Perhaps fever and sun blind me to hope, for the staff are very confident still.

They even lay odds on a celebration of victory next Sunday by the united forces, and I hear that Sir George is practising the Hundredth Psalm.
_February 8 to February 24, 1900._ I had hoped to keep well all through the siege, so as to see it all from start to finish.

But now over a fortnight has been lost while I have been lying in hospital, suffering all the tortures of Montjuich, "A touch of sun," people called it, combined with some impalpable kind of malaria.

On the 8th I struggled up Caesar's Camp again, and saw parties of Boers burning all the veldt beyond Limit Hill, apparently to prevent us watching the movements of the trains at their railhead.

On the 9th I could not stand, and the bearers, with their peculiar little chant, to keep them out of step, brought me down to the Congregational Chapel in a dhoolie.