War's Brighter Side Part 14

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 Honble. Mr. J. G.

Fraser; the Private Secretary; the Military Secretary; Major General Kelly, Colonel Richardson, Mr. Justice Hopley, Colonel Stevenson, Colonel Viscount Downe, Lieut. Colonel Otter, Captain Bearcroft, Lieut. Colonel Ricardo, Colonel H. C. Cholmondeley, 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 proposed 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 murmur 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 regard for their personal safety, had not allowed them to go as close as they could wish to the pa.s.sing 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, replied, 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 suitable reply.

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

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

CHAPTER IX

"OH, HOW GOOD IT WAS!"

_All Ranks join our Corps of Contributors, and the Oasis of Literature sparkles like a Fountain in a Desert._

Generals, colonels, majors, captains, subalterns, 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 and importance proportionately greater, I think, than that of any newspaper then published in the language. Its circulation rose among the thousands whereas 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 appreciation of the character, life, and work of the 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 contributed 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 ent.i.tled "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 contributor 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 poke-hole, and beginning with a "Now, what shall I do? Write a poem, fill out cables, 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."

"Oh, how good it is to be at work in a newspaper 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 carefully finished and matured work we are now seeing 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, perhaps, 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 tremendous energy and ceaseless flow of wit and fancy were his by nature, and would have found expression 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 Barlow'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 us he consigned the Dutch compositor to aeons of boiling torment for the trouble his errors gave us. With us 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 office. And from us he insisted upon taking all the "Tommy poetry," as we called it, that came to the office. When we derided 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 splendid stuff! Listen to these lines--'Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves: Britons never, never, never shall be slaves!'" The reader will not find this particular poem in this book, though it was put in THE FRIEND by our distinguished poetry editor.

THE FRIEND.

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

SAt.u.r.dAY, MARCH 24, 1900.

FABLES FOR THE STAFF.[2]

[Footnote 2: Copyrighted in England and America; used here by Mr.

Kipling's leave.]

KING LOG AND KING STORK.

BY RUDYARD KIPLING.

I.

Certain Boers, having blown up a Bridge, departed in the Face of the British Army, which, arriving at that dynamited Place, made Outcry to the G.o.ds, 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 Authorities; "what would you now have?"

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

COMMANDEERING.

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

The fas.h.i.+on is to say he "commandeers" 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 blooming 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 commandeering 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 commandeered it.

ANONYMOUS.

SIR WILLIAM LOCKHART.

BY SIR WILLIAM NICHOLSON, K.C.B.