Hospital everything is as near perfection, from a medical and surgical
point, as any sane man can hope to see. It is an extensive institution. One
end is set apart for the Boer wounded, the other for the British. No
difference is made between the two in regard to accommodation--food,
medical attendance, nursing, or visiting. Ministers of religion come and go
daily--almost hourly--at both ends. Our men, when able to walk, are allowed
to roam around the grounds, but, of course, are not allowed to go beyond
the gates, being prisoners of war. Concerning our matron (Miss M.M. Young)
and nurses, all I can say is that they are gentlewomen of the highest type,
of whom any nation in the world might well be proud.

I have met one or two old friends since I came here, notably Lieutenant
Bowling, of the Australian Horse, who is now able to get about, and is
cheerful and jolly. Lieutenant Bowling has his right thumb shot off, and
had a terribly close call for his life, a Mauser bullet going into his head
alongside his right eye, and coming out just in front of the right ear. His
friends need not be anxious concerning him; he is quite out of danger, and
he and I have killed a few tedious hours blowing tobacco smoke skywards,
and chatting about life in far off Australia. Another familiar face was
that of an English private, named Charles Laxen, of the Northumberlands,
who was wounded at Stormberg. I am told that he displayed excellent pluck
before he was laid out, firstly by a piece of shell on the side of the
head, and, later, by a Mauser bullet through the left knee. He is getting
along O.K., but will never see service as a soldier again on account of the
wounded leg.

I had written to the President of the Orange Free State, asking him to
grant me my liberty on the ground that I was a non-combatant. Yesterday Mr.
Steyn courteously sent his private secretary and carriage to the hospital
with an intimation that I should be granted an interview. I was accordingly