otting on our wharves and in our cities, food that ought with ordinary
management to be within easy reach of our fighting generals. Britain asks
of Rundle the fulfilment of a task that would tax the energies and
abilities of the first general in Europe; and with a stout heart he faces
the work in front of him, faces it with men whose knees knock under them
when they march, with hands that shake when they shoulder their
rifles--shake, but not with fear; tremble, but not from wounds, but from
weakness, from poverty of blood and muscle, brought about by continual
hunger. Are those men fit to storm a kopje? Are they fit to tramp the whole
night through to make a forced march to turn a position, and then fight as
their fathers fought next day?

I tell you no. And yours be the shame if the Empire's flag be lowered--not
theirs, but yours; for you--what do you do? You stand in your music-halls
and shout the chorus of songs full of pride for your soldier, full of
praise for his patience, his pluck, and his devotion to duty; and you let
him go hungry, so hungry that I have often seen him quarrel with a nigger
for a handful of raw mealies on the march. It is so cheap to sing,
especially when your bellies are full of good eating; it costs nothing to
open your mouths and bawl praises. It is pleasant to swagger and brag of
"your fellows at the front;" but why don't you see that they are fed, if
you want them to fight? Give "Tommy" a lot less music and flapdoodle, and a
lot more food of good quality, and he'll think a heap more of you. It is
nice of you to stay in Britain and drink "Tommy's" health, but there would
be far more sense in the whole outfit if you would allow him to "eat his
own" out here.

THE FREE STATERS' LAST STAND.

SLAP KRANZ.

At last the blow has fallen which has shattered the Boer cause in the Free
State. There will be skirmishes with scattered bands in the mountain gorges
beyond Harrismith, but the backbone of the Republic has been broken beyond
redemption. Sunday, the 30th of July, was big with fate, though we who sat
almost within the shadow of the snow enshrouded hills of savage Basutoland
at the dawning of that day knew it not. It was a joyful day for us, though
pregnant with sorrow for the veldtsmen who had fought so long and well for
their doomed cause, for on that day our generals reaped the harvest which
the