moving as he rolls them from one object to another. At last from a low
kopje top by the path comes the first loud and welcome "Halt! Who goes
there?" of an English picket. Another two or three miles brings me to an
outpost of the town, and there, dead tired and Flops the same, I fling
myself on the ground, after hearty greetings and a word or two of talk
with the guard, and do a three hours' sleep till the dawn of the 17th.

In a grey light I rouse myself to look out across the wet misty flat,
hearing some one say, "Who's that? What force is that?" followed
immediately by "Call out the guard; stand to your arms, men." But then,
as light increases, we see by the regular files and intervals that the
force is British, and I know that Chester Master has got in all right
and delivered his message, and French already, at a few hours' notice,
is casting back with that terrible cavalry of his after Cronjé and the
retreating Boers.

Kimberley does not in the least give one the idea of a beleaguered and
relieved town. There are a few marks of shells, but so few and far
between as not to attract attention, and you might walk all about the
town without being struck by anything out of the common. I have sampled
the roast-horse and roast-mule which the garrison seems to have been
chiefly living on for the past five or six weeks, and find both pretty
good, quite equal, if not superior, to the old trek-ox. Some people tell
us pathetic stories of the hardships to women and young children and
babies, owing to the difficulty of getting proper food, especially milk.
On the other hand, many seem to have actually enjoyed the siege, and two
or three young ladies have assured me that they found it infinitely
diverting and enjoyed an excellent time, making up afternoon tea-parties
among their friends. The relief was not the occasion of any excitement
or rejoicing whatever. People walked about the streets and went about