Ten Months in the Field with the Boers

by Anonymous

TRANSVAAL, 1899-1900.

I

'No room, sir!'

This was the phrase that greeted my friend De C---- and myself at the door of every carriage we tried.

The fast train for Marseilles leaving Paris at 8.25 was, indeed, full to overflowing that night of December 23; by eight o'clock not a place was left.

Finally, after treading on a good many toes, and exchanging a good many elbowings, we installed ourselves more or less comfortably--a good deal less, to be accurate--one in the front of the train, the other close to the luggage-van.

A last clasp of the hand to the comrades who have come to the station with us, and we are off.

The lights of Paris begin to die out in the distance; conversation languishes; the monotonous rumble of the train lulls the travellers into drowsiness; heads nod and droop in the dim light of the lamp.

'La Roche! Wait here five minutes!'

We jump out. C---- and I meet again.