The public were enjoined to hold no communication with the enemy, and to give them no direct nor indirect assistance.  Finally, the proclamation informed us, a Court of Summary Jurisdiction had been established, armed with power and authority to hang traitors until they were dead; to confiscate their property; to lash them (when they escaped death); and even to deal severely with Imperial persons who failed to comply with the various regulations set forth in the plain English of one who had the advantage of being only a Martial lawyer.

It was not until eleven o’clock—­during the hours of Divine Service—­that the hundred thousand ears adorning the anatomy of the human population were first shocked by the horrisonous banshee wail of the hooters.  The music was awe-inspiring, and ineffably weird.  It seemed to portend the cries of the dying; and it was small wonder that the people subsequently endeavoured—­as they did successfully—­to have a more tuneful instrument employed.  The immediate effect of the alarm was to send members of the Town Guard running from their respective homes and churches to the Town Hall, and thence, in orderly squads of four, with grim and stern faces, to the redoubts.  Non-combatants, in compliance with the proclamation, went reluctantly to their houses.  Tram-loads of scared women and nonchalant babies were hurried in from Beaconsfield.  The streets were soon deserted.  There was no panic; but many a poor woman felt that the life of a husband, a father, a lover, or a brother was in jeopardy, and many a fervent prayer went up to heaven.

The battle, however, did not begin.  Large commandoes of Boers had been seen hovering about, and by boastful display had given us the impression that they purposed attacking the city.  It was merely display; the wily Boer did not yet mean business.  He eventually betook himself to coffee as a more profitable way of spending the afternoon.  Late in the evening the Town Guard entertained some similar ideas with respect to tea, and were permitted to go home and drink it there.

Next morning, the armoured train was out early; but the Boers discreetly connived at its effrontery—­having, doubtless, still in their minds unpleasant recollections of its volley-firing.  At Modder river, twenty miles away, the enemy, it was said, were making prisoners of inoffensive persons, and blowing up the bridge.  Bridges seem to have been their pet aversions everywhere.  At Slipklip one was blown sky-high; and artistic skill was displayed in the picturesque wreck that was made of Windsorton Road Station.

The town, preparing for anything that might happen, presented a scene of bustle and confusion.  What with strengthening and extending the defence works, levelling native locations (which might possibly prove advantageous to the Boers as a cover), and finding new homes for the evicted, Kimberley looked a stirring place—­though train and telegraph services were suspended.