theories--they were nothing more--but their effects were depressing;
they threw an atmosphere of gloom over the city, which was reflected in
a thousand faces. What was once a "frigid falsehood" had been modified
to mean a "gross exaggeration." This connoted a slight departure from
sentiment, a tendency to reason, to think more dispassionately. Anxious
as we were to get again in touch with the world and what it could offer
to eat, we could no longer evade the sorrowful conclusion that siege
figures, like every other, make four of two and two.

In the distance the cannon kept booming intermittently; nothing but
boom. Our besiegers' guns were being used to check the advance of
Methuen. There remained only one piece of ordnance, nicknamed "Old
Susannah," to keep Kimberley in order. The Premier Mine was the
recipient of some lumps of love from this amorous gipsy; but nobody was
smitten by her charms.

The death of the Mayor of Beaconsfield was announced in the afternoon.
In him the Town Guard lost a capable captain, and Kimberley a worthy
citizen. Saturday was Dingaan's day--a sad reminder of the rejoicings
associated with the anniversary, and which had to be skipped for once.
Despite the prevailing glumness, however, the populace turned out to
patronise a gymkhana entertainment at the Light Horse camp. The bands of
the two regiments contributed musical selections; admission was free
(which accounted for a packed "house"); but when the hat was artfully
passed round for our charity we winced, and were only partially
satisfied that it was at our discretion surreptitiously to put in it
what we would from a button to a shilling.

Amid such _gala_ surroundings the week ended. We were still in the dark,
the doings of the Column were yet enveloped in mystery. The thunder of