harassed the troops during the whole march; hanging on their rear in the day-time, and, at night, obliging them to keep up a constant peppering. At the drifts there was always troublesome work. "August 2nd, Sunday.--I am always more impressed with the strange appearance of the town on Sunday than on any other day; every one who can, making his way to church, and business suspended; shots, too, above the town along the hills, and the rattle of arms and accoutrements in the streets, are more audible on Sunday than in the bustling week-days, Another thing I have frequently remarked; the news of whatever occurs in the field generally reaches us on the Sabbath, and we often say, `To-day is Sunday: I wonder what intelligence we shall have.' "August 3rd.--A beautiful day. It is quite grievous--yes, melancholy, to see the sun scorching the earth, and know that the cattle must die for want of food, and that there will be no vegetation this year. We have had no rain for months, except slight showers for a day or two. To-day, some young girls have assembled in my cottage-garden to celebrate a birthday. What a relief it is to have left the confinement of the dreadful barrack for this small cottage on the hill! We are scarcely considered in a safe position, but we grew weary of the gaol-like Drostdy, and succeeded in getting shelter at Fort England-- misnamed a fort--where a few of the 91st are in quarters.