accompany their fathers on commando.

Yet there came a moment when for the space of a minute a mighty shadow
seemed to brood over the land, and the cold chill of coming evil struck
the nation as if from the clouds. A message had been despatched from
Pretoria to every corner of the country. One word only: War!

The blow had fallen. Nothing could avert a sanguinary struggle. Well the
burghers knew the overwhelming strength of the foe, but they went
blithely forth to meet their fate, strong in a sincere confidence in
Providence. If the worst came to the worst, well, "'twere better to have
fought and lost, than never to have fought at all!"

Of all the branches of the Transvaal Civil Service there was not one
that stood higher in the public estimation at that moment, nor one that
distinguished itself more during the war, than that to which I had the
honour to belong--the Department of Telegraphs. Equipped with the most
up-to-date instruments, composed almost equally of picked men from
England and Holland and of well-trained young Colonials and
Transvaalers, under an energetic chief, our department proved itself,
both before and during the war, second to none, and, the Afrikander
portion at least, worthy of the confidence of the Government.

I had just been transferred from Johannesburg to Pilgrimsrest, a quaint
little one-street village near the Portuguese frontier, one of the
oldest alluvial diggings of the early days, and now the centre of an
important mining district. Here we heard that our commandoes had
invaded the enemy's territory in every direction, and news of the
preliminary engagements was awaited with breathless interest. The male
inhabitants of the village often spent entire nights under the verandah