The events of the last six months promised to involve a more vast amount of repair and a longer period of recuperation, especially for agriculture, than would have been anticipated at the commencement of hostilities. Still, having regard to the fact that both the Rand and Kimberley were virtually undamaged, and that the main engines of prosperity, when once set going again, would not take very long to get into working order, the economic consequences of the war, though grave, did not appear by any means appalling. The country population it was admitted would need a good deal of help, first to preserve it from starvation, and then, probably, to supply it with a certain amount of capital to make a fresh start. And the great industry of the country would require some little time before it would be able to render any assistance. But, in a young country with great recuperative powers, many years would not elapse before the economic ravages of the war would be effaced. Still, the moral effect of the recrudescence of the war was lamentable. Everywhere after the occupation of Pretoria the inhabitants had seemed resigned to the state of affairs--the feeling in the colony had been one of acquiescent relief. The rebellious element was glad of the opportunity to settle down. Had these people been shut off from communication with the enemy they would have maintained their calm, and engaged themselves with their former peaceful pursuits. As it was, while the great advance to Pretoria, and subsequently to Delagoa Bay, demanded the presence of the British troops in the north, the country was left open to raiders, who daily grew more audacious as the small successes of their guerilla leaders appeared to give promise of a turn of fortune's wheel. And now came the real tug of war. These raiders, both on the brink of the Orange Colony and the Southern Transvaal, kept the peaceable inhabitants of the colony in an unenviable quandary. These, and many others, on taking the oath of neutrality, instead of being made prisoners of war, had been permitted to return to their farms. But under pressure from their old comrades, they now wavered between the obligations of their oath and the calls of friendship--and many of them fell. Men who had been exceptionally well treated were again in arms, sometimes justifying their break of faith by the poor apology that they had not been "preserved from the temptation to commit it." Naturally, on the return of the troops to again quell a rising in the south, their conduct was not marked by the same leniency which had characterised the original conquest. Still, these parole breakers were not punished with the severity which might have been meted out to them in the same circumstances by other nations. Though we were by the rules of war entitled to shoot men who had broken their parole, we had not availed ourselves of the right.