said: "there are none of us infallible, not even the youngest of us."
Not even Lord Methuen, as we had sadly discovered. The brightness of our
Christmas prospects was beginning to fade.

It faded a great deal when typhoid fever broke out in the Light Horse
camp. The outbreak was attributed to the uncertain water we had to use,
since the purer supply had been cut off. The new water was none too
good. We had been repeatedly warned to boil it before drinking it, and
were now adjured to do so. A large number heeded the warning, but the
perverse majority heeded it not; they did not find it convenient to
spare fuel to boil what was not essential to the creation of the "cup
that cheers" when there is milk in it. Scurvy was playing havoc with the
native population. These trials and tribulations did not enhance our
festive dispositions on the eve of Christmas. A programme of sports
attracted all the Tapleys; but there was little until evening, when the
scramble for the good cheer that was _not_ in the shops had begun, to
enable one to remember that Yule was nigh.

The scene was one that will be long remembered in the Diamond City. It
was only the very large stores that had anything to sell. Before the war
broke out Abrahams and Co. had purchased an immense stock of foodstuffs;
but a great hole had been made in it, and it was to be much greater
_after_ Christmas. It was at Abrahams', therefore, that the multitude
swarmed. The traffic in sweet peas, jams, and raisins was heavy. Boer
meal with imported raisins in it was the richest possible pudding! The
sale of sweets was unprecedented--so unprecedented that toothache was an
epidemic until French relieved it. How the shop assistant clung to his
reason is a mystery which has yet to be solved. Behind the counter he
was hampered by the local _elite_: Judges, Doctors, Directors, etc., who
would never say die (from hunger) while they lived. Outside the counter