nsisted on taking his relief at digging
trenches, came and chatted to them round their fires at night, and in
scores of ways endeared himself to their hearts.

My Rifle friend has just been telling me of such an officer, a young one
they had, named Wilson (how he eulogised Mr. Wilson! "He was a good 'un,
he was. A _real_ gentleman"). He died, poor fellow, up Lydenburg way.
Then he told me of another, a Mr. Baker-Carr; of him he said, "And there
isn't a man of us to-day who, if he was in danger, wouldn't die for
him."

As for the opinion of the Colonials of our officers, you surely know
that. This little anecdote expresses pretty well how they stand one with
the other:

SCENE--PRETORIA.

New Zealander, just in from trek, passing, pipe in mouth, by a
young officer just out.

_Officer_ (stopping New Zealander): "Do you know who I am?"

_N.Z._ (removing pipe): "No."

_Officer_: "I am an officer!"

_N.Z._: "Oh."

_Officer_: "I--am--an--officer!"

_N.Z._: "Well, take an old soldier's advice and don't get drunk
and lose your commission."

_Officer_: "D---- you. Don't you salute an officer when you see
one?"

_N.Z._ (very calmly): "D---- and dot you! It's seldom we salute
our own officers, so it isn't likely we'd salute you."

_Officer_: "Confound it. If you couldn't stand discipline, what
did you come out here for?"

_N.Z._: "To fight."

_Officer_ (moving on): "I suppose you are one of those damned
Colonials."

THE R.A.M.C. SERGEANT-MAJOR, AND OTHER ANNOYANCES.

That very great, august and omnipotent being, the Sergeant-Major of this
establishment, has just been round. His motto is, I fancy, "_Veni, vidi,
vici_." To him nothing is ever perfect, save himself. He entered,
"Shun!" and we stood at attention by our cots. A trembling sergeant and
orderly followed in his train. Upon us, one by one, he pounced, this
"brave, silent (?) man" at the back. My blue fal-de-lal jacket he
unbuttoned and revealed, horror of horrors, very crime of crimes, the
fact that I was not wearing the monstrous red scarf which, according to
the laws of the R.A.M.C., which alter not, must always be worn by all
patients at all times, in life, or even in death, I presume. And
further, a most perspiring bare chest revealed the heinous fact that I
had omitted to put on the _thick_ flannel shirt which has to be worn
under the coarse white cot