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Field-Marshal EARL ROBERTS, 

V. C, K. G., K. p., G. C. B., G. C. S. I., G. C. I. E., 



War's Brighter Side 

The Story of " The Friend " Newspaper 

Edited by the Correspondents with 
Lord Roberts's forces, March-April, 1900 

^ Julian Ralph 

(One of the Editors) 

With contributiotis from 

A. Conan Doyle, Rudyard Kipling, and others, 

and a letter from Earl Roberts 




New York 

D. Appleton and Company 

1 901 

Copyright, igoi, 

A U rights reserved. 






Field Marshal, EARL ROBERTS, K.G., K.P., V.C. 




April \'>,tk, 1900. 

Dear Lord Stanley, — I understand that 
on Monday next, the i6th inst., The Friend 
will come under the new management, and it 
will, I hope, continue to thrive now that it has 
been established on a sound basis. 

The Army owe a debt of gratitude to the 
gentlemen who so kindly came forward, and who 
have given their services gratuitously in the 
management of the paper. 

That their labours are appreciated is evident 
from the eagerness with which the paper is pur- 
chased by officers and soldiers alike. 

On behalf, therefore, of the troops, I would 

ask you to convey my best thanks to all who 

have contributed toward making the paper such 

a success, especially to the following gentlemen, 

Messrs. Landon, Ralph, Gwynne, and Buxton. 

Believe me to be 

Yours very truly, 



Lord Roberts is the first General of whom 
I have heard who ever recognised and acknowl- 
edged the Value and Power of the Press by es- 
tablishing a Newspaper as a source of Entertain- 
ment and Information for an Army in the Field, 
and as a Medium for conveying such Arguments 
and Appeals as he wished to make to the Enemy. 
This he did, as one might say, the instant he con- 
quered the first of the Boer Capitals, almost 
simultaneously with his appointment of a Mili- 
tary Governor and a Provost Marshal, and the 
establishment of a Police Force. 

The story of Lord Roberts's experiment and 
the Experiences of the Men he selected for his 
Editors must be especially attractive to all Jour- 
nalists, and they will find here set forth whatever 
is of purely professional interest to them. To 
those details I have added the most Notable 
Contributions with which each of the twenty- 
seven Numbers of The Friend was made up, 


War's Brighter Side 

and here this narrow limitation of the interest in 
the book is broken wide asunder. These news- 
paper articles are mainly the Works of Fighting 
Men, at rest between Battles, and of others who 
were at the moment going to or coming from 
Ergagements. They hold the Mirror up to the 
Life of an Army, in Camp, on the March, in Bat- 
tle, and in a Conquered Capital. 

In these Letters, Sketches, and Verses the 
Reader lives with the Soldiers in camp. He 
sees what they work and play at. He hears of 
their deeds of Daring, Mishaps and Adventures. 
He catches their strange Lingo. He observes 
what they Eat — (and what they do not get to 
Drink). He notes how they speak of their Far- 
ing in Battle. In all the Wealth of English Lit- 
erature I know of no such a Mirror-reflection 
and a Phonograph-echoing of Soldier Life as is 

Generals, Colonels — in fact, men of every 
rank and grade contributed their shares; of 
every rank down to " Tommy Atkins," who, in 
general, sings his Songs in the background, in 
verse, like the Chorus in an Ancient Drama. 

To these features I have added many Per- 
sonal Recollections, as well as Anecdotes and 
Stories told by or about the men around me in 
camp, and in the conquered Capital of the Free 
State, with Notes and Comments upon a wide 


variety of subjects suggested during tlie editing 
of the other Matter here collated. 

In the Proclamations of the wise and great 
Field-Marshal, and the Notices, Ordinances, and 
Camp Orders of his Lieutenants set to rule 
Bloemfontein after its capture by us, are to be 
found an account of the Methods by which a 
Triumphant Army establishes its own new rule 
in a Conquered City and Territory. This pe- 
culiar and most interesting history runs, like a 
steel thread, through the book from beginning 
to end. I do not know where else it is told, or 
even hinted at, in what has thus far been written 
of the War. 

It was because each of the chief elements that 
make up this book of The Friend is equally 
fresh and impossible to obtain elsewhere, that I 
undertook the labour of compiling this work. 

It was my first intention to reproduce all the 
Reading Matter which appeared in The Friend 
during the period in which we managed it 
(March i6th to April i6, 1900) but this would 
have formed a ponderous book of 270,000 words 
— without including the Military Proclamations. 
Such a work could not be produced for a price 
at the command of the general reader, and, fur- 
thermore, the general reader would have found 
it too tiresome to work his way through the 
many Technical Articles and others which time 

War's Brighter Side 

has rendered stale or of little interest. There- 
fore, not without regret, I felt obliged to select, 
as my best judgment prompted, the matter of 
the Most Peculiar character, or of Widest Inter- 
est for reproduction here. 

As the former Editors of The Friend have 
now formed themselves into an Order to which 
none is eligible except he or she who tells the 
truth without fear of consequences, the reader 
may as well prepare himself to meet with that 
rare quality in some of the pages that follow. 

The Author. 





I,_The Birth of " The Friend " . . . i 
Showing how it was Fathered by a Field Marshal, 
sponsored by a Duke and three Lords, and given 
over to four certificated male nurses. 

II. — Its Infancy . . . . • • • '5 

A little Thing, puling Great Promises in its Nurses' 

III.— Mr. Kipling makes His First Appear- 
ance 33 

A Costly Sheet— Lines by Kipling— The Steynless 
City— A Love Letter— Exciting Experiences. 

IV,— We Begin to Feel at Home ... 47 
A Strange Editorial Adventure — Lord Roberts's 
New Government under Way — The Sin of Horse 

V. — Sentry Stories 73 

Obnoxious Natives — The Australian Correspond- 
ent — More Love Letters. 

VI.— Ours was no Bed of Roses ... 95 

Kipling's regard for " Tommy Poetry " — Our Eng- 
lish as it was set up by Boer compositors. 

VII. — RuDYARD Kipling, Associate Editor , 115 
A chapter which introduces a Prince, and tells of 
our Appeal to the whole Army to write for The 


War's Brighter Side 


VIII. — Lord Roberts's Headquarters . .130 
Like a beehive for industry when Rudyard Kip- 
ling went to lunch with the Field-Marshal. 

IX,— " Oh, How Good it Was!" . , .154 

All Ranks join our Corps of Contributors, and the 
Paper Sparkles. 

X. — I Visit Miss Bloemfontein . . . 184 
And shall here discuss her, Mr. Kipling, Lord 
Stanley, and our own behaviour. 

XL— Our Very Mixed Public. . . . 206 

A Study of Tommy Atkins, the Inscrutable — Our 
Dutch Compositors Arraigned. 

XII.— "Vive la Compagnie" . . . .227 
Four Correspondents dine the General, the Gov- 
emor, and Rudyard Kipling, and Produce The 
Friend as well. 

XIII.— We Leave "The Friend" to See a 

Fight 249 

The Thirteenth Number, produced by Mr. James 
Barnes of New York. 

XIV. — My Horse Offered For Sale . . 268 
Kipling at last writes something that pleases the 
Boers — A Predikant's letter. 

XV. — Contributions from Kipling . . 281 

XVI. — Our Loss and the Army's . . . 295 
The Departure of Mr. Kipling leaving The 
Friend vigorous with the Impetus he gave it. 

XVII. — Lord Stanley, Journalist . . . 307 

XVIII. — Our Christening Competition . . 314 
I declare the Original War ended and a New One 
begun — Enteric's ravages. 




XIX.— Fooled by the Boers .... 324 
British Leniency and Credulity abused Past 

XX.— Dr. a. Conan Doyle Contributes . 349 

And this suggests a few remarks about the much- 
discussed Treatment of our Sick. 

XXI. — Loot and Lurid Crazes . . . 363 
A chapter in which* we also tell of a modest 
Prince and a gallant Adventurer. 

XXIL— In the Shadow of Sanna's Post . 377 
We try to Name the New Colony, and describe 
the Kornespruit Fight. 

XXIII.— A Complete Newspaper . . .395 
Full of matter no longer a tenth as interesting 
as there and then. 

XXIV. — False Hearts Around Us . . . 400 
Where only the Women were frank — The art 
of the War Artist. 

XXV. — The End Approaches . . . .412 
We arrange to retire from our posts, but also 
start a Portrait Gallery. 

XXVI.— Wanted, a Millionaire , . .423 
A number as sparkling as a string of jewels — 
Joke Portrait Number Two. 

XXVII.— A Notable Number . . . .438 
Captain Cecil Lowther joins the Wits and 
Poets again. A Report by Mr. Jenkins, who 
was " our Staff in himself." 

XXVIII.—" Our Friend " no Longer . . .452 

We retire from the paper, leaving it in able 
and patriotic hands. 

XXIX.— Adieu to " The Friend "... 465 




Earl Roberts Frontispiece 

Lord Stanley at work as Censor 7 

The Editors in their Office i6 

The Capitulation of Bloemfontein .... 71 

A Corrected "Proof" by Rudyard Kipling. . . 96 

Miss Bloemfontein . . . . . . . • 185 

Menu of a notable Dinner 230 

Julian Ralph and his horse " Rattlesnake " . . 269 

The Front Page of "The Friend" of April 4, 1900 . 314 

A Page of Conan Doyle's "Copy" .... 350 

Julian Ralph 454 




The Birth of " The Friend " 

Showing how it was Fathered by a Field Marshal, 
sponsored by a Duke and three Lords, and given 
over to four certificated male nurses 

We reached Bloemfontein with men who had 
done extraordinary marching, fighting, and feats 
of exposure and privation. Some of the troops, 
notably the Guards, had walked more than thirty 
miles in one of the three days' continuous march- 
ing. Many had fought at Jacobsdahl, Paarde- 
berg, and Dreefontein, not to speak of lesser 
actions at Waterval Drift and Poplar Grove. 

During at least the last week of this almost 
unprecedented military performance the army 
had been reduced to less than half rations. We 
were very short of food for beasts as well as men. 
We had lost a large number of transport wag- 
gons, with their contents and the animals that 
drew them, and we had put the torch to two 


War's Brighter Side 

great hillocks of food which we could not take 
with us beyond Paardeberg. All our four-footed 
helpers were spent, hundreds of horses were ill, 
hundreds of bodies of others were lying along our 
wake upon the veldt, with flocks of glutted, yet 
still gluttonous, aasvogels feeding upon their 

Worse, far worse than all else combined, the 
dreadful microbes of enteric had entered the 
blood of thousands of the soldiers, who had 
found no other water to drink than that of the 
pestilential Modder River which carried along 
and absorbed the bodies of men and horses as 
well as the filth of the camps of both the Boers 
and ourselves. 

We had done as the Boers had said we never 
would do — as only one man of their forces (Ville- 
bois-Mareuil) had foreseen that a great general 
like Lord Roberts must be certain to do: we had 
left the railway and swept across the open veldt 
for one hundred miles, from Jacobsdahl and Kim- 
berley to Bloemfontein. For warning his cruel 
and foul-mouthed commander-in-chief, Cronje, 
that we would do this, Cronje insulted the bril- 
liant Frenchman grossly, and bade him keep his 
idiotic notions to himself. But we had done it, 
and Cronje had lost his army and his liberty for 
failing to heed the warning. At Bloemfontein 
we came upon the steam highway once more, 


The Birth of " The Friend " 

but to the south of Bloemfontein it was wrecked 
at many points, while to the northward it was in 
the enemy's country and control. 

There was therefore nothing for us but to 
rest. Yet how heroically we had worked to 
make rest necessary! How well we had earned 
the right to enjoy rest if we had been of the 
temper to desire it! In one month under the 
great Field Marshal we had gone further and 
accomplished more than all the other British 
armies had done in nearly six months. We had 
won over the eagles of victory to perch upon our 
standards. We had freed Ladysmith and Kim- 
berley, drawn the Boers away from the Cape 
Colony border, captured the best army and lead- 
ing general of our foes, and were encamped 
around Bloemfontein with President Steyn's 
Residency in use as our headquarters. 

The manner in which four of the war cor- 
respondents first learned that we were not to 
push on to the northward in an effort to seize 
the Transvaal capital, but were to halt at Bloem- 
fontein, was most peculiar. It was so peculiar 
as to have led to the establishment of the first 
newspaper ever conducted by an army for an 
army on the field of battle. It was so unique 
an episode that this volume is published to com- 
memorate and explain it; and I trust that no 
one who reads this will decide that it was not an 


War's Brighter Side 

episode worthy of an even more marked, sub- 
stantial, and valuable memorial than I possess 
the talent to construct. 

We entered Bloemfontein on March 13th. 
Two days later I was asked by Mr. F. W. Bux- 
ton, of the Johannesburg Star, to attend a meet- 
ing of some other correspondents and Lord 
Stanley in Lord Stanley's office on that day. I 
had caught up with the army by a dangerous 
journey with only two companions across the 
veldt from Kimberley, where an injury to my 
leg had laid me up. I had reported myself to 
Lord Stanley, the censor. I had previously car- 
ried on some correspondence with him, but our 
personal acquaintance had not been of more than 
five minutes' duration. I could not, therefore, 
know at that time that he was to prove himself 
the most competent of all the censors appointed 
to supervise the work of us correspondents. In 
saying that he was the " most competent " I 
mean that he ranked above all the others in 
every quality which goes to make up fitness for 
this unceasing and exacting work. He had 
quick intelligence, great breadth of judgment, 
unfailing courtesy, unbroken patience, and all 
the modesty of a truly able man. 

Hardly can the average reader estimate the 
degree of satisfaction with which we correspond- 
ents came quickly to realise the admirable quali- 


The Birth of '' The Friend " 

ties of this first and only fair and considerate 
censor that most of us had known in the war. 
At one place we knew a censor who read the 
letters which came to officers and privates from 
their wives in England, and who used to regale 
his chance acquaintances with comparisons be- 
tween the sterling virtues and deep affection of 
the letters to Tommy, and the colder, more self- 
ish, and even querulous messages of the wives of 

At another place we had a censor who obliged 
us to hand to him our letters to our wives 
and sweethearts unsealed, and in one case this 
censor kept for twenty-four hours a letter I had 
written to my family. 

Still another censor showered his contempt 
upon certain correspondents who, in every way 
which goes to make up refinement, self-respect, 
and dignity, were many times better men than 
he. It amused him to take the despatches of a 
Colonial lad, who was doing his best to enter 
upon an honourable career, and throw them in 
his waste basket daily for ten days without in- 
forming the youth of their fate. It pleased him 
to insult me by telling me that the only message 
I could send to England must be a description 
of a sandstorm; while to Mr. E. F. Knight, a 
man Lord Methuen said he " was proud to have 
with his army," this censor said, " There is only 


War's Brighter Side 

one thing I will allow you to write — that is, a 
description of a new Union Jack which has just 
been run up over the headquarters." 

With such ill-chosen, mistaken men had we 
undergone experiences, and now, at last, we met 
with Lord Stanley, who, having been born with 
the attributes of a gentleman, never could forget 
them; who had the most intense likes and dis- 
likes for those around him, yet never let these 
hinder or temper his unvarying fairness; who was 
as firm as iron and yet always gentle; a stout, 
strong, stalwart man in build, hearty and kindly 
in manner; a man who took command as easily 
and exercised it as smoothly as if he had been 
a general at birth. 

I speak of him at some length not merely 
because his case proves that the one well- 
equipped censor appointed in the armies on the 
west side of the continent was a civilian, and not 
only because this one competent censor gave 
equally complete satisfaction to both the Army 
and the Press, but because he assumed a con- 
spicuous and important part in the story I am 

His office was as nearly literally a hole in a 
wall as a room in a house could well be. It was 
in the corner of the Free State Post Office build- 
ing, facing the great central square of dirt, in the 
middle of which stood the market, under whose 


Mr. Ralph, 

Mr. Scull, of Chicago, 

Mr. Buxton, of The Friend, 
are the three men behind the Censor. 

Mr. Pearse, Morning Post. 
Mr. Bennett Burleigh, 
Daily Telegraph. 





1M| ■ 

'A 1 

- ■ % m 


...-S^jiJ. .:.-_# itf^-^ ilF^ 

■p ' " ^ 

W. B. Wollen, 

Mr. Maxwell, 

of the Standard. 

Mr. Melton Prior. 

Mr. Rennet, 
of '■ Laffan's Bureau." 

Lord Stanley Censoring Reports of a Battle. 
Photographed by H. Mackern, of Scribner' s Magazine. 

The Birth of " The Friend " 

open shed the mounted men of the City Imperial 
Volunteers lived among their saddles and bridles, 
and slept on the tables of the greengrocers, 
whose place this once had been. On the Post 
Office side of the square was the Free State 
Hotel, the best in the town. On the opposite 
side, an eighth of a mile away, was the Club. 
Between the two ends ran a double row of such 
shops as one looks for in a small village, and 
behind one of these was the office of a newspaper 
called The Friend of the Free State. 

Lord Stanley's office was a wretched poke- 
hole of a room. It boasted a door with glass 
panels and no window. Its floor was of bare 
boards. Its walls were partly made of soiled 
plaster and partly of bare boards. Opposite the 
door, in the corner, stood a kitchen table which 
was never used, and in the other dark end of the 
room was another kitchen table, behind which, 
on a kitchen chair, the ex-Guardsman and Whip 
of the Unionist Party sat nearly all day, and some 
hours of every evening, with one hand full of 
manuscript and the other holding the little tri- 
angular stamp with which he printed the sign 
manual of his approval upon nearly every de- 
spatch which was written by those correspond- 
ents who kept within the law governing the 
cabling of news to their journals. A kerosene 
lamp, an inkpot and pen, and a litter of papers 


War's Brighter Side 

were the other appointments of the room. The 
censor was clad in khaki Hke all the rest of us, 
but the collar of his tunic bore on each side the 
short bit of red cloth which marked him as a 
staff officer. 

To this office, at the censor's invitation, came 
Percival Landon, correspondent of the Times, H. 
A. Gwynne, of Reuter's Agency, F. W. Buxton, 
of the Johannesburg Star, and myself. 

" Gentlemen," said Lord Stanley after the 
door had been closed and locked to keep out the 
current of " Tommies " with telegrams which 
flowed in and eddied before the desk all day, 
'* Lord Roberts wants to have a daily newspaper 
published for the entertainment and information 
of the Army while we are here. I may tell you 
that we are likely to stay here four weeks. You 
four are asked to undertake the work of bring- 
ing out the newspaper. Will you do it? " 

Three of us did not clearly see how we could 
undertake so laborious and exacting a task and 
still do justice to our newspapers at home; nev- 
ertheless, the censor's words had been, " Lord 
Roberts wants this." 

" We must do it if Lord Roberts desires it," 
was the reply of one of us. The rest nodded 
acquiescence, but said nothing. 

" I am very glad," the censor replied. 

Mr. Buxton, who knew South Africa and its 

The Birth of " The Friend " 

Press very well, appeared to have devoted some 
attention to the matter earlier in the day. From 
him and from the censor we learned that two 
daily newspapers had been published in Bloem- 
fontein up to the time that we took possession 
of the town. One was the Express, the property 
of the widow of one Borckenhagen — a Boer 
organ of the most pronounced type, and notori- 
ous for the virulence of its attacks upon the 
British, for its lying reports, and its mischievous 
influence. That paper had been stopped by Lord 
Roberts, and its machinery, type, and all else 
belonging to it were for us to do with it as we 

The other paper was the little Friend of the 
Free State, owned, as I understand, by an Eng- 
lishman named Barlow, who was out of the 
country and had left the property in the care of 
his son. This younger Barlow had not con- 
ducted the paper in such a spirit toward us as 
one would have looked for from a man of English 
blood; but, either for good cause, worldly in- 
terests, or wholly despicable reasons, there was 
so much disloyalty and so much more of fence 
straddling throughout South Africa that a very 
lenient view was taken of this case, and we were 
asked to find out what sum of money would 
satisfy Barlow for the loss of income from his 
paper while we conducted it. He was to be told 


War's Brighter Side 

that he could not be permitted to continue his 
editorship, and that therefore it was necessary to 
settle on some figure covering any shrinkage that 
might occur in his customary profits while the 
newspaper was in our charge. 

Mr. Buxton was appointed to confer with 
Barlow, and in a few hours we all met again to 
hear that the dethroned editor would be satisfied 
with a guarantee of £200, or £40 a week during 
the month of our editorship. 

" We ought not to be at any risk of having 
to pay this sum," said Mr. Landon. " If we give 
our time to the work cannot the Government 
assume the responsibility for the money? " 

" No," said the censor, " you cannot be al- 
lowed to lose anything by your kindness. Two 
hundred pounds will be the utmost cost, eh? 
Well, I think that Westminster, Dudley, and I, 
can raise that between us." 

We held our breaths for a moment as he said 
this, for it flashed upon us that the heir of Lord 
Derby, the owner of the great Dudley estates, 
and the greatest landlord of London, were to be 
our backers, that they were high up among the 
richest men of England, and that one of them 
was saying he was hopeful that among all three 
two hundred pounds might not prove an impos- 
sible sum to raise. 

"Yes, that's all right," Lord Stanley re- 

The Birth of <' The Friend" 

peated; " I think that Dudley, Westminster, and 
I can manage it." 

The reader will not be prepared to hear that 
anything funnier than that could grow out of 
this situation. But it was to be so. Weeks after 
our singular editorial experience ended I re- 
ceived, while in Capetown, a letter from an 
interested Afrikander asking me whether I 
thought the three men who guaranteed Barlow 
against a loss of profits from his paper were re- 
sponsible men, and Barlow would be likely to 
get his forty pounds! 

I went away to nurse my injured leg, and the 
other editors went their ways to arrange for get- 
ting out a new paper, which all of us agreed 
should be christened with the now historic name 
of The Friend. While we are thus separated 
from them let me draw a pen picture of each. 

Percival Landon, representing the Times, is 
a university man, who has been admitted to the 
bar, and who took up the work of a war corre- 
spondent from an Englishman's love of adven- 
ture, danger, and excitement. It can be noth- 
ing but his English blood that prompted him to 
this course, for in mind and temperament, tastes 
and qualifications, he is at once a scholar and a 
poet rather than a man of violent action. Had 
the Times so desired he would have charmed the 
public with letters from the front as human and 


War's Brighter Side 

picturesque in subject and treatment as any that 
were sent to London. His charms of manner 
and of mind caused his companionship to be 
sought by the most distinguished and the most 
polished men in the army, and all were deeply 
sorry when, at the close of the army's stay in 
Bloemfontein, illness forced him to return to 
London, though not until he had served in the 
war as long as any man at that time on the west 
side of the continent. 

Mr. H. A. Gwynne, representing Reuter's 
Agency, is a veteran war correspondent, though 
a young man otherwise. He is Landon's dia- 
metrical opposite, being above all else a man of 
action and a born soldier. As an author and as 
a mountain climber of distinction he was known 
before he adopted the profession of journalism 
and took part in, I think, ten campaigns: The 
Turko-Greek, the Omdurman campaign, the 
Egyptian campaign preceding it, and others. It 
was Gwynne who, with Mr. George W. Steevens, 
received the surrender of the Volo from the 
Greek authorities before the Turks entered the 
town. Mr. Gwynne has superabundant strength, 
health, and spirits, loves soldiering and adven- 
ture, and is so shrewd in his judgment of men, 
and practised in his observations of war, that 
more than one general made it a practice to con- 
sult him upon what he knew and saw during the 


The Birth of " The Friend " 

South African campaign. How well he can write 
the pages of The Friend attest. 

Mr. Buxton is a specialist in the interests 
which are uppermost in Johannesburg, where, as 
a member of the staff of the Star, and as a citizen 
of consequence, he has made himself intimately 
known to the forceful men of South Africa, and 
has mastered the problems that lie before the 
British in reconstructing the government and 
welding the two leading races together. He had 
accompanied Lord Methuen's unfortunate army 
from its start to its rescue by Lord Roberts, and 
during all that time his knowledge of the country 
and of the Boers might have been turned to good 
account had he been consulted. It was fitting 
that the staff of the newspaper should have 
had upon it a representative colonial of English 
stock, yet of long and masterful local experience 
such as Mr. Buxton. 

For a striking picture of the minor characters 
who figured as our foremen and compositors in 
the newspaper office the reader will do well to 
read Rudyard Kipling's " A Burgher of the Free 
State," one of the short stories he wrote after his 
return from South Africa in the early summer 
of 1900. 

It showed us associates of the master story- 
teller how instantly, broadly, and accurately he 
is able to imbibe and absorb the colour and spirit, 


War's Brighter Side 

and even the most minor accessories of any new 
and strong situation around him. It will show 
the reader better than any amount of another 
man's writing the characters of our helpmeets 
and neighbours, and the atmosphere in which 
they moved. 



Its Infancy 

A little Thing, puling Great Promises in its Nurses' 

On March i6, 1900, there glimmered (it can- 
not be said to have flashed) upon the Army and 
the half-wondering, half-treacherous population 
of Bloemfontein, the first number of The 
Friend. It was produced in the office of the 
former Friend of the Free State — an office that 
had the appearance of having been arranged out 
of a dust-heap, and stocked with machinery, type, 
and furniture that had been originally bought at 
second-hand and left to itself through fifty years 
of frequent dust-storms. 

Everything in it was either the colour of dirt 
or the tone of type-dust— everything, including 
the window-panes and the printers. Of the latter 
we never knew the number, names, or characters. 
Only one gnomish man ever appeared at large 
out upon the uncharted floor of the composing- 
room, and he was elderly and silent — a man 

3 15 

War's Brighter Side 

grown mechanical, and now making but a feeble 
fight against the dirt and type-dust which was 
slowly covering him in what was apparently to be 
another such upright tomb as held the last of the 
wife of Lot. He sometimes came into the edi- 
torial dust-hole — if we yelled and stamped our 
loudest and our longest. He came wearily and 
softly, heard our orders, and vanished in the 
type-dust as we used to see our army friends 
at Modder step out of our tents into a dust-devil 
and disappear on the ocean of veldt and at high 

The oth<*r printers lived in the little side alleys 
between the rows of type-cases. They were evi- 
dently drawn there by the feeble, straggling light 
that still shone faintly through the filth upon the 
window-panes. I judged that they were older 
than the foreman, and too feeble, too nearly en- 
tombed by the dirt, to be able to go out upon 
the floor. We only got glimpses of them, and 
never heard one speak. 

Out in the back yard, behind Barlow's sta- 
tionery shop, the sun glared fierce and hot upon 
a strip of desert ground, a blue gum-tree, and a 
'preternatural boy. He lived out there, refusing 
to be drawn into the dust-heap until the awful 
sentence of serving as a printer should, at last, be 
read out to him. We had a fancy that each of 
the old men inside had begun like that boy, cHng- 


Julian Ralph. Perceval Landon. 

H. A. Gwynne. Rudyard Kipling. 

The Editors in their Office. 

Photographed by H. Mackern, of Scriiiifr's Magazine. 

Its Infancy 

ing as long as possible to the region of air and 
light, that each in his turn had been sucked in 
at last, and that it was this last boy who went in 
at lunch time and led the old fellows out of their 
solitary, silent cells, and gave each a push in the 
back to start them toward their homes. 

How Messrs. Gwynne, Buxton, and Landon 
managed to get out the first paper, which they 
forgot to mark with what a great man once said 
were " the saddest words ever seen in print," 
that is to say, " Vol. I., No. i.," I never asked 
them, though I wondered. They did produce it, 
however, and called it 

Playing Cards. ) THE FRIEND. ( C"© Tips and 
All Qualities at }- ] Wafers 

Barlow's. \ 3d. 3d. ( at Barlow's. 

VOL. IV. NO. 1,027. 

Its sheet was of the size of two copies of the 
Spectator laid side by side. Each of its four pages 
measured twenty inches long by fifteen wide. 
Far more striking than its title was this sentence, 
in blackest type: " If you once use Vereeniging 
coal you will never use any other." All the ad- 
vertisements, except the very many scattered 
about for Barlow's stationery business, and for 
which I hope he was made to pay at the highest 
rates, were old notices carried on from the days 
of Boer rule. 


War's Brighter Side 

Upon the second page two advertisements 
were brand new. They were proclamations 
signed " By order, G. T. Pretyman, Major-Gen- 
eral, Military Commandant, Bloemfontein." 
One was in the Taal language, the other was in 
English, and both announced that a market 
would be held daily, near the town, for the sale 
of such local produce as butter, eggs, milk, 
poultry, and vegetables. The prices to be 
charged were laid down by this sapient and enter- 
prising general, who declared eggs to be worth 
two shillings a dozen, milk fivepence a bottle, 
turkeys five shillings and sixpence and higher, 
butter two shillings a pound, &c. The English 
proclamation was headed " Notice." The Dutch 
copy bore the title " Kennisgeving," and was 
signed, " Bij order, G. T. Pretyman, Majoor- 
Generaal, Krijgs-Kommandant van Bloemfon- 

On the third, or editorial page, was another 
military notice entitled " Army Orders," which 
I reprint in full, as showing how almost instantly 
Lord Roberts established his own rule in the 
conquered capital. General Pretyman's market 
notice was dated the day we took the town, and 
we knew that on that day a local police force was 
established, headquarters and quarters for all the 
branches of the military rule were at once set 
up, and here on the 15th there had been found 


Its Infancy 

time to arrange and prepare for publication a 
directory of the new arrangements. 


Army Headquarters, Government House, 
Bloemfontein, March 15, 1900. 

I. Civil Population to be unmolested. 

It being desirable and in the interest of both the 
British Government and the inhabitants of this 
country that all residents should be assured that so 
long as they remain peaceably disposed their civil 
rights and property will be respected, it is strictly 
forbidden that any private property should be com- 
pulsorily taken possession of by other than the au- 
thorised Supply Officers. 

All articles required by the troops must be ob- 
tained and paid for in the ordinary way, and no tres- 
passing or interference with the inhabitants will be 

These instructions apply to detached bodies of 
troops as well as to the Force generally, and it is 
specially the duty of all officers to put a stop to all 
attempts to infringe them. 

By order, 

J. W. Kelly, 
> A.G. for C. of Staff. 


At Government 

At Government 

War's Brighter Side 

6. OMce of Departments. 

The offices of the various Departments are situ- 
ated as shown below : — 

Military Secretary 

Chief of Staff 

G.O.C Royal Artillery 

Chief Engineer 

Director of Transport 

Director of Supplies 

Provost Marshal 

P.M.O. ' 3, Maitland Street. 

The office of the Press Censor is established next 
door to the entrance to the Telegraph Office. All 
telegrams except official ones must be censored. 
Office hours from 7 to 8 a.m., 10 a.m. to 12 noon, 
3 to 5 p.m. 

7. Supply Department. 

As soon as the Supply Park arrives, a Supply 
Depot will be established at Mr. Beck's Store, on 
Baumann's Square. 

8. Divisions, Brigades, &c., where quartered. 

The following units are quartered as shown 
below : — 


Headquarters — Club, Market Square. 

1st Brigade — About 2 miles W. of town. 

2nd Brigade — Bloemspruit, about 3 miles east of 

3rd Brigade — Rustfontein, about i mile N. of town. 


Its Infancy 

Mr. James Collins, under State Secretary to the 
late O.F.S. Government, has been appointed Land- 
drost of Bloemfontein. 

The period for handing in arms and ammunition 
by burghers and residents of this town and district 
has been extended to March 26th. 

After a notice that Major Hamilton, the 
Carabineers, would like to receive two £5 notes, 
a Mauser pistol, a pair of Zeiss glasses and a grey 
gelding, all lost by various persons in and near 
the town, we published our editorial announce- 
ment that the paper was established by and for 
Lord Roberts's army: — 


The events of the last few days have rendered it 
expedient that an official organ should be published 
in Bloemfontein during the period of Military Gov- 
ernorship. With that end in view, and also to pro- 
vide for public requirements, a small committee 
formed from the corps of war correspondents with 
Lord Roberts' Field Force has been entrusted with 
the control and management of the long-established 
paper hitherto known as The Friend of the Free 

In future this will be issued under the style and 
title of The Friend, and will be a daily publication, 


War's Brighter Side 

containing military intelligence and orders for the 
general information of the troops now quartered 
here, and other matter. 

We are glad to be able to announce the imme- 
diate publication of contributions from the pens of 
such well-known writers as Rudyard Kipling, Julian 
Ralph, Bennet Burleigh, and other distinguished 
journalists. We congratulate our readers upon the 
happy chance which has enabled us to offer the 
public the voluntary services of such a staflF of 
writers as cannot be paralleled elsewhere in South 

In conclusion we wish to state briefly the sim- 
ple policy which will be adhered to in their col- 

The maintenance of British Supremacy in South 
Africa and Equal Rights for all white men without 
respect of race or creed. 

These two principles in our opinion embody 
the essentials of sound government, the pros- 
perity of this country, and the happiness of the 

For the Committee of Management, 

P. Landon, 
E. W. Buxton, 


Mr. Buxton explained to me, with unneces- 
sary but commendable delicacy, that only three 
of our four signatures were appended to this 


Its Infancy 

notice because I was better known as a writer 
than as an editor, and it was deemed best not to 
give me the double credit of serving in both 

The first editorial in this new and unique 
journal was entitled, " Sulk or Duty," and was 
written by Mr. Buxton. It was an appeal to all 
Afrikanders not to sulk, but to " buckle to the 
work of making their country become what it 
shall be, a great and glorious home for countless 
millions yet unborn." The remainder of the page 
was given over to a report of the letter of Kruger 
and Steyn to the Marquis of Salisbury, insisting 
upon the independence of the two Republics, and 
Lord Salisbury's reply that his government was 
" not prepared to assent to the independence of 
either republic." To us of the army this was 
great news. It stirred the camp, and was well 
suited to attract the widest attention to our 
journalistic enterprise. But Lord Salisbury's an- 
swer seemed to us the only answer he could 
make, whereas the comment upon it by a Co- 
lonial writer in The Friend showed a feeling of 
relief and of delighted surprise which was born 
of the bitter disappointments the loyal men of 
Africa had suffered in the past. " Now, at last, 
we know the foundation upon which we shall 
build. The unhappy issue of Lord Wolseley's 
promise at Pretoria in 1879 is still fresh in our 


War's Brighter Side 

minds . . . late, indeed, but still, to the letter, 
that solemn undertaking shall be fulfilled. At 
last we see the one obstacle vanish that has for 
these long years stood between South Africa and 
her prosperity." 

Whoever can feel the spirit of that cry of 
satisfaction needs not to be told how just and 
necessary was the war we were waging. Few of 
us in the army could probe the sources of the war 
to their depths. Comparatively few men in Eng- 
land thoroughly grasped the situation. It is all 
revealed in this shout by Mr. Buxton in The 
Friend. The long-protracted feud between the 
two races, the injustice of Boer rule, the suffer- 
ings of the British, the threats of the semi-civil- 
ised men in power, the past troubles all ending in 
broken promises or shameful neglect by the Brit- 
ish Government — these are all apparent in that 
cry of delight. The war had not produced such 
satisfaction. There had been war before and 
nothing but humiliation of the loyal Uitlander 
had come of it. But a decided, firm declaration 
that the war could only end in British sover- 
eignty — that was news that thrilled the heart of 
every Anglo-Saxon colonial in the republics and 
the adjacent colonies. 

Other articles and official notices of the first 
interest or importance were as follows: — 


Its Infancy 


War is grim and fearsome and horrid as we 
know, or rather as we are being continually told, but 
nobody seems to have noticed that there is a humor- 
ous side to it, and sometimes the spectre Death 
wears the cap and bells. Up to the present the cam- 
paign has not been without its little amusing inci- 
dents. In the camp they have been quite numerous, 
and even on the battlefield itself they have not been 
unfrequent. The story of a private at Paardeberg 
who lay behind one of those ever-to-be-blessed ant- 
heaps, and contemplating a shattered tibia, ex- 
claimed, addressing the injured member, " Well, 
you ain't done me badly after all. You 'elped to 
carry me 'ere, and now you've got me a life pen- 
sion and free baccy from the parson," has the merit 
of being true. One cannot refrain a smile at the 
soliloquy of another private who wished to exhibit 
a bullet-riddled helmet to his friends at home. He 
was firing from behind a big boulder on which he 
placed his helmet. The inevitable shower of bullets 
followed, but as has been so often the case with Boer 
marksmen, not a single one touched the helmet, but 
one " fetched " its owner in the shoulder, whereupon 
he took the helmet from its exposed position, and, 
looking at his bleeding shoulder, remarked, " that 
comes of cursed pride and nothing else." 

The removal of all badges of rank from officers 
has been the source of many amusing mistakes. On 


War's Brighter Side 

the march from Poplar Grove here, it is related 
that a certain general officer was returning to camp 
after a terribly hard dusty dry day. A subaltern of 
the A.S.C. sat under his canvas awning, and thus ad- 
dressed this distinguished general, " Now look here, 

if this happens again I'm d d if I don't report 

you. For the last two hours you have been away, 
and heaven knows what the mules are up to." It is 
true it was dusk, but that was hardly a sufficient 

excuse for mistaking General for a conductor. 

" I say, old cocky," was the remark made once by a 
captain to a full colonel, " hadn't you better see 
about getting some grub ? " Apologies followed, of 

Then who can resist laughing at the tale of woe 
unfolded by one of our most distinguished corre- 
spondents who dined one night with the 

Guards and slept in the tent of his host ? The next 
morning he walked into the mess hut and sat down 
to breakfast. But imagine the trembling horror 
which seized hold of him when he looked round 
at his hosts of the night before and failed to recog- 
nise a single one of them. Was it a failure of mem- 
ory, or was it incipient paralysis of the brain? — it 
could not, of course, have been the whisky. And so 
he sat in a bath of hot and cold perspiration, think- 
ing that the blow which had so often attacked and 
destroyed fine intellects had reached his. But sud- 
den as a straw is whisked past the drowning man 
by the fast current, so there passed through his 
brain one ray of hope. He remembered the name 


Its Infancy 

of his host, and turning quickly to his neighbour, 
fearing lest his brain might again fail him and he 

should forget the name, asked, "Where is ?" 

The answer was a relief and yet a horror, " is 

having breakfast in the mess tent of his battalion," 
— and, pointing through the door, " there it is over 
there." It was with slow, sobered steps that our 
correspondent left the table and made his way to the 
hut of his host. He had made what, after all, was 
not an uncommon error, and had mistaken the 
S Guards' hut for that of the C- Guards. 

Facts and Otherwise 

Mr. Arthur Barlow has resigned his position as 

editor of The Friend. 

* * 

Original contributions and correspondence are 

invited from all ranks of the Field Force. 

As in all probability the territory hitherto known 
as the O.F.S. will in the near future be designated 
by a different title, the Committee of Management 
ofifer a prize of £5 for the best suggestion for re- 
naming this country. 


On the afternoon of Monday, the 26th February, 
the 6-in. howitzers bombarded Gen. Cronje's laager 


War's Brighter Side 

at Paardeberg with Lyddite shells. The effect of 
the salvos • viewed from a distance of 3,000 yards 
was terrific. What the occupants of the laager felt 
cannot be told, for the reason that no truthful ac- 
count is obtainable. The explosions in appear- 
ance were not unlike the great dynamite explosion 
in Johannesburg in 1896, only the great cloud of 
smoke was greenish-yellow instead of grey. An air 
of expectancy pervaded the British camp, every one 
knowing that the morrow was Majuba Day, and it 
was thought that something decisive would be done. 
Early next morning, about 3 o'clock, the silence of 
the night was broken by the softened spit-puff sound 
of the Mauser rifle, and immediately after the firing 
became a fierce fusilade, the sharp crack of the Lee- 
Metford joining in. The crackling concert lasted 
about an hour, rising and falling with sudden acute 
crises like a passage of Wagner's music. Bullets 
were falling around the camp at distances up to 
3,000 yards, from the Boer laager, and it was evi- 
dent that the firing was wild. 

At first streak of dawn a ride to the advanced 
trenches of the Canadians on the river bank enabled 
one to learn the wherefore of the night's disturb- 
ance. The ambulance waggons were already pro- 
ceeding quickly up the south bank of the river. A 
pontoon ferry was plying from bank to bank bring- 
ing across wounded Canadians, nearly all suffering 
from bullet wounds, but some few had by accident 
been struck by the bayonet. 

The Canadians occupied trenches on both banks 


Its Infancy 

of the river, and were within about 500 yards of 
the enemy. On their left — that is some distance 
north of the river — were the Gordons, and further 
to the south the Shropshires. The orders were that 
the four companies of Canadians in the north bank 
should advance under cover of the darkness and try 
to gain the enemy's trenches, or at least get nearer. 
They advanced in two lines of two companies each, 
the front line having bayonets fixed and the second 
carrying rifles slung with picks and shovels in their 
hands to dig an advanced trench, should it be 
thought advisable to go right to the trenches. 

When the Canadians left the Gordons were to 
occupy the left of their trenches, and the Shrop- 
shires placed in advance in a position to command 
the Boers, should they rise in their trenches to fire 
on the Canadians. They were told to hold their 
fire until the Mausers first spoke. The Canadians 
and Gordons were not to fire at all. The operation 
was one requiring coolness, nerve, and pluck, and 
the Canadians did it magnificently. They advanced 
as quietly as possible about 400 yards, and then 
halted, the order being conveyed by pressure of 
the hand from one to another. Every one thought 
that the second line would now dig the trench, but 
another pressure ordered a further advance. Five 
paces had been covered when Mauser bullets hissed 
past, and the men, as ordered, fell flat, just in time 
to avoid the terrific fire that was immediately poured 
from the Boer trenches. A minute or two elapsed, 
and the order came to retire. Not a shot was fired 


War's Brighter Side 

by the Canadians, and they quietly crept back, gain- 
ing their trenches with comparatively little loss. 
Meanwhile the Shropshire men, who had carefully 
taken the range and direction before dark, opened 
fire on the Boers, and at the end of an hour put them 
to silence. A bugle sounded " cease fire," and all 
was still again. That morning (Majuba Day) Cronje 



The British troops under my command having 
entered the Orange Free State, I feel it my duty 
to make known to all Burghers the cause of our 
coming, as well as to do all in my power to put an 
end to the devastation caused by this war, so that 
should they continue the war the inhabitants of the 
Orange Free State may not do so ignorantly, but 
with full knowledge of their responsibility before 
God for the lives lost in the campaign. 

Before the war began the British Government, 
which had always desired and cultivated peace and 
friendship with the people of the Orange Free State, 
gave a solemn assurance to President Steyn that if 
the Orange Free State remained neutral its territory 
would not be invaded, and its independence would 
be at all times fully respected by Her Majesty's 

In spite of that declaration the Government of 
the Orange Free State was guilty of a wanton and 
unjustifiable invasion of British territory. 


Its Infancy 

The British Government beHeves that this act 
of aggression was not committed with the general 
approval and free will of a people with whom it has 
lived in complete amity for so many years. It be- 
lieves that the responsibility rests wholly with the 
Government of the Orange Free State, acting, not 
in the interests of the country, but under mis- 
chievous influences from without. The British 
Government, therefore, wishes the people of the 
Orange Free State to understand that it bears them 
no ill-will, and, so far as is compatible with the suc- 
cessful conduct of the war and the re-establishment 
of peace in South Africa, it is anxious to preserve 
them from the evils brought upon them by the 
wrongful action of their Government. 

I therefore warn all Burghers to desist from any 
further hostility towards Her Majesty's Government 
and the troops under my command, and I undertake 
that any of them who may so desist and who are 
found staying in their homes and quietly pursuing 
their ordinary occupations will not be made to suffer 
in their persons or property on account of their 
having taken up arms in obedience to the order of 
their Government. Those, however, who oppose 
the forces under my command, or furnish the enemy 
with supplies or information, will be dealt with ac- 
cording to the customs of war. 

Requisitions for food, forage, fuel, or shelter 
made on the authority of the officers in command 
of Her Majesty's troops, must be at once complied 
with ; but everything will be paid for on the spot, 

4 31 

War's Brighter Side 

prices being regulated by the local market rates. If 
the inhabitants of any district refuse to comply with 
the demands made upon them the supplies will be 
taken by force, a full receipt being given. 

Should any inhabitant of the country consider 
that he or any member of his household has been 
unjustly treated by any officer, soldier, or civilian 
attached to the British Army he should submit his 
complaint, either personally or in writing, to my 
Headquarters or to the Headquarters of the nearest 
General Officer. Should the complaint on enquiry 
be substantiated, redress will be given. 

Orders have been issued by me prohibiting sol- 
diers from entering private houses or molesting the 
civil population on any pretext whatever, and every 
precaution has been taken against injury to property 
on the part of any person belonging to, or connected 
with, the Army. 


Field Marshal, 
Commanding-in-Chief, South Africa. 



Mr. Kipling makes His First Appearance 

A Costly Sheet — Lines by Kipling — The Steynless 
City — A Love Letter — Exciting Experiences 

Cup Tips and ) THE FRIEND. ( Playing Cards. 
Wafers \ \ All Qualities at 

at Barlow's. ) 3d. 3d. ( Barlow's. 

{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Forces^ 

The above was hereafter to be the wording of 
the full title of the new paper. It was again of 
the small size, necessitated by the infirm and 
petty possibilities of the dust-heap in which it 
was produced. 

In this second number appeared a verse of a 
poem by Rudyard Kipling, who, unknown to us 
and unsuspected by himself, was soon to be so 
closely connected with our enterprise. As soon 
as we agreed to take control of the new paper, 
Mr. Landon had wired the news to Mr. Kip- 
ling, then in Capetown, with a request for a con- 
tribution for the first number. The fact that the 
poetic reply reached Bloemfontein twenty-four 
hours later was a matter of delight and surprise 
to all of us, for the chained lightning of the wired 
highway of correspondence loses its chief charac- 


War's Brighter Side 

teristic of speed where the mihtary make first 
use of it in time of war. 

I should not Hke even to imagine the disgust 
with which some of the lower order of censors, 
at terminal and junctional points, viewed this bit 
of poetry as it crawled along and they were called 
upon to approve it, perhaps, as " unseditious 
matter not calculated to give information to the 
enemy." But then I do not like to think of that 
breed of censors under any circumstances. It 
wrinkles my temper. 

Mr. Landon's journalistic enterprise not only 
turned the eyes of all the Kipling collectors of 
the world upon our newspaper, but because our 
printers left the date line " March i6 " unal- 
tered on an inside page of this number of the 
17th, that issue became a curio among our read- 
ers. On the next day copies of the first hundred 
papers, which were issued before the mistake was 
noticed, fetched five shillings. Within a month 
their price was twenty-five shillings. But that is 
only a twentieth part of what an odd and not spe- 
cially distinguished number of The Friend sold 
for at a bazaar in London last summer (1900). 

Mr. Landon wrote a notable and brilliant 
editorial on "The Collapse of the Rebellion"; 
General Smith-Dorrien replied to the remarks 
about the Canadians at Paardeberg in the previ- 
ous day's issue; Lord Roberts's congratulation 


Mr. Kipling's First Appearance 

to the Army was published in this number; and 
there also appeared my " love letter to Miss 

As this love-correspondence attracted great 
interest then and was peculiar in its commence- 
ment, continuation, and end, I will tell, briefly, 
what the facts are concerning it. I was in- 
valided and confined to my bedroom in the Free 
State Hotel, and being advertised as a contribu- 
tor, bethought me that it would be a graceful and 
pleasant thing to act as spokesman for the army 
in praising the pretty town, and acknowledging 
the gratitude we felt to the people for their 
friendly behaviour to us conquerors. 

I did not know at that time that the town 
was a pestilential, bacillus-soaked headquarters 
for disease, or that far too many of those who 
smiled upon us hated us bitterly, and were even 
then engaged in encouraging the Boers, con- 
veying information to them, and sneaking out 
at night to fight with the enemy or to snipe our 
outposts. In a word, though I had studied the 
Boer more closely and longer than any other 
London correspondent, I had not measured the 
breadth and depth of his contempt for truth, 
honour, and fair play. Therefore I wrote the 
letter to Miss Bloemfontein which, with the 
other notable contributions to that day's paper, 
is herewith republished. 


War's Brighter Side 

On this day the advertisements for what were 
then called " lost " horses already numbered 
three, and, already, we published a communica- 
tion headed *' Loot News " in which was stated 
the fact that the horse-stealing had become so 
bold that a horse had actually been taken from in 
front of the Club. 

" Please note the following," the reporter 
wrote, " Section i, clause i, of the newly promul- 
gated constitution of the city without a Steyn 
— A man may kill a man and live, but a man who 
steals a horse may not hve." Whether there will 
occur an opportunity in this book to explain how 
the neighbourhood of the Boers affected the 
moral atmosphere and demoralised our earlier 
views of property rights, especially in horse-own- 
ership, I cannot yet say, but whenever the tale is 
told it will be discovered to be extraordinary. 


{^Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Forces^ 

March 17, 1900 
St. Patrick's Day 
Oh! Terence dear, and did you hear 

The news that's going round? 
The shamrock's Erin's badge by law. 
Where'er her sons be found. 

Mr. Kipling's First Appearance 

From Bobsfontein to Ballyhock 

'Tis ordered by the Queen, 
We've won our right in open fight 

The wearing of the Green. 

Loot News 

Absent-minded beggars please note following 
intimations displayed at the Club House, Market 
Square : — 

Taken from a boy in front of the Club on 15th 
inst, about 7 p.m., a bay gelding, about thirteen 
hands, star on forehead, white patch on top lip, 
tick marks on hind quarters, long tail trimmed 
square, branded R G off forehoof. A 15 near fore- 

Will the gentleman who took a brown pony by 
mistake from a boy at the door of this Club-house 
on March 15 kindly return it to manager? 

Also please note following : — 

Section i, clause i, of newly-promulgated con- 
stitution of the City without a Steyn — A man may 
kill a man and live, but a man that steals a horse 
may not live. 

The Late Presidency 

The official Headquarters of Field-Marshal Lord 
Roberts and his staff are at the Residency. 


War's Brighter Side 



Come, little Miss Bloemfontein, sit down beside 
me and let me hold your dimpled hand and look 
into those eyes which have caught the wonderful 
blue of these heavens, and the tints of your gardens 
and your bowery streets. I think our whole army 
Hkes you, you belle of the Boer aristocracy. You 
certainly change your lovers easily and lightly, but 
soldiers are reported not to mind a little coquetry 
when they are far from home. You have tripped 
out to meet us so enticingly, you have so led us into 
your bower with your warm little hand, and you 
have spoken so kindly to us, that we dislike to think 
you were quite the same to your earlier beaux in 
their homespun suits, their flapping hats, and their 
lavish indulgence in whiskers and beards, which, as 
you must know, are the cheapest of luxuries — pro- 
digalities in which misers indulge to make a show 
and save a barber's bill. 

You might have been hateful to us and we could 
not have blamed you, for we came too nearly, as 
certain other soldiers came to the Sabine sisterhood, 
with blood in our eyes and weapons in hand, fancy- 
ing that you would cling to your old love, and never 
dreaming that he would run away and leave you 
unprotected in this placid and pretty little boudoir 
that you have set up here. You won't forget that 
little episode, will you, Miss Bloemfontein? And 
you did take note, didn't you, my dear, that when 


Mr. Kipling's First Appearance 

we found you deserted, all forlorn, we changed from 
Hon to lamb, from blustering warrior to soft-spoken 
wooer? We spoke no harsh word to your people 
and did their goods no violence. Even now, we 
stand aside in our own place, crowding none of 
your servitors, but smiling back the smiles you 
bathe us in, and breathing our admiration softly — 
for you are a pretty miss and gentle — and we are not 
so stupid as to fail to see that you are no Boadicea, 
but a lover of peace and concord, if ever one has 
lived on earth since the muses took to the clouds. 
Sweetness of loving sighs its soft song of delight in 
every breeze that rustles the leaves of your tree- 
garlands. Domesticity asserts its command, by 
your order, in the aspect of every cottage in your 
park-like nest. Homely comfort radiates from the 
hearths and the faces of all who live under your 
delightful rule. 

I never anywhere saw a prettier or a more as- 
tonishing scene than I witnessed in your market- 
square on the second night of the stay, which we 
hope you will invite us to prolong to eternity. We 
sent a few greasy and stained melodists with pipes 
and drums to play in the square, partly to show you 
that we had dethroned Mars and substituted Pan in 
the best niche in our hearts, and partly to set our 
own pleasure tripping to gay tunes. And lo ! out 
you came with your maidens and their lovers, your 
old men and matrons, and the children within your 
gates. And we all forgot that we had quarrelled 
with your cast-ofT favourite, that each of us had 


War's Brighter Side 

shed the other's blood, and that we had come to 
you with an anger that we supposed you matched 
within your own fair bosom. Your people and ours 
touched elbows and laughed and sang together. 
For one I was amazed. Of all the sharp contrasts 
of strife I know of none so bold and strong as that 
scene when it was compared with the scenes of only 
a few days back at Paardeberg and Driefontein. 

It was your magic, your witchery, your tact that 
brought it about, you South African beauty. With- 
out these helps we never could have enjoyed that 
evening as we did, and that evening was the bridge 
that spanned the gulf between the angry past and 
the happy future in our lives, little miss. 

Draw closer, Miss Bloemfontein. Let our arms 
touch, and the thrill of ardent friendship vivify our 
new relation. You do like us British, don't you, 
dear? You don't have to be British yourself, you 
know. You can stay on being Dutch and piously 
Presbyterian and all the rest. We will respect what- 
ever you admire, and we will promise to make you 
richer, freer, happier and even more beautiful — with 
the ripened charms of a long-assured content, if 
only you will let your chief predikant publish the 
banns next Sunday — or sooner, if you will. 

Julian Ralph. 


A recent experience of Mr. Bennet Burleigh and 
his colleague, Mr. Percy Bullen, of the Daily 


Mr. Kipling's First Appearance 

Telegraph, affords a fitting illustration of the dangers 
to which those attached to Field Forces are ex- 
posed. These two gentlemen left Poplar Grove last 
Saturday with the object of reaching General Kelly- 
Kenny's column, which had preceded them by sev- 
eral hours travelling along the high road running 
almost parallel with the Modder River. Near 
Abrahamskraal they caught sight of the central di- 
vision fighting the Boers along the kopjes lying to 
the right. Mr. Burleigh, who was travelling in a 
Cape cart drawn by four horses, stepped down to 
survey matters, and while looking through his 
glasses along the high road he saw a party of Boers 
digging trenches. Some of them wore khaki, others 
were dressed in a style of the country, which be- 
trayed their identity to the experienced eye. It was 
decided to return by the same road, further progress 
being obviously very hazardous, as the enemy was 
within a distance of 500 yards. The two carts occu- 
pied by the correspondents had barely turned round 
when a shower of bullets was sent in their direction, 
several striking Mr. Burleigh's vehicle, and others 
falling immediately in front of Mr, Bullen. A des- 
perate race followed over a distance of several miles, 
in the course of which a convoy of several mule 
waggons was met. The officer in charge ordered 
the convoy to return immediately, and his instruc- 
tions were quickly followed. Meantime a messen- 
ger was sent across to the central division to ask for 
assistance, as the Boers, though a considerable dis- 
tance behind, were still shooting. By dint of hard 


War's Brighter Side 

work and much lashing of horses and mules, every- 
one got safely away, but one of Mr. Bullen's team 
fell a victim to the enemy's fire. Fortunately the 
shot came from across the river, and the remaining 
animal, though sorely tried by the boulders and 
sluits of a bad road over which the whole of the con- 
voy and escort had likewise proceeded at a break- 
neck pace, was able to pull the cart out upon the 
veldt and so elude further damage. By this time 
some of Rimington's scouts appeared, and one of 
the number kindly lent the correspondent his horse, 
by means of which he was able to rejoin his col- 
league at Poplar Grove, where the entire party 
passed the night. It was an exciting chase ex- 
tending over several miles, and the safety of the 
correspondents and convoy was largely due to the 
zeal of the native drivers, who worked as if life as 
well as liberty depended on the result. The huge 
column of dust thrown up by the carts and horses 
was sufficient to baffle even the most expert rifle- 
men, and the Boers who pursued were certainly not 
good shots even at close quarters. In order to 
assist his flight Mr. Bullen jettisoned a large quan- 
tity of horse fodder, whereas his experienced col- 
league, Mr. Burleigh, arrived in camp with all his 
goods intact, including a live sheep. It transpired 
subsequently that the messenger despatched for as- 
sistance, as well as two others who followed him, 
were captured. The correspondents state that the 
skill displayed by their drivers in avoiding the huge 
boulders which lined the high road, and especially 


Mr. Kipling's First Appearance 

in descending and ascending the banks of a very 
precipitous sluit with a twelve feet dip, was a most 
creditable performance, reminding one of the won- 
derful exercises of our artillery drivers at the Is- 
lington Military Tournament. 



Bloemfontein, March 17, 1900. 
To the Editor of " The Friend." 

Dear Sir, — I have read your account of " The 
Canadians on Majuba Day " in your issue of yes- 
terday. It is correct up to a certain point, but the 
last part of it is quite erroneous. 

In justice to this gallant corps, and to the Com- 
pany of Royal Engineers who were with them, I 
trust you will publish this letter — which recounts 
what actually happened from the moment the Royal 
Canadians advanced from the trench, 550 yards from 
the enemy, until they established themselves and 
made a new trench within 93 yards of the Boer 

At 2.15 a.m. (on the 27th February), the Royal 
Canadians with 240 men in the front rank, the latter 
with rifles slung and entrenching tools, and about 
30 officers and men. Royal Engineers under Lieut.- 
Colonel Kincaid forming the right of the rear rank 


War's Brighter Side 

of the Canadians, moved steadily from the trench, 
shoulder to shoulder in the dark night, feeling their 
way through the bushes, and keeping touch by the 

At 2.50 a.m. they were met by a terrific fire from 
the enemy's trench, now only 60 yards in front of 

The line was forced to fall back, but only a very 
small distance, the right of it under Captain Stairs 
and Macdonell, Royal Canadians, some twenty 
yards, where they lay down in the open and returned 
a steady fire — mostly volleys — for the next one and 
a half hours ; the left had had to fall back rather 

Under cover of these two Captains, Lieutenant- 
Colonel Kincaid and his R.E. officer and men, and 
the Canadian working party in that part of the line 
constructed trenches in spite of the galling fire, and 
by daylight had completed a most admirable work 
which gave grand cover against fire in all threat- 
ened directions, and was so well traversed with 
banks and sand-bags that not a single casualty oc- 
curred after it was occupied. 

As day dawned a ruined house was noticed on 
the opposite bank of the river, from which this 
work could be enfiladed, and a party from the re- 
serve was sent up the left bank to occupy it. 

To cover the early morning attack as soon as the 
fire opened at 2.50 a.m., the Shropshires, in order 
to hold the enemy in the main laager, engaged them 
with long-range volleys, whilst the Gordons re- 


Mr. Kipling's First Appearance 

mained partly in the open and partly in the most ad- 
vanced flank trench, which latter they lengthened 
and enlarged, ready to move forward in support. 

Shortly after daylight a white flag was flying in 
the Boer trench, which was 93 yards from our 
newly-constructed trench, and soon the Boers came 
trooping into our line. They stated that they had 
no orders from General Cronje to surrender, but 
that they heard he intended to give in on the 28th 

The result, however, of this gallant operation was 
that General Cronje altered his date one day earlier. 

Your account says that our losses were com- 
paratively small ; so they were for the results 
gained, and considering the heavy fire which con- 
tinued for nearly two hours at 80 yards' range. 
They only amounted to 45 casualties in the Brigade 
— thus, 12 N.C.O.'s and men Royal Canadians 
killed, 30 N.C.O.'s and men Royal Canadians 
wounded, and 3 officers wounded. Major Pelletier 
and Lieut. Armstrong, Royal Canadians, and Lieut. 
Atchison, King's Shropshire Light Infantry — a 
fold in the ground exactly covered the spot where 
the party was working, hence the absence of cas- 
ualties in the Royal Engineers, and the slight losses 
in the working party of Royal Canadians. 
Yours faithfully, 

H. L. Smith-Dorrien, 
Major-General, Commanding 19th Brigade. 

(We are glad to be able to supplement our con- 
tributor's account of the gallant action of the 27th 


War's Brighter Side 

by General Smith-Dorrien's categorical letter which 
supplies details which could hardly be obtained ac- 
curately at second-hand. — Eds. Friend.) 

While scouting at Makouw's Drift, two troopers 
of Rimington's Guides were fired on from a small 
kopje at close range. One had his horse shot, and 
the other, young Ewan Christian, son of Mr. H. B. 
Christian, of Port Elizabeth, rode back to bring him 
away. As he was bending down to help his com- 
rade up behind he was himself fatally shot, the bullet 
passing through his back and out through his chest. 
He rolled ofif his horse and told his comrade to 
mount and ride away. Shortly • afterwards Major 
Rimington and more men came up and heard the 
last words of the dying hero : " Tell my old gov- 
ernor that I died game." On retiring the party 
were under a hot fire, several horses, including that 
of Major Rimington, being shot. Mr, Christian 
was buried with military honours. 



We Begin to Feel at Home 

A Strange Editorial Adventure — Lord Roberts's 
New Government under Way — The Sin of 
Horse Theft 

Once, far along the Grand Canal in China, 
where the people were all afraid or hostile at the 
first sight of me, a beautiful girl of sixteen or 
seventeen ran along the bank of the canal after 
my boat, beckoning to me and to Mr. Weldon, 
the artist, who was with me, to disembark and 
visit her home. She was out walking with her 
mother. There was no doubt when one consid- 
ered how far from any big town she was, and the 
fact that she was largefooted and willing to be 
seen of men, that she was a poor peasant girl, a 
farmer's daughter, either curious to see us 
strange men, or anxious to prove herself a Chris- 
tian convert and to repay the hospitality and 
kindness she had received at the hands of Chris- 
tian missionaries. 

. 47 

War's Brighter Side 

That was what I thought, at any rate, and in 
that view I told of the happening in Harper's 
Magasine. At once a cry arose, in the companies 
of men I met and even in some newspapers as 
well, against my introducing so risque a subject 
in my account of my adventures. Until then I 
had no idea how prone to evil-thinking is the 
world, how anxious to twist impurity out of in- 
nocence even though it required violence to do it. 

Once again, and here, I am going to tell of 
an incident equally sweet to memory and the 
reflection of wholesome minds; equally delicate 
in the perfume of innocence which it exhales. 
After the second issue of The Friend, Sunday 
gave us a day of rest. We had known and seen 
no women for months. They were to us as our 
homes were, as London was — mere memories, 
vague and shadowy, beside the substantial reali- 
ties of fighting, marching, thirsting, and going 
hungry in the company of men — of men by the 
tens of thousands, but of no women. 

There was in Bloemfontein a very blond 
young woman of sixteen who served behind the 
counter of a shop in the main street — a slight, 
sunny-haired, blue-eyed miss, sparkling with fun 
and excited by the novelty of waiting upon Brit- 
ish soldiers and living in the middle of what had 
changed from a dead-and-alive Boer village to a 
great armed British camp. The soldiers had 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

noticed her as well. Generals and colonels com- 
pared notes of what gossip she and they had ex- 
changed, and sent their friends to the shop to 
see her. The appearance of a few unattractive 
women among the soldiers in the village streets 
had made a mild sensation, but the discovery of 
a fair-haired, rosy-cheeked girl of English blood 
was the talk of the camp. 

Among the first men in Bloemfontein and the 
first to make the acquaintance of this maiden 
was Mr. Gwynne, of The Friend. Foreseeing 
Sunday, and scenting a chance to revive the best 
memories of civilised life, he proposed to gather 
two army friends if she would invite two of her 
feminine friends for a drive and a luncheon on 
the veldt on Sunday. He invited James Barnes, 
a talented American correspondent, and myself. 
In two Cape carts we called for the young ladies 
at their homes. They proved to be the very 
blond young woman, a fourteen-year-old friend, 
and a little girl of ten or eleven years of age. 

I confess that I never would have asked mere 
children upon such an outing, but it is equally 
true that I could not have experienced either the 
same or as great and peculiar pleasure with others 
of older growth. They were frank and free, and 
merry as grigs. They came as near to having 
us killed or captured by the Boers as I wanted 
to be, and from them we learned most interesting 


War's Brighter Side 

and valuable information about the enemy and 
about the town as it was before we captured it. 
We proposed to visit the home of one of the 
girls, a farm which the girls said was " quite 
close." It proved to be miles beyond the British 
outposts in a country that seemed to us to be 
uncomfortably peopled with Boers and which 
proved afterwards to have been alive with them. 
Of the danger to us which lay in such a situa- 
tion the girls took no account. They had been 
born there. They had seen nothing of war, and 
did not understand it. The Boers were their 
lifelong neighbours. And, in a word, they were 
going to visit friends and to have fun, and noth- 
ing else entered their minds. 

When we were miles away and among some 
very suggestive little kopjes we discovered that 
our friends had lost their way and that we were 
adrift on the veldt. Boers dashed up to the 
crests of the hills, saw us and disappeared. Boers 
were on every hand. Why we were not gobbled 
up and sent to Pretoria none of us can explain. 
Eventually, with only one mishap — the over- 
turning of one of the carts — which seemed for 
a moment more terrible than capture by the 
enemy — we reached the farmhouse, and aided 
by several tiny boys and the farmer and his wife, 
spent a happy hour and a half. We made our 
w^ay back to Bloemfontein in the evening, and 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

within a day or two Colonels Crabbe and Cod- 
rington and Captain Trotter were wounded and 
the Honourable Edward Lygon was killed, at the 
Glen — a rifle shot from where we had picnicked! 

The adventures and hairbreadth escapes in 
war are apt to take only three or four well-or- 
dered forms. This adventure was in no way like 
those of the stereotyped kinds. 

Monday came, and, with it, the third number 
of The Friend. It was now of the enlarged 
size, which it retained to the end — a sheet 19 
inches wide by 32 inches in length. We con- 
tinued to do the editorial work in the old dust- 
bin, as at first, but we had discovered that the 
Express works were more modern and capable 
of turning out a paper of the size we preferred. 
The Express works were two blocks away from 
our little den, in a side street behind the main 
thoroughfare of the town. They belonged to 
Frau Borckenhagen, but had been seized by 
order of Lord Roberts and sealed up. The print- 
ing office and engine and press rooms were after- 
ward made over to us, the bindery was used by 
the military, and only the ofifice of the departed 
editor, whence had proceeded the most mischiev- 
ous reflections of Krugerism and the policy of 
the insidious Afrikander Bond, remained sealed. 
Frau Borckenhagen sent her agents to the mili- 
tary to ask leave to recover some of her hus- 


War's Brighter Side 

band's private papers. By this means she showed 
us that, like all other Boers, she put the very- 
lowest valuation upon our intelligence. But in 
this case she only succeeded in turning the at- 
tention of the military to her husband's papers 
without getting the shading of a degree nearer 
to the possession of what must have been — and 
I think I have heard, really proved — of the ut- 
most interest to us. 

However, we were able by using the com- 
mandeered property of the Boer frau, to produce 
a newspaper of pretentious size and considerable 

The Friend now began to bristle with proc- 
lamations, and their number appeared to be 
doubled because each one was repeated in the 
Taal language under the heading " Proclamatie." 
In one " I, Frederick Sleigh Baron Roberts of 
Kandahar, K.P., G.C.B., G.C.S.I., G.C.I.E., 
V.C., Field Marshal and Commanding-in-Chief 
the British forces in South Africa, appoint 
George Anosi Falck Administrator of the Civil 
Posts and Telegraphs in such portions of the 
Orange Free State as have been or may hereafter 
be occupied by British troops." 

Another proclamation related to bills of ex- 
change and promissory notes; and a third, by 
General Pretyman, appointed James Allison Col- 
lins as " Landdrost of Bloemfontein to administer 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

the ordinary civil and criminal laws." In this 
proclamation the landdrost's court was ordered 
to resume its work on Monday, March 19th. A 
district surgeon, clerk, receiver, and second clerk 
to the landdrost's court were also appointed. 

General Pretyman extended his original mar- 
ket proclamation as that it established the ruling 
prices of cattle, meat, breadstuffs, and groceries. 
In the proclamation as translated into the Taal, 
Lord Roberts was declared to be " Ik (I), Fred- 
erick Sleigh Baron Roberts van Kandahar, K.P., 
G.C.B., G.C.S.I., G.C.I.E., V.C., Veld-maar- 
schalk, Opperbevelhebber van de Britsche 
Krijgsmachten in Zuid-Afrika." 

