mighty roar of the multitude. The "National Anthem" swelled out thunderously with volume that was almost awe-striking as the combined voice of a Handel Festival, and shouts for the Lord Mayor grew and grew, and became deafening as that honoured citizen and splendid patriot showed himself. He then delivered the following speech: "I wish the music of your cheers could reach Mafeking. For seven long weary months a handful of men has been besieged by a horde. We never doubted what the end would be. British pluck and valour when used in a right cause must triumph. The heart of every one of you vibrates with intense loyalty and enthusiasm, I know, and the conscience of every one of you assures you that we have fought in a righteous and just cause." The crowd, incapable of silence for very long, broke into "Rule, Britannia," and when this outburst of emotion was expended, the Lord Mayor continued: "We have fought for our most glorious traditions of equality and freedom, not for ourselves alone, but for the men of all those nations who have settled in South Africa and who were under the protection of the British flag." Three cheers for Colonel Baden-Powell were then called for, and three for Lord Roberts, and these having been heartily given, he said: "The people of Bloemfontein and Mafeking are now singing 'God Save the Queen'; you can do it for yourselves." This they proceeded to do not once but twenty times through the livelong hours of the night. Meanwhile the following practical telegram was despatched by the Lord Mayor:-- "_To_ BADEN-POWELL, Mafeking, _via_ Cape Town. "Citizens London relieved and rejoiced by good news just received. Your gallant defence will long live in British annals. Cable me what money wanted for needs of garrison and inhabitants after long privations. "ALFRED NEWTON, _Lord Mayor_." At the same time a huge portrait of Colonel Baden-Powell was displayed in front of the Mansion House, and the strains of "God Save the Queen" and "Rule, Britannia" were now intermingled with the lively tune of "For he's a jolly good fellow." These combined choruses were echoed and re-echoed, and carried along like a gigantic stream of sound into the suburbs of London, into sleeping Kensington and remote Clapham, so that men and women turned in their beds--sat up, terrified at first, then realising the situation, gave up thought of rest, and listened with swelling hearts to the triumphant din. And so, on and on--through the night till morning broke!