The Gordon Club opposite the Cathedral was to be reopened next day. The Wesleyan Church announced a parade service for the coming Sunday. The Presbyterian Church announced its meetings for the week. Services at the English Cathedral were also advertised. The Army Sports began on this date. Major Lorimer, of the Cape Police, came with a trooper and some despatch riders and was taken on the strength. C. V. F. Townshend, A.A.G. to the Military Governor, grappled with the negro problem in a warning notice that all natives must be indoors by eight o'clock p.m. unless possessed of a special permit, and that dancing and drunkenness in the streets would meet with severe punishment. We published a very informing and authoritative editorial upon martial law, which one of the editors was at some pains to secure. I have a strong idea that it was written either by General Pretyman or Major Poore, but I have no means for making certain. James Barnes, the distinguished American correspondent, who very kindly and with able results, took my place as correspondent of the _Daily Mail_ when I was invalided home, wrote for this number a comparison between this and some recent American wars. We led the paper with the full text of Mr. Kipling's poem, only one verse of which had reached us a week before. * * * * * THE FRIEND. (_Edited by the War Correspondents with Lord Roberts' Force._) BLOEMFONTEIN, MARCH 23, 1900. POEM BY RUDYARD KIPLING. (Owing to the exigencies of war, we were unable at the time to print more than one stanza of Mr. Kipling's poem, which we now present in its entirety.) Oh! Terence dear, and did ye hear The news that's going round? The Shamrock's Erin's badge by law Where'er her sons are found! From Bobsfontein to Ballyhack 'Tis ordered by the Queen-- We've won our right in open fight, The Wearin' of the Green! We sailed upon commando To vierneuk our Brother Boer-- A landlord and a Protestant, What could the bhoys want more? But Redmond cursed and Dillon wept, And swore 'twas shame and sin; So we went out and commandeered The Green they dared not win. 'Twas past the wit of man, they said, Our North and South to join-- Not all Tugela's blood could flood The black and bitter Boyne; But Bobs arranged a miracle (He does it now and then), For he'll be Duke of Orange, sure, So we'll be Orange men! Take hold! The Green's above the red, But deep in blood 'tis dyed, We plucked it under Mauser-fire Along the trenched hill-side: Talana's rush, the siege, the drift, The Fight of Fourteen Days, Bring back what's more than England's rose And dearer than her praise! God heal our women's breaking hearts In Ireland far away! An' Mary tell the news to those That fell before this day--