ullet wound, head and chest,
severe.

The following tribute to the memory of Colonel Scott Chisholme is taken
from Mr. John Stuart's correspondence to the _Morning Post_:--

"No death has been more severely felt than the Colonel's. He was a good
man and a good soldier, brave to the point of recklessness, a
wonderfully-inspiriting leader, and, as I judged from about
a month's knowledge of him, single-minded, fervent in all his work,
passionately in earnest. His regiment almost worshipped him. On the day
of the fight their keenness was increased because he was keen, and they
ignored the hardships they had gone through because he shared them and
took them lightly, and did his best to improve matters.

"During the fight he only took cover once or twice, going from troop to
troop, praising and encouraging the men in words that were always well
chosen, for no man could phrase his blame or praise more aptly. At the
last ridge he stopped to tie up the leg of a wounded trooper, and was
shot himself in the leg. Two of his men went to his assistance, but he
waved them off, telling them to go on with their fighting and to leave
him alone. Then he was shot in one of the lungs, and the men went to his
help, but while they were trying to get him to cover, a bullet lodged in
his head and killed him. The last words he was heard to say were, 'My
fellows are doing well.' His fellows will always remember that.

"I may be allowed to recall one or two interesting recollections of the
Colonel. One is the speech he delivered when the Maritzburg Club dined
him and his officers. Both he and General Symons spoke. Neither man was
an orator, and yet each was more convincing than many orators, speaking
simple, soldierly, purposeful words, words whose simplicity drove them
home. Almost a week before the battle I saw the Colonel arranging his
camp. He had taken off his tunic and helmet, and did twice as much
direction as any other officer, and he worked as hard as any of the men.
It was then, when I saw his vigour in full activity, that I realised his
wonderful capacity for work--a capacity of which I had often heard, but
which I had not been able to comprehend before.

"The last time I saw him was at the outspan before the battle began. He
came to a group of us and gave one or two orders in such pleasant words
that one knew that to obey him must in itself be a real delight. Then he
sat down and gossiped with us, first about his luck in the m