ng he suggested to his mother that they go to Doctor
Thurlow's church together. She would have very much preferred going to
her own church with him, but she knew that he did not care for the
minister and had never been very friendly with the people, so she put
aside her secret wish and went with him. To tell the truth she was very
proud to go anywhere with her handsome soldier son, and one thing that
made her the more willing was that she remembered that the Macdonalds
always went to the Presbyterian church, and perhaps they would be there
to-day and Ruth would see them. But she said not a word of this to her
boy.

John spent most of the time with his mother. He went up to college for an
hour or so Saturday evening, dropping in on his fraternity for a few
minutes and realizing what true friends he had among the fellows who were
left, though most of them were gone. He walked about the familiar rooms,
looking at the new pictures, photographs of his friends in uniform. This
one was a lieutenant in Officers' Training Camp. That one had gone with
the Ambulance Corps. Tom was with the Engineers, and Jimmie and Sam had
joined the Tank Service. Two of the fellows were in France in the front
ranks, another had enlisted in the Marines, it seemed that hardly any
were left, and of those three had been turned down for some slight
physical defect, and were working in munition factories and the
ship-yard. Everything was changed. The old playmates had become men with
earnest purposes. He did not stay long. There was a restlessness about it
all that pulled the strings of his heart, and made him realize how
different everything was.

Sunday morning as he walked to church with his mother he wondered why he
had never gone more with her when he was at home. It seemed a pleasant
thing to do.

The service was beautifully solemn, and Doctor Thurlow had many gracious
words to say of the boys in the army, and spent much time reading letters
from those at the front who belonged to the church and Sunday school, and
spoke of the "supreme sacrifice" in the light of a saving grace; but the
sermon was a gentle ponderous thing that got nowhere, spiced toward its
close with thrilling scenes from battle news. John Cameron as he listened
did not feel that he had found God. He did not feel a bit enlightened by
it. He laid it to his own ignorance and stupidity, though, and determined
not to give up the search. The prayer at the close of the sermon somehow