Amid the shell-fire, the scanty rations, the enteric and the dysentery, one ray of comfort had always brightened the garrison.  Buller was only twelve miles away—­they could hear his guns—­and when his advance came in earnest their sufferings would be at an end.  But now in an instant this single light was shut off and the true nature of their situation was revealed to them.  Buller had indeed moved. . .but backwards.  He had been defeated at Colenso, and the siege was not ending but beginning.  With heavier hearts but undiminished resolution the army and the townsfolk settled down to the long, dour struggle.  The exultant enemy replaced their shattered guns and drew their lines closer still round the stricken town.

A record of the siege onwards until the break of the New Year centres upon the sordid details of the sick returns and of the price of food.  Fifty on one day, seventy on the next, passed under the hands of the overworked and devoted doctors.  Fifteen hundred, and later two thousand, of the garrison were down.  The air was poisoned by foul sewage and dark with obscene flies.  They speckled the scanty food.  Eggs were already a shilling each, cigarettes sixpence, whisky five pounds a bottle:  a city more free from gluttony and drunkenness has never been seen.

Shell-fire has shown itself in this war to be an excellent ordeal for those who desire martial excitement with a minimum of danger.  But now and again some black chance guides a bomb—­one in five thousand perhaps—­to a most tragic issue.  Such a deadly missile falling among Boers near Kimberley is said to have slain nine and wounded seventeen.  In Ladysmith too there are days to be marked in red when the gunner shot better than he knew.  One shell on December 17th killed six men (Natal Carabineers), wounded three, and destroyed fourteen horses.  The grisly fact has been recorded that five separate human legs lay upon the ground.  On December 22nd another tragic shot killed five and wounded twelve of the Devons.  On the same day four officers of the 5th Lancers (including the Colonel) and one sergeant were wounded—­a most disastrous day.  A little later it was again the turn of the Devons, who lost one officer killed and ten wounded.  Christmas set in amid misery, hunger, and disease, the more piteous for the grim attempts to amuse the children and live up to the joyous season, when the present of Santa Claus was too often a 96-pound shell.  On the top of all other troubles it was now known that the heavy ammunition was running short and must be husbanded for emergencies.  There was no surcease, however, in the constant hail which fell upon the town.  Two or three hundred shells were a not unusual daily allowance.  The monotonous bombardment with which the New Year had commenced was soon to be varied by a most gallant and spirit-stirring clash of arms.  On January 6th the Boers delivered their great assault upon Ladysmith—­an onfall so gallantly made and gallantly met that it deserves to rank among the classic fights of British military history.  It is a tale which neither side need be ashamed to tell.  Honour to the sturdy infantry who held their grip so long, and honour also to the rough men of the veld, who, led by untrained civilians, stretched us to the utmost capacity of our endurance.