. He looked across to where, in the darkness, he thought he
could distinguish 'little Jemmie.' With difficulty he crawled across to
him, and bending over the wounded lad, he roused him.

'Jemmie, lad,' he said, 'I have watched you in the barrack room and seen
you pray. Jemmie, lad, do you think you could say a prayer for me?'

And Jemmie roused himself with an effort, and, trying hard to get upon
his knees, he began to pray. By-and-by the other wounded soldiers heard
him, and all who could crawl gathered round, and there, in that far-away
nullah, little Jemmie 'said a prayer' for them all. Surely a strange and
almost ghastly prayer-meeting that! As they prayed, some one noticed the
flicker of a light in the distance. They knew not who it was--Briton or
Boer--who moved in the distant darkness. Jemmie, however, heeded it not,
but prayed earnestly for deliverance. The light came nearer, and the
wounded lads began to call with all their remaining strength for help.
And at last it came to them--the light of a British stretcher party--and
they were carried to help and deliverance.

'And now,' said the Roman Catholic soldier, who, on his return from the
war, told this story to the Rev. T.J. McClelland, 'I know that God will
hear the prayer of a good man as well as the prayer of a priest, for he
heard little Jemmie's prayer that night.'

And so the Aldershot barrack room prepares the way for the South African
veldt, and the example apparently unnoticed bears fruit where least
expected.

=The Hymns the Soldier Likes.=

Of all hymn-books Mr. Thomas Atkins likes his 'Sankey' best. He is but a
big boy after all, and the hymns of boyhood are his favourites still.
You should hear him sing,--

'I'm the child of a King,'

while the dear lad has hardly a copper to call his own! And how he never
tires of singing!

But the Scotchmen are exceptions, of course, and when, following
mobilisation times, the Cameronian Militia came to Aldershot, they could
not put up with Mr. Sankey's collection. Rough, bearded crofters as many
of them were,--men who had never been South before,--all these hymns
sounded very foreign. 'We canna do wi' them ava,' they cried; 'gie us
the Psalms o' Dauvit.' But they set an example to many of their fellows,
and the remarkable spectacle was witnessed in more than one barrack
room of these stalwart crofters engaged in family prayer.

But it is time we saw our soldiers depart. And first there is the
i