t a day too soon.
But a short time longer could the beleaguered men hold out. But he came
at last, and when next day he entered the town, bending low over his
saddle, worn out with his great exertions, the sight that met his gaze
was one never to be forgotten. These men whom he had known in the
greatness of their strength at Aldershot were little more than
skeletons, hardly able to show their appreciation of his splendid
efforts, so weak were they.

'You should have seen the general _cry_,' said a group of men from
Ladysmith at the Cambridge Hospital the other day. It was their way of
putting the case. The apparently stolid, dogged, undemonstrative
Englishman broke down completely, as he gazed upon the sights around
him. And no wonder! He had come not a moment too soon. But he had come
in time. 'Thank God,' said Sir George White, 'we have kept the flag
flying!'

=A Story of Devotion.=

One story of devotion more, and our tale of Ladysmith is at an end.
There was a certain much-loved chaplain shut up in Ladysmith, who
greatly enjoyed a smoke. In Buller's relief column there were men who
loved him well, and who knew his love for a pipe. When they left
Colenso, eleven of them each carried under his khaki tunic a
quarter-pound tin of tobacco for the chaplain. And then came all the
horrors of that terrible struggle to reach the beleaguered town,
culminating in the awful fight at Pieter's Hill. One after another,
vainly trying to keep their cherished possession, parted with it bit by
bit during those dreadful weeks; but one of them carried it all the
time, and never so much as touched it. When at last he reached
Ladysmith, he had to march right through to encamp several miles beyond
the town. But next day he got a permit and tramped back to Ladysmith,
found out his friend the chaplain, and handed over his treasure to him.
All black and grimy was that sacred tin of tobacco, black with the smoke
of battle, and dented by many a hard fight; but it was there--intact--an
offering of devotion, a holy thing, a pledge of love. That chaplain has
it still; he could not smoke it, it was far too precious for that. It
has become one of his household gods, to be kept for ever as a token of
a soldier's love.

And now we say good-bye to our gallant Ladysmith garrison. We shall meet
many of them again on other fields. The siege proved that there was not
a man of them without a religious corner somewhere. Hundreds of them
turned to God