in practice at range-finding for their guidance in future eventualities.  Any story proved acceptable as a relief to the weariness of life in camp, that day when the thermometer registered 108 deg. in the shade.  What a climate Natal has!  For fickleness it beats anything we have to grumble about in England.  At night the temperature went down to 65 deg., and the brilliant summer weather broke up suddenly in a fierce thunderstorm.  For a time every object roundabout would be blotted out by inky blackness, and for the next two or three minutes the lowering angry clouds would pulsate with dazzling light that leaped upward like life-blood from the throbbing heart of the storm.  Each thundering peal was followed by a momentary lull, and then spasmodic gusts shook the air, as if Nature were drawing a deep breath for another effort.  Before daybreak yesterday the storm had cleared, leaving a clouded sky, but no mists about the hilltops, to prevent a continuance of the bombardment.

Surprise Hill’s howitzer surpassed previous performances by throwing three shells over Convent Ridge into the town, and the Bulwaan guns, having done with imaginary foes eastward, turned their attention to us once more.  One of the earliest shells from that battery struck the mess tent of the Devon Regiment, and burst among officers at breakfast with disastrous results.  Captain Lafone, who had been wounded at Elandslaagte, was killed; Lieutenant Price-Dent so seriously injured that there is little hope of his recovery; six other subalterns wounded—­one being hit by shrapnel bullets or splinters in four places—­and the mess waiter struck down by a heavy splinter that embedded itself beneath the ribs in a cavity too deep for probing at present.  There was a curiously spiteful touch in the bombardment all day, and at midnight we were roused by sounds of rapid rifle-firing that began from Bell’s Spruit and the railway cutting against Observation Hill and ran along to Rifleman’s Ridge on one flank, and Devonshire Hill on the other.  It was all Boer firing, but no shots came into the line of defences, and our men did not reply by letting off so much as one rifle.  A thunder-storm raged to the accompaniment of heavy rain for some time, and perhaps the enemy thought we might choose such a night for attacking them under cover of intense darkness.

     The last few days of the closing year were, on the whole, quiet,
     though, as Mr. Pearse seems to have felt, important events were
     brewing.  We make the following extracts from his notebook:—­

December 28.—­This morning there was just a pale glimmer of dawn when our large naval gun assumed the aggressive part, and sent six shells in rapid succession on to Bulwaan battery and the hillside, where Boers were moving about.  A little later stretcher parties could be seen collecting apparently wounded men.  As “Puffing Billy” made no reply to this challenge, but remained silent all day, it is probable that many of the gunners were