War's Brighter Side Part 44

So I says when I 'ad left the bloomin' jug, "I must strike a bigger blow to set us free; I must play a n.o.bler game." So I forges Rothschild's name, 'Cause the bloke 'ad no more right to it than me.

Now, living in a 'ouse acrost the street, There used to be a very tasty gal; She'd curly 'air and dainty 'ands and feet, And was married to my very dearest pal.

'E says to me, says 'e, "When you're our way Step in, old cull, and 'ave a dish o' tea."

Thinks I, "My dooty this is." So I offs it with 'is missis, 'Cause the bloke 'ad no more right to 'er than me.

But I won't be beat by any bloomin' lor, To 'ave my rights, I tell yer straight, I'm game; And, once I gets outside this prison door, I'll strike another blow in Freedom's name-- The lor and all its engines I defy, From the Stepper to the gloomy gallows-tree; I'll go and get a knife, and I'll take some joker's life, 'Cause the bloke 'as no more right to it than me."

_For my motto is: All should be common to all, This covey is equal to that; And if I'm short you've no right to be tall, If I'm thin you've no right to be fat.

To call me a criminal's fair tommy-rot, It's on principle all what I've done: Yet, perish me, all the reward as I've got Is my number_--201.

"SMART."

BY MARK THYME.

(_Being a few hints to any of the fair citizens of this town who may contemplate spending a season or two in London._)

Ye Belles of Bloemfontein, pray hearken unto me, And I'll show you how to sparkle in polite Society.

Never fear that you'll be visited with contumely or scorn If you happen not to be aristocratically born, For mere birth is not essential to means, if only you Have the luck to be related to a brewer or a few; And if only you have money, you need never be afraid To swagger of the swindles of your former days of trade.

And your friends, as they receive you to their heart, Each to each will the opinion impart: "She is vulgar, I admit, I don't like her, not a bit, But then you know, my dear, she's smart."

Your dress must be--well--daring! You must have a tiny waist And the colours must be splashed about in execrable taste.

Your bodice may be decent while you've still the gift of youth, But must lower in proportion as you're longer in the tooth.

The colour of your hair and your complexion must appear To vary with the fashionable fancies of the year, And though your wit lack l.u.s.tre, the tiara must be bright That you've hired out from a jeweller's at ten-and-six a night.

And your friends, as they receive you to their heart, Each to each will the opinion impart: "Looks quite odd, I must admit, I don't like her, not a bit, But then you know, my dear, she's smart."

Then, as to conversation, let each syllable you speak Be vehemently vapid or else pruriently weak; Tell some tales distinctly risky, if not actually obscene, While artfully pretending that you don't know what they mean.

In the intervals of slander you must prate in flippant tone On some Theologic subject that you'd better leave alone; And, though your speech be witless, nay, to some may seem absurd, It matters not if reputations die at every word.

And your friends, as they receive you to their heart, Each to each the opinion will impart: "She's ill-natured, I admit, I don't like her, not a bit, But then you know, my dear, she's smart."

Your parties must be "tidy," so to bring about these ends Find some lady with a t.i.tle who likes living on her friends; Hint that you'll supply the money that's essential to the task, If only she will condescend to tell you whom to ask.

On your former friends and relatives politely close the door, Though they may have been of service in the days when you were poor, Be each guest of yours a beauty, full of pride, A tiara on her head, a co-respondent by her side.

And your friends, as they receive you to their heart, Each to each will the opinion impart: "She's a sn.o.b, I quite admit, I don't like her, not a bit, But then you know, my dear, she's smart."

OUR PORTRAIT GALLERY.

We have to announce the arrival in Bloemfontein of Mr. Burdett-Coutts, of London, of whom we have secured a portrait which we present to our readers.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FRIEND's front page.]

CHAPTER XXVI

WANTED, A MILLIONAIRE

_A number as sparkling as a string of jewels--Joke Portrait Number Two._

A singular thing about THE FRIEND was that the readers could make sure at a glance, each afternoon, what had been the spirits of the editors earlier in the day. The issue of April 13th was positively frisky. We were all in our gayest moods, and the princ.i.p.al page was made to sparkle with most unlooked-for fun and flashes of wit.

Mr. Landon set out with his pen in search of an English millionaire who would supply us daily with a budget of home news cabled direct to us from London. Continually disappointed by the non-arrival of the Reuter despatches, he urged that some wealthy man should pay to have a long special cablegram sent to us daily, with a hint of all the world's happenings. "To us," did I say? no; for, as Mr. Landon expressed it, "All there is of THE FRIEND belongs to the Army. Its existence began for the soldier, and its profits pa.s.s back to his interests. If some of the kind-hearted people in England who are so ready to put their hands in their pockets in the interests of 'The Soldiers of the Queen,' only knew what the dearth of news from England means to the men, they would at once supply the want." It is too late now. That editorial never was copied in the English papers, I suppose; but you millionaires who want to reach Heaven--and you others who want to earn handles to put before your names--remember this in the next war, and send news to your army wherever it is halted in the field.

