Here I learnt that a plan was afoot to attack the British camp at
Elandslaagte, which lay quite open and unprotected, as if it were part
of an Earl's Court exhibition. When I left by train next morning our
guns were already in action.

Not being pushed home, however, the attack did not amount to much,
except for its moral effect upon our men. It also gave the enemy the
idea of finding a decent position for his camp.

Travelling with me in the train were several men on their way to the
Free State, where our forces were being hard pressed. Before leaving I
had also sent in a request asking to be transferred thither, as Natal
was becoming really too dull.

At first sight Johannesburg did not seem much altered, but on driving
through the deserted streets, all the shops barricaded, and tramway
idle, the difference between the bustling city of old and this silent
shadow of its former self was only too evident.

Another difference that thrust itself upon the observation was the
alteration which had lately taken place in the sentiments of the
remaining Uitlander inhabitants. These, upon their lavish protestations
of friendship and fidelity, had been allowed to remain during the war.
In our triumphs their sympathy was ever with us, but when Cronjé was
captured, Ladysmith relieved, and Bloemfontein abandoned, their
long-latent loyalty to the British Empire became too fervent to be
restrained within the bounds of decency. "Remnants" of red, white and
blue were ostentatiously sewn into a distant resemblance of the British
flag; the parlour piano once more did its often unsatisfactory best with