Badge specially made for the Editors of The Friend.

Julian Ralph. Perceval Landon.

H. A. Gwynne. Rudyard Kipling.

The editors at Work.
Photographed by H. Mackern, of "Scribner's Magazine."

War's Brighter Side

THE STORY OF THE FRIEND NEWSPAPER
EDITED BY THE CORRESPONDENTS
WITH LORD ROBERTS'S FORCES,
MARCH-APRIL, 1900 + + + +

By

JULIAN RALPH
(One of the Editors of "The Friend")
Author of "Towards Pretoria," "At Pretoria," "Alone in China," etc., etc.

WITH 15 ILLUSTRATIONS

London
C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.
Henrietta Street
1901

[The coloured reproductions on the cover
of this book are fac-similes of a
badge specially made for the Editors
of The Friend.]

WITH HIS KIND PERMISSION
THIS HISTORY OF HIS
UNIQUE AND HISTORIC
EXPERIMENT IN PUBLISHING A NEWSPAPER
FOR AN ARMY IN THE FIELD
IS DEDICATED TO
FIELD MARSHAL, EARL ROBERTS, V.C., K.G., K.P., Etc.
COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.

LETTER FROM EARL ROBERTS TO LORD STANLEY REGARDING "THE FRIEND."

Bloemfontein,
April 13th, 1900.

Dear Lord Stanley,—I understand that on Monday next, the 16th 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 deep 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 purchased 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 towards making the paper such a success, especially to the following gentlemen, Messrs. Landon, Ralph, Gwynne, and Buxton.

Believe me to be
Yours very truly,

ROBERTS.

PREFACE

Lord Roberts is the first General of whom I have heard who ever recognised and acknowledged the Value and Power of the Press by establishing a Newspaper as a source of Entertainment 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 conquered the first of the Boer Capitals, almost simultaneously with his appointment of a Military 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 Journalists, 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, and here this narrow limitation of the interest in the book is broken wide asunder. These newspaper 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 Engagements. They hold the Mirror up to the Life of an Army, in Camp, on the March, in Battle, 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 Faring in Battle. In all the Wealth of English Literature I know of no such a Mirror-reflection and a Phonograph-echoing of Soldier Life as is here.

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 Personal 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 the 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 peculiar 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 16th to April 16, 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, furthermore, the general reader would have found it too tiresome to work his way through the many Technical Articles and others which time has rendered stale or of little interest. Therefore, not without regret, I felt obliged to select, as my best judgment prompted, the matter of the Most Peculiar character, or of Widest Interest 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.

CONTENTS

• CHAP. PAGE

• THE BIRTH OF "THE FRIEND" [1]
• ITS INFANCY [12]
• WE PUBLISH A "CURIO" NUMBER [28]
• WE BEGIN TO FEEL AT HOME [41]
• TREATING OF MANY PEOPLES [63]
• OURS WAS NO BED OF ROSES [82]
• RUDYARD KIPLING, ASSOCIATE EDITOR [99]
• LORD ROBERTS'S HEADQUARTERS [112]
• "OH, HOW GOOD IT WAS!" [131]
• I VISIT MISS BLOEMFONTEIN [160]
• OUR VERY MIXED PUBLIC [182]
• "VIVE LA COMPAGNIE" [200]
• WE LEAVE "THE FRIEND" TO SEE A FIGHT [221]
• MY HORSE OFFERED FOR SALE [237]
• GENERAL POLE-CAREW IN WAR [248]
• OUR LOSS AND THE ARMY'S [258]
• THE CENSOR AS AN EDITOR [268]
• OUR CHRISTENING COMPETITION [274]
• FOOLED BY THE BOERS [283]
• DR. A. CONAN DOYLE CONTRIBUTES [305]
• LOOT AND LURID CRAZES [318]
• IN THE SHADOW OF SANNA'S POST [330]
• A COMPLETE NEWSPAPER [346]
• FALSE HEARTS AROUND US [350]
• THE END APPROACHES [361]
• WANTED, A MILLIONAIRE [371]
• A NOTABLE NUMBER [385]
• OUR "FRIEND" NO LONGER [398]
• ADIEU TO "THE FRIEND" [410]

• INDEX [417]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

• THE EDITORS AT WORK [Frontispiece]
• JULIAN RALPH [42]
• A CORRECTED "PROOF" BY RUDYARD KIPLING [99]
• EARL ROBERTS [112]
• MISS BLOEMFONTEIN [160]
• MENU OF A NOTABLE DINNER [202]
• JULIAN RALPH AND HIS HORSE "RATTLESNAKE" [238]
• LORD STANLEY AT WORK AS CENSOR [268]
• A PAGE OF CONAN DOYLE'S "COPY" [306]
• THE CAPITULATION OF BLOEMFONTEIN [320]
• THE FRONT PAGE OF "THE FRIEND" OF APRIL 14, 1900 [388]

WAR'S BRIGHTER SIDE

CHAPTER I
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 (more than forty, if I am not mistaken) miles in one of the three days' continuous marching. Many had fought at Jacobsdahl, Paardeberg, and Driefontein, 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 waggons, with their contents and the animals that drew them, and we had put the torch to two 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 flesh.

