calls it--through this frightful epidemic.

'In some of the general hospitals, orderlies were on duty for
thirty-six hours in forty-eight, and what their duties were--how
sordid and obscene--let those who have been through such an
epidemic tell.

'He is not a picturesque figure, the orderly, as we know him. We
have not the trim, well-nourished army man, but we have recruited
from the St. John Ambulance men, who are drawn, in this particular
instance, from the mill hands of a northern town. They were not
very strong to start with, and the poor fellows are ghastly now.
There is none of the dash and glory of war about the sallow, tired
men in the dingy khaki suits--which, for the sake of the public
health, we will hope may never see England again. And yet they are
patriots, these men; for many of them have accepted a smaller wage
in order to take on these arduous duties, and they are facing
danger for twelve hours of the twenty-four, just as real and much
more repulsive than the scout who rides up to the strange kopje, or
the gunner, who stands to his gun with a pom-pom quacking at him
from the hill.

'Let our statistics speak for themselves; and we make no claim to
be more long-suffering than our neighbours. We have three on the
staff (Mr. Gibbs, Mr. Scharlieb, and myself). Four started, but one
left us early in the proceedings. We have had six nurses, five
dressers, one wardmaster, one washerman, and eighteen orderlies, or
thirty-two in all, who actually came in contact with the sick. Out
of the six nurses, one has died and three others have had enteric.
Of the five dressers, two have had severe enteric. The wardmaster