and the hills all round were bright with wreaths of flame from the bush. We were all too much excited to obtain much repose, and at daylight the next morning the warning bugles of the 90th gave note of preparation for their departure, with part of the 91st, for Fort Beaufort, with supplies and ammunition. Great doubts were entertained as to whether this long train of waggons, with its slender guard, would be permitted to pass unmolested through the Ecca Valley, twelve miles from Graham's Town, the road winding along the edge of a precipice, and being commanded by a steep krantz. From this narrow road, where only one waggon at a time can pass with safety, you look down on a bush so dense that hundreds of savages might be concealed there; and, on the opposite side, tremendous mountains, fit haunts for the savage, or the wild beast, slope down, overshadowing the valley with awful gloom; while the mocking echoes give back the sharp slash of the waggoner's whip, or the crack of the traveller's rifle, with a strange precision. Every precaution was taken to ensure a safe passage through this defile, and a slow match was so placed in the ammunition-waggon that, had the Kaffirs poured suddenly upon the party in such numbers as to render it impossible to save all the waggons, the ammunition was to be left in their hands as an instrument of destruction. Happily, the party met with no obstruction; but all the day long we were listening in expectation of the explosion in the Ecca. Meanwhile, farms still blazed around us, the hills were obscured by smoke, and, as night approached, fresh rumours arose of "Kaffirs close to the town." About ten o'clock, we were again warned of danger; our first notice was the blast of the bugle sounding the "alarm" close to our windows. Fatigued with the watching and excitement of the previous night, we had retired early to rest. We were up in an instant. Lucifers were at a premium that night, I am sure: great was the smell of brimstone--fit atmosphere for the expected foe. Still, we had become too much accustomed to the cry of "Kaffirs!" to feel great alarm; and, to say truth, there was something in being within stone walls, and under a roof on which the brand could take no effect. Hark!--the gun booms from the battery above. What a volume of sound rolls through the heavy air! Another blast from the bugle, taken up and echoed back by others! Another sound of cannon from a piece of artillery, within three hundred yards of us! How the windows rattle!-- how the roof shivers! We are all up and astir--the children laugh, and cry, and look bewildered--and the monkey hides whatever is most wanted-- and the doors fly open, and there are--not Kaffirs--only terrified women and children seeking refuge.