From a photograph by Lafayette, Ltd., London

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE OF THE HOSPITAL-SHIP MAINE

From left to right: Lady Essex, Mrs. Griffiths, Mrs. Van Duzer, Mrs. Von André, Mrs. Ronalds, Mrs. Leslie, Lady Randolph Churchill, Mrs. Arthur Paget, Mrs. Blow, Mrs. Moreton Frewen, Mrs. Haldeman, Mrs. Field.

charge them fit for duty. These did not go to the front at once, but were sent to Pietermaritzburg or elsewhere to do light duty till quite recovered.

It was astonishing how little the authorities were able to cope with the subject of clothing. At the front the men were nearly naked, their khaki hanging on them in shreds, the uniform being made of abominable stuff and having to be worn for perhaps five or six months. When one reflects on the thousands and thousands of pounds that were spent in clothing for the hospitals not only by the Government, but by private persons, it seems incredible that the sick and wounded were allowed to leave one hospital to be drafted to another, or to a hospital-ship, in the tattered garments in which they were carried in from the battle-field. With my own eyes I saw among a party of wounded who were being transferred from a tug to the Maine and the other hospital-ship, the Nubia, a man whose khaki trousers were conspicuous by their absence, a pocket-handkerchief being tied around one of his wounded legs. This man had probably been through several hospitals, each time sent off again in his rags. Surely a reserve of uniforms or ordinary clothing might have been kept for extreme cases such as this, and the principal medical officer allowed a little But when I discretion in the matter. discussed this point with one of the authorities, he said it would be an impossibility. "You might as well have an office for recording the wishes and messages of the dying.' What a happy huntingground the red-tape fiend has in time of war! He sits and gloats on all occasions. Think of a man in a hospital who, being on a full diet, suddenly develops fever or some other complication, needing an altered régime-say a milk diet-having to starve for twenty-four hours until the medical officer makes his rounds again and Incidents alters it! This was a fact. such as these made one admire the audacity of Major Brazier Creagh, a young and energetic ambulance officer, who, when remonstrated with for spending too much money in comforts, said his business was to bring the sick and wounded down safely, and give them everything which would further that end-“not to make accounts and count the cost."

I was very anxious to go up to the front, and visit the various hospitals on the way, and after many pourparlers I received permission and a pass from General Wolfe Murray to go to Chieveley Camp. The Governor, Sir Walter HelyHutchinson, was kind enough to lend me his own railway carriage. Provided with food, armed with cameras and field-glasses, not to mention a brown holland dress (my substitute for khaki) in case we should meet the enemy and wish to remain invisible, we started on our journey-Miss Warrender, Colonel Hensman, the commanding officer of the Maine, and I, and last, but not least, the coxswain of The train the Terrible, Porch by name. was full of officers and men returning to the front. Although we were traveling at night, I was kept awake by the thought that I was going to pass all those well-known and to me peculiarly interesting places-Mooi River, Estcourt, and Frere, scene of the armored-train disaster.

I

We arrived at Estcourt in the middle of the night. I hung my head out and entered into a conversation with a friendly sergeant, who informed me that in a few moments he would have to call the railway staff officer, whose duty it was to inspect the train and see that no suspects were in it, or travelers without passes. plied the sergeant with questions. Had they caught many spies, and what happened to them? Several had been captured, and two nights before a young lady who had been seen for a few days riding in the vicinity of the camp had been arrested and sent through to Durban as a spy. He was full of the generosity of the Tommies, who came down in the same trains with some wounded Boers, telling how they vied with one another in attentions to their sick foes, sharing their tobacco with them, and tying up their My new-found friend bandages. waxing eloquent when suddenly the clock struck two, and he left me abruptly, disHe came appearing inside the station. smart young officer, back following a whose sleepy, dazed eyes showed that he had been hastily awakened. Every pass was then minutely examined, every face scanned, and I saw with keen interest two men dragged out of the next compartment, one a typical Boer, the other a small,

