and the pig, hitherto despised, had come to be looked up to as an asset
and a "gentleman."

In the afternoon a heavy hailstorm passed over the town; the clatter of
hailstones--of enormous size--was unprecedented. It furnished a new and
refreshing topic of conversation, and the war was dropped for full five
minutes--while the shower lasted. Rumours Of a meditated attack on the
enemy's fortifications were the subject of much speculation; that the
morrow would be a big day was the general feeling at bedtime.

The big day came round in due course; we had a big thunderstorm, but in
no other respect was Monday large. The Boers signalised the occasion by
the inauguration of a new plan of campaign, which, if the gods were
kind, would soon compel the surrender of the Diamond City. The
plan--like all great plans--was simple; a dozen guns were trained on
Kenilworth, where browsed the precious bullocks upon whose safety hung
the fate of Kimberley. To kill them all was the end in view. Inspirited
by the thought of the hunger and the "fall" that would follow, the enemy
poured forth a liberal fusillade upon Kenilworth. The cattle-guards,
exposed to grave danger, never shirked their duty. It was not until the
Boers had well warmed to their work that we managed by the play of a
Maxim to cool their ardour. The new departure was a failure. A most
incomprehensible bombardment was subsequently opened on an isolated
place, called "the Brickfields," where no animate thing above the bite
of a mosquito lived, moved, or had its being.

The exigencies of our position necessitated the cultivation of early
rising; but the Boers had, so far, invariably set the ball rolling; they
had acquired a knack of irritating us in their choice of unexpected
moments for starting operations day by day. On Tuesday the