"Appendices I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII." by Sir Henry (Harry) George Wakelyn Smith (1788-1860). From: The autobiography of Lieutenant-General Sir Harry Smith, baronet of Aliwal on the Sutlej, G.C.B.. By Sir Henry (Harry) George Wakelyn Smith (1788-1860). Ed. with the addition of some supplementary chapters, by George Charles Moore Smith (1858-1940). London: J. Murray, 1903.

APPENDIX I.

DIARY OF THE EXPEDITION TO MONTE VIDEO, ETC.
1806-7.

1806. Nov. [Oct.?] 9th.–Sailed from Falmouth under convoy of His Majesty's ship Ardent (Capt. Donnelly), Unicorn frigate, Daphne, 20-guns ship, Pheasant and Charwell, Sloops-of-war, with a fleet of about 25 transports, a store-ship for the Cape of Good Hope, and a merchant ship for the East Indies. The force consists of a Company of Artillery, under Capt. Dixon; three Companies of the 2nd Battalion Rifle Regiment, under Major T. C. Gardner; 17th Light Dragoons, Col. Loyd; 40th Regiment of Foot, Col. Browne; and 87th, Col. Sir Edward Butler; the whole under Brigadier-General Sir Samuel Auchmuty. Brigadier-General the Hon. William Lumley, Brigadier of the Horse; Lieut.-Col. Bradford, Deputy Adjutant-General; Lieut.-Col. Bourke, Deputy Quartermaster-General; Captain Blake, Assistant Adjutant-General; Lt. Tylden, Brigade Major to Sir Samuel; Captain Roach, Brigade-Major to General Lumley; Mr. Baddock, Deputy Paymaster-General; Mr. Bissett, Deputy Commissary of Accompts; Mr. Redman, Deputy Inspector of Hospitals. A fine breeze until the 12th, when we were becalmed in the Bay of Biscay. Lovely weather.

13th.–A breeze sprung up which increased into a gale. Blew dreadfully hard. Sea ran mountains high. Continued until the 16th, when it gradually died away; a heavy sea still running, with the heavy rolling of the ship, sprang the main piece of our rudder. We made a signal of distress, which was instantly answered by the Commodore, who made a signal to the Charwell to come alongside us, which she did, and hailed us. She immediately sent a boat on board with her carpenter. Soon after the Unicorn came up with us. She also sent a boat on board, with a lieutenant, midshipman, and carpenter, with everything requisite to repair our rudder, which was soon done. A steady breeze until the 18th, when it again blew hard. The Daphne and a Transport with 150 men of the 40th Regiment parted convoy in the night. Still continued to blow until the 23rd, when we were becalmed. Lovely weather. Captain of the ship took an observation for the first time since at sea. Latitude 47° 35' North.

24th.–Breeze sprung up. Lat. 39° 37'. Breeze freshened. Continued until the 30th. Commodore lost a man overboard. Lovely weather. In the evening observed two large whales close to the ship. They followed us some time and greatly amused us. Lat. 32° 9'.

Nov. 1st.–At daybreak discovered land, to our great delight. It proved to be the Canary Isles. In sight of them the whole of the day. The ground appeared mountainous and barren, with an aspect bleak to a degree. Beautiful weather, with a fine breeze which soon carried us into the Trade winds. The flying-fish begin to be innumerable.

Nov. 4th.–Lat. 23°. A shark passed close under our stern.

Nov. 5th.–Lat. 21° 40'. Fine fresh breeze. The Harriet Transport, with the Artillery on board, made a signal of distress, which proved to be from the death of her captain. Flying-fish so numerous, they resemble large flocks of larks. Some of them were by accurate observation seen to fly from 100 to 200 yards and upwards.

Nov. 6th.–Lat. 18° 31'. Fine fresh breeze. In the evening an unfortunate flying-fish flew on board us, being close pursued by an enemy, which measured 8 inches from head to tail, and 9 1/2 from the extreme of each wing. Tail forked like a mackerel. Cooked him for breakfast the next morning. Every one tasted him.

Nov. 7th.–Lat. 16° 53'. Thermometer 80° in the shade. Weather very warm. Signal from Commodore for Commanding Officers of Corps. A fine turtle close to the ship. We wished for him on board. To our astonishment, although a considerable distance from land, we were in shoal water the whole of the day, supposed to be a sand-bank, the water by times being quite discoloured. Commodore, not meaning to put into any port, made a signal for the troops and seamen to be put on short allowance of water, two quarts per man, all ranks.

Nov. 8th.–Lat. 15° 19'. Therm. 84°. Scorching hot. Speared some fish at the bow of the ship.

Nov. 9th.–Lat. 15° 12'. Therm. 82°. Fine weather, but no breeze. Caught two venata with bait. They resemble a mackerel as much as possible, except that they are about twice as large. Cooked them. Coarse, hard and bad eating. A flying-fish flew on board and fell into a tub of water.

Nov. 10th.–Lat. 14° 34'; long. 23°. Therm. 83°. Pheasant, Sloop-of-war, made sail in search of land, which must be the Cape de Verd Isles. Suppose she made it, as she joined convoy in the evening.

Nov. 11th.–Lat. 12° 57'. Therm. 82°. Venata are innumerable. It is very amusing to see them leap out of the water in pursuit of the poor flying-fish.

Nov. 12th.–Lat. 10° 49'. Therm. 82°.

Nov. 13th.–At 10 a.m. every appearance of a storm. The clouds put on a terrible aspect. Fortunately it was not violent, going off with torrents of rain. Five minutes before 5 p.m. a waterspout was observed to the westward, which emptied itself in torrents over the bow of the Pheasant without intermission, until 5 minutes past 5.

Nov. 14th.–Dark cloudy weather. No observations.

Nov. 15th.–Lat. 7° 53'. Therm. 83°. A boat of the Charwell's swamped as they were about to hoist it up. All hands overboard, but saved. Went on board the Commodore with returns to the General.

Nov. 16th.–Lat. 6° 38'. Therm. 86°. Sultry close weather, with storms of thunder and lightning. Stark calm, with tremendous showers, the rain coming down in torrents, not drops

Nov. 17th.–Lat. 6° 17'. Therm. 82°. Weather less sultry with heavy showers. A large flight of birds resembling ducks ahead, so close together in the water they resemble a floating island. Loaded rifles and fired at them, but to no purpose.

Nov. 18th.–Lat. 6° 1'. Therm. 84°. No breeze. Tremendous thunderstorm, with torrents of rain.

Nov. 19th.–No observation, being cloudy dirty weather. A signal for masters of transports to go on board Commodore. A brig sent home for inattention and not obeying signals. The troops on board her were distributed on board different ships. Wrote letters home in hopes of being able to send them by her, but a breeze springing up prevented our lowering a boat, to my great disappointment.

Nov. 20th.–Lat. 4° 44'. Therm. 82°. Nice breeze but rather ahead. At 6 p.m. the Pheasant passed us under all sail. On coming alongside the Commodore she hoisted his ensign, which was immediately returned by him. It is always done when a ship parts convoy. Suppose she is sent forward to Buenos Ayres.

Nov. 21st.–Lat. 3° 45'; long. 26° 38' West. Therm. 82°. Fine breeze.

Nov. 22nd.–Lat. 3° 14'. Therm. 81°. Squally. Wind changing often and suddenly.

Nov. 23rd.–Lat. 2° 30'. Therm. 80°. Weather cool, considering how near we are to the sun.

Nov. 24th.–Lat. 1° 49'. Therm. 82°. Fine breeze but rather ahead. Evening squally. A strange sail to windward. Proved to be an American.

Nov. 25th.–Dark and cloudy. No observation. Plenty of wind.

Nov. 26th.–Lat. 15' South; long. 32° West. One of the sailors caught an immense large albacore with a spear. Took three men to haul him in. He had a curious prickly fin upon his back, which he could completely hide in a crevice so as not to be perceived, and when hurt would set it up. Sea completely covered with flying-fish. A signal made for our ship to take in tow the Three Sisters, a small brig, she being to leeward. Ran down to her and obeyed the signal.

Nov. 27th.–Lat. 1° 29'; long. 32°. Speared another large albacore, which measured 4 feet long and 2 feet 9 inches in circumference.

Nov. 28th.–Lat. 3°. Therm. 82°. Signal made by Commodore signifying land in sight, bearing south-south-west, upon which he altered his course one point more to the westward. Supposed to be the island Ferando Noronha.

Nov. 29th.–Lat. 4° 12'. Therm. 84°.

Nov. 30th.–Lat. 5° 27'; long. 34° 15'. Therm. 81°. Took in tow the Osborne, a large ship with Dragoons on board.

Dec. 1st.–Lat. 6° 39'. Therm. 82°. At 6 o'clock a.m. a signal made by Commodore signifying land in sight, supposed to be Cape Augustin.

Dec. 2nd.–Lat. 8° 20'. Therm. 82°. Have observed for these two or three days the flying-fish have almost entirely disappeared.

Dec. 3rd.–Lat. 10° 3'. Therm. 81°. The two merchant ships, the Lincoln and Loyalist, the former bound to the East Indies, the latter store-ship for the Cape of Good Hope, parted convoy. On altering their course every ship hoisted her ensign, which was returned by them by way of farewell. Had a pretty effect.

Dec. 4th.–Lat. 12° 42'. Therm. 81°. Lovely breeze. A signal for masters of transports to caulk and prepare their boats for landing.

Dec. 5th.–Lat. 15° 24'. Therm. 80°. A schooner in sight to the westward bearing down for us. Overhauled by the Charwell, and proved to be a Portuguese bound for San Salvador.

Dec. 6th.–Fresh breeze. No observation.

Dec. 7th.–Lat. 19° 26'. Therm. 82°. Observed a shark which followed the ship a long time, accompanied with three pilot fish. Threw a bait to him, upon which one of his pilot fish swam to it and tasted, and reported accordingly to its master. Observed the breeze to die away by day and blow by night.

Dec. 8th.–Lat. 20°; 8'. Therm. 86°. Dreadfully hot.

Dec. 9th.–Lat. 20° 48'; long. 39° 34'.

Dec. 10th.–Lat. 22° 5'; long. 40° 29'.–A signal from Commodore signifying land in sight, supposed at first to be Rio Janeiro, afterwards proved to be Cape Frio, about 40 miles distant from it. Therm. 85°. A tremendous thunderstorm, louder than anything I ever heard.

"Loud thunder from the distant poles ensue,
Then flashing fires the transient light renew."

Dec. 12th.–Beating all day off Cape Frio, endeavouring to get into port. Wind ahead. At 9 p.m. wind came round. Weathered Cape Frio.

Dec. 13th.–Made the bay. On the first appearance of the land it put me in mind of the following lines in Thomson's Hymn on the Seasons:–

"Should fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beams
Flame on th' Atlantic Isles,'tis nought to me,
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
In the void waste as in the city full,
And where He vital spreads, there must be joy."

Dec. 14th.–At 12 weighed anchor. The entrance of the harbour is very grand. On the left hand is an immense rock called the Sugar-loaf, which it correctly resembles. At the foot of it is a strong battery. On the right hand is a pretty little fort, apparently very strong, having three tiers of heavy guns. At a small distance from the mouth of the harbour is a little island with a fort upon it, which gives the bay a pretty and rather romantic appearance. As soon as the Commodore came to an anchor, he fired a salute of 19 guns, which was immediately returned by the different batteries, the echo of which in the surrounding hills was beyond description grand.

General, Staff, and Commodore went on shore to call upon the Viceroy. When in the boat the Ardent fired a salute of 19 guns to them. The General obtained permission for the officers and a proportion of men to go on shore.

Dec. 15th.–Went on shore, and was highly delighted with the town of Rio Janeiro. It is very large but irregularly built, situated on a spacious and commodious bay. You land nearly opposite the Viceroy's palace, which stands on the south side of a large and regular square. You see nothing scarcely but poor slaves carrying immense loads, and friars in their cocked hats going to and from the monasteries. Their carriages resemble in some manner our single-horse chaises, but badly made and drawn by two mules. On the near one rides the charioteer, in a huge cocked hat; the off one is in the shafts. They go astonishingly quick. Saw but few horses, those small and bad. The mules are most beautiful animals, and the inhabitants tell you are much more serviceable then the horses. They are as clean about the legs as our race-horses, and full of spirit. Fowls and ducks plentiful, but rather dear. The oxen and sheep are small and bad. Pigs in abundance. Fruits of all sorts. Pines are larger than ours, but not so fine flavoured; you get them for 6d. apiece. Oranges, lemons, limes, sweet and sour, bananas, yams, etc., etc. They make no butter or cheese. They get it from England or America. The grandees, when they appear abroad, are carried in a kind of palanquin, which is borne on two negroes' shoulders. Most of these are blue, and adorned with fringes in general of the same colour. They have a velvet pillow, and above the head a kind of tester with curtains. He may either lie down or sit up. (See Guthrie.)