In a notice to the Army we said that our 
chief aim was to make the paper welcome to and 
supported by all ranks, and we invited all in the 
Army to write for us. It is true that when, in 
the previous day's issue, we published a poetic 
contribution by a kind friend, who was the first 
to come to our assistance, we did not precisely 
encourage others to follow his example. On the 
contrary, we accompanied the verses with the 
remark to the writer, "Your verses are execrable. 
See for yourself in print." But this was merely 
one of the many interesting peculiarities of the 
paper. We offered a prize of £5 for the best sug- 
gestion of a new name for the colony, as has been 
already noted; and we published the fact that 


War's Brighter Side 

Miss Elliott, daughter of the General Manager 
of the Cape Government Railways, arrived with 
her father by special train on the previous night, 
and was the first lady to cross the Free State 
border and to visit Bloemfontein. The editorial 
of the day was by Mr. Buxton, and was entitled 
" Uitlander or Rebel, Subject or Burgher." 

The most notable article was called " The 
Confession of a Horse-stealer," and was written 
by one of the editors. In the same number an- 
other member of the editorial quartette wrote a 
strong little article calling attention to the preva- 
lence and brazenness of horse thieves, and de- 
ploring the facts in earnest and indignant lan- 
guage. I was now at work at a desk in the edi- 
torial room, and was forced to act as judge be- 
tween the outraged virtue of my colleague who 
detested horse-stealing and the pained surprise of 
my other colleague who (shall I say pretended 
or) confessed in writing that he was an expert at 
the crime. 

" Surely you agree with me that this thing 
has got to stop? " said the one editor. 

" Surely you will not allow such canting non- 
sense to go into the paper? " said the other, 
" especially where the entire army has become 
adept at the practice of looting Boer horses or 
exchanging worn-out steeds for the fresher ones 
of friends." 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

Being a born diplomat I agreed with both 
my colleagues, praised both their articles, and 
voted that both should ornament the columns of 
The Friend. 

I was in a position to behave with this im- 
partiality. My character and reputation at home 
forced me to the side of the indignant moraHst, 
and yet, on the other hand, certain episodes in 
my recent experience inclined me to view the 
confessions of the horse-stealer with leniency. 
More than once I had been forced to choose be- 
tween walking for days in the enemy's country 
or utilising horses that had been abandoned by 
the Boers. If I were again placed in such a posi- 
tion I would surrender myself a prisoner to the 
Boers rather than touch even a Httle thing like 
a horse that did not belong to me. I have had 
time to reflect, and I see how weak I was; but at 
that time I was in the Boer country where steal- 
ing is called " commandeering," and seems a 
trifling thing, rather creditable if practised suc- 
cessfully and with a high hand. In justification 
of my course in commending the high moral 
view of my other colleague, I could say with 
pride that the horses I had taken were both dead, 
and my character was thus lifted above reproach. 

The happy combination of these points in 
common with both my colleagues, enabled me 
to publish both their articles and bring them 


War's Brighter Side 

back to the friendliest terms. So successful was 
I that we allowed our feelings to carry us beyond 
the bounds of reason — that is to say that we 
agreed to go to the Club and take a drink. It 
was a thing which no intelligent man would 
lightly agree to do. The only liquid refresh- 
ments then obtainable at the Club were enteric 
germs in water, gin, vermouth, and port wine. 
It required an occasion of the first importance 
to induce any of us to go to the Club, which was 
always as crowded with officers as an egg is with 
meat. All day, and until late in the evening, 
the principal apartment barely afforded standing 
room. The porch was equally well filled, and 
horses in dozens were tethered before the house. 
It was the social exchange and rendezvous of 
the officers of something like 80,000 men, and I 
can hardly believe that anywhere in the world 
was there a club-house so constantly crowded. 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts^ Force!) 


Whereas it is deemed expedient and necessary 
for the welfare of the Orange Free State that Postal 
and Telegraph Services shall be resumed in the 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

aforesaid Republic, as far as circumstances permit, 


I, Frederick Sleigh Baron Roberts of 
Khandahar, K.P., G.C.B., G.C.S.I., G.C.I.E., V.C, 
Field Marshal and Commanding-in-Chief of the 
British Forces in South Africa, do hereby nominate 
and appoint David George Anosi Falck Adminis- 
trator of the Civil Posts and Telegraphs in such 
portions of the Orange Free State as have been, or 
may hereafter be occupied by British troops. And I 
do hereby order that the Postal and Telegraph serv- 
ices shall be resumed in the portions of the aforesaid 
Republic already referred to, from the nineteenth 
day of March, 1900, under the existing Laws and 
Conventions of the Orange Free State, subject to 
such alterations as may from time to time be notified. 

Given under my hand at Bloemfontein this Sev- 
enteenth Day of March, 1900. 

god save the queen. 

Commanding-in-Chief British Forces, South Africa. 


Army Headquarters, Government House, 
Bloemfontein, March 15, 1900. 

I. Civil Population to be unmolested. 

It being desirable and in the interest of both the 
British Government and the inhabitants of this 


War's Brighter Side 

country that all residents should be assured that, 
so long as they remain peaceably disposed, their 
civil rights and property will be respected, it is 
strictly forbidden that any private property should 
be compulsorily taken possession of by other than 
the authorised Supply Officers. 

All articles required by the troops must be 
obtained and paid for in the ordinary way, and 
no trespassing or interference with the inhabitants 
will be permitted. 

These instructions apply to detached bodies of 
troops as well as to the Force generally, and it is 
especially the duty of all officers to put a stop to all 
attempts to infringe them. 

By order, 

J. W. Kelly, 

A.-G. for C. of Stafif. 


Bloemfontein, March 14, 1900. 

It affords the Field Marshal Commanding-in- 
Chief the greatest pleasure in congratulating the 
Army in South Africa on the various events that 
have occurred during the past few weeks, and he 
would specially ofifer his sincere thanks to that 
portion of the Army which, under his immediate 
command, has taken part in the operations resulting 
yesterday in the capture of Bloemfontein. 

On the 1 2th February this force crossed the 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

boundary which divided the Orange Free State 
from British territory. Three days later Kimberley 
was reheved. On the 15th day the bulk of the Boer 
Army in this State, under one of their most trusted 
generals, were made prisoners. On the 17th day 
the news of the relief of Ladysmith was received, 
and on the 13th March, 29 days from the commence- 
ment of the operations, the capital of the Orange 
Free State was occupied. 

This is a record of which any army may well be 
proud — a record which could not have been 
achieved except by earnest, well-disciplined men, 
determined to do their duty and to surmount 
whatever difficulties or dangers might be encoun- 

Exposed to extreme heat by day, bivouacking 
under heavy rain, marching long distances (not 
infrequently with reduced rations), the endurance, 
cheerfulness, and gallantry displayed by all ranks are 
beyond praise, and Lord Roberts feels sure that 
neither Her Majesty the Queen nor the British 
nation will be unmindful of the efTort made by this 
force to uphold the honour of their country. 

The Field Marshal desires especially to refer 
to the fortitude and heroic spirit with which the 
wounded have borne their sufferings. Owing to 
the great extent of country over which modern 
battles have to be fought, it is not always possible to 
afiford immediate aid to those who are struck down ; 
many hours have, indeed, at times, elapsed before 
the wounded could be attended to, but not a word 


War's Brighter Side 

of murmur or complaint has been uttered; the 
anxiety of all, when succour came, was that their 
comrades should be cared for first. 

In assuring every officer and man how much he 
appreciates their efforts in the past. Lord Roberts is 
confident that, in the future, they will continue to 
show the same resolution and soldierly qualities, 
and to lay down their lives, if need be (as so many 
brave men have already done), in order to ensure 
that the war in South Africa may be brought to a 
satisfactory conclusion. 

By order, 
(Sd.) W. F. Kelly, 


Deputy- Adjutant-General, for Chief of Staff. 


Army Headquarters, Government House, 

Bloemfontein, March i6, 1900. 
I. Telegrams. 

The Field Marshal Commanding-in-Chief has 
great pleasure in publishing the following telegrams 
which have been received : — 

(a) From Her Majesty the Queen : " Accept 
my warmest congratulations for yourself and 
those under you on your great success. Trust all 
wounded doing well." — V. R. 

(b) From His Excellency the High Commis- 
sioner : " In a spirit of deep thankfulness I congratu- 
late you and your gallant Army on the rapidity and 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

completeness of success which has attended the 
recent operations — crowned by the occupation of 
the enemy's capital." — Milner. 

(c) From the Rear Admiral Commanding-in- 
Chief, Simonstown : " My personal and Navy's 
heartiest congratulations on your success." — Ad- 

(d) From Chairman of the London County 
Council : " On behalf of Metropolis, whence many 
of your brave soldiers have been drawn, I con- 
gratulate your Lordship's having gloriously reached 
a point which brings you one step nearer towards 
final success and peace." — Dickinson, Chairman of 
the London County Council. 

(e) From the Lord Provost of Glasgow : " The 
Corporation of Glasgow in Council assembled oflfer 
you and Her Majesty's troops under your command 
their hearty congratulations on the success of your 
operations, culminating in your occupation in the 
Capital of the Free State, and their earnest hope for a 
speedy termination of the War." — Lord Provost. 
2. Distinction. 

Referring to Army Order (of March ii, 1900), it 
is notified for information that Her Majesty's orders 
that all Irishmen, whether serving in Irish Regi- 
ments or not, shall be allowed to wear the Sham- 
rock on St. Patrick's Day. 
By order, 

W. Kelly, 

Deputy- Ad j utant-General. 


War's Brighter Side 


The first hundred copies of our last issue — 
Saturday, March 17, were, by accident, wrongly 
dated under the title on the front page. 

The Editors are willing to pay Five Shillings 
each for a few clean copies of this portion of the 


(N.B. — This article is privileged. The Provost Mar- 
shal cannot, therefore, take proceedings against the 

When somewhere about the beginning of De- 
cember I arrived at Modder River, I think I may 
say I was as honest as the generality of mankind. 
I do not remember any incident in my early child- 
hood' and youth which could in any way have been 
cited as a proof that I had predatory instincts. At 
home I never stole, at schools I never stole, at Col- 
leges I never stole, and during several years of 
wandering about the face of the globe I never stole. 
But since I accompanied Lord Roberts' force from 
Enslin to Bloemfontein I have stolen freely, and I 
as freely admit it. Why? Ah, the answer to that 
question involves deep ethical considerations, and 
cannot be answered right off. Let me tell my tale, 
and I fancy that I shall receive the sympathy of most 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

members of the force, and even the Provost Marshal 
will no longer pine to hang me. 

When I left Enslin I was the proud possessor of 
three fine saddle-horses and two decrepit-looking 
but sturdy cart-horses. Now I have to hire a man 
to repeat daily to me the number of my riding- 
horses, and I drive about Bloemfontein with a 
spanking team. I am aware that this confession 
will make the Provost Marshal's hair stand straight 
on his head ; but let him have a little patience. Let 
him think what a glorious thing it is to find the one 
horse-thief in the army. I calculate that about 
5,000 horses have illicitly changed hands during 
the advance from Modder River, and yet I have 
never found a man who has not most indignantly 
denied the merest, slenderest imputation of being 
concerned in a horse " transaction." Therefore — 
the army is honest, and there is only one horse-thief 
in it. The honour of the force is saved, and I am 
the only culprit. This is centralisation with a 
vengeance, and no longer need the Provost Marshal 
send his myrmidons galloping far and wide in 
search of horse-thieves. When next he hears of the 
loss of a horse, let him come to me — the only thief. 
I will let him know my address when Martial Law 
is replaced by the ordinary procedure of justice. 

But let me recount, to what, I hope, will be a 
sympathetic public, how I fell from honesty into 
the blackest depths of dishonesty. At Jakobsdal, 
Messieurs les Boers shot my finest horse. I was 
grieved naturally, and hurt, too, that a poor non- 

6 63 

War's Brighter Side 

combatant should have been treated so cavalierly. 
But " a la guerre comme a la guerre," I whispered 
to myself, and hoped for better luck next time. I 
followed the force from Jacobsdal to Klipkraal and 
Paardeberg, and at the last-named camp I awoke 
one morning to find my sturdy black pony had 
been taken quietly from under my very nose. I 
raved and stamped and swore at the loss. My sym- 
pathetic black boy tried to console me. " If master 
like," he said " I go catch another horse." But 
so high and pure was my morality at that time that 
I almost thrashed him on the spot for daring to 
make such a suggestion. I walked away disconso- 
late, and sought a friend whose ribboned breast 
showed that he had seen service in every quarter of 
the globe. His answer to my request was short and 
simple. " Go and see whether he is picketed with 

Horse " (wild rhinoceri will not drag from me 

the name of that gallant regiment of M.I.). I went, 
and there conspicuously displayed in the front rank 
of the tethered horses was my black pony. I did 

not hesitate, but, blessing the members of 

Horse for so kindly caring for my poor wandering 
pony, I began to untie the ream of the halter. But 
the watchful eye of one of the men was open, and I 
was startled to hear a noise at my side say, " Well, 
upon my soul, this beats cock-fighting. You come 
to the wrong shop if you think you can steal a 
horse from this regiment," and he roughly took the 
ream out of my hand. 

I protested. " The horse is mine," I said, " I'd 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

know him anywhere." " Get on," was the answer, 
" he belongs to my captain. Why, look at the 
brand." And, sure enough, on my poor pony's 
quarters were three big letters which represented, I 
suppose, his initials. 

But I was in no way cast down. To go and 
explain to the officer that a little mistake had oc- 
curred was, after all, quite an easy matter, and I 
approached the gentleman who was sitting under a 
mimosa bush having breakfast. I explained the 
matter to him, and asked permission to lead my 
property home. But the captain roared with 
laughter. " Lead my horse home ? " he shouted in 
another burst of laughter. " I like that. Why, do 
you know that the dam of that horse belonged to 
my Uncle Jim? He was the first man in that part 
of the country. Why," and again he laughed, " I 
remember when that black pony of mine was foaled. 
It was the 7th, no — the loth of October. I re- 
member quite well, for three weeks after we had a 
big garden party and all the ladies fell in love with 
the little beggar because he ate bread and butter 
from their hands and was the greediest beggar you 
ever saw after chocolate creams. Why, damme, if I 
didn't take that pony home again, I believe my old 
governor would cut me oflf with a shilling." 

I stood aghast. What a fool, what a sanguinary 
fool I was to go and make such a mistake. My 
apologies were ample, humble and profuse. But as 
I passed the horse lines again I could not help 
thinking how singularly like my lost pony was the 


War's Brighter Side 

animal which, as a foal, so amused the ladies at the 
garden party. 

And then I did the foolishest thing I ever did in 
all my life. I bought a new horse. Twenty-four 
hours afterwards it was claimed by four different 
ofificers, and I narrowly escaped hanging at the 
hands of the Provost Marshal, who at once ordered 
me to return the animal to its rightful owner. I gave 
it up to the four claimants, and let them decide 
among themselves the question of ownership. 

And now I had but one pony left — and I guarded 
it as the apple of my eye. But again the Fates were 
against me, and it went ofT — I do not for a mo- 
ment suggest that it was taken off. Again I tried 

's Horse and all the Regular and Irregular 

Corps in the force, and was indignantly rebuked 
for daring to look for a stray horse in their lines. 
And so I was reduced to walking to and fro at Paar- 
deberg Camp. But one fine afternoon, returning 
across the huge endless plain, I was nearly ridden 
down by a subaltern, and as I glanced at the reck- 
less rider I saw that he was riding my pony. I 
shouted and yelled to him to stop, which he did. 

" You are riding my pony," said I. 

" I'm not," was the laconic answer. 

" But I'm sure of it." 

" So am I." 

" Well, you're wrong this time. That pony is 
mine. I've had him for three months and I know 
him as well as I know my own boots." 

But there was never a blush on the face of the 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

subaltern. The pony he rode was, he admitted, of 
a very common type as regards colour and height. 
And he discussed at great length the difficulty of 
recognising horses. He told us that one of the 
greatest horse-dealers in London failed to recognise 
a horse that he had himself ridden a whole year. 
And then he drowned me in dates. The pony he 
was riding was bought for the remount of Decem- 
ber 13th, kept at Stellenbosch till January 4th, ar- 
rived at De Aar on January 6th, was used there by 
a staff officer who did not like him and sent him up 
to Orange River on February 1st. On February 
5th he became the property of the subaltern, who 
appeared to have tethered the beast at night to his 
waist, so positive was he that " he had never lost 
sight of the pony since." 

What could I say? I couldn't call him a liar, 
for he was a tall, well-made subaltern, and he might 
have knocked me down, so I let him ride my pony 
away, and I trudged home to my camp beside the 

Early next morning I collected all the servants 
and I addressed them as follows : " I have not got 
a single riding-horse left, and I want some ; go and 
get some." 

It was a laconic speech, but wonderfully effect- 
ive. By five o'clock that afternoon three grand 
beasts were standing under the shelter of the river 
bank close to my camp, undergoing the different 
processes of hogging, tail-cutting, dyeing and other 
forms of transformation used by horse-stealers. In 


War's Brighter Side 

ten days I could have mounted a whole troop of 
cavalry. I will confess that I was a bit frightened, 
when, at five o'clock one morning, they brought me 
two magnificent chargers, for I recognised them as 
the property of the Commander-in-Chief. But al- 
though I delayed His Excellency's departure to 
Kimberley for an hour, I succeeded in sending them 
back to his lines unperceived. 

I now possess a splendid stud of saddle-horses. 
I find it so difficult to feed them all, however, that 
it is my intention to ofifer them for sale next 
Wednesday. The conditions of the sale are usual 
ones, but it is to be distinctly understood that if 
any person dares to claim one of the animals as his 
own he will be turned out of the enclosure with 



So you've come. Mynheer Kiplin', so you've come, 

Wot a chap you are to foller up the drum, 

S'pose yer's gwine to make some verse. 

Well, there's lots wot does it worse, 

You'd 'ave made a better Laurrytte than some. 

We 'ave read your latest rimin' in the " Friend," 

But it's finished up too soon toward the end. 

But the paper's raither small. 

Sure it's 'ardly none at all. 

If 'twere larger now 'twould be the bigger friend. 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

Now I arsks yer, Mister Kiplin', ain't yer proud 
Of the " absent-minded beggars," how they've 

Through 'ard ground to " Bobsfontein," 
Dorp of late departed Steyn, 
Ain't yer proud of this great ragged Kharki crowd ? 

Glad to see yer, Mister Kiplin' and the " boys." 
Old Bloemfontein never knew such times — and 

There's paradin', drillin' — and 
Every night we gets the band, 
And there's nothin' now our 'appiness alloys. 



Horse-stealing is becoming a grave scandal. It 
constitutes the one blemish upon the otherwise 
excellent military regime that has been firmly 
but unobtrusively imposed. From their grazing 
grounds, from the rail in front of the Club, from the 
actual hands of Cape boys leading them to or from 
their lines, horses have been stolen with as little 
compunction as though they had been found graz- 
ing on the veldt. 

In some cases marks have been obliterated and 
manes and tails cropped by the thieves in the en- 
deavour to conceal the identity of the animal, and 
it is our duty to ask that an example shall be made 


War's Brighter Side 

of any person found in the possession of a horse 
not his own, or from which such marks or brands 
have been recently obHterated, or upon which others 
have been recently imposed. 

It must be apparent to any man of sense that a 
horse which is ofifered to him by any person, white 
or coloured, for a nominal sum, is a horse which 
that boy or person has no right whatever to possess 
or attempt to sell, and any man purchasing under 
these circumstances must be held to be an accom- 
plice in the theft. 

It is earnestly to be hoped that in felling neces- 
sary timber for the use of the troops all particularly 
fine or ornamental trees will be spared. This dis- 
trict is sufficiently well wooded to supply otherwise 
all requirements, and depends largely upon its tim- 
ber for its attractiveness. 

Mr. Kruger was being sped from the late Presi- 
dency when he recently visited the front near 
Gallaiskop and Osfontein, and President Steyn's 
parting remark was " Mind the British don't catch 
you, or you'll get a better place in St. Helena than 
I." It is hardly necessary now to remind the late 
President Steyn that many a true word is spoken 
in jest. 

It is not a little ofifensive to the ordinary British 
sense of the fitness of things that a native should be 
parading the Market Square in the red tunic of the 


We Begin to Feel at Home 

Soldiers of the Queen. Yet this was to be seen 
yesterday afternoon when the pipes were skirling 
their martial strains, to the delight of all and sundry. 
The name of the regiment — Shropshire — was plain- 
ly in evidence on the shoulder strap. 

Lord Roberts's entry into Bloemfontein narrow- 
ly missed marking another of those historical, dra- 
matic episodes such as Cronje's Day afforded. The 
British withdrawal from the Orange Sovereignty 
Territory actually took place on March ii, 1846, the 
proclamation being dated February 23rd of the 
same year. The Queen's soldiers re-entered this 
town on March 13th, only missing what would have 
been a wonderful coincidence by less than forty- 
eight hours. 



In continuation of the Proclamation which I 
issued when the British troops under my command 
entered the Orange Free State, in which I warned 
all burghers to desist from any further hostility, and 
undertook that those of them who might so desist, 
and were staying in their homes and quietly pur- 
suing their ordinary occupations, would not be 
made to suffer in their persons or property on 
account of their having taken up arms in obedience 
to the order of their Government, I now make 
known to all burghers that I have been authorised 


War's Brighter Side 

by the Government of Her Most Gracious Majesty 
the Queen to offer the following terms to those of 
them who have been engaged in the present war : — 
All burghers who have not taken a prominent 
part in the policy which has led to the war between 
Her Majesty and the Orange Free State, or com- 
manded any forces of the Republic, or comman- 
deered or used violence to any British subjects, and 
who are willing to lay down their arms at once, and 
to bind themselves by an oath to abstain from fur- 
ther participation in the war, will be given passes 
to allow them to return to their homes, and will not 
be made prisoners of war, nor will their property be 
taken from them. 


Field Marshal, 
Commanding-in-Chief Her Majesty's Forces in 

South Africa. 
Government House, Bloemfontein, 
15th March, 1900. 



Sentry Stories 

Obnoxious Natives — The Australian Correspond- 
ent — More Love Letters 

" The Friend " of March 20th contained 
five advertisements for stolen horses, one of 
which described the favourite horse of one of 
the editors; picturesque justice, some will say, 
for our light and trifling attitude toward the 
growing evil of horse-lifting. The editorial of 
the day, " Greater Britain," was one that I wrote, 
and the note of it was this: " It has been said 
that each of the preceding centuries during a 
long period of European history has ended in a 
great war. This one which closed the nineteenth 
century is not, and will not become, great, as 
wars are measured. But it will be recorded as 
phenomenally important in having given birth to 
Greater Britain." 

We had been offering five shillings each for 
copies of the " curio " numbers of March i6th. 
We now raised the offer to ten shillings a copy. 


War's Brighter Side 

A paragraph in the paper stated that a native 
(negro) police force had been estabhshed in 
town, with badges bearing the letters " B.N. P." 
" These police," we said, " have nothing what- 
ever to do with white people." 

A few words upon the subject of the natives 
will not be amiss. It will be remembered that 
even as the British troops were entering Bloem- 
fontein the negroes were engaged in looting a 
semi-public Boer building. Lord Roberts felt 
obliged to stop the triumphal advance and order 
his staff to drive the ruffians away. Some noble 
lords carried out the order. After we had estab- 
lished ourselves in the town the negroes were 
included with the white people in an order re- 
quiring them to have passes when they entered 
or left the town, and in order to be out of doors 
after nightfall. They deeply resented this, after 
making themselves as obnoxious as they were 
ridiculous, by their complaints. They said that 
they had always been friendly to the English, and 
had hated the Boers for the way they had mal- 
treated the blacks, but that it seemed the English 
were little better than the Boers. 

The truth is that from Capetown to Bloem- 
fontein they had traded upon a hatred of their 
Dutch masters, and, whether this was genuine 
or assumed, they had endeavoured to turn it to 
their account in every way. Everywhere that I 


Sentry Stories 

found them they were too much impressed by • 
the importance which they assumed, and which 
we too often encouraged. We paid them many 
times what was paid to " Tommy Atkins," and 
employed them in preference to the poor whites. 
In return they were often lazy, often impudent, 
sometimes treacherous. I personally know that 
they were welcomed when they ran from the 
Boer lines to ours, and I also know that they 
sometimes ran back to the Boers with what they 
had learned. The Afrikanders in our ranks 
and in our employ often knocked them down 
for impudence, and the English were horri- 
fied; but I fancy that the Afrikander knew 
what he was about in his dealings with these 

Mr. Gwynne, in this day's issue, wrote a series 
of parodies of the despatches of the correspond- 
ents of all the leading London and local news- 
papers. It was the purest fun. It caricatured 
and exaggerated the methods of each of us so 
cleverly as to make the series altogether laugh- 
able and yet so as to suggest something recog- 
nisable in each man's style. 

Mr. F. Wilkinson, of the Sydney Daily Tele- 
graph, wrote about the Australians an article that 
is here reprinted. A correspondent of whose 
name I am not certain continued from the previ- 
ous day an account of the expedition to the Brit- 


War's Brighter Side 

• ish forces southward of us. The article was so 
interesting and full of local and military colour 
that I wish I could give the author the credit he 

The chief event of the day was the receipt of 
an angry answer to my love letter to Miss Bloem- 
fontein. Even as we read the copy we supposed 
that some wag in the army had tried to perpe- 
trate a joke upon us, but Mr. Buxton came in 
and, finding us reading the letter, said that he 
had received it from a leading man of Bloemfon- 
tein, whose talented daughter had written it. 
She was an earnest adherent of the Boer cause, 
and expressed her sincere sentiments in this let- 
ter, in which she waved aside my protestations 
of our friendship with something painfully like 
scorn. Her name was given to us in confidence, 
and we published her letter with my reply, all 
agreeing that as she was certain to write another 
answer, we would give her the last word, and 
then close the episode. 

We were able on this day to announce the 
establishment of a regular daily train service to 
all points south. The country below had been 
cleared of Boers, but the bridge at Norval's Pont 
was still a wreck, and the trains ran over a tem- 
porary structure. Sir Henry Rawlinson arrived 
in Bloemfontein and took up his quarters at the 
Residency with Lord Roberts, who on this day 


Sentry Stories 

announced that he would review the Naval Bri- 
gade on the following morning. 

We published these three informing para- 
graphs: — 

Note: the price of whiskey is lis. a bottle, on 
a rising market. 

A French Canadian member of the R.C.R. was 
doing sentry-go one night at Enslin (Graspan). 
The countersign for the night was " Halifax," Pres- 
ently there came a strolling soldier whom our gallant 
Canadian promptly challenged. 

" Who go dare ? " 

" Friend." 

" Advance, fren, and pace on — and say * Haver- 
sack ' — all is vale." 

There were many such sentry stories in cir- 
culation in the army. Another one was to the 
efifect that a Yorkshireman having to halt, and 
demand the countersign of a man he knew 
very well, acquitted himself of his task in these 
words: " Halt! who goes there. Say * Majuba,' 
and toddle along — isn't it all blooming non- 
sense? " 

Finally, there was this one other paragraph 
especially full of the local colour of our sur- 
roundings — 

A captured Free Stater tried to impress a sense 
of his importance upon his captor by declaring that 


War's Brighter Side 

he was a Field Cornet. " I don't care if you're a 
field big drum. You're my prisoner, and you'd 
better be very civil and come on." 



For one very obvious reason, war corresponding 
has not had very much of a vogue in past years 
with Australian journalists ; in fact, the fighting 
business altogether has been very much neglected. 
As a group of colonies or a nation — which we hope 
to be almost immediately — we are not old enough to 
invite anyone else to put up his hands, and we are 
too far away to take more than a languid interest in 
other peoples' scraps. We did send a contingent 
and a few corespondents to the London Show, in 
'86 I think it was, but we only got there in time to 
return and make ourselves look rather ridiculous. 
Since then the " professional correspondent " might 
have starved and pined comfortably to death for all 
the work he would be likely to get. He couldn't 
have kept up the lecturing dodge with such long 
intervals between scraps. We didn't even think it 
worth while to send to the Philippine show, al- 
though it occurred almost at our very door. 

You see, in some of our Australian legislatures 
we groan under the inflictions of what are known 
as " labour parties," and labour parties all the world 
over have a rooted abhorrence of anything which 


Sentry Stories 

tends to the maintenance of law and order. Labour 
parties, moreover, are generally made up of men 
who have before their accession to Parliament led 
some big anti-capitalistic agitation, and they know 
what the sensation is to find themselves confronted 
with rifles, and even bayonets. Consequently they 
dislike the. military element with a mortal dislike. 
They make a dead set at raw military estimates 
every year, and laugh to scorn the military spirit. 
From all of which may be inferred that war corre- 
sponding with us has not hitherto been one of the 
most lucrative of professions. Rich squatters don't 
choose it as a career for their sons, and poor people 
have still the Banks and the Church and Parliament 
to fall back upon. Those of us, therefore, who for 
our sins have been sent out of this show, come as 
mere " rooineks," or " new chums," to use the Aus- 
tralian equivalent. Strange to say, the only one 
amongst us who was also in the Soudan received a 
mortal wound the other day near Rensburg. 

There is this to be said, however, in extenua- 
tion of our greenness to the business, that our 
early training is of the sort which ought to make 
for efficiency, the Australian pressman, like his 
cousin over here, is a child of the bush. His " beat " 
covers some thousands of square, solid, British 
miles. One day he is out in the wild West among 
wilder shearers, beside whom the average Tommy 
is a mere circumstance. There is trouble in station 
sheds, and wild, uncivilised war between unionists 
and blacklegs. Blue metal in chunks buzzes past 

7 79 

War's Brighter Side 

one's ears as thick as Mauser bullets at Magersfon- 
tein ; railway carriages are quickly reduced to ruins, 
huts and grass fired for miles round ; mobs of 
unionists carry havoc on the luckless blackleg and 
let slip the dogs of war — always blue metal. This is 
the stuff on which the Australian pressman is fed up. 

Next day he may be sent up to the flooded 
north: a river has burst its banks and submerged 
some twenty miles of settled country ; occupants 
of single story houses find themselves high and dry 
on their roof-tops, others have sought shelter in 
trees ; their household goods float gaily down- 
stream alongside dead cattle and horses. Rescue 
parties in flood boats pull frantically from house 
to house carrying provisions and clothing for 
shivering women and children. These floods occur 
quite frequently, and your pressman soon learns 
to live for weeks almost up to his waist in water. 
He manages to boil his " billy " in the bottom of 
his boat without springing a leak. He will make 
excellent " damper " with arrowroot and Epsom 
salts if he can't get flour and baking powder. He 
will ride anything which will go on four legs, and 
after he has been lost on the trackless bush a time 
or two, he won't always travel in a circle. 

He has a standing engagement in an annual 
encampment where 5,000 or 6,000 troops are con- 
centrated for nine days' continuous training, and 
when general orders are issued beforehand notifying 
the exact time and spot where an engagement will 
take place, between so-and-so representing the en- 


Sentry Stories 

emy, whose position will be indicated by red flags, 
and such and such regiments representing the at- 
tacking force, who may be distinguished by blue 
flags. We manage those things better at Easter 
manoeuvres than we do on service. Here, they 
don't send round cards of invitation to correspond- 
ents when a fight is going to take place. One has 
to chase round the country after it, fighting staff 
officers on the lines of communication all the way. 
But that is another story. Since our present illus- 
trious Commander-in-Chief has taken over the con- 
duct of the campaign we haven't been able to raise 
much of a grumble, and what happened prior to 
this is forgotten — at least for the time. 
F. Wilkinson, 

Sydney Daily Telegraph. 



Come, tall Mr. Englishman, and sit down beside 
me, but for the love of heaven, do not look into my 
eyes, lest they scorch you with a fiery " hate of 
hate." The blue of mine eyes may be perilously near 
that blue which men have named electric, and such 
an electric shock of scorn would they shoot that you 
would wish yourself amidst the turmoil of war 
again, some of whose bolts and bombs have taken 
the lives of our fathers, brothers, friends ! You will 
not wonder then that I do not like your whole 


War's Brighter Side 

army or any part thereof, although it may have done 
me the great and unwished-for honour of liking me 
— or you, the conqueror of the land, which is mine 
by the same right as your little island is yours — the 
right of old tradition which is so great a factor in the 
history of nations, and in which our land abounds ; 
the right of residence which has been ours since our 
peacefully ruled and hitherto prosperous little Free 
State was created — the right of love for the land of 
our birth — the right of pride in our despised beaux, 
with their homespun suits and lavish beards and 
whiskers, who have gone out to fight with such 
bravery for their cause and country. 

Surely, Mr. Englishman, you of all men should 
be able to appreciate this factor in them, you who 
pride yourself on being the bravest man of the 
bravest of living nations. Were this factor missing 
in them, would you not have been here five long 
months ago? Surely you, I say, should be able 
to overlook such small matters as the bad cut of 
their coats and the length of their beards. You 
should know that greatness does not lie in outward 

Please do not say " Miss Bloemfontein tripped 
out to meet us so enticingly;" say, rather, "little 
Miss Uitlander," who has, as you rightly think, by 
no means hitherto scorned our homespun youths, 
and to whom we extended a loving hand when she 
came, and who now, in return for this, unnecessarily 
flaunts your colours in our faces, and welcomes you 
too kindly. Much bitter sorrow was there, oh sir, 


Sentry Stories 

when you entered this loved home of ours ; I and my 
sisters, who felt as would your English dames, were 
another William Conqueror to take their island 
home from them, lay in dumb anguish and writhed 
when the word went forth, " we have fallen into 
bondage," " our enemy hath us in his grasp " — and 
our cup of bitterness was more than full. 

We do not cling to our old love, who left us with 
much misgiving to your tender mercies. Mr. Eng- 
lishman, fain would he have stayed to protect us, 
but that he had his command to go ; — and this is 
another thing which you, who think so much of dis- 
cipline, should be able to appreciate. Though for 
fear of your displeasure we must hide our feelings, 
you are hateful to us, oh slayer of our brothers and 
taker of our home ! 

We will not forget, Mr. Englishman, and are 
truly grateful to you, that you behaved to us with 
common courtesy, and stood aside to let us pass ; but 
surely you, the politest of polite men, would not take 
credit for that, which should be the birthright of all 
gentlemen. We dwell not in times of Sabine sister- 
hoods, good sir! 

And if little Miss Uitlander bathe you in smiles, 
and lisp pretty nothings into your much-astonished 
ear, call but to mind that she comes from your own 
" far countree," and has here learned this way of 
welcoming the conqueror. 

I am no Boadicea, say you. Oh, sir, you mis- 
take grievously. I would smite you with mine own 
hands, were I able. Did you perhaps not catch a 


War's Brighter Side 

glimpse of me in General Cronje's laager, whither I 
went to share the danger with my brother, and cheer 
him in his arduous task ? 

True it is that homely comfort abounds in our 
cottages, and should it not be so? Perhaps there 
was a time too when your stately sister did not scorn 
to keep house, instead of attending theatres, soirees, 
musicales, at-homes. Evidently, Miss Uitlander for- 
got the divine music of Queen's Hall and Covent 
Garden, when she crowded to do justice to the awful 
and untuneful melodies, to which your English 
bandsmen treated her on the Market Square. But 
you see " It is so long since she left ' home,' and it 
is sweet to hear those sounds which come straight 
from dear old England," I, sir, stopped my ears 
with cotton wool (for, whatever Miss Bloemfon- 
tein is, she is musical, and even had I been pleased 
to see you, I could never have allowed myself to 
be tortured with those fragments of the divine art). 
Poor Pan ! he stood afar on the topmost steeple of 
the Dutch Church, and played his pipes and wept, 
and had you not been so absorbed in " tripping to 
your gay tunes," you might have heard faintly steal- 
ing over our ancient towers " Heeft burghers t'lied 
der Vrijheid aan," while the organ within our 
" piously Presbyterian " edifice echoed the anthem, 
which was caught up by the instrument in your ex- 
clusively English cathedral, and Miss Bloemfontein 
heard the echo and was comforted. 

And now, Mr. Englishman, do you fully realise 
that I am not pleased to see you, that I hate to have 


Sentry Stories 

you here ; I, a real daughter of the soil ? And if to- 
morrow I could turn you out, I would do so joy- 
ously, while little Miss Uitlander would stand by, 
her lovely eyes moist with grateful tears, and 
whisper, " That is right," or perhaps push you with 
her tiny left hand, while she once more extended 
her right to my badly dressed brothers, as they 
came over the top of the Bloemfontein Hill ! 

The gulf between the angry past and the still 
more angry present will never be bridged, Mr. Eng- 
lishman. You have made Afrikanderdom by fight- 
ing us, and have awakened in our breasts the knowl- 
edge that we are of another sort than yourselves. 
Only now, with the " Schwanenlied " sounding in 
our ears, do we feel what it is to have a country — 
to be a nation ! 

Miss Bloemfontein. 

Our Reply to the Lady 

Dear Miss Bloemfontein, — If there is doubt 
about which young lady it is who has made us wel- 
come here, there is none at all about the genuine- 
ness of your letter and yourself. Its sheets exhale 
the subtle perfume of the mimosa flower, its strong, 
free writing reveals the confidence, health, and 
high spirits of the graceful rider of the veldt ! 
Thank God (and thank you also, my dear) there is 
no line or phrase of resistance to our suit in all your 
. letter but has a tender phrasing or carries a compli- 


War's Brighter Side 

ment — so that we know you do not dislike us a 
tenth so much as you hate the thought of seeming 
light-of-love, of feeling that we have dared to pity 
you, of fancying we think you are to be won for the 
mere asking. 

Sweetheart, that was a clumsy letter of ours if it 
ruffled your maidenly sensitiveness with such mis- 
apprehensions. Henry V. was not the only one, or 
the last, of us Englishmen who could war with men 
better than he could woo women. And as Katharine 
looked through young Hal's rough armour into his 
warm and loyal heart, so we ask you to do with us. 

Well, well ! so it was your cousin, Miss Uitlander, 
whose azure eyes and twining fingers sent me into 
my rhapsody of love, while you, the true Katharine, 
the real princess, have held back, hid in some leafy 
bower of your pretty capital. Ah, well, it was not 
her hand that took our heart captive. It was not 
her eyes that slew us. What we loved was the 
essence of your soul and spirit which breathed upon 
us from your park-like seat, from your trees and 
gardens, from the pretty, happy houses of your 
subjects. It was you we loved, dear neighbour, 
you whom we have admired through all your youth 
and never quarrelled with and never known to be 
at fault. 

As I wrote on Saturday, we still stand aside and 
look upon your charms of peaceful domesticity, all 
garlanded for your bridegroom. Still, too, we see 
your selfish, scheming guardian of the past fleeing 
from the wreck and ruin into which he has plunged 


Sentry Stories 

your people. And we see your sworn champions in 
similar flight, leaving you forlorn, deserted. It is 
eminently womanly of you to defend these faithless 
gallants rather than solicit pity for yourself. It is 
the true maidenhood in you which makes you retire 
to your bower until you have forced us to acknowl- 
edge your value and earn your love. If we mis- 
judged you and fancied you had tripped out to put 
your hand in ours, it was only because we were so 
eager and so smitten. We like you better as you are, 
shy and modest, proud and pure. 

That deft touch of your pen upon the quality of 
our music — it was — I mean to say we find no fault 
in you for — but, no, we may not be disloyal, even to 
our pipes. It was the best we had to ofifer, and 
when better comes from home we fancy that even 
you will cease to barricade your pearly ears against 
it. We shall enjoy hearing Pan set your sighs to 
melody. We promise not to drive him away ; he 
shall ever play your songs just as he trills the lays of 
ever so many fair maidens who throng around our 
Queen, and who remember the chains she has 
stricken from their limbs without for an instant for- 
getting the traditions which still knit each to hef 
past and her kindred in so many far lands. 

You speak of the " great honour " of our liking 
you. You extol our bravery. You admit our 
" tender mercies " and our love of order. You say 
you will not forget our courtesy to your people or 
our modesty. You call us " the politest of polite 
men " — ah, dear little Afrikander, we treasure each 


War's Brighter Side 

word in each of those sentences. We cannot help 
taking heart of hope. If you can speak of us so 
fair to-day, when the whispers of your old lover 
still sound in your ears, what may we not expect in 
time to come ? We will not try to hurry your heart, 
but we warn you we shall melt it. For we love 
you, and there is no selfish prompting, no hope of 
mercenary gain in our affection. We love you be- 
cause you are irresistible, even with your dimpled 
little hand clenched, and, perhaps, partly because of 
the lightning that flashes in your pretty eyes. 

Julian Ralph. 


On Thursday morning last a small force was 
despatched by train from Bloemfontein to the 
South, in order to open up the country, to find 
out the dispositions of the enemy between here and 
the Orange River, and, if possible, to join hands 
with the British forces now operating in the direc- 
tion of Stormberg and Colesberg. 

The force consisted of 4 guns and 66 men of the 
84th Battery, R.F.A., 21 mounted men of Roberts' 
Horse Bodyguard, 6 Grahamstown M.I., a section 
of the M.R.E., and 2 battalions of Guards (3rd 
Grenadiers and ist Scots), totalling about 2,100 men 
and 120 horses, besides vehicles and mules sufficient 
to make the force mobile if required. 

We moved off in 5 trains, the first being a short 

Sentry Stories 

*' breakdown " pilot train in charge of Lieutenant 
Mozley, R.E., carrying an advanced party of 51 
Grenadiers under Capt. Clive, Ten minutes after, 
»a full train of Grenadiers, carrying in addition 
Major-General Pole-Carew, C.B., commanding the 
expedition, and his Stafif ; and the other three trains 
carried the remainder of the force. 

We were in hopes that there would be some 
parties of the enemy between us and the Orange, 
especially as Edenburg was reported occupied ; 
and the country between that and the river ought 
to have been swarming with Boers opposing the 
advance of Generals Gatacre and Clements. But, 
as it turned out, we had no chance of loosing off 
even one round, and our progress was peaceful and 
unwarlike in the extreme. 

At Kaalspruit we met Lieut. Russell Brown, 
R.E., who had just returned off an adventurous trip 
per train to Edenburg, which he had reconnoitred in 
the dark when it was full of Boers. After that we 
steamed slowly along, and reconnoitred Kaffir and 
Riet River Bridges, with a view to their occupation 
if necessary. 

As it was quite possible that stray Boers might 
walk into the telegraph offices behind us and read 
off any messages going through, we transferred the 
instruments to the safer keeping of the detachments 
of Scots Guards we left at the bridges. The discon- 
necting of wires at one of the stations was carried 
out by a highly distinguished and zealous party of 
Grenadier officers, headed by the C.O. himself, but 


War's Brighter Side 

the result was somewhat unfortunate, as messages 
refused to pass through for some considerable time 
afterwards. Edenburg was approached at dusk, but, 
thanks to a friend who told us that the enemy had 
evacuated it, we had no need to use caution in so 
doing. On the contrary, we were warmly welcomed 
on coming to a standstill, and found a deputation of 
three ready to hand over the keys of the town and to 
ask for protection. 

The General received the deputation, consisting 
of the Landdrost, Mr. Fourie, Mr. Groenwoud and 
the Clerk of the Council, graciously, but demanded, 
as a guarantee of good faith, that all arms and am- 
munition in the town and district should be given up. 
This was agreed to, and messengers were despatched 
to the Commandant and two Field-cornets, who 
lived some way ofif, to come in next morning at 6 
and arrange the matter with the General. A mes- 
senger was also sent to warn the Fauresmith 
commando of 400 to 500 men, which was approach- 
ing the town, that they had better disperse, as the 
British were in possession and might fire on them 
if they came too near. The commando had, how- 
ever, kindly anticipated the purport of this message, 
and had already melted away on its own initiative, 

Edenburg is a pretty little town, well supplied 
with water and provisions of all sorts. But its chief 
posesssion must be acknowledged to be a veritable 
Don Juan, to judge from the number of affectionate 
letters addressed to him that were found among the 
budget seized at the Post Office. This young man, 


Sentry Stories 

who shall be nameless, must have broken the hearts 
of numberless charming ladies. Letters from every 
part of the Free State and a large portion of the 
Transvaal, some couched in most amorous language, 
others upbraiding him for faithlessness, all signed 
by names of the fair sex (mostly without the addition 
of a surname), brought a hot blush to the brow of 
the unfortunate officer whose duty it was to scan 
their contents. It was past i a.m. before he had 
finished his work, but the fair writers may rest 
assured that their missives will all reach their desti- 
nation in time, and their secrets remain locked in 
the breast of that particular Staflf Officer. 

Early next morning the town was awakened by 
a series of violent explosions, which caused several 
timid people to imagine that a serious battle was 
raging. It was, however, caused by the burning of 
67,000 rounds of ammunition which had been taken 
from the gaol and court house and which were being 
destroyed by order. Five hundred rifles were also 
taken, all of them Martinis, except twenty-one. 

After arranging with Commander Cloete and the 
Field-pornets van der Merwe and Roule the details 
of handing over the rifles, &c., to their districts, the 
General proceeded on his way, and soon arrived at 
Jagersfontein Road. Here we were met by a Union 
Jack and patriotic inhabitants, but rapidly steamed 
on to Springfontein,on hearing that General Gatacre 
had crossed the Orange River at Bethulie, and was 
expected that morning at Springfontein Junction. 

We arrived at this place at ten o'clock and, to our 


War's Brighter Side 

secret joy, found no signs yet of a British occupa- 
tion. We heard, however, that an engine had 
brought two EngHsh officers thither from BethuHe 
on a short visit the night before. 

Shortly after arriving mounted scouts of Mont- 
morency's Horse made their appearance, and were 
followed by General Gatacre, who rode up, some- 
what surprised to find us already in possession. 
Cordial greetings were exchanged between the Gen- 
erals, and after a short stay we pushed on in the 
direction of Norval's Pont, which we were assured 
had been evacuated by the enemy 24 hours before. 

On the strength of this information we left the 
three rear trains behind, and pushed on through 
rapidly steepening country to Prior's Siding. Here 
we were enthusiastically welcomed by the only in- 
habitants, two Russian Jews, who so far allowed 
their feelings to overpower their pockets as to pre- 
sent the General with a box of excellent cigars in 
honour of the new flag. 

Another half hour through a horrid defile 
brought us to Donkerpoort, and at this uninviting 
station we found the vanguard of General Clements' 
force. These had crossed the Orange River by 
means of a pontoon bridge, flung across the river 
2-^ miles below the great bridge, and consisted of a 
squadron of Inniskillings, the 4th Field Battery, 
250 Australians, and some Infantry. 

As we steamed slowly ahead, the extended lines 
of horsemen advancing over the plain raised cheer 
after cheer, and we were moreover honoured by a 


Sentry Stories 

patriotic officer dismounting and taking a historical 
snapshot with the ever-present kodak at the advanc- 
ing engine. This latter, one should add, was 
adorned by 4 officers sitting just over the cow- 
catcher, who obtained an excellent view of the sur- 
rounding country. Their admiration was, however, 
somewhat tempered by the knowledge of a widely 
spread report that at certain places there lurked 
under the line masses of deadly dynamite. Con- 
siderable caution was at first observed at the cul- 
verts ; but when the engine-driver assured us that 
dynamite was hidden at one place only, and that 
place known to him, we bade him proceed until 
within 50 yards of the spot, and then halt. When 
within half a mile of the bridge, we asked whether 
the fatal place was near at hand. Judge of our 
mingled horror and relief when we heard that the 
miscreant driver had not recognised the spot until 
within 5 yards of it, and had driven unwillingly over 
it at full speed ! 

Except for a short glimpse a mile back, one 
cannot, from a train, see the bridge broadways on. 
It was, therefore, difficult to estimate the exact 
damage that had been done as we approached it, 
even when we had walked out as far as we could 
go, and actually stood over the gap. The wreck is 
terrific ; 3 spans and one pier had been blown up 
and lay in the water 100 feet below, connected with 
the standing part of a steep and tangled wreckage 
of beams, girders, and iron. Three months at least 
must elapse before the bridge can be thoroughly 


War's Brighter Side 

in working order again ; but a little bird has 
whispered in the ear of the writer that by an in- 
genious series of connections from bank to bank 
a very large amount of stores will shortly be pass- 
ing across. Those Burghers who refused twice, 
when ordered, to blow up the bridge, were wise men 
in their generation, for its destruction will mean a 
much more serious loss to the Free State than to the 
British troops. 



Ours was no Bed of Roses 

Kipling's regard for " Tommy Poetry " — Our 
English as it was set up by Boer compositors 

" The Friend " was an afternoon paper pub- 
lished at three or four or five o'clock in the even- 
ing, according as the Dutch compositors chose 
to get it out. We editors went to our tiny edi- 
torial room between nine and ten o'clock in the 
morning, and worked until lunch time — one 
o'clock — writing, seeing visitors, correcting 
proofs, and reading manuscripts. What I have 
called " seeing visitors " mainly consisted in 
turning away private soldiers who came for 
copies of the paper. Though we posted notices 
that ours was the editorial room, and that papers 
were to be had at Barlow's stationery shop, 
"Tommy" would insist upon coming to us; 
therefore we gave up a large part of our time 
to sending him away, now yelling at him, now 
bursting into profanity, and anon pleading most 
8 95 

War's Brighter Side 

politely that we were neither newsboys nor rail- 
way bookstall keepers. 

What I have called " reading manuscripts " 
was largely the work of examining the poetry of 
this same Mr. Atkins, who, fired by the genius of 
Mr. Kipling, is sometimes a better poet than 
you would think, sometimes a worse poet than 
you can imagine, but is generally a poet — of one 
sort or another. 

We had good " Tommy " poets in our ranks, 
wherefore, when Mr. Kipling came, he insisted 
that all soldier poetry should be religiously read, 
and the best of it published. He pored over 
miles — but we are coming to him presently. At 
the idea of re-writing and improving Tommy's 
verse he was pained, and when Mr. James Barnes, 
on one occasion, spent half a day in putting a 
" Tommy " poem into Queen's English, Mr. 
Kipling was righteously indignant, and spent 
an hour in getting it back to Tommy's ver- 

The rest of the time of all except the man 
who wrote the leader of the day was spent in 
correcting the typographical errors of the Dutch 
compositors, who, by the way, could make more 
numerous and more dreadful mistakes in type 
than ever an intelligence ofificer made in getting 
news of the enemy. The consequence was that 
we often took up the first paper that reached us 













discriminj^tiiig )Joer having laid 
''nestful of valuable and infyrming 
fled across the horizon under 
pressure of necessity lej^fing his 
nest in a secluded spot where it was 
discovered by a disinterested observe^ 
_who reported the same to an lnte*li 
gjCnceTTfficer. The latter arriving 
his leisure with a great pomposit^y 
said " tee me hatch V' ^nd sitting 
down without reserve converted the 
entire output into /n unnecessar 
omelette. After the mess was 
moved, the disinterested obsArver 
observed : — " )lad you approached this 
matter in another spirit yon might 
h*ve obtained valuable information." 
"That," rtiint^ replied the Intelligence 
/JfBcer, " sh^s your njHrrow-minded 
prejudice. Besides I am morally 
certain that those eggs c^me out of 
m/re's nest." " It is now too lite 
to enquire " said the disinterested 
observer, "^nd that is a pity." "But 
am I not an intelligent 
^^id the ^ntelligenoe ifHTcer " Of 
that there can be no twrf opiniong," 
said the disinterested observer. 
Whereupon he was sent down. 

Moral. Dn not' teach the /tnlelli- t/ 
gence to Jt i Htch eggs 1 


A Corrected "Proof" by Rudyard Kipling. 

(Giving a glimpse of the struggle between the editors and the Dutch 

Ours was no Bed of Roses 

from the presses, and with a sigh assured each 
other that it was ahnost wholly given up to bad 
verse and printers' errors. 

At noon during these early days one of us 
would gather up all the proofs that we could get 
from the printers, and march over to Lord Stan- 
ley's office to have them censored. He was so 
considerate and liberal that this soon proved a 
mere formality. I think he must have regarded 
the eccentric but interesting journal as a child 
of his own, or at least as one whose parentage he 
would be too polite to dispute if Lord Roberts 
claimed it. We used to hear how very much 
the great Field Marshal, also, was interested in 
it; how eagerly he secured his copy every day, 
and how much he liked all that it contained. A 
visitor at the Residency told us that one after- 
noon Lord Roberts saw an officer reading The 
Friend, and called to one of his staff: " I see a 
man in there reading The Friend. How is it 
I have not had my copy? " The officer's paper 
proved to be a copy of an earlier number, so that 
the Field Marshal's wounded pride was healed. 
But we liked that story; w^e liked it very much 

Our fifth number, published on March 21st, 
began with Mr. Gwynne's hearty leader on Rud- 
yard Kipling, who was expected to reach Bloem- 
fontein on that day. Mr. Gwynne also wrote one 


War's Brighter Side 

of his characteristic satirical articles on " The 
Soberest Army in the World." Mr. Landon con- 
tributed a lively and picturesque narrative of 
the principal feat our despatch riders had per- 
formed up to that time, and I perpetrated a 
modest bit of reporting on South Africa's at- 
tractions — an article of greater interest here 
and now than it was then and for our army 

We had made it known that private soldiers 
would be charged only a penny for the paper, 
the original threepenc3 being demanded solely 
of of^cers. In this way we hoped to earn a 
greater profit than by shutting out of our trade 
the humble private, to whom a threepence (a 
" ticky," as it is called in Africa) sometimes ap- 
pears as big as a cart-wheel. But our new plan 
brought us a lot of trouble — especially of the 
kind you feel when you know you are being done 
out of something and yet cannot help yourself. 
The fact was that the officers encamped at a dis- 
tance sent in their servants for their papers, and 
these messengers, being privates, only paid a 
penny for each paper. Then, again, the officers 
were dressed so nearly like the men that the 
newsboys and assistants in Barlow's shop could 
not distinguish them apart, and charged many of 
the officers the penny of the private. This an- 
noyed us, because we were intent upon making 


Ours was no Bed of Roses 

as much money as possible in order to turn over 
a handsome sum to a soldier charity when we 
should end our stewardship — for not a penny did 
we mean to keep for ourselves. Mr. Landon 
wrote a strenuous appeal to the officers to help 
us to get our just dues. To the same paper Mr. 
A. B. Paterson, of the Sydney Herald, contrib- 
uted a very clever bit of verse, entitled, " Fed 
up." He was one of the contributors of whom 
we were most proud — and justly so. 

In this day's paper there were seventeen 
notices of horses lost — presumably stolen, but a 
close scrutiny of all horse-flesh was in progress, 
and in the same column with the wails of the 
robbed was a notice of the recovery of twenty- 
one horses — none of them being the same as any 
of the lost that were advertised for. The Pro- 
vost-Marshal, Major R. M. Poore, on this day 
announced that every native with a horse must 
carry a certificate proving that the animal was 
his own. He also declared that every person pos- 
sessing any property of the Orange Free State 
Government — horses, mules, oxen, or anything 
else — must quickly hand it up. 

Lord Roberts reviewed the Naval Brigade on 
the preceding day, and we had a report of it 
showing how splendidly Captain Bearcroft's 
command appeared. The late Admiral Maxse, 
out there on a visit, witnessed the review, and 


War's Brighter Side 

said that it was the first one he had attended 
since the Crimea, when he acted as naval A.D.C. 
to Lord Raglan. This review gave us all one of 
our rare chances of seeing Lord Roberts, for he 
went out but little, and even at such times hur- 
ried directly to his destination, returning with as 
little loss of time. Every man, of every rank, 
saluted him, and he was scrupulously careful to 
return the salute even of the bugler boys. It 
was said to be surprising to note how many men 
he knew of all ranks, and how watchful and ob- 
servant he was. " You managed that very 
cleverly," he would say to a man in conflict with 
unruly horses; or he would reprove a soldier for 
untidiness in dress. Nothing escaped his rest- 
less eyes. 

He wore no decorations of any kind, and I 
have even heard it said that not every coat of his 
was decked with gilt buttons — though this I re- 
peat only upon hearsay. I can testify, however, 
that no man more modest and making less of 
his rank was in his army. I always saw him in 
plain khaki with that badge of mourning upon 
one sleeve which gave us all a keener thrust in 
our emotions than even the hardest felt losses 
of comrades and acquaintances which befell us 
all so frequently. 


Ours was no Bed of Roses 





To-day we expect to welcome here in our camp 
the great poet and writer, who has contributed more 
than any one perhaps towards the consolidation of 
the British Empire. His visit is singularly appro- 
priate. He will find encamped round the town not 
only his friend Tommy Atkins, but the Australian, 
the Canadian, the New Zealander, the Tasmanian, 
the volunteer from Ceylon, from Argentine, and 
from every quarter of the globe. He will see the 
man of the soil — the South African Britisher — side 
by side with his fellow colonist from over the seas. 
In fact, Bloemfontein will present to him the actual 
physical fulfilment of what must be one of his dearest 
hopes — the close union of the various parts of the 
greatest Empire in the world. His visit, therefore, 
will have in it something of the triumph of a con- 
queror — a conqueror who, with the force of genius, 
has swept away barriers of distance and boundary, 
and made a fifth of the globe British, not only in title, 
but in real sentiment. 

We, belonging to that portion of the Press to 
which is assigned the duty of witnessing and chroni- 
cling the deeds which make history, extend to the 
illustrious writer a welcome, sincere and whole- 

War's Brighter Side 

hearted. We feel, all of us, that his brush alone can 
do complete justice to the wonderful pictures of war 
which we have been privileged to see. We, who 
have been with Tommy Atkins on many a hard cam- 
paign, have long ago come to love him for his quiet, 
unostentatious courage and his patient endurance of 
hardships, but we feel that Mr. Kipling alone can 
translate to the world the true inwardness of Tom- 
my's character. We feel sure that the Mulvaneys, 
the Leroyds, and the Ortherises will welcome him 
as heartily as we do, and we are hopeful that this 
fresh meeting of Tommy Atkins and perhaps the 
only man who rightly understands him, will be pro- 
ductive of fresh pictures of the British soldier. 



The force which, under the command of Field- 
Marshal Lord Roberts, left Enslin and occupied 
Bloemfontein will undoubtedly be known in history 
as the " Sober Army." Never before in the history 
of campaigning has there been known such an ab- 
sence of excess in the way of drinking — and eating 
too, as far as that is concerned. Some people have 
dared to cast aspersions on the British army by in- 
sinuating that drunkenness is not unknown among 
its members. They have even gone further and 
declared that officers and men are very fond of their 
" tot " or their " pint " or their whisky and soda. I 

1 02 

Ours was no Bed of Roses 

only wish some of these calumniators could have 
accompanied Lord Roberts' force. They would 
have recanted on the spot, and returned home con- 
vinced that the British army was not only the finest 
but the soberest in the world. 

Their excessive sobriety and vyonderful self- 
restraint in the face of temptation rather tempts one 
to delve deep down for the psychological reasons. 
I have myself made inquiries, but I must confess that 
I am at a loss for a real reason. My firm belief is 
that the British soldier is so actuated by a deep sense 
of duty that, having come to the conclusion that 
hard drinking and hard fighting were incompatible, 
he promptly dropped the former and devoted all his 
energies to the latter. It would have been expected 
that at the end of a long, dusty march the men would 
have, immediately after being dismissed, made a 
rush for the canteen. Nothing of the sort. They sat 
down to tea and coflfee and left the canteen waiters 
kicking their heels doing nothing. It is true one or 
two soldiers have told me that they couldn't find the 
canteen, but the majority of the men chose, of their 
own free will, to ignore its existence, and actually 
never looked for it. But this noble continence, this 
splendid self-restraint has been very nearly spoilt by 
the folly and wickedness of some of the authorities. 
They actually issued rum to the men at intervals. 
Now one of Tommy's greatest virtues is obedience. 
He was ordered to drink rum and he did it — just as 
he advanced against a kopje spitting forth lead when 
he was ordered. But the task of swallowing the 


War's Brighter Side 

hateful stuff was distasteful in the extreme. I have 
seen him take his mug and get his tot and then look 
at his ofBcer as much as to say, " must I really take 
it ? " The ofhcer's answering glance was invariably 
a command which poor Tommy could not disobey, 
and he tossed off the liquor with one gulp to get it 
over all the quicker, and then hold his mug upside 
down to show he had done the deed. 

One would have thought, indeed, that this 
wonderful self-restraint would be destroyed in the 
wild rush of joy with which the army was filled the 
night that Cronje surrendered. Not a bit of it. The 
men lying on the soaking ground never touched a 
drop of alcohol, although many would say that the 
victory of our arms deserved an alcoholic celebration. 
But that night the canteens were as deserted as ever. 
One man, and one man only, fell. He was an 
officer's servant, and was discovered gloriously 
happy, delightedly drunk. His comrades kept 
hitting and punching him and asking him where 
he had found the liquor, it evidently being their 
firm intention to destroy it. He refused, however, 
to answer a word until his master found him and, 
seizing him by the shoulder, shook him, and ex- 
claimed with eager face, " Good Heavens, Jones, 
where the devil did you get it ? " And Jones an- 
swered drunkenly to an eager crowd of expectant 
officers and men, " Meth'lated Shpirits, Shir. I'sh 
found it in waggon." 

Whereupon ten eager voices asked — 

" Is there any left? " 


Ours was no Bed of Roses 

" No ; finished whole blooming lotsh." 
And then his comrades gently kicked him for 
a cur. 

To the Editors of " The Friend " 

Gentlemen, — I have read with much of interest 
one article in one of your last issues touching the 
steal at the horses. 

As a veteran of the war of 1870, I think that this 
would be of interest towards much of your abonnes 
if I should write some words of my proper experi- 

It appears by the article in the number of The 
Friend of the 19th that the writer desires to carry 
to the observation of those who themselves find in 
authority, that by their proper negligence he has 
been forced to become that which you other English 
call jail-bird. 

Now I have made the w^ar of 1870. I was 
dragon. I have suffered the same privations and I 
have smelt the same difficulties on the question of 
horses, but never I not have failed of myself to find 
without horse of war. This without myself to boast. 

I not desire to blame the author of this article 
praiseworthy, who, as he appears to wish to himself 
efface, in myself offering as counsellor, but since, as 
to myself seems that he wishes to hold one sale of 
his animals that it is all this that he has of most 
imbecile of to announce on the roofs his crime. 


War's Brighter Side 

An officer of dragons in 1870, I was having at the 
month of the June twenty horses of the first quaHty, 
grand, strong, majestic animals, worthy of to carry 
one officer of dragons in battle against those 
canailles of Prussians. 

At the month of September after Sedan he not 
me was remaining nothing, and I not was having 
not even the means of me to save in Belgium. 

What to do ! — Officer French not is able not to 
render himself. Ah ! not know I not the anguish of 
himself to find without horse. What have I done ? 
To steal, no ! This was indignant of officer. To 
buy, no ! I of it not was having not of what. I was 
aperceiving in the distance one horse of officer of 
the Estate Major. This was the horse of my poor 
friend Gu-gu, evidently killed or gravely blessed. II 
if not, why not was he not, the brave gar, mounted 
on his horse, directing the flight? In one instant I 
myself was launched thereon without hesitation. To 
save the horse favourite of my poor friend dead 
Gu-gu was my first thought. In rending to his 
corpse this little service I was rending to my patrie 
one service again more grand. I myself was reserv- 
ing for one death more epouvantable. Then, since 
that he is possible of to find the horses of friends 
blessed, for what himself to submit at the stigma of 
to be accused of to be thief. More late, when one 
wishes to sell the horses, one himself finds in face of 
one difficulty inextricable, if the proper proprietor 
himself finds upon the market. 

Gu-gu I have found more late in Paris, it is true, 


Ours was no Bed of Roses 

but we have eaten the good horse together Uke good 

Agree my compliments most respected, 

M. Vol au Vent. 

(The Editors, for obvious reasons, divest them- 
selves of any responsibility for the opinions held by 
our distinguished Gallic friend.) 

" FED UP ! " 

The Cavalryman's Groid 


I ain't a timid man at all, I'm just as brave as 

I'll take my turn in open fight and die beside my 

But riding round the whole day long as target for a 

A-drawing fire from koppies — well, I'm quite Fed 


There's not so many men get hit — it's luck that pulls 

us through. 
Their rifie fire's no class at all — it misses me and 

you ; 
But when they sprinkle shells around like water 

from a cup 
From that there bloomin' pom-pom gun — well, I'm 

Fed Up! 


War's Brighter Side 

We never gets a chance to charge — to do a thrust 

and cut — 
I think I'll chuck the Cavalry and join the Mounted 

But, after all, what's Mounted Fut? I saw them 

t'other day, 
They occupied a koppie when the Boers had run 


The Cavalry went ridin' on, and seen a score of 

But there they stuck, those Mounted Fut, for seven 

days and nights — 
For seven solid days and nights — with scarce a bite 

or sup, 
So when it comes to Mounted Fut — well, Fm Filled 


And trampin' with the Footies ain't as pleasant as it 

looks — 
They scarcely ever sees a Boer, except in picture 

They make a march of twenty mile, which leaves 'em 

nearly dead, 
And then they find the bloomin' Boers is twenty 

mile ahead ! 
Each " Footy " is as full of fight as any bulldog pup, 
But walking forty miles to fight — well, I'm Fed Up ! 

So, after all, I think that when I leave the Caval-ree 
I'll have to join the Ambulance, or else the A.S.C. 


Ours was no Bed of Roses 

There's always tucker in the plate and coffee in the 

But bully beef and biscuits — well, I'm fair Fed Up ! 


There appears to be some general misapprehen- 
sion as to the authenticity of the letter written by 
" Miss Bloemfontein " in our issue of yesterday. 
The Editors wish to state that the communication in 
question was written by a lady, a member of a well- 
known family in this city, and undoubtedly reflects 
with wit and frankness the feeling of many of those 
to whom the abandonment of this place to the Brit- 
ish forces has been a bitter disappointment. 



The newspapers of the world published a notice 
of the surrender of Bloemfontein on the evening of 
Thursday, March 15th. 

The Boers had wrecked the telegraph line to the 
south of the town ; to the west the field telegraph 
was useless ; yet perhaps not one reader in ten mil- 
lions stayed a moment to wonder how the news had 
reached them. 

When Lord Roberts left Doornboom the entire 
expedition was en I'aire. Telegraphic communication 


War's Brighter Side 

was at the mercy of the passing ox or the mahcioiis 
passer-by, rain and wind were ahnost equally de- 
structive, and the inevitable breakdown occurred. 
The wire, aerial or earth-borne, was useless in forty- 
eight hours, and, so far as outer communication 
was concerned, Bloemfontein and all around and 
within it might have been Tristan d'Acunha. 

But the London papers published the full ac- 
count of the surrender on the second day after the 

The manner in which news was sent to the Eng- 
lish papers may perhaps be of interest. It must 
be remembered that there was then no communica- 
tion with the south. It was impossible to pick up 
the cut wire north of Norval's Pont. The line from 
Kimberley to Boshof lies, even as we write, in a cat's 
cradle on the veldt. There was no option, the 
telegrams must be sent through Kimberley and by 
despatch riders. 

Perhaps it is truer to say that one or two Lon- 
don papers did so, for a certain number relied — and 
with justice — on the recuperative powers of Captain 
Faussett and his myrmidons of the wire. 

To ride a hundred miles across the veldt against 
time, and against at least two other competing 
riders, through the enemy's country, and at a mo- 
ment's notice, is not the least exciting occupation 
that can be chosen by a light-weight searching for 
a new sensation. 

It combines the certainty of hardship and dis- 
comfort with the possibility of being shot ; and over 

I lo 

Ours was no Bed of Roses 

and above all is the pressing need of saving every 
minute of time. 

Three despatch riders set out from Bloemfon- 
tein during the evening of Tuesday or the earliest 
dawn of Wednesday. First in order of starting 
was the Times messenger, second that of Reuter's 
Agency, third came the " angelos " of the Daily 

From Bloemfontein to Kimberley is, as we 
have said, a distance of a hundred miles. It is 
best understood by a Londoner by suggesting the 
comparison that he should be compelled to ride 
to Hereford every time he wished to despatch a 

Out from the isolated city the messengers 
went, making their way in the darkness or in the 
dawn over the red slushing tracks that had suf- 
fered the steady downpour of the night's rain, 
till, by whichever road they had moved out of 
Bloemfontein, they met at the battle-ground of 

From that point onwards the struggle became 
keen, and the breakdown of a horse meant a delay 
that might perhaps be reckoned in days rather than 
hours. The public that glances casually at the tele- 
grams of their morning papers does not often realise 
the importance of a few minutes to the correspond- 
ents whose work they are reading. In this case, 
besides the ordinary delay, the lonely riders that 
were making way across the veldt had to spur them 
on the risk of finding the Field Telegraph repaired 

9 III 

War's Brighter Side 

before they could reach the Diamond City, and the 
cable blocked witl; messages sent over their heads 
from Bloemfontein. 