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 (Villebois-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 Kimberley to Bloemfontein. For warning his brusque and opinionated commander-in-chief, Cronje, that we would do this, Cronje insulted the brilliant 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, 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 Kimberley, drawn the Boers away from the Cape Colony border, captured the best army and leading 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 correspondents 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 Bloemfontein, 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 commemorate and explain it; and I trust that no one who reads this will decide that it was not an episode worthy of an even more marked, substantial, 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. Buxton, of the Johannesburg Star, to attend a meeting 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 carried 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 correspondents came quickly to realise the admirable qualities 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 between the sterling virtues and deep affection of the letters to Tommy, and the colder, more selfish, and even querulous messages of the wives of officers.

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 informing 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 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 had the most intense likes and dislikes 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 conspicuous and important part in the story I am telling.

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 building, facing the great central square of dirt, in the middle of which stood the market, under whose 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 triangular stamp with which he printed the sign manual of his approval upon nearly every despatch which was written by those correspondents 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 were the other appointments of the room. The censor was clad in khaki like 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 Perceval 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 bringing 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; nevertheless, 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 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 Bloemfontein 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 notorious 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 as we pleased.

The other paper was the little Friend of the Free State, owned, as I understand, by an Englishman named Barlow, who was out of the country and had left the property in the care of his son. This younger Barlow had not conducted 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 interests, 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 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 £50 a week during the month of our editorship.

Mr. Landon had already approached Mr. Gwynne and myself with a proposition that we should offer to make good any losses that might occur during our management; but other ideas prevailed.

"No," said the censor, "you cannot be allowed 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 impossible sum to raise.

"Yes, that's all right," Lord Stanley repeated; "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 received, 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 responsible men, and Barlow would be likely to get his money.

I went away to nurse my injured leg, and the other editors went their ways to arrange for getting 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.

Perceval Landon, representing the Times, is a university man, who has been admitted to the bar, and who took up the work of a war correspondent from an Englishman's love of adventure, danger, and excitement. It can be nothing 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 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 diametrical 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 town of Volo from the Greek authorities before the Turks entered the town. Mr. Gwynne has superabundant strength, health, and spirits, loves soldiering and adventure, 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 consult him upon what he knew and saw during the 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 storyteller how instantly, broadly, and accurately he is able to imbibe and absorb the colour and spirit, 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.

CHAPTER II
Its Infancy

A little Thing, puling Great Promises in its Nurses' Arms.

On March 16, 1900, there glimmered (it cannot 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. Of two men whom we got to know one was a gnomish figure who only now and then appeared at large out upon the uncharted floor of the composing-room, and he was elderly and silent—a man 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 editorial 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 noon.

The other printers lived in the little side alleys between the rows of type-cases. They were evidently 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 entombed 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 stationery 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, clinging 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. 1," I never asked them, though I wondered. They did produce it, however, and called it

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 advertisements, 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.

Upon the second page two advertisements were brand new. They were proclamations signed "By order, G. T. Pretyman, Major-General, 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 enterprising 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 Bloemfontein."

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

ARMY ORDERS—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 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 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.

6. Office of Departments.

The offices of the various Departments are situated as shown below:—

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 Depôt 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:—

CAVALRY DIVISION.

• Headquarters—Club, Market Square.
• 1st Brigade—About 2 miles W. of town.
• 2nd Brigade—Bloemspruit, about 3 miles east of town.
• 3rd Brigade—Rustfontein, about 1 mile N. of town.

Mr. James Collins, under State Secretary to the late O.F.S. Government, has been appointed Landdrost 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 announcement that the paper was established by and for Lord Roberts's army:—

EDITORIAL ANNOUNCEMENTS.

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 Governorship. With that end in view, and also to provide for public requirements, a small committee formed from the corps of war correspondents with Lord Roberts's Field Force has been entrusted with the control and management of the long-established paper hitherto known as The Friend of the Free State.

In future this will be issued under the style and title of The Friend, and will be a daily publication, 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 immediate 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 staff of writers as cannot be paralleled elsewhere in South Africa.

In conclusion we wish to state briefly the simple policy which will be adhered to in these columns.

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 prosperity of this country, and the happiness of the people.

For the Committee of Management,

P. Landon,
E. W. Buxton,
H. A. Gwynne.

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

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 answer seemed to us the only answer he could make, whereas the comment upon it by our Colonial editor 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 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 England 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 sufferings of the British, the threats of the semi-civilised men in power, the past troubles all ending in broken promises or shameful neglect by the British 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 sovereignty—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:—

THE HUMOROUS SIDE OF THE CAMPAIGN.

