circular sangars of
stones and sandbags at intervals all along the ridge. The work was going
listlessly, the men carrying up the smallest and easiest stones they
could find, and spending most of the time in contemplating the scenery
or discussing the situation, which they did not think hopeful. "We're
surrounded--that's what we are," they kept saying. "Thought we was goin'
to have Christmas puddin' in Pretoria. Not much Christmas puddin' we'll
ever smell again!" A small mounted party rode past them, and the enemy
instantly threw a shell over our heads from the front. Then the guns
just set up on the long mountain of Bulwan, threw another plump into the
rocks by the largest picket. "It's like that Bally Klarver," sighed a
private, getting up and looking round with apprehension. "Cannon to
right of 'em, cannon to left of 'em!" Then we went on building at the
sangar, but without much spirit. They laughed when I told them how a
shell from "Long Tom" fell into the Crown Hotel garden this morning, and
all the black servants rushed out to pocket the fragments. But the only
thing which really cheered them was the thought that they had only to
"stick it out" till Buller's force went up to the Free State and drew
the enemy off--that and a supply of cigarettes.

Early in the afternoon I took my telegram to the Censor as usual, and
after the customary wanderings and waste of time I found him--only to
hear that the wires were bunched and the line destroyed. So telegrams
are ended; mails neither come nor go. The guns fired lazily till
evening, doing little harm on either side. A queer Boer ambulance, with
little glass windows--something between a gipsy van and a penny
peep-show--came in under a huge white flag, bringing some of our wounded
to exchange for wounded Boers. The amenities of civilised slaughter are
carefully observed. But one of the ambulance drivers was Mattey, "Long
Tom's" skilled gunner, in disguise.

_November 3, 1900._

The bombardment continued, guns on Bulwan throwing shells into various
camps, especially the Natal Volunteers. Many people chose the river bed
as the most comfortable place to spend a happy day. They hoped the high
banks or perhaps the water would protect them. So there they sat on the
stones and waited for night. I don't know how many shells pitched into
the town to-day--say 150, not more. Little harm was done, but people of
importance had one grand shock. Just as lunch was in full swing at