The concentration camps!  Fit subject for Dante, who in the Divina Comedia portrays as no other can the maddened heart of a father doomed to see his children waste away before his very eyes.  There are many relentless Ugolins among the Boers to-day.

I firmly believe that a steady process of infanticide was never intended to be the raison d’etre of these camps; no civilised nation could deliberately sanction a system cemented with the bones and blood of innocent babes.  And the British are a civilised nation.

No, the fault does not lie in the system itself, but in its application.  It is a humane idea carried out inhumanely, so inhumanely that when the Black Hole of Calcutta is forgotten Englishmen will still hang their heads for shame at the mention of concentration.

What the Levite concubine’s outraged flesh was to Israel the infant mortality is to the Afrikanders of the Cape and Natal, who, a hundred thousand strong, may at any moment lose their self-control and throw in their lot with their brethren.  Then Britain will tear the bandage from her eyes, but it will be too late.

Let me remind Canon Knox-Little, and those other divines who can complacently view the children’s Golgotha, of the words of their Master:  “But whoso shall offend one of these little ones, it were better that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were drowned in the depth of the sea.”

But to return.  After the usual reading of the Gospel, we retired for the night.  Our sleep, however, was none too secure.  At about two o’clock the dogs set up a terrible howling.  My heart beat loudly.  We were in for it now!  But no, it was only the farmer’s son, who came to tell us to get ready.

We rose at once.  Our host said a long good-bye to his wife and children, and we rode away in the misty night, a keen wind cutting through flesh and bone.

After a very long hour we reached the house of our guide’s brother.

We got in without awakening the inmates, and entered a small bedroom, where two young men were lying asleep.  They woke on hearing us move about, and struck a match.

“Good morning,” I said; “rather early, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” they replied, waiting for me to explain.  I kept quiet, however, and watched the expression on their faces gradually change from surprise to uneasiness, and from uneasiness to alarm.  Then I briefly explained the situation to the young men, after which we went to sleep in our chairs till daybreak, when the servant entered with the morning coffee.

Our guide took us into the parlour and introduced us to his sister-in-law.  He then left to rejoin his commando.