Ellison Ephemera part 5, (penultimate post on the subject.) Among the items recovered from a display box was a train schedule set to be used by the personnel of the ZASM for the line between Volksrust and Glencoe. It is unusual in that it is for March 1900 and that it concerns a ZAR-controlled railway line in Natal. By definition only few of these schedules were produced and this is undoubtedly a rare survivor.
With the schedule came a picture of a stoker (?) and a first-class train ticket, possibly used by Ellison, for a journey from Durban to Standerton. At the back it lists the date of the journey (September 14, 1900) and (for the members who collect these things) carries a stamp consisting of a D within a circle.
The box also contained what probably was the first design for the Chevril Resurgam “Iron Horse” label. Chevril Resurgam was a nutritional extract produced from horsemeat, used to make soup. Ellison states that he received the design on the day of the relief of Ladysmith from Colonel Ward, Senior Supply Officer in Ladysmith during the siege. For comparison I include a final version of the design as found on the internet.
To explain how this dreadful concoction came into being, please find following an extract from the Gutenberg Ladysmith project.
“We were shot at rather briskly all day by the enemy's guns. The groups of wandering horses were a tempting aim. The poor creatures still try to get back to their lines, and some of them stand there motionless all day, rather than seek grass upon the hills. The cavalry have made barbed-wire pens, and collect most of them at night. But many are lost, some stolen, and more die of starvation and neglect. An increasing number are killed for rations, and to-day twenty-eight were specially shot for the chevril factory. I visited the place this afternoon. The long engine-shed at the station has been turned to use. Only one engine remains inside, and that is used as a "bomb-proof," under which all hands run when the shelling is heavy. Into other engine-pits cauldrons have been sunk, constructed of iron trolleys without their wheels, and plastered round with clay. A wood fire is laid along under the cauldrons, on the same principle as in a camp kitchen. The horseflesh is brought up to the station in huge red halves of beast, run into the shed on trucks, cut up by the Kaffirs, who also pound the bones, thrown into the boiling cauldron, and so—"Farewell, my Arab steed!"
There is not enough hydrochloric or pepsine left in the town to make a true extract of horse, but by boiling and evaporation the strength is raised till every pint issued will make three pints of soup. A punkah is to be fitted to make the evaporation more rapid, and perhaps my horse will ultimately appear as a jelly or a lozenge. But at present the stuff is nothing but a strong kind of soup, and at the first issue to-day the men had to carry it in the ordinary camp-kettles.
Every man in the garrison to-night receives a pint of horse essence hot. I tasted it in the cauldron, straight from the horse, and found it so sustaining that I haven't eaten anything since. The dainty Kaffirs and Colonial Volunteers refuse to eat horse in any form. But the sensible British soldier takes to it like a vulture, and begs for the lumps of stewed flesh from which the soup has been made. With the joke, "Mind that stuff; it kicks!" he carries it away, and gets a chance, as he says, of filling—well, we know what he says. The extract has a registered label.
Under the signature of Aduncus Bea and Co. acute signallers will recognise the official title of Colonel Ward.”