I must think, from what we have seen of the inhabitants, Guthrie speaks too harshly of them. They paid us every attention–nay, so much so that they were troublesome; and were honest in their dealings. The canoes afforded us great amusement. They are rowed by two or three negroes, according to the size of them–not with oars, but a thing resembling a spade. They appear, as they go along, to be digging the water.

I went into one of their monasteries, the chapel of which was very grand. There was also a capital library. The monks were extremely polite, and showed us everything particular. Their service is in Latin. There are four monasteries, and two nunneries filled with poor wretches of girls, who are not allowed to speak to their own fathers. I dined in what they call a cooking-house. The host showed us into a miserable back room looking into the kitchen, where was a black fellow cooking. My stomach was not yet turned. No glass in the window (but that is the case with all the houses, except those of the grandees), and the light shining through the pantiles over our heads. We had for dinner first some macaroni soup, half oil, and scraped cheese to eat with it; afterwards some mutton chops swimming in grease, pork chops in a similar way, a pair of fowls we could scarcely pull to pieces, not an atom of flesh on their bones. There was also a piece of thin beef rolled up with the stuffing in it and roast–a famous dish for a hungry mastiff dog. These being removed, we then had a cold plum-pudding, which was very good. We drank at dinner bad American bottled ale, afterwards some decent port wine. When we called for our bill, we were all amazingly astonished. It came to 4880–whats, we could not tell. We afterwards found it was about six dollars. They give you always their bills in that way in some imaginary coin about half a farthing value.

Dec. 16th.–Did not go on shore. At 6 p.m. a Portuguese brig came into harbour, laden with poor wretches of slaves just taken from the Guinea coast–the most horrid sight imaginable.

Dec. 17th.–Went to see a grand review of the Portuguese troops They performed pretty well. There was a regular regiment of militia, and a volunteer, with some dragoons and artillery, amounting in all to about 2000 men. After it was over, all the English officers were presented to the Viceroy. Nothing more worth setting down. All of us quite tired of the place, and anxious to get away.

Dec. 23rd.–Sailed for Buenos Ayres. Nice breeze.

Dec. 24th.–Lat. 24° 47'. Out of sight of land. Therm. 80°.

Dec. 25th.–Lat. 25° 32'. Therm. 76.° Blows hard, with a heavy sea.

Dec. 26th.–Lat. 26° 51'. Heavy swell and no breeze. An immense shoal of porpoises swimming towards the north. In hopes of a fair wind, as they always swim against the wind.

Dec. 27th.–Lat. 27° 48'. Stark calm. At 4 a.m. a strong breeze sprung up, but quite ahead.

Dec. 28th.–Lat. 27° 52'.

Dec. 29th.–Lat. 27° 29'; long. 47° 9'. Went on board the Commodore. A large shoal of porpoises by their swimming portending a fair wind, which soon sprung up.

Dec. 30th.–Lat. 30° 21.

Dec. 31st.–Lat. 32° 11. Anxious to get along, but the wind against us.

1807. Jan. 1st–Lat. 32° 30; long. 51° 15.

Jan. 2nd.–Lat. 32° 30. Wind against us.

[Remainder apparently written afterwards.]

Landed four miles north of Monte Video 16th Jan., had a sharp skirmish with the enemy.

19th.–A regular battle. Licked them confoundedly.

20th.–A very severe action. The enemy's loss very great.

3rd Feb.–Stormed the fortress of Monte Video. A severe conflict. Indeed, our loss, as well as that of the enemy, was very great.

16th Jan., 1807.²⁴⁴ –Sharp skirmishing with enemy.

17th.–Ditto.

18th.–Ditto.

19th.–A regular and victorious battle in the open field.

20th.–They made a sortie; were repulsed with great loss.

From the 20th Jan. to 3rd Feb. constant skirmishes. On the morning of the 3rd Feb. stormed the fortress of Monte Video with severe loss on both sides; but carried it.

7th April, 1807 [7 June?].–Colonel Pack made a sortie from Colonia with 1000 men to meet Colonel Elio, whose force consisted of 1500. Entirely routed him, and took six pieces of cannon.

3rd June [5 July 7].–Attacked Buenos Ayres by assault. Was made prisoner, and confined three days and three nights.

Embarked for England, and arrived at Falmouth 5th Nov.

1808.–Embarked at Harwich for Sweden latter end of May [April?]. Sailed soon afterwards. Was two months in Gottenburg harbour, when we sailed for England, and refitted at Portsmouth for Portugal. Landed about 30 miles north of Lisbon latter end of July [August.?]. Marched through the south of Portugal into Spain. Had a very hot action with the French between Villa Franca and Calcavellos 3rd Jan., 1809. The loss was nearly equal on both sides. Take it all together, the most severe conflict I ever saw.

Embarked at Corunna in January, and reached England soon after.

Ready to embark again.

APPENDIX II.

SOME FAMILY LETTERS PRESERVED BY HARRY SMITH WITH PARTICULAR CARE.

Letter I. Endorsed–"7^th May, 1813. From Eleanor on Stona's marriage.–H. G. S."

Whittlesea, May 7^th, 1813.

MY DEAR HENRY,

From the ardent desire which you have long expressed concerning Stona's marriage, it will, I am convinced, give you pleasure to hear that the nuptials are at last solemnized. The ceremony took place on Tuesday, which was the fourth of May. Mr. Coleman was father, and of course led the bride to church. Stona, Kate, Charles, and Anna Maria followed, and my Uncle Ground's John in a handsome livery, and Stona's own servant (who is a particular smart-looking young man) dressed in a drab coat, and a gold band on his hat–all new for the occasion–attended to receive the bridesmaids' parasols at the church door, and remained there in waiting during the ceremony. When concluded, the party returned to breakfast at my Uncle Ground's, where were assembled to meet them a group of relations consisting of about two and twenty. Each of us was presented with a white favour, the ringers and servants also. There were forty favours given away. The bride and bridegroom, accompanied by Catherine, set off at twelve for Cambridge, and from thence they proceeded to London. I assure you they cut a dash. The postboy of course had a favour on his hat, and James, Stona's man, attended them on horseback as far as Ramsey. Unfortunately it was a Newmarket meeting, and Cambridge was so full that they could not get beds, were therefore obliged to proceed another stage that evening. About five the next day they arrived in the Metropolis, and when they had dined, they dressed for Covent Garden Theatre. Stona repeatedly expressed a great wish that it was possible to meet you in town. Neither the bride nor bridesmaid would, I can venture to say, have had any objection to that. Never poor fellow I think was in a greater agitation than Stona during the ceremony and two days before. When he was being married he trembled in such a manner that Anna Maria expected no other than he would drop the ring–and he was himself much afraid lest he should have fainted at the altar. . . .

I must not omit to tell you what a very pretty place Stona's house is, and so handsomely furnished that I declare it is enough to make me long to be married. . . .

We are now always changing our Curates; next week Mr. Cook is going to leave us, and that handsome gentlemanlike man, whom I mentioned to you in my last, Mr. Powis, is to take his place. The young ladies, they say, will become very religious, and many of them attend prayers.

I have, since writing the above, received a letter from you for which I thank you a thousand times. Believe me, I am not offended at the remark you made respecting my age, and the next time I hear from you, I expect the letter addressed to "Mrs. Eleanor Smith." You will, my dear Henry, be six and twenty in June.

My Mother, I am happy to say, is better than when I last wrote, though still rather delicate. My Father goes into quarters on Sunday. Wisbeach, as usual, is to be head-quarters.

Mrs. W—, I fear, has not added much to her happiness by marrying W—, for he is excessively idle, an epicure, a free drinker, and a notorious debauchee. With such a man, can any woman be truly happy? . . .

I hope you will lose no opportunity of writing, for, as I have frequently observed, it is the greatest pleasure I can have in your absence. Would to God we could have you among us. I never wished for you more than I do now. My Mother is quite delighted that you wish to see us.

As you do not say anything about Tom, I conclude he is well. Pray give my love to him, and tell him that Mary Smith²⁴⁵ is a pretty little black girl, and generally allowed to be more interesting than ever her sister was.

All your friends, my dear Henry, join in affectionate remembrance to you and Tom; and sincerely wishing you health and happiness, believe me to remain, dearest Henry, your truly affectionate sister,

ELEANOR.

Addressed–

Pd. 3/

Brigade-Major Smith,                   2nd Light Brigade,             Light Division,       Portugal.

Letter II. Endorsed–"19^th August, 1813. The last letter my dear Mother ever wrote to me. She died on the 12^th December, 1813, Sunday.–H. G. Smith."

Whitt^a, Aug^st 19, 1813.

MY BELOVED CHILD^N,

What words shall I find sufficiently expressive to congratulate you upon y^r great escape from the great perils and dangers you have been exposed to, where so many of y^r brave countrymen have fallen? But to God alone must the praise be given, who has preserved you both, I hope to be an ornament to y^r country and a blessing to y^r friends, and may God Almighty of his infinite mercy still hold his protecting Arm over you both, and may we never lose sight of him, and have always his goodness in our sight as never to neglect our duty for his great mercies towards us at this time and all others.

This, my dear Harry, is an anxious time, and, tho' we have not a Lett^r from you, by the Gazette we know that you are safe.

As for Tom, I think he never intends to write to eith^r of us again, but I am proud to hear of him from you as being so brave a fell^w, and hope to have Lett^rs by the next dispatches. We can make every allowance for not hearing from you at this time, as indeed you must be so much ingaged, but pray write whenever you can, and indeed it is one of my greatest comforts.

I have been very ill, so much so that I never expected seeing eith^r of you again, but with the blessing of God I am a very great deal bett^r, and with the kindness of y^r Fath^r and the attention of y^r Sis^rs I look forw^d with the hopes of seeing my beloved boys once more under their parental roof. . . .

We have been extremely healthy for a length of time that y^r Fath^r and Bro^r make great complaints some time for want of something to do.

Poor R^d Binfield is no more. He pay^d the great debt of nature about three weeks ago, after being a very great sufferer. When he was taken to be buried, his Corpse was preceeded by six Girls dressed in white with white turbans, and baskets of flowers in their hands, wh^h they throwed into the grave as soon as the Corpse was let down. The Pall was supported by six of the scho^rs in white Hat-bands, and the whole Sch^l follw^d in the same way. It altogether was a pretty sight, but rath^r too romantic, but you know the woman. . . .

Y^r Sis^r Sargant is not in very good health, and is gone to Cromer. It is upon the Norfolk coast, and is a very fashionable Bathing-place. The rest of the Family, I am happy to say, are well. As for y^r dear Fath^r, I think if you could see him you wou^d think he had grown fat. We all Unite in Love to you and Tom, with best wishes for y^r healths and prosperity. Pray write soon, and may God Almighty preserve you both is the fervent prayer of y^r affec^e Moth^r,

E. SMITH.

Eleanor desires me to say she is much oblidged to you for y^r Lett^r and will write soon, and Betsy also says that unless Tom will write to her she never will write again.

Addressed–

Letter III. Endorsed "15^th Oct. 1813. From my Father, saying my Mother was pleased with my Letter after a fight in Spain.–H. G. S."

Whittlesea, Oct^r 15^th, 1813.

MY D^R HARRY,

Your Mother receiv'd your letter the other day and myself one about a fortnight back, both of which gave us great satisfaction, particularly as you were both in good health and safe. We were in hopes as the French were so much beaten by our brave fellows, and Soult having had so good a specimen of the superior Abilities of Marshal Wellington (superior they are indeed for he is certainly the first General in the world), that he wou'd have been glad to have got hived, and not have exposed himself again to the second part of the same tune.

