mberley very dull, and decided to
make a flying tour through Rhodesia to Beira, taking a steamer at that
port for Delagoa Bay, on our road to Johannesburg. Our first
halting-place was at Mafeking, where we arrived one bitterly cold,
blowy morning at 6 a.m. I do not think I ever realized, during all those
months of the siege, what a glaring little spot it was. When I returned
there two years later: the dust was flying in clouds, the sun was
blinding, and accentuated the absence of any shade.

Six hours spent there were more than sufficient, and it was astounding
to think of the many months that it had been our home. It has often been
said, I reflected, that it is the people you consort with, not the place
you live at, that constitute an agreeable existence; and of the former
all I could find to say was, "Where are they gone, the old familiar
faces?" Beyond the Mayor of the town, who called to reiterate warm
thanks for the Mafeking Fund, and a nigger coachman who used to take me
out for Sunday drives, I failed to perceive one face I knew in the town
during the siege; but at the convent we received the warmest welcome
from the Mother Superior and the nuns. This community appeared to be in
quite affluent circumstances: the building was restored, the chapel
rebuilt and plentifully decorated with new images; there was a full
complement of day-boarders, who were energetically practising on several
pianos, and many new Sisters had made their appearance; upstairs, the
room where was located the Maxim gun was filled by thirty snowwhite
beds. It was quite refreshing to find one circle who had recovered from
their hardships, and who, if anything, were rather more prosperous than
before the war. We paid a flying visit to the little cemetery, which was
beautifully kept, and where many fairly recent graves were in evidence,
chiefly due to enteric fever after the siege. There we particularly
noted a very fine marble cross, erected to the memory of Captain Ronald
Vernon; and as we were admiring this monument we met an old Kimberley
acquaintance in the person of Mrs. Currey, who had been our hostess at
the time of the Jameson Raid. Her husband had since died, and this lady
was travelling round that part of Africa representing the Loyal Women's
League, who did such splendid work in marking out and tending the
soldiers' graves.

At Mafeking we picked up the Rhodesian _train de luxe_, and travelled in
the greatest comfort to Bulawayo, and