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 humorous side to it, and sometimes the spectre Death wears the cap and bells. Up to the present the campaign has not been without its little amusing incidents. 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 antheaps, and contemplating a shattered tibia, exclaimed, 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 pension 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 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 addressed 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 course.

Then who can resist laughing at the tale of woe unfolded by one of our most distinguished correspondents 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 recognise a single one of them. Was it a failure of memory, 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, thinking that the blow which had so often attacked and destroyed fine intellects had reached his. But sudden 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 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 offer a prize of £5 for the best suggestion for renaming this country.

CANADIANS ON MAJUBA DAY.

On the afternoon of Monday, the 26th February, the 6-in. howitzers bombarded Gen. Cronje's laager 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 account is obtainable. The explosions in appearance 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 fusillade, 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 evident 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 disturbance. The ambulance waggons were already proceeding quickly up the south bank of the river. A pontoon ferry was plying from bank to bank bringing 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 the both banks 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 on 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 Shropshires 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 by the Canadians, and they quietly crept back, gaining 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 surrendered.

PROCLAMATION
TO THE BURGHERS OF THE ORANGE FREE STATE.

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 Government.

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

The British Government believes 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 believes that the responsibility rests wholly with the Government of the Orange Free State, acting, not in the interests of the country, but under mischievous 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 successful 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 according 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, 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 soldiers 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.

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

CHAPTER III
We Publish a "Curio" Number

Also a Kipling Poem, a Bogus Love-letter, and other Novelties.

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

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. Kipling, then in Capetown, with a request for a contribution 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 characteristic of speed where the military make first use of it in time of war.

I should not like 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 16" unaltered on an inside page of this number of the 17th, that issue became a curio among our readers. On the next day copies of the first hundred papers, which were issued before the mistake was noticed, fetched five shillings each. Within a month their price was twenty-five shillings. But that is only a twentieth part of what an odd and not specially 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 previous day's issue; Lord Roberts's congratulation to the Army was published in this number; and there also appeared my "love letter to Miss Bloemfontein."

As this love-correspondence attracted great interest then and was peculiar in its commencement, continuation, and end, I will tell, briefly, what the facts are concerning it. I was invalided and confined to my bedroom in the Free State Hotel, and, being advertised as a contributor, 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, conveying 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 certain other contributions to that day's paper, is herewith republished.

On this day the advertisements for what were then called "lost" horses already numbered three, and, already, we published a communication 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 1, of the newly promulgated constitution of the city without a Steyn—A man may kill a man and live, but a man who steals a horse may not live." 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-ownership, I cannot yet say, but whenever the tale is told it will be discovered to be extraordinary.

THE FRIEND.
(Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Force.)

BLOEMFONTEIN, SATURDAY, MARCH 17, 1900.

LINES BY RUDYARD KIPLING.
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.

From Bobsfontein to Ballyhack
'Tis ordered by the Queen,
We've won our right in open fight
The wearing of the Green.

THE STEYNLESS CITY.
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 forehoof.

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 constitution 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.

TO MISS BLOEMFONTEIN.
A LOVE LETTER.

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 likes 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—prodigalities 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, fancying 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 we found you deserted, all forlorn, we changed from lion 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 astonishing 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-off favourite, that each of us had 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. Without 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 whatever 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.

A recent experience of Mr. Bennet Burleigh and his colleague, Mr. Percy Bullen, of the Daily Telegraph, affords a fitting illustration of the dangers to which those attached to Field Forces are exposed. These two gentlemen left Poplar Grove last Saturday with the object of reaching General Kelly-Kenny's column, which had preceded them by several hours travelling along the high road running almost parallel with the Modder River. Near Abrahamskraal they caught sight of the central division 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 betrayed 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 occupied 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 desperate 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 instructions were quickly followed. Meantime a messenger was sent across to the central division to ask for assistance, as the Boers, though a considerable distance behind, were still shooting. By dint of hard 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 convoy 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 colleague at Poplar Grove, where the entire party passed the night. It was an exciting chase extending 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 riflemen, 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 quantity of horse fodder, whereas his experienced colleague, Mr. Burleigh, arrived in camp with all his goods intact, including a live sheep. It transpired subsequently that the messenger despatched for assistance, 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 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 wonderful exercises of our artillery drivers at the Islington Military Tournament.

CORRESPONDENCE.
CANADIANS ON MAJUBA DAY. BY MAJOR-GENERAL SMITH-DORRIEN.

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 yesterday. 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 Company 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 trenches.

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 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 right.

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

The line was forced to fall back, but only a very small distance, the right of it under Captains 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 further.

