one of the Government circle that a visit from me to Mr. Kruger would be timely.  All which I wished to say I would not be allowed to say, and just to pay an aimless visit seemed a foolish thing to do, and, being outspoken, I said so.  A friend in whom I had implicit confidence advised me to go by all means.  I was possibly being used as a political pivot.  After some delay I did go, splattering through the mud in a wheezy old cab behind a splayfooted white horse driven by a hunchbacked negro boy.  The interview lasted five minutes, and was perfectly meaningless.  I suppose it was meant to be that.  Ten fathoms down under many other things I could see that Kruger had strong heart qualities.  Educated and morally matured, he would be one of those grand characters who make epochs in the world’s history.  We shook hands at parting and went out of each other’s lives for ever.

Mr. G. told me, as he helped me into the cab at the door, that Mr. Kruger had received a cable from America in my husband’s behalf, signed by the Vice-President and a large number of the Senate and House of Representatives.  This information opened my eyes.  I now saw why a visit from me would be ‘timely.’

Within an hour news was cabled by some one to all parts of the civilised world that the wife of the American prisoner, John Hays Hammond, had received audience of the President of the Transvaal.  ’The interview was of long duration.  What transpired was of a private character, but it is believed to be very hopeful and satisfactory.’

THIRD WEEK.—­Delays, shiftings, postponements, delays with excuses, and delays without excuses.  Each day strong petitions sent in to the Executive.  A continual stream of disheartened wives and friends on their way to the Presidency, many going in the early dawn, as the President—­an early riser and of simple habit—­was known then to be easy of access.  A pitiful picture lingers in my mind of a dozen Reformers’ wives in the deep golden yellow of an African sunrise sitting on the edge of the broad side-walk with their feet in the dust waiting for the President to return from burying a Landdrost’s wife.  I cannot remember that Mr. Kruger made any specific promises.  ’All shall come right,’ he said frequently.  ’Wait; don’t hurry me.  I must go slow, or my Burghers will get out of hand.’  We waited, and the men inside of the prison walls one after another sickened and lost heart.

On May 12, Dr. Messum sent the following report in to the Landdrost:—­

Dear Sir,—­I have, on the 29th and 30th April, written to the Inspector of Jails about the state of the jail.  I do not know if I am to report to you or to the Inspector of Jails; in any case, I have the honour again to report that as yet no alteration has been made in the sheds in which the political prisoners are kept.  I must repeat again that they are too small and unhealthy for the number of prisoners placed in them.  I find now, on account