February 7.—­Sir Redvers Buller evidently finds that the new key of the road to Ladysmith fits no better than the old, and we begin to doubt whether he will be able to force the lock yet.  Skiet’s Drift is a difficult way, leading through a bushy country scarred with dongas and commanded by successive ridges, of which the Boers, with their great mobility and rapidity of concentration, know how to make the most.  They still hold Monger’s Hill, and their big gun has opened again from the notched ridge by Doom Kloof.  Buller’s guns are hammering at these positions, but apparently with little effect, for to every salvo from them the big Creusot makes reply.  Nor is there any sign now of a Boer movement towards the rear.  On the contrary, they have a new camp, possibly of hospital tents, where Long Valley merges into Doom Kloof, and almost within range of our naval guns if we had them mounted on Waggon Hill.

While the fight rages near Tugela heights we are left in comparative peace here.  “Puffing Billy” has not opened to-day, and his twin brother of Telegraph Hill has been silent many days.  Probably he was taken away to reinforce the artillery now opposing General Buller’s advance.  If relief does not come soon we shall have something worse than privation to dread, for scurvy has broken out at Intombi camp, where medical comforts are scarce, having been frittered away by the negligence or dishonesty of hospital attendants, over whom nobody seems to exercise proper control.  The mismanagement of affairs there and the whole system of hospital administration at Ladysmith will have to be investigated after the siege.  At noon to-day we had hopes that the Boer right flank was being hard pressed.  That is the only practicable way in, but the effort has apparently not been pushed far.  The heliograph has begun to blink out a long message, and that is always a bad sign.

February 8.—­Small things assume an importance altogether out of proportion just now, and one worries about a last pipe of tobacco when issues of vital moment to us are being fought out ten miles off.  I have come to the end of mine, and there is no more to be got for love or money.  A ton of Kaffir leaf has just been requisitioned from coolies, who were selling it at twelve shillings the pound to soldiers, and who have now to accept a twelfth of that price.  There are thus thirty-six thousand ounces for distribution, but even that quantity will not last long.  Nobody would have the heart to take any of it from soldiers who have been reduced for weeks past to smoking dried sun-flower leaves and even tea-leaves.  Six shots were fired from Bulwaan battery this afternoon after a silence of nearly two days.  We generally accept such sudden outbursts as indicating that something has gone wrong with our enemies elsewhere, but we can see no signs of hurried movement among them, and though General Buller’s guns have been active half the day they sound no nearer.