January 2.—­Betty and I sat up all night.  The excitement is too intense to admit of hunger or fatigue.  We know nothing beyond the rumours of the street.  Jameson is said to be at Langlaagte, fighting his way into town, the Boers in hot pursuit.

Mademoiselle has asked leave to go to the Convent to make her will.

In the streets, private carriages, army wagons, Cape carts and ambulances graze wheels.  Every hour or two a fresh edition of the ‘Star’ is published; public excitement climbing these bulletins, like steps on a stair.  We sit a half-dozen women in the parlour at Heath’s Hotel.  Two sisters weep silently in a corner.  Their father is manager of the ‘George and May’; a battle has been fought there a couple of hours ago.  No later news has come to them.  A physician, with a huge red-cross badge around his arm, puts his head in at the door, and tells his wife that he is going out with an ambulance to bring in the wounded.  At this we are whiter than before, if it were possible.

Poor Mademoiselle returned an hour ago and was obliged to go to bed, done up with the nervous tension.

Jacky is loose on the community; in spite of energetic endeavours (accompanied by the laying-on of hands in my case) his Aunt Betty and I cannot restrain his activity.  He is intimate with the frequenters of the hotel bar, and on speaking terms with half the town.  The day seems endless.

Things have gone so far, men want the issue settled, and perhaps the irresponsible are eager for a little blood-letting; there are certain primitive instincts which are latent in us all, and the thought of war is stimulating.

Mr. Lace returned this afternoon and reported that he had ridden through the lines to Jameson.  He had had very little speech with the doctor, as the time was short, and the messenger bearing the proclamation of the High Commissioner was also present.  Jameson asked where the troops were.  Lace told him that he could not rely on any assistance from the Uitlanders, as they were unprepared, and an armistice had been declared between the Boer Government and the people of Johannesburg.

Later.—­News is brought of a battle fought at Doornkop this forenoon, and Jameson has surrendered.  Johannesburg has gone mad.

Midnight.—­My husband has just come in, his face as white and drawn as a death mask.

We talked earnestly, and then I insisted upon his going to bed, and for the first time in three days he drew off his clothes and lay down to rest.  The exhausted man now sleeps heavily; I sit beside him writing by the spluttering candle.  Now, while it is fresh in my mind, I am trying to put down all that I have just heard from my husband.

He told me the Reform Committee were greatly surprised when they received the report of Mr. Lace, as Jameson had no right to expect aid and succour from Johannesburg for the following reasons:—­