I was very sorry to hear of your Horse's accident, as it must be a great loss, but it was an accident and cou'd not have been prevented. My Horse I bought for you to send into Portugal has turned out very unfortunate. He has had a bad Cough on him for near a year, which continued getting worse, and I was fearful of its terminating in Glanders. Had he been quite well he was worth two hundred. However, I was under the necessity of sending Long Will to Bridge Fair, and selling him for what he wou'd fetch, which was fifteen pounds, leaving me a loser of at least £100, for I was at great expence with him

I was happy to find Capⁿ Stewart's horse turn'd out so well, but you clapt your seal over the amount and we cou'd not read it. Send me the amount when you write again. As to news I have none, for Eleanor gives you that in all her letters.

I must say I feel hurt at Tho^s not writing at all. . . . I am very proud to hear so high a character of him as an adjutant. Major Percival came from Portsmouth with Bob Hotchkin to London, and seeing an Officr in the coach in 95th uniform, he asked him if he knew Capt. Smith, and he asked him which, Henry or Tom. They had a great deal of conversation, and he said he believ'd Tom to be one of the best adjutants in the service. A poor unfortunate Cripple he was. Bob was with Gen. Murray at that noble business. He came Home extremely ill indeed of Dysentery.

I am sorry to tell you poor Mr. Moore²⁴⁶ I think is wearing up fast. He has been severely afflicted with Rheumatism. He is better of Pain, but left so weak and low that he can scarcely ride on horseback. . . .

If any one is coming home that you can trust, I wish you wou'd send me some flower seeds, but I am in great hopes you will bring them yourself.

The Allies seem to be licking the French in Germany well, and I hope will drive them into Peace.

We one and all unite in Love and affection to self and Tom, praying God to protect you both is the prayer of your affect. Father,

JN^O SMITH.

Addressed–

Letter IV. Endorsed–"14^th Dec^r, 1813. My dear Father's Letter announcing my poor Mother's Death.–H. G. S."

Whittlesea, Dec^r 14^th, 1813.

We have received, my D^r Harry, your letter dated Sante Pe, Nov^r 14^th, and it was read by myself, your D^r Mother, Brothers, and Sisters with infinite pleasure in finding you were both unhurt, and with gratitude to the Almighty for the preservation of you both in this and in every other danger you have so often been expos'd to.

But, my D^r Boys, what pain, what affliction is it to me to tell you it is the last letter your poor dear Mother will ever hear or read more from you.

You have been apprised of her ill health by your Sister Elean^r, and we did not wish to distress your feelings by repeatedly telling you the ill state of her health, for we were in hopes she might have got well again. But alas! her D^r soul quited this earthly abode on Sunday morning, Dec^r 12^th, in hopes of a joyful resurrection, which her pious, virtuous, good life entitled her to hope for in her blessed Lord and Redeemer. Oh Harry! she prayed constantly for the return and welfare of you both; she suffer'd much in anxiety; she dearly, very dearly lov'd you and adored you, and in her last prayers never lost sight of her dear Boys abroad. She died in her perfect senses even to the last moment. I hope she did not suffer very much in the separation of soul and body. . . . Your poor distrest father, Brothers and sisters all unite in the strongest love and affection for you both. God Bless you.

JN^O SMITH.

Send a proper direction. Pray write to me on the Receipt of this.

Remember, my D^r Boys, that this letter is equally addrest to you both by your very much afflicted Parent.

Addressed–

Letter V. Endorsed–"19^th Feb^ry, 1814, after my poor mother's death, from my sister Eleanor.–H. G. S."

Whittlesea, Feb^ry 19^th, 1814.

MY DEAREST HENRY,

I received your melancholy and affectionate letter on the seventeenth, and only waited to answer it until we could purchase a pair of Wild Ducks to send with it to Mr. Angelo, who has very politely offered at any time to forward our letters abroad. Heaven has indeed, my dear Brother, thought proper to lay upon us a most heavy affliction; every day proves to us the severity of our loss and the inestimable value of her who is gone. You have indeed, my poor Henry, lost your best friend. Never parent more truly loved a child than she did you. Never shall I forget her the last time she read a letter from you. When I went in, she raised her languid face from the pillow, and holding up the letter to me, said with a heavenly smile, "I am quite purely [i.e. well] to-day, my love, for I have had such a delightful cordial"–meaning your letter. I have witnessed two deaths and heard of many, but never such a one as our angel mother's. For two months before her death, she was not able to walk upstairs, but was carried up and down every day, and laid upon a sopha in the dining-room. On the 10^th of December,²⁴⁷ she was so much worse, that we requested her not to leave her bed, but she earnestly begged to be brought downstairs, and as soon as she had recovered a little from the fatigue of being dressed and removed, she told us that she felt her end approaching, and summoning my grandmama, my aunts, and all her children around her, she took a long and affectionate farewell of every one separately with as much calmness and composure as if she was only going a short journey. With my father she requested to be left alone, and continued talking with him for a considerable time. She lamented greatly that she could not see her other three boys, and wept when she left you her blessing. All the day she spent in dozing, praying, and speaking peace and comfort to her afflicted husband and children. Frequently she held up her hands to look at her poor black nails, and would often request my father and brother to feel her pulse, and begged they would tell her if it did not get lower every time. She mentioned every particular respecting the disposal of her clothes, and gave orders about being laid out and for her funeral, and turning to my father, meekly said, "If not too much expense, I should like a vault." Oh, Henry, what a day was that! To describe our feelings is impossible, but from your own on receiving the intelligence of her death, you may form some idea of ours who witnessed it. It was some consolation to us that she did not die below. She loved to be carried upstairs. My father lay by her side all night, and from her calm and comfortable slumbers was in hopes she would awaken rather better. But when she awoke, she complained of being in a little pain, which did not continue long. In about an hour after, with her hands clasped in prayer, she breathed her last. Who, who beheld such a scene as this could refrain from exclaiming, "May I die the death of the righteous, and may my last end be like hers!" The highest respect we can pay to her ever-lamented memory is to aim, my dear Henry, at her perfection, that by a virtuous life here, we may be re-united to her in Heaven. My poor Father is better than he was, but still continues to feel his loss greatly, as do we all. But the conviction of the eternal happiness of her for whom our tears flow blunts the edge of our affliction. Our loss is most assuredly her gain. It is for ourselves that we lament, and selfish indeed should we be to wish for her return. Elizabeth is my father's housekeeper, and Anna Maria and her, by their attention to him, endeavour to assuage the bitterness of his regret. Charles, by his own wish and the request of his dear departed mother, is under the tuition of my Uncle Davie, who performs to the uttermost–nay, I must say, exceeds the extent of his promise, a convincing proof of his regard for her to whom he made it. Charles neither boards nor sleeps in our house. At least, he does not breakfast or dine with us, but he always comes in at eleven for some refreshment, drinks tea, and sups with us constantly every evening, and on Sunday we have his company all day. He is a very amiable, promising youth, and I cannot speak too highly of my aunt and uncle's kindness to him, nor of his gratitude to them. Sam, by his own choice, is to be a surgeon and apothecary, and by his good talents and attention has gained the approbation of his father and brother. He is a very respectable English scholar, and might have been a good Latin one if Mr. Binfield had taught him properly, but by experience it is proved that, though Mr. B. may understand that language himself, he is incapable of teaching it to others. An opportunity has, however, presented itself for Sam learning Latin in perfection, if he will be but diligent. Mr. Pratt, our new curate, is allowed to be a classical scholar of considerable eminence, and he has promised to instruct Sam. . . . Since my father was in practice, he never had so little business as he has had for these last two years. It is the general remark, that such a healthy time or so long a continuance was never remembered. I was concerned to see your friend Captain Eeles' name in the list of wounded at the late Engagement in Holland. I sincerely hope that the war is nearly at an end, and that we may again meet, though the late melancholy change in our family will render it both a happy and painful meeting But you must be confident that you have still many friends left, who dearly love you, and believe me, no one better than myself. . . . All your friends, my dear Henry, join in affectionate remembrance to yourself and Tom, and believe me to remain if possible more than ever

Your truly affectionate Sister,

ELEANOR MOORE SMITH.

Letter VI. Endorsed–"13^th July, 1815. From my Father after Waterloo, thanking God he had three sons unhurt.–H. G. S."

Whittlesea, July 13, 1815.

MY D^R HARRY,

Never did I receive two Letters with such pleasure as your two last since the fight at Waterloo. For three of you to have been engag'd and to come off unhurt, must have been not the fate of chance, but Providence seem'd to have watch'd over you all and protected you. How grateful we all ought to be to the Almighty. I assure you my Prayers have ever been offered up to the Throne of Grace, praying for the Protection of you all, and a safe return to England. This has been one of the most glorious, and most decisive, Battles that has been fought this War. What a shocking sight to see the Gazette, it contain'd full four Columns and a half of kill'd and wounded, and amongst them so many Names I had so often heard spoke of. Poor Major Bringhurst is among the kill'd, an only Son, and his poor father almost broken hearted.

Poor Mr. Moore is at my house, broken-hearted, and a most distrest object in Health. . . .

Poor Sudbury is dead, he has been a poor creature for many Weeks. . . .

Your Mare was put to Cervantes, a Horse of L^d Fitzwilliam's; she is very well, and lying in my Wash ground with my Mare and foal, I think the handsomest I ever saw. I am sorry to hear Charles' Mare is like to have bad feet; if so, the sooner she is disposed of, the better. Tell Tom and Charles I expected to have heard from them long ago.

Give my Love to your Wife and tell her how much I felt for her, before I heard of your fate, well knowing that she must have been dreadfully alarm'd.

Your blood Mare is worth, Buckle tells me, a great deal of Money. Her Dam is dead, and they have sent to him for her to Newmarket to breed from.

Your sisters have told all the News, therefore I conclude with my Love to your Wife and Brothers join'd with all at home

I am your affect. father,

J. SMITH

Write soon.

Addressed–

Letter VII. Endorsed–"31^st Dec^r, 1816. My Father's Letter announcing the death of my good Grandmother, 83 years old.– H. G. Smith, Col."

Whittlesea, Dec^r 31^st, 1816.

MY D^R HARRY,

After a very short tho' not painful illness, your poor old Grandmother paid the last debt of nature in the 83^rd y^r of her Age. During the whole of the time she lay on her deathbed she retained her senses, and died calm and reposed, a Blessing which God grant we may all do in the same manner as she did, a Pattern of true Piety and Benevolence. The changes in our family have within these last seven y^rs been great, and one of them painful and very distressing to me, having lost that Companion whose Conduct endeared her to every one who at all knew her, and, that being the case, how much more so must I have felt her Loss! But these are trials we must all expect to meet with, and let none of us in our gay moments forget how soon the case may be our own. . . .

I find the House is to be sold, but times are so bad here now that no one has got any money to purchase, however desirable they may be. I hope if Charles and his Lady shou'd marry, they may become the Purchasers. . . .

Since the Death of poor old Jack, I have lost my Uria Mare, which I was obliged to have shot. I afterwards bought a fine big Horse five y^rs old, one I expected wou'd have proved valuable After keeping him about ten Weeks he made his exit as rotten as a Hare, so you see I am one of those unfortunate Beings in the Horse way. I must now be satisfied with my little Mare and my good old Gig Horse; when you are tired of your bay Mare, forget not she is a particular favourite of mine. . . .

Remember me most kindly to all my friends, particularly Col. Achmuty, Bell, and my old friend St. John.

Tell Charles we have not written to him as you wou'd be able to tell him every particular. I hope his Mare turns out well and that he is able to hunt her. How are all your Horses? I hope you have had good hunting; it has been very wet here, and very heavy riding. I suppose the same with you.

Give my Love to Juana, and tell her the whole of her Brothers and Sisters do also.

I remain,                                                                         
My D^r Harry,                                                 
Your affect. father,                         
JN^O SMITH.

Addressed–

Post pd.

Lieut.-Col. Smith,                          Rifle Brigade,                    Town Major,              Cambray,       France.

Letter VIII. Endorsed–"18^th March, 1822. Eleanor as to the Genealogy of my Mother's family.–H. G. S."

Whittlesey, March 18^th, 1822.