Early in the great race the Times rider met with 
disaster. The horse he rode fell, and though the 
injury seemed slight enough at the time, never 
properly recovered itself, causing a delay of some 
hours before the next relay could be reached. 

But the Daily Mail was still more unlucky. 
Starting last of all, the well-known light-weight 
who carried the fortunes of the " largest circulation 
of this earth " made his. way forward through the 
fading light of Wednesday, gaining rapidly on his 
predecessors, and, confident in the excellent pro- 
vision made for him, was getting out of his mount 
the last pound of pace, when a cut corner flung him 
against a barbed wire fence, which so terribly 
lacerated his leg that further riding was out of the 

Binding up his scratches as best he might, he 
found himself compelled to walk back thirty-five 
miles to Bloemfontein, unable to ride, and at the 
journey's end almost unable to stand. 

So the Times and Reuter — each armed with a 
duplicate despatch from the Commander-in-Chief — 
were left to compete for the contingent advantage 
of getting first into Kimberley. 

And now was done a notable achievement. 
Browning, in his poem, " How we brought the 
Good News from Ghent to Aix," has chosen, by an 
odd accident, exactly the distance which divides 


Ours was no Bed of Roses 

Kimberley from Bloemfontein, but we can rest as- 
sured that the " good news " of the capture of the 
Boer capital sped on as fast as ever went the news 
across the flat plains of Flanders. 

Over the grey sage-brush of the veldt, over the 
high, dry grass, under the rare shade of poplar trees, 
where the horse was watered, along the red crumb- 
ling road or the mere beaten wheel track where a 
thousand waggons and twenty thousand animals 
had worn a temporary track, the hurrying hoof of 
the courier's mount lessened the long distance 
between the capital of the O.F.S. and the end of 
that wire of which the other lies in the capital of 
the world. 

In the afternoon of Wednesday three bullets 
whistled past the rider of the Agency, and the news- 
paper's courier had a similar experience at the same 
spot as he passed a little later. 

It soon became obvious that there was no possi- 
bility of getting into Kimberley in time to send the 
despatches before the office closed for the day, and 
the Times despatch rider took the latter stages of the 
journey more easily. Renter's man,^ however, con- 
tinued his ride at his utmost speed, and actually 
achieved what will long remain a record, travelling 
the entire distance on three horses in twenty hours 
and twenty minutes. 

The need for such lengthy despatch riding luck- 
ily seldom occurs, as the expense is one of the 

' Gilbert H. Stevens. 

War's Brighter Side 

heaviest items that can be incurred by newspaper 
representatives on behalf of their papers ; only in the 
very exceptional circumstances in which the war 
correspondents found themselves at the capture of 
Bloemfontein would the enormous expenditure be 



RuDYARD Kipling, Associate Editor 

A chapter which introduces a Prince, and tells of 
our Appeal to the whole Army to write for The 

The next day's issue, that of March 22nd, 
was the best-looking number we had produced. 
We dropped those little frames on either side of 
the title of the paper which journalists call 
" ears " or " ear-tabs," so that the front page 
looked dignified and ship-shape, and the title 
read simply The Friend, without its former 
addenda of '' Playing cards " and " Cue tips." 
In place of these we printed the royal coat-of- 
arms. This issue contained a heart-felt eulogy 
of Sir W. S. A. Lockhart by the Field Marshal. 

General Kelly in Camp Orders declared that 
hereafter horse thieves would be severely dealt 
with, and there appeared a notice by Prince 
Francis of Teck, " Staff Captain, Remount De- 
partment," that the army desired horses of cer- 


War's Brighter Side 

tain ages and a certain height, as well as agents 
to buy them. 

This reminds all who were at Bloemfontein 
how the Prince came and put up at the Bloem- 
fontein Hotel, and began to fill up an immense 
yard just on the edge of the town with a marvel- 
lous collection of veldt horses, all of which, I 
understood, he succeeded in buying at £25 
a-piece, though I had just paid £100 for a pair, 
and most men were giving £40 at the least for 
every horse. The Prince worked like a beaver 
all the time he was at Bloemfontein. 

There went to the stalwart and kindly Prince 
one day an artist who said he desired to surrender 
two mules which did not belong to him. It was 
not the truth that he desired to give them up, 
nor was it out of politeness that he told the false- 
hood. The fact was that the army had taken his 
horses and left him a pair of feeble, poorly ani- 
mated steeds of the clothes-horse pattern, which 
gave out on the long road between Poplar Grove 
and Bloemfontein. At the same time two 
healthy mules, astray on the veldt, evinced a 
yearning for human companionship, and insisted 
upon intruding themselves upon the company of 
the artist and his Basuto servant while they were 
preparing lunch. To go on with his own weak 
and sick animals was to invite a loss of locomo- 
tive power in a country infested with Boers. To 

Rudyard Kipling, Associate Editor 

make use of the fresher mules was the natural 
and obvious alternative. Therefore the artist 
abandoned his horses and went on with the 
mules. Arrived in Bloemfontein, he at once 
continued his travels by joining the '•' bill-stick- 
ing expedition " of General French over to Thab 
N'chu and the region beyond. 

*' Bill-sticking," by the w-ay, was our name 
for the distribution of copies of Lord Roberts's 
proclamation calling on the Boers to lay down 
their arms and sign a promise not to continue 
the war. When the artist returned to Bloem- 
fontein he was met by friends who said that he 
would certainly be shot if he was found to be 
using animals that did not belong to him. Lord 
Roberts had grown angry, it was said, and had 
exclaimed aloud that no matter who or what the 
man might be, the next offender in this respect 
should be shot. It was this stentorian cry, and 
not the still, small voice of conscience, that sent 
the artist to the Prince, to whom he told the 
truth and made formal surrender of the mules. 

" And very nice indeed it is of you," said the 
Prince, " very honest and straightforward. I will 
send some one to get the mules this afternoon." 

" But, I beg pardon," said the artist, " now 
everything's all right, isn't it? The mules were 
not mine, and I have surrendered them, and 
there's no trouble to follow? " 

War's Brighter Side 

" No, indeed," said Prince Francis, " I am 
much obliged to you. Animals are very scarce 
and we need all we can get ; so very good of you 
to do as you have done." 

" Well, now," said the artist, " won't you 
please let me keep the mules? The Army stole 
my horses and left me a broken-down pair. I 
had to turn them loose and take these mules 
or I should have been killed or captured by 
the Boers. I have nothing else to move on 
with. I wish you would let me keep the 

" Really," said the Prince, " I cannot do that. 
I never heard such a proposition in my life. I 
have no authority to do as you ask. Upon my 
word, this is most extraordinary. Come, I'll 
tell you what I will do. I'll see that you get a 
pair of animals at the Army price, I can't sell 
them to you or buy them for you, but I can have 
a pair put aside for you to buy of somebody 
who brings them in to sell." 

No one who was not there can form any idea 
of the extent to which this looting or com- 
mandeering of horses was then being practised. 
They were stolen not only from in front of the 
Club — the busiest spot in the heart of the town 
— but from before the headquarters of Lord 
Roberts, and from in front of the hotels. Men 
were desperate; so many were without horses. 

Rudyard Kipling, Associate Editor 

Sicknesses, slaughter, and overwork had left us 
with less than half the animals we needed. 

At about this time a foreign correspondent 
who was never guilty of taking even an aban- 
doned Boer horse, but who had purchased a fine 
animal of a negro on the veldt for five shillings, 
became very nervous over his purchase. He 
went to the stable and with the help of his serv- 
ant clipped the animal close, so that it no longer 
resembled the long-haired beast he had bought. 
Then he went out into the street and met a Boer 
who accused him of having taken his horse and 
who exactly described the animal in question. 
The Boer said he would report the case to Major 
Poore, the Provost-Marshal. The now fright- 
ened correspondent came to my room with his 
burden of sorrow^s, and stated his case to the 
company of oflficers, correspondents, and de- 
spatch-riders then present. 

" The Boer's name is Voorboom," he said, 
" and he is in earnest. I suppose I shall be sent 
home in disgrace." 

At the mention of the name three men spoke 
up saying that of all the rascals in need of a hang- 
ing this Voorboom was the sorriest. One had 
seen Boer combatants in Voorboom's house, an- 
other had seen Voorboom's brother trundling 
into a clump of bushes an English carriage which 
he had stolen, a third had met Voorboom and 


War's Brighter Side 

his negroes riding far and wide gathering up 
loose horses — English or Boer — which he was 
undoubtedly now bringing to town to sell to 
the Army, 

" Give him an hour in which to leave town 
or go to jail at Simon's Bay," said a Colonel, end- 
ing the incident. 

Mr. Kipling was in town at last and had 
promised us his assistance, but we could not then 
know whether this would be great or little; we 
could not have hoped or dreamed that it would 
prove a quarter or a third part of all our work, 
as it did. On the other hand, we were only too 
painfully aware that very little aid was being 
vouchsafed us. We found ourselves with a great 
newspaper on our hands, a newspaper with a gap- 
ing void of terrible dimensions. *' Renter " had 
promised its despatches to us, but these were not 
allowed on the crowded telegraph wires for days 
at a time, as it proved, and the whole burden was 
upon us joined to the necessity we felt to do our 
full duty to our newspapers at home — one at 
least of which demanded a despatch every day 
and four letters a week if possible. The army 
had been counted upon for valuable and volumi- 
nous help, and it was practically sending us in 
nothing. It was agreed that I should stir up the 
consciences and pens of all our friends and read- 
ers in an ink-blast, fierce and loud. I did this in 

1 20 

Rudyard Kipling, Associate Editor 

the editorial of the day entitled, " The Silent 
Army ": — 

Other armies (I wrote) have always been dis- 
tinguished by brilliant raconteurs. Other armies 
have always contained a plenitude of wits and 
humourists. Other armies have been noted for the 
abundance of funny anecdotes with which chum 
assailed chum and battalion guyed battalion. Other 
armies have taken note of the more striking deeds 
of prowess, of valour and of strategy which have 
been done among their members, and other armies 
have boasted poets grave, poets gay, poets rollick- 
ing, and poets who dedicated their verses to their 
mistress's eyebrows. 

Alas ! none of these things has this poor army — 
so poor in wit and literary talent, however rich it be 
in courage, patience, dogged persistence and proud 

This army is like a sponge for taking what enter- 
tainment the sweating editors of The Friend will 
give it. It is like a barnacle for fastening itself upon 
us and fattening its dead weight upon this little lit- 
erary bark. It is like a horse behind our waggon, 
which was built, like most vehicles, to have its 
horses in front. It is like the veldt around us in its 
capacity to swallow any amount of refreshing rain 
and yet appear as dry in four hours afterwards as if it 
were the pavement of that place which can only be 
referred to by the use of one particular anecdote, 
which is as follows : — 

" If I owned Satandom and South Africa," said 


War's Brighter Side 

a Canadian Tommy at Modder River, " I would 
rent out South Africa and live in Satandom." 

But we nearly digressed — a sin unpardonable in 
an article so important as this, written hot upon 
the impulse of suffering and keen feeling. 

The committee of war correspondents with Lord 
Roberts' army, who undertook to conduct, for the 
first time in history, a full-fledged complete daily 
newspaper published in an enemy's capital two days 
after the conquest thereof, are all busy men in their 
own line of industry. They have constant daily 
work to do, they are trusted by their own news- 
papers to devote their whole talents and energies to 
the interests of the public at home. Nevertheless 
they have turned aside to conduct this newspaper, 
they are doing so, and will continue to do so to the 
day the army pushes on and away. 

But in undertaking this task their idea was that 
they merely had to start the paper and give it a 
momentum, after which the army would turn to 
and flood the editorial sanctum with tales of humour, 
wit, and prowess writ upon sheets numberless as the 
leaves of Vallambrosa. 

The reader will gather that this has not yet taken 
place. He will infer that the war correspondents are, 
like the last rose of summer, left blooming to our- 
selves. True, two or three generous and gifted souls 
in the army have come nobly into the breach with 
contributions ; but the breach is nine columns wide 
— nine columns that persist in emptying themselves 
as fast as we fill them ; in fact, nine columns which 


Rudyard Kipling, Associate Editor 

become fifty-four columns between each Monday 
and the succeeding Saturday. It is on this account 
that when the two or three generous and talented 
army men flung themselves in the breach, the breach 
was not aware of the fact — and we have not had the 
heart to wake it up and notify it that it was being 
filled, not caring to tell a falsehood even to a silly 

Come, then, ye gentles and geniuses, ye poets, ye 
anecdotists, ye thrillers and movers with the pen — 
join our staff, and put your mighty little ink-damped 
levers to the rock that we are rolling up the gigantic 
kopje of your thirst for news and entertainment. 
Your pay shall be the highest ever meted out to 
man — the satisfaction of souls content. Your com- 
pany shall include a Kipling. Your readers shall 
be the bravest, noblest, proudest soldiers who ever 
served an earthly race. 

You can ask no more. You can ask nothing 

But in the meantime we want " copy." 

We published also a brief communication 
respecting the Dutch name Stellenbosch. This 
needs a word of explanation. It had long been 
noticed that whenever an of^ficer was prominently 
connected with a losing battle, or exhibited 
marked incompetence in any field of military 
w^ork, he got a billet at Stellenbosch, a bowery 
village deep down in the Cape Colony, where 
was established our base camp of supplies. The 


War's Brighter Side 

name therefore attained a deep significance and 
common usage in the army, and to say that a 
man had been " Stellenbosched " was but the 
ordinary poHte mode of mentioning what might 
otherwise have had to be said in many harsher- 
sounding words. 


(Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Force!) 


Whereas it is considerd necessary in the in- 
terests of the Orange Free State, and until arrange- 
ments may be made, that the provisions of the Cus- 
toms Convention existing between the said State 
and the Colony of the Cape of Good Hope, and the 
Colony of Natal, shall be duly observed, and the 
Laws and Regulations appertaining thereto shall be 
enforced as soon as communication between the said 
Colonies and such portions of the Orange Free 
State as have been or may hereafter be occupied by 
Her Majesty's troops is restored, and the customary 
commercial relations are resumed ; and whereas it is 
expedient that the necessary officers for the control 
and management of the Customs Department of the 
Orange Free St^te shall be appointed, 


I, Frederick Sleigh Baron Roberts of 
Khandahar. K.P.. G.C.B., G.C.S.L, G.C.LE., V.C, 

Rudyard Kipling, Associate Editor 

Field Marshal, Commanding-in-Chief of the British 
Forces in South Africa, do hereby nominate and 
appoint the following officers, to wit : — 

Collector of Customs — ^Johannes Henricus Meir- 

First Clerk — Albert C. Woodward. 

Second Clerk — Frederik Blignaut. 



It is evident from the sentences inflicted by the 
Provost Marshal that the military authorities are 
wisely determined to repress all forms of lawlessness 
and unruliness on the part of native boys with a 
firm hand. Take the following three cases by way 
of illustration : — 

No. I. Boy: 28 lashes for resisting Military 
Police in discharge of their duty while arresting him. 

No. 2. Two Boys : 25 lashes each for being 
drunk and fighting. 

No. 3. 27 Boys : 5 lashes each for being dis- 
orderly and having no pass after 9 o'clock. 

At the conclusion of the above cases of the day 
the Provost Marshal called the native police before 
him and complimented them on the good work they 
had done. 

When the British entered Bloemfontein there 
was general rejoicing in the native " location," but it 
is impossible to insist too plainly that the clemency 

War's Brighter Side 

of British rule will not extend to violent, drunken, 
and disorderly persons, whether they be white or 


Army Headquarters, Government House, 

Bloemfontein, March 20, 1900. 
I. Death of Commatider-in-Chicf in India. 

It is with deep regret that the Field Marshal, 
Commanding-in-Chief, announces to the Army in 
South Africa the death of His Excellency Sir W. 
S. A. Lockhart, G.C.B., K.C.S.I., Commander-in- 
Chief in India, which occurred at Calcutta on the 
evening of the i8th of March, 1900. 

Lord Roberts is sure that his own feelings will be 
shared by every Ofificer and Soldier who has served 
under Sir William Lockhart's command, and more 
particularly by those who have been personally 
acquainted with him. 

After a long and varied Military career, which 
began in Abyssinia, time of the Mutiny, and which 
included war service in Acheen, Afghanistan, Burma, 
The Black Mountain, Wazeristan, Isazai, and finally 
the command of the Terah Expeditionary Force, 
Sir William Lockhart was appointed to the Chief 
Command in India. Possessed of exceptional abil- 
ity, he distinguished himself alike as a Staff Officer 
and as a commander in the field, and by his uniform 
kindness and consideration he endeared himself to 
all who came in contact with him. In the late Com- 

Rudyard Kipling, Associate Editor 

mander-in-Chief the Soldiers in India, both British 
and Native, have lost a friend whose only thought 
was to further their interests and promote their wel- 
fare, and the Indian Empire has lost a trusted Coun- 
cillor who, on account of his intimate knowledge of 
the Native races, and his acquaintance with Eastern 
affairs, cannot soon or easily be replaced. 

2. Amendment. 

With reference to Army Order No. 5 (b) of 4th 
March, for Captain R. H. Hall read Captain R. 
H. Hare. 

3. Telegrams. 

The Field Marshal Commanding-in-Chief has 
great pleasure in publishing the following telegram 
which has been received : — 

From Sirdar Khan, Bahadur Casim, Haji Ma- 
homed Khansahib, Kazi Mahommed Ali Murshaj. 
Bombay Mahomedans offer your Lordship, your 
gallant Officers and Soldiers hearty congratulations 
on brilliant success Transvaal, and pray Almighty 
crown efforts greater success and honours. 
By order, 

W. Kelly, M. General, 
D. A. General. 

Trek, trek, trek, 

On the wild South African veldt, 
With anthills here and anthills there 
And holes and ruts, you're inclined to swear, 
10 127 

War's Brighter Side 

For your mokes will religiously take you o'er 
These impediments by the score, 
But you trek, trek, trek. 

Trek, trek, trek. 
With a heart as heavy as lead, 
P'or the comrades who have bit the dust 
Whilst fighting for a cause that's just. 
With bootless feet and clothing torn, 
From chilly night to dewy morn 
You trek, trek, trek. 

Trek, trek, trek, 
There's nothing to do but trek, 
While your mules half starved and done to death, 
And yourself ditto and out of breath, 
You wish to Heaven the war was o'er 
And you say sweet ( ?) things of the cunning Boer, 
But you trek, trek, trek. 


To the Editors of " The Friend," Sirs : — In the 
course of a lengthy experience I have heard many 
quaint conceits and many hard swear words, and 
have kept a small notebook in which I have jotted 
down anything especially new. I was the unwill- 
ing auditor the other day of a quarrel between 
two individuals whose rank and profession shall 
be nameless. The conversation became very ani- 
mated, and finally one exclaimed with savage 

Rudyard Kipling, Associate Editor 

irony, " Oh, go to Stellenbosch ! " Fortunately 
some passers-by interrupted the fracas or else I 
verily believe blows would have been exchanged. 
Now you, sirs, with your opportunities of know- 
ing many lands and varied languages, may perhaps 
be able to inform me where this place is and why 
the request to go there should have caused such 
fury and such agitation on the part of the individual 
addressed. It will be a relief to the consciences 
of Her Majesty's lieges if the time-honoured 

" D " can be relegated to the limbo of forgotten 

oaths in favour of such an apparently innocent ex- 
pression. I write in all innocence, as no man likes 
to use a phrase, especially such a potent one, with- 
out understanding its meaning. — Faithfully yours, 


[We believe that the place mentioned was located 
somewhere in the Arctic Regions by the Jackson 
expedition. — Eds.] 



Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

Like a beehive for industry when Rudyard Kipling 
went to lunch with the Field-Marshal 

Rudyard Kipling was paying visits and 
getting acquainted with the local situation. He 
had left his wife and family at the far-famed 
Mount Nelson Hotel — the " Helot's Rest," as a 
statesman had called it — with its strange assem- 
bly of Rand and Kimberley millionaires, and 
other refugees from the two republics, its army 
officers, both of the invalid and the idle class, 
its censors, war correspondents, sightseers, and 
ladies longing to get to the more exciting front. 

I first saw Mr. Kipling there, and now found 
him tenanting a bedroom across the passage from 
my own in the Free State Hotel at Bloemfontein. 
When I went to shake his hand he was in the 
room of W. B. Wollen, the artist, and one of 
those men who having nothing good to say, are 
never content to stop there, was exclaiming, " Is 
it possible that I have the honour to meet the 
author of ' The Absent-Minded Beggar '? " 

Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

"Yes," said Kipling, "I have heard that 
piece played on a barrel-organ, and I would shoot 
the man who wrote it if it would not be suicide." 

A man of such broad build and short neck 
that you do not realise him to be above the 
average stature, wearing a broad-brimmed, flat 
brown hat of Boer pattern, and below that a 
brown short coat and very full trousers to match ; 
a vigorous figure, quick in movement as a pan- 
ther, quicker still in speech; a swinging and roll- 
ing figure with head up and hat well back out of 
the way of his sight which is ever thrown upward 
as if he searched the sky while he walked. His 
face is quite a match for his body, being round 
and wide as well as wide-eyed and open. His 
eyes are its most notable features, for they are 
very large and open, and each one is arched by 
the bushiest of black eyebrows. They are ha- 
bitually reflective and sober eyes, but, like a flash, 
they kindle with fun, and can equally quickly 
turn dull and stony when good occasion arises. 
It is not the typical poet's or scholar's face so 
much as it is the face of the man among men, the 
out-of-door man, the earnest, shrewd observer 
and the impressible hard worker. 

It happened that both of us were to pay our 
respects to the Field-Marshal at the Residency 
in the same day, and both were invited to lunch. 
Of course, Mr. Kipling knew Lord Roberts very 


War's Brighter Side 

well — had seen much of him in India, where they 
had been both friends and mutual admirers. We 
went to the Residency together. There we met 
a very kindly and hospitable young gentleman 
who asked us who we were and offered us a visit- 
ors' book in which to record our signatures. To 
him we were presently introduced and found him 
to be none other than the Duke of Westminister, 
who, as Lord Belgrave, had at an earlier stage 
been with Sir Alfred Milner at the Cape. His 
Grace proffered us refreshment of the coveted 
sort, which, as we have seen, was quoted at lis. 
a bottle " on a rising market," and then he con- 
ducted us to the great drawing-room with its 
strong suggestion of the grandeur of a ruler's 
residence, despite its garish wall-paper and its 
puckered-up carpet. 

The whole Residency was like a beehive for 
industry. In the dining-room privates were ham- 
mering away upon typewriters, and officers were 
supplying them with copy. We peeped into the 
large ball-room, and lo! it was appointed with 
many desks at which members of the illustrious 
and aristocratic staff of the Field-Marshal were 
hard at work with pens and ink. Even in the 
drawing-room, the merely ornamental desks and 
tables were strewn with documents at which far 
from merely ornamental lords were writing. 

When lunch was announced we found the 

Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

dining-hall set with two tables — a very long one 
for the stafif, and a very small one at its head for 
Lord Roberts. Mr. Kipling sat with the Field- 
Marshal, while I was placed between Lord Stan- 
ley and Lord Herbert Scott at the big table. I 
was not impressed by any unlooked-for excel- 
lence in the simple meal with which we were 
served. I had lived better on the open veldt 
whenever I had been able to get at my Cape 
cart, and the boxes I had stored in it. But the 
flow of wit and the hospitality and courtesy that 
were shown to me would have rendered worse 
fare beyond reproach. 

After the meal Lord Stanley introduced me 
to the Field-Marshal, and my very first words 
caused those who do not know how great and 
broad a man he is, to think that I had offended 
Lord Roberts. 

" I am very proud to know you, General," 
I said. 

We talked for a few moments of trifling 
things, merely by way of making acquaintance. 

" You called him 'General '; you should have 
said * Sir,' or ' Lord Roberts,' " said those who 
were concerned about the episode. 

" The highest rank and title in the American 

Army is 'General,'" said I; "and in that way 

Washington, Grant, and all our leaders were 

saluted. Lord Roberts spoke of my being an 


War's Brighter Side 

American. I am sure he understands how I came 
to make a mistake, while, at the same time, pay- 
ing him the highest respect." 

Our newspaper showed that we were getting 
on rapidly with the new forces of administration 
— the outcome, first, of Lord Roberts's brain, 
and, next, of the extraordinary industry at the 
Residency. That most skilful of military rail- 
way engineers, Colonel E. P. C. Girouard, who, 
while head of the Egyptian Railways was also 
restoring our wrecked lines and manning them 
efficiently, announced in our 6th number (March 
23rd), that the daily train to the south would 
leave at 7 a.m., and the train from the south 
would arrive at twenty-six minutes after mid- 
night each day. 

The Gordon Club opposite the Cathedral was 
to be reopened next day. The Wesleyan Church 
announced a parade service for the coming Sun- 
day. The Presbyterian Church announced its 
meetings for the week. Services at the English 
Cathedral were also advertised. The Army 
Sports began on this date. Major Lorimer, of 
the Cape Police, came with a trooper and some 
despatch riders and was taken on the strength. 
C. V. F. Townshend, A.A.G. to the Military 
Governor, grappled with the negro problem in 
a warning notice that all natives must be indoors 
by eight o'clock p.m. unless possessed of a special 


Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

permit, and that dancing and drunkenness in the 
streets would meet with severe punishment. 

We published a very informing and authori- 
tative editorial upon martial law, which one of 
the editors was at some pains to secure. I have 
a strong idea that it was written either by Gen- 
eral Pretyman or Major Poore, but I have no 
means for making certain. 

James Barnes, the distinguished American 
correspondent, who very kindly and with able 
results, took my place as correspondent of the 
Daily Mail when I was invalided home, wrote for 
this number a comparison between this and some 
recent American wars. 

We led the paper with the full text of Mr. 
Kipling's poem, only one verse of which had 
reached us a week before. 




(Owing to the exigencies of war, we were unable 
at the time to print more than one stanza of Mr. Kip- 
ling's poem, which we now present in its entirety.) 

Oh, Terence, dear, and did ye hear 
The news that's going round? 

The Shamrock's Erin's badge by law 
Where'er her sons are found ! 

War's Brighter Side 

From Bobsfontein to Ballyhack 
'Tis ordered by the Queen — 

We've won our right in open fight, 
The Wearin' of the Green ! 

We sailed upon commando 

To vierneuk our Brother Boer — 
A landlord and a Protestant, 

What could the bhoys want more? 
But Redmond cursed and Dillon wept, 

And swore 'twas shame and sin ; 
So we went out and commandeered 

The Green they dared not win. 

'Twas past the wit of man, they said. 

Our North and South to join — 
Not all Tugela's blood could flood 

The black and bitter Boyne ; 
But Bobs arranged a miracle 

(He does it now and then), 
For he'll be Duke of Orange, sure, 

So we'll be Orange men ! 

Take hold ! The Green's above the red. 

But deep in blood 'tis dyed. 
We plucked it under Mauser-fire 

Along the trenched hill-side : 
Talana's rush, the siege, the drift. 

The Fight of Fourteen Days, 
Bring back what's more than England's rose 

And dearer than her praise ! 

Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

God heal our women's breaking hearts 

In Ireland far away ! 
An' Mary tell the news to those 

That fell before this day — 
Dear careless bhoys that laughed and died 

By kopje and fontein — 
Our dead that won the living prize — 

The Wearin' of the Green ! 

RuDYARD Kipling. 
[Copyright in England and the U. S. A.] 


In times like the present when military matters 
are discussed by all classes of society, both by sol- 
diers and civilians, the question of the law, by which 
discipline and law, not only among the troops, but 
also the civil population in the country they occupy 
are maintained, frequently arises, and the terms 
" Martial Law " and " Military Law " are often 
made use of as if they meant the same thing. It 
is to explain this that the following is written. 

" Military Law " is the Law which governs the 
soldier in peace and in war, at home and abroad. 
It is administered under the Army Act which is part 
of the Statute Law of England, and which, by special 
provision, must be brought into, and continue in 
force, by an annual Act of Parliament. 

With an army in the field, certain persons, not 

War's Brighter Side 

soldiers, are also subject to the provisions of " Mili- 
tary Law," such as civilians serving with the force 
in an official capacity; persons accompanying the 
troops with special leave, such as newspaper cor- 
respondents and contractors; persons employed 
with the troops, such as transport drivers; other 
persons known as followers who accompany the 
troops either as sutlers or on business or pleasure 
with the permission of the commander. 

" Martial Law," on the other hand, is only opera- 
tive in war. It is in fact no law at all, and has been 
accurately defined as the " will of the conqueror." 
The expression " Customs of War " would perhaps 
better define what is meant by " Martial Law," be- 
cause the word Law conveys the idea to most people 
of an enactment containing a fixed and rigid rule 
which must be obeyed, and which, if disobeyed, will 
involve punishment. 

This " Law " or " Custom " is applicable to all 
persons and inhabitants not subject to " Military 
Law " residing within the foreign country or that 
portion of it occupied by the troops, and also within 
districts under British rule abroad, which, in con- 
sequence of riot or rebellion, are so declared to be 
subject to " Martial Law " by proclamation. 

It will thus be seen that a commander of troops 
in time of war acts in two distinct capacities. First, 
he governs the troops by " Military Law " only ; 
secondly, in his position of governor of the country 
he occupies, he imposes such laws or rules on the 
inhabitants as in his opinion are necessary to secure 


Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

the safety of his army, and also the good govern- 
ment of the district which, by reason of the war or 
rebellion, may for the time have been deprived of 
its ordinary rulers and the machinery for maintain- 
ing order. 

For the purpose of administering " Martial 
Law " or the " Customs of War " no rules or regu- 
lations are absolutely laid down, but certain customs 
exist among civilised nations which are generally 

At the present time the practice in force is that, 
when practicable, " Martial Law " should only sup- 
plement the civil procedure, but when the civil 
Government is absent or, in consequence of war, 
is paralysed, " Martial Law " must of necessity re- 
place the civil. 

In administering " Martial Law " by a Military 
Court the ordinary procedure recognised by Mili- 
tary Law " is followed. This is done because the 
Military Court would be composed of military offi- 
cers whose training would make them conversant 
with such procedure, and because some uniformity 
in administering justice would thus be ensured. 


We wish to draw the attention of the troops of 
all ranks to the benefits which the use of the Public 
Free Library offers. 

A Branch of the Standard Bank is being opened 


War's Brighter Side 

in Colonnade Buildings under the direction of Mr. 
M. D, Savory, late Manager of the Oudtshoorn 

The Powerful' s contingent of the Naval Brigade, 
consisting of twenty-nine men and four officers, left 
by yesterday's train for Capetown. Mr. Midship- 
man Lewin, who is in command, has the honour of 
carrying despatches. 

The great want of Bloemfontein just now is some 
place of light recreation and refreshment to which 
weary soldiers and civilians can repair after the 
labour of the day is ended. It is premature, of 
course, to expect anything so pretentious as the 
Alhambra or Tivoli of London fame, but the re- 
sources of the capital of the Orange Free State 
should be at least equal to the provision and equip- 
ment of a hall v/here songs and various forms of 
light entertainment might be presented nightly. Al- 
ready there is talk of an enterprising agent pro- 
ceeding to Capetown with the object of retaining 
the necessary artistes, who may be expected here as 
soon as the railway communication is open to the 
general public ; but for present purposes there is 
sufficient talent amongst our soldiers and sailors 
and the townspeople to tide over the emergency. 
A committee of amusement with a good man as 
chairman is required, and the rest, with the per- 
mission of the military authorities, should be toler- 
able easy. The drums and pipes of the Highland 
regiments continue to do valiant service in the 
market square, but the time is surely come when 


Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

entertainment on a more ambitious programme 
might be contemplated. 


"KnowBinks? Of course. Everybody does — 
local major, staff something at Headquarters of 
loth Division — devilish useful chap to know." 

Yes, Major Binks ; but three short months ago 
I was only young Binks of the Buffers, arriving at 
Blankfontein to take charge of a Transport Com- 
pany ; I had no experience, and no instructions, ex- 
cept to " lick 'em into shape," and I felt like the title 
of a book, " Alone in South Africa." Not quite 
alone after all, for I had Wopples with me ; Wopples 
being the servant my old uncle, Major Stodger, had 
found for me. " He'll kill your horses, of course, 
and lose your kit, but he was our mess corporal in 
the Blazers for fourteen years, and he'll pull you 

After asking many questions and getting no an- 
swers, I found a seething mass of mules, waggons, 
and blacks, which turned out to be my company, 
and in the midst of it was a person of evidently 
some importance, who turned out to be the con- 
ductor. His natural perimeter was nearly doubled 
by the packets of papers which bulged from every 
pocket, and he was addressing the crowd in a variety 
of bad languages when I introduced myself, not 
without trepidation, as his new C."C."0. His smile 


War's Brighter Side 

was reassuring and patronising. " Oh, that'll be all 
right, sir; we're getting along nicely — but the 
Major's coming round to-morrow — commands the 
station, he does — and wastes a lot of time. Now, if 
you could offer him a bit of breakfast " 

Next morning the Major rode up ; he was a 
melancholy-looking man with an absent manner. 
Before I could introduce the subject he said he 
would not interrupt me if I were having breakfast ; 
I begged him to join me, but he said he never could 
eat at that hour, but he might as well come in — per- 
haps he might manage a cup of tea. He managed 
one cup, and then another, after which he brightened 
up a lot and managed porridge, fried liver, curried 
mutton, and half a tin of jam. After one of my 
cigars (also selected by uncle) he rode away, re- 
marking that he was glad to find they'd sent up 
somebody at last who had a grasp of things — he 
felt he could rely on me. 

Next day I was appointed his assistant. When 
I reported myself he said he wanted somebody 
whom he could leave in the office in case he had 
to go out — there was no other definite job for me 
just then ; meanwhile I might as well look after the 
mess. I did so, or rather Wopples did so. 

One evening the Major seemed somewhat upset, 
" Look here, Binks, the Brigadier is coming round 
to-morrow to discuss a defence scheme; he's in- 
clined to fuss a lot; I've got to go out myself on 
duty, but you'd better stay in and have a lot of 
breakfast ready; I think you might almost run to 


Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

a tin of sausages." Next morning the Brigadier 
rode up all alone at full gallop, scrambled off his 
horse, and began to shout, " Come along, come 
along ; mustn't waste time on active service ; got 
fifty things to settle to-day ! Here's my brigade on 
this side of the river — now tell me at once where 
every man on the other side is posted " — here he fell 
over Wopples. " Who the deuce ! — what, breakfast, 
eh? Well, well, must eat, even on service. I can 
spare five minutes. Come along." He rushed into 
my tent and spared five minutes. The five minutes 
prolonged themselves to ten minutes, then to an 
hour and a quarter, after which the Brigadier 
slept so sweetly that I had no heart to waken him. 
About 3 o'clock he woke with a sort of explosion, 
shouted for his horse, and galloped off talking 
as hard as ever. • 

Next morning I was appointed his extra A.D.C. 
with rank of Captain. " There'll be a lot of work 
for you later on," the Brigade-Major said, " but no 
bustle just now; meanwhile you might look after 
the mess." Again we did so. I was left in camp 
one day when the Brigade had gone out to do some- 
thing — " Somebody must be left in charge, and, by 
the by, have a bit of something ready in case we 
come back hungry." I was reading the advertise- 
ment sheets of a paper six weeks old when Wopples 
rushed in. " Lord Upington, sir, stafif boss at 
Divisional Headquarters, just a'comin' up the road! 
Wot a chance it is ! Why, if he don't know what 
good living means — well, I'm a Boer ! " 

" 143 

War's Brighter Side 

Wopples was too much of an artist to overdo 
things — there was just a taste of porridge — not 
enough to spoil one's appetite, a partridge with full 
complements of bread-sauce and red pepper, mar- 
row-bones with hot toast and a nip of whisky, black 
coffee and cigars; where it had all sprung from 
goodness only knows. 

When his lordship departed he said he would not 
forget me; his heart and other organs were so full 
that he quite forgot to mention the pressing business 
on which he had come. 

Next morning I was appointed signalling officer 
to the Division. I had never done a signalling class, 
and pointed this out to the D.A.G., but he said it 
didn't matter, what they wanted was a really useful 
man to supervise generally the signalling business. 
Of course, just at present there was no signalling 
as we were on a wire ; meanwhile I might take over 
the mess. Before the words were out of his mouth 
Wopples had taken the mess over; he had sacked 
two black cooks, discarded the mess pots in favour 
of his own, taken the measures of the mess stores, 
and was getting on with lunch. By that even- 
ing my position as an ornament to the staff was 

It was at something drift that we gave our first 
official dinner; we had secured a roomy farmhouse 
with some bits of furniture, so, relying on Wop- 
ples, we launched into hospitality. And Wopples 
had surpassed himself. There was a haunch of 
venison which brought tears of joy to the five 


Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

eyes of the three generals who partook of it — • 
no mere common haunch, there were several such 
in camp that night — this was a hayinch that had 
been through the hands of Wopples. Then there 
was his extra special entree — but that is another 

It was a dinner that might be eaten, but could 
never be described. 

Next day I was gently approached by many red 
tabs. The Provost-Marshal said I was just the sort 
of chap for his department if I'd care to come ; a 
R.E. enthusiast told me that a balloon was the only 
place for a real good view of a show and " he'd 
work the matter for me " ; somebody on the intel- 
ligence said there was a real well-paid billet he'd 
been keeping open on purpose for me ; and two of 
the generals declared piteously that they could not 
get on without my services. The third general had 
not recovered the dinner, but sent a grinning A.D.C. 
to represent him. 

After that his lordship shut me and Wopples up 

together in his own room and kept guard outside 

himself. " We'll take care of you, Binks ; we'll get 

you made a local major, and you shall ride the 

general's horse as you've lost all your own. I'll 

find you a Tommy's blanket, by Jove I will! and 

demme, I'll give you my own second shirt ; but I'll 

be shot if you leave our camp, my boy — shot and 

starved ! " 



War's Brighter Side 



The writer, an American, who served during the 
Cuban war, has been asked to compare the present 
heated argument with the late unpleasantness in the 

It is rather difficult to draw any comparisons 
between this war in South Africa and the late con- 
flict in Cuba. It is like comparing two games 
differing in rules and methods, and resembling one 
another only in the fact that they are played with 
bat and ball. 

One of the strange things about the war in the 
West Indies was this — when it was over the world 
waited for the lesson, and there was none in the 
proper sense of the word. The God of battles must 
have been with America from start to finish ; ours 
was the good fortune ; we had all the luck. It was 
a series of miracles. Naval men waited to see the 
great things torpedo-boats would accomplish, and 
two of the much-dreaded machines were sunk by a 
millionaire's pleasure-craft transformed into a gun- 
boat. Vessels with armoured belts and protective 
decks were set on fire in the old-fashioned way 
by exploding shells igniting their wood-work. 
Dewey's victory at Manila was accomplished with- 
out loss of life on the American side, and Sampson's 
victory at Santiago was almost as wonderful — but 
one man killed and a few slightly wounded. 


Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

Army experts waited for the results of the use of 
long-range magazine rifles, smokeless powder, and 
high explosives, yet trenches and hills defended by 
men with Mausers were stormed and taken by men 
with Krag-Jorgensens in their hands in the old- 
fashioned way — a steady advance and a rushing 
charge to clinch it. Caney and San Juan Hill were 
old-fashioned fights with the exception of the fact 
that men were killed miles in the rear by the straying 
droves of bullets and never saw an enemy. 

As in this war the losses did not compare to 
those of some hand-to-hand conflicts of the Rebel- 
lion, and many wounds that in the old days would 
have proved fatal, thanks to the merciful Mauser, 
amounted to very little. Perhaps to offer explana- 
tion of some strange occurrences of the Cuban war 
would be disparaging to the Spaniards. Perhaps the 
least that can be said is that in the main the Dons 
were shocking poor shots, and they had been so 
weakened by disease and hunger that they had not 
much fight left in them when it came to cold steel 
and clubbed muskets. The great losses in Cuba 
were from fevers, not from bullets. It is in the con- 
ditions and environments that the chief difference lies 
between the war here and the war over there. And 
it is from this present conflict that the world will 
learn. The Philippine war, costly as it was in life 
and money, was nothing but a series of victories 
over a half-civilised enemy. But interest in it in 
America, strange to say, dwindled to little or noth- 
ing after the first gunshot in South Africa. 


War's Brighter Side 

Here was a different state of affairs. Cuba (for 
Puerto Rico was a " walk over ") was a country full 
of dense forests and tangled undergrowth, offering a 
screen as well as a hindrance to the movements of 
an army. South Africa is the greatest defensive 
country in the world, and the Boer is trained by 
nature and inheritance to make the best of it. Yet 
it took time to teach some of the English military 
leaders to adapt themselves to the new conditions — 
it was hard for them to break away from the tradi- 
tions of Waterloo and Badajos. The Mauser began 
to correct the old ideas of warfare in a way that it 
had failed to do in Cuba. The prophecies in Bloch's 
remarkable book were fulfilled almost to the letter. 
Proper scouting in an open country is a dead de- 
partment of military service. How long did we 
lie at Modder River without knowing anything of 
value of the movements of the enemy? A series 
of kopjes might conceal a few sharpshooters or an 
army — at a mile's distance scouts were under the 
fire of an invisible foe. A good shot ensconced 
between sheltering rocks discounted four men ad- 
vancing in the open. In Cuba the American troops 
were harassed by marksmen concealed in tree-tops 
who often fired upon them from the rear, but the 
forces opposed to them in front were mostly in- 
fantry, and the problem resolved itself into a contest 
between individual soldiers as fighting units. It 
was a soldiers' conflict. 

A war in a country such as we have been fighting 
over for the last five months admits of one thing 


Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

only — the strategic movements of a military genius. 
The generalship of a great leader is a necessity. 
Bravery is well-nigh wasted and courage almost 
discounted. Mobility of force is essential, forces 
operating at great distances but under one central 
head are a sine qua non, and in long-range artillery 
lies the preponderancy of power. More and more 
does the great game approximate the moves in a 
chess problem. It must be admitted that in Cuba 
there were no such scientific movements, and it has 
taken the march of Lord Roberts from Enslin to 
Bloemfontein to prove the fact beyond question that 
soldiers' battles, where one side is entrenched and 
invisible and the other advancing in attack, are 
things of the past, except in a wooded country or 
where all preliminary movements are concealed. 
We had soldiers' battles here, but by fighting them 
the lesson has been taught from which the world 
will learn. 


On Tuesday, March 20th, Lord Roberts enter- 
tained the following Military Attaches, accredited by 
the Great Powers to his staff, at dinner at Govern- 
ment House: 

Colonel Stakovitch, Russia ; Commandant 
d'Amadi, France ; Major Esteben, Spain ; Captain 
Baron V. Luttwitz, Germany; Captain Slocum, 
America ; Captain Hieroka, Japan. 


War's Brighter Side 

There were also invited the following to meet the 
distinguished guests : Lieut. General Sir H. Colvile, 
Lieut. General Kelly-Kenny, Major General Sir W. 
Nicholson, Major General Pretyman, Major General 
Wood, Major General Marshall, Major General 
Pole-Carew, Major General Gorden, The Very 
Revd. Dean of Bloemfontein, the Hon'ble Mr. J. G. 
Fraser ; the Private Secretary ; the Military Secre- 
tary ; Major General Kelly, Colonel Richardson, Mr. 
Justice Hopley, Colonel Stevenson, Colonel Vis- 
count Downe, Lieut. Colonel Otter, Captain Bear- 
croft, Lieut. Colonel Ricardo, Colonel H. C. Chol- 
mondeley. Colonel Lord Stanley, Reverend H. J. 
Coney, Lieut. Colonel Byron, A.D.C., Captain Lord 
Herbert Scott, A.D.C. 

After the Queen's health had been drunk. Lord 
Roberts, in a happy little speech in which he pro- 
posed the health of the foreign Attaches, said that he 
had much regretted while in Capetown not having 
been able to entertain the Attaches, but now he felt 
some satisfaction at not having been able to do it, as 
he was able to entertain them as comrades, while at 
Capetown they would only have been representatives 
of foreign Powers. He had often been distressed 
at seeing the Attaches undergoing many discomforts 
on the march. But it had shown him that they were 
officers devoted to their duty, and regardless of all 
discomforts. He had not heard complaint or mur- 
mur of discontent at their want of comfort, in fact, 
the only complaint made was one to Lord Downe in 
which Attaches represented to him that he, with a 


Lord Roberts's Headquarters 

regard for their personal safety, had not allowed 
them to go as close as they could wish to the passing 
line. It had been a great pleasure to see them there 
that night, and he hoped before long to be able to 
entertain them again in Pretoria. 

Colonel Stakovitch, the Russian Attache, repHed, 
saying how pleasant it had been for him and his 
comrades to accompany the British Army on their 
great and successful march. He thanked the Field 
Marshal for his kindness and courtesy to them, and 
wound up by proposing the health of Lord Roberts 
and his army, to which Lord Roberts made a suit- 
able reply. 

The band of the Bufifs played a selection of music 
during dinner. 

The Austrian Attache was unavoidably absent, 
having left on a short visit to Capetown, 



■ " Oh, How Good it Was! " 

All Ranks join our Corps of Contributors, and the 
Paper Sparkles 

Generals, colonels, majors, captains, subal- 
terns, privates, war correspondents who had not 
connected themselves with our venture, naval 
officers — all ranks and all sorts, suddenly rushed 
to our support, in consequence of my wail for 
help, and The Friend took on an interest 
greater, I truly think, than that of any newspaper 
then published in the language. Its circulation 
rose among the thousands where the largest daily 
distribution had been only 400 copies before 
the war. 

We numbered the paper of March 24th " No. 
6," though it was in reality the eighth copy we 
had published, six being the number since we 
had enlarged it to its final size. I marvel at our 
success as I look back upon this number. 

Sir William Nicholson, K.C.B., wrote an ap- 
preciation of the character, life, and work of the 

"Oh, How Good it Was!" 

late Sir William Lockhart; General Sir Henry 
E. Colvile sent us a double acrostic, which the 
Dutch ones among our eccentric compositors 
ruined so far beyond repair that it would not be 
just to reproduce its mangled remains; Mr, 
Lionel James, who had come over from the Natal 
side to further distinguish the staff of the Times, 
wrote upon the death of our gifted colleague, 
George W. Steevens. Rudyard Kipling con- 
tributed to this number the first of his delicious 
''Fables for the Staff"; a distinguished officer 
who shall remain nameless in this connection, 
contributed an article on " Beards in War "; and 
Mr. Gwynne began a series of letters entitled " Is 
the Art of War Revolutionised? " written solely 
to interest the Army and spur its thinking men 
to respond. 

Mr. H. Prevost Battersby, of the London 
Morning Post, was another distinguished con- 
tributor to this number. 

Mr. Kipling now became a regular harnessed 
member of the four-in-hand team that pulled the 
paper. With pen in hand and pipe in mouth he 
sat at the larger of the two tables in our editorial 
pokehole, and beginning with a " Now, what 
shall I do? Write a poem, or a fable, or correct 
proofs? " would fall to and toil away with an 
enthusiasm born of the long time it had been 
since he had " smelled the sawdust of the ring." 


War's Brighter Side 

'' Oh, how good it is to be at work in a news- 
paper office again!" he exclaimed on the first 
day, doubtless with recollections of the sanctum 
of the Allahabad Pioneer strong upon him, and 
the memory of the time when the precursors of 
the '' Plain Tales " and of the Barrack Room 
Ballads were demanded of him almost every day, 
and gave him the practice to produce the care- 
fully finished and matured work we are now see- 
ing in the novel " Kim," at which he was at 
work — in the laboratory of his mind — even as 
he sat with us in Bloemfontein. 

We wondered at his enthusiasm, and, per- 
haps, had it not been of his doing, we should 
have resented the impetus it gave us to toil as 
never war correspondents worked before — all 
day for The Friend and far into the nights to 
catch the mails with our home correspondence. 
But we soon came to see that the same tremen- 
dous energy and ceaseless flow of wit and fancy 
were his by nature, and would have found ex- 
pression as well in a tent on the veldt as in that 
office. He was always while with us like a great 
healthy boy in spirits and vitality, good humour, 
and enterprise. 

With us he yelled " Haven't any; go to Bar- 
low's shop around the corner," to the Tommies 
who trod on one another's heels to get copies of 
the paper from us who had not got them. With 


"Oh, How Good it Was!" 

us he consigned the Dutch compositor to eons 
of boiHng torment for the trouble his errors gave 
us. With u^ he entertained Lord Stanley, who 
now came, out of kindness, at noon every day, to 
save us the trouble of sending our proof-sheets 
over to him at his ofifice. And from us he insisted 
upon taking all the " Tommy poetry," as we 
called it, that came to the of^ce. When we de- 
rided much of it as outrageous twaddle, he 
praised its quality. On this day, I remember, 
we were belittling a particular poem that he was 
reading, and he called out, " Why, that is splen- 
did stufif! Listen to these lines — ' Rule Britan- 
nia, Britannia rules the waves: Britons never, 
never, never shall be slaves! ' " The reader will 
find this particular poem in the paper — put there 
by our distinguished poetry editor. 




King Log and King Stork 

by rudyard kipling 


Certain Boers, having blown up a Bridge, de- 
parted in the Face of the British Army, which, ar- 

' Copyrighted in England and America; used here by Mr. 
Kipling's leave. 

War's Brighter Side 

riving at that dynamited Place, made Outcry to the 
Gods, saying, " Oh, Jupiter, these Ruffians have 
blocked the Traffic, and we are vastly incommoded. 
Is there Anything worse than the Boer ? " 

This being reported to the Railway Authorities, 
they caused a Railway Staff Officer to be sent to that 
Bridge with Instructions to facilitate Matters by all 
means in his Power. 

Later on They picked up What was left of the 
British Army in those parts — one dusty Shovelful, 
and its Lamentations were louder than before. 

" Ungrateful Wretches," said the Military Au- 
thorities ; " what would you now have ? " 

And the Remnant of the British with one Accord 
answered, " Give us back the Boer ! " 


Our hero was a Tommy, with a 

conscience free from care, 
And such an open countenance that 

when he breathed the air 
He used up all the atmosphere — so 

little went to spare, 
You could hardly say he breathed, 

— he commandeered it. 

For, nowadays, you'll notice when 
a man is " on the make," 

And other people's property is 
anxious for to take, 


Oh, How Good it Was!" 

We never use such words as 
steal, or " collar," " pinch," 
or " shake." 

The fashion is to say he " com- 
mandeers " it. 

And our simple-minded hero used 
to grumble at his lot. 

Said he, " This commandeerin's 
just a little bit too hot. 

A fellow has to carry every bloom- 
ing thing he's got, 

For whatever he lets fall they'll 
commandeer it." 

So, at last in desperation, this most 
simple-minded elf. 

He thought he'd do a little com- 
mandeering for himself ; 

And the first thing that he noticed 
was a bottle on a shelf 

In a cottage, so he thought he'd 
commandeer it. 

" What ho ! " says he, " a bottle ! 
and, by George, it's full of beer ! 

And there's no commandin' 
officer to come and interfere. 

So here's my bloomin' health," 

says he ; " I'm on the commandeer." 

And without another word he com- 
mandeered it. Anonymous. 

War's Brighter Side 



Sir William Lockhart's death, as recently an- 
nounced in Army Orders, will be deeply deplored 
by his many friends in the Army in South Africa. 
It was known that he had been seriously ill last 
September, but he had seemingly recovered when 
he visited Burma in December. On his return to 
Calcutta in January, symptoms developed them- 
selves which caused great anxiety, and, although 
he telegraphed to the effect that he hoped soon to 
be all right again, the end was not far distant. 

Apart from his ability as a soldier and adminis- 
trator. Sir William Lockhart endeared himself to all 
who had the privilege of his personal acquaintance 
by his charming manners, his genial hospitality and 
his kindness of heart. Born in 1842, he joined the 
Indian Army in 1858, and during the Mutiny he 
was attached to the 7th Fusiliers. He afterwards 
served with the 26th Punjab Infantry, the lOth 
Bengal Lancers, and the 14th Bengal Lancers. He 
was employed on the Staff in the Abyssinian Ex- 

When the Acheen War broke out he was attached 
to the Headquarters of the Dutch Force, where he 
made himself extremely popular. It was interesting 
to hear him describe the Dutch method of fighting, 
which, as might be imagined, led to no decisive 
result. The climate being tropical, the Dutch would 

"Oh, How Good it Was!" 

only attack the enemy in the early morning; the 
rest of the day being spent in camp. The enemy 
were more active, and caused the Dutch much an- 
noyance by frequently disturbing their afternoon 
siesta. As no means of transport were asked for or 
provided, the campaign was of a purely defensive 
nature, and at the end of it things were virtually in 
the same state as at the beginning. 

After remaining in Acheen about eighteen 
months, Lockhart returned to India, where he 
joined the Quartermaster-General's Department, 
and at the beginning of the Afghan War he was 
chosen to take charge of the line of communica- 
tions up the Khyber. He afterwards joined Lord 
Roberts' Staff as Assistant Quartermaster-General 
at Kabul, and for a short time acted as Chief of the 
Staff on Charles MacGregor being selected for the 
command of a brigade. In that capacity he had 
hoped to accompany his illustrious Chief in the 
march from Kabul to Kandahar, but General Chap- 
man being his senior on the staff, it was decided, 
much to Lockhart's disappointment, that he should 
return to India as Chief of the Staff with the troops 
under Sir Donald Stewart's command. 

He received a C.B. and brevet Colonelcy for his 
services in Afghanistan, and was afterwards ap- 
pointed Deputy Quartermaster-General for Intelli- 
gence at Army Headquarters, where he remained 
until 1886, when Lord Roberts became Commander- 
in-Chief in India in succession to Sir Donald Stew- 
art. He was then sent on an exploring expedition 

12 159 

War's Brighter Side 

with the late Colonel Woodthorpe, R.E., to Chitral 
and Kafiristan, and the admirable report which he 
drew up was of the greatest value to the Government 
of India in considering what steps should be taken 
to guard the northern passes between the Pamirs 
and the Peshawar Valley. 

On his return to India, Lockhart was oflfered the 
Quartermaster-Generalship in that country, but he 
preferred the command of a Brigade in Burma, 
where he greatly distinguished himself by his 
activity in pursuit of Dacoits. His health, however, 
was undermined by continual attacks of fever, and 
he had to be invalided home, where, after a short 
interval, he became Assistant Military Secretary for 
India at the Horse Guards. 

After holding this post for a couple of years, he 
accepted the command of the Punjab Frontier 
Force, which was offered him by Lord Roberts, and 
in that capacity he commanded a brigade in the 
Black Mountain Expedition under the late Sir W. 
K. Files, and held the chief command in the Waziri- 
stan and Isazai Expeditions. No abler or more 
sympathetic general ever commanded the Punjab 
Frontier Force; he was beloved alike by the 
British officers and the Native ranks; he main- 
tained the traditions of the Force and raised it to 
the highest standard of eflficiency ; and when he left 
it he had good reason for regarding it, as he always 
did regard it, as the corps d'clite of the Indian Army. 

In April, 1895, the Presidential Armies were 
broken up and the Army Corps System was intro- 


" Oh, How Good it Was ! " 

duced, Sir William Lockhart being- nominated to 
the command of the Forces in the Punjab. In this 
appointment he displayed administrative talents of a 
high order, his main object being to decentralise re- 
sponsibility and authority, and to diminish oflfiice 
work and official correspondence. It was in a great 
measure due to his efforts in this direction that the 
new system worked so smoothly. When he became 
Commander-in-Chief he kept the same end in view 
by granting the fullest possible powers to the Lieu- 
tenant-Generals of the four Commands and to the 
General Officers commanding Districts, and by in- 
sisting on their making use of those powers to the 
fullest extent. 

In March, 1897, Sir William Lockhart went 
home, having been advised to undergo a course of 
treatment at Nauheim. Meanwhile, disturbances 
took place along the North- West Frontier, which 
culminated in an outbreak of the Orakzaia and 
Afridis, and the capture by the latter of our posts in 
the Khyber Pass. In September he was hurriedly 
recalled to India for the purpose of commanding 
the Tirah Expeditionary Force. This is not the 
place to discuss the operations in Tirah, which were 
much criticised at home. The fact is that the Brit- 
ish public had become so accustomed to almost 
bloodless victories over savage enemies that they 
failed to appreciate the extraordinary difficulties of 
the Afridi country, and the advantages to the 
defence which the possession of long-range rifles 
and smokeless powder confers. Moreover, there 


War's Brighter Side 

are no better marksmen in the world than the 
Afridis, who are born soldiers, and the mobility of 
hardy mountaineers in their native hills necessarily 
exceeds that of regular troops encumbered with bag- 
gage and supplies. 

Anyhow, the result of the expedition fully justi- 
fied the choice of its commander. The Afridis ac- 
knowledged themselves to be thoroughly beaten ; 
and Sir William Lockhart's tact in dealing with them 
after they had submitted has led to the re-establish- 
ment of friendly relations between them and our- 
selves on a firmer basis than before. What their 
present attitude is may be judged from the fact that 
Yar Mahomed, the head of the Malikdin Khels, re- 
cently petitioned the Government of India to be 
allowed to raise 1,500 tribesmen for service in South 

On the conclusion of the Tirah campaign Sir 
William Lockhart took leave to England, and came 
out again as Commander-in-Chief in India in 
November, 1898. He died on the i8th of March, 
1900. In him, as Lord Roberts has remarked in 
his Army Orders of the 20th inst., " the soldiers in 
India have lost a friend, and the Indian Empire, 
a trusted counsellor who cannot soon or easily be 

The late Commander-in-Chief was one of the 
few remaining representatives of the Quartermaster- 
General's Department in India, and to the admirable 
training which that department afforded much of his 
success as a soldier must be ascribed. No better 


"Oh, How Good it Was!" 

school of practical instruction in Staff duties could 
be desired. Among its pupils may be mentioned 
Lord Roberts himself, Sir Charles MacGregor, Sir 
Herbert Stewart, Sir William Lockhart, and Sir 
Alfred Gaselee. Now, alas! it has been abolished, 
or, at least, incorporated in the Adjutant-General's 



Dear Mr. Editor, — The following lines were 
written by me on board the mail steamer, about two 
young soldiers now serving with the army : — 

'Twas on the deck, that around our ship, 

from the mast to the taffrail ran, 
I saw alone, in a chair (not their own), 

a tall young girl and a man. 
Her hair was light and fluffy 

and swarthy and dark was he, 
And I saw the coon, one afternoon, 

a-spooning that girl quite free. 

So I spotted a Quartermaster bold as he 

went from the wheel to tea. 
And I asked that Jack, if upon that tack, 

the passengers went to sea. 
" Lord love yer honour, we often sees that, 

the stewards and the likes of us ; 
There's always couples a-spooning there, 

but we never makes no fuss. 


War's Brighter Side 

" If you look around, you'll see, I'll be bound, 

each day at a quarter to three, 
A tall young fellow with curly hair 

and a girl in black, quite young and fair. 

That's another couple," says he. 
" And every night, I assure you it's right, 

straight up on this deck they'll come 
And spoon around, till it's time to go down. 

One night 'twas a quarter to one." 

" Now it suddenly struck me early one morn, 

this might be a serious thing. 
Perhaps they loves, these two little doves, 

and has ofifered them the ring. 
So I leaves them alone in the world of their own ; 

and this 'twixt you and me, 
I hope I shall, by each little gal, 

to the wedding invited be." 


Then the Quartermaster brushed away 

a tear with his horny hand. 
The last couple now have had a row, 

and don't speak, I understand. 
'Tis not a fable, she won't sit at his table 

As she used to do of old ; 
But has taken up with a married man. 

At least, so I've been told. 

Old Salt. 


''Oh, How Good it Was!" 


Dear Friend, — I suppose that General French 
and his lot think they relieved Kimberley? Well, 
that's all right, and in spite of his name being forrin, 
he's a good chap ; so, as Billy the Sailor says, let's 
make it so. But I should like to know where would 
French be now if it wasn't for Billy and the Yank ? 

Now, you being an up-to-date paper, we thought 
you might like to have an account of the battle 
which hasn't ever yet appeared in any paper in the 
world, yet, as our Adjutant would say, was the most 
strategically important part of the whole blooming 

It was me and Billy and the Yank. Billy's a 
sailor — says he was leftenant in the Navy, and I 
really believe he might have been — he couldn't have 
learnt to ride so badly anywhere else, and how he 
faked himself through the riding test is a miracle — 
then his langwidge is beautiful. The Yank's a 
Yank ; you can tell that by his langwidge, too, and 
me being an old soldier (12 years in the Buffs and 
discharge certificate all correct), I was made No. i 
of our section ; our No. 4 was an Irishman we left 
behind at Orange with a broken head, all through 
fighting outside the Canteen. 

Well, when French left Modder, February 15th, 
we hadn't a horse among the three of us fit to carry 
his own skin ; so there we was left. Our troop 
leader said he hoped to Heaven he'd seen the last 
of us, but all the same he gave us a written order, 

War's Brighter Side 

correct enough, to catch up the squadron as soon 
as possible. There wasn't much doing all day, 
barring a bit of cooking, but that evening we was 
sitting round the lire when an M.I. chap comes 
round and says he's heard there'd be free drinks 
for the Relief Force in Kimberley, and perhaps our 
pals was drinking 'em now. That was the first time 
our Billy really woke up all day. " Free drinks," 
sezee ; " that's my sailing orders." Me and the 
Yank didn't mind, so we sounds boot and saddle 
to ourselves in the dark, and off we slips without 
a word to nobody. My horse seemed cheered up by 
the day's rest, but before I'd gone half a mile I found 
I got the wrong horse by mistake ! and you'll hardly 
believe that both Billy and the Yank had made mis- 
takes too ! Lor', how we did laugh ! but there, there 
ain't no accounting for horses in the dark. 

We each had our own notions of the road ; the 
Yank swore he was tracking the big English cavalry 
horses ; Billy was steering Nor' Wes' by Nor' on 
some star or other ; and I didn't want to argufy, so I 
just shoves on a couple of lengths and marched on 
the Kimberley flashlight. 

We was going a fair pace too (" making six 
knots "), and had done near two hours, when all of a 
sudden we comes over a kopje right on to the top of 
a bivouack, fires and all. 

" Let's get " — " Go astern " — " Sections about " 
— and we did so, back behind the kopje, linked 
horses, and crawled up again on our hands and 



Oh, How Good it Was ! " 

" First thing," says I, quoting our Adjutant, " is 
to kalkulate the numbers of the enemy." 

" Twenty thousand," says Billy, who always did 
reckon a bit large, " Make it hundreds," says the 
Yank, sneering — " and I wouldn't mind betting a 
pint myself that there was the best part of two dozen 
of 'em." 

" Next point," says I, " who are they? " 

" I bleeve they're Highlanders, after all," says 
Billy ; " see the way they're lowering whisky out of 
them bottles." 

" Well then," says the Yank, " you'd better ride 
up and say you're the General, and they'll drop the 
whisky and run." 

" Highlanders," says I, " don't care a cuss for 
Boers nor Generals, but say you're the Provost 
Marshal and they won't stop running this side of 

" Those men, sir," says the Yank, " air not High- 
landers. Billy's eyes was took with them bottles and 
got no further. Those men don't wear leg curtains, 
nor even loud checked bags. They air Boers." And 
by Jove he was right. 

" Well then," says I, getting back to point three, 
" what's their position ? " 

" Straight there," says the Yank. " Mostly lying 
on their stummicks," says Billy. 

" My friends," says I, " if your Adjutant should 
hear you now. he'd break his blighted heart. Look 
here, there's General French lowering free drinks in 
Kimberley, ain't he ? There's the British infantry at 


War's Brighter Side 

Modder, ten miles back, ain't they? And there's 
twenty thousand Boers plunk in the middle, ain't 
they? That means, as Adjy would say, General 
French is busted. Vaultin' ambition ! Another 
orful disaster ! " 

" My friends, we must reskew General French." 

" General be blowed ! " says Billy ; " let's reskew 
the whisky." 

'* Well, bein' agreed on reskewin', wot's our plan 
of battle ? A frontal attack is always to be depre — 
well, something that means it's a bally error. Take 
'em on the starboard quarter, then." 

" But the first principel of tactics is to mystify 
and mislead the foe." 

So far the Yank had been lying rather low, but 
now he chips in — 

" Say, chum, you've pegged it out straight there, 
and if it ain't jumping your claim, I'll carry on the 
working." He did know a bit, the Yank did, and 
we'd fixed up the job in no time. He'd a bag of 
about a hundred loose cartridges he'd been carrying 
for days, and in two minutes he'd a nice hot glowing 
fire right down in a cleft behind the kopjy where it 
didn't show a bit. " Now boys," says I, taking com- 
mand again, " that bag of cartridges on the top of 
that fire will make as much musketry noise as a 
brigade fits of joy. We'll let them have a few real 
bullets bang in the middle to help out the illooshun. 
We're three full battalions advancing to attack, and 
mind you let them hear it; not a word till the first 
cartridge pops ofT, and then all the noise you know." 


"Oh, How Good it Was!" 

We extended to fifty paces. Billy said it would 
come more natural if he was the Naval Brigade, and 
we puts him on the right. The Yank wanted to be 
the " Fighting Fifth," it reminded him somehow of 
fighting Stonewall Jackson down South ; and the 
old Bufifs was good enough for me, and I took the 
left. When we'd fixed our places up nicely and 
charged magazines, the Yank slips back to our fire 
and plunks the bag of cartridges down in the mid- 
dle. Then we waited what seemed like a year. 

" Bang ! " from the fire. 

" At 'em, my hearties ! " roared the Naval Bri- 
gade ; " broadside fire — don't lay on the whisky — 
well done, Condor! " 

" Steady the Bufifs," says I ; " volley firing with 
magazines — ready — fixed sights — at that fat old 
buster next the fire — present — Fire ! " and sooting 
the action to the word I let the old buster have a 
volley in the fattest part. 

The Fighting Fifth didn't make much noise, but 
was shooting straight enough. 

Those cartridges went ofif so quick, once they'd 
started, that I knew they couldn't last long, so I 
gives 'em one more file of my magazine and then 
whistles on my fingers, " Cease fire ! " — pop went 
the last cartridge on the fire — " Who's that silly 
blighter firin' after the whistle goes ? — take his name, 
Sergeant-Majer — Now, Bufifs, fix bayonets — pre- 
pare to charge ! " 

" Avast heaving, full speed ahead and ram 
them ! " yells the Naval Brigade. But the Boers 


War's Brighter Side 

didn't wait for that — what with the dark, and sur- 
prise and noise, let alone a few real bullets, they had 
gone for their horses and were moving hard. 

*' Now then. Lancers ! " I holloared, " round our 
left flank and pursue them to the devil ! " That was 
just enough to prevent them turning their heads for 
the first mile or so. Then our brigade reforms and 
went down the hill to tally up the loot. There was 
half a dozen cripples, none of them bad, half a dozen 
knee-haltered horses, a pot of stew on the fire, and 
half a dozen black bottles. The Fighting Fifth, who 
was a kind-hearted chap in his way, turned over the 
wounded, gave them a sup of water, and tied them 
up with bits of their own shirts. The Naval Brigade 
had sweated through everything it had on, barrin' 
its rifle, just out of pure excitement, and it went for 
the bottles like a cartload of bricks. Blessed if they 
weren't Dop! ^ " Never mind," says the Naval Bri- 
gade, " if the quality ain't up to Admiralty pattern, 
we'll have to issue a double ration " — and he did — 
so help me ! Meanwhile the Buffs had collected the 
horses and picked out a nice little chestnut for my- 
self. After that the Brigade fell out and enjoyed 

But we couldn't waste too much time, so after 
half an hour we changed saddles, packed the dop in 
our wallets, and hoisted the Naval Brigade on board. 
The whole way to Kimberley he was fighting the 
Condor against the combined land and sea forces of 
all creation — even the Yank laughed fit to burst. I 

' Cape brandy, also known as " Cape smoke." 

"Oh, How Good it Was!" 

do believe Billy might have been a commander — 
one can't learn langwidge like that, even in the Navy, 
under a longish time. 

Well, we fetched Kimberley about reveille after 
falling off our horses now and then, and we gives 
the Sergeant-Major half a bottle to look pleasant. 
Up we goes before the troop leader, who looked a 
bit glum at his own written order, but cheered up 
when I hands over three spare Boer horses we'd 
brought along. 

'' If I hear any more of this damfoolishness," 
sezee, " I'll hang the lot of you ; so you'd better take 
care that nobody knows of it." He's almost as hard 
as the Adjy. 

Well, that's why we don't say what Regiment we 
belong to. But just to give the devil his jew we 
don't see why General French gets all the telegrams 
from the Queen and Lord Mayors — and we ain't 
even had our chocolate served out yet. 

But this is the truth — Billy and the Yank'U both 
swear to it. 

