Perhaps the march past of the united relief columns was the most unique and imposing ceremony ever performed within the confines of such a "chicken-run." Here, in this tiny compass, the whole empire veritably met together--South Africans, Australians, Canadians, English, Scots, and Irishmen, Indians, Cape Boys--all following one another, unit after unit, like some quaint scenic procession of the nations. There were the bronzed colonels--Baden-Powell, and Mahon, and Plumer, now household names throughout the world--accompanied by their staffs, the _élite_ of the embattled array. There were the glorious 12-pounders--M Battery of the Royal Horse Artillery, whose every limber looked dear to the eyes that long had been strained in eagerness for their coming--and their guardians, the helmeted band of staunch and sturdy gunners, who carried the voice of Empire far and wide--there were the plumed and mettlesome Colonials, very fighting-cocks at the sniff of war--there was the lion rampant in the form of the Union Brigade (the picked portions of it from the Royal Fusiliers, Royal Scots, Royal Welsh Fusiliers, and Royal Irish Fusiliers), a right regal company, the very sight of which in common times would have caused the heart of Britons to throb, and which now sent the cup of patriotic rapture brimming over. Cheers or tears? Shouts or sobs? It was a "toss"-up which would supersede the other, and amid the stupendous _fracas_ even the dauntless hero of this unparalleled, soul-stirring outburst turned aside that none should view the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. The painter, when he depicted Agamemnon in the hour of sublime sacrifice, drew a veil over the features of the chief. He judged the supreme moment of human exultation too sanctified for common gaze. Even so must we draw the veil of silence over this supreme moment in the life of the saviour of Mafeking ... the soundless epic is the more sonorous. The parade over, addresses were presented and the usual formalities gone through. The gratitude of the town for the relief--the appreciation of the magnificent work done by Colonel Baden-Powell, and the stupendous energy of the succouring forces, were all dilated on and thanks returned. A hailstorm of cheers then broke out--cheers for Queen and country, for Baden-Powell, Mahon, Plumer, Colonel Rhodes, Major Karri Davies; in fact, every one cheered every one else, for all were too deserving, too heroic, to overlook the deserts and heroism of those who had imperilled their lives over and over again to maintain the prestige of their native land. So passed the day, and at night chums and comrades gathered together and jested and laughed, and told yarns of skirmish and sortie and surprise, till they sank to sleep in their greatcoats and blankets, fairly worn out with their eleven days and nights of boot and saddle.