had
little to disturb us. The device of fixing the lens on the local library
was next resorted to; a shell dropped on its doorstep, and Beaconsfield
church had a like experience. One or two guns kept firing irregularly
all day. A shell entered a kitchen and made a complete wreckage of its
culinary appliances. Long Cecil, at this stage, made some excellent
practice, upsetting presumably the kitchen at Kamfers Dam, as several
women were among those who fluttered hither and thither for shelter.
Long Cecil was a surprise to the Boers; they had heard of the gun, and
inclined to regard its existence as a myth. They had laughed at the
visionary who had tried to piece it together; and there were not a few
among ourselves who had shared their incredulity.

The proceedings of the previous two days had banished any timidity that
had existed hitherto in the ranks of the town's defenders. They were
eager for a fight. The sweetness of revenge was appreciated in some
measure, and those who might in other circumstances have shirked
personal danger, or collapsed in its presence, had their nerves steeled
for a fair and square encounter. Our defences were never tested; we were
beginning to wish they were. A determined and persevering effort on the
Boers' part might have made them masters of Kimberley. The victory,
however, would have been of the _Phyrric_ order.

Saturday came. The common trials of the great bombardment had lulled the
food warfare, and the thoughts of all were directed to the provision of
adequate protection for life and limb. The erection of forts and
shelters was going on everywhere. The work had been inaugurated when the
bombardment was at its height, and the muscular energy it brought into
play was magnificent. The "boys" (natives) were kept at it like
_Trojans_, under the personal supervision of their respective white
chiefs; and the chiefs themselves, unaccustomed though they were to an
implement less mighty than the pen, perspired beadily and willingly with
the pick and shovel. Even the ladies, regardless of blisters and the
snowy whiteness of their hands, revelled in the role of navvy. Hallowed
little garden patches were ruthlessly excavated; converted into
"dug-outs"--disagreeably suggestive of the grave--and these were covered
over and hedged in with sacks of earth. The apartments thus improvised
were excellent in their way, but somewhat damp and dismal. They were not
strictly well ventilated, but the atmospher