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 threatened directions, and was so well traversed with banks and sand-bags that not a single casualty occurred 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 reserve 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 remained partly in the open and partly in the most advanced 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 February.

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

Your account says that our losses were comparatively small; so they were for the results gained, and considering the heavy fire which continued 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 casualties 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 contributor's account of the gallant action of the 27th by General Smith-Dorrien's categorical letter, which supplies details which could hardly be obtained accurately at second-hand.—Eds. Friend).

A COLONIAL HERO.

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 comrade up behind he was himself fatally shot, the bullet passing through his back and out through his chest. He rolled off 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 governor 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.

CHAPTER IV 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 considered how far from any big town she was, and the fact that she was large-footed 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 Christian convert and to repay the hospitality and kindness she had received at the hands of Christian missionaries.

That was what I thought, at any rate, and in that view I told of the happening in Harper's Magazine. 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 innocence 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 civilisation itself was—mere memories, vague and shadowy, beside the substantial realities 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 British 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 noticed her as well. Generals and colonels compared notes of what gossip she and they had exchanged, 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.

Julian Ralph.

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, the 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 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 situation 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 nothing 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 overturning of one of the carts—which seemed for a moment more terrible than capture by the enemy—we reached the farm-house, and aided by several tiny boys and the farmer and his wife, spent a happy hour and a half. We made our way back to Bloemfontein in the evening, and within a day or two Colonels Crabbe and Codrington 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-ordered 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 continued to do the editorial work in the old dustbin, 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 printing office and engine and press rooms were afterward made over to us, the bindery was used by the military, and only the office of the departed editor, whence had proceeded the most mischievous reflections of Krugerism and the policy of the insidious Afrikander Bond, remained sealed. Frau Borckenhagen sent her agents to the military to ask leave to recover some of her husband'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 attention 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 utmost interest to us.

However, we were able by using the commandeered property of the Boer frau, to produce a newspaper of pretentious size and considerable importance.

The Friend now began to bristle with proclamations, 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 exchange and promissory notes; and a third, by General Pretyman, appointed James Allison Collins as "Landdrost of Bloemfontein to administer 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 market proclamation so that it established the ruling prices of cattle, meat, breadstuffs, and groceries. In the Field Marshal's proclamation as translated into the Taal, Lord Roberts was declared to be "Ik (I), Frederick Sleigh Baron Roberts van Kandahar, K.P., G.C.B., G.C.S.I., G.C.I.E., V.C., Veld-maarschalk, 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 published the fact that 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 another member of the editorial quartette wrote a strong little article calling attention to the prevalence and brazenness of horse thieves, and deploring the facts in earnest and indignant language. I was now at work at a desk in the editorial room, and was forced to act as judge between 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 nonsense 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."

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 impartiality. My character and reputation at home forced me to the side of the indignant moralist, 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 between 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 position I would surrender myself a prisoner to the Boers rather than touch even a little 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 stealing is called "commandeering," and seems a trifling thing, rather creditable if practised successfully 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 with them also disappeared the former stain upon my character.

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

THE FRIEND.
(Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Force.)

BLOEMFONTEIN, MONDAY, MARCH 19, 1900.

PROCLAMATION.

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 aforesaid Republic, as far as circumstances permit, Now therefore

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 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. And I do hereby order that the Postal and Telegraph services 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 Seventeenth Day of March, 1900.

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.

Roberts,
Field-Marshal,
Commanding-in-Chief British Forces, South Africa.

ARMY ORDERS—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 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 Staff.

ARMY ORDERS—SOUTH AFRICA.

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 offer 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 12th February this force crossed the boundary which divided the Orange Free State from British territory. Three days later Kimberley was relieved. 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 commencement 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 encountered.

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 effort 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 afford 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 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,
Major-General,
Deputy-Adjutant-General, for Chief of Staff.

ARMY ORDERS—SOUTH AFRICA.

Army Headquarters, Government House,
Bloemfontein, March 16, 1900.

1. 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 Commissioner: "In a spirit of deep thankfulness I congratulate you and your gallant Army on the rapidity and 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."—Admiral.

(d) From Chairman of the London County Council: "On behalf of Metropolis, whence many of your brave soldiers have been drawn, I congratulate 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 offer 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 11, 1900), it is notified for information that Her Majesty orders that all Irishmen, whether serving in Irish Regiments or not, shall be allowed to wear the Shamrock on St. Patrick's Day.

By order,

W. Kelly,
Major-General,
Deputy-Adjutant-General.

NOTICE.

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 issue.

THE CONFESSIONS OF A HORSE-STEALER.

(N.B.—This article is privileged. The Provost Marshal cannot, therefore, take proceedings against the author.)

When somewhere about the beginning of December 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 childhood 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 Colleges 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 members of the force, and even the Provost Marshal will no longer pine to hang me.