the fort, on the west it was continuing unabated; and the way to the hospital lay through the most open part of the town.  Calling to our soldier servant of the Royal Horse Guards to accompany me, I snatched up a few things of value and started off.  “You will be shot, to a certainty,” said Mr. Weil.  But it was no use waiting, as one could not tell what would happen next.  The bullets were fortunately flying high; all the same, we had twice to stop under a wall and wait for a lull before proceeding.  Then I saw a native boy fall in front of me, and at the same moment I stumbled and fell heavily, the servant thinking I was hit; and all the while we could hear frightened cries continuing to emanate from the flaming stadt.

The day had fully broken, and never had the roads appeared so white and wide, the sheltering houses so few and far between.  At length we reached the hospital trench, and the last 500 yards of the journey were accomplished in perfect safety.  My dangerous experiences ended for the rest of that dreadful day, which I spent in the haven of those walls, sheltering so much suffering, and that were, alas! by evening crammed to their fullest capacity.  It was a gruesome sight seeing the wounded brought in, and the blood-stained stretchers carried away empty, when the occupants had been deposited in the operating-room.  Sometimes an ambulance waggon would arrive with four or five inmates; at others we descried a stretcher-party moving cautiously across the recreation-ground towards us with a melancholy load.  It is easy to imagine our feelings of dread and anxiety as we scanned the features of the new arrivals, never knowing who might be the next.  During the morning three wounded Boers were brought in—­the first prisoners Mafeking could claim; then a native with his arm shattered to the shoulder.  All were skilfully and carefully attended to by the army surgeon and his staff in a marvellously short space of time, and comfortably installed in bed.  But the Boers begged not to have sheets, as they had never seen such things before.  Among the English casualties, one case was a very sad one.  A young man, named Hazelrigg, of an old Leicestershire family, was badly shot in the region of the heart when taking a message to the B.S.A.P. fort, not knowing the Boers were in possession.  Smart and good-looking, he had only just been promoted to the post of orderly from being a private in the Cape Police, into which corps he had previously enlisted, having failed in his army examination.  When brought to the hospital, Hazelrigg had nearly bled to death, and was dreadfully weak, his case being evidently hopeless.  I sat with him several hours, putting eau-de-Cologne on his head and brushing away the flies.  In the evening, just before he passed into unconsciousness, he repeated more than once:  “Tell the Colonel, Lady Sarah, I did my best to give the message, but they got me first.”  He died at dawn.