oking at Barry and when
he had finished his eyes were shining with tears.

"Ay, sir, he was a man, sir," he said at length.

"Yes, you have said it, Monroe. He was a man, just a common man, but
uncommonly like God, for He did the same thing. He gave Himself for us."

Monroe turned away to his work in silence.

"Monroe," said Barry, calling him back, "look here, lad, it would not
be right for us to grieve too much for Corporal Thom. We ought to be
thankful for him and proud of him, should we not?"

"Yes, sir, I know, sir, but," he added while his lip trembled, "you hate
to lose your chum."

Only under compulsion of his conscience did Barry go to the cinema show
that night, which in this camp was run under the chaplain service and by
a chaplain. He knew what the thing would be like. His whole soul shrunk
from the silly, melodramatic films which he knew would constitute the
programme as from a nauseating dose of medicine. The billboard announced
a double header, a trite and, especially to Canadians, a ridiculous
representation of the experiences of John Bull and his wife and pretty
daughter as immigrants to the Canadian Northwest, which was to be
followed by the immortal Charlie Chaplin.

The cinema hut was jammed--the whole battalion, now much reduced in
numbers, officers and men being present, and with them the men of the
base units and transports of other battalions. It was in some senses an
unusual gathering. There was an entire absence of the wonted chaff and
uproarious horseplay; instead a grave and almost bored air rested upon
the men's faces. The appalling experiences of the past thirteen days
seemed to dwarf all other things in comparison. They had been in the
presence of the Big Thing; all else seemed petty; they had been looking
into death's cold eyes; after that other sights seemed trivial. Many of
them carried sore hearts for their comrades with whom they had at other
times foregathered in just such circumstances as these, but nevermore
again.

It was the custom in the battalion, as the officers came into such
gatherings as this, to receive them with a ripple of applause, but
to-night there was silence. Barry arrived late. When he appeared there
fell upon the men a hush, and then as he moved toward the front seats
reserved for the officers, the men began to rise until the whole
battalion was standing silent and motionless, and so remained until he
had found a seat. It was Major Bayne who called his at