MY DEAR HARRY,

. . . You have desired me to collect for you all the information I can of the Moore family, but that is very little. My good grandfather Moore always used to say that he was descended from that great though unfortunate man Sir Thomas Moore, who was beheaded in the reign of Henry the eighth. Alice always says that she is sure we are descendants, the arms are undoubtedly the same. When my poor Mother was very young, my aunt Stona told her that she was descended from no mean family, and to prove it unfurled a genealogical table which reached half over the room, but my Mother was then so young that she never could recollect much about it. She used to say that she remembered seeing a number of Gabriel Moores. This table I am sorry to say was destroyed during the riots in London. At that time my aunt Stona lived in London and lost a great many valuable things. Our great great grandfather was the first of the Moores who lived in Whittlesey, and he was an Attorney and came out of Buckinghamshire.

. . . I must now say farewell, and with kindest love to yourself and Juana, believe me, dear Harry, to remain your truly affectionate sister,

ELEANOR MOORE SMITH.

Addressed–

[See Appendix VIII., p. 794.]

Letter IX. Endorsed–"2^nd Sep^r, reporting the death of my poor and venerable Father, 2^nd Sep. 1843, 1/4 before five o'clock in the Morning; rec^d at Cawnpore 31^st Oct^br, 1843.–H. G. S."

Whittlesea, Sep^r 2, 1843.

MY DEAREST HARRY,

. . . Our beloved father breathed his last this morning at 1/4 before 5 o'clock. . . .

About three weeks ago Charles perceived an evident alteration in his appearance. He became ill in health that week, and on Wednesday, Aug^st 16^th, he took to his bed. His poor mind was in a most distressed state and his terrors extreme. Unable to bear the suspense, Anna Maria and myself set off for Whittlesea, Saturday, Aug^st 19^th. Eleanor had come to Charles's from Northampton a few days before, and on the Monday morning as we got to W. on the Sunday Tom arrived. We found our poor father very ill, but certainly not like immediate dissolution, tho' his state was very precarious. We tried to rouse him to recollection and to soothe him, and oh, blessed be the Almighty for the mercy, we so far succeeded as to be convinced that we restored him to happiness and peace. Tho' not able to retain recollection of us for many minutes together, he was ever conscious that his children were about him; he blessed us, recognized us, asked us to pray for him, to repeat the Lord's Prayer, and one day he told us he had hope, that God was a God of mercy. He never uttered indeed two connected sentences, and he rambled incessantly, but the character of his ramblings was altered–bits of hymns, parts of the Psalms, exclamations to the Deity took the place of cries of terror, etc. He was happy–our voices reached him and soothed him, and he would reward us with a word or a look of love. He would lie in bed and amuse himself with fancied dressings of himself, talk of driving, etc., entreat to get out of bed, and would sit a few minutes in his chair. On this day week we got him out of bed, when his happiness was beautiful, but oh, the heartrending appearance he made! He was literally a skeleton; he had not an ounce of flesh on his whole body, he was a breathing death. He knew us all, smiled on each (the four daughters and Charles), dressed himself in imagination for a walk and a drive, tied his handkerchief on his neck, and when he had fidgetted away the blanket in which he was wrapt, and I put a light chair cushion in his lap, saying, "It is cold, we must pull up the apron of the gig," he smiled and said, "What fun it is!" After a little while he asked to go home; we laid him in bed and thought he was dying. It was, however, but exhaustion, and he rallied again, but he was never more so rational as this.

Oh, Harry, all my desire now was to gain something for you. I tried him, asked him if he recollected you, spoke the name "Harry" in a marked manner, and oh, Harry, you will thank me for this–at length he said, "Harry, yes, God bless him." I had touched the string. Some time after he addressed a set speech (made of broken sentences) to Col. Smith, in which he said he "thanked"–"noble deeds"–"to be praised"–and much more that could not be gathered; but this was enough, his darling son was not forgotten. He spoke much of William, always saying, "William, I am coming," and once he said, "Stop, Stona–I'll go with you." He took decided notice of Anna Maria, but he held all our hands as we sat by him, and would stroke them and take them to his cheek, and even to his lips and kiss them. When he awoke in tears and we spoke to him, it vanished and he became calm; and even when we prayed by his side, if we told him not to interrupt us, he would become quiet, seem to catch some sentences, become soothed and fall asleep. The last three days he became very ill and the pains of death racked him greatly, and it was very sad to see his sufferings. He was dying all yesterday and all the night, and oh, what an awful night we passed by his bedside! He appeared to suffer a good deal from convulsive affection of the muscles, but the strength of his constitution was really wonderful It was a hard struggle indeed for the victory. After many hours' most laboured breathing, he became gradually lower and lower, and at length with one sigh, one struggle, one effort, he breathed his last at 1/4 before 5 o'clock this morning, Sept. 2^nd, having reached the great age of 87. We mean to lay him beside our beloved mother on Wednesday afternoon. . . .

I must close my letter, praying God to bless and comfort you, and grant that hereafter we may all meet in Heaven and there form one happy family again. . . . Kind love to you both from all.

Believe me your fond sister and friend,

J. A. SARGANT.

APPENDIX III.

MEMORANDUM ADDRESSED TO SIR B. D'URBAN ON THE DIET AND TREATMENT OF SOLDIERS IN CONFINEMENT.²⁴⁸

D.Q.M. General's Office,             

Cape Castle, [2 June?] 1834.

Your Excellency having been pleased to submit for my perusal various documents relative to a scale of diet fixed by a Board of Officers, of which the Hon. Colonel Wade, now Commandant of the Garrison of Cape Town, was President, directing me to return them with any remarks which my experience of five years as Commandant of that garrison may enable me to afford, I beg to observe.

* * * * * *

There are several officers under whom I have served whose example I have ever endeavoured to imitate. The most conspicuous of them are Sir Sydney Beckwith, Sir A. Barnard, and Sir J. Colborne. The leading principle by which these officers of distinction were actuated was that of kindness to their soldiers, and an endeavour to maintain discipline by seeking out the meritorious to reward and commend rather than the guilty to punish.

For the attainment of discipline and good order two modes are to be adopted, encouragement and punishment. Towards well-disposed men, the first is always preferable; the latter, however, must be appealed to, but I have ever found great severity in punishment less calculated to maintain discipline than a mild administration of the great power Military Law vests in the hands of those in command.

In the study of my profession, to no branch of it have I paid greater attention than to the prevention of crime and to the reform of the ill-conducted, and the results of some years' experience enable me to affirm that it ought to be the duty of all officers, in the first place, to endeavour by wise and salutary regulations to render every one under their command happy. Cheerfulness is the mainspring of discipline, and the desire to reward merit while crime is held in execration, ought ever to be the delight of the officer. And although for acts of disobedience and insubordination, or neglect of duty, I would, as I have done in this garrison, inflict corporal punishment to the utmost of my power, not only to punish the offender, but to strike terror into the hearts of the spectators in the ranks, for more moderate crimes, to see a fellow creature, a comrade, dragging on a miserable existence from week to week, nay, month to month, in a solitary cell, or expected to be capable of daily labour and occasionally to attend drills on bread, rice, and water, his bed a watchcoat, affording no public example, is a species of protracted cruelty I am as yet not prepared to inflict.

Confinement or the loss of liberty for a long period is in my mind, under the most modified circumstances, a punishment severe indeed. During the period I was Commandant, I made it a point to visit the prisoners (whenever there were any) every Sunday, and the surgeon of the week did the same during the week. I had written me a report to that effect. My object was to see that they were in every respect as clean as the meritorious soldier at duty, to ascertain that their rations had been according to the scale hung up with my signature in their cells, duly furnished them, and of a good quality, and by conversation with them and pointing out the impropriety of their conduct to ascertain their character. Many sentenced for a long period I have taught to read and write; in the case of others, what little knowledge they possessed I have improved by lending them books, etc., and in the proportion of ninety-nine in a hundred has my kindness been attended by the most beneficial results. Some whose conduct in prison was particularly good, and whose previous character was not heinous, I have remitted several weeks' confinement, ordering them to report to me every Sunday, "My conduct has been good." In no individual instance, to the best of my recollection, has this leniency been abused, and I will mention that in no garrison in His Majesty's dominions was heinous crime less frequent than in the garrison of Cape Town whilst under my command.

No man is so degraded as not to be susceptible of kindness, and no man so much requires a friend as he who has none even in himself. Many is the vicious character I have reformed as captain of a company by conduct of this sort, re-establishing a man in his own good opinion and in that of his comrades. The want of a point d'appui in distress has been the ruin of many an individual, both civil and military, and in my estimation the morale amongst the soldiers tends far more to attain discipline and happiness than the severe administration of rigid justice. There are many of my brother officers, I am aware, who differ very materially with me in this opinion, but, as practise makes [perfect], I maintain that my system is the best, which, when combined with a vigour of action in all military points, excites emulation in both officers and soldiers and induces them to look up to their commander as their friend.

* * * * * *

The Royal Warrant now provides the sum of sixpence per diem for the maintenance of prisoners without any reference to "bread and water," to ensure them being furnished with wholesome and sufficient food. I cannot, therefore, for a moment conceive that reflection would put a construction upon my prison-regulations as positively contrary to the Royal Warrant.

Not only by inclination and predilection am I in all military acts guided by the practice in the Light Division of the Duke's army, but [in this case] by Lord Hill's circular letter bearing date 24th June, 1830.

My reasons, therefore, for submitting the scale of provisions I drew up to the approval of Sir Lowry were–

(1) The practice in the Duke of Wellington's army.

(2) The practice of the Light Division, ever construing all orders and regulations to the benefit of the soldier.

(3) The Royal Warrant.

Although I very much differ in opinion from the Board as to the scale they have fixed, I approve very highly of a distinction being made between the diet of prisoners sentenced for long and short periods.

H. G. SMITH.

APPENDIX IV.

EXTRACTS FROM HARRY SMITH'S LETTERS TO HIS WIFE DURING THE KAFIR WAR, 1835.

Grahamstown, 30th Jan. 1835.

The Kafirs, from the manner in which I occupied all the passes in their rear, had been beautifully harassed, and now fly from the sight of one of our people as rapidly as they flew towards him until I stirred them up a little in their own country. So you recommend shrapnel, grape, howitzers, shells! Well done! We will take your advice: for old Johnstone ²⁴⁹ says true, you are the best general he knows. I am sadly off for officers and assistants in my office. Selkirk Stewart would be to me worth all the clerks in my office, and old Johnstone all the officers I have in the field, Cox excepted. The quantity I have to write and to do is really incredible, and you know how quick I can get through my work. The people here are astonished. But I have eased my labours very much by establishing boards of gentlemen of the place and officers, one of clergymen for the destitute families, one to receive the claims of all persons whose property has been seized for military purposes, one to inquire into the burgher force, a clothing board for the burghers, a labour heretofore beyond even me. All these boards submit their proceedings to me. I approve or disapprove, and act as supreme. Even thus, much of my time is occupied; but it has reduced my labours much.

Bivouac between Fish and Keiskamma rivers,
close to Mount Somerset, 13th Feb.

Viva Enrique!

MI QUERIDISSIMA MUGER,²⁵⁰

I have been in the field since Saturday last, sleeping in the bush, never better. Was on horseback yesterday 28 hours, attacked the Kafirs in five points like fun, gave them a good licking with a trifling loss on our parts; seventy-three killed, counted on the field, lots of wounded. Took 2500 head of cattle, goats, sheep, etc.; gave them some of your shrapnel shells, but want a few of my old Riflemen, although all my fellows are willing enough and full of fight. Do not be afraid of Enrique. He takes good care of himself, and never moves without 30 Cape Rifles as an escort.

A shocking accident occurred the night before last. The 72nd and other troops lay in position waiting for daylight to attack; though every precaution was taken and there was no fault, some one cried out, "The Kafirs!" and the men jumped up and fired on each other before the officers could speak. Three men were killed, and more desperately wounded. This rather hindered my operations, because it alarmed the enemy. However, thank God, I have done as much as I expected.

You cannot think how well I am. Nothing fatigues me, and although my force is only 1200 men and 800 horses with four guns, yet my operations are over an extent of 4000 square miles of country. We were marching from 7 o'clock the 11th till 8 o'clock the 12th. No one tired. This morning we want nothing but some grog, which I momentarily expect. God bless you, old woman, and do not be afraid. Our God will take care of us both. Adios, alma mia.

