England in December! I shall _never_ forget it! I couldn’t sleep for _nights_ and _nights_, and Vicky Masham told me the Queen’s health received such a shock that she will never be quite the same again.... Of course, now we can breathe once more. As you are on the spot and I dare say in the thick of it all, I need not tell you how things have gone since Bobs and K. of K. came out. Well, of course, with all this going on in South Africa you couldn’t expect any loyal Englishwoman who wasn’t positively tied down by home duties to remain at home. So I sent Clithy to Eton—he’s nearly thirteen now—and kept on his governess to mother him when he comes from school, and also confided him to the general care of Maurice, whom he likes. By the bye, I’ve pensioned off old Flower now, or at least got rid of him with a premium, and Maurice is full Agent, and I’ve advised Maurice to take on as an assistant Harden, the County cricketer, your wife’s brother-in-law! Well. Having done all this and girded up my loins, so to speak, I made interest with old General de Gobyns at the War Office—such an old darling—he served with Wellington, I believe—and came out here with Landolphia Birchall, to supervise hospitals and give a general eye to the sick and wounded, read to them, write letters home for them, change their bandages, if it isn’t too complicated—and so on. It was partly the thought that you were out here that decided me to come. Don’t forget if you are wounded or ill to let me know and I will try to come to you or get you put into one of my hospitals. That _would_ be jolly! Landolphia is a funny old party! She must be quite fifty. She was so ill crossing the Bay of Biscay. Owing to the disgraceful amount of room the staff officers took up on the steamer she and I were jammed together into one cabin. Where our maids were put, _I_ don’t know—in the stoke-hole I think. But we scarcely saw them all the voyage and when we landed Sophie gave me notice at once, only she can’t get a passage home so she has had to let it stand over till I choose to return. Of course, under the circumstances, Landolphia could keep nothing back from me—she was _so_ sea-sick; as she said, that she felt herself naked, face to face with her Maker. So everything had to be explained—her secrets of make-up, her sachets of peau d’espagne, her dress improvers and peculiar stays and adjusted shoes. I suppose (though I laughed inwardly till I _ached_, she looked so droll when she was taken to pieces) I must have been good to her in her dire affliction, for she’s clung to me ever since, and says we are sisters without a secret between us. After all, with all these infirmities and "adjustments" she was a plucky old thing ever to come out. Now she thinks it an awful lark—