Not that the Gordons and Irregular Horse lead a leisurely life, or have any especial immunity from shells.  On the contrary, they take a full share of duties in many forms, and they have been rather singled out as marks for the enemy’s guns to aim at; but they have not to rough it as a whole battalion on hillsides without tents day after day, as their outpost lines or patrols can be relieved from standing camps in the hollows, and in those camps the main bodies, at any rate, get a fair allowance of undisturbed sleep, for it is only by day that they are bombarded.  When the fire is not too hot, Gordons, and Light Horse especially, have merry times at regimental sports or friendly contests.

In a despatch sent out by a Kaffir runner, who has never come back to claim the reward for success, I gave a description of sports in the Gordon camp, when they and the Imperial Light Horse had a football match in the presence of many spectators, Sir George White and several members of his staff being of the number.  Such a gathering in full sight of Bulwaan was too tempting for the enemy’s gunners to resist.  People were so absorbed in the game that they did not at first notice a cloud of smoke from “Puffing Billy,” and when they did understand what the Kaffir warning “Boss up” meant, there was only time for the spectators to scatter hurriedly among tents before a shell fell plump between the goals and burst there,—­the spectators flying in all directions,—­but fortunately without harm to anybody.  The men coolly filled up the pit where the missile, that had so nearly “queered their pitch,” fell, and then played their game out; but care was taken to prevent onlookers from getting into a dense crowd again, and mule races were substituted for football, as presenting a less favourable mark for the aim of Boer gunners.  These, however, seemed to be quite satisfied for a time with having made one good shot.  They ceased firing, and stood or sat on the battery parapets, where, with the aid of glasses, they could be clearly seen watching the sports through telescopes and binoculars with sympathetic interest.  But that did not prevent them from turning their gun with malicious intent on the town after these camp sports ended.  It was nearly dark when two shots fell near the Royal Hotel, and the third went through it to find a victim in poor Dr. Stark.

The Gordons, for some reason or other, seem to have a curious fascination for our foes, who single this battalion out for special attentions, some of which could be dispensed with.  In the form of frequent shells they are distinctly embarrassing, as it is impossible at present for the Highlanders to acknowledge such courtesies by an appropriate reply.  If they are intended as invitations to closer acquaintance I am quite sure our kilted comrades will be happy to oblige any night by kind permission of the General commanding.  The Boers, however, indulge at times in pleasantries that show no bitterness of feeling, but rather a desire