ENRIQUE.

Grahamstown, 26th and 27th Feb. 1835.

My Fish River trip was a very lucky one, and has had a great effect on all the Kafirs. It is reported and believed that they are all flying into Hintza's country. He is a very powerful chief who has been wavering in his policy towards us. He is, I believe, at the bottom friendly, although he wishes to keep as much of the stolen cattle as he possibly can. It is decided that the 75th Regt. remain on the usual frontier line, and that the 72nd all go into Kafirland. The former are as much mortified as the latter are delighted. To-day I go to Hermanus Kraal, next day near to Fort Willshire to select a camp for our invading force to assemble on. We are to select the most effective men of the Burgher force, and send the remainder to the second line. The Chief is now all for invasion. Paddy Balfour will be my A.D.C.

I should like you to see me with my escort, a trumpeter, a sergeant, two corporals, and six fine fellows of the Cape Corps, five led horses, Guides (a corps all well mounted), etc., and generally five or six smart young fellows of volunteers; but I would give all the pomp and glory of war for one quiet evening with mi vida at Charlie's Hope,²⁵¹ though I am now writing by a nice little wood fire, as comfortable as can be when away from my beautiful wife. You are in no danger, alma mia, of being supplanted here. This is the most dull, stupid, and horrid place on earth, celebrated for the most ugly of the fair sex.

I have just been to inspect three detachments of Burghers. I will give you a detail. One consists of 62 fighting men and horses, 50 non-combatants, 28 waggons. Another of 118 fighting men and horses, 80 non-combatants, 36 waggons. Only conceive what an army, and every individual wants something, either shoes, shirts, bridle, saddle. It is perfectly ridiculous, but yet when the poor fellows thus dragged from their homes are in the field, they are good-humoured and willing and shoot well enough. Oh! my old woman, glory is a fine thing, domestic quiet is better. It was well enough when I was at the head, but now second fiddle is slow. I am lazy and forget when things do not fly like lightning.

All our own country is free from Kafirs, much more so than in times of actual peace; still every post the postmaster comes to me for escorts. To-day I blew him up and called him an ass. The panic with which the people were seized here will not wear off for years. Had twenty Kafirs shown themselves in the neighbourhood of Grahamstown a day or two before my arrival, all would have either run away or shot one another. What amuses me much just now, is that those who funked the most formerly are the most valiant now that the danger is dispelled.

In two months I will, with God's blessing, be with my dear old wife to talk over my labours, which Heaven knows have been heavy enough. I have gained credit for two things–one, licking the Kafirs; another, blowing up the lazy idle rascals who will neither work, fight, nor do anything but draw rations.

So you are a schoolmistress? Mind teach the young ones to sew and work. It will do them more good than to read and write.

Love to all, and the sum total of all my love, affection, regard, esteem, everything that is dear, to you, alma mia.

ENRIQUE.

5 o'clock, 27 Feb.

When once I am in the field, I will work in my own way. Master is always floundering in the midst of information, whilst I like to take a look at the ground, march, and take possession. Thank God, I have been heretofore very lucky indeed. Do you recollect poor Thompson saying, when the ants were swarming in the house, "Oh, sir, it is great luck, great promotion for you somewhere"? It is very ridiculous, but I often think of it.

I long to march, although I well see I shall have all the trouble of war and marches without the all-stirring spirit of War. Ah, Venus and Mars! Enough of the latter. I begin to think a quiet life of Darby and Joan very agreeable. The fact is, it is better fun to be together as heretofore: only this is such a naked country. At Genadendal there was one pair of breeks between three boys, but here neither boys nor girls nor women have breeks or sarks either.

I have been writing all day, still it is with much delight I keep on writing to you, alma mia . . .

God bless my dearest virtuous wife.

ENRIQUE.

Grahamstown, 6th March, 1835.

Thank God, my dearest old woman, you are well . . . Tomorrow the troops commence their march upon the base of our future operations between Fort Willshire and the Block Drift or the line of the Chumie, which runs into the Keiskamma near the Fort. I went up there last Saturday and had a beautiful ride of three days, doing everything I had to do and returning a day and a half sooner than I was expected. It is really wonderful how I bear work. I spread my karosse and lie down with my saddlebags under my head, and after thanking my God and blessing my dear old woman, am asleep in a moment. The bivouac we are going to is really one of the most beautiful things I ever saw, and, thanks to the late rains, the grass everywhere is up to the horses' fetlocks. To-morrow I start with my escort–my corps of Guides, my led horses, my interpreters, my secretaries. How you would laugh to see such a motley group!

So I am to take care they do not shoot at me from the Bush? That story about old Jem ²⁵² and me was founded on very little truth. In the middle of my Fish River fight, just as Jem was cooking some coffee and I was writing, when we were surrounded by soldiers, three shots were fired at the whole. I certainly jumped up and rattled the impudent rascals "out of that" pretty quick; but, old girl, I am too much of a Rifleman to be caught napping without every precaution of war. But they do put such trash in the papers occasionally, it is quite amusing.

Camp near Fort Willshire, 12th March.

I wish you could see me, because then, you know, I could see you. It is very delightful to unbend and not act always the great man, although I assure you we laugh in camp sometimes famously. I almost kill Hallifax at some of my roar-outs to the soldiers. Yesterday morning, just before daylight in Fort Willshire, I desired his bugler to blow the "rouse," which you well remember. He said he did not know it. "D— you, sir, blow something." So he blew up a quadrille, and I began to dance. I thought Hallifax would have laughed till he died. What a burlesque upon our school of war!

Grahamstown, 16th March, 1835.

When I came flying down from Fort Willshire the other day it was, as you may suppose, for the purpose of inducing my master to get under weigh and not to mind a Kafir and a half, which Col. Somerset's arrangements with nearly 3000 men were going to catch. Master and I very nearly fell out. In his string of operations in last week's paper, signed by Kitty Dutton, my attack on the enemy's position was left out. After some little jaw, he said he thought it too bold a thing to attempt with the force under my command, so I bristled up and said, "Rely upon it, whenever I hear of a Kafir, so soon will I be at him with whatever force I can collect. This is the way to treat so contemptible an enemy, although too much caution cannot be adopted to prevent a surprise, or too much activity used in following up any advantage obtained. This, sir, is my maxim, and one which shall guide me throughout the campaign." "Oh, it is a very proper feeling, but discretion is also to be observed."

I have at last spurred him into a move, and I hope we shall get on and bring things to a close, for I am really tired of this slow work. I want to be at Charlie's Hope again.

17th March.

The 72nd Regiment marched yesterday for the camp at Fort Willshire, and the whole of the troops will be in motion, I hope, to-morrow to concentrate. Sir Benjamin has given out a General Order appointing me to command the 1st Division.

1st Division: 100 of the Cape Corps, 40 Corps of Guides, two 6-pounders, 300 Swellendam Burghers, the whole of the 72nd Regiment, the 1st Provisional Battalion of Hottentots, 430 strong. Officered by H. Peddie.

2nd Division, 2 guns, 750 Burghers, 200 Cape Corps, Lieut.-Col. Somerset.

3rd Division: 250 Burghers, 50 Cape Corps, two 3-pounders, 2nd Provisional Battalion, 374 strong (an excellent body of men), Major Cox.

4th Division: 500 Burghers, Field Commandant Van Wyk.

The troops will thus advance–

Left	Left-Centre.	Centre.	Right.
Van Wyk.	Major Cox.	Me myself and Sir Slow as far as he goes.	Col. Somerset.

Lieut.-Col. England is to command the ordinary Frontier Posts and Grahamstown and has 1800 men, just 100 more than I had when I took the command here, re-established villages and posts which had been so shamefully abandoned, and invaded Kafirland with 450 men, so that I think the end line may be considered safe and no necessity for any panic. But really it is astonishing to see how they funk.

His Excellency has just sent for me, good old man, to say he is not pleased with his General Order of yesterday appointing me to the command of the Division. He says it cramps my power, so he has put in orders that I am to be second in command, continuing my duties as Chief of the Staff, by which means I can order everybody about like himself. It also gives old Peddie a command, which I am very glad of.

18th March.

In this stupid little room in which I am writing, I think rather too much of an old faithful woman at Charlie's Hope, but as I hope soon to lick Tyalie, I hope soon to be with her. But my hair has grown grey. I think, if it progresses as heretofore, I shall have a white top altogether. Not quite so bad as that either! But it is grey. Oh, I should like at this moment to ride into the dear little square! I can hear your voice when I left you on the 1st January, as plainly as possible. Do you recollect the glove in the hackney coach in London? ²⁵³ And so it will be again, alma mia!

20th March, 8 o'clock.

Don't be jealous, but my landlady has just sent me a present of half a dozen of champagne and two stone bottles of curaçoa, rather a treat to me the latter. The former I will astonish somebody or other with in the bivouac. Fine campaigning this, is it not?

I have just packed my leave-behind box and remaining papers, got a canteen of brandy for Paddy Balfour and myself, and ten pounds of tobacco for my escort, filled the two bags you made with tea and sugar, put up my knife, fork, and spoon, and thirteen plates into a leather letter-bag. The tea-kettle is tied to my saddle-bags. We make carbonada on a forked stick, oh, so good it is! quite different to what it is when done in a frying-pan: you then stick the one end of the stick in the ground, whilst the hot meat hisses in your face as you recline on your karosse à la Turque. Very fine. But the old round table at Charlie's Hope would do as well!

I really am capitally equipped, and if you were like me, young, I should like to have you with me. God knows but it will be cold before we get back. This Grahamstown itself is the coldest place in Africa. The moment you are five miles from it, the climate is much milder. Not a tree near it, scarcely a bush, and such bleak cold-looking hills you cannot conceive, as cold as the Pyrenees–where you rather roughed it than otherwise in the old paved tent. Do you remember when old Billy Mein, 52nd, used to come and drink with me grog made of very bad rum? We were not so nice then as to have brandy.

I have desired you have a Grahamstown journal sent you, and I beg you not to believe more than one-half of the alarming lies that will be published in it. This place ought to be called "Necessity," for it is the mother of invention.

Adios, alma mia di mi corazon. You have a good long letter this time.

ENRIQUE.

Camp near Willshire, 25th March.

Up at four; sing out to cook for coffee; "Minni" (sergeant of the escort), "feed horses"; "Japps, rouse up the escort"; "Up saddle, camp." Marched as soon as light into a nice bivouac. I have a most beautiful bush, and a still better one for His Excellency, and one between us both for Kittie. Capital breakfast; cows give lots of milk. Secretaries all at work building me a hut. Twenty men on fatigue building one for His Excellency, who has not yet arrived.

Nine o'clock. "Escort, up saddle"; "Japps, order Pompey for me and Minni's horse for Captain Jervis. We are going to look for a new line of road." Return to camp at one, having chalked out my road and sent a hundred men with Jervis to repair it. Report of five Kafirs prowling about the camp. Their spoor discovered back over the Keiskamma. Learn that His Excellency is not to leave Grahamstown for a day or two. Much mortified; I have built him a noble hut. Have a most capital hut myself, just completed, and wish una vieja muger que se llama Juana was within it.

Just received a report that some cattle are seen on the other side of the river. "Japps! a horse and my escort." "Ah, ah, sir!" Up saddle and off.

Just come back. I fancy I see some, and send out a patrol of 50 men under Field-Commandant Lindé, Swellendam Burghers. The finest old fellow upwards of 70 I ever saw, except my poor old Padre. Just such a game old fellow as he is. Order dinner. Bruintjes (you must be acquainted with him); Painter and Minni you know; all these are occasionally called in my delicate voice. Our conversation is now beginning. "Well, Bruintjes, what's for dinner?" "Some skin beef I can for soup mak." ("Don't make such a jaw, men; I can't hear what my cook says.") "Some pampoose too, sar, what master bring from Kafirland. Leetle onion, sar; a leg mutton for rost, sar; some bock what left yesterday, sar, what the Boers send master for hash; dat plenty, sar." "Yes, by G—d, plenty, Bruintjes. Well, good fellow, mind, coffee ready directly after dinner, then you shall have your grog. Keep me waiting, no grog. Japps, what the devil are those loose horses doing here about my hut?" Japps, in a voice something between thunder and the croak of a frog, roars out, "Heigh, you d–d Boers! You take way your horse from Coronel." The prospect of a good dinner makes me think I am dirty. "Painter, lay out my dressing things, lots of water, and a clean shirt." A glorious splash, the water as cool as possible, the day not being so hot as yesterday. I think in a day or so it may rain. All the better for our grass. The cow-boy, "Black Jim." "Well, Jim, what do you want?" "Kraal to be made for master's cows." "Very well, Jim; but make a kraal for the calves too." "Yah, Mynheer." "Or no grog." "Yah, Mynheer." "Now, be off."