Yours truly, 

Number One. 



I. — Infantry 

Since the days of bows and arrows the art of war 
has been gradually developing. The arquebus fol- 
lowed the silent bow, and perhaps it may be said 

War's Brighter Side 

that this change was the most revolutionary change 
ever experienced in the history of warfare. But the 
arquebus could not effectively prevent the opposing 
forces from coming to close quarters, and therefore 
the strong man with a thorough knowledge of the 
use of the arme blanche — be it pike, sword, or spear 
— was the mainstay of their armies. With the suc- 
cessive introduction of the matchlock, Brown Bess, 
and the host of old muzzle-loading rifles, up to the 
time when the Snider rifle came into use, still the 
same conditions of fighting remained. By the same 
conditions I mean the following : — 

(i) The enemy, when firing at an eflfective range, 
was visible to the naked eye of his opponent. 

(2) Even when concealed behind cover the 
smoke of his rifle easily disclosed his position. 

(3) Neither the accuracy nor the rapidity of fire 
was sufficient to make an attack across open ground 
by a slightly superior force impossible. 

The introduction of the Martini-Henry com- 
pletely altered at least the third of these conditions, 
but owing to the fact that no European war of great 
importance was fought with Martini-Henrys, the 
change was not brought home to military theorists. 
It is true that the Turks fought the Greeks with the 
Martini and the Gras rifles, but the war was not 
serious, and the Greeks never held even their en- 
trenched positions with sufficient tenacity to bring 
home to the world the fact that an advance across 
the open towards an enemy under cover was becom- 
ing more and more impossible. 


*'Oh, How Good it Was!" 

But smokeless powder and the long range rifle 
brought with them changes which do not appear to 
be properly understood. In the first place, it may 
be laid down as an axiom of warfare that the area of 
effective rifle fire (and indeed of any fire) is restricted 
by the areas of vision. During the present war it 
has become evident to those who have studied the 
question, that the dangerous zone of fire with 
modern rifles is not, as was at first supposed, within 
the I, GOO yards range, but within 1,500 or even 
1,600 yards. 

To advance in the open against an enemy, even 
when that enemy is not under cover but simply lying 
on the ground, involves one of two alternatives. 
Either the advancing force is annihilated by the time 
it gets to within 500 yards of the enemy, or it is 
forced to lie down 1,500 yards away or less and 
return the enemy's fire. But the latter alternative 
produces a state of things which has never been 
known in the history of war. Both the advancing 
and the expectant forces are put out of action. 
Neither can advance and, which is more serious still, 
neither can retire. 

This contingency opened up an entirely new field 
of tactics. The general who can, with a smaller 
force, succeed in putting out of action, at least for 
the time being, a greater force of his opponent, is 
more likely to win his battle. In the future, the 
curious sight will be seen of regiments or even 
brigades lying flat on the ground, doing little 
damage to the enemy and suffering little loss, and 


War's Brighter Side 

yet being as useless to their general as if they were 
snoring in their barracks at home. Perhaps this is 
too sweeping, for their presence in front of the 
enemy will have the advantage of containing him, 
but in the open, across which an enemy has to ad- 
vance, a containing force of a proportion of one 
man to five of the enemy is quite sufficient. There- 
fore the use of a brigade to contain a brigade would 
be a waste of material. Even those of us who have 
followed closely and carefully all the stages of the 
campaign do not yet perceive the magnitude of the 
changes involved by the use of modern rifles, but 
they appear to me to be so radical that instead of 
describing them as fresh developments, I would 
prefer to give an affirmative answer to the title of 
this article. 

But there yet remains to be discussed the ques- 
tion of the arme blanche — the bayonet, the weapon 
with which our gallant army has won so many of its 
victories. I have heard not a few officers declare 
that this war will be known in history as the last war 
in which a British soldier carried a bayonet. But is 
the discarding of the bayonet to be one of the results 
of the use of the new rifle and the smokeless pow- 
der? When fighting against an enemy who does 
not carry it, the force which is armed with a bayonet 
has a tremendous moral superiority. In the present 
war, there have been one or two cases — one, par- 
ticularly, at Slingersfontein — where the Boer has 
made a frontal attack on a prepared position held 
by us. The attacks have always been made along 


"Oh, How Good it Was!" 

the tops of kopjes which afforded excellent cover 
for a stealthy advance. The obvious way to meet 
such attacks was to wait until the enemy came close 
enough to allow the use of the bayonet, and this 
was done with great success at Slingersfontein. So 
that it may be laid down that in cases where one only 
of two opposing forces is armed with the bayonet, it 
is obviously to its advantage that the enemy should 
in attacking come to close quarters. 

It is, equally, to the manifest advantage of the 
defending force, if unarmed with the bayonet, to 
prevent, with heavy rifle fire, the enemy from being 
able to use the bayonet. But in my humble opin- 
ion, the bayonet will not be discarded for a long 
time. In the first place, the best tactician in the 
world cannot always prevent, even with modern 
rifles, such things as surprises, and small bodies of 
men might still, even under the new conditions, be 
able to get unperceived into close quarters with the 
enemy. But the greatest reason for its retention is 
that night attacks are still possible, and in night 
attacks the bayonet is undoubtedly the weapon to 
be used. The very mention, however, of night 
attacks opens up a long vista of discussion and 
arguments which I do not wish to raise. I am 
aware that there are many prominent soldiers who 
will have nothing to say to night attacks and con- 
demn them lock, stock and barrel, but they can 
never be eliminated from the already long list of 
the contingencies of warfare. Until something 
is mooted which will render night attacks abso- 

13 175 

War's Brighter Side 

lutely impossible, so long will the bayonet be 

But perhaps the most radical changes effected by 
the use of the long range rifle will be in purely 
regimental organisation. A company now extends 
for the attack over a space of over half a mile. The 
ordinary complement of officers assigned to a com- 
pany can never hope to control the whole of it. 
What is the remedy ? And how are we to bring up 
ammunition to the firing line, or carry away our 
wounded from it? Can a regiment extended for 
the attack eight paces apart act as a regiment or in 
the future is the company to be the biggest infantry 
unit in action ? All these questions spring from the 
experiences of the present campaign, and it is to be 
hoped that they will be answered by those whose 
experience in the many engagements against the 
enemy will give value and force to their words. 



Received orders at lo a.m. to proceed at once to 
Ram Dam and to join the main column as soon as 
possible. Requisitioned for transport immediately 
and supplied at 6 p.m. with about four dozen small 
dilapidated hair trunks, misnamed mules, which 
looked as if they required three square meals rolled 
into one, and a fortnight in bed! No self-respect- 


"Oh, How Good it Was!" 

ing cat would have looked at them twice, even cold 
on a wooden skewer ! 

Made a disastrous stand at 8 p.m., as we suc- 
ceeded in losing our way in the record time of fifteen 
minutes, thanks to having no guide and to a flighty 
and uncertain young moon, which insisted on play- 
ing hide and seek at the most awkward times. How- 
ever, we struck the wire at last, not the barbed 
variety fortunately, and had brief periods of com- 
paratively smooth going, variegated by such trifling 
mishaps as a broken trace, falling mule, or mule and 
harness so mixed up that we couldn't distinguish 
which was harness and which was mule and re- 
quiring careful sorting out ! Veldt stones were also 
somewhat inconvenient, as they vary in size to any- 
thing above or below a Pickford van. However, it 
was a fine night and the mules almost seemed to 
warm to their work, racing along in great style at 
fully three miles an hour on a smoothish bit of road 
and appreciably downhill ! 

What rapture to be out on the starry veldt and to 
have left that Enslin " News " — the transport lines 
— miles (five and a doubtful bit) behind us. Shortly 
afterwards the moon again appeared, and we pro- 
ceeded to negotiate a very promising nullah with 
gently sloping sides. Full speed ahead and up we 
go, but, alas ! the latter part of our programme was 
somewhat disarranged, like Labby's furniture at 
Northampton, owing to the fact that buck waggons 
and mule transport are not adapted to racing 
through a truckload of sand of uncertain depth but 


War's Brighter Side 

of certain difficulty ! However, " man the wheels 
and shove behind " was the natural sequence of 
events, and when the mules ceased pulling in every 
direction except the right one from sheer exhaus- 
tion, a few judicious cracks of the sjambok, together 
with a few different languages, mostly bad, and up 
we eventually did go. 

A wide stretch of perfectly flat veldt lay before us, 
and we shortly lost both moon and wire simultane- 
ously. Some one suggested " follow the track " : 
valuable advice, but difficult to carry out, as there 
happened to be about fourteen of them, and all in 
different directions. Pleasant predicament to be in : 
I a.m., cloudy sky, and lost on the anything but 
trackless veldt! Feel about as comfortable as the 
man who was going to be hanged at 8 a.m. Finally 
decided to proceed at right angles, and return our 
wrong way if necessary, and succeeded in finding 
that precious wire at last. Persistency is the road 
to success, but what about an old hen sitting on a 
china tgg? 

Moon on the wane, but reached Ram Dam at 
3 a.m., and all of us surprised and delighted to 
get there, as it would have very shortly been 
a case of the " light that failed ! " Ram Dam 
itself looks like a remarkably low Thames some- 
where near the Isle of Dogs, but glad to get 
anywhere, and ready to eat or drink anything. 

H. P. B. 


"Oh, How Good it Was!" 



{With an Original Verse by Rudyard Kipling *) 

Through war and pestilence, red siege and fire, 
Silent and self-contained he drew his breath. 

Too brave for show of courage— his desire 
Truth as he saw it, even to the death. 

Rudyard Kipling. 

There is a pretty little cypress grove nestling 
under the shadow of one of the Ladysmith defences. 
A peaceful oasis — green where the land is parched 
and dry. It is God's acre. Before shaking the dust 
of Ladysmith from off my feet for ever, I turned my 
pony's head towards the green. The little animal 
seemed to know the way, and well he should, for 
the melancholy journey to the cemetery had been 
frequent during the latter period of the siege. I 
tied the pony to the rail and passed in under the 
shadow of the cypresses. The interior of the en- 
closure was one stretch of new-turned earth. The 
turf seemed all exhausted. The dainty cemetery of 
three months ago had now the appearance of a 
badly harrowed field. In places a rough cross 
marked the last resting-place of the victims of war 
and pestilence, a few had the names just scrawled 
upon a chip of wood ; the majority lay unnamed — 
the price of Empire keeping : a nameless grave ! 

I passed down the clay trodden pathway. The 
brief legends ran — Egerton, Lafone, Watson, Field, 

' Copyrighted, used here by permission. 

War's Brighter Side 

Dalzel, Dick-Cunyngham, Digby Jones, Adams — 
but why name them? They were all men whom 
three months ago I had called my friends. Then I 
found the spot for which I searched — a plain wooden 
cross inscribed G. W. Steevens, and a date. What 
an end — six feet of Ladysmith's miserable soil ! It 
was too cruel. My memory carried me back to the 
brave companion and upright colleague who was 
gone, and to the manner of his death — the man who 
had raced with the Cameron Highlanders for Mah- 
moud's zareba ; who had stood with his hands in his 
pockets when it seemed that it must be but a matter 
of minutes before Wad Helu swallowed up Mac- 
donald's Soudanese brigade. The man who had 
scorned death on Elandslaagte's crest lay there a 
victim to pestilential Ladysmith. If the spare frame 
had been as stout as the heart which it contained, 
that miserable rat-hole could not have brought about 
the end. Poor Steevens — how he strove to live! 
For a month he lay and fought the battle for Hfe. 
And then when all seemed well, and we looked for 
the day that we should have him back again, he 
quietly faded under a relapse. 

Doctors could do no more, and at four in the 
afternoon of the fatal day it was evident that the 
end was near. Maud, who had nursed him with a 
devotion unsurpassed, was deputed to break the 
news. He came to the bedside and suggested that 
Steevens should dictate a wire to his people at home. 
The patient looked up suddenly, and in a moment 
was conscious of the sinister purport of the request. 

1 80 

"Oh, How Good it Was!" 

The conversation which ensued was something of 
the following: — 

"Is it the end?" 

Maud nodded assent. 

"Will it be soon?" 

Again Maud nodded assent. 

Steevens turned wearily, and remarked, " Well, it 
is a strange sideway out ! " Then there passed over 
his face an expression which plainly read, " I will 
not die ! " 

He turned to Maud and said, almost gaily, 
" Let's have a drink." 

Maud opened a new bottle of champagne and 
poured out half a glass. Steevens sipped it, and 
noticing that Maud had no glass, remarked, " You 
are not drinking ! " 

He seemed better after the wine, and when the 
last message was dictated he was still struggling for 
life; but the disease had the upper hand, and he 
sank into unconsciousness which was never broken 
until he passed away in the evening. 

We buried him at midnight. As we took him 
down to the cypress grove, it seemed that the enemy 
paid tribute to our sorrow, for their searchlight 
played full upon the mournful cavalcade as it wound 
into the open. 

Bloemfontein, March 23, 1900. 
Dear Sir, — A distinguished General Officer — 
who is also an exceedingly clever man — was issuing 

War's Brighter Side 

orders on one occasion. " I have no wish," said 
he, " to interfere with the time-honoured custom 
which ordains that heroes may be dirty; but, until 
they become heroes, I see no reason why they 
should not try and look like soldiers. The troops 
under my command will, therefore, shave until they 
arrive at the actual front." 

This witty sentence provides me with an admi- 
rable text for a sermon on a subject very near my 
heart. Our troops have, indeed, proved themselves 
heroes. Whatever may be the opinion expressed 
now and hereafter upon many things in the conduct 
of this war, upon one thing there can be no dis- 
sentient voice — I refer to the splendid heroism of 
our troops. Yes, sir, they are heroes. But why, 
oh ! why do they not try and look like soldiers too ? 
Why should the erstwhile smart Guardsman, the 
dandy Highlander, the dapper Horseman, adopt the 
facial disguise of a poacher out of luck, or rather — 
for the beard is not a good one — of a member of the 
criminal classes previous to the Saturday evening's 
ablutions? Surely soap can be purchased, razors 
ground, and water heated. 

It is universally admitted that one of the chief 
duties of a soldier is to be smart in his appearance, 
and the fact that on active service there may be 
some difficulty is surely no excuse for its neglect. 
In all other periods of the world's history shaving 
was looked upon as one of the chiefest necessities in 
time of war. Napoleon's Old Guard shaved, as is 
well known, throughout the entire retreat from 


"Oh, How Good it Was!" 

Moscow ; there was not a hair upon the faces of 
Hannibal's legions the day after the famous crossing 
of the Alps, while Caesar's well-known order, " Ut 
barbas tondeant," must be familiar to every school- 
boy. I might come down to our own times and 
quote the Queen's Regulations, but I refrain from 
doing so lest I should be accused of priggishness. 

It is, I do not hesitate to say, horrible to me to 
see the unkempt appearance of those who might be 
— and are at other times — the finest-looking troops 
in the world. I feel inclined to say, in the words of 
Scripture, " Tarry ye at Jericho until (and after) your 
beards be grown." 

I hope, sir, you will forgive this somewhat 
lengthy letter, but the subject is, as I have said al- 
ready, very near my heart. No one ever has looked 
well in a beard, and no one ever will, and until our 
officers recognise this fact and set an example of 
spruceness for their men to follow, the army in 
South Africa must remain an eyesore to all who 
share the opinions of 

Your obedient servant. 

Field Officer. 



I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 

And shall here discuss her, Mr. Kipling, Lord 
Stanley, and our own behaviour 

We published in the next issue, No. ii, of 
March 26th, a letter by " Miss Uitlander " (pro- 
nounced in that country " Aitlander "). It was 
as genuine a production of the young woman- 
hood of the town as that of " Miss Bloemfon- 
tein " had been, and it would have been wholly 
to our liking had it been as exceptional and bold 
a bit of work as the other, for it was, naturally, 
very pro-English. Suffice it to say that it an- 
swered and contradicted the Boer sentiments 
with vigour. 

This reminded us that we were to enjoy no 
more communications from the sprightly and 
talented Miss Bloemfontein. Most gallantly we 
had resolved to allow her the last word and there 
end the correspondence, but she had remained 
silent, leaving us with that " last word " which 

Miss Bloemfontein. 
(A Portrayal of a Type, by Lester Ralph.) 

I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 

we, like simpletons, had never doubted that she 
would claim as hers by right of her womanhood. 
She was laughing at the predicament in which 
she had abandoned us, for she was wide awake 
at all points. 

She had done me the honour to ask me to 
call upon her and — in this the laugh was on my 
side — then had repented of it. She repented 
because, in my reply to her communication, I 
had addressed her as " sweetheart " and had 
called her " dear." It had happened that when 
she wrote to the paper she let a few close friends 
into the secret, and these, when they read my 
lover's terms addressed to her, made haste to 
twit her upon the publicity of these verbal ca- 
resses, so that from rose-and-pearl she became 
peony red and hot of cheeks, and not nearly as 
desirous of seeing me as before my second letter 
saw the light. 

However, I went to her home and found it 
very prettily appointed and comfortable, with an 
admiring family gathered around their girlish 
idol who had been to London, and who sang 
sweetly, played the piano deftly, and seemed to 
have read at least a little upon many subjects. 
She was, I should say, seventeen or eighteen, a 
pure blonde, still very girlish both in face and 
figure. I spent a pleasant hour in her company, 
and an English officer who called there at the 

War's Brighter Side 

same time endeavoured to persuade her to make 
up a party for afternoon tea at his regimental 
camp near the town. But her mother had an- 
nounced that she could not bear to walk in the 
streets and see the British soldiers disfiguring 
the once hallowed scenery of the place, so it 
was perhaps no wonder that Miss Bloemfon- 
tein declined to take afternoon tea with those 

" I will not do anything to encourage or rec- 
ognise their presence," she said. 

" When your mother is not looking, I am 
going to whisper something to you," I re- 
marked. " Now is my time. It is this : You 
are a little fraud; you are no Boer at all." 

I intended to go on and explain that a girl so 
clever and well read, and who lived amid such 
refined surroundings, could not possibly sympa- 
thise with a semi-civilised and non-moral race. 
But she suspected that I meant something 

" You mean because I am a Jewess," she 

And then came the most comical closing 
of this very peculiar episode. She, who elect- 
ed herself to be the champion of the Boers, 
was a Jewess, and I, who wooed her sup- 
posed sisterhood as an English adorer, am an 

I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 

Ah, well, little Miss Bloemfontein, I was at 
least genuine in standing up for liberty, justice, 
and the highest principles of good govern- 
ment. They are the prizes that are guarded 
by my flag as well as by the one which floats 
over your town. And if you were as earnest 
in your sympathy for the Boers it was either 
because you had been deceived by them as to 
the causes of the war and the issues at stake, or 
else it was because your loyalty to the friends 
of a lifetime outweighed all else. May we 
not,, then, part here with mutual esteem and 

In this number we published two contribu- 
tions by Mr. Kipling, a second one of the " Fa- 
bles for the Staf¥ " and some " Kopje-book 
Maxims." All of us tried to assist at the fram- 
ing of these maxims, but, though we suggested 
two or three (Mr. Landon being the most fertile 
at the time), Mr. Kipling shaped them all in his 
own way and with a readiness and ease which ex- 
celled any work of composition .that I have ever 
seen done by any writer in all my experience. 
It was said of him three or four years ago that 
he was then writing too much, but it will always 
seem to us that his difficulty must be in restrain- 
ing himself, and in publishing only the best that 
wells from his mind. 

Another peculiarity that we noticed was that 

War's Brighter Side 

he would, by preference, carry forward two or 
three manuscripts at once and would write, now 
at one, and presently at another. The " Kopje- 
book Maxims " reveal this breadth and variety 
of his mental processes to whoever is able to un- 
derstand the fine shadings of the meanings of 
them all, and to those who can comprehend the 
fact that they were literally " dashed off " hot, 
like sparks under a smith's hammer. If these 
mere playthings of his pen, done as part of our 
merry and careless morning's work, were forced 
to stand as specimen products of the methods 
of this master writer, an injustice to him 
would follow. The point is that his methods 
are the same, and his mind works with simi- 
lar freedom and celerity, at all times, and at 
whatever he does; at least so far as we are 
able to judge. But what he wrote for The 
Friend was finished and published on the in- 
stant with no after-polishing and refinement, 
like the flawless work he has made us know 
so well. 

In this same number we printed an interest- 
ing forecast of the future of the Free State by 
Mr. Fred J. Engelbach. An officer sent us a 
jocular account of the amazingly plucky work 
being done by the Ordnance Survey — and par- 
ticularly of one feat by Major Jackson, R.E. 
We also published, from my pen, a short warn- 

I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 

ing to the soldiers not to drink the water out of 
certain wells which had for years been known to 
contain the germs of enteric. I learned the fact 
during my visit to my " sweetheart," Miss 
Bloemfontein, and as I look back, now, upon 
that paragraph I almost shudder to think how 
little we dreamed that in a few weeks 7,000 men 
of our force would be down with that dread 

I have referred to the fact that Lord Stan- 
ley came every day at noon to overlook what 
we had done. I would ask for nothing more 
amusing than to have heard his gossip at 
the Residency upon the manner in which he 
found The Friend to be conducted and pro- 
duced. The truth was that we had finished 
everything for the day, except the interminable 
proof-reading, by the time he reached what 
the country editor grandiloquently refers to 
as our " sanctum sanctorum." In consequence 
he always caught us just as we were looking up 
from our desks and taking a deep breath of 

We who have been raised in this profession 
may not realise just what applause is to an actor, 
or what there may be to a bareback rider in the 
" smell of the sawdust," but we do know and 
fully realise that journalism is perhaps the only 
calling that men find as full of fun as it is of 

War's Brighter Side 

hard work. The company of bright minds, 
certain to be sanguine and optimistic, the 
excitement produced by unexpected news, 
the rush to prepare it most atttractively and 
against time, the thousand unpubUshable con- 
ceits and views and arguments that leap to 
the mind and are discussed in council, the 
freaks and blunders of the reporters and 
contributors — all these elements are in the 
cup of joy that a journahst drinks off 
every day. 

Therefore when Lord Stanley came he was 
certain to find us merry and voluble and prank- 
ish. He may have imagined that we must per- 
force be grave — we to whom was given the 
high and almost religious right to speak for 
an empire and an army, and to conduct a 
British organ in so delicate a situation as was 
ours among the Boers — neither offending them 
nor giving them a chance to find a flaw in 
the practice of our principles. Grave enough 
was that part of our work which we meant to 
be so. 

Serious in its strain upon us and important 
in its effort to rest and inform and recreate the 
soldiers, was most of what we did. But it is a 
habit of the journalist's mind and a result of his 
work that he shall be or become a philosopher, 
viewing the world as it is, no matter how differ- 

I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 

ently he may present it to a duller and more con- 
servative public. 

Therefore Lord Stanley found us declaiming 
soldier poetry, writing nonsense verses, drawing 
caricatures of one another, telling stories, behav- 
ing like men without a care on their minds. We 
realised that he must be shocked at us — and we 
voted that he behaved very well under the cir- 
cumstances. He usually came in with a quick 
step and an air of business. We delayed him 
with chafT which he seemed always at a loss to 
understand at first. He got at our bundles of 
proof-sheets and he applied himself to them 
most gravely. By and by he began to catch the 
contagion of our spirits, his eye wandered from 
the sheets, he wavered — he began to join in our 
talk. " Is there anything else — or anything 
you are in doubt about?" he would ask. He 
believed us when we answered him, for he knew 
that we understood what not to publish. In 
that mutual trust and confidence there grew up 
a relation between us and himself which was 
dearly prized by us, and which we hoped he es- 
teemed as highly. 

Once he told us that there had been com- 
plaint of a mock-speech by the German Emperor 
which some one had written among a lot of pre- 
tended cablegrams avowedly fanciful. Once he 
declined to publish a mild attack of mine upon 
14 191 

War's Brighter Side 

Mr. Winston S. Churchill for finding fault with 
our army chaplains. At another time, upon the 
ground of prudence, he threw out an article 
upon our treasonous colonists which we copied 
from an Afrikander exchange. Apart from 
these slight exercises of his power he passed all 
our work, though it was as big in bulk as the 
" Newcomes " and '' Vanity Fair " rolled to- 
gether — 300,000 words — ten columns a day for 
thirty days! 

I have called the censor's office a " hole in a 
wall," but our sanctum was not half as neat or 
presentable. Whoever has carried the collect- 
ing mania into the study of country newspa- 
per of^ces has noticed how one never differs 
from another. The greasy smell of printer's 
ink, the distempered walls stuck over here and 
there with placards and the imprint of inky 
fingers, the gaping fireplace, the bare, littered 
floor, the table all cut on top and chipped at 
the edges, the bottomless chairs with varying 
degrees of further dismemberment, the " clank 
— clank " of the press in the next room — 
these are the proofs positive of genuine coun- 
try newspaper offices the world around — 
from Simla to Bismarck, Dakota, and back 
again. And the ofiice of The Friend was like 
all the rest. 


I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Forced 

The Elephant and the Lark's Nest 



A discriminating Boer, having laid a Nestfull of 
valuable and informing Eggs, fled across the Hori- 
zon under pressure of necessity, leaving his Nest in 
a secluded Spot, where it was discovered by a Dis- 
interested Observer who reported the same to an 
Intelligence Officer. The Latter arriving at his 
Leisure with a great Pomposity said : " See me 
hatch ! " and sitting down without reserve converted 
the entire Output into an unnecessary Omelette, 

After the Mess was removed, the Disinterested 
Observer observed : " Had you approached this 
matter in another spirit you might have obtained 
Valuable Information." 

" That," replied the Intelligence Officer, " shows 
your narrow-minded Prejudice. Besides I am 
morally certain that those Eggs come out of a 
Mare's Nest." 

" It is now too late to inquire," said the Dis- 
interested Observer, " and that is a pity." 

' Copyrighted, used here with the author's permission. 

War's Brighter Side 

" But am I not an Intelligence Officer ? " said 
the Intelligence Officer. 

" Of that there can be no two opinions," said the 
Disinterested Observer. Whereupon he was sent 

Moral. Do not teach the Intelligence to suck Eggs. 



{With suggestive help from Percival London) 


Two Horses will shift a Camp if they be dead 

Forage is Victory ; Lyddite is Gas. 

Look before you Lope. 

When in doubt Flank ; when in force Outflank. 


Take care of the towns and the Tents will take 
care of themselves. 

Spare the Solitary Horseman on the sky-line ; he 
is bound to be a Britisher. 

Abandoned Women and Abandoned Kopjes are 
best left alone. 

Raise your hat to the Boer — and you'll get 

* Copyrighted, used here by permission. 

I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 


The Dead Gunner laughed at the Pom-pom. 

" I Bet I killed ' Eighty,' " roared the 4.7. 

" I have buried my three," snapped the Lee- 

" It is well to keep your hair on ; it is Better to 
take out your Tompion." 

A shell on the Rand is worth ten on the veldt. 

There are ninety and nine roads to Stellenbosch, 
but only two to Pretoria. Take the other. 

(Kopjeright in all armies and standing camps.) 



II. — Artillery 

" When a battery comes under rifle fire it be- 
comes worse than useless," once said a well-known 
foreign military expert. And if this statement is 
to be accepted, as we accept Euclid's axioms, then 
indeed I should be inclined to say that the art of war 
has become revolutionised completely. But having 
seen G Battery at Magersfontein practically silence 
at a range well within 1,500 yards (I believe at one 
time it was only 1,200 yards) a strong force of the 
enemy's riflemen firing from good cover on an un- 
dulating plain, it becomes apparent that the military 
expert's dictum is incorrect. I cite the instance of 
G Battery because, perhaps, it is the best known in 

War's Brighter Side 

the operations in the Western Frontier, but I could, 
if necessary, give twenty cases where both Horse 
and Field Batteries have worked magnificently and 
effectively under a galling fire. 

At the same time I do not wish, for a moment, to 
lay it down as one of the rules of modern warfare 
that guns can be worked with impunity within 1,500 
or even 2,000 yards of the enemy's rifle fire, for the 
danger of being put out is so apparent that it needs 
no demonstration. But artillery must have a good 
" position." Batteries cannot be hidden behind 
boulders as infantry soldiers can. Gunners must 
have an open field and more or less a commanding 
point from which to lay their guns. This necessity 
— a necessity to which no other arms are so com- 
pletely subjected — has entailed, during the course of ' 
the present war, the risk of whole batteries being 
under rifle fire. Before the introduction of the long- 
range rifle, there were but few instances where guns, 
in order to take up proper positions, were forced to 
come under effective rifle fire. Now, however, we 
have to face this risky possibility. And in this 
respect, and this respect only, can the use of the 
modern rifle be said to have made any change in the 
rules of war laid down for the use of artillery. 

The present campaign, if viewed from the point 
of view of the artilleryman, is an abnormal one. 
Field and horse batteries have had to face what has 
been practically siege artillery. In Natal we have 
been outranged by the use, by the Boers, of guns of 
great calibre and no mobility. We have faced the 


I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 

difficulty — and successfully too — by bringing on to 
the field naval guns of equal calibre to the enemy's. 
And, although we have been surprised at the rapid 
way in which the Boers have shifted their heavy 
guns, I still dare to think that we can move our 4.7 
guns with greater rapidity. My intention, however, 
is not to discuss the use of the naval large calibre 
guns in field operations. Such a discussion would 
be outside the scope of this article. I prefer to look 
upon their use in this campaign as an abnormal epi- 
sode — which, perhaps, may never again occur in 
civilised warfare, except in case of sieges. 

Artillery in operation in the field is represented 
by Horse and Field (Howitzers and ordinary) guns. 
Now what lessons have our artillery learnt from the 
engagements of the present war ? That is the most 
important question, and I propose to answer it to 
the best of my ability, feeling and hoping that my 
answer will induce abler answers from other pens. 

It is impossible, in discussing the uses and abuses 
of any particular arm, to dissociate that arm from 
the whole to which it belongs. A complete modern 
force should consist of a proper proportion of horse, 
foot, and artillery. The three form the whole, the 
perfect machine. The parts must fit into each other 
as the cogs of one wheel fit into those of another. In 
the war of the future infantry will be used for two 
purposes — to contain the opposing infantry, and to 
hold positions seized by the mobile portion of the 
force, be it cavalry or mounted infantry. There will 
be very little preparation by the artillery for infantry 


War's Brighter Side 

attack, for the simple reason that I am convinced 
that frontal attacks are things of the past. Not the 
modernest of modern artillery, lyddite, melinite, or 
whatever high explosive is used, can by frontal con- 
centration move or weaken infantry sufficiently to 
destroy their defensive power against an infantry 

There will, therefore, be in the next war between 
European or civilised military Powers grand artil- 
lery duels between the opposing artillery, while the 
mounted force of one is trying to outflank the other. 
The obvious necessity, therefore, is the highest de- 
velopment of the most mobile portion of the artillery 
— the R.H.A. Flank movements must necessarily 
be the tactics of the future. Battles will be, as they 
always have been, won by strategy, but for modern 
strategy and modern tactics the great necessity will 
be the greatest mobility of the greatest force. But 
the British Army, as it certainly possesses the finest 
material for infantry in the world, also possesses, I 
feel sure, as fine an artillery as any. I am not talking 
now of guns, but of the men who work them. In 
attempting to outflank an enemy with the mobile 
portion of his force, the general of the next war will 
find his flanking movement met by the mobile por- 
tion of his opponent's army. The result is to be 
either a return to the old cavalry charges against 
cavalry or an artillery duel. The latter, I believe, will 
be the case. The cavalry of the future will be a 
mixture of the mounted infantry men and the cav- 
alry men, and as such will be able to stop with rifle 


I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 

fire any attempts at the old-fashioned charge, and 
the verdict will be pronounced by the gunners. 
Then, indeed, will the better-trained, better-equipped, 
better-handled horse artillery be able either to drive 
back the attack and so save the whole situation, or 
to force in the defence and win the whole battle. 
Wherefore it would appear to me that we should 
improve and improve our horse artillery until we 
have the best guns, the best gunners, and the best 
organisation in the world. I know we have the best 

Exactly the same thing applies to the Field Artil- 
lery, which I, for one, would like to see done away 
with. That is to say, that the distinctions between 
Horse and Field Artillery should be removed. I 
would give a heavier gun and a better gun to the 
Horse Battery, and make the Field Battery men 
mobile. This would give us an uniform artillery, in 
which the mobility of the Field guns would be 
increased and the range of Horse guns improved. 
After all, the difiference in weight of a Field and 
a Horse gun is not so great. We must be pre- 
pared to provide some means of moving it more 
rapidly. The advantages of this change appear to 
be self-evident. The quick and rapid movement of 
artillery is bound to be the great factor in future 
battles. We are making our infantry men mobile, 
every day ; why not do the same with the artillery ? 
If we can bring up a gun of equal calibre to that of 
the enemy, the issue will be to the better-manned, 
better-handled gun. To be able to rapidly throw a 


War's Brighter Side 

great force on any given point of the enemy's line is 
to ensure victory in infantry tactics. The same thing 
apphes, surely, to the artillery. Why have a slow 
and a rapid moving artillery? Why not make the 
whole of it capable of rapidity? 

This campaign has been the first between two 
civilised nations where high explosives have been 
used in the bursting charges. I have made careful 
inquiries from Boer prisoners as to its effect, and the 
only conclusion that I have come to is that veracity 
is not a virtue of the burgher. Some have spoken of 
the bursting of a lyddite shell as the most terrible ex- 
perience they have ever had, and have compared its 
action to that of an earthquake. But I must confess 
that on pursuing my inquiries further I have gen- 
erally found that these vivid portrayers of its awful 
efifects have been attached to some hospital in the 
rear. The prisoners taken at Paardeberg were sin- 
gularly divided as to its destructive power. Albrecht 
is said to have declared that it was a pure waste to 
drop a lyddite shell into soft ground, and to have 
admitted that on rocky ground it had a most de- 
moralising efifect. On the whole, however, I am in- 
clined to say that the efifect of lyddite is certainly 
not as great as we expected, and I cannot help think- 
ing that time-shrapnel well burst and well aimed is 
more dreaded by the Boers than lyddite shells. 

And now I am going to tread on delicate ground. 
We have all our little idiosyncrasies, and gunners are 
not without theirs. They will have nothing to say to 
the Vickers-Maxim. " It is a toy and not a gun," I 


I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 

have heard many a gunner declare. But I contend 
that we have never used it properly. Lord Dun- 
donald's galloping Maxim was intended to accom- 
pany cavalry. Why not have a galloping " pom- 
pom " ? It can be brought into action with great 
speed, it has a great range, and everybody will agree 
that it is a most accurate gun. It would have been 
most useful against the Boers when they fled from 
Poplar Grove, and its effect upon a battery coming 
into action is not to be despised, as the gallant T 
Battery will testify from their experiences at Drie- 
fontein. Again, its use on kopjes held by cavalry 
pending the arrival of infantry would surely be bene- 
ficial. It has a demoralising effect ; even more so 
than a percussion shrapnel, and our enemy in the 
present campaign is particularly susceptible to de- 
moralisation when operating in open ground. 

One of the difficulties with which the artillery in 
the present campaign has had to contend has been 
to find out the extent of our infantry advance for 
which they are preparing with a bombardment. As 
the Mauser and Lee-Metford render early cover 
necessary for infantry, it has come about that our 
infantry, while seeking to render itself invisible to 
the enemy, has succeeded in making itself almost 
entirely invisible to our supporting artillery. On 
many occasions our artillery has ceased fire long 
before it was necessary, because it became impos- 
sible to tell how far our advance extended, for no 
artillery officer — and rightly so — will run the risk 
of inflicting damage on his own infantry. The 

20 1 

War's Brighter Side 

remedy for this state of things has yet to be dis- 

In making public opinions such as these — the 
opinions of a mere layman — I should feel incHned to 
make some kind of apology, knowing as I do that 
they are liable to be read by men whose whole life is 
devoted to the practice as well as the theory of the 
use of artillery in the field, were it not for the fact 
that I am optimistic enough to believe that my re- 
marks will provoke criticism. I am aware that the 
British officer is not much given to rushing into 
print, but I am also convinced that he will not sit 
tamely by when heresies are propagated. If, there- 
fore, the views I have enounced are unsound and 
unpractical, it is his bounden duty to contradict 
them. And in doing so he will probably contribute 
his own views, which will undoubtedly receive far 
greater attention, from the fact that they are set 
forth by men actually serving in the field, than if 
they are kept back till the end of the war, when a 
successful issue will probably bring with it apathy 
on the part of those in whose hands rest the destinies 
of the British Army. 


Rarely, if ever, in the annals of the Ordnance 
Survey has the British Government sent out a fully 
equipped Survey Section, for the purpose of recon- 
naissance duty, previous to the present war. Dur- 
ing the march from Modder River to Bloemfontein, 

I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 

they have had plenty of scope for displaying the 
special training received, necessary for successful 
sketching, surveying and reconnoitring an enemy's 

At Paardeberg a very successful and complete 
sketch to scale was made of the Boers' laager by 
Major Jackson, R.E., who, whilst exposed to a hot 
fire every day and within 800 yards of the enemy's 
trenches, and where men were falling every min- 
ute, nevertheless completed the whole sketch within 
four days. 

This part of the warfare, where you walk well 
within the enemy's firing line with only a revolver, 
the Boers continually sniping and potting, no cover, 
and no chance of a " kick or hit back," makes you 
feel as though you would like to charge into their 
midst, get hand to hand, and at least have one shot 
or hit, in return for the compliments and salutes 
they pay you. But no, you must stand still in the 
open, coolly go on with the sketching, and not mind 
the bullets, even if they take a leg oflf the plane 
table or knock the pencil out of your hand. The 
only thing that is to be feared seriously is the rain, 
and that may make the ink run, spoil the sketch, 
and cause a lot of trouble and annoyance. 

The Boers may " knock spots ofT you," but the 
sketch is the principal thing ; another R.E. Surveyor 
may be obtained, but not another plan, until prob- 
ably too late for practical use. 

Presumably the burghers mistake the tripod and 
plane table (used for the purpose) for a new kind of 


War's Brighter Side 

machine gun, or some other deadly weapon, from 
the way in which they bang away when it is erected, 
and it does, no doubt, surprise them when they find 
it does not spit fire and lead, and probably they put 
it down as a '* Rooinek " risking a snap-shot at close 
quarter, but they are very restless " sitters " and re- 
sent the intrusion of Mausers, although never asked 
to pay a proof in advance — proof positive of a 
neglected education. 


'Twas well remarked by Mack-Praed, 

In wise and witty lay, 
" We're known to be extremely brave ; 

So take the sword away." 

Aye, let the sword and feather go, 
Bright belt and glitt'ring braid ; 

Assume a sad and grub-like hue, 
For battle or for raid. 

No more in steel the warrior gleams, 

In scarlet cuts a dash ; 
The hero now may scarce permit 

His eagle eye to flash. 

For glint and gleam and flash and flare 

Will all aflford a mark ; 
The better plan, in modern days, 

Is just " to keep it dark." 

I Visit Miss Bloemfontein 

We ask no more that you shall shine ; 

Be dull if you would win. 
I mean, of course, in outward show — 

Lucidity within. 

For " slim's " the word now most in vogue 
(That's " sly," if read aright) ; 

From head to heel be dull and dim, 
Your brain alone be bright. 

It is no joy that you should smash 

Your head against a wall ; 
" We're known to be extremely brave," 

So pray be wise withal. 

Be lion-mettled — as you were ; 

But not too proud to scout ; 
And if the foe is right in front, 

Why, go a mile about. 

Go forth in strength of intellect, 

Shining with all your wit ; 
So shall you baulk the wily foe — 

Unhit, shall make a hit. 

E. T. 



Our Very Mixed Public 

A Study of Tommy Atkins, the Inscrutable — Our 
Dutch Compositors Arraigned 

The lady who signed herself " Miss Uit- 
lander " was also kind enough to write for us an 
article on " Tommy in a Lady's Eyes." It was 
clever. She said that Tommy walked the 
streets looking as if he always had walked them 
— and that was true. It is also true that 
Tommy did everything else in the same way. 
Wherever you put him or he found himself he 
uttered no comments or exclamations, but at 
once adapted himself to the situation. During 
the seven months I was with him I never could 
fathom the operations of his mind. Sometimes 
I suspected that he had none; at other times I 
envied him the kind of mind he had. 

Our lady reporter said that Tommy " loves 
to make an impression on the feminine heart — 
but, alas! his khaki uniform does not suit him. 

Our Very Mixed Public 

Like country, like dress. We now see ourselves 
as others see us, a khaki-coloured people in a 
vast khaki-coloured land." Of the officers she 
said, " their amiability, patience, and high breed- 
ing are a treat to come in contact with in a coun- 
try such as this, where Jack is considered as 
good as his master; in his own estimation, a 
very good deal better." 

" Bloemfontein is khaki-mad," she con- 
cluded; "Tommy is everywhere. The shops 
overflow with him — and Jiow he spends his 
money! It will be an object-lesson to those 
who, a few short weeks ago, were sure that Eng- 
land was on the verge of bankruptcy. The 
streets abound with him. The place is a bee- 
hive of soldiery, and never again will be any 
other, I most fervently hope and trust." 

I copy this bit of a long article because it 
brings strongly to mind and in full swing and 
colour the daily scenes in the streets of Bloem- 
fontein. Whenever we ran out of The Friend 
office to the hotel or the printing works or the 
Club, we saw the same endless parade of sol- 
diers up and dow-n the pavements, the same 
motley cavalcade of mounted men in the streets. 
At the sound of drums we all ran out — for civ- 
ilisation was far away, and the natural man was 
welling up strong in us — to see a regiment 
marching in, or out — or, too often, to view a 
15 207 

War's Brighter Side 

funeral procession leading a poor bundle of the 
dust of a hero strapped upon a gun-carriage. 

In the shops we found a wall of soldiers be- 
fore every counter. They were in swarms like 
flies in all except the drinking places. There 
they could not go; poor fellows, to whom a 
drink would have seemed so much more than to 
us, who could have it whenever and wherever 
we wanted it. 

I will say again, here, as I have said else- 
where once before, that though we underwent 
more danger than many of the soldiers (who 
were not sent, as we were, into every battle), 
and though we endured hardships sufficient to 
daunt many strong men, we correspondents 
had this advantage over the rest — that, no mat- 
ter how light was the marching-kit ordered for 
the troops, we were usually followed by our 
carts, and when these came up with us, we had 
abundance — and some luxuries. 

It was my good fortune to be able to re- 
plenish the larder of one regiment more than 
once when, between battles, it entertained a 
general or the Commander-in-Chief. We in 
Roberts's and Methuen's army, were neyer criti- 
cised for living as well as we could, but there is 
a story current in army and war correspondent 
circles to the effect that the hero of Omdurman 
severely rebuked certain correspondents for 

Our Very Mixed Public 

living on a scale whicK provoked the envy of 
the officers, and demoralised them. One corre- 
spondent of the little mess that was thus criti- 
cised — a man who drank very little himself — is 
said to have utilised one camel solely to carry 
the champagne with which he entertained his 
friends among the officers. I do not say what 
I might have done had this story been told me 
earlier, but, as it was, I had no camel, and the 
champagne that kind friends sent me from Eng- 
land never reached me. 

My stores consisted of poultry in tins, pud- 
dings, jams (how good those Cape jams are, by 
the way; they should have a great sale in all 
civilised parts), tinned vegetables, bully beef, 
and bullier tongue and ham, preserved fruits, 
biscuits, figs, cigarettes, cigars, and a little most 
evanescent whisky. 

But to get back to the streets of soldier- 
burdened Bloemfontein; how surely, as we 
assembled in the corner by the office, did the 
soldiers recognise their poet and friend. He 
looked at all of them in general, but all of them 
stared at him in particular. They passed the 
word from rank to rank, " There's Rudyard 
Kipling! " and then marched on, leaving their 
eyes on his face while their bodies passed along, 
until it looked as if they must dislocate their 
necks before they had their fill of seeing him. 

War's Brighter Side 

He was like a comrade when he talked to 
a private, and talk to them he did. Jack tar, 
Colonial, regular, and Pathan, he talked to all 

" How are you getting- on? Is your camp 
all right? Near here? Where was your last 
fight? " So he both introduced himself and set 
them talking and at ease — all in a breath. 

But, as I have said, " Tommy " is inscru- 
table. I stepped one day into a German tobac- 
conist's across the street from, and farther 
along than, the Club, and found it packed by 
soldiers who were being served by an insolent 
German with a portrait of ex-President Steyn 
in his coat lapel. 

" Take that picture out of your button- 
hole," said I. " What do you mean by wearing 
a thing like that when you are under British 
rule, and have been both protected and gener- 
ously treated?" 

" I vill vear vot I shoose," said he. 

I made a mental promise to see that he did 
not wear that emblem much longer, and then 
turning to the soldiers I said, " Men, did you 
see what this man is wearing? Why do you 
spend your money on a man whose sympathies 
are with the Boers? Give his shop the cold 
shoulder, and he will soon see that he is making 
a mistake." 


Our Very Mixed Public 

The appeal was in vain. The men instantly 
began to look very uncomfortable. They rolled 
their eyes up to the ceiling or pinned their gaze 
on the floor. No one said a word or even shot 
a glance of approval in my direction. They 
did not care. Tommy does not care — never 
cares — about anything, apparently. 

I tried to keep my promise. Search was 
made for that tobacconist, but he never served 
behind his counter after that visit of mine. He 
saved the military the trouble of sending him 
to Capetown. 

Lively days were those for rebels and irrec- 
oncilables. The men who had most ardently 
furthered the cause of the Bond and the Trans- 
vaal war party, and who had the indecency to 
loiter in the town, were quickly weeded out and 
sent to the Boer prison camp near Capetown. 
If we could not always tell who were our friends, 
these mischievous wretches were worse ofT, for, 
ofttimes, their old neighbours, tired of the war 
and awake to the folly of keeping it up, pointed 
them out to the military, and retailed their 
nauseous histories. 

" I feel a little like a lieutenant of Fouche," 
said one correspondent to me. " I had pointed 
out to me a former editor of one of the local 
papers whose pen was used with vitriol and who 
did as much as any man to degrade and spoil 


War's Brighter Side 

this little country. I was told that he is still 
talking angrily and abusively of us, and I was 
indignant. I mentioned the case to a promi- 
nent military officer and in three hours the man 
was a prisoner on his way to Capetown. I feel 
as if I was living in Paris in the French revolu- 
tion — very creepy and uncomfortable. I shall 
keep my discoveries of such rascals to myself 
after this." 

In this number mine was the leader entitled, 
" Do we Spare the Rod too Much? " A friend- 
ly visitor, whose signature " L. D.-J." unfor- 
tunately fails to recall his full name to my mind, 
wrote a very interesting sketch called " Towards 
War," which shows with fidelity to the truth 
how the mere process of going to war prepares 
one for the war itself. Mr. Landon wrote the 
first true account most of us saw or heard of the 
mishap at Karree Siding, where four of our offi- 
cers were shot, on March 23, while riding over 
the country on a search for forage. Lieut. 
Lygon, who was one of the killed, was an inti- 
mate and beloved friend of Mr. Landon, who 
mourned him deeply and most lovingly looked 
after his burial and the proper marking of his 
grave. Death had come too close to all of us 
far too often, but never quite so close to any 
one of us as in this instance. 

Mr. Gwynne's thoughtful essays on the revo- 

Our Very Mixed Public 

lutionised science of war produced a first reply 
in this number, from an officer competent to dis- 
cuss the subject. General Sir Henry Colvile 
wrote with much good humour twitting us for 
the blundering of our compositors, who had 
made a botch of the double acrostic he had so 
kindly sent us some days before. The fact that 
we were as much to blame as the compositors 
he managed, with extremely clever wording, to 
make us feel, though he did not say so. Those 
compositors! — were ever men so badly served as 
we were by them? They doubled our work, 
and though we corrected every error they made 
they often spoiled our efforts at the last by fail- 
ing to carry out our corrections. They were so 
ingenious as to spell struggle " strxxlg," and 
then to insist that it should appear so in The 
Friend. They invented the new rank of 
" branch colonel " to take the place of briga- 
dier-general or lance-corporal, I cannot remem- 
ber which. I used to think they made this 
trouble on purpose, for I knew that some were 
Dutch and all had been with the Boers before 
we came. And when secret pro-Boer circulars 
and incentives to disorder were found to have 
been printed in the town, I had a sneaking 
suspicion that I could guess who were the 

We cut the Gordian knot of one of our 

War's Brighter Side 

troubles in this number by reducing the price of 
The Friend to one penny to men of all ranks 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts^ Forces.) 


To Correspondents. — Please do not write on both 
sides of your letter sheets when you contribute to 
The Friend, 

It's all right to take a kopje on both sides, but 
you should not send it in on both sides. 

Some of the Editors are sufficiently profane 



Sir, — " We don't hexpect hart and we don't 
hexpect hacting, but yer might jine yer flats." 

It is perhaps too much to expect that the gentle- 
man who sets up the type of The Friend should 
know the usual structure of a double-acrostic, or 
that he should trouble himself with such details as 
my punctuation and spelling ; but he might have let 
my lines continue to scan and retain some germ of 
meaning; and, even if he did not realise that the 
proem was intended for verse, he might have let it 
stand as English prose. His statement that " ac- 

Our Very Mixed Public 

cording to the writer " the answer gives " the most 
appropriate cognomen," &c., is interesting, as any- 
thing must be that falls from his stick. It further 
reveals a wealth of imagination of which his previ- 
ous efforts gave us no hint. 

H. C. 
Writer of the Double Acrostic 

in Saturday's issue. 
Bloemfontein, 24th March, 1900. 

(Please don't shoot the Editors, they are doing 
their best. — Ed., Friend.) 


BY L. D.-J. 

The crowded platform at Waterloo, the groups of 
men in great-coats gathered round figures in ulsters 
with travelling rugs upon their arms ; the long train 
with its dirty painted boards above the carriages 
inscribed " Aldershot," " Basingstoke," " South- 
ampton " ; the last joke, the last catchword, the last 
farewell grip of parting hands ; the sudden remem- 
brance of need of newspaper or sandwich ; the bustle 
and hurry of railway officials, servants, late voy- 
agers, or later friends, thronging the platform 
from refreshment-room to book-stall : these tell 
little to the observer of war and its alarms. Only 
at either end of the platform where the great 
doors of the baggage-brakes yawn upon piles of 
valises, beneath whose white-painted rank, name, 

War's Brighter Side 

regiment, the bold initials " S.A.F.F." catch the 
eye, guarded by soldier servants, field-service cap 
on right eye, uniform hidden under collared great- 
coat; or on the racks of the compartments, where 
curiously shaped tin cases cover the cocked hat or 
the helmet, and where, showing through a bundle 
of canes, golf-clubs, and polo sticks, is seen the 
clumsy brown leather shape of a sword case, is there 
a hint of military significance, a clue to the tension 
of the thronged faces, taking a farewell under cir- 
cumstances not of the ordinary. 

The Saturday afternoon in December, yellow and 
dull under the bitter black frost which has gripped 
the heart of the land, as the ill news has gripped the 
heart of the people, which comes to round off a week 
whose despatches have announced the disasters of 
Stormberg, Magersfontein, Tugela, the threefold 
defeat on hill and plain and river — is no day for 
cheerful leave-taking. Although every lip is silent 
on the subject of the morning's news, latest and 
worst of all ; although the spoken word is all of a 
brilliant campaign, a stroke of luck, a speedy and 
safe return, there looms before each mind the com- 
ing list of casualties, the thought of war's inevitable 
chances, the possibility that here and now are some 
who may never be seen again firm-footed on a 
metropolitan causeway, whose trick of a smile, twist 
of a moustache, and cock of hat upon forehead 
must become a slowly dimming memory through 
the remnants of a life. 


Our Very Mixed Public 

The fire blazes against the frosty draught in the 
hall of the Southampton Hotel. Baggage is piled 
upon baggage half-ceiling high in every corner. 
Hungry men are hurriedly moving along the cor- 
ridors towards the dining-room, in their travelling 
suits of tweed or serge. At two or three tables 
family parties are dining together for the last time ; 
the women silent, quiet-eyed, smiling but momen- 
tarily at the sally of light-hearted youth, a sigh ever 
held in suspense behind kind lips and white teeth. 
The writing-room holds a group of scrawling men, 
finishing final letters, re-iterant of parting phrases, 
enforcing last injunctions, expressing forgotten be- 
hests. And at the foot of the stairs stand two 
officers in uniform, both in peaked caps, one mili- 
tary, one naval, with white bands upon their sleeves. 
They are the Embarking Staff Officers ; they are the 
first visible sign of war. 


Grey fog upon the waters, grey fog hanging 
round the sheds upon the wharves, a grey transport 
with red funnels, towering above the levels of water 
and quay. Cranes rapidly sling guns, waggons, 
cases, with creak, shout and thud over the grey bul- 
warks. Lines of uncouth figures in grey great-coats, 
and blue red-banded sea-caps, pass sight-protected 
rifles from hand to hand up the steep gangways and 
along between rows of boxes and baggage to the 
armoury. The saloon is filled with lunching officers, 
their friends and relatives. The last toast is lifted in 
silence to the last lips ; and eyes looking over brim 

War's Brighter Side 

of wine-glass are eloquent of more than speech is 
master of. The harsh clang of the warning bell, 
speaking full-voiced the words of Destiny, transfers 
to the grey quay groups of dispirited, saddened 
women, and of men stern-eyed and holding be- 
tween their teeth and under the cover of moustache 
or beard, minute bleeding portions of their inner lips. 

On the promenade deck, gay in a scarlet jumper, 
over-weighted a little by his large khaki-covered 
helmet, leans upon a stanchion a very junior subal- 
tern. His boyish, hairless face is blue with the cold 
frost-fog, he is biting very rapidly and nervously 
at the end of a cigar that went out ere half its length 
was smoked. Looking up at him from the wharf 
below, a group isolated from other groups holds a 
tall lady clad in furs, heavily veiled, her handkerchief 
peeping from her muff, and one arm resting heavily 
upon that of a grey-haired military man, while son 
and daughter, or nephew and niece, perhaps gather 
protectingly to her side. 

There is still delay. The gangways are removed, 
but still the hawsers hold. The cold compels the 
watchers on the wharf to take a few hurried, swiftly- 
turned paces up and down its length. The voyagers 
stamp upon the deck, or beat a furtive arm across a 
swelling chest. But they do not turn even for a 
second from contemplation of that shore they may 
never see again. ... A whistle blows, there is the 
sound of a cable slipping through the water, the lady 
in the furs comes hastily forward, puts up her veil a 
little way and tries to shout. The youthful subaltern 


Our Very Mixed Public 

leans out perilously over the side. The words come 
faintly up. ..." Good-bye ! Rex. , . . God bless 
you ! . . . I know I shall see you again. . . ." The 
lady beats her hand desperately upon her muff, 
and dabs her handkerchief unknowingly against her 
veil. . . . 

The band aft is playing *' Auld Lang Syne," a 
stretch of greenish water spreads between ship and 
shore, a few half-hearted cheers are rising through 
the grey fog, and the sound of a melancholy chapel 
bell in the distant town tells of a half-forgotten Sab- 
bath. . , . The subaltern's eyes no longer see things 
clearly, and the handkerchief he waves as answer 
to those fluttering along the grey length of the 
quay is heavy and damp. . . . 

So we come a little closer to the realities of war. 

Lights flicker and gleam in the dark shade of the 
poplar trees fringing the platform. There is a hush 
over those who hold space upon the gravel before 
the station-master's office. In the darkness it is 
difficult to see who one's neighbour may chance to 
be. But voices betray the presence of the P.M.O. 
and half a dozen officers from the Field Hospital 
behind the church. At the other end of the plat- 
form lie the sinister stretchers of a bearer company 
laid out in an interminable row. Up to the line 
comes the low melancholy whistle of the armoured 
train. . . . 

All day from far beyond the ring of hills that 
cages the camp upon the plain has come the dull 

War's Brighter Side 

booming of heavy guns. There has been a battle 
and there have been losses : this we know. The ap- 
proaching train is bringing in the wounded from the 
scene of action, but who they may be who suffer we 
have yet to learn. As the light comes round the 
bend above the water-tank, there is a stir among the 
waiting groups. A command rings out, and is fol- 
lowed by the shuffle of feet as the bearer company 
stands to its stretchers. The train glides slowly, 
looming up in its solid armoured squareness between 
the goods sheds and the rolling-stock upon the sid- 
ings. It draws into the little colonial wayside station 
with a flash of its headlight that renders the platform 
darker than ever. The form of its commander drops 
from the rear carriage, with its maxim-portals, and 
its loop-holes for rifles, all sliding by dim and grey 
and sinister. In a low voice he tells the P.M.O. " six 
killed, fourteen wounded, I have brought down 
eight." " Any officers ? " questions some one in the 
background. " Jones is killed, and Spindrift miss- 
ing," comes the response, " and young Michael is 
here, shot in five places." . . . 

Lanterns swing back and forth, the doctors get 
into the carriage, there is a low, subdued murmur of 
voices from within ; a breath of some antiseptic 
comes from the interior ; a groan is audible. Then 
the bearer company marches slowly along the edge 
of the platform. Four men enter with their 
stretcher, and after a painful lapse of time, the lan- 
terns swing again, the group stands back a little, 
and slowly, carefully, feet foremost, the first 


Our Very Mixed Public 

wounded man is brought out, and lowered upon 
his stretcher to the ground. While his blankets are 
being arranged there is time to see him indistinctly : 
a bandage round his head with a dark, tell-tale patch 
soaking through it, a pale face with closed eyes and 
a pale moustache disarranged across his mouth. 
Last night we dined and drank together. Now, as 
he is borne off out of hearing, the medical officers 
whisper, " poor chap, there is no hope for him ; he 
cannot last the night." 

Gradually the armoured train disgorges its un- 
happy load, the stretchers receive their burdens, the 
marshalled procession goes slowly over the line 
towards the hospital, the medical officers in close 
attendance, and the engine pushes and pulls its 
bullet-proof trucks back through the night to fetch 
another cargo. 

War and its horrors are with us now, and are 
scarcely so terrible after all. Our gradual approach 
has softened them or possibly hardened us — who 
shall say which ? 



There has been so much misrepresentation of the 
facts connected with the unfortunate incident at 
Karree Siding on the 23rd that the following brief 
description of what actually occurred may be of 

A military camp had been formed at the Glen — 


War's Brighter Side 

the point at which the railway crosses the Modder 
River, thirteen miles north of Bloemfontein — on the 
previous day, and Colonel Eyre Crabbe, of the 
Grenadier Guards, had been appointed commandant, 
with his adjutant, Lieutenant Edward Lygon, as 
his staff officer. 

Forage was scarce, and it became necessary to 
collect a small amount from the neighbouring farms. 
Colonel Crabbe, accompanied by Colonel Codring- 
ton of the Coldstream Guards, Lieutenant Lygon, 
Captain Trotter, and one orderly, set out after lunch- 
eon on Friday for this purpose, and, moving out 
in a northerly direction, visited three farms, and 
then, finding themselves close to the railway office 
at Karree Siding, entered the telegraph room at that 
place and found that the instruments had been 

On riding out from the station they saw on a 
ridge to the north four mounted Boers against the 
sky-line, and Colonel Crabbe, calling out " Come 
on, let us round them up," set out at once in their 
direction, followed by Colonel Codrington and the 
others. A slight protest was made against the dan- 
ger of the attempt. 

The Boers had ridden away to the west, but were 
still in sight, and they were seen attempting to double 
back over a slight rise in the ground strewn with 
boulders that scarcely deserves the name of a kopje. 

Believing that the enemy had ridden over and 
away, the small party moved on and divided at the 
base of this fold. Captain Trotter and Lieutenant 


Our Very Mixed Public 

Lygon moving off to the right, the two Colonels and 
the orderly keeping to the left. 

The Boers, however, leaving their horses at the 
back of the rise, took up positions behind the rocks, 
and opened a well-aimed and constant fire upon our 
men. Colonel Crabbe, whose horse had fallen at 
the first shot, was struck through the forearm and 
thigh, Colonel Codrington received a bullet as he 
lay on the ground attempting to return the fire, and 
the orderly was wounded in the ankle. Meanwhile 
firing on the other flank continued for two or three 
minutes, until Lieutenant Lygon, who had dis- 
mounted and was running forward to gain the cover 
of an anthill, was shot through the heart. Death 
was instantaneous, even Captain Trotter being un- 
aware of it until he turned round, receiving at the 
same moment an expanding bullet through the 

Thus the whole of the small force was now either 
dead or wounded, and Colonel Crabbe surrendered. 
The Boers instantly came down into the open, and, 
expressing their regret, did all they could to dress 
the wounds. Captain Trotter undoubtedly owing his 
life to the tourniquet applied to his arm. 

The wounded men were afterwards carried by the 
Boers with great care to Mr. Maas' farm, and the 
news was sent back to the Glen by a Kaf^r. 

Lieutenant Lygon's body was borne back on the 
following morning, and was buried near the small 
white kraal a hundred yards to the east of the rail- 
way bridge. The funeral, which took place at sun- 

i6 223 

War's Brighter Side 

set on Saturday, was most impressive, the entire 
battalion attending the voluntary parade and lining 
the path between the camp and the grave. 

Little comment is needed. Clearly the virtue that 
runs to a fault has here been to blame. The same 
unquestioning pluck that impels an officer in leading 
his men on the field of battle prompted this careless 
enterprise, with the miserable result we have re- 
corded. We have lost — and the loss is the loss of 
the whole force — one of the best and most popular 
of our younger officers, and of the other casualties 
one at least may prove more serious than was antici- 
pated, but at least it is a compensation to remember 
that, however unfortunate the issue, the quiet pluck 
and discipline of the army have been once more 
tried and not found wanting. 


Advice to Looters 


Don't call on the Provost Marshal with a couple 
of live chickens on your saddle bow. 

Don't attempt to carry ofif a grand piano on an 
ammunition waggon ; it might be noticed. 

Don't cook sheep's kidneys ostentatiously in 
camp ; you may be asked where you found the sheep. 

Don't load your horse with flannel petticoats 
when carrying a message to a general ; flannel petti- 
coats are not a part of military equipment. 

Our Very Mixed Public 

Don't swagger about camp with an air of re- 
pletion when the force is subsisting on quarter 

Don't try to stuff a pillow into your helmet; it 
only spoils your appearance and gives the show 

Don't " pick up " anything with the broad ar- 
row on it. 

Don't steal a horse from the Club railings when 
its owner is having a whisky and soda ; it is dis- 
tinctly dangerous. 

Don't " steal " a horse at all, but let it " wander 
into your lines." 

Don't drive a flock of sheep across the pond of 
the Headquarter Staff; they might delay the Com- 
mander-in-Chief and make him angry. 

Don't wear a bunch of false hair in your hat ; it 
was never served out to you. 

Don't carry ladies' silk stockings in your wallets ; 
they won't fit you. 

Don't shout out in camp, " Who's stolen my 
silk umbrella ? " People might ask you where you 
got it from. 

Don't avoid ostentatiously the Provost Marshal 
as he rides along, greet him kindly and openly and 
perhaps he will not suspect you. 


At Colesberg, in one of the numerous cavalry 
fights, an old Boer was held at mercy by a lancer 

War's Brighter Side 

who had his lance ready to strike, " Moe nie ! Moe 
nie ! " cried the old man, which, being translated, 
means " Don't, don't ! " The lancer, however, didn't 
understand Dutch, and replied, " I don't want your 
money, I want your life," but the renewed appeal was 
too piteous, and the old man was taken prisoner. 



'' Vive la Compagnie " 

Four Correspondents Dine the General, the Gov- 
ernor, and Rudyard Kipling, and Produce The 
Friend as well 

" Alles zal recht komen " were the words 
of the late President Brand, true friend of the 
English, which were graven on the pedestal of 
his statue before the doors of the Residency. 
We repeated them in new " tabs " beside the 
heading of our paper on March 28th, with an 
amended English translation facing them: 
" All has come right." 

" All shall come right," we said, in our edi- 
torial, " was the motto of the late Orange Free 
State. What a prophet was he who conceived 
it, and how quickly has come the fruition of his 
prophecy! All has come right." 

We published an appreciative editorial upon 
Sir Alfred Milner, who had come on the pre- 
vious day upon a visit to Lord Roberts. It was 

War's Brighter Side 

written by Mr. Landon. Mr. Kipling contrib- 
uted more " Kopje-Book Maxims," and bore a 
heavy hand in the production of an amusing col- 
umn, entitled, " The Military Letter Writer." 

This was the way that column came into 
being. Mr. Landon, Mr. Kipling, and I were in 
the poet's bedroom when Mr. Landon produced 
a model letter-writer which he had found some- 
where. I take great credit for the phrase 
" found somewhere " ; it might, with any other 
man than Mr. Landon, be so full and rich in 
meaning. The book professed to be a sober 
guide to the young and the ignorant in the 
paths of epistolary literature; therefore it was 
bound to be supremely funny. We screamed 
over what Landon read to us out of it. 

Said Mr. Kipling: " Let's write some model 
military letters," and, as was his wont, he seized 
a pencil and paper and began to write No. i, 
reading as he wrote. He urged us both to con- 
tribute, and Mr. Landon tried with much good 
intent, while I wished to do so, but could not 
begin to keep pace with the poet. Instant col- 
laboration is almost always impossible, espe- 
cially where the inspiration comes to one man 
who is seized by it, and begins to give it expres- 
sion before his companions can match their 
minds with his. Therefore Mr. Kipling went 
on and on, and Mr. Landon took the block and 

" Vive la Compagnie " 

pencil and wrote as Mr. Kipling talked. Thus 
were produced letter No. i and the italicised in- 
troduction to No. 2; the rest Mr. Landon ar- 
ranged and edited out of his book. 

The column was pieced out at the end with 
No. 3 of Mr. Kipling's " Fables for the Staff," 
which was, therefore, hidden in a bottom cor- 
ner of the page — a stroke of genius on the part 
of those whom we anathematised collectively in 
the singular number as " The Dutch Com- 

Mr. Buxton had been called away to Cape- 
town just after Mr. Kipling's arrival, and my 
associates, hag-ridden by the confusion and an- 
noyances consequent upon the lack of a prac- 
tised head to the little institution, had thrust 
upon me the honour and hard work of what 
may be called the managing editor's place. 
Thenceforth it was my duty to deal with the 
gnomes in the dust hall, the retiring and 
reticent cashier in another building, and the 
inmates of the Home for Boer Compositors, 
otherwise known as the ofifice of the late unla- 
mented Express. When I saw the genius of the 
Master thrust to the bottom corner of the 
paper, or made grotesque by mis-spelling and 
exhibitions of " pie," I felt that I alone was to 
blame, and hid myself and vowed to produce 
better results if I had to set up the type myself. 

War's Brighter Side 

From an able major of Engineers we re- 
ceived for this number a confident and well- 
studied reply to Mr. Gwynne's articles on the 
effects of the war upon military science. 

This was the day upon which Mr. Landon, 
Mr. Gwynne, Mr. James Barnes, and myself 
were to entertain at dinner Sir Alfred Milner, 
Lord Roberts, and Rudyard Kipling. The 
menus had been printed under the eye of Mr. 
Landon, and were very distinguished examples 
of plain typography. As twenty-four were to 
be used, we gave twelve each to Mr. W. B. 
Wollen, R.L, and to Mr. Lester Ralph, war art- 
ists with the army, requesting these able friends 
to do their best to produce on each guest's menu 
a picture illustrative of some exploit or leading 
characteristic of the recipient. A very notable 
series of drawings resulted — so notable that the 
Field-Marshal, whose own card showed him in 
the act of receiving the Keys of Bloemfontein, 
asked to see them all. When toward the end 
of the repast, each man wrote his name on every 
menu, you may be certain those bits of paste- 
board bearing the simple words, " The Dinner 
of the 28th of March, Bloemfontein, 1900," 
leaped high in value, and in the jealous pride of 
every man who had one. 

That was a dinner! An affair as unique and 

€^t ©inner 

of t^t 2Si9 of (JUarcp 


Sit Q^foemfon^ein. 

1st page of Menu. 




2d page of Menu. 


tomato ^oup. 

^ticaastt of C^icfitn, 


($ioAei i&irfotn of Q0eef. 

Jtencp Qgeana. 

Q0fAttC (mange, 

Jlnjee a Cfetfaf. 
C0ee«e. Coffee. 

3d page of Menu. 

