Marvellous to relate, in the early afternoon we found our train in the station, and, climbing into our carriage once more, we proceeded on our road without delay, congratulating ourselves on our good fortune in not being held up at Kroonstadt, as had been the fate of many travellers going south.  Immediately south of Kroonstadt we crossed the Vaal River, with its fine high-level bridge reduced to atoms by dynamite.  This had given the engineers another opportunity to display their skill by a clever deviation of a couple of miles in length, winding down almost to the water-level, and then serenely effecting the crossing by a little wooden bridge, from which its ruined predecessor was visible about a quarter of a mile up the stream.  Darkness and approaching night then hid the landscape.  That evening we were told we need have no fears, for we were practically out of the dangerous zone.  We dined comfortably in our compartment, and I heard many more reminiscences of the advance from two travelling companions who had taken part in it.  Suddenly in the next compartment a party of Canadian officers commenced singing part-songs with real musical talent.  We relapsed into silence as we heard the “Swanee River” sung more effectively than I have ever heard it before or since, and it reminded me that we, too, were going home.  Presently we found ourselves joining in the chorus of that most touching melody, “Going back to Dixie,” greatly to the delight of our sociable and talented neighbours.  Daylight next morning brought us to Bloemfontein and civilization, and what impressed me most was the fact of daily newspapers being sold at a bookstall, which sight I had not seen for many months.  On arriving at Cape Town, I was most hospitably entertained at Groot Schuurr by Colonel Frank Rhodes, in the absence of his brother.  This mansion had been a convalescent home for many officers ever since the war began.  There I passed a busy ten days in seeing heaps of friends, and I had several interviews with Sir Alfred Milner, to whom events of the siege and relief of Mafeking were of specially deep interest.  I gave him as a memento a small Mauser bullet mounted as a scarf-pin, and before leaving for England I received from him the following letter: 

     “GOVERNMENT HOUSE,
     “CAPE TOWN,
     “November 7, 1900.

     “DEAR LADY SARAH,

“How very kind of you to think of giving me that interesting relic of Mafeking!  It will indeed revive memories of anxiety, as well as of the intensest feeling of relief and thankfulness that I have ever experienced.

“Hoping we shall meet again when ‘distress and strain are over,’

     “I am,
     “Yours very sincerely,
     “ALFRED MILNER.”