Boer wrath was the searchlight.  Night attacks were supposed to be the enemy’s forte, and it was only the difficulty of extinguishing the candle that delayed our extinction.  And so perhaps it was; we never knew for certain, for the difficulty of applying the snuffers remained insuperable to the end.  Numberless missiles were shot at the searchlight, but its radiance was never dimmed for a moment.

The most important of the thousand and one rumours circulated on Tuesday was that a place called Jacobsdal had been taken by Methuen.  We were not pleased to hear it.  Being anxious to give Kimberley away to his lordship for nothing, we were at a loss to know why he should go out of his way to lay hold of a town when a city offered.  There were, however, extenuating circumstances, in that a vast quantity of provisions had been seized at Jacobsdal.  Provisions were now in our eyes of greater value than diamonds even!  On Wednesday the Advertiser corroborated the rumour (re Jacobsdal); it gave details of the whole brilliant achievement, and sundry absorbing items anent the digestiveness of the confiscated supplies.  All this was highly interesting; but unfortunately it was all untrue; it was discovered to be fiction.  It was not the first lie (not quite), but none other had been so quickly, so frankly exposed.  Our newspaper had been misinformed, and candidly told us so.

The De Beers directors, looking a little emaciated from anxiety rather than want of nourishment, assembled in Stockdale Street to hold their adjourned meeting.  But the Column had not yet come in, the Chairman announced.  The public, who were growing sarcastic, opined that the Kafirs imprisoned in the compounds knew it!  Mr. Rhodes suitably explained how sorry he was to disappoint again; the fault was not his; he was not (he confided) in the confidence of Lord Methuen.  A further postponement was unavoidable, and the meeting dispersed for a week.  The period was significantly long.

The happiest section of the community was the composite collection of human units that constituted the Town Guard, and lived in the camps.  There were to be found representatives of all nationalities—­English, Dutch, Irish, Scotch, German, Norwegian, French, etc.  With the local (Kimberley) variety there intermingled all sorts and conditions of refugees.  Men of wealth, of high social standing and education were there, sleeping in the same “bed,” playing cards and competing in “anecdotage” with the sons of toil.  From the very beginning of the siege the Town Guard had had to “rough it” in rations.  It was black tea or blacker coffee for breakfast; sorry soup and meat (the osseous joints that made the soup) for dinner; the breakfast again for tea—­that made up from day to day the dreary menu.  The Mayor, indeed, had for a little while managed to administer currant buns (it was not easy always to find the currant) for supper; but even prior to the official proclamation of their