A locust-storm passed over the hospital to-day—­a cloud of fluttering insects, with dull red bodies and khaki wings.

September 15.—­Saturday.—­My foot is well, at any rate for moderate use, and I am to go out on Monday.  What I should like, would be to rejoin at once, but unfortunately one has first to go through the intermediate stages of the Convalescent camp, and the Rest camp, where “details” collect, to be forwarded to their regiments.  I don’t look forward to being a detail at all.  Henry’s foot is much better, and he is to go out on Monday too.  He is still rather lame, though.  It has been most delightful having him here.

The evenings are deliciously cool, and you can sit outside in pyjamas till 8.30, when you are turned in.  We sat out for long last night, talking over plans.  A staff officer has twice been in here, and seemed much amused by us two brothers having fore-gathered.  I asked him about Paget’s brigade, and he seemed to think they were still at or near Waterval.

September 16.—­Sunday.—­We went to church in the evening; a tent pleasantly filled up, a Sister at the harmonium, hymns, a few prayers, the Psalms, and a short sermon; a strange parti-coloured congregation we were, in pyjamas, slippers and blue coats, some on crutches; Sisters in their bright uniforms.  Chairs were scarce, and Henry and I sat on the floor.  It was dark before the end, and in the dim light of two candles at the harmonium we looked a motley throng.

Both bound for the Convalescent camp tomorrow.

September 17.—­Monday.—­What we actually did to-day, seeing the commandant, regaining our kit, drawing new kit, might have been done in half an hour; but we took from nine till three doing it, most of which time we were standing waiting.  However, about three we found ourselves in a covered cart with five others and our kits, bound for the Convalescent camp.  We had said good-bye to the Sisters and our mates.  Old Daddy, I am glad to say, had “worked it,” as they say, and was radiant, having been marked up for home.  No more of “that there veldt” for him.  Jock had already been sent out and given a post as hospital orderly, and was now spreading the fame of the Highland Brigade in new fields.  We both felt, on the whole, that we had been looked after very well in a very good hospital.

The mules jolted us across the valley, and landed us at a big block of tents, and we took places in one; mother earth again.  Tea, the milkless variety again, at 4.30, and then we went to Henry’s old tent in the General Hospital, which adjoins this camp, and talked to a friend of his there, a man in the Rifle Brigade, with a bad splintered knee.  He was shot about the same time as Henry in a fine charge made by his battalion, which I remember reading about.