s nothing really the matter with him; and as
soon as the Sister's back is turned, he turns catherine wheels up the
ward on his hands. His great topic is the glory and valour of the
Highland Brigade, discoursing on which he becomes in his enthusiasm
unintelligibly Scotch. It is the great amusement of the rest of us to
get rises out of him on the subject, and furious arguments rage on the
merits of various regiments. He is as simple as a child, and really
seems to believe that the Highland Brigade has won the war
single-handed. He is no hand at argument, and gets crushing
controversial defeats from the others, especially some Berks men, but
he always takes refuge at last "in the thun rred line," as his last
entrenchment. "Had ye ever a thun rred line?" he asks, and they quail.
The matter came to a crisis yesterday, when one of them produced a
handbook on British regiments and their histories. The number of
"honours" owned by each regiment had been a hotly contested point, and
they now sat down and counted them. The Royal Berks had so
many--Minden, Waterloo, Salamanca, Vittoria, Sevastopol, etc. In
breathless silence those accredited to the Argyll and Sutherland
Highlanders were counted. There were fewer, and Jock was stunned at
first. "Ah, but ye ha' not counted the thun rred line," he shouted.
"Ga'rn, what battle's that?" they scoffed. "The battle of the thun
rred line," he persisted. Balaclava was on his list, but he didn't
even know it was there that his gallant regiment formed the thin red
line. Yet he had his revenge, for, by a laborious calculation, lasting
several hours, it was found that the united honours of the Scotch
regiments were greater than the united English or Irish.

_September 6._--_Thursday._--I am allowed to go to a chair outside the
tent, a long, luxurious canvas lounge. In the valley below and to the
right lies Pretoria, half buried in trees, and looking very pretty.
Behind it rises a range of hills, with a couple of forts on the
sky-line. Across the valley lies quite a town of tents, mostly
hospitals. We all of us live in pyjamas; some wear also a long coat of
bright blue. Sisters flit about, dressed in light blue, with white
aprons and veils, and brilliant scarlet capes, so that there is no
lack of vivid colour. A road runs in front of the tent; an occasional
orderly gallops past, or a carriage passes with officers.

_September 7._--To my delight this afternoon, I heard a voice at my
tent door,