was

long time." In my eagerness I was pro-
ceeding to jump down, when he remarked
that I wore no shoes, and, with a glance
at my disheveled locks, suggested a hat.
As I walked to the hut, dawn was just
breaking. Long, orange-red streaks out-
lined the distant brown hills, through the
haze of dust showing on the sky-line trains
of mule-carts were crawling along, and
in the plain little groups of soldiers and
horsemen were moving about, emerging
from the tents. My host seated me on a
stool in the tiny veranda, and gave me an
excellent cup of coffee. He was so de-
lighted to have some one to speak to that
the words and questions came tumbling
out. Waiting for no answer, in one
breath he told me how he had been there
for months, broiling, with heaps of un-
congenial work to do, all responsibility
and anxiety, and no excitement or danger.
He lived in daily hopes of getting some
fighting. Meanwhile "Some one has to
do the dirty work, and there it is." He
showed me the hut, two cubicles opening
on the veranda, one for the aide-de-camp
with no bed, the other for the colonel with
a small camp-stretcher.

About twenty miles after leaving Frere we slowed down, and the friendly guard, knowing who I was, rushed to tell me we were passing the place of the armoredtrain disaster. Sure enough, there was the train, lying on its side, a mangled and battered thing, and within a few yards a grave with a cross-three sentries mounting guard-marking the place where the poor fellows killed in it were buried.

At Chieveley we were met by General Barton and an aide-de-camp, who took us all over the camp.

It was a wonderful

sight. The weatherbeaten and in many
cases haggard men, with soiled, worn uni-
forms hanging on their spare figures, the
horses picketed in lines or singly, covered
with canvas torn in strips to keep the flies
off, the khaki-painted guns, the ambulance
wagons with their train of mules, and,
above all, the dull booming of "Long
Tom," made us realize that here was war.
We sat down on the outskirts of the camp
near a sham gun guarded by a middy from
Here also I saw the gun
the Terrible.
which the blue-jackets had named after
Six miles off, through our glasses we
could see Colenso and the enemy's camp,
the white tents being those captured from

me.

the British. The whole panorama spread
out was a thrilling sight. Major Stuart
Wortley and Captain MacBean rode up
and greeted us warmly, but they, like all
the other officers, were terribly dejected at
the news of the retreat from Spion Kop,
so gloriously won and at such a sacrifice
the night before. "They are actually on
their way back to Spearman's Camp:
what can it mean?" The whole camp
was in a state of disgust and despair and
We
"groused" to their heart's content.
were invited by the Seventh Fusiliers to
have breakfast with them, which was none
the less appetizing because served in tin
mugs and pewter plates. The flies, how-
ever, were a terrible plague, covering every-
thing in an instant, besides buzzing in
one's face and hair. In the hope of hear-
ing something of my sons, I asked General
Barton to let me send a letter to Spear-
man's Camp. He kindly consented, and
I looked
installed me in his little tent.
around with curiosity and interest at the
Sitting
General's quarters-a camp-stool, a wash-
ing-basin, a box-nothing more.

on the camp-stool with my feet on a tin
box, I was scribbling away, when a rider
galloped up, calling out in a cheery voice,
"General! are you there?" His look of
blank astonishment when he caught sight
of me was most amusing. A woman in
the camp, and in the general's tent! I
explained, and after a few laughing re-
This was General
marks he rode off.

Thorald, who, alas! poor man, was killed the following week. Major Stuart Wortley asked us to stay and dine, but I thought discretion was the better part of valor, and not wishing to abuse the general's kindness in letting us come up, we departed, wishing these brave men good luck and the speedy relief of Ladysmith.

Life on board became a round of daily duties, varied only by excitement in reIt was interesting to gard to war news. distribute newspapers to the soldiers, they were so keen and eager in discussing Even those who were bedevery point. ridden and too ill to read would clutch you as you passed. "Any news-Ladysmith? Nothing? What, back againChieveley Camp? That Buller 'e 's unlucky; better try another; and we wants to get to them poor chaps." I argued on the principle that perhaps the general