find, for at one end of the wall stood the Lancer dummy, whose fame has gone through the camp.  There he stood, regarding the Dutch with a calm but defiant aspect, his head and shoulders projecting about three feet over the wall.  His legs were only a sack stuffed with straw, but round his straw body a beautiful khaki tunic had been buttoned, and his straw head was protected by a regulation helmet, for which a slouch hat was sometimes substituted, to give variety and versimilitude.  In his right hand he grasped a huge branch of a tree, either as rifle or lance.  He was withdrawn occasionally, and stuck up again in a fresh attitude.  To please me the corporal crept behind him and jogged him up and down in a life-like and scornful manner.  The hope was that the Boers would send a bullet through that heart of straw.  In the afternoon they did in fact pierce his hat, but at the time they were keeping their ammunition for something more definitely human, like myself.  As I retired, after saluting the dummy for his courage, the bullets flew again, but the sights were still too high.

[Illustration:  BULWAN]

On my return to the old Scot’s house, I found an excited little crowd in the back garden.  They were digging out an enormous shell which had plumped into the grass, taking off the Scot’s hat and knocking him down with the shock as it fell.  The thing had burst in the ground, and it was as good as a Chinese puzzle to fit the great chunks of iron together.  At first we could not find the solid base, but we dug it out with a pick from the stiff, black clay.  It had sunk 3 ft. 8 in. down from the surface, and had run 7 ft. 6 in. from the point of contact.  It was a 45-pounder, thrown by a 4.7 in. gun—­probably one of the four howitzers which the Boers possess, standing half-way down Lombard’s Kop, about four miles away, and is identical with “Silent Susan.”  But with smokeless powder it is almost impossible to say where a shot comes from.  “Long Tom” and “Puffing Billy,” with their huge volumes of smoke, are much more satisfactory.

Rain fell heavily for the rest of the day, and the bombardment ended, but it was bitter cold.

     November 18, 1899.

The bombardment was continued without much energy.  The balloon reported that the Boers were occupied in putting up more guns on Bulwan.  Rumour says there will be thirteen in all, a goodly number for a position which completely commands the town from end to end.  All day the shells had a note of extra spite in them as they came plunging among the defenceless houses.  But they did no great harm till evening.  As a rule the Boers cease fire about half-past six, and some twenty of us then settled down to dinner at the hotel—­one or two officers, some doctors, and most of the correspondents.  We had hardly begun to-night when a shell from “Silent Susan” whistled just over the roof and burst in the yard.  Within five minutes came the louder scream of another.  It crashed over us, breaking