Magersfontein Avenged.

Manawatu Herald, 28 July 1900, Page 2

Magersfontein Avenged.

I In his last letter in the Daily News Mr " Smiler " Hales, writing from Thabanchu on May 7th; describes in one ot his picturesque "purple passages " how the Gordons avenged the slaughter of the Highlanders at Magersfontein and how in their hour of bloody triumph lion-hearted Captain Torose was bereft of sight. The captain, with 50 men, was surrounded by a party of Boers five times their strength, but bayonetted the enemy into precipitate flight. Thfe is Mr Hales' pen picture : — •* Throw up your hands and surrender." The language was English, but the accent was Dntch. A moment —an awful second of time — the rifle barrels gleamed coldly towards that little group of men who stood their ground as pine trees stand on their mountains sides' in Bonny Scotland. Then out of the African air there tang a voice, proud, clear, and high as clarion notes : " Fix bayonets, Gordons ! " Like lightning the strong hands gripped the ready steel ; the bayonets went home to the barrel as the lips of lover to lover. Rifles spoke from the Boer lines, and men reeled a pace from the British and fell and lay where they fell. Again the voice with the Scottish burr on every note ; Charge, Gordons J Charge ! " and the dauntless Scotchman rushed on at the head of his fiery few. The Boer's heart is a brave heart, and he who calls them cowards lies ; but never before had they faced so grim a charge ; never before had they seen a torrent of steel advancing on their lines in front of a tornado of flesh and blood. On rushed the Scots, on over fallen comrades, on over rocks and clefts, on to the ranks of foe, and onward through them, sweeping them down as I bad seen wild horses sweep through a field of ripening corn. The bayonets hissed as they crashed through breastbone and backbone. Vainly the Boer clubbed his rifle and smote back. As well might the wild goat strike with puny hoofs when the tiger springs. Nothing could stay the fury of that desperate rush. Do you sneer at the Boev? Then sneer at half the armies of Europe, for never yet have Scotland's

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sons been driven back when once they reached a foe to smite. . . . They thought of the dreary morning hours of Magersfontein, and they smote the steel downwards through the neck into the liver."* They thought of the row of comrades in the graves beside the ModJer, and they gave the Boers the " haymaker's lift," and tossed the dead body behind them. They thought of gallant Wauchop, riddled with lead, and they sent the cold steel with a horrid crash through skull and brain leaving the face a thing to make fiends shudder. They thought of Scotland, and they sent the wild slogan of their clan re-echoing through the gullies of the African hills until their comrades far away along the line hearing it turned to one another, saying, •♦ God help the Boers this hour. Our Jocks are into 'em with the bay'nit." But when they turned to gather up those who had fallen, then they found that he whose lion soul had pointed them the crimson path to duty was to lead then no more. The noble heart that beat so true to honor's highest notes was not stilled, but a bullet, missing the brain, had closed his eyes for ever to God's sunlight, leaving him to go through life in darkness. And they mourned for him as they mourned for noble, white souled Wauchope, whose prototype he was. They knew that many a long, long year would roll away before their eyes would rest upon his like again in camp or bloody field. But it gladdened their stern warrior hearts to know that the last sight he ever gazed upon was Scotland sweeping on her foes."