November 26.—­The Boers are busy preparing an emplacement for heavy artillery on Middle Hill, south of and flanking Bester’s Ridge.  Apparently they suspect us of doing similar work on the plain in front of Devonshire Hill, and their strict regard for the Sabbath does not run to toleration of Sunday labour on our part, so they send three shells in among some Kaffirs who are digging trenches with the harmless object of burying dead horses there.

November 27.—­The Boers, grown bold with the success of their first raid, try another—­this time with the object of cutting out horses that graze loose on the plain towards Bulwaan.  But they have to do now with Natal Carbineers, many of whom, like themselves, are veldt farmers, familiar with every trick of rounding up horses or oxen.  In vain do the gunners of “Puffing Billy” throw percussion shells to drive the herd towards their lines.  In vain are shrapnels timed to burst in a shower where Carbineers sweep round like Indian scouts to herd the startled horses back.  The Volunteers do their work neatly, coolly, quickly, to the chagrin of Boers who wait in kloofs beyond Klip River for a chance of carrying off some valuable horses.  In their disappointment the Bulwaan battery tries to get some consolation by shelling the camp of the Carbineers.  The new gun which Boers were mounting yesterday on Middle Hill opened to-day, shelling first the Rifle Brigade piquets on King’s Post and then the sangar of the Manchesters in Caesar’s Camp.  It enfilades both positions with equal ease.

The Rifles had a narrow escape as they were at work on a wall, the top of which was struck by a shell, and splinters flew all round without hitting anybody.  The Manchesters were not so fortunate, having three men wounded, but none seriously.  While I write, smoking concerts are being held in the camps of Imperial Light Horse and Natal Volunteers, from whose strong lungs the notes of “God Save the Queen” roll in a volume that can be heard a mile off.  Perhaps some faint echoes of it may stir the air about sleeping Boers on Bulwaan.

November 28.—­A misty morning with rain, which does not prevent the enemy from sending a few shots into town.  Middle Hill, Rifleman’s Ridge, Telegraph Hill, with its three 9-pounders, which the Rifle Brigade men, for quaint reasons of their own, name Faith, Hope, and Charity, all have a turn at us, and our batteries reply; but there is not much vigour in it on either side until Middle Hill, with its Creusot 94-pounder, and the howitzer on Surprise Hill, begin to shell our naval 12-pounders.  There they touch Captain Lambton on a tender point, and he lets them have it back with a will.  To-day we have been cheered by news of the victory over the Boers near Mooi River, but for Natal people satisfaction is dashed by the thought that if Boers are so far down they have raided the most fertile part of the Colony, and probably carried off pedigree cattle that are priceless.