fter any particularly busy
shooting. They seldom began before breakfast; knocked off regularly for
meals--the luncheon interval was 11.30 to 12 for riflemen, and 12 to
12.30 for gunners--hardly ever fired after tea-time, and never when it
rained. I believe that an enterprising enemy of the Boer strength--it
may have been anything from 10,000 to 20,000; and remember that their
mobility made one man of them equal to at least two of our reduced
11,000--could, if not have taken Ladysmith, at least have put us to
great loss and discomfort. But the Boers have the great defect of all
amateur soldiers: they love their ease, and do not mean to be killed.
Now, without toil and hazard they could not take Ladysmith.

To do them justice, they did not at first try to do wanton damage in
town. They fired almost exclusively on the batteries, the camps, the
balloon, and moving bodies of troops. In a day or two the troops were
far too snugly protected behind schanzes and reverse slopes, and grown
far too cunning to expose themselves to much loss.

The inhabitants were mostly underground, so that there was nothing
really to suffer except casual passengers, beasts, and empty buildings.
Few shells fell in town, and of the few many were half-charged with
coal-dust, and many never burst at all. The casualties in Ladysmith
during a fortnight were one white civilian, two natives, a horse, two
mules, a waggon, and about half-a-dozen houses. And of the last only one
was actually wrecked; one--of course the most desirable habitation in
Ladysmith--received no less than three shells, and remained habitable
and inhabited to the end.

And now what does it feel like to be bombarded?

At first, and especially as early as can be in the morning, it is quite
an uncomfortable sensation.

You know that gunners are looking for you through telescopes; that every
spot is commanded by one big gun and most by a dozen. You hear the
squeal of the things all above, the crash and pop all about, and wonder
when your turn will come. Perhaps one falls quite near you, swooping
irresistibly, as if the devil had kicked it. You come to watch for
shells--to listen to the deafening rattle of the big guns, the shrilling
whistle of the small, to guess at their pace and their direction. You
see now a house smashed in, a heap of chips and rubble; now you see a
splinter kicking up a fountain of clinking stone-shivers; presently you
meet a wounded man on a stretcher. This is y