and dripped drearily on the floor for hours; outside, the stream between the hospital and laager became a roaring torrent.  No one came near us that afternoon, and I really think communication was not possible.  Later it cleared and the flood abated; a lively bombardment was then commenced, on the assumption, probably, that the Mafeking trenches were filled with water and uninhabitable.  It was trying to the nerves to sit and listen to the six or seven guns all belching forth their missiles of death on the gallant little town, which was so plainly seen from my windows, and which seemed to lie so unprotected on the veldt.  Just as I had barricaded my door and gone to rest on my sofa about nine o’clock, the big siege gun suddenly boomed out its tremendous discharge, causing the whole house to shake and everything in the room to jingle.  It seemed a cruel proceeding, to fire on a partially sleeping town, but I did not know then how accustomed the inhabitants were to this evening gun, and how they took their precautions accordingly.

I must say I disliked the nights at the hospital exceedingly.  It was insufferably hot and stuffy in the little room, and the window, only about 2 feet above the ground, had to be left open.  The sentries, about six in number—­doubled, as I understood, on my account—­lay and lounged on the stoep outside.  Instead of feeling them anything of a protection, I should have been much happier without them.  It must be recollected that these burghers were very undisciplined and independent of authority, only a semblance of which appeared to be exercised over them.  They included some of a very low type, and it appeared to be left to themselves to choose which post they would patronize.  It was remarked to me they preferred the hospital, as it was sheltered, and that the same men had latterly come there every night.  Their behaviour during their watch was very unconventional.  They came on duty about 6 p.m., and made themselves thoroughly comfortable on the stoep with mackintoshes and blankets.  Their rifles were propped up in one corner, and the bandoliers thrown on the ground.  There were a couple of hammocks for the patients’ use, and in these two of them passed the night.  Before retiring to rest, they produced their pipes and foul-smelling Boer tobacco, proceeding to light up just under my windows, meanwhile talking their unmusical language with great volubility.  At length, about ten, they appeared to slumber, and a chorus of snoring arose, which generally sent me to sleep, to be awakened two or three hours later by renewed conversations, which now and then died away into hoarse whispers.  I always imagined they were discussing myself, and devising some scheme to step over the low sill into my room on the chance of finding any loot.  I complained one day to the nurses of the fact that their extreme loquacity really prevented my sleeping, and, as she told me that the patients suffered in the same way, I advised her to speak to the sentinels and ask them to be more quiet.  She told me afterwards she had done so, and that they said they had been insulted, and would probably not come again.  We both laughed, and agreed it would not matter much if this calamity occurred.