I am out here now on a bluff, with two trees in front and great hills with names historical of the siege of Ladysmith--names which I refuse to learn or remember--I am perfectly comfortable and were it not for Cecil perfectly content-- If she were only here it would be perfectly magnificent-- I have a retinue that would do credit to the Warringtons in the Virginians-- Three Kaffir boys who refuse to yield to my sense of the picturesque and go naked like their less effete brothers, two oxen and three ponies, a little puppy I found starved in Ladysmith and fed on compressed beef tablets.
I call her Ladysmith and she sleeps beside my cot and in my lap when I am reading--I have also a beautiful tent with tape window panes, ventilators, pockets inside, doors that loop up and red knobs; also, it is green so that the ants won't eat it.

Also two tables, two chairs, a bath tub, two lanterns, and a cape cart--and a folding bed-- In Cuba I had two saddle bags and was just as clean and just as happy.

One boy does nothing but polish my boots and gaiters and harness, so that I look as well as the officers who are not much good at anything but that.

I must tell you what I think is the saddest story of the siege-- They could not feed the horses, so they kept part of them for scouting, part to eat and drove 3,000 of them towards the Boers.

Being, well trained cavalry horses, they did not know how to eat grass, so at bugle call the whole 3,000 came trotting back again and sentries were placed at every street to stampede them back into the veldt-- One horse from one battery met out in the prairie another horse that had been its gun mate in an artillery regiment five years before in India and the two poor things came galloping back side by side and passed the sentries and into the lines and drew up beside their battery.