"Field-Commandant Dreyer wishes to speak with you, sir," says the orderly sergeant. "Well, Dreyer, why the devil won't you come in? What a ceremonious humbug!" "Coronel was busy write." "Oh, you be d–d, and come in sit. Well, vaar is the Kafir?" "I canno say, meinheer. Coronel must loup into Kafirland." "How can I, Dreyer? I must wait for the Governor." "Well, where is the Governor? He must come: my mans is tired for 'nix mak.'"²⁵⁴ "Can't help it, Dreyer."

"Well, Sandford, what do you want? Paddie Balfour, and be whipped to you, don't make such a noise. Japps, send this order to Commandants Lindé and Dreyer." "Yas, sar."

Sandford. "Colonel, I want an escort for empty waggons to Grahamstown." "How many?" "Twenty-two." "By Heavens, we shall eat up all our stores, lying idling here: I will order an escort. Let them make haste back, and lots of rice and spirits, mind." "We are getting very short of beef too, sir." "Damnation, I hear nothing but bad news. Orderly, tell Greyling and Nel" (two capital Boers) "to come to me immediately. I will get meat, Sandford. Any more bad news?" "No, sir, plenty of stores as yet." "Well, Ford, did you bleed them?" "No, the camp is very healthy, and the wounded at Fort Willshire are all doing well." "Send for Adair. Order an escort for Sandford's waggons. Ford, come and dine with me, and be off now, I am busy. Well, Greyling and Nel, where are the bullocks and sheep?" "I know no tings, sar." "The devil you don't. Be off both of you immediately beyond Fort Beaufort. Bring me 40,000 sheep." "Nay, Mynheer." "Well, go and bring me as many bullocks and sheep as I shall give you an order for, when I and the commissary have made our calculations. Here, Andrews" (the Dutch secretary), "make out passports and authorities for all persons to aid and assist Greyling and Nel to go to Beaufort for sheep. Well, sir, what do you want?" (A great fat stupid-looking Boer standing at the hut door.) "Mynheer, mi vrouw—" "Andrews, what the devil does he want?" "To go home, sir, or to have his gun mended." "No, sir" (in a very low voice); "I want to go to my vrouw, but by G–d I can't." "No more shall you. Go to your camp, and be ready to shoot Kafirs. Here, bugler, sound the grog-horn." Then such a hurrah! "Almost dinner-time, Painter?" "No, sir, only five." "You are wrong." "No, sir, I am right." "You, sir, why do you contradict me? It is six by my appetite. Well, Hallifax, what is going on in Fort Willshire?" "Fort Harry, sir, will be finished in a day or two." (A little post he has established as a look-out, and named after me.²⁵⁵) "Wounded doing well." "Are you going to stay and dine?" "With great pleasure." "Southey" (Captain of Guides), "let this way-post be sent to Captain Jervis, who knows where to place it at the turn-off of the new road." "Well, Bagot, what is it?" (He commands a battalion of Hottentots.) "Shall I post any additional sentries to-night?" "Why?" "Five Kafirs were about the camp." "I care not a — if 5000 were around my camp. I will post my own picquets, ah! and sentries too–or vedettes, as I call them; ah! and take good care of our camp too. Five Kafirs shan't take us, be assured."

Well, old woman, this is a little specimen of one of my days in camp; so that you may readily conceive what a holiday a ride is. But all this is good fun enough, compared to the quill-driving in Grahamstown.

* * * * * *

What shall I do to-morrow? Think of old Juana. Yes, because I do nothing else, I believe; although all the fellows wonder what the devil I am made of. I am here, there, and everywhere. No party do I ever send out but in two seconds I am amongst them; when they look grave I sing (beautifully, as you know), and the Boers laugh at my gaiety beyond everything. A young, big, fat Dutchman has just come to my tent door, saying that he has no blanket, and that it is very wet. What is he to do? "Go to the devil, and warm yourself, you spoony. Make a fire, sir, and sing over it. I have given you grog. Why, I never had a blanket campaigning for ten years. You want pluck, sir. Be off." This is the way I go on almost day and night.

Night scene. "Hallo, sentry." "Sir." "What the devil are the dogs making such a noise about?" "Don't know, sir; they always make a noise." "Are the horses right?" "Yes, sir." "What horse is that, biting himself so?" "That horse is master's old horse, what carries the canteen." Then sleep. In an hour, "What horses are those I hear moving?" "Some escort with letters for Coronel." Out with a lucifer: light candles. Sometimes the letters are worthy a candle, oftener cock-and-bull stories. Lie down and sleep again. "Sentry, near daylight?" "No, sir, moon." "I wish the dogs were at the devil." "Make too plenty noise, sir." Sleep. Soon after, awake, look at my watch. "Hallo, bugler, blow the rouse; Japps, feed; Bruintjes, coffee. Painter!" "Coming, sir!" "Where are the straps to my trousers?" "Under your 'ead, sir." "Why, what an ass you are! Leave them in my boots. You, Jim, where's the milk?" "Here, Mynheer." "Balfour, where are you?" "Coming, sir." "Why, the shadow in your tent makes you look like the knave of clubs." . . .

Adios, hija. Tu fiel, fiel,

ENRIQUE.

Camp on the Debe Flats,
8 o'clock on the night of the 1st April, Tom Fool's Day.

We are now pretty well collected, and Master is quite ready for anything. He is really a perfect soldier in the field, and to hear him laugh when I blow up the fellows in Dutch (that is, my Dutch)! But his delight is to dine and breakfast with me, particularly the latter. Our breakfast to-day was really perfection.

I have some excellent guides to all the passes in the ridge of hills which we are going to stir up to look for cattle. This Kafir war is nothing else than that. Read of Walter Scott's Borderers, and you will learn what Kafir warfare is:

"He would ride A foray on the Scottish side."

It is just that. You gallop in, and half by force, half by stratagem, pounce upon them wherever you can find them; frighten their wives, burn their homes, lift their cattle, and return home quite triumphant.

4th April.

Last night at eight o'clock, on our return from a march of twenty-two hours, I received your dear letter. Yesterday I roared myself into one of my Vittoria lost voices,²⁵⁶ and to-day I am whispering and swearing exclusively for my own amusement, for no one hears me. Old Doyle says I am still in advance in the talking way, and could afford a year's silence at least. Murray is sitting with me; he is my great friend. Your description of your robbery and the "cuchillo"²⁵⁷ is highly amusing. I ought to publish it in this army, and show what a Spanish woman dare, for, by heavens! here I have some arrant cowards. The Boers of the old Commandos talk of the glories of former times, when the Kafirs had only assagais. But now that they have a few guns, which they use very badly, Mynheer funks. There are, however, some very fine fellows amongst them.

Quite delighted to hear of the "Green Jacket" getting on the windows. We want very much some "Green Jackets"²⁵⁸ here, for this warfare has all–nay! more than all–the fatigue of any other without the real excitement of war. Oh! the noise of the devils of captured cattle. Above a thousand head of cows and calves are now roaring in our ears.

Headquarters, Camp on the Debe, 5th April, 1835.

Our Hottentots are the most willing fellows possible. I call them my children, and all their little complaints, wants, and grievances they lay before me, which I listen to most patiently, for I exact a deal of work from them. . . . I will send off a warning order to the troops to march to-morrow at daylight. I always like to give the fellows all the warning I can. Arrangements, as His old Excellency calls them, are leather and prunella; for though he writes them beautifully, and in the most military and technical terms, there is not a soul in this camp who understands what he means; so that the pith of the matter is contained in the words, "March at daylight to-morrow, Monday, the 6th instant, commissariat and other waggons following column." There it is, and all hands understand that it takes just two hours for our commissariat train to arrive, from the moving off of the first waggon to the arrival of the last, when the road is good. You may, therefore, General Juana, conceive what it must be when there is any serious obstacle to pass. It is really quite ridiculous to see the proportion of soldiers to the waggons; for when stretched out on the road, each with eight bullocks, it looks as if each soldier had one waggon at least. You, General Juana, accustomed only to regular armies (except a few guerrillas or so), would laugh to see our motley group, with every costume of a mean kind which can be imagined,–the Boer with his old white slouch hat, his long gun, his miserable saddle and bridle; the Hottentots with a little low-crowned hat, black jacket and trousers; the 72nd's men with crackers,²⁵⁹ their pipeclayed belts left behind, and a little ordinary pouch substituted for the large one, wearing a forage cap with a large red leather peak, which makes every man look exactly as if he had sore eyes; old Dutton strutting about the camp in the paraphernalia of a Kafir chieftain's wife.

Camp on the Buffalo, daylight or nearly so,
Friday, 10th April, 1835.

The Third Division, under Jem Cox, and the Fourth Division are going to remain here to hunt the rebel chiefs, while the First and Second and Headquarters go on to Hintza to bring back the captured cattle. I hope twelve days may see us back here again.

Bivouac on the Gunga Rivulet, six miles from the
Gonoube River, 4 p.m., 11th April, 1835.

I am writing on my knees, the table not having arrived in the waggon just yet, in a most beautiful bivouac on the banks of a woody streamlet with beautiful water, and grass up to the knees. We have marched twenty miles from the Buffalo upon the main road into Kafirland over very open country without seeing anything but some Kafir cranes, two khorans, and three partridges. Lots of kraals, but all have been deserted for some time.

I am half afraid Master is only to go to the Gonoube to-morrow–six miles–and halt the next day. Such slow work is quite dreadful. Last night I had a regular fight with him. He funked dividing the army–nay, actually gave it up for all I could say or do. I was perfectly mortified. However, in the middle of the night he changed his mind, and I had it all my own way. He is far too scientific for this guerrilla warfare, always full of combinations and reserves, and rears, and fronts, and cautions and dangers, and false movements, and doubts and fears. The greatest fault one can be guilty of is dash. Yet it is the thing, and there is nothing to fear.

I wish you were with me just now. The tent is all pitched, my table up, the rushes laid down, all my clothes put inside (as it looks as if a heavy dew were going to fall), a large heap of beautiful dry wood laid ready to light at daylight. The soup has been on at least two hours. Our dinner, I hope, will be good, for me most certainly, for all I care about is soup with rice, and I eat such a lot, about five times as much as when with my dear old woman. We get also a lot of beautiful pumpkins from the Kafirs' gardens, which help the soup, and we boil it with our rice. To-day, had there been time, we should have had a hare, which one of the men brought me yesterday; which I ordered to be stewed with rice and a piece of ham (Viva Espana!). But then we ought to have had un poco de aceyte y una cabeza de ajos.²⁶⁰ . . . I wonder how I write Spanish. Do you understand it or not? I get on just as fast with it as English, anyhow; and if you do not understand 'tis you who have forgot your own language, and not I how to write it.

6 o'clock, evening. 12th.

No ladies or any cattle brought in to-day, but I think we are running the whole population to earth on the Kei. There are great marks or spoors of innumerable cattle having been driven towards it. This should be our boundary. It is as bare of wood as the fens in my country, or even your country, scarcely covert for a hare, much less for the wily Kafir, whom I look upon just as a wild beast and try to hunt him as such. I little thought that the pains I took to make a huntsman of myself would hereafter befit me for a general of renown in Kafir warfare. But so it is. "Right ahead" and a "forward cast" will soon ensure you "Woo-hoop," or as you call it "Oo-oop." (Don't "queeze" me, it is very "estraordinary," you always do so.)

