ing? Or must we teach every
general in turn who comes to take charge of us what the army has learnt
long ago, that a frontal attack against Mausers is leading up to your
enemy's strong suit. For Methuen there were reasons. Methuen could not
outflank, could not go round, was not strong enough to leave his lines
of communication, and had practically no cavalry. He had to go straight
on. Belmont, Graspan, and Modder were turnpike gates. The toll was
heavy, but there was no choice but to pay. But what was the reason of
this latest? We had them here safely bottled up. We have them still. It
is only a question of days. The attack could have gained nothing by
success; has lost little by its failure. The casualties were 1500. I
know all about eggs and omelettes, but these were simply thrown in the
gutter.

Never tell me these Boers aren't brave. What manner of life, think you,
is in yonder ditch? Our artillery rains down its cross fire of shells
perpetually. The great ox-waggons are almost totally destroyed or burnt.
The ammunition in the carts keeps blowing up as the fire reaches it. The
beasts, horses and oxen, are strewn about, dead and putrid, and
deserters say that the stench from their rotting carcasses is
unbearable. Night and day they have to be prepared for infantry attacks,
and yet, to the amazement of all of us, they still hold out.

Old Cronje's apparent object is to try and save Bloemfontein by delaying
us till reinforcements come up from the south and east. This is really
what we want, because the more of the enemy we get in front of this
great army of ours, the harder we shall be able to hit them. But
evidently Cronje is ignorant of our strength.

Meantime we can make out in our break-of-day scoutings up the river that
bodies of men are approaching from the east. They have made a laager
about ten miles up, and evidently mean to dispute our passage to the
capital. The longer old Cronje holds out, the more men from Colesberg
and Natal will come up, the more entrenchments will be cut, and the
harder will be our way to Bloemfontein. 'Tis the only way he sees to
save the town, for we should march straight in else. Perhaps, too, he
cherishes some hope of being relieved himself; of a determined attack
from without, which might enable him, by a sudden sally, to break
through; though, for dismounted men (and their horses are all dead by
this time), the chances of ultimate escape in a country like this must
be very smal