These fruits are Liberty, Equality, Justice, and Fraternity to all races over which waves the glorious Red, White, and Blue Flag, the Union Jack.
The boons which we are at present fighting for will cause many a hearth to mourn for the brave sons who lie under the cold stars and the fierce suns of Africa. But as the human parts of these sons enrich the veldt, so will their heroic actions cause countless generations of Boers to bless their coming. They have fought—not out of revenge, but for duty and love of their brothers. They have died for a noble cause, and Africa will yet think of them with pride. While, therefore, we drop a tear over their sacred graves, let it be one of gratitude and pride. Who would not sooner share the grave of a soldier in Africa than grasp the hand of a pro-Boer in England? Who would not sooner lie beside a hero on the veldt than be placed near the statesman who caused all this waste of blood?
That you may forgive all the shortcomings in this book, and be interested in it and its pictures, is the most earnest wish of the writer. If it can keep an Imperialist steadfast when persuaded by crafty traitors, if it can induce a wavering pro-Boer to be once more a faithful son or daughter to Justice and our Empire, then it has more than fulfilled the desires of
ITS AUTHOR.
Yorick Club, 30, Bedford Street, London, W.C.
Chapter One.
At Shebourne Academy.
Three braver, franker, and more chivalrous hearts never beat in male breasts than those that beat under the jackets of Ned Romer, Clarence Raybold, and Fred Weldon.