I hope that you may hear from me every week. I do my best to ensure it, and as yet I trust you have not been disappointed. If you are, be assured it cannot be helped. The distance is so enormous, and the odd devils we have to send as escorts with the mails do not, like regular soldiers, enable one to say that it will arrive on such an hour on such a day. The Hottentots are to be trusted, poor fellows; but the Boers are too fond of sleeping. Although I get on famously with them, I have no particular opinion of their pluck, and always have about me my twelve men with double-barrelled guns, my escort, with old Japps, whose very holloa! would frighten a Kafir if his shot did not. Twelve more plucky fellows I never saw, and they watch me like hawks. If I move, they are after me and all round me, and every night mount sentry over me. If I whisper, Japps hears me. My bugler is no great hand as a musician, but the gamest fellow I ever saw (I am my own trumpeter, n'est-ce pas, ma femme?); but all our fighting is now over. It is quite an affair of Smithfield Market now, or will be in a few days.

Daylight on the 13th April.

We were all ready to march, when Master sent for me, and because Somerset's division is not up yet, has ordered a halt. I remonstrated, but it was of no use. He became touchy, talked of principal combination, military errors, etc. So I dropped the matter, as I always find it best to do at the moment, and renew it hereafter. Upon the whole, we are doing very well, but I fear he does not think so. He has been disappointed in not fighting a general action; which is a thing as likely to occur as that, if such were the case, the Kafirs would beat us.

They are in terrible dismay. Last night (for always two or three of them creep near us), the wind being favourable and the night very still, my Kafir guide sitting by the fire distinctly heard one call to another, "Ah, ah, the troops are come, and we shall be all killed." In my tent I heard their howl. I will indulge in another wash, although it cannot wash away the stain of this day's delay.

A nice cool morning, and I hope the day may be so too, for we have no shade. Not that I care about it; my hands are as black as my face, and that is the colour of dear little Moira's nozzle, and my head about as gray as her nose. A big Dutchman just put me in half a rage. He came for a bullock skin. I gave him the order on the commissary, and the brute said he did not know where or who the commissary was. Now surely it was right to blow up such a fellow? I have improved in my Dutch wonderfully, almost as much as your dear Spanish figure has progressed towards the Dutch.

This lost day is a bore. I shall be tired of it all soon. Indeed, the little excitement there was in the warfare has subsided, now that we have no enemy and I cannot make my little patrols. I have no ambition to be a Smithfield Market drover. We will make Hintza's Kafirs drive our cattle back, and guard it too. As I have before told you, it is wonderful how these devils can make the cattle go, when they are ever so tired. I feel delay more than ever, but a light heart (which thank God I possess) keeps me the most lively fellow in the camp. All the fellows in camp rejoice in me, thank God, and the soldiers would go to the devil for me. I feed them well. Two of the wounded fellows passed me yesterday, those with assagai wounds who had been with Murray. "Well, my boys, how are you?" "Oh, quite well, sir." "Ah, it is me who gets you into such scrapes." "We will soon be ready to fight under your honour again with all our hearts and souls."

Halting-day, 13th April (continued).

We are just going to take a ride–Master, me, and escort–upon the road to the Kei, with some of our guides. And then such questions as he will ask these fellows, who are as ignorant of what he wants to come at as possible–the name of this hill and the other, the source of this river, and that t'yaron, sometimes with impatience. But the dear old gentleman sets down all this to the credit of science and information, and thinks my guerrilla ideas are far too wild. To-day he said, "In your view of the case there is no combination. All is trusted to a blind succession of chances." So I bristled up and said, "General, war in itself is a succession of chances, like all other games. But science must be its basis, and the great science of war is to adapt its principles to the enemy you have to contend with and the nature of the country. If you do not, you give him so many chances of the game." This rather posed him. "Oh, certainly, I do not deny that. On the contrary, I agree with it." I did not like to push him any further, for the great danger I have to avoid is that of assuming towards him a dictatorial manner; and God knows my manner is brusque enough, soften it down as I will. I am obliged sometimes to speak out; but I do so with every endeavour to avoid hurting his feelings.

14th April, 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

Just arrived from a march. We have taken a Fingo, a Kafir of an inferior order, who has given us very important information. He states that Hintza has all the Colonial cattle collected and ready to restore to us, and that he is within two days' march of us at his residence near the missionary station of Butterworth. I ought to have told you where we are: which is, as the crow flies, within six miles of the Kei, but twelve miles by the waggon road. The bed of the river is very evident, and the country now most beautiful again, intersected with ravines on a minor scale like those of the Pyrenees, beautifully studded with gardens, and with pumpkins innumerable.

15 April, 4 o'clock in the morning.

Just received a beautiful letter from Master, which put me in great alarm–full of very military reasons why our march to-day should be delayed, and begging me to come to him that we might discuss it. So off I started from my barrack-sheets and karosse, and after a little preamble I found him much more easily turned into my path than I expected. So we start to-day at seven. The enemy is so disheartened now, that I think if you were here with your female attendants and that large knife, with a red cloak on, the sable foe would fly before you.

"Now, Paddy Balfour, you ugly beast with your moustaches, pour out the coffee, and be d—d to you."

"Battle over, sleep in clover;
Who so happy as we in camp?"

I am in great spirits this morning at having overcome the delay. "Up saddle."

6 o'clock, 15th April.

This day has turned out much more auspicious than my utmost desire anticipated. I told you in the morning I was in high spirits, because Master consented to march down to the Kei. So I took care to be long before my time on horseback at his tent, with the advanced guard and my escort. He said with his usual politeness, "Pray, do not wait for me, Smith. Go on." The hint was quite enough. It was all I wanted, and off I set in as fast a shuffle as I could keep the cavalry horses in, down to the river (about 11 miles). We could observe the tops of the hills (almost mountains) on the other side covered with Kafirs. The more there were, the more I pushed on. On my arrival at the ford, I was challenged from the opposite side by "Hallo, English, do you know what river this is? This is Hintza's country. What do you want here?" I halted my troops, and made my Kafir desire one of them to lay down his arms and to come down to the river to speak to me. They were dreadfully frightened, but at last one laid down his assagai and by degrees in about an hour approached my Kafir. I told him to say that we were come to make Hintza give an answer to our former demand; that we would enter their country for the present as friends. All depended upon themselves and Hintza whether or not we were afterwards enemies.

During our conference we were joined by His Excellency, who highly approved of what I was doing. I went close to our side of the river–my Kafir sitting in the middle, Hintza's Kafir on the opposite side–and had a long jaw,²⁶¹ which ended in our entering Hintza's country for the moment as friends, and sending off for him. But no Kafir was to come near us with an assagai The Kafir was a clever fellow, and wanted me to name a place to meet Hintza. I told him Hintza should have been on the river to meet the Governor, and we should march on until Hintza came. His Excellency was satisfied, so I said, "Now, sir, let us cross immediately." He was full of two or three little doubts, fears, military precautions, when I could stand it no longer, and roared out, "Mount!" "Now, General," I said, "I will cross, and you will see every fellow fly before me. Then pray send the whole army on."

It was as I said. The fellow with whom I had the parley came up to me on my ascent from the river and told me he would desire the people to keep out of my way and would lead me wherever I might like to go. He is a most civil, athletic savage, 6 feet 3 inches high. He is now sitting with me, having eaten half a sheep, and his manner is really very fine. He liked my gingered tea exceedingly, but could not bear brandy. We have just had a visit from three of Hintza's councillors. He himself is in the upper country. We have told them what I have before stated, and they are to send off for their king immediately. They promised fairly, and seemed terribly frightened when we threatened them with Fakoo in their rear.

I can talk Kafir wonderfully–Asapa, "come here"; A Bāmbā, "good-bye"; Ekwee, "yes". Now that is a great deal to learn in one day, besides crossing a river and getting over a flock of sheep rather than soldiers, pleasing a master, writing nonsense to an "auld wife," and orders for the camp, blowing up fifty people at least, shaking hands with some fifty Kafirs, and giving them tobacco, and a breakfast to two of them, who were highly delighted. The graceful air and gentlemanlike manner in which they thank you is really astonishing. No French marquis of the ancien régime could exceed their bow and expression of countenance. The knowledge they have, too, of passing events is totally surprising. They are perfect politicians, and talk to me of the general policy of our countries.

4 o'clock, 16 April.                        
On the road to Butterworth, Hintza's residence.            
Gona Camp, 7 miles over the Kei.

Hallifax, who literally loves me, has made a fort, which he and Bingham–the impudent rascals!–call Fort Harry, just above Fort Willshire; and last night they sent me a copy of a drawing they have made of it, and which I send to you. It is a very useful little work, I assure you, and must be admired by you because its name is Harry.

FORT — HARRY.
Hallifax et Bingham fecit

Old Pato has just arrived with the waggons and one of his chiefs, come, he said, to learn the news. He has sent a message to his cousin Hintza. Old Pato says Hintza is a great chief. We must wait patiently with him, and give him time. He is a great chief. So I told him, great or small, if he or a messenger from him were not in to-morrow, I would be at his people immediately. At this old Pato and his captain laughed fit to kill themselves. They are two monkey-faced rascals, but they are dressed like Dutchmen, and really very well-behaved fellows. Adios por el momento.

17th April, 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

After rather an uninteresting march, the country being very monotonous, here we are in the most beautiful and highly cultivated valley, close to Hintza's residence and immediately in front of the missionary institution of Butterworth, formerly occupied by Mr. Ayliff, but now abandoned. We breakfasted in a nice little ravine with good water and visits innumerable from the Fingoes, whose cattle are grazing all around us, giving the air of harmony, peace, and confidence. These Fingoes are a race of men formerly dispersed by Dingaan's tribe. They took refuge in Kafirland, and are but ill treated and little looked upon by the Kafirs. They are exceedingly inclined to befriend us, and if Mr. Hintza is not what I know he will be, we will arm all these Fingoes and use them as an instrument of vengeance against their oppressors. They are a fine athletic set of fellows.

Master is very communicative to me, and, I am vain enough to think, takes my advice, but it is difficult to advise. My mind is not enough awake to the subject. When the responsibility is mine, my versatile disposition turns the subject in a thousand ways, and at daylight a bright ray of intellect has heretofore been kind enough to say, "Enrique, do so-and-so." It is really astonishing when I reflect upon my late career; everything has occurred to me as if by inspiration. All my little successes have flashed across my mind in an instant, and have been to the utmost of my power as instantly put into execution.

Midday, Saturday 18th.

One of Hintza's principal councillors, who came to us the first day, has just come in with a long tail, and claims an audience. He is a little shrewd-looking old fellow with a tiger-skin karosse, and brings as a present and token of good faith and amity a bullock.

We have given him a saddle and bridle, and oh, the delight of the fellow! Thirty-five are sitting round me, having thrown off their karosses, as naked as they were born, one, a great orator, holding forth to the honour of the British nation–I dare say a great humbug; however, we can humbug too. I have just given all of the councillor's tail a piece of tobacco, and his orator a tinder-box; also to two a knife apiece, and oh, such kissing of hands! He says Hintza will be here to-night or to-morrow.

7 o'clock.–Oh, it has just begun to lighten tremendously, and the thunder rolls ten thousand cannon. Such vivid lightning I scarcely ever saw, like a blue light at sea, and lasting almost as long. Heavens, what a storm! I must shut up my desk. Good God, how it blows and rains and lightens! The candle is almost flapped out with the walls of the tent; I will finish this page though, if possible, rain or no rain. Viva Mr. Hintza's country! You are a changeable fellow, hot and cold, wet and dry, light and dark in a moment. Blow, rain, thunder, lighten, but pray let me write to my poor old wife, for I can't go to my bed yet, the rain so spatters through my tent.

Evening of the 19th, Sunday.

About 2000 Fingo captains have come in to say they must return into the colony with their wives and families, which will be granted them, so that I shall have a pretty increase of my cares. These are, as I have before told you, real game fellows, and, supported by my best of Hottentots, will drive more cattle out of the kloofs on the bed of the Kei in one day than we could in a week. It will be a measure of great policy, too, to bring with us a settlement of people so well disposed towards us and place them upon our new frontier. They appear to be of a much more docile nature than the wild Kafir, whose head is mischief and heart deceit.

I therefore hope to see them and their families comfortably located on a good ground and their huts built before winter, and hereafter they must be taught to build cottages. I feel convinced that nothing would tend to the civilization of these poor people more than domestic comfort in a nice cottage in place of lying all together like dogs in a kennel. . . . Goodnight, my soul, my love, my wife.

ENRIQUE.

9 o'clock at night, 19th April.

