us, for example, an anecdote anent the utterances of a certain prominent Boer, which was in no wise calculated to allay the unrest prevalent since Magersfontein.  The Boers, he said, were willing to make peace at their own price, and that price included a full recognition of their Independence, an indemnity of twenty millions of money, and a perquisite in the shape of Natal for the Transvaal.  For the Free State it was stipulated that the border should be widened to admit Kimberley back to the fold.  These were extravagant terms; they were amusing, as amusement goes—­or might go in the ordinary trend of things.  But when coupled with other symptoms—­the misfortunes of the army, the reticence of the authorities, the uncanny demureness of the fourth estate—­they were not conducive to peace of mind.  Had there been aught that was good to tell it would have been proclaimed with glowing candour; the “new diplomacy” would have exercised its sway in riotous triumph.  The Military, it was conceded, knew everything.  Unanimity obtained on that point.  But it stopped there.  On the question of the Colonel’s reticence, its cause, effect, wisdom, or unwisdom, discord was rife.  Acute ones had hit the nail on the head, but they could not drive it home.  Every man, or set of men, had his or their own peculiar theory to expound.  The army, some said, was marching on Bloemfontein with a view to expediting our relief by forcing the Boer back to defend his own State.  Against this it was maintained that Kimberley was outside the ambit of the army’s high and mighty consideration.  Others argued that the Colonel’s policy of “mum” was mainly intended as a protest against the traffic in “Specials.”  We were all weary; the strain was weakening our mental faculties; the most sensible and philosophic cherished the queerest thoughts.  As a cynic observed, one night at souchong, it took a siege to test one’s intelligence—­and it tried the cynics as much as the non-intellectual.  All honour to those gentlemen—­lay and clerical—­who by dint of hard work and in doing good preserved their equilibrium.  We had, on Thursday, an instance of their worth in the establishment of a cook-house to supply the native population with cooked rations.  This was a praiseworthy innovation, for wood and such fuel as Mars permitted to be combustible were extremely scarce.  The native had been cured of his weakness for the dismemberment of mahogany; indirectly the cooking-depot warded off a “relapse,” and was altogether an Institution creditable to its founders.

Friday came and went unmarked by incident of note; but no; we were told—­it was something new to be told anything—­that a Cape dorp called Kuruman had thrown up the sponge.  The place had been poorly garrisoned, and the end was not unexpected—­in Official quarters.  We protested against the military habit of publishing things we did not want to know, while all knowledge of more important events was kept