er done; and
as the second afternoon hastened to its sunset hour, we were gleefully
informed that "the brother" had once more "staggered humanity" by a
precipitate retreat from positions of apparently impregnable strength.
So Brandfort passed into our hands for all that it was worth, which
did not seem to be much; but what little there was, no man looted. All
was bought and paid for as in Piccadilly; but at more than Piccadilly
prices. Whatever else however could be purchased, no liquor was on
sale; no intemperance was seen; no molestation of woman or child took
place. So was it with rare exceptions from the very first; so was it
with very rare exceptions to the very last.

[Sidenote: _"Stop the War" slanders._]

In this respect my assistant-chaplain, the Rev. W. Burgess, assures me
that his experience tallies with mine, and he told me this tale as
illustrative of it. At Hoekfontein he called at a farmhouse close to
our camp, and in it he found an old woman of seventy and her husband,
of whom she spoke as nearly ninety. "Do you believe in God?" she asked
the chaplain, and added, "so do I, but I believe in hell as well; and
would fling De Wet into it if I could." Then she proceeded to explain
that her first husband was killed in the last war; that of her three
sons commandeered in this war one was already slain, and that when the
other two returned from the fighting line De Wet at once sent to fetch
them back.

"But look at the broken panel of that door," said the old lady. "Your
men did that when I would not answer to their knocks, and they stole
my fowls." "Very well," replied Burgess, "where yonder red flag is
flying you will find General Ian Hamilton; go and tell him your
story." As the result, a staff officer sent to inspect the premises
asked the Dutch dame whether food or money should be given her by way
of compensation, and whether L15 would fully cover all her loss? She
seemed overwhelmingly pleased at such an offer in payment for a broken
panel and a few fowls. "Very good," added the staff officer.
"To-morrow I will send you L20, but," quoth he to Burgess, "we'll make
the scouts that broke the panel pay the twenty!"

In spite of all the real and the imaginary horrors recorded in "War
against War," this has been the most humanely conducted struggle the
world has ever seen; but would to God it were well over.

[Sidenote: _A prisoner who tried to be a poet._]

In the yard of the little town jail I saw nine