1/ ^ 



/7zt— i^-'V-^ 

\ ■ ^ 5 


C* /I rt 



" Vive la Compagnie " 

as singular an episode of war as — as, let us say, 
The Friend itself. Beside the great General, 
the High Commissioner, and the Poet of the 
Empire, we had with us General Pretyman, 
Military Governor of the town; General For- 
estier-Walker, the courtly commander of the 
Lines of Communication; the gallant, debonair 
Pole-Carew; the redoubtable flashing-eyed 
Hector Macdonald; the polished Sir Henry 
Colvile; Colonel Otter, the leadei" of the men 
with the maple-leaf; Lord Stanley, diplomat and 
censor; Lord Kerry; Colonel Girourad, binder 
of new Empire-fractions with threads of steel; 
Colonel Hanbury Williams, the High Commis- 
sioner's right hand; Colonel Neville Chamber- 
lain, veteran at Empire building — and then our 
comrade-historians of the pen and pencil, W. B. 
Wollen, R.L, Lester Ralph, H. F. P. Battersby, 
A. B. Paterson, H. C. Shelley, and W. Blelock. 
We had invited Lord Kitchener, but he was 
away at Prieska. 

We dined at the railway station, because it 
had the largest room and the best cook in the 
new colony. 

I hear the band outside. I see a carriage roll 
up, and Sir Alfred Milner springs out, spare- 
framed and visaged like an eagle. The Field- 
Marshal follows him, precise in movement, gen- 
tle of mien but erect and firm as steel, with long 

War's Brighter Side 

usage of command resting as light and firm 
upon him as if he was born with it. All the 
others are in the room, under the flaming flag 
and the huge paper roses. We dine — better 
than at the Residency — upon several courses 
and with good wine a-plenty. 

I see my handsome and gifted colleague, 
Mr. Landon, rise to toast the High Commis- 
sioner. What's this we hear? He is welcom- 
ing the Viceroy as a brother in journalism, a 
newspaper man like ourselves. Up rises the 
man who lives in the heart of care and the 
furnace of dissension — pale, grave, concentrated, 
like one who thinks of but one thing and has 
but one thing to do — and that a thing gigantic. 
He repHes that it is true that he was once a 
writer like ourselves; that he enjoyed those 
days; that he made delightful friends and spent 
glad hours in them; that he has had much to do 
with the gentlemen of the Press in Capetown, 
and that his relations with all have been without 
a flaw. After that he speaks but little of the 
heart of care where his official bed is laid, or of 
the furnace blasts of treason and of discord 
round his chair at the Cape, but, with unas- 
sumed modesty, calls our attention to the mili- 
tary magician across the table and to what he 
has done. 

It is Mr. Gwynne who rises next — the best- 

" Vive la Compagnie " 

equipped war correspondent with the British 
forces, both as a campaigner and a critic of war, 
and high among the best as a writer. It is fit- 
ting that he should introduce the Field-Mar- 
shal, for he is liked and trusted by his distin- 
guished guest, who has discovered, I fancy, that 
under the correspondent's khaki beats the heart 
of the soldier. 

Lord Roberts replied that he was very proud 
to be the guest of the war correspondents. He 
liked to have them with him, and he was glad 
when they criticised whatever was amiss, for he 
profited by reading what they said. Turning to 
us, the Field-Marshal remarked, " You share 
all our hardships and exposure. All the troops 
do not engage in every battle, but you go to 
all, so that you experience even more danger 
than most of us. May I call you ' comrades '? " 

I remember that he spoke earnestly of the 
work Sir Alfred Milner was doing, and cred- 
ited that statesman with the most difficult task 
of any man who served the Empire. One other 
bit of his address I recall — a mere phrase, but a 
remarkable one: "The gentlemen I command 
— my gentlemanly army." 

It was my good fortune to introduce Rud- 

yard Kipling — a delicate as well as a proud task, 

because I knew that fulsome praise, or even 

the most honest appreciation, would make him 


War's Brighter Side 

uncomfortable. But what was there to say that 
every one did not know? He replied by giving 
us for a toast an absentee who had done a grand 
work in bringing two new colonies into the Em- 
pire — one Stephanus Johannes Paulus Kruger. 
After the great guests went home a dozen or 
fifteen of us remained and enjoyed an im- 
promptu little sing-song, when this to me 
touching and singular incident occurred. Gen- 
eral Pole-Carew came to me and said, " Your 
son Lester should go home and go to bed. He 
is in a high fever. I know what it means, for I 
have had it six times. Look after him well." 
My son was then in the thirteenth day of an 
attack of enteric, about which he had said not a 
word to any one. In that condition he had 
drawn the pictures on the menus of Lord Rob- 
erts, General Pole-Carew, General French (who 
could not come), Lord Stanley, General Colvile, 
Colonel Otter, Mr. Kipling, and others. Les- 
ter, on hearing what the General had said, de- 
clared it was no news to him and, after thanking 
the General, went home and to bed. There, 
until we could get him to a hospital, Mr. Kip- 
ling nursed him with consummate skill and the 
gentleness of a woman; interesting and, to me, 
precious memories of a world in which some of 
us find too few of such suggestions of the better 
world to come. 


" Vive la Compagnie " 

In this " Free State Hospital," with the 
ministrations of the matron, Miss Young, and 
her devoted lady nurses, the same strong es- 
sence of unselfishness made the siege of sickness 
a period of pleasure. Generals, colonels, corre- 
spondents and all of the salt of the army went 
there often to cheer the patients — one of whom 
was Mr. Oppenheim of the Daily News. 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Forces) 


J WEDNESDAY, MARCH 28, 1900. LOie Penny. 


Notice is hereby given that, communication with 
the Cape Colony having been restored, the Laws and 
Regulations of the Customs Convention have been 
put into force by virtue of the proclamation of Field- 
Marshal Lord Roberts, dated the 20th instant, and 
that from and after this date Government Notice, 
No. 106, published in the " Gouvernements Cou- 
rant " of the 27th October, 1899, by which the Cus- 
toms dues on provisions and merchandise were tem- 
porarily suspended will be considered null and void, 
in so far as those portions of the State now occupied 
by Her Majesty's troops are concerned. 
By order 
J. H. Meiring, Collector of Customs. 
Customs' House, Bloemfontein, 24th March, 1900. 

War's Brighter Side 


Whereas it is necessary that all State and pri- 
vate property in the South African Republic and the 
Orange Free State shall be protected from wanton 
destruction and damage, 


I, Frederick Sleigh Baron Roberts of 
Khandahar, K.P., G.C.B., G.C.S.I., G.C.I.E., V.C, 
Field Marshal, Commanding-in-Chief the British 
Forces in South Africa, do hereby give notice that 
all persons who, within the territories of the South 
African Republic or the Orange Free State shall 
authorise or be guilty of the wanton destruction or 
damage or the counselling, aiding, or assisting in the 
wanton destruction or damage of public or private 
property (such destruction or damage not being 
justified by the usages and customs of civilised war- 
fare), will be held responsible in their persons and 
property for all such wanton destruction and 

Given under my hand at Bloemfontein, this 
Twenty-sixth day of March, 1900. 

god save the queen. 

Field Marshal, 
Commanding-in-Chief Her Majesty's Forces in 
South Africa. 


" Vive la Compagnie " 



The High Commissioner of South Africa left 
Bloemfontein after the mercifully abortive confer- 
ence on June 6th of last year. Yesterday he re- 
entered the town. The interval has been for some 
a time of hard fighting, for all a time of anxiety, and 
amid the enthusiasm of his welcome to the capital, 
his strong confidence during the darker days, his un- 
swerving fidelity to the high ideal of his Imperial 
work, must be in the minds of all. 

His entry into Bloemfontein, the capital of one of 
the two colonies destined to fall into line with the 
progress of United South Africa, is an occasion that 
will be recognised by the historian of this war as 
closing one " swelling act of the Imperial theme." 

Half — perhaps more than half — of Lord Roberts' 
work has been done ; the greater part of Sir Alfred 
Milner's task lies still before him. In welcoming 
him within its walls Bloemfontein does not forget 
that long after the transports have sailed with the 
last of the troops of the expedition, the High Com- 
missioner will still be confronted with a gigantic 
work, requiring alike foresight, tact, and strength of 
will. And Bloemfontein, like the rest of the Empire, 
is well content to leave in the hands of Sir Alfred 
Milner the solution of the problem upon the right 
interpretation of which the fortunes of this enormous 
federation must depend. 


War's Brighter Side 


Sing they who will of the Yeomen Imperial, 

Gillies, Scouts, " Tigers," and bold C.I.V. ; 
Others may hold to more usual material. 
Horse, Foot, and Rifles, and Artillerie. 
But there's a corps with its name writ in History — 
Bold they as lions and steadfast as rocks — 
Gaily we'll troll our song, 
Slow as we stroll along — 
Trickle and roll along — 
Driving the Ox ! 

But when the war-cloud frowns thicker and lowereth, 

When the quick-moving battalions are met ; 
Not where the soft-hissing bullet most showereth, 

Not in the forefront our places are set. 
Still drive we on, though a day's march in rear we be, 
O'er veldt and vlei, with the mud to our hocks — 
Still will we push along, 
, Nor sadly hush our song. 
Though we don't rush along, 
Driving the Ox ! 

Fill, then, a cup to the Beeves of Her Majesty, 
Long in the rear may their colours be seen ! 
Heavy their loads, but their hearts light as anything, 

Doing strong work for their country and Queen. 
What though they jeer who sweep by with the 
mounted troops ? 
Treat we as nought all their jibes and their mocks. 

" Vive la Compagnie " 

Though ne'er a fight we'll see, 
Cheerful and bright we'll be, 
We're a grand sight to see, 
Driving the Ox ! 

"Old Man." 


The Persuasive Pom-pom 

by rudyard kipling 


A Field-Artillerist passing a newly-imported 
Pom-pom overwhelmed it with Contumely, saying, 
" What has a Gunner to do with an Unqualified 
Sewing-machine ? " 

To this the virtuous Mechanism returned no 
answer, but communicated these Atrocious Senti- 
ments to a fellow Pom-pom in the Opposing Army 
which, later, catching the Field-battery crossing a 
Donga gave it Ten-a-penny for two Minutes to the 
Confusion of all concerned. 

" Alas ! " said the Field-artillerist as he watched 
his Leg disassociate itself from the Remainder of his 
Anatomy, " Who would have thought that an 
Implement ofificially rejected by the War Office and 
what is more, damned by Myself, could have done 
so neat a Trick ? " 

Moral. Do not condemn the Unofficial. It 
hits hard. 

'Copyrighted, used here by permission. 
17 239 

War's Brighter Side 


Forms and Models 

by rudyard kipling and percival landon 

No. I 

i^From a General of Division unshaven for eight 
days who lost his horse, which he had lately comman- 
deered from a subaltern of transport, after having di?ied 
not wisely but too well at a Cavalry Camp, five miles 
from his own tent, to ivhich he was conducted through a 
rain-storm by an inebriated signaller, to Captain Van- 
derby I of the Ninety- Third Field Hospital, given by 
voluntary stibscriptions, of which the larger part remain 
to this day unpaid, so that the hospital is without batid- 
ages, lint, or beds, whom he suspects of being accessory to 
the animal's disappearance?) 

Respected Sir : — 

It is with deep pain that I take my pen in hand 
to trespass on your valuable time, but the impera- 
tive needs of the case must be my justification. 

Twelve happy hours ago I was the proud, and I 
may add, the lawful possessor of a bay mare, off 
fore foot white, white blaze and snip, near hind 
pastern marked by heel rope, unshod in front and 
ear nicked, which I think I left with a man with two 
heads but that may have been on account of the 
sherry and bitters and she was tied up to the railings 
because my boy forgot the blanket and I borrowed 
one from the hospital but anyhow I know that when 
I came out she was a lousy mule and the saddle 

*' Vive la Compagnie " 

cost id I OS. at the Army and Navy Stores and I 
may as well tell you at once if you have tried to dis- 
pose of it that they are marked all over with my 
name and rank. Therefore, Augustus Burstem, 
General of Division presents his compliments to 
Captain Vanderbyl and everybody in the camp 
knows the mule is yours and besides your boy was 
seen grooming her at the back of your tent this 
morning. I want it back by bearer. 
Yours sincerely, 

Augustus Burstem, 

No. II 

{^From a saddle-chafed officer of the Staff with 
Evangelical convictions and a rooted distaste for Scout- 
ing, who has just come off a lO days' march on quarter 
rations and has lost half his transport and 7 men by ad- 
vancing in close order upon the white flag to his General, 
who has a taste for horse-racing and profanity and a 
good seat across country, seventeen and a half hours 
after his return to camp, and seventeen and one quarter 
hours after the General had expressed his [the General's) 
opinion upon his {the Captain's) facial peculiarities, men- 
tal attainments, moral rectitude, birth, parejitage, and 
probable future. ) 

My dear Sir, — 

I have been much perplexed for some days, in 

consequence of a growing conviction — which has 

indeed been deepening for some weeks — that we are 

each of us conscious that we have made a mistake 


War's Brighter Side 

in becoming engaged. I believe you have this con- 
viction, as I am obhged to confess I have. Now it 
is infinitely better that we face it at once. I would 
gladly be convinced that we have not been mistaken ; 
and if I am wrong in believing that this thought has 
been in your mind as well as my own, pray forgive 
me for having misjudged you. How else can I 
account for the depression which seems to rule you 
when in my company, and for the apparent rehef 
which parting seems to bring you? Now, will you 
do yourself and me the justice to ask yourself 
seriously whether or no (I) have at all correctly 
gauged your feelings ? If so, I would wish to release 
you, for your own sake as well as for mine. It 
really seems that we have each discovered that our 
ideals are not to be found in each other. If so we 
shall respect each other none the less in future 
years that we had the courage to confess to each 
other that we have been mistaken. Kindly write 
when you are sure of the answer which you are 

Faithfully yours, 


It is interesting to note that this and the follow- ' 
ing letter are taken literally word for word from a 
well-known " Letter Writer." Thus we see the 
adaptability of these invaluable helps to the epis- 
tolary art. It will not be necessary to suggest the 
original suggested circumstances of this corre- 


"Vive la Compagnie " 

No. Ill 


Dear Walter, — I have taken a few days to sift 
my thoughts on the subject of your last. The con- 
clusion that I have come to is practically the same as 
yours. I have no blame to lay on you ; on the con- 
trary, you have been most kind and considerate 
in all things. No doubt, without intending it, we 
have been both mistaken ; and although we have 
honestly tried to be all to each other, yet that 
mysterious something which is perhaps best ex- 
pressed by the word " affinity " has been lacking. 
So, without in the least losing my respect for you— 
rather it has increased — I accept the proposal con- 
tained in your last, viz., that our engagement should 

Sincerely yours, 

B. I. TuMEN, Genl. 



Who are these hasting with speed o'er the ocean, 

Meeting together in one common cause, 
Proving by deed and a whole-souled devotion, 
Their love for our Flag and contempt for the 
Boers ? 


War's Brighter Side 

These are the oversea sons of one mother, 

Some bred in sunshine and some bred in snow ; 

Meeting together as brother with brother, 

One common kindred 'gainst one common foe. 

Bright sunny land in the far-off Pacific, 
Fit habitation for men such as these. 

Proving their birthright in battle terrific. 
Sons of the Mother though bred overseas. 

Grand snow-clad land on the stormy Atlantic, 
Home of our brothers who fight with us here — 

Proving by deeds most high-souled and romantic 
Their love for their country we all hold so dear. 

This be our comfort and this be our beacon — 
Blood that was shed has but bound us together. 

No power can conquer, no quarrels shall weaken 
The Rose and the Maple, the Wattle and Heather ! 


A certain General has breathed vengeance 
against two of the Editors of The Friend, threat- 
ening to put them in his guard-room if he finds 
them within his lines. They are not afraid of him., 
but prefer to admire him as of old. They scorn his 
threats but will welcome an invitation to lunch. 

* " Ten-a-Penny" was a soldiers' nickname for the Pom- 
pom. "The y Doorknocker " it was christened in the 

Highland Brigade. The word " Pom-pom " came first into 
use immediately after the battle of Modder River. 

'' Vive la Compagnie " 

A linesman describing the arrival of the Guards 
Brigade at Bloemfontein after they had covered 
41 miles in 22 hours : " An' they come in the last 
mile like a lot o' bloomin' Park hacks, steppin' 'igh 
an' dressin' most particular." 

A French waiter at a Parisian cafe recently heard 
the news of Kimberley's relief and observed joy- 
ously : " Bon ! Fashoda finds itself avenged. Be- 
hold, ze English again in the consommee, for ze 
French are in Kimberley ! " 

" Look here ! You get away from this antheap. 
This is my antheap. There are plenty around, and 
you find one for yourself." The hail of Mauser 
bullets from the kopje was pretty heavy, and the 
nearest antheap at least fifty yards away, so the 
other Grahamstown man disputed the uitlander 
theory of his comrade, and insisted on staying. 
" Confound you, get away I tell you, your big feet 
are drawing the fire, if you don't I'll break your 
neck." " You shut up," said the other, " this ant- 
heap is as much mine as yours, besides if you talk 

of breaking necks, well " There appeared to be 

no further conversation, but the officer observed the 
two men suddenly arise and a hot set-to followed. 
The fire was too hot for immediate inquiry, but after 
a prolonged round one man was knocked down, the 
other drew him behind the disputed shelter, and 
resumed patient firing at the enemy. 

Later a request was made for orders regarding 
the possession of antheaps by irregulars. 

War's Brighter Side 

A well-known scout returning from Kimberley 
last week was taken prisoner at Modder River by a 
party of eight Boers. He was sent in charge of two 
burghers to the Boer camp near Brandfort. On the 
way the Boers off-saddled and their horses strayed. 
Leaving their prisoner alone with their guns and 
ammunition, which they had laid down, they went 
after the horses. Here was an excellent opportunity. 
Both Boers were at his mercy, but it looked too 
much like murder, so awaiting their return, the 
scout, who could speak the Taal, appealed to them 
to let him go, telling them that he could easily have 
shot them, but the war was nearly over, and he 
would not take men's lives in that way ; further, that 
it would greatly inconvenience him to be taken 
North, and he might be able to put in a good word 
for them soon, if their farms should be in danger. 
After an hour's palaver they agreed to give him a 
show, and told him he could go. They then escorted 
him to the river and showed him the road to 


This is the story of two men who, unarmed, and 
without a guard brought £25,000 in bullion from 
Capetown to Bloemfontein, through a country still 
seething with dangers of war. The men were L. L. 
Michell, general manager of the Standard Bank of 
South Africa, and W. Munro du Preez, formerly of 
the National Bank of Harrismith, now teller of the 
Standard Bank's new Bloemfontein branch, which 

" Vive la Compagnie " 

opened to-day in the building on Market Square, 
formerly occupied by the Cafe Royal and later by 
the Military Post Office. 

They left Capetown on Thursday a week ago, 
with twelve boxes of specie, each one of which 
weighed eighty pounds. For six days they lived, 
ate, and slept on those boxes. Their only holiday 
was at Naauwpoort, when they paid a high compH- 
ment to six A. and S. Highlanders by putting the 
boxes in their charge and going out to stretch their 
legs. For hundreds of miles the train ran through 
desolate karoo in which a band of train robbers 
would have stood a fair chance of success. At 
Colesberg the twelve heavy boxes were piled out 
again on the platform and into the ladies' waiting- 
room and the weary bankers stretched out on them, 
for the night. 

There was to have been a military guard for the 
gold at Norval's Pont but somehow the guard did 
not connect. The bank men found themselves 
stalled at a broken bridge, with the choice of trust- 
ing their bullion to a thin wire rope slung across 
the broken spans, or putting it on a pont that formed 
a rope ferry across the river. They chose the pont. 

The train from Capetown reached Orange River 
at 2 o'clock on Tuesday afternoon. The train on 
the north side of the river had to wait until 7 o'clock 
for the gold. 

The transfer across the river was the most in- 
teresting part of ,the journey. Messrs. Michell and 
du Preez deny that their interest had anything of 


War's Brighter Side 

anxiety in it. They trusted the twelve sweating 
volunteers who wandered wide from the train to the 
pont with its 960 pounds avoirdupois and 25,000 
pounds sterling. Du Preez walked at the head of 
the volunteers and Michell at the tail. The volun- 
teers seemed to be walking all over the country. 

So the twelve boxes were finally slammed into 
the guard's van on the north side of the river, and 
the bank manager and his teller clambered in on top 
of them. If there was a military guard on the train 
they didn't have the comfort of knowing it. They 
had been told that all the Boers were giving in their 
arms and that the country through which they rode 
was thoroughly pacified, but then, as du Preez said, 
" when you are travelling with twelve boxes of 
bullion you can't be dead sure of anything." 

When the train reached Bloemfontein on 
Wednesday, the boxes were taken at once to the 
vaults of the National Bank of the Orange Free 
State, and the two men, wearied by their six days' 
vigil, went at once to bed, and to sleep. 

Mr. Michell, who manages the Standard Bank 
afifairs in all parts of South Africa, is only tempo- 
rarily in Bloemfontein. Mr. D. Savory, formerly 
of the branch bank at Oudtshoorn, will be manager 
of the Bloemfontein branch. Mr. A. S. D. Robert- 
son, formerly in the branch bank at Ceres, will be 
accountant, and Mr. du Preez will be teller. 



We Leave " The Friend " to See a Fight 

The Thirteenth Number, produced by Mr. James 
Barnes of New York 

The last of the dinner was still in our 
mouths, the last words in answer to the toasts 
had not been spoken five hours when, at day- 
break on the 29th, we were all, except Mr. 
James Barnes, on the way to the battle of the 
Glen (or of Karree Siding, as it is sometimes 
called). Mr. Barnes most kindly remained to 
take entire control of The Friend, which is to 
say that he undertook the work of four men, 
and had as his only assistant a bright young 
American journalist from Philadelphia, Mr. Jo- 
seph W. Jenkins. This young gentleman had 
worked hard and gratuitously for us from the 
first as the gatherer of the news of the little 
capital, and very fertile and versatile he proved. 

Mr. Bennet Burleigh took Mr. Kipling to 
the fight in his Cape-cart, and they started out 

War's Brighter Side 

with more style and comfort than an Oriental 
general swaying on the cushioned howdah of 
his elephant charger. But the course of a day 
in war is as uncertain as that of love or as the 
nature of the white men, and, early in the day, 
the Poet of the Empire was under a hot Mauser 
fire. Far from being nervous or regretting the 
experience, he seemed to feel only the tingle of 
the excitement. If you could get him to refer 
to it you saw that he rejoiced to have felt the 
breath and heard the weird, low song of the 
leaden rain. 

For myself I had such an inglorious esca- 
pade as no man would care to dwell upon who 
was in a war to get the best or the worst, but 
not to be incapacitated by what could have hap- 
pened at home. In a word, I went into a wire 
fence off the back of a frightened racehorse, 
and was obliged to go on to the battle, belated 
and with both fore-arms torn into strips, not to 
speak of injuries which must stay by me as me- 
mentoes of the day so long as I live. 

Mr. Barnes's number of The Friend was a 
good one. His editorial, " As to the Future," 
was very vigorous, and must have pleased Sir 
Alfred Milner, who did us the honour to say 
that he valued the paper as a most efficient arm 
of the effort to pacify and reconcile to their fate 
our neighbours of the Free State. He sug- 

We Leave to See a Fight 

gested to me that we should address ourselves 
more drectly to the Boers, and always with a 
view to impressing them with our magnanimous 
intentions, and the benefits and advantages of 
enlightened British rule. It was his suggestion, 
also, that all articles calculated to encourage 
resignation on their part should be duplicated 
in the Taal language, and this wise plan we be- 
gan at once to endeavour to follow. We suc- 
ceeded but feebly, because we did not know the 
Taal ourselves, and we could not trust the 
majority of the sometimes " sHm " ones among 
the few who were able to perform the work of 
translation creditably. 

In this number of the paper Mr. Barnes pub- 
lished No. 4 of Mr. Kipling's " Fables for the 
Stafif," and the poem by Mr. Kipling on Per- 
cival Landon's birthday. " A Realistic Com- 
edy," by an anonymous writer, the third of Mr. 
Gwynne's articles oh the art of war, and a bit of 
a brief correspondence between the army teleg- 
raphists and Mr. Bennet Burleigh were also in 
this entertaining number. 

Mr. Barnes was exceedingly well liked by all 
who knew him in the army, and was much 
sought as a companion, for his unvarying good 
humour and for such a fund of anecdotes, songs, 
and imitations as was possessed by no one else 
of our acquaintance. I think the best of his 

War's Brighter Side 

anecdotes of his own experiences in the war was 
concerning the Boer losses at Driefontein. The 
British had found more than sixty bodies, and 
knew that fifty other Boers had been killed. 
(I will not say that these are the exact figures, 
but they give a just idea of the actual losses of 
the Boers.) Nevertheless, when Barnes ques- 
tioned a Boer prisoner taken at that battle, the 
man said that his force had suffered a loss of 
only eight killed. 

'' Then who is it that gets killed by our bul- 
lets in all these fights? " Barnes asked. " We 
fight you, and after each battle we see the dead 
being carried off; we find other dead on the 
field, and we see the loose mounds of earth 
under which you have hastily buried others. 
Who are these dead men? " 

" I don't know," said the slim rascal, " our 
commandant said we only had eight men killed 
at Abraham's Kraal (Driefontein)." 

" I understand," said Barnes. " He must 
know how many you lost. But we saw over 
sixty dead bodies where you had been fighting, 
whose bodies do you suppose they were? not 
Boers, of course, but still they belonged to some 
people who had been shot. There seems to be 
in South Africa a mysterious race of people who 
follow you around in this war and persist in get- 
ting in the way of our bullets. I should think 

We Leave to See a Fight 

you would warn them of their danger, or give 
orders for them to stop coming to all the bat- 
tles. They may have wives and children who 
mourn them; at all events, they are not needed 
as filters in all the rivers, or for starting informal 
cemeteries all over the veldt as they have been 
doing ever since the fighting began. I wonder 
what people they are." 

" I don't know. We only lost eight," said 
the Boer. 

" And we buried sixty," said Barnes. 
" Really you ought to find out who these bullet- 
stoppers are, and warn them not to be always 
getting killed by us who have no quarrel with 
them and are only trying to shoot Boers." 

Another of Mr. Barnes's tales is of that 
awful daybreak massacre at Maghersfontein. 
Mr. Barnes was forging ahead to learn what had 
happened when he met three men in kilts dash- 
ing over the veldt, away from the battle. 

** Here," Mr. Barnes cried, " who are you? 
Where are you going? " 

" Oh, mon," said one of the poor unnerved 
chaps, " we are a' that's left o' the Black Watch." 

In defence of themselves against some in- 
convenience of which Mr. Burleigh had com- 
plained, these men of the R.E. Corps declared 
that their staff in Bloemfontein "performed 17 
(seventeen) hours last Sunday in order to re- 

War's Brighter Side 

move pressure produced to a great extent by- 
work other than military. Whilst every other 
arm of the service had been enjoying a brief and 
well-earned rest, our portion has consisted of at 
least twelve hours' hard work at the instrument, 
cooped up in a room reeking with a pestilen- 
tial atmosphere which has, in several cases, pro- 
duced violent vomiting. 

" After all, we can nurse to our breasts the 
satisfaction that our gallant Commander-in- 
Chief has been pleased to specially thank the 
much-despised corps for the indispensable serv- 
ices rendered by it." 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Forces^ 


■J THURSDAY, MARCH 29, I900. LOne Penny. 


By order of his Lordship the Field Marshal 
Commanding-in-Chief the British Forces in South 
Africa, it is notified that Quit Rents on Farms 
should now be paid in to the Receiver at the Land- 
drost's Office. Amounts not paid on or before the 
31st May, 1900, are liable to be doubled. 

James A. Collins, Landdrost. 
Landdrost's Office, Bloemfontein, March 26, 1900. 


We Leave to See a Fight 

IV. — Vain Horses 


A Cavalry-horse of indubitable Valour, carrying 
a complete Wardrobe Office and House-keeping 
Apparatus on his back, met by chance a Boer pony 
of unprepossessing Exterior. 

" My ungroomed Friend," said the Horse, " let 
me draw your attention to my Master's portable 
Bath, Umbrella, Typewriter, Hair Brushes, Dress- 
ing-case, and complete Service of Plate ; also to my 
own spare Shoes and cold Collation for the next 
Week. Few I opine enjoy such luxurious appoint- 

" They are indeed fin de siecle and non-plus-ultra," 
remarked the ewe-necked Son of the Veldt, " but 
You must excuse Me for I see my Master approach- 
ing. He does not use Hair-brushes, and I have 
neither spare shoes nor curry combs." 

" Then I must trouble you to return as my 
Prisoner," said the Horse, 

" On the contrary," replied the Child of the un- 
grassed Kopje, " It is a condition and not a theory 
that confronts us. Let me draw your attention to 
my scintillatery heels." 

So saying the Unkempt Equine departed in a 
neat cloud of Dust, from the Centre of which his 
Master scientifically shot the Cavalry Horse in the 

' Copyrighted, used by the author's permission. 
18 255 

War's Brighter Side 



Tell the smiling Afric morn, 
Let the stony kopje know, 

Landon of the Times was born 
One and thirty years ago. 

Whisper greetings soft and low, 
Pour the whisky, deal the bun. 

Only Bell and Buckle know 
All the evil he has done. 


In accordance with the public notice printed in 
this journal, a meeting of war correspondents was 
held yesterday afternoon at the Free State Hotel, 
Bloemfontein, when the arrangements for a concert 
to be given in the Town Hall " in aid of widows and 
orphans " were discussed. Messrs. Bennet Burleigh 
(Daily Telegraph), Pearce (Daily News), Maxwell 
(Standard), and Haarburgher, were appointed mem- 
bers of the Executive Committee with power to 
add to their number, and it was decided that the 
proceeds of the concert should be divided equally 

' The birthday of Mr. Percival Landon. This poem is 
copyrighted in England and America, and is used here by 
Mr. Kipling's permission. 


We Leave to See a Fight 

between the London and Bloemfontein funds. The 
date, which remains to be fixed, will probably be 
Friday of next week, and the prices of admission 5s., 
3s., and is., the latter for soldiers in uniform. 


I haven't often been really defeated, but I felt 
very like it that Black Monday. 

My convoy consisted of self and Jimmy (my sub- 
altern), two conductors, 100 native drivers, about 
500 oxen, and 40 waggons. We were hundreds of 
miles from the front so had no escort, and were 
fifteen miles from anywhere. The country was sim- 
ply a succession of kopjes as like each other as a 
pair of ammunition boots, the map was much too 
small a scale to be of any use, and our native guide 
had lost the way ! 

We ought to have struck water about dawn, after 
trekking all night, but there wasn't a sign of it. The 
heat was awful as we toiled our dusty way between 
those glaring kopjes, until about noon we sighted 
a stagnant dam, half full, and we went for it like 
savages, men, oxen and all. 

It must have been absolute rank poison. In a 
couple of hours two men were writhing on the 
ground, a score more, blue and shivering-, were 
feeling touched, and the whole lot were thoroughly 
funked. It was just like a native cholera camp in 
India, and to those who have experienced that I 
need say no more. 


War's Brighter Side 

We sent out our most useful men on our best 
horses, to hunt the country, five miles round for a 
farm or well; we started fires to boil water and 
worked our wretched little filters for all they were 
worth. Jimmy and I had a bottle of chlorodyne 
apiece, but they were empty in an hour or so and 
our whisky was finished soon afterward. I had 
meant to trek again as soon as it got dark, but 
before the sun touched the horizon all our scouts 
were back — not a drop of water anywhere! Had 
there been any, I doubt if we could have got to it 
— half our oxen were incapable of moving and the 
blacks were simply off their heads. But I noticed 
that our chlorodyne, either by its own power, or by 
the belief they put in it, had really done good. So I 
made up my mind to a night there and called up 
one of the conductors. — " Take the native guide and 
bring me two of the best horses you can find — ride 
straight on for all you are worth — find a farm — ofifer 
them any sum to send on this note of mine to Viten 
Siding for a doctor and medicines — bring back any 
drugs they've got and brandy or spirits — come back 
as hard as you can." 

Then we settled down to the most ghastly night 
I've ever spent ; we walked the bed cases up and 
down — don't know what good this is but had seen 
it done in India — put on mustard poultices till we 
fairly took the blacks' skins off — and knocked down 
a few who were howling about the camp in sheer 
panic. I don't know what I should have done 
without Jimmy, but even his chafT couldn't keep 


We Leave to See a Fight 

the poor devils amused. About midnight I had a 
bad turn myself and Jimmy put me to bed, but it 
wore off, and I fell into a nightmared slumber. Just 
before dawn I awoke; Jimmy was brewing coffee 
and whistling: " When we are married." 

" How do you feel ? " he said. 

" Perfectly fit again. Any dead ? " 

" Only two, but they were sick before. All the 
lot in blue funks still." 

" Conductor back ? " 

" No." Then we strained our eyes in the direc- 
tion where he had disappeared. 

I remember wondering dreamily why Jimmy 
whistled so damned out of tune, and whether any 
of us would ever get out of this death-trap, when we 
saw a speck far up the road. Jimmy stopped in the 
middle of " Dolly Day Dreams," spilt his coffee, and 
dashed off up the road. 

The conductor had killed his own horse and the 
guide's ; had found a farm ten miles away ; had sent 
on my note but Doctor could not arrive till to- 
morrow ; there were no drugs at the farm, but he'd 
brought us two bottles of Dop ^ and four loaves of 
fresh bread done up in a brown parcel ! 

A crowd of niggers were hovering round as near 
my tent as they dared come, hoping to catch an 
inkling of the news, and I could tell from the tone 
of their low mutterings that they expected nothing 
good. For a moment I was badly defeated. 

Then a Heaven-sent inspiration seized me — 

' Cape Good Hope brandy. 

War's Brighter Side 

" Well, Brown," I said, raising my voice, " So that's 
the chlorodyne is it?" — I seized the big brown- 
paper parcel — " It's five o'clock now ; tell every Jack 
man in camp he's to fall in here sharp at six for a 
dose of chlorodyne." 

The conductor stared at me; I suppose he 
thought I was mad. 

" Don't you hear," I cried ; " go off at once, and 
don't let anybody interrupt us while we have break- 
fast." And I managed to give him the faintest wink 
— in another minute I heard him shouting my order 
through the camp. 

" Jimmy, let's make chlorodyne." Jimmy 
grinned. " Collis Browne's is the best," he said ; 
" twenty drops for an adult." 

Then he started whistling again while we shut 
up the tent and went to work. 

" Small bottles are no use," I said, " must have 
wholesale manufactory; we'll find that demi-john." 

We started with two tins of condensed milk — to 
give it a bit of body — and a tin of Van Houten's 
cocoa made a grand colouring. Two big spoonfuls 
of red pepper, " to ginger it up." " Must mix our 
flavour," said Jimmy, " or they'll recognise the 
brand " — so in went Bengal chutney and straw- 
berry jam. We were rummaging out our grocery 
box — " Sardines ain't much use, nor cheese, nor 
Danish butter ; but here's a bottle of the nastiest 
pickles I ever tasted, let's give them the juice of that ; 
they won't believe it's medicine unless it tastes bad." 

" My tooth powder is nasty enough," said Jim- 


We Leave to See a Fight 

my, " Carbolic something, and warranted to do no 
harm — in it goes." 

The two bottles of Dop were chucked in as a 
finish and the mixture was nasty enough for any- 
body — rich brown, creamy, and fiery hot. 

Jimmy had entered heart and soul into the busi- 
ness—" None's genuine without the label," he cried, 
and rushed at our small stationery box. *' Hullo, 
sealing wax, here, you find a cork and seal it up; 
these cards will do for labels. Some of these nig- 
gers can read and write, so we must play the game 
right through. If they spot us we're done. Now, 
men — Genuine Chlorodyne — for coughs, colds, &c. 
— every three hours till the pain ceases ; to be well 
shaken before taken. And another label — ^To O.C. 
No. 2, General Hospital, Viten Sideing, — On H.M. 
Service — free — franked. Dirty the paper a bit to 
show it's come a long way — then when we throw 
the jar away they'll see it's genuine." 

" They don't have chlorodyne in our hospitals," 
I suggested. 

" Go to blazes ! the niggers aren't cute enough 
for that. But look here, old chap, you look a bit 
cheap ; we'll resurrect you to start with. I'm afraid 
you'll have to take some, but I'll make it as small a 
dose as I can." 

Then I lay down huddled up in a corner. The 
opening tableau was ready, and we rang up the 
curtain, or rather the tent-flap. Jimmy was as 
serious as a judge: "All present, conductor? All 
right; where's that medicine got to? Qh, there; 


War's Brighter Side 

now then, anybody got a corkscrew ? " A hum 
went up from the figures squatting round. Jimmy 
held up his hand : " Quiet there, the captain is very 
bad ; I must see to him first." He Hfted my droop- 
ing head and forced a spoonful of the filth between 
my teeth. 

I heaved a sigh, patted myself below the belt, 
rolled my eyes open, and stood up, fully recovered ! 

Astonishment mingled with applause ! 

We selected a hulking, big brute as the next 
victim. He was palpably shamming; he spluttered 
a bit over his dose, but took the cue from me: 
patted himself, rolled his eyes, and was recovered. 

Genuine plaudits. 

" Next," said Jimmy, It reminded me of the 
brimstone and treacle at Dotheboys Hall. 

Applause gave way to regular hilarity, and the 
blacks were soon ragging each other on the faces 
they made. 

" This is the biggest thing of modern times," 
said Jimmy as the last man went ofif grinning and 
spluttering. " Talk about faith-healing — well, either 
it's an absolute fact, or else we two are the leading 
medical stars of the new century." 

Then Jimmy and I shook hands, and he tried to 
whistle " Dolly Day Dreams " again, but couldn't 
manage it for a minute or two. 

There were a few real bad cases still, but they all 
pulled through. 

Then we served out to the men the best rations 
A*te could raise and a bit of 'baccy apiece. They 


We Leave to See a Fight 

cooked away with a will, filled themselves out with 
breakfast, lay down beneath their waggons, and 
went to sleep. 

Jirrimy and I went to sleep too. At sunset we 
inspanned and made the lo miles to the farm early. 
Our doctor met us there. 

But I shall never hear " Dolly Day Dreams " 
again without thinking of bare veldt, black faces, 
and chlorodyne. 


THE " N.C.O." 

There's some one in the Army that 
I'd like to write about, 
For it's seldom that he gets his 
share of praise, 
He's as gallant as most lions and 
you can always hear him shout, 
Through the rattle of the battle 

When we read in all the papers of 
the Comp'ny officers killed 
We don't stop to think who has 
to take their place ; 
But if we knew, our hearts with 
admiration would be filled 
For the N.C.O. with grim and 
grimy face, 


* War's Brighter Side 

His language on the barrack square, 
ain't quite what it should be, 
And it's probable he likes his 
whack of beer, 
But there's nothing like that voice 
of his, and never yet will be 
To steady the young soldier when 
he's feeling " Bullet-queer." 

He's ahead in all the rushes, he's 
the last one to retire. 
And in battle's got a joke for every 
He doesn't seem to mind a damn, when 
under Mauser fire. 
And he don't forget the wounded 
when the day is fought and won. 

Then, Mr. Rudyard Kipling, here's 
more work for you to do. 
You've sung of gallant " Tommies 
and their deeds. 
Just write about their N.C.O.'s 
and give them all their due. 
For good N.C.O.'s are what the 
Army needs. 


We Leave to See a Fight 



III. — Cavalry 

The " Art of War," which, I must confess, is but 
a feeble equivalent for the art militaire of the French, 
covers strategy and tactics. In discussing the duties 
of any particular arm in warfare it is obvious that 
the discussion must necessarily deal with tactics 
rather than strategy, which, I take it, will not un- 
dergo any great change as long as human nature 
remains subject to its present limitations. But the 
arm which I am now discussing has been and will 
be in the future even more the chief instrument used 
by a general who wishes to carry out big strategic 
movements. Wherefore cavalry must, above all 
things, be mobile, ready to move at the shortest 
moment, prepared in every respect to carry out 
quickly the ideas of the commander. 

The " strategic arm," as the cavalry has been 
styled, has been called upon, during the present 
campaign, to face difficulties which have been almost 
unknown in former campaigns. First and foremost 
it has had to operate against an army of mounted 
infantry, more mobile than itself. Waterless plains, 
heat, and short rations, have been difficulties which 
in Europe would be absent. Foreign criticisms on 
the operations of our cavalry in the present cam- 
paign are based on false premises, inasmuch that 
their authors assume a plentiful supply of water, an 

War's Brighter Side 

equable climate, an easy transport, and a fair amount 
of supplies. They have not taken into account the 
fact that our cavalry have had to cut themselves off 
from all supplies in what, for all practical purposes, 
is a howling desert, for the English horses have 
steadily refused to touch the veldt-grass. If there 
is one criticism on the operations of our cavalry 
which can in any sense be justified, it is that in 
many cases we have made it an objective of our 
movements to charge the enemy. By doing so, we 
have perhaps sacrificed opportunities of outflanking 
the Boers for the illusive chance of proving the 
efficiency of the arme blanche on an enemy, whose 
only weapon is a rifle. I once heard a distinguished 
cavalry officer declare that it was his conviction that 
in a tw6-mile race, starting fair, the Boer, mounted 
on his little African pony, would outpace our troop- 
ers riding a big English horse and carrying an 
equipment which reminded him of the picture of 
Father Christmas. But as over two million people 
have at different times criticised the weight of cav- 
alry equipment, and nobody, except the Boer, has 
given us a remedy, we may leave this portion of our 
subject to lecturer — the U.S. Institute. 

The great question which will have to be an- 
swered in the near future is whether the mounted 
force of an army is to be cavalry or mounted in- 
fantry. To my mind there can be no doubt about 
the answer. The mounted forces of the future will 
be cavalry, and in much greater proportion to in- 
fantry than at present. The great force of mounted 


We Leave to See a Fight 

infantry which we have raised in the present war is 
intended to cope with an army of Mounted Infantry 
opposed to us. Whether they will ever be used 
again is doubtful. But what certainly will be the case 
is that the cavalry of the future will have to know 
how to shoot, and must be provided wath something 
better than a carbine to shoot with. And practically 
they will then be Mounted Infantry with an arme 
blanche. " Shock tactics " will have to give place 
to long-range firing, and the cavalrymen of the 
future will be seen digging and holding trenches, 
holding kopjes, and repelling with rifle fire the ad- 
vance of the enemy's Cavalry. This indeed will be a 



My Horse Offered For Sale 

Kipling at last writes something that pleases the 
Boers — A Predikant's letter 

In the paper of March 30th we offered as 
complete and — you may be sure — as unique a 
newspaper as it was possible to produce. It 
contained the fresh news of the world, and it 
was at the same time full of the atmosphere of 
the army and the battlefield; of the outpourings 
of men who had laid down the sword and rifle to 
take up the pen. I wish I could reproduce the 
entire paper, but after all it was like many that 
followed, and to reproduce them all would make 
a book too cumbrous to handle and too full of 
warlike and military subjects to interest at least 
half of the public. Practically the entire first 
page was given up to proclamations, and looked 
like a miniature hoarding hidden under minia- 
ture posters. These crowded over into two col- 
umns of the second page, which also contained 

Julian Ralph and his horse " Rattlesnake. 

My Horse Offered For Sale 

the still swelling display of advertisements of 
lost horses and horses for sale. Among the lat- 
ter was this — 

First-class Hunter for Sale 

Julian Ralph desires to sell his blooded hunter 
" Rattlesnake," a superb horse with noted pedigree. 
He is in splendid working condition {aside — has 
caused his owner to wear a casing of lint, and to walk 
zvith difficulty on a heavy sticfi). The horse can be 
seen at the Red House behind the Dutch Reformed 

The italics in the above advertisement are 
inserted here, and were not in the newspaper. 
They suggest what novel forms advertisements 
would often take if the advertisers always truth- 
fully explained why they wished to part with 
their property. 

W. A. Roller, the town clerk, notified all 
residents to call upon him and make a true state- 
ment of the bond fides of all their possessions in 
horseflesh. Captain P. Holland-Pryor, A.A.G., 
requested every burgher who had not given up 
any Government horse in his possession to do so 
without delay. Truly, the horse occupied a 
large share of interest and attention — much 
larger now that we were in need of horses than 

War*s Brighter Side 

when they had come in abundance from every 
corner of the earth. 

We pubHshed a remarkable address to the 
Free Staters by the Rev. A. A. Van der Lingen, 
once a candidate for the Presidency. He asked 
them if it was right for them to assail the peace- 
ful territories of the British when thousands of 
their kith and kin are enjoying a full and perfect 
measure of equality and justice. He demanded 
to know " what you think seriously, in your own 
minds, will become of you if you prosecute the 
war and lose." The " old soldiers of Bloem- 
fontein " — it seems there were eight retired 
veterans — cheered the Field-Marshal with an 

Our five-guinea competition for the renam- 
ing of the Colony went on apace, and we re- 
corded a great day of sport among the men of 
the Sixth Division, who enjoyed the band of 
the BulTs and the pipes of the Seaforths, Gor- 
dons, Black Watch, and Argyle and Sutherland 
Highlanders. Major the Honourable Robert 
White directed the sports with greater success 
than had attended anything of the kind among 
our troops on this side of Natal. 

The soldiers still filed into our bare and dirty 
quarters asking for the paper, and one of them 
complained that it was not sent out to his camp, 
and that he had to come in and get it. 

My Horse Offered For Sale 

"Canadian, aren't you? " Mr. Kipling asked, 
'' from out on the wheat belt? " 

" Yes, sir." 

" Why, man, then what are you talking 
about? You'd ride in to Winnipeg, twenty 
miles, to get a paper if you were at home." 

Mr. Kipling on this day wrote a tribute to 
General Joubert, whose death had just been 
made known to us. Hours after he wrote the 
poem, when tired of waiting to see the proof, 
he walked over to the printing-office and set up 
the last line of it at one of the printers' cases. 
What the printers thought of him we never 
knew, but he never forgot that the first bit of 
paper he picked up from the floor of the edi- 
torial room, when he was looking for something 
that had fallen from the table, was a violent 
attack upon himself in a piece of a Free State 

The only bit of all our work that our com- 
positors saved was this poem to Joubert. That 
and a portrait of the late firebrand, Borcken- 
hagen, were the only ornaments they deemed 
worthy to decorate their composing room 

There were at least two English-speaking 
men among them. I grant to them the benefit 
of the doubt whether my reflections should ex- 
tend to them also. 

19 271 

War's Brighter Side 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts^ Forces^ 

vtq j2i BLOEMFONTEIN, T Price 

-■ FRIDAY, MARCH 30, I900. LOne Penny. 


Lord Roberts' Telegram of Sympathy 

His Honmir President Kruger, President of the South 
African Republic, Pretoria. 

(Clear the line.) I have just received the news of 
General Joubert's death, and I desire at once to offer 
my sincere condolence to your Honour and the 
Burghers of the South African Republic on this 
sad event. I would ask you to convey to General 
Joubert's family the expression of my most respect- 
ful sympathy in their sad bereavement, and to assure 
them also from me that all ranks of Her Majesty's 
forces now serving in South Africa share my feeling 
of deep regret at the sudden and untimely end of 
so distinguished a General who devoted his life to 
the service of his country and whose personal gal- 
lantry was only surpassed by his humane conduct 
and chivalrous bearing under all circumstances. — 


My Horse Offered For Sale 

(Died March 2^, 1900) 


With those that bred, with those that loosed the 

He had no part whose hands were clear of gain; 
But, subtle, strong and stubborn, gave his life 

To a lost cause, and knew the gift was vain. 

Later shall rise a People, sane and great, 

Forged in strong fires, by equal war made one — 

Telling old battles over without hate. 

Not least his name shall pass from sire to son. 

He shall not meet the onsweep of our van 

In the doomed city where we close the score ; 

Yet o'er his grave — his grave that holds a Man — 
Our deep-tongued guns shall answer his once 
more ! 



No words of ours are needed to supplement the 
telegram of Lord Roberts and the three stanzas by 
Mr. RuDYARD Kipling, which we print to-day, 
upon the news we have received of General Jou- 

1 Copyrighted in England and America ; used here by 

War's Brighter Side 

bert's death. We feel that we are but giving ex- 
pression to the feeHng of every man in the army of 
occupation in expressing our most sincere regret in 
hearing of the sudden decease of the great leader 
of our enemy. 




A General, having offered libations to Fortuna, 
went out to fight a Battle in the course of which his 
Frontal Attack developed into a Rear Guard action, 
and his left Flank became a Modulus of varying 
Elasticity for several hours, owing to his right Flank 
having wandered towards the Equator. 

The Enemy seeing these Inexplicable Evolu- 
tions, were so overcome with Amazement that They 
retired in large Numbers and left the General a com- 
plete Victory. 

A week later, the General, learning from the 
Reports of his Staff that he was a Heaven-born 
Strategist, diligently read a Book and gave Battle 
upon the lines therein laid down. 

After this he was never seen to smile but fre- 
quently heard to murmur : " If I had only trusted 
my bally Luck instead of a bally Book, I should 
not be now travelling first-class to Stellenbosch," 

Moral. — Invention is a good servant, but the 
Letter killeth. 

^ Copyrighted ; used here by permission. 

My Horse Offered For Sale 


Bloemfontein, March 28th. 
Dear Sir, — In answer to a paragraph appearing 
in your paper of a past date under the heading of 
" Acts of Bravery performed during the War," allow 
me to quote one which I witnessed at Paardeberg 
on the morning of Cronje's surrender on February 
27th. Every one knows of the gallant display made 
by the Royal Canadians on that never-to-be-forgot- 
ten morning, and how, as daylight broke, they had 
again occupied their trenches, leaving sixty killed 
and wounded on the field. As the sun came up 
behind the kopjes, revealing once more to Cronje 
and his men the exact position of our trenches, they 
opened a heavy fire upon them, and woe to the man 
who was indiscreet enough to show his head and 
shoulders over the earthworks! Between the 
trenches and the Boer position lay Canadian dead 
and dying. About 5.30 a wounded man about five 
hundred yards away was seen to be trying to make 
for our trenches under a heavy fire, but was at last 
observed to fall. Now and then, between the vol- 
leys, he was seen to wave his hands as if for assist- 
ance. Suddenly from the left of us a form was seen 
to climb the earthworks in front of our trenches, 
jumping down to make straight for the place where 
the wounded man lay, about ninety yards from the 
Boer trenches. Utterly regardless of the scathing 
fire which hissed about him, he ran on, and at last 
reached the wounded man and tried to lift him, but 


War's Brighter Side 

it was too late, for the poor fellow had breathed his 
last. Seeing it was of no avail, his would-be rescuer 
walked back over the ground he had covered, and 
although bullets whistled around him and tore up 
the ground in every direction, he coolly regained 
his trenches with a pipe stuck between his teeth. I 
have since ascertained his name was Private Thomp- 
son, of the Royal Canadians, and although I do 
not know whether his case is one recommended for 
distinction or not, still I have never during the cam- 
paign seen a case of such coolness and pluck as 
that displayed by Private Thompson, Consider- 
ing the galling fire that swept the distance of four 
or five hundred yards which he covered in his en- 
deavour to reach the wounded man, also his close 
proximity to the Boer trenches, it seems marvellous 
that he ever lived to get within four hundred yards 
of him, not to mention getting back without a 
scratch. His case is one of the most deserving of 
recognition, coming, as it does, from amongst the 
ranks of the gallant Canadian Volunteers, by whose 
side we have fought and marched since we left 
Graspan, and than whom a jollier or pluckier lot 
of boys never lived. 

One of the Gordons who was there. 



See, they come marching over the plain, 
Cheerfully bearing their wounds and pain, 

My Horse Offered For Sale 

Soldiers and sailors alike to the work, 
Never a man of them doing a shirk; 
These are the men that you owe a debt ; 
England, remember it; never forget. 

Scorched and parched 'neath the broiling sun. 
Not a word of complaint, work must be done. 
Wounded and shattered, bespattered with blood, 
Drinking of water akin to mud. 
These are the men you owe a debt ; 
England, remember it ; never forget. 

Ponder it well in your leisured ease. 
These, the soldiers of lands and seas. 
Building the Empire hour by hour, 
These, the foundation of all thy power, 
These are the men whom you owe a debt ; 
Empire, remember ; you dare not forget. 


BY A. E. C. 

The Silent Army 'as its work. 

Duties that it cannot shirk. 

Six days a week ; then there's kirk 

For us in the Silent Army. 
There's guards ter mount, fatigues to do. 
Bread ter make an' meat ter stew. 
If yer think there's time ter write to you, 

Well! strite! yer must be barmy. 

War's Brighter Side 

Yer says yer owns as we can fight, 
Able to read, but not to write ; 
We tries to fly our own kite, 

Us chaps in the Silent Army. 
We're glad enough ter git your print, 
Glad enough when bound with lint, 
Y're dull if yer can't take the 'int ; 

Indeed! yer must be barmy. 

It isn't always that us men 
Finds the time to use a pen, 
For we've work to do, sir, when 

We are in the Silent Army. 
We 'as our duties to attend. 
Food to cook and clothes to mend ; 
Arsk Kiplin', he's the sojers' friend — 

The friend of the Silent Army. 

[The hint has been taken as far as the hospitals 
are concerned. They get The Friend on applica- 
tion. — The Eds.] 


That a soldier's life is a merry one 

Is what some people say. 
But when you're on short rations, 

Well, it isn't half so gay ; 
And you can't " live fat " in Bloemfontein 

Upon a bob a day. 

Grumble No. i. — This is a recognised fact 
with bread at is. per loaf, tea at 6d. per 
cup, and sugar at is. 6d. per lb. 

My Horse Offered For Sale 

If you've had a present sent from home, 

You can take the tip from me, 
It's been " commandeered " by somebody. 

And it's one you'll never see, 
So as each mail arrives you ask, 

" Where can that parcel be ? " 

Grumble No. 2. — Almost every man has a 
complaint to make regarding the non- 
receipt of parcels despatched from home. 

Then when you see the water-cart. 

You rush up for a drink, 
You're going to get a " quencher," 

At least, that's what you think ; 
But it's only there for ornament. 

And you're threatened with the " clink." 

Grumble No. 3. — According to some authori- 
ties, the soldier, like the camel, can go for 
lengthened periods without water. The 
soldier himself thinks otherwise. 

By night we had to stand the cold, 

By day we stood the heat, 
And we got lots of duty, 

But not very much to eat ; 
We had two biscuits daily. 

Some tea ( ?) and half-cooked meat. 

Grumble No. 4. — Some one having said that 
eating was a habit, it was decided that 
several experiments should be tried. The 

War's Brighter Side 

first (half-rations) having proved an un- 
quahfied success, should be followed by 
another of a more exhaustive nature. 
Tommy suggests that this one (no rations 
for a fortnight) should be tried upon the 

We're rugged in appearance, 

Of a tint distinctly brown, 
We're bearded and we're dirty. 

As well as broken down : 
So why the dickens don't they send 

Our kit-bags from Capetown? 

Grumble No. 5. — This is what we would 
like to know. 



Contributions from Kipling 

At this time — on the very night before this, 
if recollection serves me right — I went up to the 
quarters of the Staats Artillerie, and there found 
General Pole-Carew in his headquarters. It 
was always like a breath of new life to see him, 
to hear his vigorous views on the war he be- 
lieved in conducting against the Boers, and to 
note how thoroughly he was the master of all 
the information of value that could be obtained 
wherever he was. 

His headquarters — remember he was the 
dandy of the army as well as one of its shrewdest 
and bravest men — was a bare-walled building 
that a monk would have considered cheerless. 
The dining-room, where his guests were re- 
ceived, was not as attractive as any dining-room 
in any Tommy's barracks at home. It con- 
tained a little table heaped with papers and a 
large table set with kitchen knives and forks, 
enamelled iron mugs, and sparklet bottles by 

War's Brighter Side 

way of combined service and ornament. I 
stayed to dinner of beef and potatoes, bread 
and butter, and whisky and water, and sat next 
to Colonel Crabbe, of the Grenadiers, with his 
arm in a sling from his second wounding in the 
war. A brave and gallant company was there 
— of beau sabreurs and veterans who took life as 
it came and enjoyed its every phase. 

Two titled ladies (Lady Charles Bentinck 
and Lady Edward Cecil) had been the last 
guests of that mess. I wonder what they 
thought when they realised how their idols of 
the Guards were living. And what they would 
have thought had they farther realised that 
these officers were really feeling up to their 
knees in clover, being vastly better off than 
they had been at any time in the previous five 
or six months. When they were enjoying 
the serious phases of campaigning — out on the 
veldt in tents, or oftener still with no shelter 
at all — the ladies would have found them just 
as spirited and gay — except that no ladies could 
ever have found them at all or ventured where 
they were. 

Those men of the Guards have long been 
called the " London Pets " and " stay at 
homes " and " feather-bed soldiers," but they 
very quickly lived down their nicknames in 
South Africa. There nobody petted them; 

Contributions from Kipling 

they had no beds (or even tents) between Mod- 
der of evil memory and Koomati Poort some 
six or seven months distant, in time, nor did 
they manage to get sent home — or want to do 
so, either. Lord! what brave chaps they are! 
and what fighters! I saw them fight at Bel- 
mont, at Modder, and at Maghersfontein, and 
I know. Through all the killing and wounding 
and sickness, the forty-four miles of marching 
in one spell of twenty-two hours, the half- 
rations, the tropic heat and the intense cold, 
the officers were ever jocular and spirited. One 
said to me, as he pointed at Maghersfontein 
Kopje, " Set a brewery up on top of that and 
my regiment will take the place in a romp." 
But the most characteristic anecdote I have to 
tell of one of these West-end London dandies is 
told by himself in a letter he sent to me: " It is 
cold and wet here now. I have got a bad at- 
tack of lumbago, and it took me ten minutes to 
straighten up and get on my feet when I woke 
this morning. I went of¥ on out-post duty, 
and some Boers began sniping at my men until 
we could not put up with it any longer, when I 
gave the order to rush over to where they were 
and do them up. The devils ran away before 
we could kill them. I am sorry you are down 
with that leg. You should be here, enjoying 
all the fun." 


War's Brighter Side 

We published the sixth of Mr. KipHng's 
fables in this number, among scores of articles 
most interesting there and then, but not repeat- 
able to advantage here and now. 


(Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Forces.) 



An Intelligence Officer, meeting a strayed Kaffir 
without visible Means of Subsistence, reprobated 
him for a Spy and Forthwith cast him into Jail, 
where he languished for two Days. 

At the Expiration of his Incarceration the Kaffir 
fell into the hands of a Discerning Colonial who 
filled him with Cape Smoke and engaged him in 
idle Persiflage for three Hours. 

" My Word ! " said the Colonial when the grate- 
ful Son of Ham had departed, " that Ethiop is 
full to the back Teeth of most valuable Informa- 
tion ! Let us give him a new Coat and a Pound of 

" On the Contrary," said the I.O., " He is a 
Wastrel and a Stinker. He cannot reply to Direct 
Questions and habitually contradicts himself." 

' No. 6 of the series. Copyrighted ; used here by per- 


Contributions from Kipling 

" That," said the Discerning Colonial, " is just 
It ! I am about to act upon his Inaccuracies." 

This the Colonial did with great Success, and 
wiped up Seven of the Enemy advancing up a Spruit 
in the Cool of the Evening. 

On reporting his Achievement, the Intelligence 
Officer reported the Colonial for supplying the 
Kaffir with Illicit Liquor. 

Moral. Oh Caesar! 




You cannot argue with a Shell, a Mule or a Press 

The nearer to the Press Censor the further from 

(N.B, — This is generally guaranteed by the Press 

It's a wise Field Marshal that knows his own 

It's a long front that has no turning. 

" A shell in time saves nine," as the 4.7 said when 
it opened on the sniper. 

" Heaven helps those who help themselves," as 

's Horse said when they found the poultry yard. 


War's Brighter Side 

Providence and the Company Officer have a 
great deal to look after. 

Between two rivers, drink Modderietly. 

It's always the next shell that will do the 

Five under cover is fifty in the open. 


When you've tightened up you waistbelt just a pair 
of holes or so, 
When you've tackled your last bit of armoured 
" duff," 
Then you put your bally pipe on, and you pufif and 
spit and blow. 
And you realize half ration ain't enough. 
You go into the market and you purchase lots of 
Off the farmers whom friend Steyn has done a 
scoot from, 
And when you ask the price of it, that's where you 
cop the rub, 
For it takes away your breath just Hke a pom- 

Duke's son, Cook's son, all of 'em want their 
Fifty thousand horse and foot struggling to get 
some grub, 


Contributions from Kipling 

Each of 'em doing his country's work, and each 
being done in turn, 
If you want to buy things in Bloemfontein you 
must pay ! pay ! pay ! 

When they charge a " bob " for hair-cut and a 
tanner for a shave, 
It makes you say things that you didn't ought, 
And the 'umble loaf of " rootey " costs a tanner, or 
a bob, 
Is this the kind of sympathy they're taught ? 
There's a luxury called butter that Tommy likes to 
And he'll have it if he's got the oof, you bet, 
But three bob a bloomin' pound makes a hole in 
Atkins' pay 
'Cos he ain't paid C'lonial wages (not just yet). 

Clerk's son, Grocer's son, son of a Haberdasher, 
All the Gents in Khaki chucking their pelf 
Each of 'em done his country's work, 

It's hard to be done in turn. 
If you want to buy grub in Bloemfontein you've 
to pay ! pay ! pay ! 

When you've tightened up your waistbelt just a pair 
of holes or so. 
When you lay yourself out flat and go to sleep, 
Then you dream of home and mother and some 
glorious feasts to go, 
And you wake up, pray, and find you've done a 

20 287 

War's Brighter Side 

For you've dreamt that bread and butter's gone up 
3d. more in price, 
(These loyal (?) folks charge really what they 
choose, sir) 
Then you say, " Well, roll on, England," where 
there ain't no bloomin' lice. 
And where there's many a cheap and comfy 

Merchant's son, Cook's son, sons of the plebs 
Rushing, in ragged Khaki, anxious to spend 
their brass, 
Each of 'em's done his country's work, but the 
extra bob a day 
Don't go far in Bloemfontein, where you've 
always to pay ! pay ! pay ! 

" Blobswitch." 


BY M. A. P. 

Many stories are being told just now about 
Colonel Baden-Powell, his wide range of general 
knowledge and his fondness for jokes. He has 
travelled a great deal, of course, but his knowledge, 
acquired from reading and conversation, with parts 
of the world in which he has never been, enabled 
him to converse freely with travellers about places 
where they had and he never had been. And thus 
he even often made such people " take a back seat," 
as he used playfully to say. 

Contributions from Kipling 

He was once introduced to an Australian ex- 
plorer who had explored the interior of that con- 
tinent. As he had had a hint from his brother, 
the late Sir George Baden-Powell, the day before, 
" B.-P." spent some hours in the library among the 
books and maps relating to the Australian interior. 
When the explorer was introduced, the latter was 
staggered by " B.-P.'s " salutation, " Burrenyap 
walla-walla " — the ordinary salutation of a tribe 
of blacks up near Charlotte Waters, in the heart of 
the " Never-Never " country. " Burrenyap, Bur- 
renyap ! " shouted the explorer with great delight, 
and the two at once fell into a fervid conversation 
about old times in the " back blocks." 

When the explorer spoke of a hair-breadth 
escape from pursuing blacks, of whom he had to 
shoot six before they would stop, " B.-P." followed 
with an adventure of his own in which he was one 
day surrounded in his tent by an angry, howling 
crowd of natives — thirty-seven all told — who sought 
his blood. He said " Burrenyap " to them, made 
friendly signs about feeding, and offered to make 
bread for them. The blacks are very fond of bread, 
wherefore " B.-P." — as he told the open-mouthed 
explorer — made some at once under their eyes, but 
instead of putting in baking-powder he mixed 
in some strychnine. Result : Thirty-seven black 
corpses in front of the tent that evening, and " B.-P." 
saved by the skin of his teeth ! That explorer is 
still about London buying papers all day long to 
see if there is any fresh news fom Mafcking. He 


War's Brighter Side 

is a great believer in " B.-P.'s " fertility of re- 

On one occasion, however, " B.-P." got out of 
his depth when playing this joke. His brother 
George had asked a well-known author and jour- 
nalist to dinner at the House of Commons and also 
sent for " B.-P." to come and meet him. The au- 
thor in question is a remarkable linguist, especially 
as regards the Pacific, all the many languages of 
which he speaks fluently, from Hawaiian down to 
Maori. He had just written a book about Fiji, so 
" B.-P.," as usual, got himself up in Fiji and Figan 
before the dinner. When they met, the practical 
joker led off at once with the Figan salutation, " Sa 
Yadra, turaga." The much-travelled author re- 
sponded, " Sa Yadra, turaga," without turning a 
hair, and went through the dinner and the evening 
afterwards, letting " B.-P." tell him all about Fiji 
and the people, of cannibalism and all the rest. 

Before parting, he pulled the Captain, as he then 
was, aside and said, " Look, here, sir, you're a man 
of the world, and a good sort, I fancy. You have 
noticed that I have never been in Fiji, although I 
have written that book of personal experiences 
among the natives. Don't give me away, will you ? 
I have to make my living out of this sort of thing, 
and I have an aged father and mother, three maiden 
sisters, and a wife and eight children to keep ! " 
" Right you are, old man," said " B.-P.," " I shall 
never say anything about it." The great fun later 
on was when " B.-P." accidentally found out the 


Contributions from Kipling 

proper pronunciation of " Sa Yadra, turaga," which 
is " Sa Yadra, turanga." The Fiji author had 
spotted the novice at once when he uttered the 
salute, and then " played possum." " B.-P." always 
says that the Polynesian traveller with the numerous 
wives and family to keep was the only man who 
ever really pulled his leg ! 



When the bugle call to battle sounds 

Afar in the land of our birth. 
In the cause of race and Queen to fight, 
We rise from the ends of the earth. 
Wherever the battle may be 
We rally by land and by sea 
To join in the fight of the free. 
And our foemen have Britons to face. 

Chorus : 

Then Britain's sons again 
Fill up the ranks with men, 
Who'll fight ! who'll die ! 

Whose battle-cry : 
" True Britons we remain." 

We are sons of Britain every one 
With pride of the blood of our race, 

And we'll carry Britain's story on 
As our fathers did in their place. • 

War's Brighter Side 

Whatever the work to be done, 
We seek a full share, every one. 
And fighting till victory's won 
Of the burden and glory we claim. 

Chorus : 
Then Britain's sons again, &c. 

The glorious deeds her great have done 

Are ours, whether Saxon or Celt, 
As heirs of their name and fame we come 
From snows and from bush and from veldt. 
Our honour we'll ever keep bright. 
By holding the front of the fight. 
And jealously guarding the right 
For our sons and their sons again. 

Chorus : 
Then Britain's sons again, &c. 


It may interest our friends at the Cape to know 
that a certain doctor, who lives not i,ooo miles from 
the Paarl — and who came on ambulance business 
to the Free State — was very busy on his arrival here, 
giving it out as the news of the day that " officers of 
the English Army were busy with sjamboks driving 
Tommy ofif the boats as Tommy did not want to 
fight." This statement was made in the Bloemfon- 
tein Club before several witnesses and is quite 


Contributions from Kipling 


It was at the battle of Abraham's Kraal. The 
Boers had fled from a position which we now occu- 
pied. They, in their flight, had to cross the open 
veldt to another kopje three-quarters of a mile from 
the first. We fired volley after volley into their 
huddled masses. My old friend standing by me 
noticed a wounded Boer trying to escape. He im- 
mediately dashed out amid a perfect hail of bullets, 
caught the escaping Boer, threw him across his 
shoulders and dashed back to cover, the bullets fall- 
ing all round him. Unscathed himself, his burden 
was shot to death. 

Private A. J. Hard, 

N.S.W. Mounted Infantry, Australia. 

Dear Sir, — The bravest deed I witnessed while 
with the 6th Division was the following : — 

It was at Paardeberg on Sunday, i8th February, 
about 5 p.m. We were watching a hill overlooking 
Osfontein farm-house, when some of the enemy 
were seen to enter the garden surrounding that 
house. So an order was given by Second Lieu- 
tenant Romilly for No. i section of the above- 
named company to advance and try and drive 
them out. We commenced the advance by short 
rushes, meanwhile the enemy sending down a few 
shots. We succeeded in getting to within four 
hundred yards of the house when a perfect hail of 


War's Brighter Side 

bullets came, both from the house and hill. Then 
the order came to retire, as the fire was becoming 
too hot to attempt to get any closer. It was during 
this retirement that what I saw happened. One of 
our men, Pte. Driscoll, was shot in the back, and 
down he fell, badly hurt, when Second Lieutenant 
Romilly, on seeing him fall, at once knelt down and 
dressed his wound, doing it as coolly as if on a 
drawing-room floor. After doing this, with the 
help of Pte. Brown of the same Company, he hur- 
ried the man back to safer quarters, having to go 
a distance of over four hundred yards before being 
out of danger. The bullets fell all around them 
quite thick. How they managed to escape is quite 
marvellous, as several bullets went through their 
clothing, and one, as I heard the officer say, went 
between his lips — a close shave indeed ! 

