Suddenly all the cannon ceased to roar and a dead stillness reigned for a moment, but only for a moment, for here comes the long line of cavalry at full gallop. It rapidly approaches and when within about 100 yards of the police there was a ring of musketry heard that positively filled me with an ecstacy of joy. The police were still alive, and with such rapidity did they use their rifles, and to such good effect, that saddles were emptied fast, and loose horses were running frantically across the veldt, some dragging wounded men whose feet were caught in the stirrups. They could not stand such a deadly fire, and turned and fled back, the police continuing to mow them down. They form line, are re-enforced, and again they charge, only to be driven back as before after a heavy loss. Four charges were made, and four times the charges were driven back, and no doubt a fifth charge would have followed had General Botha not ordered the police to retire. These brave men retired as coolly as they had passed through the seven hours' shell storm, and four times driven back that long line of cavalry. Of the seventy-two men, nineteen were killed and wounded, among the killed being three officers. Lord Roberts, who arrived at twenty minutes to one o'clock, according to his own report, pronounced this the severest bombardment of the war, and could not understand why the whole Boer force was not annihilated. Of course, Lord Roberts came up just as the battle was over, to save General Buller the trouble of making his report announcing a victory. There is no getting round the fact that Roberts is cute and smart and knows how to use the pen and steal the credit that belongs to others. He certainly deserves the title of Lord, or Earl, or any big-sounding name like that, with at least double the number of letters in the alphabet following it as a tail, for he has the gall to keep his title up to the high-water mark. General Botha having ordered a retreat, of course Lord Roberts hastened back to Pretoria to issue another proclamation. He didn't say very much this time, for he was very tired sending cablegrams telling of his great victory, but he still had strength enough to proclaim the war at an end, annex the Transvaal to the British Empire, entreat the burghers to come in like good boys and lay down their arms, and forget his many dastardly deeds.