picturesque array of pipes and pouches in the window the missile, as if
it had an eye for art, refrained from bursting; instead it made a little
grave to the depth of several feet and buried itself with honour. Three
or four buildings were struck, and a funny man spread an alarming rumour
relative to the loss of _eighteen_ lives in the Queen's Hotel! On
enquiry it transpired that _two_ cats had met their doom. The victims
had been serenading in an out-house when the fatal missile (very
properly) slit their throats. The dear people of the neighbourhood
affected little sympathy for the slain whose orgies had kept them awake
at night. Indeed a wish was expressed that a few more of the cult might
get hissed off the world's stage. And curiously enough a second shell
_did_ fall at the hotel; but the feline minstrels were out of the
way--and their well-wishers so much _in_ it that they made peace with
the cats at once.

The night had been dark, with vivid flashes of lightning to brighten it
now and then, and nature's artillery had rolled until the Boers on
Wednesday morning took Up the refrain with theirs. One poor old man was
wounded in the arm as he lay sleeping in his bed. Houses here and there
up Newton way were damaged, the occupiers escaping injury. The firing
went on for several hours until heavy rains came down and put a stop to
it.

A further note was received from Mr. Wessels. The Dutch folk in our
midst were fairly numerous and not only as liable to laceration as the
British, but, judging by our records so far, rather more so. They had
experienced rank bad luck altogether, and a little bird may have
whispered it to Wessels. However that may be, the Commandant reiterated
his former request in their regard. Now, Colonel Kekewich was only too
willing to accede to the request, in proof of which he wrote up a