Whether any recognition will be forthcoming for 
the above gallant deed, I cannot say, as there were 
none of those who occupy higher positions to testify 
as to its correctness ; but the men certainly deserve 
something for so brave a deed. 

I am. Sir, yours faithfully, 
An Eye-Witness. 



Our Loss and the Army's 

The Departure of Mr. Kipling leaving The 
Friend vigorous with the Impetus he gave it 

RuDYARD Kipling left Bloemfontein for 
Capetown on the night of April ist, in the same 
train that bore away Sir Alfred Milner, Colo- 
nel Hanbury Williams, and Colonel Girouard. 
The High Commissioner had been declared to 
be leaving a day or two later, but started at once 
in order to avoid giving the Boers notice to pre- 
pare mischief. 

Of the happy days of boyish delight we edi- 
tors spent with Mr. Kipling many brought inci- 
dents too trifling to be noted here, yet which 
went to fill a heaping loving cup of pleasant 
memories. There was, for instance, the day 
when — as the reader may have perceived — two 
poems bore a note of merely suggested com- 
plaint from the sick in the hospitals. That note 
struck Mr. Kipling's sensibility, and he and Mr. 
Landon and I seized armsful of Friends and set 
out upon a tour of the hospitals — then far too 

War's Brighter Side 

numerous in the public and semi-public buildings 
of the place. Mr. Kipling went ahead and dis- 
tributed the papers, and we followed and whis- 
pered who he was to the sufferers in the cots. 
I never shall forget the look that came in each 
man's eyes, or how every one of them who was 
able raised himself upon an elbow to stare after 
the poet as he passed from room to room. 

" God bless him," they said; " he's the sol- 
dier's friend." 

And surely a blessing proceeded from him, 
in response to that which he received, for, at the 
knowledge of his presence, a new vigour and a 
sense of delight, such as they had almost forgot- 
ten how to feel, came to the sufferers. He had 
nothing of the theatrical about him, made no 
speeches, conversed in hushed tones, halted no- 
where, posed not even to the slightest extent — 
but went on with doctor or nurse through the 
wards, listening and looking. I think that Mr. 
Landon and I were more conscious of the re- 
flection of his fame than was he from whom it 

At one stage of our adventure we deter- 
mined to cross from one hospital to another, 
over some intervening gardens. What an un- 
suspected wildness lay among those walled en- 
closures in the confines of a nation's capital. 
Little hills, little rivers, marshes, precipices, 

Our Loss and the Army's 

walls on the edges of tiny cliffs! It proved a 
better feat for Italian cavalrymen than for a 
stout poet, a man with a game leg and arms in 
lint, and a third one who did not know it, but 
who was already poisoned with fever germs. 
However, we had set it for ourselves to do, and 
we did it — without any more serious mishap 
than a kick in the equatorial region which I be- 
stowed on the poet in dropping over a wall. 

Mr. Kipling had other experiences with hos- 
pitals when we were with him and when he was 
by himself. He was qualified to testify as he 
did before the Commission that looked into 
the manner in which the care of the sick and 
wounded was bestowed. 

While I was in Capetown I heard a story of 
an adventure of his, in which the parts played 
by him and by the hospital people were emi- 
nently characteristic of both. To begin with 
he discovered that there were no bandages in 
a certain hospital! The reader imagines that 
such a state of things must have been most ex- 
traordinary — but it was not. Why should we 
conceal facts or mince words if we are earnestly 
endeavouring to probe our own weaknesses and 
mend our faults? I knew of hospitals without 
cots, without sheets, without pillows, without 
measuring glasses, without thermometers. These 
" hospitals " must have been little more than 

War's Brighter Side 

mere surgeons and staffs, for they applied to the 
Red Cross people for nearly everything — except 
medicines — which is required in the care of the 
sick. Thus Peter was robbed to pay Paul, for 
Tommy's " comforts " were swallowed up in 
getting him his necessaries. This was the case 
in Kimberley after the relief of the town, and it 
was again the case in Bloemfontein, But to re- 
turn to Capetown. There Mr. Kipling discov- 
ered a hospital without bandages, in desperate 
need of bandages, in a city containing stores of 
bandages on sale in many places. 

Mr. Kipling mentioned to an acquaintance 
that he was going to supply that establishment 
with bandages, and this acquaintance, who was 
connected with the Daily Mail's " Absent Mind- 
ed Beggar Fund," at once offered to pay for all 
that Mr. Kipling would buy and take to the 
hospital. A cart was quickly loaded with band- 
ages, and then Mr. Kipling was told that under 
the army rules the hospital authorities could 
not receive supplies from a private individual. 
" Well," said he, " I will dump the packages on 
the pavement before the door, and then tell 
them to come out and clear up the litter. They 
will get them into the building that way with- 
out tearing any red tape, I hope." 

He drove off with the bandages, I am told 
by the gentleman who footed the bill, but how 

Our Loss and the Army's 

the supplies were smuggled in I have never 
heard. I suspect that the rule against receiv- 
ing supplies from civilians got a great many 
wrenches and fractures. But for civilians such 
as at least one Red Cross Commissioner of my 
acquaintance, Heaven only knows what these 
hospitals, that consisted of little else than a 
corps of men, would have been able to do. I 
asked my friend how it could be possible that an 
arm of the Government of Great Britain could 
find itself in such helpless and pitiable plights 
and he replied that red tape was the root of the 
evil. Nobody dared to buy a measuring glass 
or a pillow-case or a cot for fear that his enter- 
prise might bring him a reprimand and his bill 
might be repudiated. The hospitals had made 
demands outmeasuring the supplies, or the sup- 
plies had not come up from the Cape, or to the 
Cape from London. If private generosity was 
not appealed to circumlocution must be resorted 
to by means of requisitions which would be 
slowly forwarded to London and there passed 
upon. By this means the supplies would reach 
the front within three months after the pa- 
tients were dead — provided that all should go 
smoothly with the circumlocution machinery. 

Mind, I know how extraordinary, excessive, 
and sudden were the demands made upon the 
Medical Corps after such a shocking aflfair as 

War's Brighter Side 

the Sunday fight at Paardeberg and during the 
enteric epidemic at Bloemfontein. I am in no 
position to say that any one was blameable or 
that better and ampler means of caring for the 
disabled could have been arranged. But let us 
not deny the facts or try to deceive any one 
with regard to them. That is no way for an 
earnest and ambitious and healthy people to 
meet an unpleasant situation. 

On the contrary, that is the very way to 
make certain of a worse " breakdown " of the 
hospital service in the next war. 


{^Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Forces^ 



Now, this is the cup the White Men drink 

When they go to right a wrong, 
And that is the cup of the old world's hate — 

Cruel and strained and strong. 

' The poem by Rudyard Kipling which we publish in this 
issue was written some time ago to be read at a dinner in 
Canada and then published in the Toronto Globe. It has never 
been read in public, and it has never before been published. 
Like all his poems and writings, it is for all time — as good 
next year as to-day and always excellent in all seasons. It 
is copyrighted in England and America, and used here by Mr. 
Kipling's permission. 


Our Loss and the Army's 

We have drunk that cup — and a bitter, bitter cup — 

And tossed the dregs away, 
But well for the world when the White Men drink 

To the dawn of the White Men's day. 

Now, this is the road that the White Men tread 

When they go to clean a land — 
Iron underfoot and levin overhead 

And the deep on either hand. 
We have trod that road — and a wet and windy road — 

Our chosen star for guide. 
Oh, well for the world when the White Men tread 

Their highway side by side. 

Now, this is the faith that the White Men hold 

When they build their homes afar : — 
" Freedom for ourselves and freedom for our sons 

And, failing freedom. War." 
We have proved our faith — bear witness to our faith, 

Dear souls of freemen slain ! 
Oh, well for the world when the White Men join 

To prove their faith again ! 



Mr. Rudyard Kipling left Bloemfontein for 
Capetown last night to rejoin his family and, pres- 
ently, to sail with them to England. Believing that 
the arrangement of terms of settlement with the 

War's Brighter Side 

people of the Boer Republics will be the next im- 
portant work for the British, he desires to be in Lon- 
don, there to speak and write for such a finish to the 
war as he deems best for Britons and Boers, for 
Africanders, for intending new settlers, for the future 
quiet and prosperity of South Africa, and for the 
honour and glory of the Empire. 

The editors of The Friend bade him God speed 
and knew, when they wished him health, prosperity, 
and a long life, that there is not a man in the British 
Army or man or woman in the Empire in whose 
name they could not have warmly and sincerely 
repeated their own hearts' utterances. 

Mr. Kipling came to the editorial rooms of this 
unique journal with an offer to assist us War Corre- 
spondents who are in charge, but he quickly and 
easily led us in the clearness of his views upon the 
paper's policy, in the wealth of talent he lavished 
upon its columns, and in the enthusiasm with which 
he collaborated with us. He evidently enjoyed this 
brief return to his old profession — as what man 
would not who ever fell under its exciting and fasci- 
nating influence? We do not doubt that he found 
an added and a powerful charm in the peculiar con- 
ditions under which we work — upon a journal 
created by and for a conquering army and published 
in a conquered capital. 

But it is of the pleasure we have known in being 
co-workers with him that we would write if it were 
fit that we should share our emotion with the public. 
Pleasure would be a trifling word to use were we to 


Our Loss and the Army's 

let our emotions flow. Honour and Pride were 
better terms, expressive of our stronger feelings. 

We can congratulate the friends of The Friend 
that they shall read his work again in these columns 
before he sails for home. They have not lost him, 
but we have lost his company, we who knew his 
genius so well yet could not conceive it possible 
that to his talent he joined a personality so rich in 
varied charms as we have found it. For we have 
learned that he is sweet to the core, lovable, mag- 
netic, modest, and sincere. He has the crystal frank- 
ness and the tireless enthusiasm of ever fresh and 
unsullied youth. Great as our readers know him 
to be in literature, we know him to be even greater 
as a man. 

Good luck to RuDYARD Kipling, always, every- 
where, to the end — and, then, to eternity. 



And thou also hast gone over to the majority! 
To God's rest, most honest English gentleman. I 
saw thy bier go by but the other day in the streets 
of Bloemfontein. They gave thee, rightly, a sol- 
dier's funeral, and for love of thee many sorrowed 
and followed afoot to God's acre. Troopers with 
arms reversed were thine escort, our band played 
the " Dead March in Saul," and behind thy coffin, 
covered with the Union Jack and set upon a gun- 

21 303 

War's Brighter Side 

carriage, walked that British Paladin, Field Marshal 
Lord Roberts, accompanied by a long concourse of 
all ranks — comrades of thine, men of distinguished 
service. Veterans and juniors were there, and be- 
sides these, for further token of the affection and 
esteem in which thou wert held by all who knew 
thee, a throng of the rank and file of the army. 

All was as it should be, for we had come to 
say our English " Goodbye ; God be with thee." 
Sprung from the loins of a race of soldiers, thou 
wert all a true soldier should be, tender, brave, and 
true, a gentleman above gentlemen. 

It seems but a breath or so that I was wont to 
meet thee almost daily in London at the War Office. 
Lord Wolseley will miss thee, for he will never find 
a better Military Secretary than thou. Thy courtesy 
was uniform to all, thy frankness beyond question, 
as was thy readiness to do kindnesses ; whilst thy 
fidelity to thy Military Chief was to thee a sacred 

Cheery and pleasant, Gough of the 14th Hussars 
was a " beau sabreur," a man who inspired friend- 
ship and commanded respect. I could recall many 
incidents in all of which thou acquitted thyself like 
a Gough. There was the morning of Abu Klea in 
the Soudan, after the night of alarms that found thy 
fortitude undisturbed. I stood beside thee by the 
screw guns when the Dervish bullet smote thee upon 
the head and thou wert felled to earth as with the 
blow of a hammer. None who saw thee as thou lay 
unconscious doubted but that thou had been killed 


Our Loss and the Army's 

outright. Even when we learned that thou survived 
we held to the conviction that to the weight of such 
a stroke thou must succumb. But thou recovered 
and we rejoiced. Yet such a blow must have left 
its impress. 

None can ever know how in secret thou must 
have stoically suffered, for thy patience was as afore, 
unwearied, thy fondness for work and duty as untir- 
ing, and thy Christian spirit as unbounded. We, thy 
friends, thank thee for thy life of gallant bearing, 
thy sympathies, thy uncomplaining bearing of 

I deplore that I was not permitted to meet thee 
again in thy new office, a member of the Staff here 
in South Africa, serving under the worthiest of 
leaders, the chivalrous Field Marshal, Lord Roberts. 
Thou art in God's hands, most excellent Gough. 
There mayst thou abide. So let it be. 



Not with vain boastfulness, careless, unheeding. 
Left we our homes and prepared for the fray. 

Sadly we answered our wives' gentle pleading, 
Hearing the summons we turned to obey. 

Not for the worth of the Rand's golden treasures, 
Neither dominion, or riches, or power. 

Ever had moved us to leave city pleasures. 
Ever had held us together an hour. 


War's Brighter Side 

'Twas not for this that we turned to assail you, 
'Twas not for this that we entered the strife. 

Loud though your country with tears may bewail 
Can she blame us for this waste of young life ? 

What we have asked of you that we have given. 

Down in the South you may live and be free. 
When we have gained that for which we have 

Then we will come and will share it with thee. 

Freedom you value but hoard as a miser ; 

Freedom we value but offer to all. 
But of the conflict now sadder and wiser, 

Blame you not us, but yourself, for your fall. 


Lord Stanley, Journalist 

*' The Friend " of April 3d began its read- 
ing matter with a leader by the Censor. When 
he came to look over our proofs on that day he 
learned that we had not been able to find time 
to write an editorial. The value of a series of 
leading articles calculated either to inspire the 
army or to pacify or instruct the Boers had been 
newly impressed upon us by Sir Alfred Milner, 
and had, without doubt, been discussed at the 
headquarters of the Field Marshal. 

" I will see if I can write one," said Lord 
Stanley, and, seating himself by the smaller 
table, where pens and paper were at hand, he 
began and finished the editorial here repro- 
duced, without even one of the " false starts " 
which even we who are most practised so often 
make; and, so far as I recollect, without more 
than two or three erasures of words. This gave 
me a new view of the capabilities of our Censor 
— a view in which he appeared more than ever 

War's Brighter Side 

the fittest man in all the army for his exact- 
ing post. 

Perhaps the reader will see at this date and 
stage of the discussion over the lessons of the 
war that the practical, and with him wholly 
original, words spoken by Lord Dundonald in 
London on December 15th, were in some meas- 
ure anticipated by Lord Stanley in this edi- 
torial. Both these noblemen set the same high 
value upon the services of the men of Eng- 
land without regard to class. Lord Dun- 
donald^ said they would fight when called upon, 
but the best of them would not willingly or 
comfortably undergo the exactions of long- 
sustained military discipline. Our Censor was, 
at that time, for making their service an in- 
stantly ready organised source of strength to 
the Empire. 

Though there is little to republish from the 
columns of The Friend of that day, the news- 
paper was a very complete and excellent colla- 
tion of news of South Africa, the war, and the 
world. On this particular day, April 3d, we^ 
published one of Mr. G. W. Steevens's artistic 
letters from the Natal front, taken from the 
Daily Mail; we copied an important article on 
the lessons of the war written by Mr. Amery 
for the Times, and altogether the army found 
the number very readable. 

Lord Stanley, Journalist 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lofd Roberts* Forces^ 



This war, with the opportunity it has offered to 
all branches of the service to see how the military 
machinery works when running at high pressure, 
must teach not only those who are out here super- 
intending and running the machine, but also those 
at home who are paying for its running, many a 
useful lesson. 

That the machine has worked smoothly nobody 
for one minute will assert — but it certainly has run 
sufficiently smoothly to show that, with some altera- 
tion which experience alone could suggest to be 
desirable, our military engine may very easily be 
made as perfect as those of the Continental Powers 
are popularly supposed to be. 

But it is not our intention to show what failings 
have been discovered, and what lessons in manoeu- 
vring — in transport — in equipment — are required to 
be learned. Our object to-day is to congratulate 
ourselves that one lesson at least which had to be 
learned has been partially learned — and that is that 
England must look not to one class or two classes of 
men for her soldiers and sailors, but must be able to 
draw upon all sorts and conditions of men, the rich 


War's Brighter Side 

alike with the poor, when she has to defend her 
honour at home or abroad. 

The first part of the lesson has been learned, and 
men of all ranks in life are vying with each other in 
their desire to serve their country in any capacity, 
however humble. This is good, but the lesson has 
not been entirely taken to heart yet. It will not 
do for England to have to wait for an hour of danger 
before these men come to the front. They must 
always be there at hand when required, and it be- 
hoves the Government at home to so legislate as 
to make permanent in the ranks of our army those 
classes of men who are now in it temporarily. 

Conscription may be a nasty pill for some to 
swallow. But what is in a name? Let us call it 
universal service, and let us ask our fellow country- 
men at home to be prepared to emulate the example 
of those who are on service here and to be ready at 
all times and in all places to guard and defend the 
national flag — the symbol of British prestige and 


Driven from pillar to post. 

Battered with shot and shell. 
Knowing full well his cause was lost, 

When the last of his burghers fell. 
Surrounded on every hand, 

He and his Army lay, 
Determined to make a final stand. 

Like a wounded stag at bay. 

Lord Stanley, Journalist 

When the British guns belched forth, 

The burghers held their breath, 
And down in the trenches deep they hid 

From these Messengers of Death, 
But the British had the range. 

And their lyddite and shrapnel fell 
Into their trenches till they thought 

We'd opened the gates of hell. 

Then Cronje had enough, 

And a message came to say 
That he and his army surrendered, 

And this on Majuba Day ; 
The day that the Boers held 

And rejoiced with might and main. 
The day they laid their arms on the veldt ; 

The day they'll ne'er hold again. 

For Cronje's day is done, 

The despot's rule is o'er, 
Their hell-fire on the Women 

And the red-cross is no more. 
For under escort he jogs along 

With never a word to say ; 
He and his army four thousand strong 

All bound for Table Bay. 


And Cronje can pray as long as he may, 
Till his poor old knees are sore, 


War's Brighter Side 

But it seems Lord Roberts has found the way 

To outwit the wily Boer, 
And St. Helena is his quarters 
Till the Transvaal War is o'er. 

Jas. L. Watson, 

ist Scots Guards. 


Below we give a translation of a Dutch procla- 
mation issued by Sir George Cathcart nearly half 
a century ago. The Capetown Argus says that it 
shows a marked similarity to Lord Roberts' recent 
proclamation explaining the cause of the present 
war, but this we confess we are not so certain of, as 
that the proclamation is of interest in and for itself. 


By His Excellency Lieutenant-General the Hon. 
George Cathcart, Commander-in-Chief of the Col- 
ony of the Cape of Good Hope in South Africa, 
and Territories and Dependencies thereof, and Vice- 
Admiral of the same ; and Her Majesty's High Com- 
missioner for the execution and adjustment of affairs 
of the Territory in South Africa bordering on and 
annexed to the Eastern and Northern Boundaries 
of the said Colony, and Governor of the Orange 
River Territory, &c., &c. 

Be it hereby, made known to all leaders and 
people of all classes and nationalities within Her 
Majesty's borders of the Orange River Territory 


Lord Stanley, Journalist 

that I have come amongst you to offer equal rights 
and justice to all in the name of Her Majesty. I 
have come not to make War, but to settle all dis- 
putes and to establish the blessings of Peace. 

I therefore instruct and command all of you to 
remain quiet, every one of you in your own terri- 
tory, and to await my judgment and decision. 

I have with me a sufficient number of troops of 
the Queen to command obedience, and to punish 
severely and punctually any Leader, Class, or Tribe 
who would dare to resist my lawful authority. 

All loyal subjects of Her Majesty will be pre- 
pared to join me, if I deem it necessary to call upon 
them for co-operation against any stubborn culprits. 


Given under my Hand and Seal, at Graham's 
Town, this 15th day of November, 1852. 
George Cathcart, 

Lieut.-General, Governor. 
By order of His Excellency the Governor, 
Wm. F. Liddle, 




Our Christening Competition 

/ declare the Original War ended and a New One 
begun — Enteric's ravages. 

" The Friend " of April 4th contained a 
column of offers of a new name for the Orange 
Free Stae in response to our promise of a five 
guinea prize to the propounder of the most suit- 
able new title for the country. We published, 
a ballot form for use by our readers in voting for 
whichever five of the proposed names they pre- 
ferred. All our readers were asked to vote, and 
it was to be our part to discover what person was 
the earliest to send in either the five most pop- 
ular names or the greater number of them. This 
gave us such an addition to our labours that I 
suspect we were all as sorry as I know that one of 
us was for having gone into this gift enterprise. 

I was the author of the " leader " of the day 
upon " The End of the War." In this I said 
that the war first planned by the Boers was al- 
ready over and won by the British. That was 
a war of extermination of the British in Natal 

I "AUm b&J roclit 
jkom«D "~on itttit of] 



T« Iht Bir(livs of tilt OrtDge Fret Siiit. 

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Ad de Borten tib dt Onaje Vril Sliil 

ijalt m •oU* Aht Haw HcJmMX* 0«THM«tai fi 
w 4m (Ksaj. Vnj .StaM arhuldif I 

lM«hf«Mf4^ lijuMjU >■»! .HI, I 


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Uo^. Md Ik. Colo*; ■< Httml. tImU b« dolj oWfrd. 

Proclamatic . 

W^a-n Kjilg p«w.«^ ^■ttickil r .W f'V ii i - *) !. «« ill 

Mhnft t* itara, « >r*r w' M m-JM koaMk-wtmn. *' 

Proclamation . 

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J. LEVIN & Co. 


148, Market Streat, 


Still on l)«nd Larpe nod Vuriei Slock 
of Soft fiooils, Hoola. Sc . tc 



For Goul, Diakcies. and Innary Orjiis. 


Priilcn, Fiblikhen. It., kt . 

MailUnd SirMi, Bloemfontem. OKS 




Our Christening Competition 

and the Cape, which two colonies were to be the 
scene of the fighting, and to be captured by the 
Dutch. It was to be fought out on British 
soil to the damage of British property and the 
slaughter of such British as did not flee from 
their homes. That war ended quickly in a 
complete failure. " Now," I continued, " an- 
other struggle is going on to settle whether the 
two races are to live in peace together, whether 
the Boers are to continue to obstruct modern 
progress, and whether white men who live in 
South Africa are to enjoy white men's rights 
and white men's liberty." 

We published an interesting review of the 
life of the late Sir Donald Stewart, who had just 
died in England. 

Mr. Landon wrote an editorial requesting the 
editors of the mischievous Capetown organ of the 
Bond, 0ns Land, not to send their wretched 
paper to our office, and he added that if we could 
have our way no such publication would exist. 

Mr. Gwynne was the author of the witty 
paragraph on " How History is Made." 

Enteric, the ravages of which were assuming 
extraordinary proportions, now began to exact 
attention from our contributors. One of these 
wrote recommending the transfer of enteric 
patients to a building put up as a retreat 
for lepers six miles away, at Sydenham. He 

War's Brighter Side 

argued that it was " not fair " to mass the fever 
patients in the buildings of Bloemfontein. I 
cannot have seen this article at the time, or it 
would have been either left out or answered by 
me with the indignant retort that the " unfair- 
ness," to use too mild a term, was in allowing 
those of us who were well and strong to remain 
in the hotels, all of which, together with as 
many dwellings as were needed, should have 
been turned into hospitals. To leave the fever- 
stricken men out in rain-soaked tents set up on 
muddy ground, where the most ordinary de- 
mands of nature had to be met at a risk of death 
— that was the course that was " not fair," in 
my way of thinking. I would have had the sick 
soldiers and the far too vigorous pro-Boers of 
Bloemfontein change places, putting our ene- 
mies in the tents, if I could have had the order- 
ing of afifairs. 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Robei-ts* Forces^ 


JNU. lo.j WEDNESDAY, APRIL 4, 1900, LOne Penny. 



There is a great want of bedsteads for the use of 
the sick and wounded in the various hospitals here. 

Our Christening Competition 

An appeal is hereby made to the charity of the 
general public. All who can possibly spare any 
single bedsteads with mattresses and pillows com- 
plete, are earnestly requested to communicate with 
Colonel Stevenson, Principal Medical Officer, Mait- 
land Street, who will arrange to receive them. 
Labels, with name and address of owner, should be 
affixed to each bedstead lent, so as to ensure its 
return when no longer required. 

G. T. Pretyman, 

Military Governor. 
April 3rd. 


Whereas : it is deemed expedient and necessary 
for the welfare of the Orange Free State that the 
Railway Service shall be resumed in the aforesaid 
Republic as far as circumstances permit. 


I, Frederick Sleigh Baron Roberts of 
Khandahar, K.P., G.C.B., G.C.S.L, G.C.LE., V.C, 
Field Marshal and Commanding-in-Chief of the 
British forces in South Africa, do hereby appoint 
Lieutenant Colonel Edouard Percy Cranwill Gi- 
rouard, D.S.O., Director of Railways, South African 
Field Force, Administrator of the State Railways in 
such portions of the Orange Free State as have 
been or may hereafter be occupied by British 
Troops. And I do hereby order that the Railway 
and Railway Telegraph Services shall be resumed 


War's Brighter Side 

in the portions of the aforesaid Republic already 
referred to, from the nineteenth day of March, 1900, 
under the existing Laws and Conventions of the 
Orange Free State, subject to such alterations as 
may from time to time be notified, and to the re- 
quirements of the army. 

Given under my hand at Bloemfontein, this 
Thirtieth Day of March, 1900. 


Roberts, Field-Marshal, 
Commanding-in-Chief British Forces 
in South Africa. 



Bloemfontein, Thursday, received Friday. 

Kruger is reported to have proclaimed the an- 
nexation of the Free State to the Transvaal. 

It is also reported that he is circulating a procla- 
mation that England is in dire straits, the Russians 
have occupied London and proclaimed it Russian 
territory (Renter). 

It is painful to think that Lord Roberts is totally 
unaware that he is fighting for a country that has 
ceased to exist, that St. Paul's is now a Greek 
Chapel, that the Thames is called the Temsky River, 
that our beloved Queen is a prisoner at Moscow, 
and that Lord Salisbury is already trudging on the 

Our Christening Competition 

weary snow-bound way to the mines at Kara, in 

Why do you laugh ? 

To us it seems awful ! 


After three weeks spent in " bluffing " the Coles- 
berg Boers, by holding various kopjes with a half 
company at the bottom, I found myself one fine 
February morning seized with a sudden attack of 
'* Mauseritis," and so forced to watch the rest of a 
disastrous rear-guard action without taking part 
in it. 

My company and one other, having spent a very 
cold night on a kopje N.W. of Rensburg, came 
down at 5 a.m. to find our other companies " not 
lost but gone before " to Arundel, and a sudden and 
unexpected Boer cross-fire brought on the aforesaid 
" attack." from 6 to 8 I lay watching little pufTs 
of dust in the immediate vicinity, caused by our 
men returning the fire, as a lot of the Boers had 
followed us up and were lying down about 300 
yards from me. 

At 8 our fire stopped, and up galloped batches of 
the ragged ruffians, the first two pointing Mausers at 
me and asking, " Rooinek wounded ? " My answer, 
" Yes," seemed to relieve them, and they jumped off 
their horses, and quickly relieving me of carbine 
and belt (the only things they took) galloped on. 
22 319 

War's Brighter Side 

At intervals of ten minutes all sorts and conditions 
followed them with, *' Good morning, old chap," 
and they seemed very sorry at seeing me wounded. 
At lO, four of them, under the guidance of a com- 
mandant, carried me in a bit of sacking a mile to 
Rensburg Station, to the " Station Commandant's " 
Room, and I spent a happy day till 5 p.m. with 1 1 of 
our men, all air prevented from coming in by our 
inquisitive friends, the enemy, who '" held " both 
doors and windows with great success, making the 
place a regular Black Hole. 

They seemed quite happy, just standing still, 
staring at us, and never uttering a syllable, though 
they would do anything we asked. At last, after 
hours of waiting, they moved us to a coachhouse 
close by and " dressed " us. We stayed there till 
5 the next day, and had many interesting talks with 
them. One old man gave us a blessing, with " I 
wish Chamberlain was here to see you now." Their 
sole idea was that Jos. C. and Rhodes were entirely 
responsible for the war. Many such questions as 
"Were you compelled to fight?" &c., were asked 
you, and a small box of " sparklets " cartridges was 
a source of much wonder. My next move was to an 
empty store in Colesberg, where Hofman (of the 
Cape Parliament) had a Russian-German and Dutch 
Ambulance combined (one of his men had been 
fighting against us and now, covered with Red 
Crosses, helped to carry us about). I stayed there 
a week, having devoured more figs and grapes than 
ever before. 


Our Christening Competition 

All the English ladies and the Dutch Minister 
in particular brought us fruit, and I should like 
to thank them personally. Only the Dutch people 
were allowed in to see us, and were very keen on 
getting our buttons and badges as keepsakes. 

They turned us out of the field hospital one night 
at 9, and we were jolted along in buck-waggons 
till 5 the next morning, then a halt of 5 hours, and 
at last we got to Norval's Pont at 5 p.m., after the 
worst journey I ever hope to have. It was quite a 
treat seeing trees again, as some of the country we 
passed through was really pretty. Our ambulance 
train consisted of layers of stretchers, one above the 
other, on a large " bogey " truck. At Springfontein, 
we were entrusted to a German ambulance, from 
Hamburg, covered with crosses, doctors, nurses and 
patient helps, but they were very kind to us. 

We got news daily from the station telegraphist, 
Mr. Fryer, and Mr. Shipp, also employed on the 
station, till the escape from Pretoria put an end to 
our visitors. The hospital was half full of Boers, 
and they seemed perfectly happy sitting still the 
whole day long doing nothing, but smoking hard. 
Two engines were always left ready for emergency, 
the line being 100 yards away, so sleep at night was 
a matter of difficulty. Just when I was hoping we 
should be relieved, they moved us under the safe 
keeping of a Bloemfontein policeman in a gorgeous 
blue uniform to the Volks Hospital here, passing 
through hundreds of sleeping burghers in the 
station. Here we languished in the utmost com- 


War's Brighter Side 

fort, till the famous Tuesday when little black specks 
on the veldt and the arrival here of " Bobs " made 
our scarce-believing eyes quite certain that we were 
no longer Boer prisoners. 




No disease causes such havoc in modern cam- 
paigns as typhoid or enteric fever, and it becomes 
the duty of every one having authority to impress 
this fact upon the men committed to their charge. 
More especially is this duty imperative when troops 
are on the march, for many a valuable life is thrown 
away by the want of the strong hand of a wise dis- 
cipline. When thirsty, men will drink anything, 
and it is here that good may be done. It is reported 
that one regiment on the march recently made the 
use of water-bottles a matter of drill, the word of 
command being given every hour for a mouthful of 
water to be drunk. As a result, men arrived in many 
cases at their bivouac with some water still left from 
their morning supply, without being one whit more 
thirsty than their neighbours. 

Typhoid in the vast majority of cases is water- 
borne, and hence the greatest care should be taken 
to avoid any dubious pan or pool. The only real 
preventative of this disease is to boil all water used, 
and although this may be impracticable on service, 
surely discipline will prevent the drinking of doubt- 


Our Christening Competition 

ful water. No medical observer can help wondering 
why more men were not inoculated on their way 
out from home. The inoculation does no harm, its 
pain is a small matter, and its utility in modifying 
the severity of the disease is now well established. 
Take a case in point: two officers in the same 
regiment, one aged 31 and the other 24, contracted 
the disease on the same day from the same source. 
On the usual lines, the younger man should have 
had the worst attack, and yet, although physically 
the weaker, he recovered and his senior died. The 
younger man had been inoculated but the other had 
not ! Some will say that it was the senior's kismet, 
but let that pass. The campaign is now well begun, 
and it is not too late even now to furnish supplies 
of lymph to Medical Officers for use with their units. 
The disease now so rife is marked by an absence 
of abdominal symptoms and may, in its early stage, 
be overlooked. It is during this period of uncer- 
tainty that harm may be done by a solid diet and it 
is safer by far for any one suspecting himself to be 
suffering from influenza or other vague disease to 
restrict himself for a few days to a milk diet. Then 
if the febrile condition passes oflf, no harm is done, 
but it is to be feared that few will take this amount 
of trouble over themselves. 



Fooled by the Boers 

British Leniency and Credulity abused Past 

For several days The Friend has been 
publishing this short but imperative announce- 
ment : — 


From to-day (inclusive) all civilians must be in 
their homes after 8 p.m., unless provided with a 
Special Pass allowing them to be out. 

The Police have orders to arrest all persons 
breaking this rule. 

N.B. — This does not refer to civilians who are in 
the employ of the British Government, who will 
have a pass to this eflfect. By order, 

B. Burnett-Hitchcock, Lieutenant, 
Asst. Provost Marshal to Military Governor. 
Government Buildings, April ist, 1900. 

This notice was but one of many of the signs 
we gave forth that we were being fooled by the 

Fooled by the Boers 

tricky Boers, and that at last we were com- 
pelled to admit it. Far back at De Aar I had 
seen how constitutionally unsuspicious was the 
average army officer, how certain he felt that, 
because he would not himself stoop to decep- 
tion and treachery, no one else could miss the 
ennobling contagion of his example; how set 
he was upon carrying leniency and magnanimity 
to unheard of lengths, even with this enemy 
which neither deserved nor could appreciate 
such treatment. 

Even in the days at De Aar the Boer spies 
were thick among us, pretending to have horses 
or forage for sale, but in reality watching us, 
and making daily reports to the enemy. Even 
then I begged my friends among the officers to 
observe what was going on, and to take steps to 
keep all Dutch-speaking people out of our slen- 
derly guarded great storage camp of supplies. 
But the typical officer said then, as he said after- 
wards for months, " Oh, there's nothing to 
worry about. These people are our friends." 
And the occasional wide-awake non-typical offi- 
cer ground his teeth and whispered, " Lord! 
Lord! how we are being played with! They 
know everything about us at every hour, in 
every move — and we not only know nothing of 
them, but are being fed up with lies." 

Far from merely keeping the Dutch out of 

War's Brighter Side 

our camps, we engaged the people of the coun- 
try as transport drivers and waggon hands, and 
even— it used to be said — let them find their 
way into our corps of scouts and regimental 
guides. We demanded that they should know 
the Taal lingo and the country, and the result 
was that when we marched into a Boer village 
or hamlet we saw our own people hobnobbing 
with the residents, and asking, " Where's Piet? 
How's Billy? How have all of you been get- 
ting on? " — hail-fellow-well-met with these al- 
leged " loyalists," the most tricky, shuffling, 
double-eyed, fence-straddling wretches I have 
ever met in any of my travels. On and on we 
went, never knowing anything of the Boers, and 
the Boers always thoroughly informed about us. 
Everywhere the slimy, slippery ranchers and 
tavern-keepers and merchants welcomed us 
with the heartiest speech, and always were we 
fooled by it. They had been born in the coun- 
try, half the people or more in all that great 
region were out "on commando," no man except 
a pro-Boer or a born Boer could have been 
where we found these double-faced people, with 
their Judas-like pretence of friendship. It was 
self-evident that they must have been siding 
with our enemies. Had they been for us when 
our backs were turned, the Boers would have 
offered them a choice between joining their 

Fooled by the Boers 

fighting forces or losing their property and their 
right to stay in the land. Capetown, Durban, 
and Port Elizabeth were crowded by the refu- 
gees who had taken an honest stand for the 
British side, and had been obliged to leave their 
homes. Nothing of this needed telling; it was 
indisputable, it was logical, it was common 

At last we came to fighting battles that 
were surprises — to meeting Boer forces where 
we were told there were no Boers. When, at 
Modder River, Mr. Knox, of Renter's, and I saw 
a large force of Boers ahead, and rode back to 
tell our friends in the army what we had seen, 
we were informed that what we announced was 
ridiculous. There were only " three hundred 
Boers within a dozen miles," and these would be 
quickly dislodged by our Ninth Lancers. We 
were to meet the Boers at Spytfontein, miles and 
miles a-head. Nevertheless, in fifteen minutes 
we began one of the chief battles of the war, 
against the largest force that had up to that time 
opposed our army. 

The next day saw us in the village of Modder 
River, welcomed by the men of the place, whose 
shops and taverns had been preserved in the very 
midst of the Boer army by — by what shall we 
say? It must have been either by the force of 
comradeship with the Boers or by miraculous 

War's Brighter Side 

and Divine intervention; one or the other, for 
there is no explanation of the phenomenon out- 
side of these two alternatives. Did a single man 
from that village manage to cross the drift and 
warn us that six miles of trenches were ready to 
be filled by Boers when we should reach there? 
And why did no single individual among all these 
" friends " do us that service? Our guides and 
others rode far forward, and were gone for hours. 
What did they see or find, and why did they not 
discover the facts? 

We were fooled! fooled!! fooled!!! 

Without martial law in force behind us, as it 
should have been in force from Capetown to 
Kimberley, at the very beginning of the war, 
without maps of the country, surrounded by ma- 
lignant enemies, who were the more dangerous 
in that they declared themselves friends. Know- 
ing nothing, but betrayed in everything we 
stumbled on — into Modder battle, up against 
Maghersfontein Kopje — fooled and tricked and 
played with for months on end. 

We caught one of two men who fired at us 
from beneath the white flag. The other one our 
soldiers killed, but the one we caught — what of 
him? The quicker he was hanged and left hang- 
ing on top of a high kopje the sooner would have 
ended the contempt of the Boers for our meth- 
ods, and the sooner would have come the end of 

Fooled by the Boers 

the war. But I never was able to learn that he 
was treated otherwise than were the rest of our 

When we came to a village like Modder 
River, where the Boers had been entertained and 
assisted in bridge-destroying and trench-dig- 
ging, did we reconcentrado the little population? 
What a lesson to the disloyal, what a strength to 
our arms that would have been! We did 
nothing; we left them in their homes; we found 
them with Boer warrants for pay for forage on 
their persons; we saw them slipping to and from 
our camp at night, while by day they loitered 
around our headquarters and told us how loyal 
they were. Fooled were we — to the brim, up to 
our eyes, past all understanding. 

Lord Roberts came, and the Boers tried the 
same old tricks. It is true that he maintained 
the same mistaken course of leniency — making 
war as light as possible for the Boers while they 
heaped its terrors upon us — but this mischiev- 
ous, war-prolonging policy was so unvarying 
from Capetown to Bloemfontein that I always 
suspected it to have been ordered from home — 
perhaps by whoever it was that " preferred un- 
mounted men " to catch the De Wets of the 
veldt. I cannot believe that Lord Roberts 
fought England's enemies in India in that way, 
or that he is blamable for that policy in South 

War's Brighter Side 

Africa. He was fooled, however, but not as 
others had been, nor did he evince the same fond- 
ness for being victimised as did certain of his 
subordinates. From the outset he took all ordi- 
nary precautions against treachery and double- 
dealing, and he was the first general to insist that 
the coloured native (very often a Boer spy) 
should be kept under supervision and should be 
at least as orderly, civil, and well behaved as 
white men were required to be. 

It was while we were at Bloemfontein that 
the Boers presumed too much upon our credu- 
lity and trustfulness at last. They did this by 
the most barefaced and wholesale act of hoaxing 
ever practised upon a modern army. We sent 
out our forces, small and large, over the whole 
southern half of the Free State, distributing 
Lord Roberts' promise of protection to all who 
surrendered their arms and signed an agreement 
to fight us no more. Gaily and trustingly our 
troops went here and there, and everywhere the 
people came out to meet them in apparently the 
same cordial spirit of goodwill. As they handed 
in their grandfathers' old elephant rifles and 
whatever other fire-arm curios had been thrown 
aside in their mud-houses, they assured us that 
they were sick of the war, that they had been 
tricked by Steyn, that they had only fought to 
prevent the Transvaalers from confiscating their 

Fooled by the Boers 

cattle and perhaps to save themselves from being 
murdered. It was a beautiful spectacle of erring 
brotherhood repentant — for those who enjoy be- 
ing played upon and laughed at. 

Even while the old junk was being brought 
to the railway we began to hear that wherever, 
in isolated cases, a man had honestly given up 
his Mauser and signed the British papers he was 
being plundered and persecuted by his neigh- 
bours, most of whom were still either fight- 
ing or awaiting orders to resume hostiHties. 
My printers told me of friends whom they 
believed to have been shot for failing to take 
part in the hoax, and for seriously giving up 
the contest. 

And at Ladybrand the " friendly " and " re- 
pentant " Boers, who had been giving tea and 
entertainment to General Broadwood to hold his 
force until the enemy could capture it, fired on 
him from the very houses in which he had been 
drinking tea, when he got wind of the trap and 
slipped away. — to Sauna's Post. 

The air began to fill with rumours of murder 
and pillage, the veldt again resounded with the 
hoof-beats of fighting commandos. We had the 
affairs at Reddersburg, Wepener, Karree Siding, 
Sauna's Post. We found that we were brushing 
our coatsleeves against those of active enemies 
in Bloemfontein — men who were apprising the 

War's Brighter Side 

enemy of our army movements and plans, who 
were even said to be slipping out at night, armed 
sometimes with messages and sometimes with 

Thus the Boer cunning over-reached itself. 
It was the biggest hoax, the climax of the long 
course of hoaxing. It was the first time it had 
been practised upon Lord Roberts, but I also 
believe it was the last time as well. 

This was the meaning of the notices that 
now began to appear in different forms in The 
Friend: that the Army was to be fooled no 
longer by mere lies and Iscariot handshakings. 
This was the purport of Lieutenant Burnett- 
Hitchcock's command that we should all carry 
passes; of Town Clerk Roller's order for all the 
Free Staters to give an account of their horses 
with proofs of ownership; of General Kelly's 
command that all troops " when out in posi- 
tions " (around the town and elsewhere) " should 
invariably entrench themselves . . . being care- 
ful that their flanks are secure "; of Lord Rob- 
erts's warning that our " friends " and others 
were to be held responsible in their persons and 
property for all wanton destruction of or damage 
to public or private property, which meant rail- 
way-wrecking principally. 

The Army at last was tired of being 


Fooled by the Boers 

The editorial of the day was conceived in the 
same spirit of resistance to a farther continuance 
of the experiences of the Army in the past. It 
was headed " British Leniency," and was, I am 
almost certain, written by Mr. Gwynne under 
" inspiration." 

What about British leniency and long-suffer- 
ing? (the writer asked). Let it be remembered we 
are still an army on active service fighting a vigor- 
ous enemy. There are people to whom British 
magnanimity has always and will always spell weak- 
ness. We cordially welcome and will gladly receive 
our new fellow-subjects. We shall not make our 
welcome depend upon whether they fought against 
us or not. Those who stood in the enemy's trenches 
and fought bravely for what they considered to 
be their liberty will soon be convinced that their 
struggle was prompted by men who knew not lib- 
erty, and that Great Britain will extend to them a 
degree of freedom which they never knew before. 
But — and let us here emphasize the " but " — we will 
have no half measures. We do not ask the newly- 
conquered Free Staters to take up arms against their 
kinsmen now lighting against us, but we do ask and 
shall maintain, with sternness, if necessary, a strict 
and rigid neutrality on the part of those who have 
promised it by oath. Let all take to heart this de- 
cision, that while Great Britain will remorselessly 
punish all and any who interfere with those who 
claim her protection, so will she as sternly and 


War's Brighter Side 

severely bring heavy punishment on those who mis- 
use her tolerance and leniency. 

The great extent of country through which the 
British army has to operate has made difficult to 
afford that adequate protection to those who have 
laid down their arms, convinced that they were risk- 
ing their lives uselessly. In some cases these men 
have been molested and ill-treated by the enemy. 
Full punishment will be meted out to those who 
have been guilty of such acts. We have shown an 
example of leniency and tolerance towards rebels, 
taken with arms in their hand, which we did expect 
would have been followed by those who direct the 
affairs of our enemies, and we shall exact of the 
two Presidents a full and complete reparation for 
acts of cruelty and inhumanity committed by those 
under their control. 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts^ Forces!) 

No 17 1 BLOEMFONTEIN, r Price 

' ''^ THURSDAY, APRIL 5, 1900. LOne Penny. 


The following Military Officers are hereby ap- 
pointed Justices of the Peace for the District of 
Bloemfontein during pleasure : — 

Major-General G. T, Pretyman, C.B,, Military 


Fooled by the Boers 

Lieutenant-Colonel C. V. F. Towxshend, C.B., 
D.S.O., Assistant to Military Governor. 

Lieutenant-Colonel B. E. B. Lord Castletown, 
Special Service Officer. 

Major R, M. Poore, Provost Marshal. 

Captain W. A, J. O'Meara, Chief Intelligence 

Captain P. Holland-Pryor, D.A.A., General. 

Given under my hand at Bloemfontein, this 
Fourth Day of April, 1900. 


Roberts, Field Marshal, 
Commanding-in-Chief British Forces 

in South Africa. 



Far in a land so distant, 

Out on the battle-field, 
Raising the lance or carbine, 

Or a sharp-edged sword they wield. 
There lie the British Soldiers, 

Fighting for home and Queen, 
Marching by day, and by night as well, 

Hard times are often seen. 

Weary they tramp for their Country, 

Marching when only half fed ; 
He'll rest where he can when they're halted, 

Without sheet or blanket or bed. 

23 335 

War's Brighter Side 

Dreams of sweet home and of childhood 
Will pass through his weary brain, 

Restless he'll lie till morning, 

Then he'll move on the march again. 

But what of his wife and baby. 

That he's left far behind at home? 
Where is their love's protection? 

Where is his heart to roam ? 
Urged on by a stern Commander, 

Pushed by a Sergeant there. 
Bullied by bits of Lance Corporals, 

No wonder the poor soldiers swear. 

Now then he's fighting like blazes. 

The artillery guns loudly boom. 
His rifle comes up to his shoulder. 

And another brave Boer meets his doom. 
Crack ! crack ! 'tis the brave soldier's music, 

His spirits rise up — he can feel. 
It's this music that raises his spirits. 

And makes them as fearless as steel. 

He is fighting for Queen and for country, 

For his dear little baby and wife. 
He knows that the foe must be beaten 

And for this end he'll risk his dear life. 
At last the day's fighting is over, 

The wounded and the dead lie around. 
All now is quiet and peaceful, 

From the guns we can hear not a sound. 

Fooled by the Boers 

But his poor wounded comrades lie moaning, 

And gasping for life's loving breath, 
But the great God of Love calls their spirits. 

And they're clasped in the cold arms of death. 
All things seem so strange and so dreary. 

As sadly he gazes around. 
He heaves a deep sigh and a tear dims his eye. 

As he lies on the cold sodden ground. 


But still we are here, what is left of us, 

Noble and brave to be seen, 
We've proved ourselves brave British soldiers. 

And willing to die for our Queen. 


To the Editors of The Friend. — Sirs, — Is it true 
that a certain cavalry general, on finding good grass 
for his horses for the first time at Koodoesrand, 
exclaimed, " By Jove, this will supply a long-veldt 
want " ? 

That, to remind the burghers of the disgrace of 
Bloemfontein's fall into British hands. President 
Kruger has changed the name of the Transvaal 
capital to " Oomfontein " ? 

That the landdrost has caused to be written on 
the gates of Kroonstad, " Nil sine Laboere " ? 

That the Welshman called Mr. Kruger's son 
" ap-Paul " and the son's father " appalling " ? 


War's Brighter Side 

That the man who said that President Steyn 
" showed no signs of stayin' " when we got near 
Bloemfontein was shot on the spot by his rear- 
rank man ? 

That " The Gay Lord Treks " and the " Manoeu- 
vres of Steyn " will be acted in London in the 
winter ? 

That, in view of the late change of political opin- 
ion of the chief Bloemfontein newspaper, its name 
is to be changed to " Our Mutual Friend " ? 

An early answer to some of these important 
questions will oblige. Yours truly, 

H. Atter. 

Glen Siding, O.F.S., March 30th. 



A most interesting meeting was held at the Town 
Hall on Monday evening in connection with the 
" Army Temperance Association," an organisation 
which owes its existence to the efforts and personal 
interest of Field-Marshal Lord Roberts which, as 
one of the speakers on the platform so rightly said, 
are always exercised in everything which is to the 
benefit of the British soldier. As, therefore, there 
are at present with our troops at Bloemfontein the 
President and Founder of the Association, two 
members of the Executive Committee, and many 


Fooled by the Boers 

hundreds of members, it was a happy conception 
to call a meeting of those interested in Temperance 
work under the auspices of the Association, and one 
which commended itself to the approval of the 
Commander-in-Chief, who, in spite of many things 
which daily press upon him, readily consented to 
preside and speak at the meeting. 

Much is due to the energy of the Rev. Canon 
Orford for arrangements made, and the kindness 
of residents in the city, all of which tended greatly 
to the success of the meeting. Disappointments 
were inevitable. Sudden movements and the exi- 
gencies of the service robbed us of the company of 
many who would otherwise have been present, and 
we missed the promised help of the band of " The 

On the platform were, besides the Commander- 
in-Chief and his personal staff, the Very Rev. the 
Dean ; the Venerable the Archdeacon ; Mr. Meiring, 
of the Customs ; Mr. Falck, of the Post-Office ; the 
Revs. T. F. Faulkner, F. B. N. Norman-Lee, and 
H. T. Coney, Chaplains to the Forces ; Captain A. 
H. Webb, R.A. ; Mr. Goddard, and R. Grindel, Esq., 
2nd Coldstream Guards. 

Lord Roberts in his address expressed his great 
pleasure in being able to preside, and sketched 
clearly and briefly the history of the beginning of 
the Association in India, its rapid growth in spite 
of antagonism, its ultimate and acknowledged suc- 
cess, and eventually its introduction into England, 
where now it can boast of a branch in almost 


War's Brighter Side 

every regiment and depot in the kingdom. He 
particularly emphasised its being a temperance and 
not only a " total abstainer " society, and lastly 
pointed to the work done by the troops under his 
command during the past few weeks as an evidence 
of what can be done by temperate, or in this case 
almost entire non-abstaining, men, than whom (he 
said) he had never seen any to march better, en- 
dure privations more contentedly, or to be better 

Mr. Lodge followed with an excellent song, ad- 
mirably sung, which promptly elicited an " encore," 
which he kindly granted. 

Rev. T. F. Faulkner then gave a short address 
about the principles of the Association and how 
they might afifect and be affected by the exigencies 
of the march, and expressed the feeling of gratitude 
and pleasure which all A.T.A. members must share 
at the interest shown in their undertaking by the 
clergy and citizens of Bloemfontein. 

A treat was then accorded to the audience in 
two songs sung by Miss Fraser, who most willingly 
responded to the vigorous appeal of our soldiers. 
Such singing by a lady we had not heard for a long 
time, and the men were not slow to detect the 
high order of Miss Fraser's powers. The Very 
Rev. the Dean gave a warm welcome as temper- 
ance workers in the name of those in Bloemfon- 
tein who had the work at heart, and spoke of 
the encouragement to them which such a meeting 


Fooled by the Boers 

An amusing song by Capt. Webb, R.A., also 
loudly encored, formed a pleasing contrast in the 
programme. Mr. Lodge and Miss Fraser were so 
good as to sing yet another song each, much to 
the delight of our members. Two short speeches 
by Mr. Grindel and Capt. Webb on the subject of 
the Association's worth and object and the mem- 
bers' duties in connection with it, brought the pro- 
gramme to a close save for the few graceful words 
spoken by Rev. F. B. N. Norman-Lee, in express- 
ing the thanks of the meeting to Lord Roberts 
for his presence, and to those who had, by their 
kind help, conduced towards the success of the 
meeting and the pleasure of those who had at- 
tended it. The Rev. H. T. Coney, who had taken 
an active part in getting up the meeting, proved 
himself an excellent accompanist. The National 
Anthem closed the proceedings. 

The same by Another Contributor 

The presence of the Field Marshal, who may be 
called the father of the Association, attracted many 
who, perhaps, have not been identified with the 
movement. All who attended were repaid by get- 
ting a sight of the man of the hour in South Africa, 
and listening to his speech of introduction. In well- 
chosen words he gave a brief outline of the founding 
of the Association, its growth from the Total Absti- 
nence Association first founded in India, and the 


War's Brighter Side 

gradual broadening of its scope and purposes. He 
told of the influence of the A.T.A. in the army, 
how it was free from prejudice and sectarian- 
ism, and he pointed out to the soldiers the ad- 
vantages of joining. Every member was known 
to his commanding officer, and for important 
posts men were often chosen because of this mem- 

The soldiers who filled the body of the hall dwelt 
on every word that fell from the lips of the man they 
loved. When he spoke of the " Army it was now 
his great honour to command," the Field Marshal 
showed his depth of feeling in his voice. He was 
proud to be the leader of " the best-behaved army 
in the world " ; he spoke of the splendid way in 
which the troops had marched, of how uncom- 
plainingly they had endured the hardships of the 
campaign and how well they had fought. In a 
half-joking manner he spoke of them as having all 
been members of the A.T.A. Modder River water 
was all they had to drink, and sometimes little of 
that. In a graceful way the Field Marshal thanked 
the people of Bloemfontein for the interest shown 
by their attendance, and he expressed his gratitude 
to Miss Fraser and Mr. Lodge for voluntarily help- 
ing the success of the meeting with their songs. 
Constantly the soldiers interrupted the speech with 
applause, and when Lord Roberts had concluded, it 
was some time before it died away. 


Fooled by the Boers 



Though thirteen thousand miles of foam 

Divide us from the land 
That bred our sires, yet we their sons 

With you united stand, 
And in this year of warring strife 

From over all the earth 
We haste to help the grand old land 

That gave our fathers birth. 

From inland plain, from mountain height. 

From city and from coast, 
From divers ends of all the earth, 

From the dear land we boast 
Our proud descent ; and never wfi^xe 

Our language may be spoken 
Shall the strong tie that binds us to 

Our mother land be broken. 

All round the world we live in lands 

Thy enterprise has won, 
And when the day with you is past 

With us the rising sun 
Brings light to carry on the work 

Bequeathed to us by Thee ; 
We make and shape an Empire that 

Extends from sea to sea. 


War's Brighter Side 

The same clear head, the same firm tread 

And independent air 
That made all other men seem mean 

Who with thy sons compare; 
The same cool, prudent common-sense 

And strong decision that 
Conquer with the tools of peace 

Or weapons of defence. 

Nor Greece, or Rome, or France, or Spain 

Had at their highest hour 
One-half thy Empire, half thy wealth 

Or world-embracing power. 
And not to any race that lives 

In History's wondrous story 
Has ever been vouchsafed on earth 

Such universal glory. 

And we thy sons as much as those 

Who stay at home with thee. 
All seedlings planted far away 

From the ancestral tree, 
Breed true and show in branch and sap 

The same old sturdy merit, 
And plant our British customs in 

The lands that we inherit. 

And now from all your distant lands 

With haste we come to show 
We do not wait for you to ask 

Our help against the foe, 


Fooled by the Boers 

But gather round thee pleased to have 

The opportunity 
Of proving to the world in arms 

Our splendid unity. 



Events have followed each other during the last 
week in such rapid succession that it is impossible to 
give more than a short epitome of the engagements 
at Karree Siding and Waterfall Drift. The cavalry 
reconnaissance to Brandfort showed that there was 
a considerable concentration of the enemy in that 
town, and as the Intelligence Department had in- 
formation that a large force of Boers, re-equipped 
and remounted, had come down from Kroonstadt, 
it was deemed necessary to occupy the clump of 
kopjes in which Karee lies. 

The enemy forestalled this move, and on 27th 
March the hills round Karee were reported held. 
As both flanks of the Karee position presented 
ground over which it was possible for cavalry to 
work, a plan of operations was made by which it 
was hoped that our occupation would result in the 
capture of the enemy's advance guard. 

With this object a Cavalry division under Gen- 
eral French, a brigade of Mounted Infantry and an 
Infantry division under Lieut.-Gen. Tucker con- 


War's Brighter Side 

centrated at Glen on April 28th. On the following 
morning the Cavalry made a detour round the right 
of the enemy's position, the mounted Infantry under 
Lieut.-Col. Le Gallais making a similar movement 
round the left. The object of this operation was 
obvious. The mounted Corps were to be prepared 
to come into action at the rear of the Boer position 
as soon as General Tucker delivered his Infantry 

At 10 a.m., having received heliographic com- 
munication from Gen. French, Gen. Tucker put his 
division in motion — he advanced it across the four 
miles of plain leading to the foot of the range of 
kopjes in echelon of battalions, Gen. Chermside's 
Brigade on the right, General Wavell's on the left. 
The position which he essayed to attack, in the 
vicinity of Karee, may be roughly termed three 
parallel ridges with a stretch of valley between each. 

Contrary to all expectation, the first ridge was 
found unoccupied and the infantry advanced with- 
out opposition, until the leading battalion (Lincolns) 
reached the foot of the second parallel. Here they 
were fired into by a patrol, which itself fell back at 
once. Under cover of a few rounds from the guns 
which came into action, on the left of the advance, 
the second range was occupied. Beneath this lay 
the plain of Karee, a fiat of about 2,000 yards, the 
station standing in the centre. 

At first it was not evident that the third parallel 
of hills was held. But as the Norfolks, Lincolns, 
and six companies of the King's Own Scottish 


Fooled by the Boers 

Borderers scaled a considerable kopje which com- 
manded the left of the final parallel, shrapnel was 
burst over them from a field gun which appeared 
to be in the valley below. The rest of Chermside's 
brigade, covered by a few of the C.I.V., were push- 
ing across the open. The mounted men and two 
companies of the K.O.S.B.'s advanced to within 
200 yards of the final position before the enemy 
declared their presence by opening fire. The re- 
ception which the advanced line received from the 
marksmen lining the hill east and from individuals 
ensconced in the bushes on the slopes of the hills 
was so sharp that the line was checked and part of 
it forced to retire. The three field batteries then 
came into action against a high tableland kop which 
formed the right of the held position, the advance 
remaining checked the while. 

A battery was detached to aid the right, as the 
K.O.S.B.'s were suffering from a well-directed and 
well-ranged shrapnel fire. This battery was not 
able to come into action, as the teams were unable 
to bring the guns up the slope of the position 
chosen. But three of Wavell's battalions were 
brought across the open and an assault was at- 
tempted on the main kopje. 

Matters practically remained at a deadlock until 
four p.m., when the sound of French's guns was 
heard in the rear of the enemy's position. Three 
shrapnel burst on the nek connecting the left and 
centre of the Boer position. The Mauser fire 
stopped as if by magic, and the enemy vacated. 


War's Brighter Side 

The whole Hne then advanced and occupied the 
enemy's position, the latter retreating across the 
plain in the direction of Brandfort, taking their 
guns with them, which they unlimbered at intervals 
to shell the cavalry. 


Lady Edward Cecil and Lady Charles Bentinck 
are here on a visit. 

An amusing incident occurred the other day at 
the Glen. An officer of one of the Guards Bat- 
talions, whose name resembles that of the station, 
was found bathing in the Modder by a flying sentry 
stationed there to prevent the men from bathing. 
The sentry knew his duty, and unceremoniously 
ordered the delinquent to come out of the water, 
whereupon the gallant captain, in all his nakedness, 
approached the bank and indignantly asked the 
man, " Can't you see I am an officer? " 



Dr. a. Conan Doyle Contributes 

And this suggests a fezv remarks about the much- 
discussed Treatment of our Sick 

The editorial in the number of April 6th was 
written by me, with the assistance of Mr. Kip- 
ling, who aided me in phrasing concisely and 
with force the declaration of British principles 
in the body of the article. The manuscript was 
set up and " proved " while he was with us, and 
then was sent to the Residency in order that the 
authorities might look up some one capable of 
translating it into the Taal language. It was 
the first of our editorials to be printed, Hke Lord 
Roberts's proclamation, in both tongues. In 
English it was entitled, " To the People of the 
Free State," and this line was paralleled in our 
columns with this counterpart in Taal: 

Aan Het Volk Van den (? Oranje) Vrij- 

Dr. A. Conan Doyle, who has since written 
so excellent a book upon " The Great Boer 

War's Brighter Side 

War," had recently arrived in Bloemfontein, and 
enjoyed his first welcoming dinner with the edi- 
tors of The Friend at the Free State Hotel. 
He took a keen interest in our strange newspaper 
venture, and willingly wrote for us when we 
asked him to do so. The ringing, sturdily- 
phrased article, " A First Impression," which ap- 
peared in this number of April 6th, was by him. 

But he came at the head of the Langman 
Field Hospital, and was, at first, busy in estab- 
lishing that most excellent, much needed insti- 
tution on the cricket-ground; then busier far in 
looking after the enteric patients who passed un- 
der his care in numbers startling to record. It 
fell to me to write a notice of his arrival, in which 
I said — and from my heart — " We welcome him 
to the British Army. We had hoped to wel- 
come him to the stafT of The Friend, but, in 
view of the humane and philanthropic work 
which busies him night and day, we cannot be- 
tray such selfishness as to express any disap- 
pointment over this loss. 

" So true a talent as his compels him to write, 
whether he will or no, and he has promised us a 
thought or an observation, now and then, out 
of his golden store. Perhaps at the end of the 
war he may give to the world a companion book 
to his undying * White Company.' If it is called 
the ' Khaki Company,' and deals with the ex- 

y^*Vu, cuacI Lmju. <3l tLtM-*.*^ t: ^i^JxA — l*«-a< cx^d LuZxjt a. 

A Page of Dr. Conan Doyle's "Copy." 

Dr. A. Conan Doyle Contributes 

ploits of Englishmen of to-day, there will be, 
thank God, no lack of deeds of valour as stirring, 
courage as calm, and warfare as enthusiastic as 
he found to electrify the pages of the earlier 

All who were in Bloemfontein spoke as highly 
of the Langman Hospital as I have done, and 
in the same — even in a more ardent manner — 
had we all praised the Australian Field Hospital, 
which we got to know before Lord Roberts took 
command. Especially did we exalt these insti- 
tutions in our mind, because of the way in which 
we contrasted them with the outfits of the R.A. 
Medical Corps. We could not then see why it 
was that private individuals and colonies should 
surpass the richest nation on earth in their 
equipments for the care of the sick and wounded, 
or why the richest nation on earth should have 
to rely on these outside establishments, and beg 
of the Red Cross agents and of the people of 
South Africa for the means to complete the 
equipment of her own field hospitals. 

It is not a pleasant subject. It does not 
force itself into a book upon " the brighter side 
of war " by reason of any especial harmony with 
that title. But it suggests a story which Eng- 
land needs to know — which England must wish 
to know if she means to keep her place among 
the fighting powers by the only means by which 
24 351 

War's Brighter Side 

that status can be maintained — which the stop- 
ping of every source of weakness and the reform 
of every evil in her army. As I said when I was 
urged to testify before the Commission which 
inquired into the subject, I did not study the 
matter when I was with the army. I was con- 
scious of the general belief that the hospital 
service did not meet the demands of the situa- 
tion either after the awful losses at Paardeberg, 
or, later, when enteric claimed between 5,000 
and 7,000 victims at Bloemfontein. 

Death was thick in the air. Nearly every 
correspondent and officer counted more friends 
who were sick than he had known to be wounded 
or killed in battle. The rains had set in. The 
veldt was like a marsh. The nights were bit- 
terly cold. The dead in their blankets pursued 
us in the streets of the town and on every ride we 
took upon the veldt. My concern for my son 
took me daily to the Volks Hospital, where the 
doctor and nurses said that enteric in Bloemfon- 
tein took on so mild a form that they should 
" consider it a lasting disgrace to have a patient 
die of that disease," and yet every time I went 
to that hospital I heard from other visitors how 
rnany were the deaths in the army hospitals. I 
heard, too, how bad were the sanitary arrange- 
ments, how inef^cient were the often untrained 
" Tommy " nurses, how dreadful were the risks 

Dr. A. Conan Doyle Contributes 

the patients were obliged to take (in some 
field hospitals) in obeying the commands of 

Now that I have returned to England I have 
had a high official of the Medical Corps say to 
me, " It was known beforehand that the service 
must break down in war because it was under- 
manned; it was never made familiar with its 
work, it had too few reserves to draw upon; 
when it was distended by the sudden and ex- 
traordinary demands of war it had to grow on 
paper, but not in fit and proper personnel or 

Here, then, is the basis for what must, sooner 
or later, be exposed to all the nation. Knowing 
that things were amiss, and that they could not 
have been otherwise, the people need not wait 
two or five years for all the facts, or for the 
creation of a mis-applied " sensation." Let 
them doggedly and firml)^ insist that the loud- 
ly promised reform of the army shall be cer- 
tain to include the establishment of a properly 
trained, equipped, and proportioned R.A.M.C., 
and that the lingering prejudice of the regu- 
lar army officer against this most useful, eco- 
nomic, and essential corps shall vanish before 
the will of the people as stubble is swept up by 
a prairie fire. 

Mr. Gwynne wrote the obituary notice of 

War's Brighter Side 

Archibald Forbes, Mr. Fred W. Unger wrote a 
descriptive article called " The Inexpressible 
Veldt," and we were rejoiced once again to pub- 
lish a contribution in verse by Mr. A. B. Pater- 
son, of Sydney. 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts^ Forces.") 

>T g-| BLOEMFONTEIN. j" Price 

■J FRIDAY, APRIL 6, I900. LOne Penny. 


Monday or Tuesday, a pair of Field Glasses, a 
pair of Wire Cutters, and Leather Pouch. Please 
return same and claim reward.^ 


The time by which Civilians have to be in their 
houses is extended to 9 p.m. on Sundays, to enable 
them to return from Church. 

B. Burnett Hitchcock, Lieutenant, 
Asst. Provost-Marshal to Military Gvernor. 
April 6th, 1900. 

^ The victim of this bold theft out of our sanctum was Mr. 
James Barnes, our colleague and occasional contributor and 


Dr. A. Conan Doyle Contributes 



'Twas in the days of front attack, 

This glorious truth we'd yet to learn it, 

That every " front " has got a " back," 
And French is just the man to turn it. 

A wounded soldier on the ground 
Was lying flat behind a hummock ; 

He proved the good old proverb sound, 
'' An army travels on its stomach ! " 

He lay as flat as any fish. 

His nose had worn a little furrow, 
He only had one frantic wish — 

That like an ant-bear he could burrow. 

The bullets whistled into space. 

The pom-pom gun kept up its braying, 

The four-point seven supplied the bass ; 
You'd think the Devil's band was playing. 

A valiant comrade crawling near 

Observed his most supine behaviour 

And crawled towards him, " Eh ! what cheer ! 
Buck up," says he, " I've come to save ye ! '' 

" You get up on my shoulders, mate ! 

And if we live beyond the firing, 
I'll get a V.C. sure as fate, 

Because our blokes is all retiring. 


War's Brighter Side 

" It's fifty pound a year," says he, 

" I'll stand you lots of beer and whisky." 

" No," says the wounded man, " not me, 
I won't be saved ; it's far too risky ! 

' I'm fairly safe behind this mound, 
I've worn a hole that seems to fit me, 

But if you lift me off the ground 

It's fifty pound to one they'll hit me ! " 

So off towards the firing-line 

His mate crept slowly to the rear, oh ! 
Remarking, '' What a selfish swine ! 

He might have let me be a hero ! " 



The British have come to stay. 

Our students of political economy have taught 
us that the constitution and laws of the old Free 
State were as nearly perfect as any that could be 
framed for a democracy. 

The basis of the British Government is that of an 
enlightened and progressive democracy. 

It is therefore certain that British rule will not 
bring any violent or revolutionary changes to the 
conditions under which you citizens have been 

What are British principles ? 

Dr. A. Conan Doyle Contributes 

The absolute independence of the individual, so 
long as he does not interfere with his neighbour's 

Prompt and equal justice, before the Lqrd, to 
all men. 

A natural and rooted antipathy to anything 
savouring of military despotism, in any shape or 

Absolute religious toleration and freedom of 
belief for all peoples. 

Prompt and incorruptible justice to all men in 
every walk of life. 

The right of every man to make his home his 

In view of these things and of the unalterable fact 
that the country has passed under a new rule, why 
should burghers hesitate or delay in making friends 
with the new situation? 

We are your friends. We have never felt un- 
friendly toward you ; for even in war we realised 
that you were deceived by unwise and selfish leaders. 

