me mixture of grit and sticky dough as the peasants in Pindus starve
upon. Even this--enough in itself to inflame any English stomach--is
reduced to 1/2 lb. a day. As I stood at the gate this afternoon taking
my first breath of air, I watched the weak-kneed, lantern-jawed soldiers
going round from house to house begging in vain for anything to eat. Yet
they say the health of the camp as a whole has improved. This they
attribute to chevril.

During my illness, though I cannot fix the exact day, one of the saddest
incidents of the siege has happened. My friend Major Doveton, of the
Imperial Light Horse, a middle-aged professional man from Johannesburg,
who had joined simply from patriotism, was badly wounded in the arm in
the great attack of the 6th. Mrs. Doveton applied to Joubert for leave
to cross the Boer lines to see her husband, and bring medical
appliances and food. The leave was granted, and she came. But amputation
was decided upon, and the poor fellow died from the shock. He was a fine
soldier, as modest as brave. Often have I seen him out on the hillside
with his men, quietly sharing in all their hardships and privations. I
don't know why the incident of his wife's passage through the enemy's
lines should make his death seem sadder. But it does. On Saturday night
I drove away from the hospital in my cart, though still in great pain
and hardly able to stand. I was unable to endure the depression of all
the hospital sights and sounds and smells any longer. Perhaps the worst
of all is the want of silence and darkness at night. The fever and pain
both began to abate directly I got home to my old Scot.

[Illustration: GENERAL RT. HON. SIR REDVERS HENRY BULLER, V.C., G.C.B.,
K.C.M.G., K.C.B.]

CHAPTER XXI

RELIEVED AT LAST

_Tuesday, February 27, 1900._

This is Majuba Day, and in the afternoon the garrison was cheered by the
news that Roberts had surrounded Cronje and compelled him to surrender.
For ourselves, relief seems as far off as ever, though it is said shells
were seen bursting not far beyond Intombi Camp. The bread rations are
cut down again to half, after a few days' rise; though, indeed, they can
hardly be called bread rations, for the maize bread was so uneatable
that none is made now. The ration is biscuits and three ounces of mealie
meal for porridge.

Towards evening I went for my first drive through old familiar scenes
that have come to look quite different now. The long drought