little occasion for action presented itself we talked about war in
peace. The man in the street--omniscient being!--discussed it threadbare
on the pavement. A man who knew the Boers was the man in the street. He
knew the British army, too, though; and was sanguine of its ability to
go one better--the shrewdness of which view was loudly applauded. And he
really did much to make morbid people easy, and to lighten the burden of
weak minds. The man in the street was respected. It was deemed a
privilege to chat on the situation with this exalted personage, whom it
took a rare and great occasion to make.

On the Stoep, after dinner, the history of the 'eighty-one struggle was
reviewed and punctuated with commentaries on the character of Mr.
Gladstone. The probable date of the relief column's arrival was settled,
and the consequent discomfiture of the enemy laughed at. The talk was
all of war. The children on their way from Sunday school halted the
passer-by to enquire "who goes there"; they formed fours, stood at ease,
and shouldered sticks enthusiastically. The natives shut up in the
compounds eulogised the sword in their own jargon; they were filled with
ambition to lend an assegai in the fray, and to have a cut at the
people who treated them as children--with the sjambok!

It was remarkable the unanimity of opinion which obtained among
Kimberley men at the beginning of the campaign with reference to the
attitude of the Free State. They were in the first place convinced that
war was certain, inevitable, unavoidable; Great Britain would enforce
her demands, and the Boers would "never" give way to them. So much was
agreed. But the idea of the Free State joining hands with the
Transvaal--to stand or fall with it--was ridiculed as a monstrous
proposition. England had no quarrel with the Free Staters, and they were
not such "thundering fools" as to pick one with England, or to be