They turned us out of the field hospital one night at 9, and we were jolted along in buck-waggons till 5 the next morning, then a halt of 5 hours, and at last we got to Norval's Pont at 5 p.m., after the worst journey I ever hope to have. It was quite a treat seeing trees again, as some of the country we passed through was really pretty. Our ambulance train consisted of layers of stretchers, one above the other, on a large "bogey" truck. At Springfontein, we were entrusted to a German ambulance, from Hamburg, covered with crosses, doctors, nurses and patient helps, but they were very kind to us. We got news daily from the station telegraphist, Mr. Fryer, and Mr. Shipp, also employed on the station, till the escape from Pretoria put an end to our visitors. The hospital was half full of Boers, and they seemed perfectly happy sitting still the whole day long doing nothing, but smoking hard. Two engines were always left ready for emergency, the line being 100 yards away, so sleep at night was a matter of difficulty. Just when I was hoping we should be relieved, they moved us under the safe keeping of a Bloemfontein policeman in a gorgeous blue uniform to the Volks Hospital here, passing through hundreds of sleeping burghers in the station. Here we languished in the utmost comfort, till the famous Tuesday when little black specks on the veldt and the arrival here of "Bobs" made our scarce-believing eyes quite certain that we were no longer Boer prisoners. ANON. * * * * * ENTERIC FEVER. BY AN ARMY SURGEON. No disease causes such havoc in modern campaigns as typhoid or enteric fever, and it becomes the duty of every one having authority to impress this fact upon the men committed to their charge. More especially is this duty imperative when troops are on the march, for many a valuable life is thrown away by the want of the strong hand of a wise discipline. When thirsty, men will drink anything, and it is here that good may be done. It is reported that one regiment on the march recently made the use of water-bottles a matter of drill, the word of command being given every hour for a mouthful of water to be drunk. As a result, men arrived in many cases at their bivouac with some water still left from their morning supply, without being one whit more thirsty than their neighbours.