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
inspection 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