The first march from Carolina took us over a ridge by Nelspruit, where we witnessed a very pretty engagement. The enemy had taken up a position on top of a hill crossed by three deep ravines at right angles to our line of advance. This was stormed by the Suffolk Infantry while we acted as escort to the guns, which shelled the enemy severely as they left the shelter of the last ridge. When turned out of their last stronghold they retired by ones and twos under severe shrapnel fire at 1,500 yards’ range, which gave us an object-lesson in Mounted Infantry tactics. At Carolina, with General French and his Cavalry, we halted two days, and resumed our advance on Sunday the 9th. We had heard that the Boers were in the vicinity, and it was not long before we met them. For about six miles we marched across the absolutely flat veldt, and then with extraordinary suddenness the scene changed, and we found ourselves among steep and rugged hills. Here was ideal country for the Boers to fight in, and they speedily let us know of their presence. They had taken up a strong position among rocks and piled-up boulders on the further side of a hollow some 3,000 yards across. ‘Lumsden’s,’ together with a part of a squadron of the 18th Hussars who, like ourselves, had been unable to get remounts in Pretoria, so that their numbers were reduced about 60 per cent., were escorting the guns. M Battery R.H.A. swung ‘action front’ and had opened fire in next to no time, the whole battery and also two 15-pounders being placed in line along the ridge and all pounding away at the rocky kopje, or rather series of kopjes, from which the Boers were firing at our Infantry (the Suffolk Regiment), who now opened out, and, advancing to within good rifle range, took what cover they could find and engaged the enemy. It was a grand sight watching the play of the guns, and cheer after cheer rang through the lines as each shot fell in rapid succession right in among the Boers, scattering them like startled sheep. The guns did splendid work; the range was accurate, and the shells perfect. But a grander sight still was to watch Tommy advancing: he does it in a most casual way, with his rifle slung at ease over his shoulder. You see individuals in khaki stumbling over rocks and boulders, then a thin line of khaki in the distance, then nothing, for Tommy is resting; the thin khaki line again becomes visible as he proceeds in the coolest manner in the world, till the order to fire is given. Nothing is then visible, but the sounds of volley after volley and independent firing tell you the Infantry are in the thick of a fight. As the Mounted Infantry advance through the gaps in their lines, Tommy cheerily calls out, ‘Let ’em have it ’ot, mate.’ Having placed our horses in a nullah out of the way of stray bullets—one or two of which came whistling overhead—we