From the old country and
from every British colony all over the world these men of one race, in a
common crisis, here for one moment meet, look into each others' faces,
drink, and greet and pass on; to be drawn back each to his own quarter
of the globe and separated when the crisis is passed and not to meet
again. But what a moment and what a meeting it is, and what a
distinction for this little place. Organise your mass meetings and pack
your town-halls, you never will get together such a sample of the
British Empire as you will see any afternoon in this remote pothouse.
What would you give for a peep at the show; to see the types and hear
the talk? You would give a hundred pounds, I daresay. I wish I could
take you one of these afternoons: I would do it for half the money.
You can see the great mountain of Thaba Nchu quite clearly from here,
though it is forty miles away, and trace every ravine and valley in its
steep sides, defined in pure blue shadows. We have been out there these
last ten days on what is known as a "bill-sticking" expedition;
distributing, that is, a long proclamation which Lord Roberts has just
issued, in which he explains to the Free State Burghers that all their
property will be respected, and they will be allowed themselves to
return to their farms forthwith if they will just take a little quiet
oath of allegiance to the British Crown.
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