my dead comrade and friend—Sit tibi terra levis!

Another motive, or perhaps more than one, "pricked the sides of my intent," and invited me to wield the pen upon a soil where erst I had drawn a "regulation" sword. In the "unvexed silence of a student's cell," i.e., London chambers, I could only watch the progress of the campaign, without hoping to share in its toils or its dangers. I might envy, but I could not participate—

In default of this, I could, however, follow in spirit the adventures, by flood and field, of more than a score of old comrades and companions in arms, who were winning honour and renown in a land not unfamiliar to me. In the hasty and, with all deference I say it, somewhat ignorant criticism of those amateur mentors who tell us how battles ought or ought not to be won, and who, from the calm solitudes of Fleet Street, would make or mar a military reputation, I venture to believe, was much injustice done to the Commander-in-chief of our forces in South Africa.

And I was the more convinced of this partisan and hostile feeling from the knowledge that, west of Temple Bar, and especially in the regions where veterans do most congregate, in the clubs and haunts alike of vieilles moustaches and military neophytes, from the "Senior" to the "Naval and Military," criticism was far less pronounced, and experience, as it invariably is, was more moderate in stricture and charitable in argument than elsewhere.

Lastly, the tragic fate of England's young chivalrous and knightly guest, which formed such a terrible episode of the war and draped our colours with mourning, even in the hour of victory, made a deep impression upon my mind, and caused me insensibly to marvel at the unworthy sentiments to which a large portion of the English public and the English press at that time gave utterance. Political feeling seemed then, as it now seems in poor Ireland, to override all sense of manly honour, generosity, hospitality, or common decency. The slaughter, for it was nothing less, of the princely and noble lad, who came to the shores of his country's hereditary foe, as a messenger of hope, alliance and future friendship, who had been taught by his father to love and study our English laws and customs, and who, in his abandonment in that fatal donga, must have felt shame for the comrades to whom his safety was entrusted; the sacrifice, I say, of this pure and devoted spirit, seemed to me to call for some record, less evanescent than a passing note or a newspaper article. If I have spoken strongly of the living in my sorrow for the dead, as a soldier I can but plead in vindication, that, in all my remembrance of the records of our English army I can recall no instance, save the one I have quoted, where an officer wearing our royal uniform and holding a royal commission, galloped away in front of his escort, and allowed a comrade to be done to death in unknightly fashion!

In conclusion I may say that this little work, although written con amore and from details furnished to me by my friend, Captain the Hon. E. V. Wyatt-Edgell, and others, lays no claim to historical value, but assumes to be merely the impressions de voyage of those who were actors in the scenes described.

Hare Court, Temple,
Nov. 1880.

CONTENTS.