NEAR THE RACECOURSE,
PRETORIA.
_Sunday, July 8th._
Back at the Racecourse, Pretoria. The excitement of Friday has not worn
away yet. I hardly know how to describe it, especially as I must be
brief, having such a lot of correspondence to get through. The men who
relieved us on Friday afternoon said they had good news, and then gave
it to us in these magic words: "_The mails are in!_" "_Thirteen bags!_"
At first I could hardly believe or grasp it. The mails were in! I never
expected to see a letter again. The other companies had been receiving
their's for the last fortnight or more, but our whereabouts seemed
unknown to the postal authorities. At last, however, we had got them. We
had not had a word from our other world for over two months. It seemed
over two years. The men who relieved us had come away without their's,
but before we left for camp an officer, Mr. Cory, with bulging
saddle-bags rode up, and they had them. We went back in the mule-waggon,
and did not half exhort the nigger drivers to hurry, you can be sure.
"Hi, hi! Hi-yah!! Tah!!! Nurr! _Crack-crack!!_ Hamba!! Hi-yah!!!" &c. At
last the ten miles were covered and our camp reached. Out of the waggon
we leaped, and "Where are my letters" was the cry. Oh, the thrilling
excitement of seeing the sergeant diving his hand into a sack and
producing letters, papers and parcels galore. "Trooper Wilson--Wilson,
Corporal Finnigan, Lance-Corporal Ross," and a big, dirty paw pounces on
an envelope addressed by a well-known hand. Then another, and once again
a familiar hand is recognised, then another and another. In all I had
over a score of letters and about a dozen or more papers, so you can
guess I have my work before me in answering them. Of course, some have
been lost, especially the papers. The earliest date was April 21st, and
the latest June 8th. Absolute peace and goodwill toward men reigned in
our camp that night. We have all been like so many children at
Christmas-time, asking one another "How many did you get?" And then on
hearing the reply, probably boastfully saying, "Oh! I got more than
you," and so on. It seems so pleasant to be in touch with one's world
again. All the next day the fellows were poring over their letters and
ever and anon, unable to suppress themselves one would be annoyed by
"Ha! ha!! I say, just hear what my young sister says," or "my kiddie
brother," or some such being, then an uninteresting (to other men)
extract would follow.