Let us, then, repeat the new motto of the Free 
State, printed at the head of the newspaper, " All has 
come right," for we are certain that as soon as your 
people realise what is to be the new rule under 
w^hich you are to live, you will know and acknowl- 
edge that the right has prevailed, and that never 
again shall you stand in fear of a military oligarchy 
like the Transvaal ; or of tyranny or injustice in 
any form. 


War's Brighter Side 



It was only Smith-Dorrien's Brigade marching 
into Bloemfontein, but if it could have been passed, 
just as it was, down Piccadilly and the Strand it 
would have driven London crazy. I got down from 
the truck which we were unloading and watched 
them, the ragged, bearded, fierce-eyed infantry, 
straggling along under their cloud of dust. Who 
could conceive, who has seen the prim soldier of 
peace, that he could so quickly transform himself 
into this grim, virile barbarian? Bulldog faces, 
hawk faces, hungry wolf faces, every sort of face 
except a weak one. Here and there a reeking pipe, 
here and there a man who smiled, but the most 
have their swarthy faces leaned a little forward, their 
eyes steadfast, their features impassive but resolute. 
Baggage waggons were passing, the mules all skin 
and ribs, with the escort tramping beside the wheels. 
Here are a clump of Highlanders, their workman- 
like aprons in front, their keen faces burned black 
with months of the veldt. 

It is an honoured name that they bear on their 
shoulder-straps. " Good old Gordons ! " I cried as 
they passed me. The sergeant glanced at the dirty 
enthusiast in the undershirt. " What cheer, matey ! " 
he cried, and his men squared their shoulders and 
put a touch of ginger into their stride. Here are a 
clump of Mounted Infantry, a grizzled fellow like a 
' Copyrighted. Used here with the author's permission. 


Dr. A. Conan Doyle Contributes 

fierce old eagle at the head of them. Some are 
maned like lions, some have young, keen faces, but 
all leave an impression of familiarity upon me. And 
yet I have not seen irregular British cavalry before. 
Why should I be so familiar with this loose-limbed, 
head-erect, swaggering type ; of course it is the 
American cow-boy over again. Strange that a few 
months of the veldt has produced exactly the same 
man that springs from the western prairie. But these 
men are warriors in the midst of war. Their eyes are 
hard and quick. They have the gaunt, intent look of 
men who live always under the shadow of danger. 
What splendid fellows there are among them ! 

Here is one who hails me; the last time I saw 
him we put on seventy runs together when they were 
rather badly needed, and here we are, partners in 
quite another game. Here is a man of fortune, 
young, handsome, the world at his feet, he comes 
out and throws himself into the thick of it. He is a 
great heavy-game shot, and has brought two other 
" dangerous men " out with him. Next him is an 
East London farmer, next him a fighting tea-planter 
of Ceylon, next him a sporting baronet, next him a 
journalist, next him a cricketer, whose name is a 
household word. Those are the men who press into 
the skirmish-line of England's battle. 

And here are other men again, taller and sturdier 
than infantry of the line, grim, solid men, as straight 
as poplars. There is a maple-leaf, I think, upon 
their shoulder straps, and a British brigade is glad 
enough to have those maples beside them. For 


War's Brighter Side 

these are the Canadians, the men of Paardeberg, and 
there behind them are their comrades in glory, the 
Shropshire Light Infantry, shnging along with a 
touch of the spirit of their grand sporting colonel, 
the man who at forty-five is still the racquet 
champion of the British army. You see the dirty 
private with the rifle under his arm and the skin 
hanging from his nose. There are two little stars 
upon his strained shoulders, if you could see them 
under the dirt. That is the dandy captain who 
used to grumble about the food on the P. and O. 
" Nothing fit to eat," he used to cry as he glanced 
at his menu. I wonder what he would say now? 
Well, he stands for his country, and England also 
may be a little less coddled and a little more adaptive 
before these brave, brave sons of hers have hoisted 
her flag over the " raad zaal " of Pretoria. 



(From the Household Brigade Magazine) 


When you've done your meat and jipper — when 
you've 'ad your go o' beer — 
When your duff 'as filled the corners of your 
shape — 
P'raps you'll kindly spare some sympathy, and drop 
a silent tear 
For a gentleman in khaki at the Cape. 
*E's an absent-bodied beggar — as it's needless to 
relate — 


Dr. A. Conan Doyle Contributes 

An' 'is most frequented pub '11 fail to find him, 
For 'e doesn't get a chance to chalk 'is drinks up on 
a slate 
'Cause 'e's left Three-thick and Drug-'ole far 
behind 'im. 

Lime-juice mixed with water the colour of mud 

{Fifty thousand 'orse and foot, moderate drinkers we), 

Bully beef and rooty, and where shall we find a spud? 
Pass your tin, for there's nothing to drink but tea, 
tea, , tea ! 

Now we falls in of a mornin', an' we knows there's 
work to do 
Simultaneous with the risin' of the sun ; 
We can see 'em on the kopjes, and their numbers 
isn't few. 
An' it's more than rather likely there's a gun. 
When we get within " fixed sights " it's ten to one 
the blighter's gone, 
And an absent-bodied beggar we shall find 'im, 
For 'e mounts 'is 'orse an' ofifs it when 'e finds us 
comin' on, 
An' 'e never leaves a drop o' drink be'ind 'im. 

Pile arms ! Lie dorvn ! Now let the Transport come ! 

{Am I 'tmgry and thirsty ? Wait till I let you see /) 
Bully beef and rooty, and somebody's pinched my rum. 

Pass your tin, for there's nothing to drink but tea, 
tea, tea ! 

There's a chap called Wilfrid Lawson as is always 
on the squeak, 
An' 'e turns the liquor question inside out ; . 

War's Brighter Side 

But a bloke can do a gallon — if the tiddley's fairly 
weak — 
Without actually going on the shout. 
But the absent-bodied tipper feels a temporary check 
When 'e tastes a kind of something to remind him, 
There's a Boer up the river with a stone around 'is 
'As a filter what old Cronje's left be'ind 'im. 

Fill mine ! Mine too ! {^Smells like a bloomin drain /) 
Fill at the nearest water ^ spite of the M.F.P. 

Bully beef and rooty, and something' s give me a pain. 
Pass your tin, for there's nothing to drink but tea, 
tea, tea! 

Don't you fancy I'm a-grousin'. You can look me 
in the face 
An' judge if I'm a coward or a cur, 
When I tells you 'ow I scrambled up each blood-an'- 
thunder place 
Without any 'esitation or demur. 
Still, your absent-bodied comrade's got a thirst 
what's run to waste, 
And 'e'll show you in the future, when you 
find 'im 
Back in Wellington or Chelsea, as 'e's not forgot the 
Of the beer what 'e's at present left be'ind 'im. 

Wayo ! 'Fre's luck ! F)rink to your sweet- eart dear 

[Fifty thousand 'orse and foot, moderate drinkers we), 
Wait till the war is over, then for the pint <?' beer. 
Pass your tin, for there's nothi?ig to drink but tea^ 
tea, tea ! 



Loot and Lurid Crazes 

A chapter in which zve also tell of a modest Prince 
and a gallant Adventurer 

" The Friend " contained notices of Kruger 
sovereigns and Transvaal pennies for sale, of 
Boer rifles and saddles, but none of the postage 
stamps of the former Free State or the newly 
surcharged ones in use by the army. Though 
Transvaal pennies fetched twenty-five shillings 
and were in great demand, the real enthusiasm 
of collectors was for postage stamps, and officers 
and others were busy as bees buying stamps and 
having them erased to make them the more val- 

South Africa is as bare and barren a place 
for collectors, and even for the modest traveller 
who wishes for merely one trifling souvenir, as 
can be imagined. The war provided some tro- 
phies in the way of shells and Mauser rifles, but 
outside these there was nothing except, perhaps, 
the empty ostrich eggs to be found in every Boer 

War's Brighter Side 

house — and also to be found everywhere else in 
the civilised world. 

The most coveted war trophies were: first, 
the Transvaal and Free State flags; second, the 
extraordinary waistcoats worn by a few Boers, 
and covered all over with cartridge slits or pock- 
ets made especially to hold the Mauser " clips " 
of five cartridges each; third, old Dutch Bibles 
illustrated by quaint woodcuts, and fourth, Boer 
rifles. However, even the war trophies were 
few and hard to get, and the singular energy of 
collectors expended itself in the gathering of 
new and old postage stamps, at which generals, 
colonels, and Tommies busied themselves, and a 
well-known London man of my acquaintance 
cleared a profit of £300, still reserving for him- 
self a handsome collection. 

The name of Prince Francis of Teck no 
longer appeared in The Friend beneath the de- 
mand he had been making for horses. I remem- 
ber that the circus-ground he had pre-empted 
for the safe-keeping of his stock was now full of 
animals one day, half-empty the next day, and 
full again on the third, as he bought and distrib- 
uted his live stock. I want, before I forget it, 
to tell how some of us editors entertained him 
without having the vaguest idea who he was. 

He was invited to dinner at the Free State 
Hotel by Mr. Landon, who saw him seated and 

Loot and Lurid Crazes 

then introduced him to the rest of us, but in so 
indistinct a manner that we did not catch his 
name. We simply saw in our company a hand- 
some and stalwart young officer of imposing 
stature, and evidently profound good-nature. 
We all conversed upon the current topics of the 
day and place, and one of us, I remember, had 
occasion to differ with our guest, diametrically, 
upon some point — doing so as bluntly, though 
not at all rudely, as men were apt to do in such a 
place and at such a time — when the extra and 
more elaborate formalities are apt to be laid 
aside for future use at the Mount Nelson Hotel, 
and later in the routine of life at home. 

After dinner our guest suggested that he 
should enjoy a chat and smoke in our company 
elsewhere than in the noisy dining-room, so we 
invited him to Mr, Kipling's bedroom, which 
was larger than Mr. Landon's or Mr. Gwynne's 
or mine. We spent a very pleasant hour in 
freest converse, one of us being prone upon one 
bed and rolling around on it pipe in mouth, 
while our guest lolled upon a cot beside the 
chest of drawers, and the others held down two 
chairs and looked after the distribution of the 
cigarettes and the less dry refreshments at our 

We were not able, by any means, to agree 
with some of the propositions of our guest, but 

War's Brighter Side 

he accepted our views in a spirit of good-hu- 
mour, or of a desire to learn what we had seen 
and studied. He talked a great deal about 
horses, and about the fertile ingenuity of the 
native horse trader, as well as of his own ability 
to defeat him at his wiles — but we took no hint 
from this. When he had gone we asked Mr. 
Landon, "Who was that? We did not catch 
his name." 

Mr. Landon told us, and we replied, 

The largest advertisement in the paper was 
that of Mr. Murray Guthrie, Esq., M.P., whose 
address just then was " the Railway Station." 
He was most generously giving up his time to 
the receipt and distribution of those parcels for 
the troops which were now beginning to come 
from England in great and little packing-cases, 
and large and small bundles numbering enough 
to be reckoned by the car-load. 

We had received the news of the killing of 
Colonel de Villebois-Mareuil in an engagement 
with Lord Methuen's force, and Mr. Gwynne 
wrote a spirited leader in honour of the French- 
man's memory. 

We heard some interesting details about the 

capture of Villebois, which I think have never 

been published. His commando threatened 

Boshof, and when our force began to attack the 


Loot and Lurid Crazes 

kopje where he was lodged the second shell we 
fired killed him. He was not the only nobleman 
in his commando, for among the prisoners we 
captured one was a Russian prince and another 
was the Comte Breda, a Frenchman, Hke his 
leader. Another prisoner was a stalwart Eng- 
lishman named Simpson, whose long beard was 
braided to keep it out of the way when he was 
shooting. Physically, he was the most splendid 
specimen of manhood our soldiers had seen in 
the Boer ranks. Lord Methuen ordered a mili- 
tary burial, and commanded Colonel Higgins of 
the Third Welsh Borderers to obtain a fitting 
tombstone. The English general attended the 
funeral, which took place in Boshof cemetery. 
" General " Villebois was buried in a blanket, 
but this was covered by the Union Jack when 
the body was solemnly borne to the grave be- 
tween the lines of the men of the Loyal North 
Lancashire Regiment. No chaplain officiated, 
but none of the formalities of a complete military 
service were omitted. The Comte Breda made 
a little speech at the close, thanking the British 
for their courtesy and kindness. After that our 
own dead were buried in the same little cemetery. 
The affair provoked great and deep discus- 
sion, and so many British officers were displeased 
by what Lord Methuen had seen fit to do that 
The Friend was at pains to try and clear the 
25 367 

War's Brighter Side 

air of the false impression that one brave general 
had not a right to honour another in this sol- 
dierly way. We also pictured Villebois as he 
appeared to us, a knight of ancient pattern, a 
restless, gallant warrior, who had political rea- 
sons for wishing to keep himself in the mind of 
his people while waiting for the ripening of his 
plans. The Hne on his gravestone, " died on the 
field of honour," was originally written " on the 
field of battle," and was ordered to be changed at 
the last moment. This phrase also angered 
many British, who, presumably, thought that a 
grand monument had been set up over the un- 
fortunate Frenchman. In fact, the stone only 
cost ten pounds when dressed and inscribed, and 
in a country where such things fetch twice their 
value here. 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts* Forces^ 



( The following message has been received by F. M. Lord Roberts 
from Lord Methuen : ^''Arrangements have been made for the 
burial of Colonel de Villebois- Mar euil this evening with military 
honours. ") 

A short, well-built, admirably proportioned man, 
with quick expressive eyes, and an open, frank 
countenance was the late Colonel de Villebois- 

Loot and Lurid Crazes 

Mareuil. He was a soldier, and a gallant soldier, 
from the top of his close-cropped head to the soles 
of his daintily-shod feet. Wherever there was war, 
or the possibilities of war, de Villebois-Mareuil was 
on the spot ready to fight for whichever side, in his 
eyes, appeared to have the greater claims on justice. 
Impulsive to a degree, he was often drawn to conclu- 
sions for which he could never give logical grounds. 
The picturesqueness of the Boer side of the war, the 
presence of old Huguenot names among those of the 
Boer leaders, the imagined wrongs of the two Re- 
publics, were quite sufficient to attract the generous 
and emotional Frenchman into the struggle. And 
once in the struggle, he gave the whole of his energy 
to it. Not content with drawing the sword for the 
two Republics, he wielded a charming pen on their 
behalf. Some of his letters to the Paris Liberie prove 
that if the world has lost a gallant soldier, it has 
also lost a brilliant war correspondent. 

To us English, imbued as we are with a full 
appreciation of everything which appears manly or 
sporting, the figure of Colonel de Villebois-Mareuil 
is particularly sympathetic. We overlook his some- 
what illogical defence of what appears to us the 
gross injustice of the Transvaal's dealings with Eng- 
lishmen, and we only see a gallant Frenchman fight- 
ing and laying down his life for a cause which he 
espoused with the warmth of a generous nature. 
There is something touching in a sentence of his 
which appears in one of his letters from South 
Africa. " When I came here I believed I was going 


War's Brighter Side 

to the sacrifice." Gallant, generous, chivalrous sol- 
dier : May God rest his soul ! 

Over his grave we forget that he fought against 
us, and we think only of the gallant soldier. A 
British bullet laid him low, but a British General 
lays him to rest with full military honours. 


BY J. H. M. A. 

Kopjes are steep, and the veldt is brown — 

(Utterly true, if you pause to think) 
Biscuits are done and your luck is down ; 

" Modder " is not an inspiriting drink 
(Dead Boers' taint, and defunct mules stink). 

Better the sound of the screaming bomb, 
Excitement and hurry of Hell's own brink — 

Alas ! for a tune on the gay Pom-pom. 

Action front ! " — And the guns are round. 

Teams go back with the chains a-clink. 
We're reaping the storm that the scouts have sown 

(The sun gets red and the clouds are pink). 
" Show for the lyddite, that's all " — you think 

(Frenchmen would shrug, with a sacre nom), 
When out in the dusk, in the half of a jink, 

Suddenly singeth the brisk Pom-pom. 

" Pom-pom-pom " — and the shells have flown ; 

" Bang-bang-bang " — without rise or sink — 
Accurate sameness to half a tone — 

Whizzing one-pounders — don't stop to think — 


Loot and Lurid Crazes 

Open the ranks like a " spieler's " wink. 

This is a speedy and frolicsome bomb. 
Do not despise it, but do not shrink, 

This is a nerve-test, this swift Pom-pom. 


Oom, when you sit in the dark and think, 
After the war, and your nights are long, 

Bitterness sweeten of cups you drink 

With a memory sad of your sweet Pom-pom. 



It happened about the time of the Paardeberg 
affair, or, to be exact, at 12.10 a.m. on the 22nd of 
February, 1900, our battery (the 82nd R.F.A.) had 
throughout the day catered diligently and well for 
the tastes of Cronje and his followers. They had 
breakfast betimes in the shape of shrapnel (un- 
boiled), liberally and impartially distributed to all 
and sundry within the laager; luncheon, tea, and 
supper followed in due succession, each consisting 
principally of the same palatable diet, flavoured at 
intervals with the celebrated Lyddite sauce. This 
same is noted for its piquancy and marvellous power 
of imparting elasticity to the lower extremities 
(gouty and dropsical people please copy). 

We returned to camp that night pretty well tired 
out, and hungry enough to eat " heef " (troop horse, 


War's Brighter Side 

isn't it?), and wondering what our good Poulter, the 
battery chef, had prepared in the shape of grub — we 
had fought all day on a couple of " Spratt's gum- 
hardeners." As we neared the camp a most appe- 
tising odour smote our olfactory nerves. " Beef 
stew," says our No. i, who has a wonderful nose for 
odours. " Garn," retorts Driver Jones, who loves a 
joke ; " more likely an old goat that's ' scorfed ' the 
'nside of one of ' Redfern's trenches ' (this is a bat- 
tery joke) ; too strong for beef." Well, by this time 
we had arrived, and some one who knew said it was 
veal, and that Mason, our Mason, Mason the mighty 
hunter and what-not, had commandeered it. 

Presently arrived the cooks and camp kettles, and 
we settled down to a good " buster." When nothing 
was left but empty pots and vain longings, we lit our 
pipes, and the aromatic fumes of our Boer's Head 
cabbagio were wafted heavenwards, our veracious 
raconteur related how he had captured the calf. 
How our pulses throbbed and our blood rose to 
fever heat as he told how he tore away his game 
from under the very horns of its enraged mother ; 
and how, with the calf on his back, he had been 
chased five miles and over a big kopje strewn with 
boulders as big as an A.S.C. waggon, and finally, 
seeing no other mode of escape, had hurled the 
animal (the calf, not its maternal relative) from the 
top of the kopje, and in sheer desperation had leaped 
down after it, breaking his fall by alighting on 
its body. 

Bidding us good-night, he left us to imagine 


Loot and Lurid Crazes 

what he would have broken had he ahghted off 
its body. 

FeeHng the spirit of contentment hovering o'er 
us, we prepared to turn it. The guns had previously 
been unlimbered and were ready for action, with 
their muzzles pointing to the enemy. Formed up 
in rear were the six gun limbers and six ammuni- 
tion waggons, each with its team of six horses still 
hooked in in case of any emergency. In addition 
were the horses of the single riders, tied by their 
head-ropes to different parts of the carriages, mak- 
ing a total of somewhere about a hundred horses. 

Well, we had comfortably settled down and were 
enjoying our first sleep when the sentries were 
startled by a most unearthly noise from the vicinity 
of the camp. It sounded like a dyspeptic groan 
from a more than ordinarily cavernous stomach. 
The horses pricked up their ears and the sentries 
clutched their carbines tighter as they peered into 
the darkness. Suddenly came the sound again — a 
mournful, melancholy, hair-raising sound. Like a 
flash the whole battery of horses, as though acting 
on a signal, stampeded into the night, taking the 
waggons with them ; over sleeping men they went, 
stopping for no obstacles, overturning guns in their 
mad career, and heading straight for the enemy's 
trenches. The outposts, thinking the Boers were 
trying to break through the lines, opened fire at 
nothing. The Boers, thinking they were attacked, 
did ditto. It was a perfect pandemonium for a few 
minutes. The spiteful spit-puff of the Mauser and 


War's Brighter Side 

sharp crack of the Lee-Metford, the whole blending 
with the cries of the injured and the shouts of the 
men who were trying to stop the runaways, made 
an impression that few who witnessed the scene 
will ever forget. 

We had several more or less severely injured, 
lost about thirty horses and one waggon, besides 
several that were overturned and smashed. 

All this damage was caused by the lowing of an 
old cow who had wandered through the camp seek- 
ing her lost offspring. 

Moral. — Hanker ye after the fleshpots, com- 
mandeer ye not, but buy ! buy ! buy ! 

Note. — Wanted to know — vide the Press report 
of Paardeberg action — Since when has the 82nd 
Battery, R.F.A., become a mule battery? 



(A Song of the Household Brigade) 
It ain*t a fatigue to see him, 

'E's a taller than usual man, 
As 'e struts down the road 'e's as smart as be blowed, 

And 'is swagger would stop Big Ben, 
'E's a fair take-in for the ladies, 

For of course it's a maxim trite 
When a cove's in the Guards, why it's just on the 
'E's a bit of the best All-Right. 


Loot and Lurid Crazes 


Whether 'e wears a 'elmet, 
Or 'airy 'at on 'is nut, 
When all's done and said, 'E is 'Ousehold Brigade, 
Whether 'e's 'Orse or Put. 
(Shouted ad lib.) : THAT'S RIGHT 
Whether 'e's 'Orse or Fut. 


O' course 'e's fond of 'is lady, 

'Is lady she doats on 'im. 
And it's princip'ly that what's the cause of 'er 'at, 

With its feathers and twisted brim. 
When 'e takes 'er out of a Sunday 

She says, " What a lovely sight ! 
Oh ! there isn't a doubt, But I'm walking about 

With a bit of the best Ail-Right." 


And when 'e looks in promisc'ous 
'Taint often the door is shut, 
For she's fond of a mash, with a curly moustache, 
Whether 'e's 'Orse or Fut. 
(As before) : That's Right 
Whether 'e's 'Orse or Fut. 


And then, when the war-clouds gather, 

On Service 'e goes away ; 
And it's " Goodbye, Sal, God bless you, my gal ! " 

And the woman is left to pray. 


War's Brighter Side 

Then whether it's toil and 'ardship, 

Or whether it's march and fight, 
'E's a joker, we know, As is certain to show 

'E's a bit of the best All-Right. 


Whether it's sword or bayonet, 

Whether it's lance or butt, 
'E*s bound to go large When they're sounding the 

Whether 'e's 'Orse or Fut. 

(As before — only more so) : That's Right ! 

Whether 'e's 'Orse or Fut. 


The Cradock Dutch newspaper, the Middcl- 
landsche Afrikaander, says : " Our English con- 
temporaries are greatly mistaken in thinking that 
the war has now virtually ended. The Republicans 
are now going to act on the defensive, and now one 
can expect a deathly struggle. The war has now 
lasted nearly six months, and, however much we 
desire it, there is no prospect of peace as yet." 



In the Shadow of Sanna's Post 

IVc try to Name the New Colony, and describe the 
Kornespruit Fight 

Our ten thousand readers had been invited 
to send in their suggestions for a new name for 
the Free State, and then to express their opin- 
ions upon the names thus suggested. The first 
person to have sent in the name preferred by the 
greater number of readers was to receive five 
guineas, and perhaps the honour of naming a 
new colony of the greater Empire. The names 
suggested by the Army and the Bloemfontein 
readers of The Friend were as follows: — 

Alexandra, Adamantia, Albertia, Altruria, At- 
kinsdom, Aurania, Brand State, Brandesia, British 
South Africa, Britannia, British Colonia, Brands- 
land, Buckland, Burghers' State, Central Colony, 
Centuria, Campania, Carnatia, Cameraria, Chamber- 
lainia, Cecilia, Crucipatria, Colonia, Cisvaal, Closer 
Union, Conquered Territories. Crown State, Cen- 
tralia, Capricornia, Cilionia, Concordia, Diamond 


War's Brighter Side 

Colony, Diadem State, Empire State, Esicia, Em- 
pressland, Frere State, Fonteinland, Fonteinia, Freer 
State, Frereland, Federalia, Filia State, Federaldom, 
Grassland, Gariep Sovereignty, Guelfland, Helenia, 
Immigratia, Imperial Orange Colony, Imperia, 
Jubileeland, Kandaharia, Khaki State, Khakiland, 
Kopjesia, Lanceria, Leonida, Marchland, Mimosa- 
land, Malaria, Milneria, Midland, Middle Colony, 
Mid-South Africa, Modrieta, New Ireland, New 
Alexandria, New Victoria, North Cape Colony, 
New Albion, New Era, New Canada, New Colony, 
New Rietana, Northern Province, New Gualia, New 
Victoria, New Edward's Land, New Egypt, Orange 
State, Orange, Orangia, Orangeland, Orange Col- 
ony, Orange Sovereignty, Provincia, Pasturia, Pas- 
toria, Queen's Free State, Robertsland, Rietania, 
Robertesia, Robertsin, Robertina, Robertonia, Rob- 
ertshire, Roberterre, Roberton, Robersdale, Robert- 
sia, Robiana, Robermain, Reconquered Land, Re- 
gina Land, Stellaland, Stellarland, Sylvania, Suze- 
rainia, Steyn's Folly, Salisbury, Tableland, Trans 
Garep, Transgarepian Territory, Trans Orange, 
Uitland, Union Era, United British Empire, Union 
State, U.S. South Africa, Victory, Victorialand, Vic- 
toria Robertsia, Victoriafontein, Veldtland, Veldt. 

The voting closed on April 7th, and on April 
9th we announced that the name Brandesia, hon- 
ouring a late President of the State, an upright 
man and a friend of Great Britain, had secured by 
far the greater number of votes. Taking the 

In the Shadow of Sanna's Post 

whole vote, and separating from it the votes for 
those names which were formed upon or out of 
the name of Roberts, it was seen that the desire 
of the Army to honour its Chief was stronger 
than the expression of the Free Staters in re- 
membrance of President Brand. But " Bran- 
desia " secured the most votes, and Mr. P. 
Johnson, whom we were not able to discover 
afterwards, won the five guineas. Private W. 
Cooper, H Company, 5th Regiment of Mounted 
Infantry, won the two-guinea prize for guessing 
nearest to the five names that secured the great- 
est number of votes. Now that the Govern- 
ment has named the country " The Orange 
River Colony " we see that whoever sent in the 
name " Orange Colony " really deserved the 
most of whatever credit goes with guessing 

Coming upon Mr. J^mes' clear and accurate 
account of the Corne Drift (Kornespruit or 
Sanna's Post) ambuscade reminds me of how the 
heroic survivors of that red-hot fight drifted 
back to town, drifted into the hotel dining- 
rooms — actually drifted into my bedroom in the 
case of Colonel Pilcher — and I missed the chance 
at the time of looking at them with eyes that saw 
the hell they had been through; without the 
understanding by which I could measure their 


War's Brighter Side 

There had been a fight at the Waterworks, 
and we had been beaten, and had suffered a 
shocking loss of men and guns — that was all that 
most of us knew on the Sunday that followed the 
fighting on Saturday, March 31st. Afterwards 
I saw a score of the dare-devils who had squeezed 
out between the fingers of Death's clenched 
hands, and I made the fight my most serious 
study in the war — but I missed the chance of see- 
ing it for myself, and then I lost the glow of 
knowing what I looked at when I saw the sur- 
vivors come in. 

Mr. Gwynne went out to the scene and 
caught a glimpse of the end of it. As there 
is no living correspondent better equipped to 
judge events in war, and as it is the pride of more 
than one general to obtain his views and ac- 
counts of the actions he witnesses, I will quote a 
bit of his editorial of April 5th, in which he 
touches upon the Sauna's Post affair: " Perhaps 
never in the history of British campaigns have 
our soldiers shown more splendid courage, more 
dogged resistance and greater coolness. Gen- 
eral Broadwood has covered himself with glory 
by the masterly way in which he extricated his 
little force from a veritable death-trap. And 
who is there who can pay adequate tribute to the 
behaviour of our gunners, and the gallant band 
of British soldiers who held off a greatly superior 

In the Shadow of Sanna's Post 

force under most difficult and trying circum- 
stances? " 

It was while Mr. Gwynne was at the scene 
that a Boer suddenly appeared and advanced 
toward him unarmed like himself; indeed, Mr. 
Gwynne believes the man was a war correspond- 
ent. The two talked of the fight: " Your peo- 
ple showed wonderful courage," said the Boer; 
" we thought we had bagged your whole force. 
I am bound to say that had the Boers been in 
such a tight place they would have surrendered." 


" The following is a literal translation of a getitiine Boer 
document recently discovered. It has been forwarded to us for 
publication by an officer of the Intelligence Department, to whom 
we tender our best thanks." 

Observations on the Present War 

by captain i. d. 

{A Translation) 

In order to form an opinion on the manner of 
operations of both hostile parties, at present or in 
the future, it is necessary, as far as possible, to 
endeavour to obtain an understanding of the differ- 
ent properties and conditions of both belligerents. 

From a physical point of view, the Boer stands 
far above his enemy in respect to bodily strength 
and perseverance. 


War's Brighter Side 

He inherits from his Teuton ancestor a quiet and 
patient nature, coupled with a strong frame, which 
makes him less liable to be affected by troubles and 
loss of spirit under the continued strains which are 
inseparable from the campaign, while the Huguenot 
blood which flows through his veins continually 
gives him fresh power and energy, which is much 
in his favour in a final attack; further he is filled 
with an unlimited faith in his God and the assurance 
of the righteousness of his cause, which fills him 
with superhuman strength and lion-like courage. 

Open-air life has given him a clearness of sight, 
and perseverance which is probably without equal in 
the world's history, while his monotonous life is the 
cause that he, though a lower member of the force, 
can act independently. By lack of discipline and 
organisation, his movements are sometimes clumsy, 
which, however, tends to his benefit in an uneven 
field, and taken altogether are little to his detri- 
ment, as he is not bound by special rules respect- 
ing formation or otherwise. In contrast, the British 
troops are (notwithstanding there may be many 
brave soldiers found among them) on account of 
their organisation and equipment, &c., little adapted 
to keep up their heads against the mental and bodily 
strain of a continued and wearisome war. 

They are mostly obtained out of cities and towns, 
which leaves much to be wished for in their clear- 
ness of sight, steadiness of arm, and power of self- 
reliance, while the discipline, organisation, rules and 
directions to which they must hold weaken them 


In the Shadow of Sanna*s Post 

more, so that they are merely tools, standing under 
their officers' commands, of a fighting machine. 
The officers in many instances are young and with- 
out experience, and mentally and bodily unfit to fulfil 
their serious and responsible duties, chosen to be 
officers not for their ability, or natural talent, but 
because they are sons of the noble, or of the re- 
spected of the land. 

It is, however, not intended here, by any means, 
to throw the blame on the valour of the officers 
or men. 

When the nature of both armies is considered, 
one comes to the conclusion that the British troops 
all gain an advantage in an attack on equal ground, 
if a strong force is used in it, while the Boers will 
obtain one in case there are fewer attackers brought 
into the field. The English will benefit by defend- 
ing, especially if time be given them to build de- 
fences, and also where towns and camps must 
be held. 

Over hilly and uneven ground the Boer has by 
far the best chance to attack, while in an eventual 
defence he has everything in his favour, and is prac- 
tically not to be got at. 

The British authorities have apparently too 
much trust in the result of their Artillery. It is plain 
that they cherish the idea that it will have a de- 
moralising effect on the Boers, and therein they have 
fortunately been mistaken. They did not calculate 
that the eflfect could not be so great on scattered 
troops, and that the result cannot be equal to the ex- 

26 383 

War's Brighter Side 

penditure and difficulties of transport. On the other 
hand, the Artillery of the Boers necessarily has a 
powerful result on troops which, like the British, are 
formed in close order, notwithstanding, according to 
the ideas of the writer of this, enough use is not 
made of " black gunpowder " with a view to find 
the distances by trial shots with that powder, to be 
afterwards followed by burstable shells with " time 
fuse " to produce great destruction. 

As the ground is mostly soft, shells which burst 
on impact, so-called percussion shells, cannot mostly 
be used with favourable results, except under special 
circumstances. To bombard camps or towns " cor- 
dite " or " melanite " should not be used, as both 
explosives contain no inflammable properties, which 
are so necessary to set houses, waggons, forage, 
&c., on fire. 

The greatest care should be taken that the 
mounted Boers should not be exposed in the open 
plain to the attacks of the enemy's cavalry, unless 
they are protected by quick-firing Maxim-Vickers 
guns and shells, seeing that the British Cavalry have 
a great advantage at short distances in the use of 
lances, swords and pistols. 

It is highly desirable that the Boer commandos 
should not be accompanied by many commissariat 
waggons laden with provision, tents and other 
things, as they tend to hinder them, and prevent 
their executing quick movements. 

In calculating the chances in this war, it has 
always been considered that the Boers have their 


In the Shadow of Sanna's Post 

greatest advantag-e in being independent of com- 
missariat transport, and although provision must be 
made to be in touch with certain points with the 
necessary provision for the commissariat, these, not- 
withstanding, must be viewed as items wherewith, 
considering the great interests at stake, too much 
care is not needed to be taken. 

On this ground the British troops are far ahead 
of the Boers, on account of their proper organisa- 
tion, and it is indeed to be regretted that a Hke de- 
partment has not been established, especially as the 
Boers would be specially fitted for it, and have up to 
this time made so little use of their talent in this 
direction. Herein a serious instance is brought as 
an example, namely, the fact that the English troops 
could retreat in order from Dundee, without its 
being directly known. Also the disaster at Elands- 
laagte must be ascribed thereto, where small isolated 
troops, consisting of a mixed commando, were sur- 
rounded in positions not advantageous to their mode 
of warfare, and, even had our troops at that place 
been in a defensible position, they were " not in 
touch " with other troops, who could hasten to their 

As to plans which are reckoned to be the best 
to obtain the victory for the Republican arms, it is 
an axiom that the deeper one penetrates into an 
enemy's country, the more one's power is weakened 
by the necessity for keeping up communication, but 
there is an exception to every rule, and this war at 
the present time makes the exception. The Boer 


War's Brighter Side 

forces strengthened their resources, instead of weak- 
ening them, by their invasion of Natal and of the 
Cape Colony. A great proportion of the inhabitants 
of these Colonies are friendly, and they will thus 
always keep communication open, even when they 
take no active part in warlike operations. Taking 
this as granted, the conclusion is arrived at that the 
whole design of the Republican commanders should 
be to push their troops as far as possible, until they 
reach a war basis or boundary line. 

Our Governments employ too many troops for 
Bechuanaland and Rhodesia without obtaining 
benefit therefrom. A picked commando of i,ooo 
men would possibly be sufficient to keep control 
over Mashonaland, while 1,500 at Mafeking would 
suffice to cut off the Bulawayo division, and in that 
case the troops which are now occupied about 
yMafeking and Kimberley could be better employed 
and with likelihood of good results, by being pushed 
South. If a sufficient number of men are left be- 
hind to dispute an eventual sortie from Kimberley 
and Mafeking, there is little benefit obtainable in the 
investment of towns which probably can hold out 
six or eight months. As long as they are well 
watched they cannot do much harm. 

Much more could have been gained in Natal 
immediately after the Imperial troops were sur- 
rounded at Lady smith, by sending a strong com- 
mando at once to the " Town Hill " at Pietermaritz- 
burg, and if that commando was not strong enough 
to offer resistance, on retirement it could have 


In the Shadow of Sanna's Post 

broken up the railway, and thereby the siege of 
Ladysmith, which is now being prosecuted, would 
have been a shorter and less troublesome task. 

It appears that the Boer forces have not directed 
their attention to making a series of attacks in the 
night. For such a purpose their troops are specially 
adapted, and the result on the enemy would cer- 
tainly be terrible, as the loss of sleep would weary 
them bodily as well as mentally. A certain number 
of men could be picked to trouble the enemy every 
night ; for instance, 500 men at Ladysmith, 100 at 
Mafeking, and 250 at Kimberley, without doing that 
injury to the Republican troops which would tend 
to weaken the command of British officers, and 
make the men grumble and dissatisfied, even if the 
number in killed and wounded was not especially 
great. There should also be, when British troops 
are marching, a division of picked sharpshooters 
to be used in attacking them on the flanks, without 
much damage to the Republican troops, while doing 
much damage to the enemy. The killing of a mule 
or ox belonging to a waggon or gun necessitates 
delay and inconvenience. 

Under ordinary circumstances, this war will 
necessarily continue some time, possibly even over 
a year, and seeing that there is such a number of 
burghers commandeered, it would be well if the 
authorities could arrange a plan to relieve them, say, 
for instance, ten in each month per hundred. Some 
men of every commando will be desirous to visit 
their relations in case of sickness, or to rest, or to 


War's Brighter Side 

attend to private matters. When not relieved it may 
be that the men may become Hstless and dissatisfied ; 
while the force will not be appreciably weakened by 
the absence of lo per cent., such a rule would be 
pleasing to the burghers, and in every sense satisfy- 
ing to their officers. 



II. Come Drift 

The outline of the history of Colonel Broad- 
wood's column appears to be as follows : When 
Colonel Pilcher made his dash for Ladybrand, the 
place was found teeming with the enemy. In fact, 
when the Landdrost was carried away, fire was 
opened on the abducting cortege from the very 
garden gates of professed loyalists. The whole 
country-side was so disturbed that it was time for 
the little column holding Thaba 'Nchu to fall back 
upon Bloemfontein. Information was despatched 
to headquarters and reinforcements urgently asked 
for. When commenced, the march from Thaba 
'Nchu became virtually a pursuit. The enemy were 
reported on the flanks and rear of the column all 
through Friday, March 30. 

On Friday night the column arrived at a camp 
this side of the Modder, about two miles distant 
from the Water-works. The actual rear-guard was 
not into camp until after 2 a.m. on Saturday. So 


In the Shadow of Sanna's Post 

anxious was Colonel Broadvvood for the safety of 
his column that he determined upon a start before 
daylight. At 6 a.m. the enemy opened on the camp 
with rifie fire. The order was immediately given for 
the force to stand to their horses, and in a quarter of 
an hour the head of the transport column was lead- 
ing out of camp. At 7 a.m. " U " and " Q " batteries 
R.H.A. moved off in battery column, following the 
transport. Roberts' Horse, in fours, moved parallel 
to them on their left. 

About three miles from the camp the road 
crosses a drift known locally as Corne Drift. The 
approach to this is peculiar. The actual crossing 
practically lies in the apex of a triangle, the two sides 
of which are formed by a railway embankment under 
construction and a bush-grown donga. Opposite 
the drift is a farm-house and some rising ground 
commanding, not only the drift itself, but all the 
approaches. This drift the enemy had occupied 
before daylight, and here they lay in ambush for the 
advancing column. 

Their dispositions were most perfect, as the head 
of the column marched right into their arms, and 
they were able to take possession of the transport 
without a warning shot being fired. When " U " 
Battery, which was leading, arrived at the drift it 
found that it was surrounded by dismounted enemy. 
The spokesman called upon the gunners to sur- 
render. They told the drivers that they might dis- 
mount and keep their coats. The surprise was abso- 
lute. Major Taylor commanding the battery man- 


War's Brighter Side 

aged to warn " Q" Battery. Then the ruse was 
" up " — as soon as the enemy saw this they opened 
fire from all their points of vantage. From the 
rising ground, from the cover of the donga and 
from between the wheels of the captured guns and 
waggons. As soon as the firing opened, the teams 
of the captured battery stampeded and added to the 
general chaos of the moment. 

Under a blaze of fire, four guns of " Q " Battery 
and one of " U " trotted clear, and came into action 
about a thousand yards away at the tin buildings 
which are destined to be the Corne Drift Railway 
Station. A few seconds later Roberts' Horse rallied 
upon them. But here the nucleus of the front was 
formed which saved the whole force from disaster. 

The carnage was ghastly for a few minutes, but 
as the gunners stood devotedly to their pieces and 
Roberts' dismounted troopers commenced to keep 
down the fire, Broadwood was able to form dis- 
positions by which to extricate the force. This was 
done — the British cavalry were sent to clear the 
flank of the donga and, covering each other, the 
mounted infantry corps were able to withdraw after 
the remnants of the batteries had fallen back. 

The action of the gunners was magnificent. In 
the face of a bitter short-range fire they stood to 
their pieces until, of the five gun groups, there were 
only ten men and one officer left unscathed to serve 
the guns. Then with dilapidated teams and manual 
haulage they dragged the battery out of action, only 
to come into action again when Broadwood strained 


In the Shadow of Sanna's Post 

every nerve to regain the baggage and the guns. 
And even while this action was taking place the 
relieving division was only four miles distant. It 
was a sad yet brilliant affair. Sad that the column 
ever fell into the ambush — brilliant in the manner 
in which the force was extricated. 

A Recipe 


The man what writes a poem 

In praise of our Tommy A's 
Ain't got no call to study 

Their manners, nor talk, nor ways, 
'E's only to fake up something 

What Barracky — more or less — 
And civilians don't know as it's rubbish and so 

The Ballad's a big success. 

Don't 'ave no truck with the drill-book — 

You might get a bit at fault, 
It's best to confine your attentions 

To simple commands, like " 'Alt " ; 
For a 'aporth of 'Industanie 

And a pennorth of Sergeants' mess, 
(Though the meanin's all wrong) is enough for 
a song 

To make it a big success. 


War's Brighter Side 

If you wants to say anything coarse-like, 

Well, say it out plain, don't 'int, 
And fill each line with expletives 

As don't look pretty in print — 
If you sneers at the " Widow of Windsor," 

And laughs at 'er soldiers' dress. 
And connects the word " 'EU" with an orficer, well, 

Your ballad's a big success. 

Take the slang of the camp 

( Whafs easy to vamp) 
And some delicate soldier wheeze, 

Call the Guard-room the " Clink" 

And describe any drink 
As a " Fall in" or " Stand at ease "y 

Then you mix the 'ole lot 

And you serve it up 'ot ; 
From ingredients sich as these 

Form that singular salad 

A Barrack-room Ballad 
In Rudyardkiplingese. 


BY W. T. R. 

Being among a group of Australians the other 
day, I noticed them watching the Guards drill, and, 
as they seemed to be interested, I thought it a good 
opportunity of getting their ideas of Thomas Atkins. 
With the object in view, I engaged one of them in 
conversation. I ventured a remark on the drill. 

" Oh, yes, they drill all right," said the Austra- 


In the Shadow of Sanna*s Post 

lian, " but you see they get a bit too much ot it, I 
think ; I mean as regards the goose-step business. 
You know, we AustraHans," he went on, " never 
have too much of that. It may give a man more 
steadiness in marching on parade, but we don't have 
many show parades during the year. Queen's Birth- 
day being the most important." 

" How often do you drill there ? " I asked. 

" Well, you see — of course I'm speaking of New 
South Wales. There we have about twenty-five half 
day drills during the year. These take place on a 
Saturday afternoon. Out of these they take sixteen 
and give us an encampment at Easter. It is at this 
encampment that we receive the most good as re- 
gards learning our work. I was almost forgetting 
the annual Musketry Course, when we get through 
our firing. Of course, we have plenty of firing 
practice on our other parades as well." 

" How did you chaps come to be sent to Africa ?" 
I asked. 

" Oh ! we all volunteered," he replied, " and a 
great job they had of it in selecting the men to 
come. So many wanted to come and so many were 
disappointed, and I can tell you that if they would 
only send them, there's thousands who would come. 
Why, to give you an idea of it, do you know there 
are men in the ranks who are worth thousands, and 
some of the highest families are represented in the 
war in the ranks ? " 

" How do you get on with the soldiers from 
home?" . 


War's Brighter Side 

" Oh, we get on first-class ; but what we would 
like is more opportunity of mixing with them and 
becoming better acquainted. You see, there's so 
much work to be done that we don't get a chance 
to mix together. Down at the Modder where we 
did get a bit chummy, Tommy would have done 
anything for us. He would have given us the shirt 
off his back if we'd wanted it, and we can't help 
liking him, as the song used to say, because you 
can't beat him down. No matter in what circum- 
stances you find him he's always in a good humour 
and ready for what's coming next. You can see 
him in rags that used to be in khaki, and you can 
see him just after he has received his kit-bag and 
he's always the same. He seems to have plenty of 
money and spends it just as readily as if he had 
the Bank of England behind him. But I think if 
you want to see him in one of his happiest moments, 
you want to look at him when he is carrying a bag 
of bread and other treasures out of Bloemfontein." 

" Then you Australians rather like Tommy ? " 
I said. 

" Like him ? Of course we do. We've fought 
alongside of him, and what we want is more of him 
■ — that's all. You know, we want to show the world 
that we are all one, no matter what part of the 
world we Britons come from, and we're going to 
do it, too." 

I was very pleased with my new-found friend and 
his outspoken way, and glad to have got rid of an 
idea that the Colonials didn't take well. to Tommy. 



A Complete Newspaper 

Full of matter no longer a tenth as interesting as 
there and then 

Number 21 of The Friend, dated April 
loth, Ivas a splendid number for Bloemfontein, 
and for the time, yet there is nothing to repro- 
duce except an Australian trooper's poetic 
salute to the eucalyptus, or gum-trees, that he 
recognised as fellow inhabitants of his distant 
land, whence they have been sent to cheer the 
waste places of California, the American plains, 
and all South Africa. 

Three solid columns of the paper were justly 
given up to Mr. KipHng's exposure in the Lon- 
don Titnes of the treasonous element of the Cape 
population, and its relations with those neigh- 
bours who are honest and loyal subjects of the 
Queen and with the army. Two columns of 
" Renter " despatches from abroad, one column 
of similar telegrams from South African points, 
and a notable leader by Mr. Percival Landon on 


War's Brighter Side 

Mr. Kipling's article, made up the contents of 
the reading page. 

Mr. Guthrie, M.P., now required two columns 
of the paper in which to announce the cases and 
parcels he had in hand for the soldiers. The 
railway had just delivered to him live truck- 
loads of those most welcome necessaries and lux- 
uries sent out from home. 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Forces.) 


■J TUESDAY, APRIL lO, 1900. \Oiae Penny. 


The Field-Marshal Commanding in Chief having 
decided that twenty Railway Trucks are to be 
placed at the disposal of the tradesmen of Bloem- 
fontein for the conveyance of food necessaries, it 
is requested that those wishing to take advantage 
thereof will communicate with the Director of Sup- 
plies at his office at the corner of Green Street and 
Douglas Street, between the hours of 2 and 3 
p.m. on Wednesday and Thursday next, nth and 
1 2th inst. 

As the amount of truck accommodation will be 
divided by the Director of Supplies among the 
various applicants, a statement of the Supplies re- 
quired as a first consignment must be submitted. 
When the statements have been received an allot- 
ment will be made among the applicants. 

A Complete Newspaper 


Gum trees ! Here in the Dutchman's land ? 

(You'll lie of a kangaroo) 
Seen them ? — Yes — Well, I'll understand 

The truth when I see them too. 
Lord ! — There they are, by the old brick wall, 

Shiny and green and high. 
Best of the sights we've seen at all 

Is this, to a Cornstalk's eye. 

Back, by the creeks in the far-oflf plains ; 

Over the ranges blue ; 
Out in the West where it never rains ; 

We whispered " good-bye " to you. 
We left you alone on the high clay banks. 

On a fringe round the dry lagoon. 
Where your white trunks gleam by its empty bed 

In the pale, soft summer noon. 

It's carry me back to the Castlereagh, 

Or pack me along to Bourke ; 
On the Wallaby-track to the west of Hay — 

Wherever there's sheds or work. 
It's cattle on camp or colts to brand ; 

It's brumbies about the Peel — 
It's all we've here of our own good land, 

And .this is the way we feel. 

Oh, hurry the show, and give us a lead. 

And march us beyond the Vaal 
For the lambing's near, and the ewes will breed 

And it's close up time to " tail," 


War's Brighter Side 

And we've shearing them, and the wool to load. 
And the ships are at Circ'lar Quay — 

So loot it along the red Veldt road, 
A sight for Oom Paul to see. 

And when we are back on the Murray lands, 

Or up in Mouaro hills. 
You may collar the Fonteins, and Drifts, and Rands, 

And the Boers will pay the bills. 
But we'll be back where the gum-tops wane, 

Or the Myall hangs and droops ; 
With a good veranda round the house, 

And none of your dirty stoops. 

So hurry it up, for we've work to do 

In a far better land than here. 
We will swap the veldt and the parched Karoo, 

For the plain and ranges clear. 
But we'll never forget, in the days to come, 

The friends that we've left behind — 
For the Dutchman who planted yon tall, white Gum 

Was a little bit more than kind. 

J. H. M. A. 


To the Editors of The Friend, 

Sirs, — In your Saturday's issue an appreciation 
of the R.A.M.C. appears, in which the Morning Post 
correspondent speaks of their services as stretcher- 
bearers at Magersfontein with the Highland Bri- 
gade, whereas the R.A.M.C. has furnished no 


A Complete Newspaper 

stretcher-bearers to the Highland Brigade, the 
whole of this dangerous work having been done 
by the Regimental bearers, and " A " Company 
Volunteer Ambulance (King William's Town), and 
as this company — consisting principally of mere 
striplings — has " faced the music " right through, 
and kept shoulder to shoulder with the veterans 
of the Highland Brigade, they surely should be 
credited with the work they have so gallantly 

Yours very truly, 


27 399 


False Hearts Around Us 

Where only the Women were frank — The art of 
the War Artist 

Miss Bloemfontein was not alone in dis- 
liking to recognise the presence of the British 
army. Her mother was not the only person 
who could not bear to see Englishmen marring 
the scenery of the pest-ridden little town. Even 
while the tricky, two-faced populace was singing 
" Soldiers of the Queen," one man in the crowd 
turned to a war correspondent and said, " You 
English are strutting about very proudly and 
confidently, and think you own the country, but 
when you go away from here you will be sniped 
at from every bush and spruit wherever you 
show yourself." 

I took a little walk up past the English Ca- 
thedral one day and saw a woman seated upon 
her front stoep, sewing. " Good morning," said 
I, "do you speak English?" She rose and 

False Hearts Around Us 

glared at me with scorn in her eyes. " No," 
said she, " but I hate the English." 

A little girl ran out of a doorway a few 
houses farther along and called to me, " Mister, 
mister! Please wear the red, white and blue," 
and she pinned a knot of the British and Ameri- 
can colours on my coat lapel. 

" What sort of a lady is it who lives in that 
house," I asked; "she says she hates the 

" Oh, she is Dutch," the little girl replied; 
" almost everybody here hates you." 

I turned a corner and went down a side- 
street. Two young women in a doorway 
beamed upon me. I was out to study the town 
and the people, so I halted and engaged them in 
conversation. One was married, and her hus- 
band, who was of English stock, had cleverly 
managed to be away when the war broke out, 
after which he found it impossible to return and 
join a Boer commando as he would have had to 
do, being only a poor working man. 

" We are on the police books as English 
sympathisers," said one of the women. " We 
have had to be very careful, as we were warned 
that if we gave further ofTence we would be pun- 
ished. What happened was this: You see the 
town is full of Germans, who have been most 
bitter against the English. We went to the rail- 

War's Brighter Side 

way station when some English prisoners were 
being sent to Pretoria. As the train moved off 
we waved our hands to them and wished them 
better luck. A German saw us do it, and re- 
ported us to the authorities, so we were taken 
up and examined, and had our names put in the 
' black-book.' " 

A score of the honest people of the town who 
had been avowedly true to their English blood, 
which was by no means the case with all the 
British Uitlanders, told me that they suffered 
petty persecution all the time until the town was 
captured. Note what '' Miss Uitlander " said 
in her reply to " Miss Bloemfontein " in The 
Friend of March 26th: — 

The " loving hand " you boast of having ex- 
tended to us has long since been covered by an iron 
glove, the weight of which we have daily been made 
to feel, and to that you must associate the joyful 
flaunting of our colours in your face. His coming 
meant freedom — the sweetest thing in the world 
— to us. 

You called our brothers and sisters cowards as 
they fled your oppression and bitter and openly ex- 
pressed hatred. You threw white feathers into our 
carriages as they passed you by. You loudly be- 
moaned your fate as a woman and longed to don 
masculine garments to aid your beaux in extermi- 
nating the hated English. Could we remember a 
" loving hand " then ? 


False Hearts Around Us 

You were quick to tell us that there would be 
no room for us to live beside you so soon as Mr. 
Englishman was driven back to the sea. The hated 
English had never been wanted, and would not be 
allowed to stay. And since you continue to make 
no secret of your hatred, the same remedy is now in 
your hands. But it will be difficult to find a spot 
where Mr. Englishman is not en evidence. 

Such was Bloemfontein to those who saw 
into its heart and knew its temper. Some of us 
conquerors saw a little way behind the garlanded 
curtain the false-hearted pretenders of friendship 
drew down before our faces, but for what now 
seems a long time the Army fed itself upon the 
honeyed lying of those people who had not the 
courage or honesty to play the part of open 
enemies to the last. As for Tommy Atkins, he 
seemed oblivious of everything but that which 
he enjoyed — which was simply to walk about the 
town spending his money, and taking insults and 
bouquets equally as a matter of course, just as 
they happened to come. 

Let the reader note two things of the first 
interest, and of great human and historic value. 
The persons who did not come out and pretend 
to be our friends were the women. The part of 
the population that did not join in singing " Sol- 
diers of the Queen " was the feminine part. The 
only person who openly and plainly espoused the 

War's Brighter Side 

cause of the Boers was Miss Bloemfontein — a 
woman. The only person who answered her 
and proudly asserted her loyalty to Great Britain 
was Miss Uitlander — a woman. 

Everywhere in every war it is Lovely Woman 
who fans the flames, who urges on the fighting, 
who charges the men to win or die, but never to 
give up; who nurses the hatred of the strife to 
her breast and keeps them hot. Everywhere it 
is the civilised and the savage woman who does 
this, and only the half-civilised have made a con- 
trary record, for I am told that in one strife there 
was an exception. That was " the Mutiny " in 
India, where the ayahs and other Indian female 
servants stuck to their posts in the British house- 
holds, and played no part in the awful affair. 

But in the great Civil War in America it was 
the women who kept the strife in progress fully 
a year and a half, if not two years, after their hus- 
bands and brothers realised it was useless, and 
that the North must win. " Go, and do not 
come back while there is a Yankee alive! " they 
said to sweethearts, sons, and brothers. So has 
it ever been in times of war. The women, 
roused from their quiet lives and excited by the 
animosities which develop war and the horrors 
which go with it, remain undisturbed by the con- 
siderations which cause men, with their wider 
interests and experiences, to waver in their faith. 

False Hearts Around Us 

And among the savage people of the earth 
it is, as a rule, the women who garnish war 
with its most fearful accessories. The bucks 
and braves do the fighting, the women follow 
after them to torture the wounded and mutilate 
the dead. 

Think you that this is a terrible indictment 
of a sex? Do you see in this nothing but the 
anger and the cruelty that lie on the surface? 
Then you are to be pitied, for the moral of these 
reflections is that in womanhood is treasured the 
faith which inspires mankind, the convictions 
that nerve our arms in a world which progresses 
only through strife, the enthusiasm which not 
even the hell of war can destroy. 

The leader of April 14th was my own, en- 
titled " Mr. Lecky on the War." Again we had 
a complete newspaper full of the too-often de- 
layed or strangled Renter despatches, which 
told us of other wars, in Ashantee and the Phil- 
ippines, of the Queen's visit to Ireland, of the 
Prince's narrow escape from an assassin, and of 
all that was going forward in our own little con- 
tention with the Boers. 

This number was singular in containing no 
original verse. It did, however, contain some- 
thing more full of sentiment, and, if possible, 
more unexpected and foreign to war; to wit: a 
notice of a wedding: — 


War's Brighter Side 

By special license, on the nth inst., by the Rev. 
Franklin, at her father's house, Alexandra Cornelia, 
youngest daughter of W. H. v. Van Andel, 
Orphan Master, to Arthur M. Stone, eldest son of 
the late T. C. Stone, Esq., from Folkestone, Eng- 
land. No cards. 

Orange-blossoms are certainly to be looked 
for in the Orange State, but blended with the 
bandages and laurels of war they seem peculiar. 
One cynic asked us when he read the wedding no- 
tice, " Is this prophetic of concord, or is it merely 
strife breaking out in a new place? " He was 
a soulless man — I am sorry I have quoted or 
noticed one so deficient in feeling, poetry, hu- 
manity, and sentiment. 

In furtherance of the knowledge that the 
Army was tired of being fooled, and growing 
weary of the upstart behaviour of the too often 
treacherous negro natives, we published a notice 
by Assistant Provost Marshal Burnett-Hitch- 
cock: " No pass is suf^cient for a native to pass 
through the outpost lines unless countersigned 
by a StafT OfBcer, and it should state where and 
Avhence the native is going." Other rigid re- 
strictions upon the freedom of the negroes are 
enforced by this order. 

The same energetic officer also forbade the 
selling of any article within the town by hawkers 

False Hearts Around Us 

and camp sutlers, under a penalty of fine on 
conviction. This was in order to protect the 
local tradesmen from army competition — those 
tradesmen who barricaded their shops when the 
Boer combatants fled from the town, lest we 
should loot their stores of goods, who then 
calmly told us they put up the barricades because 
*' the Boers were such thieving scoundrels," and 
who, now that they knew our temper only too 
well, regaled us with accounts of how, while they 
were in commando, they had fought us at Bel- 
mont, Graspan, Modder,and a dozen other places. 
We published on this day an article by Mr. H. 
Owen Scott on " The War Artist of To-day," 
in which he, a photographer, seriously extolled 
the work of the camera as compared with that of 
the genius and training of the true artist. We 
hoped the real artists thus relegated to a subor- 
dinate and vanishing place would enliven our 
columns by their replies. 


{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts* Forces^ 

^ , BLOEMFONTETN, ' V Price 

^O- 22J WEDNESDAY, APRIL II. 1900. L One Penny. 


The Bands of the 12th Brigade will play in the 
Market Square this evening between the hours of 
4 and 6. 


War's Brighter Side 


The present circulation of The Friend is 4,750 
copies daily. 


In our modest way as Editors of quite the most 
extraordinary newspaper on earth, we endeavoured 
to publish yesterday, with due credit to the Times, 
for which it was written, Mr. Rudyard Kipling's 
masterly article " The Sin of Witchcraft." We may 
as well acknowledge here and now that though The 
Friend is declared to be edited by a committee of 
war correspondents, it is, in fact, the daily product 
of a struggle between the correspondents and their 
printers, the latter being the more numerous, and, 
we sometimes fear, the more in earnest in their de- 
termination to keep the paper unique. This results 
in a paper which is often as great a novelty to the 
Editors as to the public, being like Shakespeare's 
soldier in " The Seven Stages of Man," ** full of 
strange oaths," and words of which we never heard, 
and ideas to which we never gave birth. 

With this by )yay of preface, will the Times accept 
our apology for not crediting it with Mr. Kipling's 
article, will it believe us that we really did write in 
the " credit " after the article, and will it commission 
its correspondent with this Army to go to our print- 
ing works and reason with our printers from " the 
devil " upwards ? 


False Hearts Around Us 



The present campaign has undoubtedly com- 
menced a new era in the history of illustrated jour- 
nalism, which change has been brought about by a 
new school of war artists, whose method is camera 
work, and whose aim is to faithfully produce the 
actualities demanded by a picture-loving, yet critical 

The artistic value of this means of illustrating 
is becoming more and more realised every day, and 
will prove an effectual factor in crowding out the 
old-fashioned war artist who draws on his imagi- 

The only excuse for artists of any description 
being at the front is their capacity for reproduc- 
ing true and vivid impressions of what they have 

This is where the importance of the new school is 
at once apparent, and as long as the men practising 
this art are honest and do not attempt to foist 
" faked " work on the public, their efforts are bound 
to be acceptable and of artistic value. 

In speaking of camera work as an art and the 
individuals adopting it as artists, I do not include the 
persons who simply press a button and expose yards 
of film, regardless of subject, but the few who make 
pictures intelligently and pay as much attention to 
composition and lighting as a painter would when 
commencing a fresh canvas. The camera is not 

War's Brighter Side 

going to destroy the painter — and I say painter ad- 
visedly — as no black and white artist is any good 
unless he is a painter, and has a keen appreciation of 
colour value. Nature is teeming with colour, and 
unless this is felt how can this be suggested in line? 

Why does Rembrandt stand out as the greatest 
master of etchings? Simply because his etched 
works suggests colour, and it is this power of sug- 
gesting colour that placed Charles Keene head and 
shoulders above all other black and white men. 
The power of selection of subject is not developed 
in all artists to an equal extent, but there is always 
room for such men as Melton Prior, W. B. WoUen, 
Lester Ralph, and a few others, whose work will 
always be looked for as representing actuality. 

If the two schools of artists mentioned work with 
the full knowledge of the limitations of their me- 
diums, there will always be a place for both. 

The mechanical draughtsman is dead. He has 
been killed by the camera. 

How would it be possible in Fleet Street or De 
Aar, quietly sitting in a little room with a north 
light, to give a true impression of Cronje's sur- 
render, or of that wonderful sight, the approach of 
the captured army, like a cloud of locusts, over the 
expanse of veldt at Klip Drift? 

If ever the surrender at Paardeberg is painted, it 
must be done by a man who saw it. 

I shall never forget the defeated General's arrival, 
or the solemnity of it : this giant, broken, sulky, his 
career finished. Everything was shown in the man, 


False Hearts Around Us 

and shown in a way no imagination could possibly 

I was privileged to view a sketch of Cronje leav- 
ing our camp, the work of Mortimer Menpes. It 
was a vivid slight impression. True, yet the econo- 
my of means — a few lines wonderfully placed — was 
wonderful, showing the artist a great master of 
technique. Now, talented as he undoubtedly is, he 
could not have imparted such a feeling of actuality 
to his work if he had not been present and studied 
his subject with the greatest attention. The long- 
haired, velvet-coated gentleman of Bond Street is 
not the man to depict the incidents of war, or to put 
up with the hardships of a great march, and I am 
perfectly sure that the success of a war artist de- 
pends on physique. He is required to tackle his 
subject quickly and vigorously. Trickery does not 
help actuality, straightforward manly work being 
absolutely necessary to the war artist of to-day. 

(We are sure that if the men in this Army who 
are engaged as artists or who feel strongly and lov- 
ingly the relation of true art to war, to photography 
and to the refinement of mankind — if these will take 
the trouble to answer this letter, we shall have a rich 
correspondence. — Editors, Friend.) 



The End Approaches 

We arrange to retire from our posts, but also start 
a Portrait Gallery 

" The Friend," No. 23 — actually the 25th 
number we had edited — contained a notice that 
Mr. Kipling had sailed for England on the pre- 
vious day (April nth), and we were doing our 
vitmost to get rid of our offspring, to find some 
one to adopt it. 

As long ago before this as when Sir Alfred 
Milner was with us in Bloemfontein, we had 
made known to him and to Lord Roberts, 
through Lord Stanley, that the employers of 
certain ones among us were complaining of our 
expending part of their time and our energy 
upon this outside work. I am certain that no 
interest with which any of us were connected 
suffered the least slight or injury, for the result 
of our labour of love for Lord Roberts was sim- 
ply that we worked twice as hard — and learned 

The End Approaches 

twice as much of Nvhat was going on as those 
correspondents who held aloof and let the 
whole burden fall upon us. My employer, Mr. 
Harmsworth, uttered no sound of criticism or 
complaint, by the way, and the only word about 
The Friend that reached me from the Daily 
Mail was a cablegram wishing us success. 

We were all tiring fast. I was lame with an 
injury which kept laying me up, and otherwise 
my condition was such that for weeks I had not 
been able to partake of any food except milk and 
soda water. I owe a great deal for moral and 
physical stimulus to Dr. Kellner, ex-mayor of 
Bloemfontein and head of the Free State Hos- 
pital, whose services to the British army should 
not be allowed to pass into history without his 
receiving some substantial honour and acknowl- 
edgment from this government. He told the 
noble matron, Miss Maud Young, and her nurs- 
ing assistants (when they gave notice that they 
wished to leave at the outbreak of the war) that 
he " never heard before that politics had any- 
thing to do with the care of sick and wounded 
men," and up to that standard of duty he worked 
on with them as enthusiastically under the 
Union Jack as he had under the four-colour flag. 

I did not know how ill and dispirited I was 
until one evening I went to the room of my 
assistant, Mr. Nissen, of the Daily Mail, and 

War's Brighter Side 

heard through his closed window in the Bloem- 
fontein Hotel the sound of a banjo. It is a 
purely American instrument, and the plunk- 
plunk of its strings made my heart leap. I threw 
open the window and heard in nasal tones, 
affected by a Yankee colleague for the purpose 
of his song, a sentiment like this: — 

Oh, I want ter go back to Noo York, 

Ther " denderloin's " ther place. 
Where the men are square and the women are fair 

And I know evurry face. 
I want ter go back to Noo York 

Ter hear God's people talk. 
Yer may say what yer please 

Only just give ter me 
My little old Noo York. 

I felt like shouting, " fellow citizens, them's my 
sentiments." Suddenly I, too, wanted " ter go 
back ter Noo York " — with London as an alter- 
native. I had not known it or felt it before, 
but that song, as new to me as any that will be 
W'ritten five years hence, touched the button that 
produced a nostalgia which Heaven knows I had 
good reason to feel without any such additional 
or peculiar incentive. 

Mr. Landon was also very ill of what I took 
to be a slow African fever. We laid the facts 
before the authorities, and suggested that our 
colleague, Mr. F. W. Buxton, now back at work 
with us, was able to say that the accomplished 

The End Approaches 

staff of the Johannesburg Star would gladly take 
The Friend off our hands if its members could 
be passed up to Bloemfontein on their way to 
Johannesburg. They were all receiving salaries 
though nearly all were idle; the owners had suf- 
fered grievously by the closing of their estab- 
lishment at the outbreak of the war, and they 
certainly deserved well of the British Army. 

With this view our miUtary editorial chiefs 
coincided, and Mr. Buxton busied himself in 
arranging for the coming of the editors, re- 
porters, and printers, and the transfer of the Httle 
organ of the Empire to their charge. 

This number of April 12th began with a 
leader on " The Queen in Ireland," and this was 
followed by a play upon the society notes of 
other papers, written by Mr, Gwynne. Our 
prolific soldier-poet, " Mark Thyme," contrib- 
uted two sets of verses, and once again we pub- 
lished the news of the world, like any genuine 
newspaper at home. 

On this day we printed our first " alleged " 
portrait, No. i of a series of pictures of the 
notable characters in town. We selected Mr. 
Burdett-Coutts as the leading figure in this gal- 
lery, and made a most modest announcement 
that we had secured the portrait and were able 
to present it to our readers. 

I am quite certain that never before in the 
28 415 

War's Brighter Side 

Free State had a newspaper published a portrait 
made on the spot and of a newly arrived visitor. 
There were in the Free State no means for doing 
such work. But such is the non-thinking habit 
of the human race that not a soul questioned 
what we announced, or asked how the feat was 
accomplished. It was declared to be a good 
likeness of Mr. Burdett-Coutts, and every one 
took it for granted that there was nothing The 
Friend and its editors could not do if they tried. 

By kind permission of Lieutenant- General Kelly- 
Kenny, C.B., the massed bands of the 6th Division 
will play on the Market Square from 4 to 5.30 p.m. 
on Easter Monday. 



A most successful dinner was given by Bat- 
tery on Saturday night. The A.S.C. awning was 
most artistically arranged between two buck wag- 
gons and was decorated with much taste, the junior 
subaltern having attached to it the fashion-plates 
and pictorial advertisements from The Queen. The 
" Maggi " soup was pronounced a success, and it 
was evident that the battery chef had put his heart 
into the work. A somewhat unpleasant incident oc- 


The End Approaches 

curred soon after dinner, which put rather a dampet* 
on the evening's hilarity and dispersed the party. 
An order had come for one of the ammunition wag- 
gons to go into Bloemfontein to fetch ammunition, 
and the sergeant, wholly without malice prepense, 
hitched his horses to one of the sides of the dining- 
room and removed it suddenly. We are glad to say 
that the collapse consequent upon this manoeuvre, 
although very disagreeable, produced no injury, and 
the company was able to leave sound in limb but 
swearing strange oaths. 

Horse, always to the fore, whether bullets 

are about or the scarcely less dangerous glances 
of female eyes, entertained at tea yesterday a great 
number of guests of both sexes. It is a pity, how- 
ever, that their camp is so far out of town, for most 
of their gentlemen guests were obliged to walk 
home, having " lost " their horses. 

