ic news and fresh; and forth
from Stockdale Street was launched a three-penny "Special," to tell of
the balloon "we" had seen and of the cannon "we" had heard. That was
all. We put down our tickeys without a murmur. In the fulness of our
hearts we said the paper had to live. The revenue from its advertising
columns was a cypher, since there was so little to advertise about, and
so little need to advertise anything that _was_ about. The "ads." had
fallen off only in the sense that they were no longer paid for. They
were still printed (to fill up space); and very annoying reading they
made. Before, there was _some_ truth in them; now, there was none. How
we sighed for the times of extreme individualism.

In the afternoon a football match was played. The gate-money was handed
over to the Widows' and Orphans' Fund. Our happy speculations on what
happened at Magersfontein served a good purpose here in stimulating the
generosity of the spectators. A team of our visitors (the Lancashire
Regiment) lined up against the pick of the Citizen Soldiers. The game
was well contested, but the superior discipline of the Colonel's lot
told, and they won.

At break of day on Tuesday the Column's guns were at it again. This was
disappointing, inasmuch as it led us to infer that some Boers were yet
alive at Magersfontein. And our ardour was further damped by the De
Beers directors who instead of formally dispersing until the next day,
once more adjourned their meeting--_sine die_. What did it mean? A
Special was shortly forthcoming and was bought up eagerly, while many
eyes were being strained to catch a glimpse of Lord Methuen's legions in
the distance. The Special gave us news of a fight, indeed; but not of
_the_ fight; it was Modder River over again. In fine, we were sold
again, for the Modder River fight was--if not quite ancient history--as
remote from our thoughts as the "famous victory" at Blenheim in ages
past. Despatch riders had been coming and going, we knew all about the
River battle, and after an interval of fifteen days an ambiguous "slip"
was slipped upon a too confiding _clientele_! It was sharp practice; and
its employment at a moment when suspense had thrown us off our guard
was superb. We bristled with indignation, but the _coup_ (as such) was
splendid. We, the victims, were not entirely blameless; we had had ample
experience of the risk attached to speculation in Specials. It was ever
thus. An ancient number of the _Cape