ipS 



REVIEW OF REV/EV/S. 



April 1, 1913. 



silence we went and in silence they came. 

 . . Then a roar, a rolling roar, such 

 as at that time I had never heard ; the 

 thunder of the roar of the meetmg 

 shields, and a flash, a swift, simul- 

 taneous flash, the flash of the lightning 

 of the stabbing spears .... it 

 looked as though some huge breaker — 

 that breaker being the splendid Ama- 

 wombe — rolling in towards the shore 

 with the weight of the ocean behind it, 

 had suddenly struck a ridge of rock 

 and, rearing itself up, submerged and 

 hidden it. . . . Within three min- 

 utes that Usutu regiment was no more. 

 We had killed them every one, and 

 from all along our lines rose a flerce 

 hissing sound of ' S'gee, S'gee' uttered 

 as the spears went home in the bodies 

 of the conquered. 



" That regiment had gone, taking 

 nearly a third of our number with it, for 

 in such a battle as this the wounded 

 were as good as dead. Practically our 

 first line had vanished in a fray that did 

 not last more than a few minutes. Be- 

 fore it was well over the second Usutu 

 regiments sprang up and charged. With 

 a yell of victory we rushed down the 

 slope towards them. Again there was 

 the roar of the meeting shields, but this 

 time the fight was more prolonged. . . . 

 I remember the melee swinging back- 

 wards and forwards, the groans of the 

 wounded, the shouts of victory and 

 despair, and then Scowl's voice, saying : 

 ' We have beaten them, Baas ; but here 

 come the others.' 



" The third regiment was on our shat- 

 tered lines. We closed up ; we fought 

 like devils ; even the bearer boys rushed 

 into the fray. From all sides they 

 poured down upon us, for we had made 

 a ring ; every minute men died by hun- 

 dreds, and though their number grew 

 few, not one of the Amawombe yielded. 

 I was fighting with a spear now. . . . 

 Something hit me hard upon the head, 

 after which I remember nothing for 

 awhile. ... I came to myself again, 

 and found that I was still on the horse, 

 with Scowl clinging to my stirrup 

 leather and running by my side. . . . 

 " ' Where are the Amawombe ?' I asked. 

 " ' All dead by now, I think. Baas, as 

 we should be had not your horse bolted. 



Wow ! but they made a great fight — one 

 that will be told of. They have carried 

 those three regiments away upon their 

 spears.' " 



This account of the annihilation of 

 the royal regiment is practically word 

 for word that given to Sir Henry by Sir 

 Alelmoth Osborn, who was present at the 

 battle, although not as a combatant. 

 He had swum his horse across the 

 Tugela, and, hidden in a kopje, was as 

 it chanced, close to the scene of the 

 great fight of the day. 



Altogether a vigorous stor}', although 

 not quite in Sir Henry's best vein. 



THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE. 



The Distant Lamp. By Harold Begbie. 

 (Hodder and S'toughton, 3/6.) 



Seven hundred years ago mediaeval 

 Europe had fallen into its chronic state 

 of indifference towards religion. Some 

 of the spasmodic Crusades had started 

 and failed, and people had turned in- 

 stead to their own business, whenever 

 their overlords would let them. Sud- 

 denly a young shepherd, named 

 Stephen, living near Cloyes m Touraine, 

 had a vision when watching his sheep. 

 It seemed to him that God appeared to 

 him m the shape of a pilgrim and gave 

 him a letter which he was to take to 

 Jerusalem and then free the Holy Sepul- 

 chre. Moreover, his sheep prostrated 

 themselves before him and acknow- 

 ledged in him something divme. It was 

 an age of miracles and believers in 

 relics, and so when this thirteen-year- 

 old boy proclaimed aloud to his com- 

 panions that the Crusades had been a 

 failure because men who were often 

 wicked had attempted to free the Holy 

 Land by means of war, and that only 

 the pure and holy, represented by the 

 children, could accomplish its freedom, 

 small wonder is it that everywhere the 

 contagion spread and little children 

 came pouring out from town after town 

 at the cry of the shepherd boy. King 

 Philip, hearing of this, ordered that the 

 children should go home, and many 

 obeyed, but Pope Innocent apparently 

 took no heed. Students, women and 

 girls in many cases joined the children, 

 of whom we are told in the " Chronique 



