out the full term of their imprisonment, but now that all is excitement
and their regiments are on the eve of departure, they are feverishly
anxious to go with them.

And yet it is easy to preach, for in prison most hearts are softened,
and just now there are memories of bygone days that make one love the
old hymns and listen with more than old interest to old truths. Of
course there are not a few exceptions. For instance, you see that tall
Guardsman! Guardsman, do you call him? Anything but that in his uncouth
prison dress! But he _is_ a Guardsman, and by-and-by will give a good
account of himself in South Africa. See how his eyes are fixed on the
preacher. How eagerly he listens to every word the preacher says! Surely
there is a work of grace going on in his heart! And so next morning when
the preacher and junior chaplain meet, one says to the other, 'I am
quite sure Robinson was greatly affected yesterday. He could not take
his eyes off me all the time. He seemed in great trouble. Speak to him
about it, and try to lead him to Christ.'

Hence, when next the Rev. E. Weaver, our indefatigable junior chaplain,
visited the prison, he said, 'Robinson, what sort of a service did you
have on Sunday morning?'

'Pretty much as usual, thank you, sir.'

'How did you like the sermon?'

'Oh! all right. You know I've heard him before.'

'Yes, but wasn't there something that specially touched you. The
preacher said you could not take your eyes off him all the time. He felt