ROBERTS, Field Marshal, Commanding-in-Chief British Forces in South Africa. * * * * * SOLDIERS OF THE QUEEN. BY FRED EYRE, YORKSHIRE GREEN HOWARDS. Far in a land so distant, Out on the battle-field, Raising the lance or carbine, Or a sharp-edged sword they wield. There lie the British Soldiers, Fighting for home and Queen, Marching by day, and by night as well, Hard times are often seen. Weary they tramp for their Country, Marching when only half fed; He'll rest where he can when they're halted, Without sheet or blanket or bed. Dreams of sweet home and of childhood Will pass through his weary brain, Restless he'll lie till morning, Then he'll move on the march again. But what of his wife and baby, That he's left far behind at home? Where is their love's protection? Where is his heart to roam? Urged on by a stern Commander, Pushed by a Sergeant there, Bullied by bits of Lance Corporals, No wonder the poor soldiers swear. Now then he's fighting like blazes, The artillery guns loudly boom, His rifle comes up to his shoulder, And another brave Boer meets his doom. Crack! crack! 'tis the brave soldier's music, His spirits rise up--he can feel, It's this music that raises his spirits, And makes them as fearless as steel. He is fighting for Queen and for country, For his dear little baby and wife, He knows that the foe must be beaten And for this end he'll risk his dear life. At last the day's fighting is over, The wounded and dead lie around, All now is quiet and peaceful, From the guns we can hear not a sound. But his poor wounded comrades lie moaning, And gasping for life's loving breath, But the great God of Love calls their spirits, And they're clasped in the cold arms of death. All things seem so strange and so dreary, As sadly he gazes around, He heaves a deep sigh and a tear dims his eye, As he lies on the cold sodden ground. * * * * * NEVO! But still we are here, what is left of us, Noble and brave to be seen, We've proved ourselves brave British soldiers, _And willing to die for our Queen_. * * * * * JOKES TO BURN. _To the Editors of_ THE FRIEND.--SIRS,--Is it true that a certain cavalry general, on finding good grass for his horses for the first time at Koodoesrand, exclaimed, "By Jove, this will supply a long-veldt want"? That, to remind the burghers of the disgrace of Bloemfontein's fall into British hands, President Kruger has changed the name of the Transvaal capital to "Oomfontein"? That the landdrost has caused to be written on the gates of Kroonstad, "Nil sine Laboere"? That the Welshman called Mr. Kruger's son "ap-Paul" and the son's father "appalling"?