its artillery had lost its charm, and indeed a great deal of its noise.
Dame Rumour, the lying jade, was saying nasty things, but
downhearted--what! not much! The last flash on Saturday night was from a
_manufactured_ gem. The Boer Army was in Cape Town, if you please!--with
their guns on Table Mountain--and all the Britons in the sea--swimming
home to dear old England! Well, no matter; Kimberley would fight on,
constitute a "new Capital," perhaps, or fall, if fate ordained it, with
its face to the foe.




CHAPTER X

_Week ending 23d December, 1899_


Everything was going from bad to worse, and though the tropical weather
was not conducive to heartiness of appetite the dishes on our tables
were distressing. To attempt to compute the countless creature comforts
missing at this stage of our sorrows would be ridiculous; nor do I
propose inflicting on the reader a reiteration of what remained to keep
body and soul together. Discussion on the Column and its catering
potentialities had come to be proscribed, and lamentations over the
sufferings of the inner man were as bitter as if all hope of alleviation
had vanished for ever and hunger was to be our portion for all time.
Indeed, when matters became worse a better spirit of resignation was
manifested. To the seasoned campaigner roughing it on the Karoo our
fare, plenty of it, might seem good, luxurious even; but to us, with
very little of it, surrounded by the civilising influences of knives and