The first part of the lesson has been learned, and men of all ranks in life are vying with each other in their desire to serve their country in any capacity, however humble. This is good, but the lesson has not been entirely taken to heart yet. It will not do for England to have to wait for an hour of danger before these men come to the front. They must always be there at hand when required, and it behoves the Government at home to so legislate as to make permanent in the ranks of our army those classes of men who are now in it temporarily. Conscription may be a nasty pill for some to swallow. But what is in a name? Let us call it universal service, and let us ask our fellow countrymen at home to be prepared to emulate the example of those who are on service here and to be ready at all times and in all places to guard and defend the national flag--the symbol of British prestige and integrity. * * * * * POOR OLD CRONJE. Driven from pillar to post, Battered with shot and shell, Knowing full well his cause was lost, When the last of his burghers fell. Surrounded on every hand, He and his Army lay, Determined to make a final stand, Like a wounded stag at bay. When the British guns belched forth, The burghers held their breath, And down in the trenches deep they hid From these Messengers of Death. But the British had the range, And their lyddite and shrapnel fell Into their trenches till they thought We'd opened the gates of hell. Then Cronje had enough, And a message came to say That he and his army surrendered, And this on Majuba Day: The day that the Boers held And rejoiced with might and main, The day they laid their arms on the veldt; The day they'll ne'er hold again. For Cronje's day is done, The despot's rule is o'er, Their hell-fire on the Women And the Red-cross is no more. For under escort he jogs along With never a word to say; He and his army four thousand strong All bound for Table Bay. And Cronje can pray as long as he may, Till his poor old knees are sore; But it seems Lord Roberts has found the way To outwit the wily Boer, And St. Helena is his quarters Till the Transvaal War is o'er. JAS. L. WATSON, _1st Scots Guards._ * * * * * REMARKABLE COINCIDENCE. Below we give a translation of a Dutch proclamation issued by Sir George Cathcart nearly half a century ago. The Capetown _Argus_ says that it shows a marked similarity to Lord Roberts' recent proclamation explaining the cause of the present war, but this we confess we are not so certain of, as that the proclamation is of interest in and for itself. PROCLAMATION.