babes were buried in one day.  The authorities had adopted measures to conserve milk for the young and the invalided, but with only partial success.  When matters were at their worst a further effort was made to induce the privileged few who could still call their cows their own to send milk to a central depot for distribution among the children of the poor and middle classes.  And the appeal was not a vain one; the response was generous; it lessened the mortality.  To-day, the men of the Diamond Fields can look back and laugh at their harsh judgments, their not too sweet reasonableness towards the “Law” of the land.  They acquitted themselves well on the whole; for an imperturbable spirit covers a multitude of foibles.  The citizens held Kimberley in spite of everything, and never swerved from the fulfilment of what they felt to be a sacred duty.

Sunday brought a dreary repetition of a siege Sunday’s monotony.  The situation had been discussed threadbare, and there was little else to converse about.  The dust outdoors was blinding, and the people for the most part dozed over books.  That was the cardinal mercy vouchsafed us; we had books to read, and never were they so ravenously devoured.  Reading was much in vogue; it was a siege innovation—­a very good one, too.  Persons who had never hitherto believed in the pleasure to be derived from books were disillusioned, and driven, as it were, to cultivate a taste for literature—­as men in gaol often are.  It may therefore be set down as portion of the good resulting from evil, this teaching of people to value mental nourishment.  The importance of the physical variety was only too well understood.

On Monday many shells fell into the west end of the town.  Our West End was not like London’s; there were few houses in it, and they were unoccupied.  Mafeking, it was said, had driven back the besiegers, and, it was added, had “possibly” been relieved from the north ("possibly” was thought distinctly good).  It may have been so; but we did not believe it.  There had all along been a great deal of chopping and changing anent the position of the Mafeking garrison.  We were at one time told that Mafeking “fell” before our Siege began.  We could, and always did, take a more dispassionate view of Baden-Powell’s plight than we could or would take of our own.

Tuesday morning brought the ‘signal sound of strife’; no day brought any more.  The belching of the guns sounded nearer than on the Monday, but that was small consolation, for it had sounded near and afar off alternately for many days.  There is a modernised game of blind man’s buff in which the blind one is set to find a hidden ping-pong ball, and is aided in the search by a fugue played on the piano.  The nearer she (or he) approaches the object of her (or his) search the louder grows the music (the fugue) and vice versa.  It seemed to us that Methuen not only knew the game but was passionately fond of it.  It was our privilege