A copy of a Boer proclamation, which had been wafted into Kimberley by a cynical breeze, gave rise to much astonishment and criticism.  In substance, it presented the Transvaalers with all territory north of the Vaal river; the Free Staters with the Cape Colony; and the British with—­the sea!  The Colonel read and appreciated the excellence of the joke, but thought it politic to give people who lacked a sense of humour a little illumination.  He, accordingly, issued a counter-proclamation which made the “point” of the other clear:  it was not to be taken seriously.  The British element, which largely predominated, found scope for their humour in the Boer proclamation; that the enemy should limit his pretensions to portions of a single continent was surprising. Punch subsequently published a cartoon which represented President Steyn artistically painting all territory south of the Equator a pleasing Orange hue.  Oom Paul, looking on in dismay, enquires:  “Where do I come in?” “Oh,” Steyn replies airily, “there is the rest of the British Empire.”

But to return to the proclamations.  Colonel Kekewich had yet another to draft; the conduct of the natives compelled it.  Many of the aborigines were addicted to drinking more than was good for them of a species of brandy—­a fiery concoction, with a “body” in it, called Cape Smoke.  They staggered through the streets, rolled their eyes, flourished big sticks, and sang songs of Kafirland in a key that did not make for harmony.  So the Colonel reasoned that he might as well write out another proclamation while he was about it, and had pen and ink convenient.  He restricted the sale of “smoke,” and decreed that all Kafir bars and canteens were to remain open between the hours of ten and four o’clock only.  He also provided for the imposition of heavy penalties upon all and sundry who dared to disobey.

The bar-keepers, it need hardly be said, were angry; it was going rather too far, they thought.  Was it the province of a military man to advocate, still less to enforce, temperance?  Had not the “black” an “equal right” to quench his thirst?  The canteen-men thought so; some of them, indeed, were sure of it, and went so far as to defy “despot sway,” by ignoring it.  They continued ministering to the needs of the horny-handed sons of toil.  But the police—­miserable time-servers—­would do their duty; they were forced to uphold the Colonel’s law, and to requisition the services of the celebrated local “trappers.”  The rebel Bonifaces were thus duly indicted, arraigned before the Summary Court, and heavily fined or deprived of their licenses.

The death of a sergeant of the Diamond Fields’ Artillery threw a gloom over the city.  He was mourned for as one who, indirectly, had sacrificed his life in defence of Kimberley.  It was our first casualty; and made us wonder how many more there were to be—­or rather, if there were to be any more.