[To THE EDITOR or THE "SPECTA.TOR.1 SIR,—My brother went into
the death-trap at the Colenso River with the Irish Brigade under Fitzroy Hart. He was a Captain in the Royal Dublin Fusiliers,—he is so no longer. One bright moonlit night in December, 1899, my wife, her mother, and myself were sitting in the drawing-room talking of the South African War, when suddenly and unexpectedly a gun-shot in the immediate vicinity was heard, and simul- taneously something fell in the room. Before we were aware of what had actually fallen, my respected mother-in-law, who is Highland, instinctively exclaimed, " Charley's photo !" On rising to look, sure enough I found that my brother's photo had fallen out of its frame, and was lying face downwards on the floor. On the next day we heard of the appalling disaster at Colenso. These absolutely true facts should surely convert the most sceptical of premonitory warnings, yet the explanation might possibly slightly shake their new-found faith. My next-door neighbour was having a pot-shot at a rabbit in "his garden, the photo-frame was old and of the cheap foreign "dump" order, and my rheumatic but inse,arred brother is now in the Army Pay Department.—I am, Sir, &c., Benfrewshire.
GOURLEY W. TODD.
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