’We were not long before we came within rifle range, and then the bullets began to fly about our ears as we advanced towards the Boer position.  We pressed on; first one and then another kept dropping out, and shouts of “stretcher bearer” were heard very frequently.  Nothing except death would have stopped our men that morning, so determined they seemed.  On we went, and faster and thicker the bullets came, spending themselves in the sand at our feet.  At last we reached the kopje, and rested at the foot a short while, and then up we went.  Lieutenant Brine and myself reached the top in advance of the others.  As soon as we popped our heads over the top, five of the Northamptons popped their heads over the other side, facing us with their rifles, at the present, and it was hard to convince them we were friends, so excited were they.  We were not allowed to remain at peace long, for evidently some one had spied us.  Ping, ping, came the Mauser bullets; swish, swish, the Martinis.  We soon got to rather close quarters and were able to do some good shooting.  I was still close to Mr. Brine, and we had been talking some few minutes, when some one spied him and he had two or three narrow escapes.  He moved to what he thought was a safer place, and had about four shots, which all told.  He gave me the range, and was just taking aim a fifth time when a Martini bullet pierced his throat, and he fell to rise no more.  That was the first death I saw, and I felt somewhat sick.  Soon, however, we charged, and up went the white flag; but it was the most difficult piece of work I ever saw, trying to stop our men in the middle of a charge.  However, they were stopped in time, and instead of being killed, the remaining Boers were taken prisoners.  The battle over, we returned to camp, and then came the sad duty of burying our fourteen dead comrades.  There were not many dry eyes, but I venture to say there were many thankful hearts.’

=Mr. Lowry’s Adventure on the Veldt.=

The Rev. E.P.  Lowry had a very trying experience in connection with this battle.  He had marched out with the colonel of the Grenadiers, intending to return to camp as soon as the railway line was reached; but it was impossible to find his way back in the darkness, and he therefore went on with the men.  Presently the bullets were whistling all around him, and as soon as the heaviest fighting on the left was over, he busied himself among the wounded.  Feeling however, that he could do nothing more, and that he had better be in camp to receive the wounded, he determined to make the best of his way back.  But he was wrongly directed, and got lost on the veldt.  Hour after hour he wandered about, but could find no trace of the camp, into which he had marched in the dark the previous night, and out of which he had marched in the dark that same morning.  His thirst consumed him, he could walk no further, he was utterly exhausted.  How many miles he had wandered he could not tell.  The din of battle had died away, and all was one unbroken stillness.  He sat down under the scanty shade of a thorn bush, and with a feeling of intense desolation upon him made the following entry in his pocket-book:—­