On Friday, May 18, the whole garrison turned out to attend a thanksgiving service in an open space close to the cemetery.  They were drawn up in a three-sided square, which looked pathetically small.  After the service Colonel Baden-Powell walked round and said a few words to each corps; then three volleys were fired over the graves of fallen comrades, and the “Last Post” was played by the buglers, followed by the National Anthem, in which all joined.  It was a simple ceremony, but a very touching one.  The same afternoon Colonel Plumer’s force was inspected by the Colonel, prior to their departure for the North to repair the railway-line from Bulawayo.  They were striking-looking men in their campaigning kit, having been in the field since last August.  Some wore shabby khaki jackets and trousers, others flannel shirts and long boots or putties.  However attired, they were eager once more for the fray, and, moreover, looked fit for any emergency.

The next few days were a period of intense excitement, and we were constantly stumbling against friends who had formed part of the relief column, but of whose presence we were totally unaware.  Letters began to arrive in bulky batches, and one morning I received no less than 100, some of which bore the date of September of the year before.  My time was divided between eagerly devouring these missives from home, sending and answering cables (a telegraph-line to the nearest telephone-office had been installed), and helping to organize a new hospital in the school-house, to accommodate the sick and wounded belonging to Colonel Mahon’s force.  All the while my thoughts were occupied by my return to England and by the question of the surest route to Cape Town.  The railway to the South could not be relaid for weeks, and, as an alternative, my eyes turned longingly towards the Transvaal and Pretoria.  It must be remembered that we shared the general opinion that, once Lord Roberts had reached the latter town, the war would be practically over.  How wrong we all were after-events were to prove, but at the end of May, 1900, it appeared to many that to drive the 200 miles to Pretoria would be very little longer, and much more interesting, than to trek to Kimberley, with Cape Town as the destination.  Mrs. Godley (to whom I have before alluded) had arrived at Mafeking from Bulawayo, and we agreed to make the attempt, especially as the Boers in the intervening country were reported to be giving up their arms and returning to their farms.  In the meantime it had been decided that Colonel Plumer should occupy Zeerust in the Transvaal, twenty-eight miles from the border, while Colonel Baden-Powell and his force pushed on to Rustenburg.  On May 28 Colonel Mahon and the relief column all departed to rejoin General Hunter in or near Lichtenburg, and Mafeking was left with a small garrison to look after the sick and wounded.  This town, so long a theatre of excitement to itself and of interest to the world at large, then resumed by degrees the sleepy, even tenor of its ways, which had been so rudely disturbed eight months before.