us to be
walked on in the night by a heavy artillery horse; also to have all
your kit and belongings exactly where you can lay hands on them in the
dark. At reveille, which, by the way, takes the shape of a rude shake
from the picket of the night (there is no trumpet used in
campaigning), you shiver out of your nest, the Sergeant-Major's
whistle blows, and you at once feed your horses. Then you pack your
off-saddle, rolling the ground-sheet, blankets, and harness-sheet,
with the muzzles, surcingle-pads, hay-nets, etc., and strapping the
roll on the saddle. Then you harness as fast as you can (generally
helped by a gunner), make up two fresh feeds and tie them up in
nose-bags on the saddle, and put on your belt, haversack,
water-bottle, and other accoutrements. In the middle of this there
will be a cry of "D coffee up!" and you drop everything and run with
the crowd for your life to get that precious fluid, and the porridge,
if there is any. You bolt them in thirty seconds, and run back to
strap your mess-tin on your saddle, put the last touches to your
harness, and hook in the team. Of course we sleep in our cloaks, and
wear them till about eight, when the sun gets strength. Then we seize
a chance to roll them at a halt, and strap them in front of the riding
saddle.

To return to to-day. It has been very inconclusive and unsatisfactory.
We have marched about twelve miles, I think, with some long halts, in
one of which we unhooked and rode to a pool some distance off to water
horses. I have been fearfully sleepy all day. Two guns of the 38th
Battery have joined us, and we march as a six-gun battery under Major
McMicking. They have no officers fit for duty, and our Captain looks
after them. In the evening some shrapnel began bursting on a ridge
ahead, and we went up and fired a bit; but I suppose the Boers
decamped, for we soon after halted for the night. It is said that the
mythical Clements is now one march behind us, our scouts having met
to-day, and that Bethlehem is three miles ahead, strongly held by De
Wet. Other mythical generals are in the air. I am getting used to the
state of blank ignorance in which we live. Perfect sunset in a clear
sky. One of the charms of Africa is the long settled periods of pure
unclouded sky, in which the sun rises and sets with no flaming
splashes of vivid colours, but by gentle, imperceptible gradations of
pure light, waning or waxing. And as for rain, when it is once over it
is tho