re
mostly untrained miners and artisans. Among them, however, there was a
sprinkling of dangerous men from the northern wars, and all were nerved
by a knowledge that the ground which they defended was essential to the
Empire. Ladysmith was no more than any other strategic position, but
Kimberley was unique, the centre of the richest tract of ground for its
size in the whole world. Its loss would have been a heavy blow to the
British cause, and an enormous encouragement to the Boers.

On October 12th, several hours after the expiration of Kruger's
ultimatum, Cecil Rhodes threw himself into Kimberley. This remarkable
man, who stood for the future of South Africa as clearly as the Dopper
Boer stood for its past, had, both in features and in character, some
traits which may, without extravagance, be called Napoleonic. The
restless energy, the fertility of resource, the attention to detail,
the wide sweep of mind, the power of terse comment--all these recall
the great emperor. So did the simplicity of private life in the midst of
excessive wealth. And so finally did a want of scruple where an ambition
was to be furthered, shown, for example, in that enormous donation to
the Irish party by which he made a bid for their parliamentary support,
and in the story of the Jameson raid. A certain cynicism of mind and a
grim humour complete the parallel. But Rhodes was a Napoleon of peace.
The consolidation of South Africa under the freest and most progressive
form of government was the large object on which he had expended his
energies and his fortune but the development of the country in every
conceivable respect, from the building of a railway to the importation
of a pedigree bull, engaged his unremitting attention.

It was on October 15th that the fifty thousand inhabitants of Kimberley
first heard the voice of war. It rose and fell in a succession of
horrible screams and groans which travelled far over the veld, and the
outlying farmers marvelled at the dreadful clamour from the sirens and
the hooters of the great mines. Those who have endured all--the rifle,
the cannon, and the hunger--have said that those wild whoops from the
sirens were what had tried their nerve the most.

The Boers in scattered bands of horsemen were thick around the town,
and had blocked the railroad. They raided cattle upon the outskirts,
but made no attempt to rush the defence. The garrison, who, civilian and
military, approached four thousand in number