We found that the newsboys were charging two-pence for THE FRIEND, and that many complaints were pouring in upon us; therefore, in the blackest type, I rhymed to the readers--that being the most likely way to impress them with the truth--in couplets such as this--

Who pays a penny for THE FRIEND, Pays all he needs to gain his end.

and this--

Whoever pays us more than a penny, Should guard his brains, if he has any.

Fancy me dropping into rhyme! But, as I have said, the "Tommies" all did verse--or worse--and the example was epidemically contagious.

Perhaps in another month we should have all turned versifiers, and produced copies of THE FRIEND wholly in rhyme.

In this number we published portrait No. 2 of our unique gallery, selecting Lord Stanley as the subject. My son Lester had made a cartoon in which the censor figured, and with which, for a very peculiar reason, Lord Stanley was not pleased, but this second venture of the family to do him justice in portraiture was eminently successful. It was precisely the same picture as that which we called a portrait of Mr. Burdett-Coutts on the previous day, but though Lord Stanley knew the joke no one else saw it. One of the censor's friends took from me a damp fresh copy of the paper, as I came out of the works with an armful, and looking at the portrait remarked, "I say, I did not know that Lord Stanley had an imperial--'goatee,' as you call it--funny I never noticed that he wears one. Devilish good portrait; clever of you to publish it." Mr. Burdett-Coutts was the only other man beside Lord Stanley to understand what we were doing. He fathomed the joke because we explained it to him, and I sincerely hope that he appreciated the pure fun and harmless pleasantry of the spirit in which it was conceived and carried out.

We had, from a coloured man, a letter complaining that we declared the British policy to be "equal rights for all white men, without respect of race or creed." To this he objected. He said that we were advocating the policy of the Republics, and added, "I would like to point out to you that when once your policy is known in this colony by our people it will cause universal dissatisfaction." He was presumably one of those natives, most numerous in the towns, who, by reason of their intelligence and ambition, deserve most helpful, generous consideration. But the "Universal dissatisfaction" which he threatened would include a myriad negroes of the Karroo and the so-called "farms"

of the Boers. These form the ma.s.s of the natives; clothed in their complexions and living in huts of twigs and matting. Equality with white men can be offered to them by statute; but they cannot realise it, and the world has seen mischief, unhappiness, and perplexing political problems result from over-haste in this direction.

We did succeed in arousing an artist to defend his calling against the boasts of the mechanical manipulation of the camera. Mr. W. B. Wollen, R.I., was the champion of art, and he spoke for it with the ardour of conviction, and the force of one who is right and cannot be gainsaid.

I cannot think why we omitted to call upon Mortimer Menpes, Esq., the distinguished painter, then in Bloemfontein, to add his views to the series of letters we hoped to secure upon this subject, the Camera _v._ Art. Mr. Menpes had come to the war because, he said, nothing else was talked or thought of in London, and an exhibition of paintings of ordinary subjects, such as he gives with distinguished success each year, would have fallen flat. He was very busy, very popular, and very successful with the army. This issue (April 13) contained a witty letter by him upon the postage stamp craze.

PRICE: PRICE: ONE PENNY. THE FRIEND. ONE PENNY.

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

BLOEMFONTEIN, GOOD FRIDAY, APRIL 13, 1900.

PROCLAMATION.

TO THE INHABITANTS OF THE DISTRICTS OF ALBERT, STEYNSBURG, MOLTENO, WODEHOUSE, ALIWAL NORTH, BARKLY EAST AND COLESBERG.

On the recent retirement of the enemy to the north of the Orange River, the rebels who had joined them in the Northern Districts of Cape Colony were treated by Her Majesty's Government with great leniency in being permitted, if not the ringleaders of disaffection, to return to their farms on the condition of surrendering their arms and of being liable to be called to account for their past conduct.

I now warn the inhabitants of the Northern Districts, and more particularly those who were misguided enough to join or a.s.sist the enemy, that, in the event of their committing any further act of hostility against Her Majesty, they will be treated, as regards both their persons and property, with the utmost rigour, and the extreme penalties of Martial Law will be enforced against them.

ROBERTS, Field Marshal, Commander-in-Chief, South Africa.

Army Headquarters, Bloemfontein, _April 9, 1900_.

OUR PORTRAIT GALLERY.