when the Prince of Peace shall reign.

=The Struggle for Spion Kop.=

Potgieter's Drift, Spion Kop, Pieter's Hill--these are names that will
live in the memory of every British soldier with Sir Redvers Buller. Of
all fights Spion Kop was perhaps the most terrible, as it was the most
disastrous. It was called Spion Kop, or Spying Mountain, because it was
from this eminence the old Boer trekkers spied out the land in the days
gone by. It was more than a hill--it was a mountain, and a mountain with
a most precipitous ascent. To climb it meant hauling oneself up from one
rock to another. It was a task that required all a strong man's
strength. Yet up it went our men without a moment's hesitation. It was
almost like climbing a house side. But one man helped another, the
stronger pulling up the weaker, until they halted for a moment
breathless at the top. 'Charge!' and away they went. The bayonets were
covered with blood after that awful charge, and then, their work for the
moment accomplished, they lay down, for the bullets were whistling
around them. In the dense darkness they began to build sangars as best
they could. All night long they worked, and never for a moment were
they allowed to work in peace. When morning broke they saw that their
entrenchments were far too small, and though they held out all day,
their position was commanded by the Boers on higher ground, and so
became untenable. Shells burst behind every rock. Bullets like hail
rained upon them, and although they fought as all true Britishers can,
they were at last withdrawn--withdrawn, perhaps, when victory was almost
within their grasp.

It is not our purpose to describe the fight; that we leave to others.
What we have said serves but as a reminder. The question that concerns
us is, How did our men hold themselves through that awful day?

=Touching Incidents at Spion Kop.=

We read of one, a Wesleyan local preacher,--Mr. W.F. Low,--wounded by a
bullet through his collar bone and shoulder blade; wounded again by a
fragment of shell striking his leg, worn out by excitement and
fatigue--so worn out that he actually slept, notwithstanding the pain of
his wound, until awoke by sharp pain of his second wound. We read of
this man crawling over to the wounded lying near him, passing water from
his water-bottle to one and another, gathering the water-bottles of the
dead men round about, and giving them to those yet living. And yet the
cry of 'Water,' 'Water!