KOPJE-BOOK MAXIMS. BY RUDYARD KIPLING, PERCEVAL LANDON, AND A. H. GWYNNE.

Various.

You cannot argue with a Shell, a Mule or a Press Censor.

The nearer to the Press Censor the further from Truth.

(N.B.—This is generally guaranteed by the Press Censor.)

It's a wise Field Marshal that knows his own Generals.

It's a long front that has no turning.

"A shell in time saves nine," as the 4'7 said when it opened on the sniper.

"Heaven helps those who help themselves," as ——'s Horse said when they found the poultry yard.

Providence and the Company Officer have a great deal to look after.

Between two rivers, drink Modderietly.

It's always the next shell that will do the trick.

Five under cover is fifty in the open.

PRICES IN BLOEMFONTEIN.

When you've tightened up your waistbelt just a pair of holes or so, When you've tackled your last bit of armoured "duff," Then you put your bally pipe on, and you puff and spit and blow, And you realize half ration ain't enough. You go into the market and you purchase lots of grub Off the farmers whom friend Steyn has done a scoot from, And when you ask the price of it, that's where you cop the rub, For it takes away your breath just like a pom-pom.

Duke's son, Cook's son, all of 'em want their scoff, Fifty thousand horse and foot struggling to get some grub, Each of 'em doing his country's work, and each being done in turn, If you want to buy things in Bloemfontein you must pay! pay! pay!

When they charge a "bob" for hair-cut and a tanner for a shave, It makes you say things that you didn't ought, And the 'umble loaf of "rootey" costs a tanner, or a bob, Is this the kind of sympathy they're taught? There's a luxury called butter that Tommy likes to buy, And he'll have it if he's got the oof, you bet, But three bob a bloomin' pound makes a hole in Atkins' pay 'Cos he ain't paid C'lonial wages (not just yet).

Clerk's son, Grocer's son, son of a Haberdasher, All the Gents in Khaki chucking their pelf away, Each of 'em's done his country's work, It's hard to be done in turn, If you want to buy grub in Bloemfontein you've to pay! pay! pay!

When you've tightened up your waistbelt just a pair of holes or so, When you lay yourself out flat and go to sleep, Then you dream of home and mother and some glorious feasts to go, And you wake up, pray, and find you've done a weep; For you've dreamt that bread and butter's gone up 3d. more in price, (These loyal (?) folks charge really what they choose, sir), Then you say, "Well, roll on, England," where there ain't no bloomin' lice, And where there's many a cheap and comfy booser.

Merchant's son, Cook's son, sons of the plebs galore, Rushing, in ragged Khaki, anxious to spend their brass, Each of 'em's done his country's work, but the extra bob a day Don't go far in Bloemfontein, where you've always to pay! pay! pay!

"Blobswitch."

SONS OF BRITAIN. BY W. BLELOCH.

When the bugle call to battle sounds Afar in the land of our birth, In the cause of race and Queen to fight, We rise from the ends of the earth. Wherever the battle may be We rally by land and by sea To join in the fight of the free, And our foemen have Britons to face.

Chorus:

Then Britain's sons again Fill up the ranks with men, Who'll fight! who'll die! Whose battle-cry: "True Britons we remain."

We are sons of Britain every one With pride of the blood of our race, And we'll carry Britain's story on As our fathers did in their place. Whatever the work to be done, We seek a full share, every one, And fighting till victory's won Of the burden and glory we claim,

Chorus:

Then Britain's sons again, &c.

The glorious deeds her great have done Are ours, whether Saxon or Celt, As heirs of their name and fame we come From snows and from bush and from veldt. Our honour we'll ever keep bright, By holding the front of the fight, And jealously guarding the right For our sons and their sons again.

Chorus:

Then Britain's sons again, &c.

ORANGE PEEL.

It may interest our friends at the Cape to know that a certain doctor, who lives not 1,000 miles from the Paarl—and who came on ambulance business to the Free State—was very busy on his arrival here, giving it out as the news of the day that "officers of the English Army were busy with sjamboks driving Tommy off the boats as Tommy did not want to fight." This statement was made in the Bloemfontein Club before several witnesses and is quite authentic.

"THE BRAVEST DEED."

It was at the battle of Abraham's Kraal. The Boers had fled from a position which we now occupied. They, in their flight, had to cross the open veldt to another kopje three-quarters of a mile from the first. We fired volley after volley into their huddled masses. My old friend standing by me noticed a wounded Boer trying to escape. He immediately dashed out amid a perfect hail of bullets, caught the escaping Boer, threw him across his shoulders and dashed back to cover, the bullets falling all round him. Unscathed himself, his burden was shot to death.

Private A. J. Hard, N.S.W. Mounted Infantry, Australia.

Dear Sir,—The bravest deed I witnessed while with the 6th Division was the following:—

It was at Paardeberg on Sunday, 18th February, about 5 p.m. We were watching a hill overlooking Osfontein farm-house, when some of the enemy were seen to enter the garden surrounding that house. So an order was given by Second Lieutenant Romilly for No. 1 section of the above-named company to advance and try and drive them out. We commenced the advance by short rushes, meanwhile the enemy sending down a few shots. We succeeded in getting to within four hundred yards of the house when a perfect hail of bullets came, both from the house and hill. Then the order came to retire, as the fire was becoming too hot to attempt to get any closer. It was during this retirement that what I saw happened. One of our men, Pte. Driscoll, was shot in the back, and down he fell, badly hurt, when Second Lieutenant Romilly, on seeing him fall, at once knelt down and dressed his wound, doing it as coolly as if on a drawing-room floor. After doing this, with the help of Pte. Brown of the same Company, he hurried the man back to safer quarters, having to go a distance of over four hundred yards before being out of danger. The bullets fell all around them quite thick. How they managed to escape is quite marvellous, as several bullets went through their clothing, and one, as I heard the officer say, went between his lips—a close shave indeed!

Whether any recognition will be forthcoming for the above gallant deed, I cannot say, as there were none of those who occupy higher positions to testify as to its correctness; but the men certainly deserve something for so brave a deed.

I am, Sir, yours faithfully,

An Eye-witness.