these high table-lands. I woke up about six, looked out, and saw, just
opposite, the legend DE AAR, which for the first time seemed to
connect us with the war. We stopped a moment, and then moved on
through lines of tents, loaded waggons, mountains of ammunition, etc.
Then I saw a strange sight, in the shape of ice on puddles and white
hoarfrost. Soon out on the broad, brown veldt, far-distant hills
showing finely cut in the exquisitely clear air. Such an atmosphere I
have never seen for purity. The sun was rising into a cloudless sky
from behind a kopje. The flat-topped kopje is now the regular feature.
They are just like miniature Table-mountains, and it is easy to see
how hard to capture they must be. Water, feed, and breakfast at a tiny
roadside place, with the inevitable couple of tents and khaki men. We
were at whist when we steamed up to a big, busy camp-station, the Red
Cross flying over a dozen big marquee tents, and a couple of hundred
sorry-looking remounts (by the look of them) picketed near. This was
Naauwport. We stopped alongside a Red Cross train full of white,
unshaven faces--enterics and wounded going back to the base. They were
cheerful enough, and we shouted inquiries about one another. They were
unanimous in saying we were too late, which was very depressing news,
but I don't suppose they knew much about it. We washed ourselves in
big buckets here. As we were steaming out I saw a long unfamiliar
sight, in the shape of a wholesome, sunburnt English girl, dressed in
short-skirted blue serge, stepping out as only an English girl can.
She was steering for the Red Cross over the tents, and, I daresay, was
nursing there. Off again, over the same country, but looking more
inhabited; passed several ostrich farms, with groups of the big,
graceful birds walking delicately about; also some herds of cattle,
and a distant farm or two, white against the blue hill-shadows. Soon
came the first visible signs of war--graves, and long lines of
trenches here and there. At a stop at a shanty (can't call it a