By order,
W. Kelly,
Major-General,
Deputy-Adjutant-General.
NOTICE.
The first hundred copies of our last issue—Saturday, March 17, were, by accident, wrongly dated under the title on the front page.
The Editors are willing to pay Five Shillings each for a few clean copies of this portion of the issue.
THE CONFESSIONS OF A HORSE-STEALER.
(N.B.—This article is privileged. The Provost Marshal cannot, therefore, take proceedings against the author.)
When somewhere about the beginning of December I arrived at Modder River, I think I may say I was as honest as the generality of mankind. I do not remember any incident in my early childhood and youth which could in any way have been cited as a proof that I had predatory instincts. At home I never stole, at schools I never stole, at Colleges I never stole, and during several years of wandering about the face of the globe I never stole. But since I accompanied Lord Roberts' force from Enslin to Bloemfontein I have stolen freely, and I as freely admit it. Why? Ah, the answer to that question involves deep ethical considerations, and cannot be answered right off. Let me tell my tale, and I fancy that I shall receive the sympathy of most members of the force, and even the Provost Marshal will no longer pine to hang me.