I have just received a deputation of royal blood. The lookout officer reported to me that about one hundred Kafirs were coming towards the camp in a friendly manner and without assagais, so off I started with my orderlies to meet them, making sure they were from Hintza. On my approach I halted them, and desired one to come out, when out came a tiger-karosse man He said he was the captain, Kuba, come to pay his respects to the Governor, and asked the news, which is their mode of wishing to know whether we are friends or foes. I told him that four of his people might come with him, and I would then conduct him to the Governor. The Governor told them the news was with Hintza. This was all they could get from him, but he was very civil.

We encamp in a very curious way–not as in the Peninsula, the General some distance from the camp. We are all in a square, the troops outside, the General and staff and all the commissariat and oxen and waggons within. Sentries outside of the whole.

I have just returned from poor old Master, who now is very kind to me, and treats me with the most marked attention. He said, "Well, have you sent the sketch of yourself to Mrs. Smith?" "Oh yes." "Do you know what Michell says?" "No, sir." "Why, that if he could get you to stand still for one minute, he could make a perfect likeness of you." "By God, sir, I have not time to stand still." "I believe you," said the old boy; "you have not stood still;" and he shook my hand.

20th April.

I have just ordered Bruintjes to bring me a camp-kettle lid full of embers, and now am quite warm. Such a cold day as this would put me in a fever about you, were you here, lest you should get cold, lest you should not have all you want. For years now (that horrid thing, Time!) you have been accustomed to luxury. When I was first troubled with you, you were a little, wiry, violent, ill-tempered, loving, always faithful, little devil, and kept your word to a degree which at your age and for your sex was as remarkable as meritorious. How often have I admired you for it! Had it not been for your own good sense and faith to me, I should not have had my dearest love as a young woman, nor an old Boba to whom to pour out the feelings of an affectionate heart. But please Almighty God, I shall have this old woman with me, until we both dwindle to our mother earth. And when the awful time comes, grant we go together at the same moment!

It is time we changed our camp. This delightful valley, so beautiful in its crops of Indian and Kafir corn, the hills around, so luxuriantly clothed with grass, are all now eaten off or trod down by the innumerable bullocks, horses, and animals we have with us, and bear the countenance of what you have so often seen–war and devastation. When we march to a fresh bivouac, all is again green and gay.

"Battle over, sleep in clover;
Who so happy as we in camp?"

The soldiers were very much amused yesterday with me, when cross-questioning one of the Hottentot deserters. I asked his name, which was–what do you think?–Henri Smith! By Jupiter, how the fellows laughed! However, I had my jaw too by saying, "All Smiths are sharp, active-looking fellows, and so is our deserter rascal."

I am glad to see those rogues leave the Kafirs. Nothing disheartens the brutes so much as the supposition that you know what they are doing. They will, on account of it–we are given to understand–change their plans even. It is just so with a wild beast (you were a sportswoman once, you know, dearest). Head a wolf, fox, hare, any bête de chasse, and it will change its whole plan of escape immediately. So it is with the Kafir.

10 o'clock, 20th April.

Somerset's division, or rather the débris of it, has just arrived in twos and threes, forty times worse than the army of Burgos was in the pig-shooting days which you witnessed. This is the way in which it has marched these three days. To-morrow His Excellency inspects this division (what a name for it!), and I will answer for it we will still muster a few horses fit to do something.

23rd April, daylight.

My fifty Fingoes just coming in like Trojans. I have ordered each 3 pounds of meat. Upon my word, I never saw anything so fine as my fifty Fingoes, all with their assagais and their shields, and singing as they marched along, all aroused as if the blood of their forefathers was flowing through their veins, when their nation was independent and important amongst the other savages. They then gave me a war-whoop, and jumped, and then sang again most melodiously in a deep sonorous voice, with a most harmonious bass. Nothing villainous in their countenances, but full of heroism and fine feeling.

9 at night.–Oh, such a Johnny Raw as old John Bell sent up to us to-day, young —! The General did not know what the devil to do with him, and sent for me. I soon appointed him a Volunteer to the 1st Provisional Battalion, and as he had neither tea, sugar, coffee, nor brandy, he was a pleasant fellow to join a half-starved officers' mess. I set him up with 2 lbs. tea, 4 lbs. sugar, 4 lbs. coffee, and a canteen of brandy, with this good advice: "Be broad awake, sir, and learn to speak quick." I was very near telling him to get his hair cut. Tell dear old John to send us no more such trash.

Bivouac on the T'solo, a small stream running into the T'somo,
which runs into the Kei, 30th April, 1835.

Viva Enrique!

MI QUERIDISSIMA MUGER,

Since the 24th, I have not been able to talk with you, and in these six days your old man has worked wonders. Hintza dined with me yesterday, and is my son.

On the morning of the 24th instant, His Excellency having waited nine days for a communication from Hintza and none arriving, proclaimed hostilities to a chief named Kuba (Lynx-eyes), and fired a gun in great ceremony. Knowing pretty well that nothing but the most vigorous and indefatigable exertions would bring this fickle chief to terms, I had a little bit of an army of both divisions told off for me, with which I immediately commenced operations, the results of which are detailed in the accompanying two letters. With them I send my dear old woman a copy of the General Order on the subject.

On the afternoon of yesterday, on my return, His Excellency, who was most highly delighted at my success, informed me that on the 27th and the 28th, he had received communications from Hintza, but he had refused to treat with any one but himself. "Right, sir," says I, "by G—d." He continued, "This afternoon you will see him himself, or I am the most deceived of men." (However, I held in readiness a detachment of fresh troops to march against Boku at two o'clock in the morning on a fresh venture.)

About four our picquets reported a body of horsemen coming in. We sent out Beresford to meet it, and in rode the Great Chief, a very good-looking fellow, and his face, though black, the very image of poor dear George IV. He seemed perfectly satisfied of his safety among us, and acted majesty with great dignity, though nearly naked like the rest. He said to the Governor that he was ready to proceed to business.

His Excellency, therefore, read sentence by sentence a long story of grievances, which our interpreter spoke. Hintza paid great attention, occasionally made a remark, and when it came to the terms on which we would make peace, he sighed two or three times; then gave a toss of his head and said he would consider of them.

I asked him to dine with me. He and one of his councillors came, and you would have laughed to have seen us all. He fed himself very well, ate enormously, drank only water, but lots of coffee, with pounds of sugar in each cup. After dinner he began politics. I soon saw he was for coming to terms. He said he looked upon me as his Father. I therefore soon cleared my tent of all but myself, the Interpreter, Hintza, and one of his councillors. In deep whispers he proceeded to talk over the present state of affairs, pointed out the insubordination of many of the chiefs under him, and, to make a long story short, we swore eternal amity and friendship and privately concluded peace on our terms. The whole was to be publicly ratified in the morning.

I stuck to my son, turned out all the troops, and assembled all the officers. The Governor appeared at their head, I and Hintza and his councillors opposite. I having pledged myself to be his patron and answer to the Governor for his fidelity (which highly pleased him), he then ratified all the conditions of our treaty and shook hands with the Governor and with me.

I then said, "Now let it be proclaimed far and near that the Great Chief Hintza has concluded a peace with the Great King of England, and let the cannon fire."

Three guns were loaded and fired in succession accordingly. Hintza was delighted. All our prisoners had been released. We had a capital breakfast together, and soon after gave him his presents. I never saw a creature so delighted. He swears by me. The main points of our treaty are these (there are several minor ones)–that he shall within five days give up 25,000 head of cattle and 500 horses, and that this day twelvemonth he shall pay 25,000 more and 500 more horses. He is to place two hostages in our hands for the fulfilment of his treaty, but as to hostages, he says, "Why, I will remain with you myself." He is to order the rebel chiefs to submit, and to consider our enemies his. I am quite amused with the fellow. Now, old woman, I give myself more credit for my negotiations than anything else, and God knows I have been the humble instrument for concluding this arduous and laborious war most satisfactorily. I have followed the enemy everywhere, driven him out of every den, captured 25,000 head of cattle in all, and concluded an honourable peace. The poor Excellency is most delighted. The labour I have encountered from the morning of the 24th to the afternoon of the 30th has astonished everybody, nay, even myself. It is nearly equal to my ride up from Cape Town.

Hintza's son is just come in, a very fine young man about nineteen or twenty. I am to have the honour of his company at dinner, with that of his papa, my son. . . . Oh, to-day my heart was full to overflowing! I had taken prisoner the brother of a chief called Chopo. I told him yesterday that he or his brother must pay 500 bullocks for his ransom. Then he said, "My liberty is a hopeless case"; and he sighed and looked so melancholy, I quite pitied him. He was a very handsome, nice youth. After peace was proclaimed, I sent for him and liberated him, and I declare he made such demonstrations of real gratitude, that the poor savage saw a tear steal down my cheek. I could not help it. Poor fellow, how delighted I was to have it in my power to confer the great boon of liberty on a poor fellow-creature!–almost a reward for my labour, I declare.

To-morrow we begin to turn our heads towards home, but we must wait for the cattle. Hintza has sent in all directions for it, and it is to be here in five days from to-morrow's sun.

How you would laugh to see me walking about the camp with Hintza leaning on my arm!

Four o'clock, 30th April.

What do you think has been my occupation for this last half-hour? One very much in my way. Stringing a large necklace of glass beads for young Hintza. I have just hung it round his neck in three rows.

1st May.

Just four months to-day since I left you, dearest. What a time it does appear! Good heavens! four years at least.

There never were such game fellows as these Hottentots. The other night in the Kei, after a terrific march, when we got up to the enemy, I halloed them on like a pack of hounds, and, upon my word, they flew past me through the bush like buffaloes, making everything crack before them.

Only fancy, my dear old woman, what must have been my five days' late campaign. I never shaved from the 24th to the evening of the 29th, nor did I ever comb my hair. My toothbrush my only luxury. I changed my pantaloons because in a cattle hunt the mimosa bushes literally tore them off. The difficulty of obtaining information where anything is going on occupies every moment one has off horseback. One of the days I was out, Paddy Balfour–meaning well, God knows–sent my led horses with the infantry, and at night I had the gratification to find myself 25 miles from them. We had lots of cattle, but killing and eating two hours after dark is rather a bore. Luckily, one of the men gave me a bit of tongue–no salt nor biscuit, but I was delighted with it. Next morning, on joining the infantry, having had no cup of coffee, I was so hungry, by heavens! I could have bit a piece out of my wife's shoulder, when one of the escort hauled out of a dirty haversack a bone of a goat, which he had already had a gnaw at. So I turned to at that, and gnawed it as greedily as little Moira seizes everything out of one's hand. However, after joining my horses, I had a real good breakfast, and we then marched 25 miles over mountains steeper than the Pyrenees, and the weather down in the Amava was exceedingly hot. However, we have overcome all difficulties.

8 o'clock in the evening, 1st May.

I have written a very long letter to dear old John Bell. I wish I could let him be behind the scenes in one of my councils with the chief. Such rascals as they are, trying to overreach you. My delight is for a long time to keep playing with them, as though thoughtlessly about to concede their request, then suddenly to turn round when they least expect it, show them what they are aiming at, and then say, "No, decidedly not. A man never changes 'the word.' It is written–the cannons have fired." This figurative and metaphorical mode of speech they are very fond of. I carry on all our negotiations in this way, until it comes to the point. Then I disrobe the question and put it in plain matter-of-fact language. Altogether it is good fun for the moment, but I can see that as these rascals are bereft of their fears they will become troublesome and try every shift in their power.

We expect Thomson up daily. Master and he will have a long ride or two–I think to decide on eligible spots for a line of posts along the Kei. It is decided we take possession of all this country; but as yet we have not touched upon it to Hintza, to whom it matters but little, as we take possession of no territory belonging to him personally, but of a large portion of his brother Boku's. There does not appear to be any particular love between the two.

2nd May, 5 o'clock.

Just going to send His Majesty his coffee. I sent him one cup yesterday morning, and asked if he would have any more. He said, "Oh yes; I have a large belly."

Later.–On the march to-day met Boku coming in with 20 cattle–all the Colonial cattle he has, the villain.

We had a great scene in camp to-night. There are about 150 followers of these chiefs in camp, and some of them have been murdering the poor wretches of Fingoes, who have placed themselves under our protection. So His Excellency got very naturally irate and blew them up considerably. After to-day's march I recommended that all their assagais should be given up. By way of intim