old age, and by preventing paupers terminate itself; a system that shall remove the excess of the old land to provide the deficiency of the new, and shall offer even to the most unfortunate citizen of the Empire fresh air and open opportunity.  And as I pondered on all these things, the face of the country seemed changed.  Thriving ports and townships rose up along the shore, and, upon the hillsides, inland towers, spires, and tall chimneys attested the wealth and industry of men.  Here in front of us was New Brighton; the long shelving ledge of rock was a seawall already made, rows of stately buildings covered the grassy slopes; the shipping of many nations lay in the roadstead; above the whole scene waved The Flag, and in the foreground on the sandy beach the great-grandchildren of the crossing-sweeper and the sandwich-man sported by the waves that beat by the Southern Pole, or sang aloud for joy in the beauty of their home and the pride of their race.  And then with a lurch—­for the motion was still considerable—­I came back from the land of dreams to reality and the hideous fact that Natal is invaded and assailed by the Boer.

The little steamer reached Durban safely at midnight on November 4, and we passed an impatient six hours in a sleeping town waiting for daylight and news.  Both came in their turn.  The sun rose, and we learned that Ladysmith was cut off.  Still, ‘As far as you can as quickly as you can’ must be the motto of the war correspondent, and seven o’clock found us speeding inland in the extra coach of a special train carrying the mails.  The hours I passed in Durban were not without occupation.  The hospital ship ‘Sumatra’ lay close to our moorings, and as soon as it was light I visited her to look for friends, and found, alas! several in a sorry plight.  All seemed to be as well as the tenderest care and the most lavish expenditure of money could make them.  All told much the same tale—­the pluck and spirit of the troops, the stubborn unpretentious valour of the Boer, the searching musketry.  Everyone predicted a prolonged struggle.

‘All these colonials tell you,’ said an officer severely wounded at Elandslaagte, ’that the Boers only want one good thrashing to satisfy them.  Don’t you believe it.  They mean going through with this to the end.  What about our Government?’

And the answer that all were united at home, and that Boer constancy would be met with equal perseverance and greater resources, lighted the pain-drawn features with a hopeful smile.

’Well, I never felt quite safe with those politicians.  I can’t get about for two months’ (he was shot through the thigh), ’but I hope to be in at the death.  It’s our blood against theirs.’