nspection in the barrack square, and it is difficult to recognise in
these khaki-clad warriors the men we had known in the barrack room or
'Home.' And then there is the farewell in the evening, and the
'glory-room' or other devotional room is full of those ordered South,
and there is the hearty hand-shake and the whispered 'God bless you,'
and then all join in the soldiers' good-night song--his watchword all
the world over, hymn 494 in Sankey's collection,--

'God be with you till we meet again.'

His life is such a coming and going that he would be unhappy unless you
closed every evening meeting with at least one verse, and on these
occasions, when no one knows whether it will be in earth or heaven that
he will meet his comrade next, it is, of course, impossible to close
without it. And so night by night before each regiment takes its
departure some one starts 494. By-and-by, as the train steams out of the
station, it will be 'Auld Lang Syne,' but these are Christian men, and
they are parting from Christian men, and so often with hands clasped and
not without tears they sing,--

'God be with you till we meet again,
Keep love's banner floating o'er you,
Smite death's threatening wave before you,
God be with you till we meet again.'

They will not forget it, these soldier lads, and as they pass one
another on their long marches across the veldt, unable to do more than
shout a greeting to some old friend, it will be 494; and as with rapid
tread they advance to charge some almost impregnable defence, they will
shout to one another--these Christian soldiers--494, 'God be with you
till we meet again!'

=Off to the Front.=

What stirring times those were! What singing in the barrack rooms at
night! What excitement in the streets of the town, yes, and what
drunkenness too, making it necessary now and then to confine a regiment
to barracks the night before departure. And then the march to the
station, often in the small hours of the morning, the rush at the last
with some would-be deserter just caught in time, the enthusiasm of the
men, the cheering of the crowd, the singing of 'Auld Lang Syne' and 'God
Save the Queen.' And then away goes the train, heads out of every
carriage, handkerchiefs waving, lusty voices cheering, shouting,
singing. God bless you, our soldier lads!

But what mean these little knots of women and children gazing wistfully
after the train? What mean these sobs, these tears, t