"'Carry on, then!'
"What is his religion—the dead man? No one knows. One of the soldiers has a Prayer-book on him, so we decide to read the Church of England service.
"Over the road, opposite the building, is a patch of ground—just a cabbage patch. A grave has been dug, just a few minutes previously, and the dead soldier lies in it uncovered, just as he fell in the trenches. His arms are folded on his breast. A piece of cloth hides his face from our sight. He lies two feet from the surface—no more. Three of us stand by the grave. The corporal hands me an electric torch, and I begin to read the burial service.
"'Ping-ping!' A bullet whizzes over us. Out goes the torch—and we finish with an extempore prayer. Five minutes later two of his mates are filling up this soldier's grave, and another is cutting out a rough wooden cross. Ten minutes more and we are away with our ambulance."
If they all acquit themselves thus we shall indeed be proud of Kitchener's Army.
The Christian work at the front becomes increasingly successful as the months go by, until one wonders whereunto it will grow. We must not exaggerate or make too much of momentary impressions of those at the front, but such scenes as the following, pictured to us by the Rev. Lauchlan McLean Watt in the Scotsman, will live in our memory. As we read it we can hardly wonder at his closing words declaring that it is Resurrection and Pentecost through which they are passing in France and Flanders to-day.
He had been in a deserted billet just behind the firing line, and was about to move on when a couple of soldiers of the Black Watch appeared on the scene. Here is the story he has to tell:
"They touched their bonnets, and said, 'We're going off to the front to-night, sir, and we thought we'd like to have the Sacrament before we go. Can you give it to us?' 'How many?' I asked. 'Oh, maybe sixteen,' was the reply. 'Well,' I answered, 'at six o'clock in the shed next to this one be present with your friends.'
"Off went the two with a deepened light in their faces, while I prepared the place that was to be for some of them the room of the Last Supper. A tablecloth borrowed from the officers' mess and a little wine from the same source helped to meet our preparations. A notice on the door that the place was closed for ordinary use until the Communion service was over did not keep us free from interruption, for the room was the ordinary one for the soldiers' 'sing-song,' and men would come and beat upon the doors and clamour for admission, not reading notices nor at first understanding.
"The men began to gather, and sat down there as reverently as though the dim, little, draughty hut were the chancel of some great cathedral holy with the deepest memories of Christian generations.