The Naval Brigade gave a soiree nmsicale on 
Monday night, which was perhaps the most brilliant 
aflfair of the season. The proverbial hilarity of sail- 
ors induced in their guests a corresponding feeling, 
and songs, toasts, speeches made the time pass mer- 
rily enough. A new game, the details of which we 
hope to give in a further issue, was played with great 
success. It is called " Hunt the Tompion." At the 
beginning of the evening Captain Bearcroft, R.N., 
gave a most instructive and bright lecture on the 
" New Tactics — Horse Marines." 

A " small and early " was given yesterday by 
the Royal Diddlesex Regiment. Dancing went on 


War's Brighter Side 

briskly until a transport mule came and died in the 
extemporised ball-room, causing two ladies to faint. 
A conversazione was given by the A.S.C. in their 
camp within the immediate confines of the town. 
The novel subject, " When will the War end? " was 
chosen for discussion. The arguments, which were 
often of a highly intellectual grade, were punctuated 
by sniping from trees and bushes on the kopje side. 
Two of the attendants who were distributing the 
choice and light viands to the guests were shot. 
True, their wounds were slight, yet the incident 
interrupted the even tenor of the conversazione. 



Now, I always was a 'ardly-treated bloke, 

I'm a martyr to my cause, as you may say — 
I used to own a barrer and a moke. 

And I'd sometimes earn a thick-un in the day. 
But them Socialists they comes along our court. 

And they says as 'ow all things should common 
So, to 'elp the cause on quicker, I goes off and lifts 
a ticker, 

'Cause the bloke 'ad no more right to it than me. 

Well, for that I 'ad to do a bit o' time, 
Though I argued it afore the majerstrit 

As I'd done it out o' politics, not crime ; 
But the cuckoo couldn't understand a bit. 

The End Approaches 

So I says when I 'ad left the bloomin' jug, 
" I must strike a bigger blow to set us free ; 

I must play a nobler game." So I forges Roths- 
child's name, 
'Cause the bloke 'ad no more right to it than me. 

Now, living in a 'ouse acrost the street, 

There used to be a very tasty gal ; 
She'd curly 'air and dainty 'ands and feet, 

And was married to my very dearest pal. 
'E says to me, says 'e, " When you're our way 

Step in, old cull, and 'ave a dish o' tea." 
Thinks I, " My dooty this is." So I oflfs it with 'is 

'Cause the bloke 'ad no more right to 'er than me. 

But I won't be beat by any bloomin' lor. 

To 'ave my rights, I tell yer straight, I'm game ; 
And, once I gets outside this prison door, 

I'll strike another blow in Freedom's name — 
The lor and all its engines I defy. 

From the Stepper to the gloomy gallows-tree ; 
I'll go and get a knife, and I'll take some joker's life, 

'Cause the bloke 'as no more right to it than me. 

For my motto is : All should be common to ally 

This covey is equal to that j 
And if I'm short you've no right to be tally 

If I'm thin you've no right to be fat. 
To call me a criminal's fair tommy-rot. 

It's on principle all ivhat I've done : 
Yet, perish me, all the reward as I've got 

Is my number — 201. 


War's Brighter Side 

" SMART " 


{Being a few hints to any of the fair citizens of this town who 
may contemplate spending a season or two in London.) 

Ye Belles of Bloemfontein, pray hearken unto 

And I'll show you how to sparkle in polite So- 
Never fear that you'll be visited with contumely 

or scorn 
If you happen not to be aristocratically born, 
For mere birth is not essential to means, if only 

Have the luck to be related to a brewer or a few ; 
And if only you have money, you need never be 

To swagger of the swindles of your former days of 
And your friends, as they receive you to their 

Each to each will the opinion impart : 
" She is vulgar, I admit, 
I don't like her, not a bit, 
But then you know, my dear, she's smart." 

Your dress must be — well — daring ! You must have 

a tiny waist 
And the colours must be splashed about in execrable 



The End Approaches 

Your bodice may be decent while you've still the gift 

of youth, 
But must lower in proportion as you're longer in the 

The colour of your hair and your complexion must 

To vary with the fashionable fancies of the year, 
And though your wit lack lustre, the tiara must be 

That you've hired out from a jeweller's at ten-and- 
six a night. 
And your friends, as they receive you to their 

Each to each will the opinion impart : 
" Looks quite odd, I must admit, 
I don't like her, not a bit, 
But then you know, my dear, she's smart." 

Then, as to conversation, let each syllable you speak 
Be vehemently vapid or else pruriently weak ; 
Tell some tales distinctly risky, if not actually 

While artfully pretending that you don't know what 

they mean. 
In the intervals of slander you must prate in flippant 

On some Theologic subject that you'd better leave 

alone ; 
And, though your speech be witless, nay, to some 

may seem absurd, 
It matters not if reputations die at every word. 

War's Brighter Side 

And your friends, as they receive you to their 

Each to each will the opinion impart : 

" She's ill-natured, I admit, 

I don't like her, not a bit, 
But then you know, my dear, she's smart." 

Your parties must be " tidy," so to bring about these 

Find some lady with a title who likes living on her 

friends ; 
Hint that you'll supply the money that's essential to 

the task, 
If only she will condescend to tell you whom to ask. 
On your former friends and relatives politely close 

the door, 
Though they may have been of service in the days 

when you were poor, 
Be each guest of yours a beauty, full of pride, 
A tiara on her head, a co-respondent by her side. 
And your friends, as they receive you to their 

Each to each will the opinion impart : 
" She's a snob, I quite admit, 
I don't like her, not a bit. 
But then you know, my dear, she's smart." 


We have to announce the arrival in Bloemfontein 

of Mr. Burdett-Coutts, of London, of whom we have 

secured a portrait which we present to our readers. 


Mr. Burdett-Coutts. 


Wanted, a Millionaire 

A number as sparkling as a string of jewels — Joke 
Portrait Number Two 

A singular thing about The Friend was 
that the readers could make sure at a glance, 
each afternoon, what had been the spirits of the 
editors earlier in the day. The issue of April 
13th was positively frisky. We were all in our 
gayest moods, and the principal page was made 
to sparkle with most unlooked-for fun and 
flashes of wit. 

Mr. Landon set out with his pen in search 
of an English millionaire who would supply us 
daily with a budget of home news cabled direct 
to us from London. Continually disappointed 
by the non-arrival of the Reuter despatches, he 
urged that som.e wealthy man should pay to have 
a long special cablegram sent to us daily, with a 
hint of all the world's happenings. " To us," 
did I say? no; for, as Mr. Landon expressed it, 
" All there is of The Friend belongs to the 

War's Brighter Side 

Army. Its existence began for the soldier, and 
its profits pass back to his interests. If some of 
the kind-hearted people in England who are so 
ready to put their hands in their pockets in the 
interests of ' The Soldiers of the Queen,' only 
knew what the dearth of news from England 
means to the men, they would at once supply the 
want." It is too late now. That editorial 
never was copied in the English papers, I sup- 
pose; but you millionaires who want to reach 
Heaven — and you others who want to earn 
handles to put before your names — remember 
this in the next war, and send news to your army 
wherever it is halted in the field. 

We found that the newsboys were charging 
twopence for The Friend, and that many com- 
plaints were pouring in upon us; therefore, in 
the blackest type, I rhymed to the readers — that 
being the most likely way to impress them with 
the truth — in couplets such as this — 

Who pays a penny for The Friend, 
Pays all he needs to gain his end. 

and this — 

Whoever pays us more than a penny, 
Should guard his brains, if he has any. 

Fancy me dropping into rhyme! But as I 
have said, " The Tommies " all did verse— or 
w^orse — and the example was epidemically conta- 
gious. Perhaps in another month we should 


Wanted, a Millionaire 

have all turned versifiers, and produced copies of 
The Friend wholly in rhyme. 

In this number we published portrait No. 2 
of our unique gallery, selecting Lord Stanley as 
the subject. My son Lester had made a cartoon 
in which he figured, and with which, for a very 
peculiar reason, Lord Stanley was not pleased, 
but this second venture of the family to do him 
justice in portraiture was eminently successful. 
It was precisely the same picture as that which 
we called a portrait of Burdett-Coutts on the 
previous day, but though Lord Stanley knew the 
joke no one else saw it. One of our gifted cen- 
sor's most intimate friends took from me a damp 
fresh copy of the paper, as I came out of the 
works with an armful, and looking at the portrait 
remarked, " I say, I did not know that Lord 
Stanley had a goatee — funny I never noticed 
that he wears one. Devilish good portrait; 
clever of you to publish it." Mr. Burdett- 
Coutts was the only other man beside Lord 
Stanley to understand what we were doing. He 
fathomed the joke because we explained it to 
him, but I am a little afraid that he did not 
appreciate the pure fun and harmless pleasantry 
of the spirit in which it was conceived and car- 
ried out. 

We had. from a coloured man, a letter com- 
plaining that he had seen that we declared a part 

War's Brighter Side 

of the British policy to be " equal rights for all 
white men, without respect of race or creed." 
To this he objected — as coloured men are apt to 
do to any provision short of the best in their be- 
half, the world around. He said that we were 
advocating the policy of the RepubHcs, and 
added, " I would like to point out to you that 
when once your policy is known in this colony 
by our people it will cause universal dissatisfac- 
tion." If I could show the English reader a few 
pictures of his people as we saw them, clothed in 
their complexions, living in huts made of twigs 
and matting, and only unhappy when they ab- 
sorbed the monstrous notion of their abihty to 
leap from savagery to equal rights with ultra- 
civilised people, then the reader would know 
what it would otherwise require an especial book 
to tell him. 

We did succeed in arousing an artist to de- 
fend his calling against the boasts of the mechan- 
ical manipulation of the camera. Mr. W. B. Wol- 
len, R.I., was the champion of art, and he spoke 
for it with the ardour of conviction, and the force 
of one who is right and cannot be gainsaid. 

I cannot think why we omitted to call upon 
Mortimer Menpes, Esq., the distinguished paint- 
er, then in Bloemfontein, to add his views to the 
series of letters we hoped to secure upon this sub- 
ject, the Camera v. Art. Mr. Menpes had come 

Wanted, a Millionaire 

to the war because, he said, nothing else was 
talked or thought of in London and an exhibi- 
tion of paintings of ordinary subjects such as 
he gives with distinguished success each year, 
would have fallen flat. He was very busy, very 
popular, and very successful with the army. 
This issue (April 13) contained a witty letter by 
him upon the postage stamp craze. 

Price : 
One Penny. 


Price : 
One Penny. 

{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts^ Forces^ 



On the recent retirement of the enemy to the 
north of the Orange River, the rebels who had 
joined them in the Northern Districts of Cape Col- 
ony were treated by Her Majesty's Government 
with great leniency in being permitted, if not the 
ringleaders of disaflfection, to return to their farms 
on the condition of surrendering their arms and of 
being Hable to be called to account for their past 

I now warn the inhabitants of the Northern Dis- 
tricts, and more particularly those who were mis- 

War's Brighter Side 

guided enough to join or assist the enemy, that, in 
the event of their committing any further act of 
hostihty against Her Majesty, they will be treated, 
as regards both their persons and property, with 
the utmost rigour, and the extreme penalties of 
Martial Law will be enforced against them. 
Roberts, Field Marshal, 

Commander-in-Chief, South Africa. 
Army Headquarters, Bloemfontein, April 9, 1900. 

It is with great pleasure that we present to our 
readers to-day a portrait of Lord Stanley, the pres- 
ent popular Press Censor with Lord Roberts' Field 
Force in South Africa. The portrait is by W. B. 
Wollen, R.I., and is a masterpiece. We like it, but 
we are surprised that the censor should wear pre- 
cisely such an antediluvian collar as we saw on 
Mr. Burdett-Coutts in yesterday's view of our Por- 
trait Gallery. 



yi Screaming Farce now being played daily with great success in 
the Theatre of War near Bloemfontein. 

Characters : 

1. Jacobus Johannes van der Mauser (The 
absent-bodied Burgher). 

2. Katinka van der Mauser (His Wife). 

3. Reginald Talbot de Vere-Crgesus (Eng- 
lish Cavalry Officer). 


Wanted, a Millionaire 

Scene: A Farm in the Free State. Pony sad- 
dled at the door. J. J. van der Mauser prepar- 
ing to mount. 

J. J. VAN DER Mauser {Centre of Stage). Ka- 
tinka ! Katinka ! Bring me the old rifle that is in 
the barn among the sheep-skins. The old muzzle- 
loading Boer rifle, with which my ancestor, the 
great Tenbritches van der Mauser shot the lion in 
the days of the Great Trek. 

Katinka : Nay, Jan ! Pause and reflect ! 'Twill 
blow thy head off. It has not been fired these 
thirty years. 

Jan : Nay, woman ! I purpose not to fire it. I 
intend to hand it in to the British — I only wish 
they'd try to let it off ! Then will I return speedily, 
provided with a pass, and go into the laager to do 
a little Rooinek shooting. While I am gone, Ka- 
tinka, be not afraid. The English will put a sentry 
on the farm so that not a blade of grass shall be 
touched, not an onion taken from the ground. Be 
diligent, and sell them all the butter you can. 

Katinka : The proclamation says the price of 
butter is to be two-and-sixpence a pound ! 

Jan : Then don't take a penny less than three 
shillings and sixpence. If you run short of milk, 
drive in the cows of our neighbour Smith, who has 
fled to the English. And Katinka (zvhispers tender- 
ly), if you see the Rooineks out in the open, don't 
stand anywhere near them, darling! You might 
get hit! You understand? Now, farewell! 

{Proceeds to pull on an extra pair of breeches, and 

War's Brighter Side 

so goes off to the laager, while the band plays " My dear 
old Dutch.") 

[Interval of some days, during which the British 
encamp near the farm, and Katinka sells them, at 
famine prices, every drop of milk and every pound 
of butter that the cows will yield, and every ^g^ that 
the hens can be induced to lay.] 

The open veldt. Row of kopjes in the middle 
distance. Enter cavalry patrol with Reginald Talbot 
Vere-Croesus at their head. (Band playing, " Let 
'em all come.") 

First Soldier : I thought I heard a rifle shot. 

Reginald Talbot de V.-C. : Nay. 'Twas but a 
soldier being shot for stealing a bar of soap from an 
enemy's cottage. Serve the miscreant right. Take 
open order, there. Walk, march ! 

They ride round the stage with one eye on the kopjes 
and the other admiring the fit of their breeches. Rifle 
shots are heard from the kopjes. Band changes to, " You 
never knoiv your Luck ! ' ' Heavy rattle of musketry 
from kopjes. Patrol driven back and retire to pom-pom 
accompanitfient from the big drum. R. T. de Y.-C falls 
prone from his charger. Katinka rushes in (^*nue") 
weeping hysterically and throws herself on his body. 

Enter Jacobus Johannes van der Mauser 
(/.^.), and leans on his rifle, staring gloomily at the 

Jacobus : Ha ! ha ! So it has come to this ! She 
secretly loves the young EngHsh officer who re- 

Wanted, a Millionaire 

connoitres kopjes with an eye-glass ! (Sticks his 
chin out, claws the air and ambles about the stage a 
la Henry Irving.) But I will be revenged! Ha! 
ha! I have it! I will go and join the Johannes- 
burg police ! False woman, what sayest thou ? 

Katinka {hysterically) : I am innocent, Johannes. 
I am innocent! {Coils herself round the body of 
R. T. de V.-C. a la Sarah Bernhardt.) 

Jacobus: Innocent! Then why weepest thou? 

Katinka {rising suddenly) : Weep ! I should 
think I would weep. Didn't he owe us three pound 
seventeen and sixpence for milk ! How am I to 
make the dairy pay if you persist in shooting my 
best customers ? 

(Jacobus embraces her. Reginald Talbot de 
Vere-Crcesus being, fortunately, shot exactly through 
the head with a Mauser bullet, recovers at once and em- 
braces her also, and Joins in a song-and-dance trio, ^^ Be 
careful what you're doing with the gun," and the curtain 
falls to the tune of, " It mustn't occur again.") 

Note. — This farce will be continued till further 
orders. A. B. P. 


To the Editors of The Friend, — Sirs, — The 
present campaign has most decidedly, as your corre- 
spondent in The Friend of the nth says, com- 
menced a new era in the history of illustrated jour- 
nalism, but not to the extent that he thinks. 

The camera and the pencil can, and will, live 

29 431 

War's Brighter Side 

together during a campaign, but I venture to doubt 
if the camera will be able to do all that its champion 
claims for it, and the war artist who knows his busi- 
ness, which cannot be learnt in a single campaign, 
will come out on top. For reproducing and putting 
before the public scenes representing the strife and 
clamour of war, with its accompanying noise and 
confusion, the man with the kodak cannot compete 
for one single moment with the individual who is 
using the pencil. 

How can he produce a picture that will show 
the public at large anything like an accurate bird's- 
eye view of what a modern battle is like ? The brain 
of the camera cannot take in all that is going on. 
The man with the pencil does so. A few lines to 
indicate the back-ground and the characteristics of 
it, and he is able to put before the world what has 
taken place, that is if he knows and has seen what 
troops have been doing. 

In another paragraph there is a sentence which is 
a very unjust reflection upon " the old-fashioned 
war artists, who draw on their imagination." I 
should very much like to know who the old-fash- 
ioned war artists can be who are referred to in this 
manner. The few men who are still alive, and there 
never were many of them, are all men who have 
seen a large amount of fighting, have sketched and 
worked under fire, sent their work home often under 
enormous difficulties, and been in very many tight 
places. Why should these men be referred to in 
this way? 


Wanted, a Millionaire 

I suppose there has not been one single cam- 
paign in which the camera has been in such frequent 
use, but is it possible, by this means, to bring before 
us the various phases of a battle — a modern battle, 
I mean, with its absence of smoke, enormous ex- 
panse of front and general invisibility of both the 
attackers and defenders? Take a battery in action. 
Can it show us the excitement and turmoil round 
the guns, will it show us (unless it is a cinemato- 
graph) the trouble amongst the teams when a shell 
drops near them? I think not. What it can do, 
and does, is scenes which are more or less peaceful, 
such as camp views, incidents in regimental life 
and also bits on the line of march, but of an action 
— no! None of us artists are at variance with Mr. 
Scott in other parts of his very able letter, and we 
cordially welcome the camera artist, knowing very 
well that he has his field of work in which we cannot 
hope to compete with him for a moment, but to put 
the camera, which, after all, is only a very fine piece 
of mechanism, on a par with a sketch is more than 
most people can put up with, especially 

Yours very faithfully, 


To the Editors of The Friend, — Sirs, — Is this a 
chestnut ? Johannes Paulus Kruger sent a commis- 
sioner home to England to find out if there were 
any more men left there. The commissioner wired 


War's Brighter Side 

from London to say that there were 4,000,000 men 
and women " knocking about the town," that there 
was no excitement, and that men were begging to 
be sent to fight the Boers. Kruger wired back " Go 
North," The commissioner found himself in New- 
castle eventually and wired to Kruger, " For God's 
sake, stop the war! England is bringing up men 
from hell, eight at a time, in cages ! " 
He had seen a coal mine. 

Circulation, April ii, 5,500 

The circulation of The Friend is as large as 
that of all the Bloemfontein papers combined.^ 

All about the New Stamp Issue 


How strange a thing it is that so small a matter 
as a general taste for collecting stamps should, as it 
were, elevate a man at a single bound into a position 
where his slightest tact at discrimination in detecting 
the difference of shades between two bits of paper 

^ This was a transparent joke, as there was no other pa- 
per in the town. But, joking apart, there never had been a 
newspaper in that country or region with such a circulation 
as ours enjoyed ; yet it could have been twice as large had 
we employed our carts to circulate it in the outlying camps. 
-J. R. 


Wanted, a Millionaire 

of the same colour will sway and determine the 
destinies of a horde of fanatical collectors. 

That a man should occupy so exalted a position 
was accidentally brought to my notice after a return 
to Bloemfontein from a run to the Cape, where I 
found the Market Square, the club, the hotels and 
the street corners grouped with people who ap- 
peared to be intensely interested in the discussion of 
some all-important subject. Thinking that some 
radical proclamation had been issued, I paused to 
listen, but instead of legal phrase and technical form 
greeting my ear, the only intelligible word which I 
could detect in the buzz which emanated from the 
centre of the group was " Dot." 

I passed on to another group where the same 
" dot " arrested my attention ; then to a third, which 
was also " dotty," until, feeble and bewildered, I 
helplessly wandered about on the verge of an incur- 
able " dottiness " myself. 

Finally, I pulled myself together again and, blind 
to all danger, plunged into a group of " dotters," 
grasped one of them by the arm, and in reply to my 
appeals heard him hiss, as he roughly shook me off, 
" Surcharged stamps, you fool, misprinted, without 
dots." Then I understood. My curiosity was 
stimulated, I soon learned the subtle differences 
which add to subtract value from the surcharged 
Free State stamps. Finally I became the proud 
possessor of a dotless one myself. That settled it ; 
I became hopelessly " dotty " myself, and to the end 
of my natural days will always realise that affairs of 


War's Brighter Side 

State, literature, art, even money, are secondary to 
the importance of obtaining " the entire set," espe- 
cially if they are from " the bottom row " and " dot- 
less." This mania has taken possession of the 
entire army. 

From Tommy to General, the last biscuit or a 
drink of whisky, or a pass to be out after 8 p.m. can 
be extracted after a dozen refusals by producing a 
dotless stamp. 

Kruger could end this cruel war in an afternoon 
by simply sending out a dozen men mounted on 
swift horses, wearing white coats with the entire set 
without dots pasted on the back. These scouts 
should be unarmed and should ride in close to our 
lines and then turn round showing their backs. The 
moment the army would see the set, they would 
make a rush, and all the scouts would have to do 
would be to ride fast enough and in different direc- 
tions, and by nightfall the Imperial forces would be 
hopelessly scattered and lost in the boundless veldt. 
Kruger's scouts would be perfectly safe, for no one 
would dare to raise a rifle in their direction. Such 
an act might bring down a set ; but imagine if you 
can the fate of the miscreant if one dotless stamp 
should be punctured or if, horrible thought! a 
chance scattering of the lead should dot some of the 
precious bits of paper ! 

In my inquiries during the first stage of this dis- 
ease, I found that Major O'Meara was the supreme 
authority on this subject. I found the Major seated 
in a small room of the National Bank sorting out 


Wanted, a Millionaire 

from a huge collection the stamps which were to be 
surcharged. For three hours I watched him, as with 
wonderful skill and discrimination he picked out bits 
of paper which were obsolete and which an acci- 
dental surcharging would have made of untold 
value, and set the whole world of collectors into a 
palpitating hysteria of speculation, until finally cata- 
logued and bought by some multi-millionaire bent 
upon ruining himself to appease his craze. That all 
the legally surcharged stamps are carefully cata- 
logued in the Major's busy brain will doubtless 
surprise at some no distant date a few rascally specu- 
lators, who, possessing obsolete issues, have sur- 
reptitiously surcharged them, in the hope of creating 
a rarity to sell at fabulous prices. Leaving the 
Major's presence, I realised that the last stage of 
dotlessphobia had fastened itself on me, and, know- 
ing that recovery is hopeless, have abandoned my- 
self to full indulgence, hoping to derive at least some 
miserable satisfaction before the end. With this 
one reservation, I am determined never to surrender 
to the universal stamp collector's weakness of steal- 
ing. Others may walk uprightly through six days 
of the week about their ordinary affairs and turn 
aside on Sunday afternoon from the path of blind- 
ness to pilfer another collector's treasure while his 
face is turned away, out of politeness, to sneeze. 
But I ; no, I shall never, never, no — I won't steal. 



A Notable Number 

Captain Cecil Lowther joins the Wits and Poets 
again. A Report by Mr. Jenkins, who was 
" our Staff in himself " 

Mr. Buxton wrote the stern editorial 
" Judge ye," with which we led off the issue of 
April 14th. He reminded the Free Staters that 
England had, at the outset, no quarrel with 
them, but on the contrary had given them the 
" solemn assurance " that their independence 
and territory should be respected. The people 
of the little Republic had been led astray, had 
suffered conquest, and now were able to judge 
between the wicked whisperings of the two Pres- 
idents and the promptings of common sense and 
of regard for their future, " for," wrote Mr. Bux- 
ton, " brothers you must be with us, heirs and 
possessors of worldwide citizenship and Empire." 

We had recorded our first wedding, and now 
was the day when we received the first applica- 
tion from an English firm desiring to advertise 
in our columns. Messrs. Oetzmann & Co., of 

A Notable Number 

Hampstead Road, W., were the enterprising in- 
quirers. They said that they looked for a great 
development of the country and meant to send 
agents there when the war ended. On our part 
we made this request the basis of an editorial in 
which we said that this business letter " fore- 
shadows the coming changes in local conditions 
with a prophetic touch." 

Mr. Gwynne concocted a clever set of quota- 
tions which he called " Gleanings from Great 
Minds," and we published number three of our 
series of home-made portraits, choosing Dr. A. 
Conan Doyle as the subject. At this the Army 
at last began to whisper and suspect, and many 
a smile greeted each allusion to our enterprise. 

But our chef d'ceuvre was a second contribu- 
tion by " Bertie," whom all our readers knew to 
be none other than the handsome, the witty, the 
travelled, and the popular Adjutant of the Scots 
Guards, Captain Cecil Lowther. As the first 
letter had already been published in the House- 
hold Brigade Magazine I will not repeat it here, 
but the one that is now reproduced will give a 
lively hint of what our readers missed by the fact 
that Captain Lowther was away on duty in the 
boggy, sodden veldt, and could neither write nor 
think of writing, even to The Friend. 

A large collection is made from this issue of 
the paper of April 14th. All that is in this book 

War's Brighter Side 

reflects the excitement, the routine, and the dra- 
matic and picturesque phases of a soldier's life, 
as well as the strange situations and conditions 
produced by the conquest and occupation of a 
city in war. If that is true (and it is true in a 
very great degree as I believe), then in no chap- 
ter are more of all these novel views of irregular 
life mirrored than in this. From this you shall 
learn what a soldier had in the way of rations, 
how a great and majestic mind dealt with the 
rumours that British prisoners were being far 
from generously, or even humanely, dealt with 
by the semi-civilised foe; how a polished wit out 
of his superabundant humour found time to set 
down his sparkling thoughts in a soaking wet 
camp or a cold, wet plain, within sniping dis- 
tance of the enemy, and finally, how drained of 
almost every line of foodstuffs, medicines, cloth- 
ing, and luxuries the over-burdened town we 
lived in was becoming. 

Price : 
One Penny. 


Price : 
One Penny. 

{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Forces!) 

The following communication has been ad- 
dressed to President Kruger: — 

A Notable Number 

From Field Marshal Lord Roberts, Commanding in 
Chief in South Africa, to His Honour the Presi- 
dent, S. A. Republic, Pretoria, 

April 12, 1900. 

It has been reported to me that the Non-Com- 
missioned Officers and men of Her Majesty's Co- 
lonial Forces, who have been made prisoners of 
war, are treated as criminals and confined in Pre- 
toria jail, where they are very badly fed. It has 
also been brought to my notice that at the beginning 
of March there were ninety cases of enteric fever 
and dysentery among the Non-Commissioned Offi- 
cers and men in the camp at Waterval, and that, as 
Dr. Haylett, the Medical Officer in charge, failed 
to obtain from your Government the medicines and 
medical comforts which he required for the sick, 
he resigned. Dr. von Greldt being appointed in 
his place. 

It is stated that the prisoners at Waterval have to 
bivouac on the open veldt without overhead shelter 
and with only a layer of straw to lie on, while the 
sick are placed under an open shed with iron roof. 
I am informed that it was only upon Dr. von Greldt 
threatening to resign that medicines and mattresses 
were supplied for the sick. I can hardly believe 
that your Honour is aware or approves of the harsh 
treatment of the prisoners belonging to the Colonial 
Forces, or of the want of consideration shown to 
the prisoners at Waterval. The former are Her 
Majesty's subjects, are duly enlisted, are subject to 
military discipline, and wear uniform. According 

War's Brighter Side 

to the recognised customs of war, they are entitled 
to be treated in the same way as any other soldiers 
of Her Britannic Majesty, and I must remind your 
Honour that all prisoners captured by the troops 
under my command are equally well treated, whether 
they are burghers or foreigners. The utmost care 
has been taken of your sick and wounded, and no 
distinction has been made in the field hospitals be- 
tween them and our own soldiers. 

I invite your Honour's early attention to this 
matter, and I request that orders may be given for 
the Non-Commissioned Officers and men of the 
Colonial Forces to be released from jail and to be 
treated, not as criminals, but as prisoners of war. 

I also request that the prisoners at Waterval may 
be provided with overhead shelter, and that the sick 
and wounded may be properly entertained and taken 
care of in accordance with Article Six of the Geneva 


When I was quite a young recruit, not very long 

My comrades' conversation was a talk I didn't 

know ; 
I really thought to some far-distant country I'd 

been shipped 
When they said I was a " jowler," and described 

me as " just nipped." 


A Notable Number 

If I was " slightly dragged," or with my " praco " 

couldn't cope, 
They said I'd " lost my monnicker " and earned an 

" extra slope," 
And, though I'm known as Ferdinand to all my kin 

and kith, 
They went and dropped my Christian name and 

called me " Dusty Smith." 
They called me " Dusty Smith." 

But a soldier's life is the life for vie. 

And the foe shall ne'er alarm vie, 
For you won't feel queer ofi " Drug-hole beer" 

What's called " three-thick " i?i the Army. 

I asked them what my food would be. They said: 

"Your food? Oh that's 
* Meat/ ' jipper,' ' spuds ' and ' rooti/ with occa- 
sional ' top-hats.' " 
They said I'd find coal-hugging quite a lively little 

Then they put me " on the timber " and they called 

me " Junior Swab." 
But when my work was over, after " tapping up " 

a bit, 
I'd take my own " square missus " out — you bet we 

made a hit. 
And when I had to go on guard she'd come there 

every day 
To see me marching down the street and hear the 

" fiddlers " play. 
Just to hear the " fiddlers " play. 


War's Brighter Side 

So a soldier s life is t)ie life fo?- me, 

And the foe shall ne'er alarm me, 
As I slops my gun in Number One 

Whafs called " Long-Swabs " in the Army. 

But now I understand them 'cause I know my way 

And comprehend the Sergeant's unintelligible 

shout ; 
When he says : " Shooldare Hipe ! " I know that he 

means : " Shoulder hup " 
So I'm never for " Small-dodgers " and I never got 

" Built-up." 
I'm not a mere " Jam-soldier," I've extended sure 

And been made " Assistant-bully " so I help to cook 

the " Duff." 
I keep my kit and rifle clear, so's never to be rushed, 
And I've never been " done-tired " and I've never 

once been " pushed." 
No, I've never once been " pushed." 

Then a soldiei-'s life is the life for me, 

And the foe shall ?ie'er alarm me. 
And soon I shall be Corporal 

What's called *' Sauce- Jack " in the Army. 



" The horse is the natural enemy of Man : the 
horse is the only animal that will dash himself over 

Dr. A. Conan Doyle. 

A Notable Number 

a precipice to avoid the shadow of his own feed- 
bag." — Kipling. 

" All civilians must remain in their houses after 
eight o'clock at night." — Hints on Housekeeping (by 
Lord Roberts). 

" Your Mounted Infantry — it is as much as they 
can do to keep their hats on." — Albrecht, captured 
Boer Artillerist. 

" I call the Cavalry the Oh, Lor ! regiments. 
They ride up to a kopje and stare about till they 
are fired at, when they say, ' Oh, Lor ' and gallop 
o^r— Albrecht. 

. " I'd rather be a coward all my life than a corpse 
half a minute." — Solomon (junior). 


No. 3 


The accompanying wood-cut is a portrait of the 
well-known author, Dr. A. Conan Doyle. The au- 
thor of " Sherlock Holmes," who is so generously 
giving his time and whole-hearted attention to the 
sick and wounded, will, by the use of the " Holmes- 
ian method," be able to tell, without a moment's 
hesitation, at what period of his eventful life the 
photograph was taken, of which the accompanying 
block is a representation. 


War's Brighter Side 



My dear Father, — Since I last wrote to you we 
have been having a quiet time down South " pacify- 
ing the country." This consists in collecting arms — 
which we keep — and inviting the burghers to take 
oaths — which they don't keep — at least some of 
them don't. Every one seemed pleased to see us 
and very ready to tell all about their neighbours' 
misdoings. If one believes only half of what one 
was told, the smiling little village where we were 
quartered must be only one station this side of a 
very warm place. 

A spice of danger Is added to police work if there 
are other detachments in the neighbourhood. It is 
this wise. Two of our captains who were out after 
springbok one day were suddenly glued to the 
ground by the well-known whistle of bullets over 
their heads. Leaving their respective hills after 
dark, they returned and, with quivering lips, re- 
counted to us the dangers through which they had 
passed. An eviction party was organised and a 
thorough search made for hidden rifles on the farm 
where the incident had occurred. 

Nor unnaturally, none were found, as we heard 
on our return that Stoke had been out with six Non- 
commissioned Oflficers and had walked the country 
in line shooting at everything that moved. 

You remember Stoke, don't you? He was the 
fellow who was not going to bring a knife and fork 


A Notable Number 

out with him as everybody on service would of 
course eat with their fingers. 

Do you remember that rather pretty song that 
MacRavish in the A.S.C. used to sing? " Lay down 
thy lute, my dearest." The Provost-Marshal has 
now adopted it for his own, and I have had to give 
up all the loot I had collected in the last three 
months. It is very disappointing, but I suppose 
he will give it back when his staflf have taken what 
they want. 

We have been having a bad time the last few 
days, as there are detachments of troops constantly 
passing to the front, and unless one lies quite quiet 
they shoot at one. Their scouts, too, bang through 
the middle of the kitchens and camp " looking for 
the enemy," which is rather annoying for us, but it 
does not do to interfere. 

All the rifles are supposed to have been given up 
in the neighbourhood, so I was hurt in two senses — 
when I sat down on a very hard sofa in a farm close 
by and found that the cushion was stuffed with two 
Mausers and a lot of ammunition. The farmer pro- 
fessed to be as surprised as I was, but I don't see 
why he should have objected to my taking them 
away. He said they must have been left there acci- 
dentally by Potgieter or Pienaar. As you cannot 
throw a stone without hitting some one of those 
two names his statement was rather indefinite, be- 
sides being untruthful. It is awfully good of you 
sending me out all those woollen comforters and 
meat tabloids, but next time you are sending I wish 

30 447 

War's Brighter Side 

you could send me enough stuff to put a new seat 
and knees to my breeches as they are both deficient 
at present and even on active service they scarcely 
come under the head of " luxuries." — Your affec- 
tionate son, " Bertie." 

Get all yon can but don't take less 

It is all right to claim as much as you think you 
can get and to get all you really can, but in case of 
argument it may be just as well to have this little 
list stuck inside your helmet. You may know some 
way of getting more than this — striking the A.S.C. 
when it is badly rushed, or very sleepy — but if you 
reach the issue depot when it is too wide-awake for 
you, here is the list, just to make sure you'll not take 
less than regulations give you. 

One man, one day : — Biscuits, i lb. ; fresh bread, 
i^ lb.; preserved meat, i lb.; fresh meat, i^ lb.; 
coffee, f oz., or tea ^ oz., or ^ oz. of each ; pepper, 
gV oz. ; salt, I oz. ; sugar, 3 ozs. (including sugar 
for lime-juice) ; compressed vegetables, i oz. ; fresh 
vegetables, 8 oz. (when available) ; rice, 2 oz. (in 
lieu of vegetables) ; cheese, 2 oz. (in lieu of 4 oz. of 
meat) ; jam ^ lb. (three times a week) ; rum, -^ of 
gallon — when ordered; lime-juice, -^^ of a gallon, 
if certified to be necessary by the medical officer; 
candles, i per officer ; office authorised canteen. 

Meal or flour for natives i lb. a day which may 

A Notable Number 

be increased to i^ lb, when supplies are plentiful; 
natives receive the same ration as soldiers with the 
exception of vegetables. Meal or flour is usually 
substituted for bread. 

Indians enjoy a special scale of rations. 

Forage : — English horses : oats, 9 lbs. ; oathay, 
7 lbs. ; bran, 3 lbs. ; chafif, 2 lbs. 

Colonial horses : Mealies, 8 lbs. ; oathay, 4 lbs. ; 
bran, 2 lbs. ; chaff, 2 lbs. 

Mules : Mealies, 5 lbs. ; bran or chaff, 2 lbs. 

To officers. — If you countersign a claim for any 
more than this you had better be sure it is in the 
hands of a very " trustworthy " man, who can blufT 
it through, and get the A.S.C. men mixed up. If he 
doesn't know his way about they'll catch him up 
and send him back. 



[A young Philadelphian who very cleverly united in 
his own work and person the entire reportorial staff 
of the paper.] 

This town is hungry. The shops are practically 
bare. Nothing worth speaking of comes to market. 
The matter has passed from the stage at which it 
might be regarded as a joke. Bloemfontein really 
hungers for necessary articles of diet, and it has one 
week in which to raise an extra appetite before the 
first train of foodstuffs comes to its stores. The 
hopes of two trucks a day for Bloemfontein mer- 


War's Brighter Side 

chants, held out two weeks ago by the Imperial 
MiUtary Railway Officials, have proved vain. The 
two trucks never came. The line has been taken 
up wholly by the transportation of troops and army 
supplies. Next Thursday, however, unless the pres- 
ent plan is changed, a train of 20 trucks will leave 
Port Elizabeth with goods for merchants here. 
There will be one train a week thereafter. All day 
on Wednesday and Thursday the business men 
flocked to the Director of Supplies, who will assign 
to each his proportion of tonnage. 

For a week the best families of Bloemfontein 
have been without butter or sugar. The hospitals 
have commandeered nearly all the fresh milk. 
There is not a can of condensed milk to be bought 
in town, nor a can of jam, nor of cocoa, nor a pound 
of cofifee. The last candles sold in town were sent 
in from a country store. They disappeared in a day. 
The town depends for its potatoes on the few which 
come into town every morning. 

The daily supply of fresh vegetables is so small 
as to be hardly worth mentioning. 

Toilet soaps and English laundry soap disap- 
peared long ago. You cannot buy a razor or a 
shaving-brush or a tooth-brush. 

More than one druggist lacks material for put- 
ting up prescriptions : glycerine, cascara, bromide of 
potassium, boracic acid, carbolic disinfectants, gin- 
ger, zinc oxide, blue ointment, acetate of lead, and 
iodoform. Absence of some of these from the pre- 
scription shelves might result seriously. 


A Notable Number 

Eno's Salts and chlorodyne cannot be bought 
in town. Beecham's Pills were "all out" four 
months ago. 

The flour mills have been closed for several days 
for want of water. They will resume, feeding their 
boilers with well water, but the end of the yvheat 
supply is in sight. There is still mealie meal, but 
bakers declare that it won't make bread. 

Cigars that are worth smoking and whisky worth 
drinking haven't been seen for a week. Hospitals 
take all the soda-water that the factory can make. 

Shoemakers have not even veldschoens in ordi- 
nary sizes. They have had no leather for two weeks, 
so shoe repairing is out of the question. 

Winter is coming on, the mornings are already 
growing chilly, but clothiers have no hose and no 
heavy underwear of white man's quality. All hats 
suitable for army wear were sold long ago. 

Merchants declare that if they had not been 
promised two trucks a day by rail they would have 
brought supplies from Kimberley by ox-waggon. 
It would have taken six days, but would have been 
worth while. 


War's Brighter Side 

there attended it, and the receipts both at the 
doors and in the competition to purchase the 
works of Messrs. Prior and Wollen, the war 
artists, were very considerable. 

Price : 
One Penny. 


Price : 
One Penny. 

{Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Forces^ 



At some time all friends must part, and the time 
and parting have come to The Friend, its friends 
of the public and those war correspondents who 
have been conducting this journal just one month 

To-morrow this paper will be turned over from 
the charge of those who were only writers to the 
hands of men who are practised and able in the 
management of all departments of a daily journal. 

In bidding farewell to our trust, we can boast of 
nothing unless it be that we have entertained the 
troops and the town, and made no enemies of whom 
we know. The rest of what we have done has only 
been trying — though we have tried hard. 

We have said before in this column that it has 
been an unique experiment — to make one loyal 

Julian Ralph. 

Lieut. -General Pole-Carew, C. B. 

" Our Friend " no Longer 

newspaper out of two that were none too English, 
to make it with talent unused to the work, to make 
it, often, without news and to conduct it so as to 
produce something palatable to both the conquerors 
and the conquered. 

We take this occasion to thank the Field Mar- 
shal, Lord Roberts, for the trust he reposed in us, 
and to express the hope that we did not disap- 
point him. 

We also wish to thank those who have assisted 
us, both among our fellow correspondents and the 
talented men of the army. Poets we find the latter 
to be, for the most part. We hope all these will 
continue to give the helpful right hand to the enter- 
prise under its new managers. 

And so we say " adieu " to The Friend, and 
good luck to its new conductors. 

No. 4 


We feel that we owe an apology to our readers 
for presenting the portrait of one of our first fighting 
generals in civilian costume, but our artist left his 
colours at home and refused to paint at all unless 
with plain black. The artist in question is Captain 
Cecil Lowther, of the Scots Guards, and this is 
his first effort in art. For General Pole-Carew, the 


War's Brighter Side 

subject of this masterpiece, what is there to say 
except that his promotion has gratified the entire 
army and evoked the heartiest congratulations from 
The Friend? 



Editors, The Friend, — Sirs, — Can you inform 
me whether there has been a sudden exodus from 
Bloemfontein of war correspondents armed with 
cameras? There ought to have been, and yet I 
have inquired in vain whether such an event has 
taken place. For, look you, the judgment has gone 
forth from the pen of Mr. Wollen that the " war 
artist " — meaning the man with a pencil as opposed 
to the men with a camera — " will come out on top." 
Truly, this is most disheartening. No one likes to 
be thrust to a bottom position, and if that is to be 
the fate of the man with a camera, why should he 
any longer endure the hardships of campaigning and 
the sorrows of separation from the comforts and 
companionships of home ? 

But the war correspondent with a camera has 
not gone home. He has no intention of doing so. 
He is unrepentant enough to believe that he, and 
not the man with a pencil, is going to " come out 
on top." 

Let us have the point at issue clearly defined. 
War correspondents are with the army to report 


" Our Friend " no Longer 

the war — some by word pictures, others by camera 
or pencil pictures. Sight-seeing is a passion with 
humanity. Every inhabitant of the British Isles 
would like to have a personal vision of the conflict 
in South Africa, but — save for two or three irre- 
sponsible persons whose presence at the front no 
one can understand — those inhabitants are com- 
pelled to rely upon the eyes of others. Now, leav- 
ing aside the correspondents who devote them- 
selves to word pictures solely, the question to be 
decided is — does the man with the camera surpass 
the man with the pencil in depicting the actuality 
of warfare ? 

An astounding claim is made on behalf of the 
man with the pencil. He can, we are told by Mr. 
Wollen, show the public " an accurate bird's-eye 
view of what a battle is like." And he does it by " a 
few lines to indicate the background and character- 
istics of it." The same authority assures us that 
" the brain of the camera cannot take in all that is 
going on. The man with the pencil does so." Such 
is the case for the man with the pencil. Now for 
the test of cross-examination. 

Modder River and Magersfontein may be cited 
as two representative battles of the war, and so may 
be honestly used as touchstones to try the claim 
Mr. Wollen makes on behalf of the man with a 
pencil. In each case there was a battle-line of some 
five or six miles, in each case the enemy was in- 
visible, in each case it was physically impossible 
for any one man to see more than a small portion of 


War's Brighter Side 

the battle. A spectator on the right flank at Modder 
River could have no personal knowledge of inci- 
dents which were happening in the centre of the 
bridge, or down the river on the left flank. Even 
of his own particular section on the right flank that 
spectator could not attain to a perfect knowledge. 
But the man with a pencil is untrammelled by such 
minor matters as time and space ; he " takes in all 
that is going on." Or, if he does not take it all in, 
he puts it in his sketch. The result is no more " an 
accurate bird's-eye view of what a battle is like " 
than a photograph of Oom Paul is like a photo- 
graph of Mr. Chamberlain. In short, the facility 
with which the pencil-man can jot down what he 
did not see is his ruin. 

It will be obvious that the man with the pencil, 
not being ubiquitous, cannot " take in " all that hap- 
pens on a battlefield ; he sees just as much as, and no 
more than, the man with the camera ; for the rest — 
which forms so large a proportion of his sketch — ^he 
has to rely upon the testimony of others. Now, 
when the public have in their hands a result attained 
by this method, what is its value as an " accurate 
bird's-eye view of what a battle is like ? " Absolutely 
nil. People at home want to see a battle as they 
would have seen it if they had been present, and no 
sane man will contest the assertion that the best 
medium for giving them that vision is the camera 
rather than the pencil. Try as he may after the 
actual, the man with the pencil thrusts his person- 
ality between the event he sees and the people at 



Our Friend " no Longer 

home for whom he wishes to reproduce it, and con- 
squently his sketch becomes a miserable failure when 
considered as an " accurate bird's-eye view of what 
a battle is like." 

On the other hand, what does the man with the 
camera do? He and his lens see at least so much 
of a given battle as any man with a pencil, and what 
they see they see with unfailing accuracy. Take that 
battery in action which Mr. Wollen chooses to cite 
as a subject wherein the powerlessness of the camera 
is supposed to be illustrated. The camera man does 
not fear the test. He can show the guns coming 
into action, record their unlimbering, depict the 
preparation for firing, and time a photograph at 
the actual moment of firing. It is true that his 
picture will not show quite such a volume of smoke 
as the sketch of the man with the pencil. But why ? 
Because the smoke is not there. The man with the 
pencil puts it in because other men with pencils 
have been putting it in for generations. Perhaps, 
too, the public would not mistake the sketch for a 
battle-scene if the smoke were absent. Anyhow, 
what becomes of the boast of accuracy f More- 
over, the man with a camera will not present his 
public with a twelve-pounder firing from the car- 
riage of a howitzer. 

There is something more to be said for the man 
with a camera. Now-a-days he is in the habit of 
screwing a telephoto lens to the front of the camera, 
and with that lens he can immensely outdistance the 
vision of even that all-seeing man with the pencil. 


War's Brighter Side 

Objects a couple of miles off are brought near, and 
groups of men can be photographed at such dis- 
tances as prevent them assuming any posing atti- 
tudes. In this way actuality takes on the added 
charm of natural grouping, and I shall be greatly 
surprised if some of the telephoto pictures of this 
war do not take rank as the most artistic as well 
as realistic records of its incidents. 

After all, the man with a camera may safely leave 
his case in the hands of others. Take a negative and 
a positive witness on the question in the abstract. 
Mr. Julian Ralph writes that " the pictures of our 
battles which are coming back to us in the London 
weeklies are not at all like the real things," and then 
he adds : " I saw the other day a picture in one of 
the leading papers by one of the best illustrators. It 
showed the British storming a Boer position. In 
the middle ground was a Boer battery, and the only 
gunner left alive was standing up with a bandage 
round his head, while smoke and flame and flying 
fragments of shells filled the air in his vicinity. In 
the rush of the instant he must have been bandaged 
by the same shot that struck him, and as for smoke 
and debris in the air, there was more of this in a 
corner of that picture than I have seen in all the 
four battles we have fought." 

Now for the positive witness. He is no less a 
person than the art critic of the Pall Mall Gazette, 
who can no more be charged with a predilection for 
photography than Messrs. Steyn and Kruger can be 
saddled with a predilection for truthfulness. This 


" Our Friend " no Longer 

critic dwells, as Mr. Scott did in the letter which 
opened this discussion, upon the old and new 
methods of war illustration, and then candidly adds : 
" I would like to say that the artists score off the 
photographer, but they do not. The public wants 
the facts as near as may be, and are too deeply 
stirred to be put off with melodrama." 

One other witness may be called to give Mr. 
Wollen an idea of how the work of the man with 
the pencil is faring at home. Here is a recent pri- 
vate letter from England, which makes merry in the 
following fashion over those sketches which are so 
inclusive and accurate : " There is a picture of two 
gunners standing to attention after having ex- 
hausted their ammunition. The man nearest the 
gun is looking straight in front of him, with a band- 
age round his head, a bullet-wound in his face (close 
to the left ear), two in the right side of his chest, 
and one in his right leg, some distance above the 
knee. Within a yard of him is a bursting shell. 
But that man ignores such trivial things. Still he 
stands. I suppose the weight of so much lead in 
him keeps him up. One wonders whether he is 
hollow inside, so that the bullets all drop down into 
his feet." 

No wonder, worthy editorial sirs, you have not 
witnessed an exodus of men with cameras from 
Bloemfontein ; they are staying to " come out on 
top." Sincerely yours. 

H. C. Shelley. 


War's Brighter Side 


"Who Stole the Cart?" 

To the Editors of The Friend, — Sirs, — Practical 
jokes are out of date, and the perpetrators have uni- 
versally come to be regarded as a mixture of fools 
and knaves. It is intolerable to attempt a practical 
joke upon a friend, but to play one upon a stranger 
is downright rascality. To accept an excuse for 
such a thing is to admit the pleas of the man who 
took a piece of old rope that he did not mean to 
take the horse that was at the other end ; or that 
of other fellows who sneak property, pick pockets, 
or forge cheques, that these acts were all done in fun. 

I have been much interested in reading in The 
Friend about horses, saddles, bridles, and even 
riems being stolen in this campaign, but I think I 
can add to the list with a more startling experience 
of my own. I bought a waggon from a well-known 
man in this town and had it sent to a coach repairer 
to be overhauled. It was a conspicuous vehicle, as 
much so as a Soudan pantechnicon van, with white 
wall sides, upon which were painted, in letters that 
could be read half a mile away, the owner's name, 
business, and address. This waggon was impu- 
dently taken in the night-time, dragged to stables 
some distance away, and there left. From the police 
I have learned that paint had actually been pur- 
chased, and it was evidently the intention of the 
thieves to transform my waggon, by painting out 
the name and address, and so daub it with khaki or 

" Our Friend " no Longer 

some other colour that it should become unrecog- 
nisable. By a fortuitous accident the waggon was 
discovered in the nick of time. 

The law here is such that an aggrieved party 
must become a prosecutor, which is an undertaking 
a transient visitor naturally shirks. 

I think it my duty to call attention to the circum- 
stances and the inadequacy of the existing means for 
the prevention of wrong-doing and the punishment 
of the wrong-doers. — I am, sirs, yours truly, 

Melton Prior, 
War Artist, Illustrated London News. 


Thanks to the kindness of the Military Governor, 
Major-General Pretyman, the concert in aid of the 
" Widows' and Orphans' Funds," London and 
Bloemfontein, will be held next Wednesday even- 
ing, instead of during the afternoon. Major-Gen- 
eral Pretyman has conceded that upon the date in 
question, Wednesday, i8th inst., the pass regula- 
tion will not come into force until midnight. That 
means that citizens may move about after 8 p.m., 
or until twelve o'clock, without requiring any special 
pass or being called upon to produce a permit. 

The committee of war correspondents declare 

that the entertainment will require no booming. It 

is to be a red-letter day in the calendar of concerts 

given for charitable purposes in Bloemfontein, both 

31 463 

War's Brighter Side 

in respect to talent upon the platform and to the 
celebrities who will crowd the Town Hall that 

Amongst those who will appear will be Miss 
Fraser, the Free State nightingale, who will sing 
original verses written by Mr. Rudyard Kipling for 
the occasion, Miss Leviseur, Miss Jessie Fraser, 
Lieut.-Colonel Townshend, C.B., Surgeon-Major 
Beevor, Scots Guards, Lieut. James Forrest, Captain 
Nugent, the celebrated vocalist; Captain Wright, 
R.N. (The Skipper) ; the Lightning Cartoonists, 
alias The Gemini ; Mr. Preshaw, Major Jones, R.E., 
besides, in the language of the entrepreneurs, " a 
coruscation and galaxy of stars of the first magni- 
tude too numerous to mention in the brief space 
afforded." It is hoped that the military band will 
be present, but, at any rate, that the concert will be 
high-class without being dull is guaranteed from 
the fact that Messrs. Ivan Haarburgher and King 
are in charge of the musical arrangements. 

Tickets may be had and seats booked at Messrs. 
Borckenhagen and Co. Prices : 5s., reserved seats ; 
gallery, 2s. 6d. ; soldiers in uniform to gallery, is. 



Adieu to " The Friend " 

Thus ends the history of this new departure 
in war and in journalism. Of it Mr. Kipling 
wrote afterwards, " Never again will there be 
such a paper! Never again such a staff! Never 
such fine larks." It has been impossible, after 
all my good intentions, to tell of scores of the 
peculiarities of the paper, and its editors' experi- 
ences. Sometimes copies of The* Friend did 
not look twice alike for days at a time, as we 
strove to make it more and more workmanlike, 
and more and more original and attractive. 

We began, as I have said, with advertisement 
" ear-tabs " on either side of the heading. Then 
we put the Royal coat-of-arms in their places. 
Next we put the arms in the middle of the title 
space and published mottoes and notices in new 
" ear-tabs." At first we only put double leads 
between the lines of the leading article each day, 
but presently we dignified the cable news and 
Mr. Kipling's contributions in that way. We 
once put some editorial notices in rhyme, and 

War's Brighter Side 

set them up in black job type — when we 
changed the price of the paper to one penny for 

We knew that our money returns were in 
confusion, but because we had taken over a busi- 
ness manager from one of the two comman- 
deered newspapers, whom we could hardly ex- 
pect to be in sympathy with us, and because we 
had established two prices for the paper and were 
being victimised by some of our customers, we 
never knew how the finance of our venture was 
likely to come out. 

A practised man of affairs, from the City Im- 
perial Volunteer Mounted Force, Mr. Siegfried 
Blumfeld, most kindly took the trouble to look 
into our accounts, and we learned from his re- 
port that we were making money, but not nearly 
enough to satisfy our pride and hopes. How- 
ever, as events proved, we made a splendid profit, 
and were able to make Tommy Atkins's news- 
paper pay a handsome sum toward " Tommy's " 
relief. All that any of us have even thus far 
learned of the profits is to be found in the follow- 
ing formal letter I received from Lord Stanley: — 

Army Headquarters, Pretoria, 

3rd October, 1900. 
Sir, — I have been asked by Major-General 
Pretyman, C.B., to forward you a copy of a letter 

Adieu to "The Friend" 

which he has received bearing reference to the 
use made of the profits of The Friend news- 

General Pretyman adds that there will be 
a further cheque, which he proposes to send to 
some other charity, but which he does not 
specify to me. 

Yours sincerely, 

Julian Ralph, Esq. 

Stellenberg, Kenilworth, Cape Colony, 

Sir, — As Honorary Treasurer of the Sol- 
diers' and Sailors' Families Association, I en- 
close a formal acknowledgment of the cheques 
for £136 17s. 3d. so kindly sent to our Associa- 
tion by the War Correspondents. Should you 
have an opportunity of doing so, I should be 
very glad if you would convey to Lord Stanley 
and the other gentlemen our great appreciation 
of this kind and thoughtful gift. 

Yours very truly, 
(Signed) W. L. Sclater. 

Had we been able to "inspan" a proof-reader 

with a Lee-Metford rifle and a determination to 

use it to enforce his " corrections," we should not 

have announced the Queen's reception in Dublin 


War's Brighter Side 

as a great tribute by London, neither should we 
have made Mr. Kipling speak of a " shixlvl " 
when he wrote a '' shovelful." Four of us had 
to fill a great chasm nine columns long and wide 
every day, and to do proof-reading as well. We 
produced the nine columns incidentally as a 
thing done with our left hands, the while that 
our minds and souls and master-hands were de- 
voted to correcting proofs. Bravely as we bat- 
tled with them, they kept coming like a swift 
tide, until, in a reckless way of putting it, they 
were heaped on our table as high as the first but- 
ton on each of our coats. When it came to time 
to go to press we regularly and daily observed 
that we had not only overlooked errors enough 
to wreck our reputations, but that the composi- 
tors had failed to correct most of those which 
we had marked. Gravely, in a body, we used to 
march to the printing-office and threaten to send 
the entire corps of workmen as prisoners to 
Simonstown, charged with being hostile to the 
blessings of enlightened government. Then we 
would go to lunch and the paper would come 
out — so full of mistakes that there was clearly 
nothing to do but to allow the humour of the 
situation to have its way, and to laugh until we 
almost cried at the extravagance of the offences 
we were committing against journalism and 
" the art preservative of arts." 

Adieu to "The Friend" 

Despite its whimsicalities, The Friend was 
a dignified newspaper, and very nearly a com- 
plete one. The largest daily circulation o^ any 
Bloemfontein newspaper had been 400 copies, 
but we regularly sold from 5,000 to 5,500 copies. 
We published Renter's telegrams from all over 
the world (semi-occasionally when military mes- 
sages did not block the wires), and the Capetown 
Argus's tidings of what went on in South 

As I have written elsewhere, " its unique 
origin and purpose, and its eccentricities, com- 
bined to make it the basis of a collecting mania." 
Copies with a mistake in a date line, corrected 
after one hundred papers had been struck of?, 
brought five shillings on the date of issue, and 
ten shilHngs two days later, and the price had 
risen to a guinea by the time the newspaper was 
turned over to the managers of the Johannesburg 
Star and Capetozvn Argus. This took place 
when it was apparent to all of us that two or 
three of us were not in the physical trim to serve 
The Friend and our distant employers without 
causing one or the other to suffer great neglect. 

The competition for complete sets of the 
newspaper ran the price up to £25, and this strife 
ran neck and neck with the rivalry to obtain 
sets of Freed State postage stamps made British 
by the letters V.R.I, on an overline of printing. 

War's Brighter Side 

One of these stamps was quoted at £io while the 
army lingered in Bloemfontein, but I have my 
own reason for thinking that The Friend will 
receive a higher valuation than any " pink six- 
penny stamp " or any set of stamps, for it fell to 
the lot of that journal to emphasise the present 
power and usefulness of the press as no other 
journal has ever done. 

A single copy of this newspaper has since 
fetched £25 at a London charity bazaar. 

Since the return to England of three of the 
editors we have decided to perpetuate the little 
organisation in a fraternal " Order of Friend- 
lies," and Rudyard Kipling has designed a badge 
which Messrs. Tiffany & Co., jewellers, of Re- 
gent Street, have most ably and artistically exe- 
cuted in gold and enamel. It is of the size of a 
two guinea coin. On its obverse side are the 
colours of the old Free State and Transvaal, 
upon which is imposed the red cross of Saint 
George. In the ends of the cross are the initials 
of the four editors in Greek capitals. Lord Rob- 
erts's badge has his initials in the centre of the 
cross in green under a golden coronet, and where 
the ring is, on top of our badges, his has a green 
enamel shamrock leaf. On the reverse side are 
four pens crossed and surrounded by a motto, 
*' In the Midst of War the Printing Press," here 

Adieu to "The Friend" 

couched in monkish Latin. Lord Roberts's 
badge has a drawn sword of gold on top of the 
crossed pens. Only seven men in all the world 
belong to this order: Lord Roberts, Lord Stan- 
ley, Messrs. Gwynne, Kipling, Landon, Buxton, 
and myself. All others are eligible, however, 
who have dedicated themselves to " telling the 
truth at all costs and all hazards," so that the 
mind fails to grasp the future possibilities of its 





Travels and Investigations in the ^'Middle Kingdom " — A Study 
of its Civilization and Possibilities. Together with an Account 
of the Boxer War, the Relief of the Legations, and the Re-estab- 
lishment of Peace. By James Harrison Wilson, A. M., LL. D., 
late Major-General United States Volunteers, and Brevet Major- 
General United States Army. Third edition, revised throughout, 
enlarged, and reset. i zmo. Cloth, $1.75. 

General Wilson's second visit to China and his recent active 
service in that country have afforded exceptional chances for a 
knowledge of present conditions and the possibilities of the future. 
In the light of the information thus obtained at first hand in the 
country itself. General Wilson is enabled to write with a peculiar 
authoritativeness in this edidon, which brings his study of China 
down to the present" day. In addition to the new chapters which 
have been added explaining the origin and development of the 
Boxer insurrection, the relief of the legations, and the outlook for 
the future, the author has revised his book throughout, and has 
added much valuable matter in the course of his narrative. This 
book, which is therefore in many respects new, puts the reader 
in possession of a broad and comprehensive knowledge of Chinese 
affairs, and this includes the latest phases of the subject. The 
practical and discriminating character of the author's study of 
China will be appreciated more than ever at this time when prac- 
tical questions relating to Chinese administration, commerce, and 
other matters of the first importance, are engaging so much 
attention. This new edition is indispensable for any one who 
wishes a compact, authoritative presentation of the China of 




Com Paul's People. 

With Illustrations. i2mo. Cloth, ^1.50. 

"He [the author] has written a plain, straightforward nar- 
rative of what he himself saw and learned during his recent visit 
to South Africa. . . . The only criticism of it will be that 
which Sam Weller passed on his own love letter, that the reader 
* will wish there was more of it ' — which is the great art of 
letter- writing and of book- writing. " — New York World. 

"The first systematic and categorical exposition of the 
merits of the whole case and its origins written by a disinterested 
observer. . . . An informing book, and a well- written one." — 
New York Mail and Express. 

" Gives precisely the information necessary to those who 
desire to follow intelligently the progress of events at the present 
time." — New York Commercial Advertiser. 

The Boers in War. 

The True Story of the Burghers in the Field. 
Elaborately illustrated with Photographs by the 
Author and Others. Uniform with " Oom Paul's 
People." i2mo. Cloth, I1.50. 

"A book of even wider interest than ' Oom Paul's People.' 
A most novel and curious account of a military form that has 
never been duplicated in modern dmes ; exceptionally interesting. 
Mr. Hillegas has given us beyond question the best account yet 
published. ' ' — Brooklyn Eagle. 


Betsy Ross. 

A Romance of the Flag. By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss, author 
of "In Defiance of the King," etc. i2mo. Cloth, ^1.50. 

** Betsy Ross" is a historical romance based upon the story 
of the maker of the first official American flag. Mrs. Ross was 
a charming young widow of but little more than twenty-three 
when she was commissioned to make the flag fi-om a design sub- 
mitted to her by Washington. Her husband had been killed by 
an accident at the Philadelphia arsenal within a few months after 
his marriage. 

The romance which the author has woven around the origin 
of our flag will quicken the pulse of every reader by the wealth of 
striking characters and dramatic incidents, and the absorbing interest 
of the plot. History has furnished a motive which has been 
curiously neglected in fiction, and the picturesque figures of the 
time, sea-rangers and Quakers, redcoats and Continental soldiers, 
and even Washington himself, have to do with the development of 
a strange and thrilling story wherein Betsy Ross takes the leading 
part. The ancient tavern, the home of the Philadelphia merchant, 
the flag-maker's little shop, and the quaint and charming life of the 
time, are shown as the background of a series of swift incidents 
which hold the reader's attention. "Betsy Ross" is a book to 
be read, and the reader will recommend it. 

The Betsy Ross of history was a singularly bright and win- 
some woman, and intensely patriotic. Mr. Hotchkiss' s story has 
been confined to the romantic days of her early womanhood. 
The house in which the flag was completed, and in and about 
which most of the action of the novel takes place, still stands on 
Arch Street, Philadelphia, and the attempt to preserve it as one 
of the shrines connected with American history is meeting with 
deserved success. Mrs. Ross (afterward Mrs. Claypoole) died 
at the great age of ninety-three, and her remains lie in Mount 
Moriah Cemetery. 


Edhcd by General JAMES GRANT WILSON. 

This series forms one of the most notable collections of books that has 
been published for many years. The success it has met with since the first 
volume was issued, and the widespread attention it has attracted. Indicate 
that it has satisfactorily fulfilled its purpose, viz., to provide in a popular 
form and moderate compass the records of the lives of men who have been 
conspicuously eminent in the great conflicts that established American in- 
dependence and maintained our national integrity and unity. Each bic^- 
raphy has been written by an author especially well qualified for the task, 
and the result is not only a series of fascinating stories of the lives and deeds 
of great men, but a rich mine of valuable information for the student of 
American history and biography. 

Each, J2mo, cloth, gilt top, $1.50. 


Admiral Farragtit - - - - By Captain A. T. Mahan, U. S. N. 

General Taylor By General O. O. Howard, U. S. A. 

General Jackson .....By James Parton. 

General Greene By General Franos V. Greene. 

General J. E, Johnston - - By Robert M. Hughes, of Virginia. 
General Thomas ------- By Henry Coppee, LL. D. 

General Scott By General Marcus J. Wright. 

General Washington - - - By General Bradley T. Johnson. 

General Lee By General Fitzhugh Lee. 

General Hancock By General Francis A. Walker. 

General Sheridan By General Henry E. Davies. 

General Grant By General James Grant Wilson. 

General Sherman By General >L\nning F. Force, 

Commodore Patil Jones - - - - By Cyrus Townsent) Brady. 
General Meade By Isaac R. Pennypacker. 


General McClellan By General Peter S. MicHa. 

Admiral Porter By James R. Soley, late Ass't Sec'y U. S. Navy_ 

General Forrest By Captain J. Harvey Mathes, 



Commodore Paul Jones. 

By Cyrus Townsend Brady, author of" Reuben 
James," " For the Freedom of the Sea," " The 
Grip of Honor," etc. A new volume in the 
Great Commanders Series, edited by General 
James Grant Wilson. With Photogravure Por- 
trait and Maps. i2mo. Cloth, I1.50. 

As a writer upon naval life from the point of Niew of the 
historical romancer Mr. Brady stands at the head of the Ameri- 
can writers of this generation. He is a historian as well as a 
novelist, and his historical and biographical work has attracted 
marked attention on account of the knowledge, the grasp of theme, 
and the power of sympathetic discernment which he has shown. 
A life of Paul Jones by Mr. Brady represents a peculiarly felici- 
tous union of author and subject. There is no more picturesque 
and heroic figure in naval history than that of the doughty little 
captain who fought and captured the Serapis when his own ship 
was sinking under him. His career presented features which 
have proved puzzling to many writers, and the work which 
Mr. Brady has done in clearing up his life, and in presenting a 
lucid narrative enriched with extracts from Paul Jones's more 
important correspondence, has a peculiar and permanent value. 
Mr. Brady's vigorous style, his vivid imagination, and dramatic 
force are most happily exhibited in this book. 

" Brady's ' Commodore Jones ' is incomparably fine. Being the work of 
a scholarly writer, it must stand as the best popular life yet available. The 
book is one to buy and own. It is more interesting than any novel, and better 
written than most histories." — Nautical Gazette. 

" Mr. Brady's book shows great study and care, and brings out many new 
and characteristic incidents not hitherto published." — Netv Haven Palladium. 

" Has the fascination of a romance." — Cle-veland Plain Dealer. 

"No better biographer than Mr. Brady could have been found for the first 
admiral of our fleet. The book is good biography, but it is also good patriotism." 
— New York Mail and Express. 


The Story of the Soldier. 

By General G. A. Forsyth, U.S.A. (retired). Illustrated b) 
R. F. Zogbaum. A new volume in the Story of the West Series^ 
edited by Ripley Hitchcock. i 2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

In the great task of opening the empire west of the Missour 
the American regular soldier has played a part large and heroicj 
but unknown. The purpose of this book is to picture the Amer- 
ican soldier in the life of exploration, reconnoissances, establishing 
posts, guarding wagon trains, repressing outbreaks, or batdinj 
with hostile Indians, which has been so large a part of the army's 
active work for a hundred years. 

No romance can be more suggestive of heroic deeds than this 
volume, which appears most opportunely at a time when the 
Regular Army is facing so many and so serious duties in both 
hemispheres. No one is better entitled to write it than the brave 
officer who with his little handful of men held the sandspit in the 
Arickaree for days against Roman Nose and his thousands ol 
warriors, and finally won their lives by sheer dogged pluck and 
heroism. Mr. Zogbaum' s illustrations are a most valuable gal- 
\ery of pictures of Western army life. 

"To General Forsyth belongs the credit of having gathered together foi 
the first time the story of the heroic work, invaluable to the progress of oui 
civilization, which regular soldiers performed in silence and obscurity." — Boston 

" General Forsyth's identity with the army extends over a notable period 
in its history, and he is among the few officers who remain who are able tc 
write of their personal knowledge of the thrilling experiences of our soldiers on 
the plains." — Washington Army and Na-vy Register. 

"The soldierly qualities of the author appear on every page of the volume 
in a precision of statement, a generositv of praise, and an urbanity of temper. 
The narrative is commended to the interest and attention of every student oi 
our national life and development." — Philadelphia Ledger. 

"There is not a dullpage in the book." — Buffalo Commercial. 

"The story presents a fresh and thrilling chapter of American history." — 
Cle-veland World. 



DT Ralph, Julian 

939 War's brighter side 




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