Only those who have been under siege and so closely invested that all communications with the outer world, except through Kaffir runners, were cut off for 119 days, can imagine what the first sight of a relieving column means to the beleaguered garrison.  Happily such experiences have been rare in the history of British campaigns, and nobody here would care to repeat them, though all are proud enough now of having seen it through.  Those who went away while they had a chance in the first rush for safety, when shells began to burst in the town, may claim credit for foresight, but we do not envy them.  All hardships, dangers, and privations seem light now that they are things of the past.  Our enthusiasm in welcoming the first detachment of the relieving force has swept away the impression of discomforts, and, for a time at least, induced us to forget everything except the reflected honour that is ours in having suffered with British troops.

Relief had come none too soon.  Mr. Pearse, who had weathered the storm unscathed and in good health, on 1st March stated in a telegram that when Lord Dundonald’s troops arrived in the town only four days’ full rations were available, and there were 800 sick and wounded in hospital, by far the larger proportion being down with dysentery and enteric fever.  Truly it seemed that deliverance had come in the nick of time.  “Thank God,” Sir George White had said, “we have kept the flag flying.”  Thank God also that the brave defenders had been spared the worst horrors of a siege, and that help had not longer been withheld in their extremity.  Only a concluding word remains to be said.  On 6th February, when relief seemed imminent, Mr. Pearse wrote the following in his diary:—­

In this moment I want to place it on record how cordially we all recognise the fact that Sir George White has done everything that an able commander could do, not only for the defence of a town whose inhabitants are entrusted to his charge, but also for the larger issues of a campaign that might have been seriously jeopardised by any false move on his part.  In many respects, when his critics, including myself, thought he lacked the enterprise of a great leader, events have proved that his more cautious course was right.  If mistakes were made at the outset they have been nobly atoned for.

All who have so far followed Mr. Pearse through his brilliant pages will acclaim his words.  Such a commander was worthy of such troops, and they no less worthy.  During the whole dreary four months of the siege they had proved themselves men in whom any General in the world and any people might feel an exultant pride.  In long days of wearisome monotony, broken only by the scream and thud and burst of shells, at noon beneath the fierce glow of the African sun, at night in the sodden trenches, in season and out, they had been patient, vigilant, ready, bearing all things, braving all things, hoping all things