the necessaries of life prohibited luxuries for a man who had no more than his shilling a day to spend. One of Lumsden’s Horse who was sent into Bloemfontein on orderly duty gives a vivid sketch of all this in a few touches that are the more graphic because they only pretend to note passing impressions. Writing a day after B Company’s arrival at Deel’s Farm, he shows how the men had to rub their horses down while standing inches deep in mud. So much rain was out of season, but South Africa is, like other places, occasionally fickle in this respect. To troopers it did not seem an ideal way of spending Easter Monday, and the whistle, of which officers made free use, must have been irritating to nerves already overstrained, for it is never mentioned without a forcible prefix. However, when rain ceased and sunshine appeared for an hour in the afternoon, these men were merry enough at a game of cricket, which, by violating all the higher rules, must have reminded them of similar sports in England when they were boys and welcomed Easter Monday as the day of all others appropriate to cricket. The next morning a great cheer rolled from camp to camp, and Lumsden’s Horse, responding lustily, passed it on to the next without asking what the unusual excitement meant. When they heard afterwards that troops were cheering because ‘Kruger had surrendered,’ a strange depression took hold of them. At that moment all the discomforts and drudgery of a soldier’s life were forgotten in the humiliating thought that the corps would have to go back to India without a chance of proving itself in battle. It turned out, however, to be all mere rumour, though not so baseless as some of which Lumsden’s Horse had after-experience. The Transvaal President’s offer to negotiate for peace on terms all in his own favour must have been known in England then, and in some mysterious way a reflex of it came to camps on the veldt, where troops, who had seen plenty of the fighting that Lumsden’s Horse were eager for, welcomed the illusive tidings with a cheer. In its train, however, came something nearly as good—a post bringing letters from ‘England, home, and beauty,’ and for one non-commissioned officer at least ‘a parcel full of excellent things.’ Before he had time to enjoy these he was under orders for Bloemfontein, and after a ride through pouring rain he got there in time to hear another disconcerting rumour, and to find some of his comrades selling their kit because ‘they had been ordered back.’ Wisely resolving not to act on anything but definite orders, and, taking the advice of a corporal in the City Imperial Volunteers, who persuaded him ‘to sit tight,’ he waited, making the best of circumstances that were by no means bright according to his own brief record, which runs, ‘No dinner to be had at the station. Got tea sixpence a cup, bread and jam sixpence.’ Hungry and dispirited, he turned in and went to bed at the