seeing no appearance of Colonel Eyre, I determined to clear out the above-named shop, and there await further orders. Firstly, I was induced to do this by the Hottentots, who, seeing my inaction, had crept somewhat disagreeably close, and opened a galling fire; and secondly, by the supposition that if, by some mischance, Colonel Eyre should not appear, I was by my inaction increasing the boldness of the foe, and thereby adding to the difficulties of my retreat should I be compelled to make one. This affair took more time than I had anticipated: the day was hot, the men had eaten no food, the hill a steep one, and the Totties tenacious of their last grasp on what had been for so many months a safe home for them in the midst of a British army. In charging up the hill, a shot came so close to my head that I confess I ducked most humbly, but was so much ashamed of this act of mine that I pretended very awkwardly to have stumbled. Scrambling hastily up, I received another shot just over the eyebrow, which whirled my helmet off, and left me bare-pated before the cheering Totties. But I, considering that more danger lay in the deadly rays of the sun than in their uncertain aim, took off my coat, and placed it round my head; and in this Red Riding-hood fashion, amidst the laughter of the men, we charged up the remainder of the hill, and drove the Totties out of the place. Here we found some provisions, and were sitting down to the meal, when artillery opening down in the valley told us that her Majesty’s army was fighting its way up to where we were quietly breakfasting. Colonel Eyre now appeared on the heights to our left; Brigadier B----r surveyed us at the same time on our right; Brigadier N----t looked on in our rear; while General Cathcart and his brilliant staff were espying us with their Dollonds in front, perhaps. I should have laughed outright had I not seen such things before during my Algerian campaigns, and at Astley’s. Hastily finishing our repast, gathering the prisoners together, with a few heads of cattle--not forgetting the anvil, hammer, bellows, tongs, &c., we had found in the above-mentioned shop--I proceeded to the headquarters of the Commander-in-chief and reported progress. I found him toasting a chop on a ramrod. Poor General Cathcart! He was a valiant soldier, but had no more intuitive knowledge of Kaffir warfare than he displayed intuition against the Russians at Inkerman. His was a bold soul in a skeleton’s frame; there was no material vitality in what he did; his efforts were spasmodic and unnatural. I laid down the trophies of my victory, taken from the shop, at the General’s feet, and Colonel Cloëte gravely wrote down from my dictation the details of our proceedings. Prisoners and cattle were handed over to the proper authorities, and my men and I went to our quarters amidst the congratulations of all around--they, no doubt, as puzzled as myself to discover what there was worthy of thanks in our conduct that day.