November 27, 1899.

The great event of the day was the firing of the new “Long Tom.”  The Boers placed it yesterday on the hill beyond Waggon Hill, where the 60th hold our extreme post towards the west.  The point is called Middle Hill.  It commands all the west of the town and camp, the Maritzburg road from Range Post on, and the greater part of Caesar’s Camp, where the Manchesters are.  The gun is the same kind as “Long Tom” and “Puffing Billy”—­a 6 in.  Creusot, throwing a shell of about 96lbs.  The Boers have sixteen of them; some say twenty-three.  The name is “Gentleman Joe.”  He did about L5 damage at the cost of L200.  From about 8 to 9 a.m. the general bombardment was rather severe.  There are thirty-three guns “playing” on us to-day, and though they do not concentrate their fire, they keep one on the alert.  This morning a Kaffir was working for the Army Service Corps (being at that moment engaged in kneading a pancake), when a small shell hit him full in the mouth, passed clean through his head, and burst on the ground beyond.  I believe he was the only man actually killed to-day.

A Frenchman who came in yesterday from the Boer lines was examined by General Hunter.  He is a roundabout little man, who says he came from Madagascar into the Transvaal by Delagoa Bay, and was commandeered to join the Boer army.  He came with a lot of German officers, who drank champagne hard.  On his arrival it was found he could not ride or shoot, or live on biltong.  He could do nothing but talk French, a useless accomplishment in South Africa.  And so they sent him into our camp to help eat our rations.  The information he gave was small.  Joubert believes he can starve us out in a fortnight.  He little knows.  We could still hold out for over a month without eating a single horse, to say nothing of rats.  It is true we have to drop our luxuries.  Butter has gone long ago, and whisky has followed.  Tinned meats, biscuits, jams—­all are gone.  “I wish to Heaven the relief column would hurry up,” sighed a young officer to me.  “Poor fellow,” I thought, “he longs for the letters from his own true love.”  “You see, we can’t get any more Quaker oats,” he added in explanation.

In the afternoon I took copies of the Ladysmith Lyre to some of the outlying troops.  It is but a single page of four short columns, and with a cartoon by Mr. Maud.  But the pathetic gratitude with which it was received, proved that to appreciate literature of the highest order, you have only to be shut up for a month under shell fire.

     November 28, 1899.

Hopeful news came of British successes, both at Estcourt and Mooi River.  The relief column is now thought to be at Frere, not far below Colenso.  A large Boer convoy, with 800 mounted men, was seen trending away towards the Free State passes, perhaps retiring.  Everybody was much cheered up.  The Boer guns fired now and then, but did little damage.  At night we placed two howitzers on a nek in Waggon Hill, where the 60th have a post south-west of the town.