eless
of danger, contemptuous of death, fulfilling all the Soldier's
requirements in the way of manhood, he knew quite well that some Divine
inward fire upheld this once despised follower of Christ. Then lo! the
transformation. First, the oaths grew rarer in the ranks and vanished;
then came the discovery that, after all, it really was possible to
conduct a conversation in the same language as the soldier used at home
with his wife and children; that, after all, the picturesque adjectives
that flavoured the speech of camps were not necessary; that there was
really no need for two kinds of speech, the language of the camp and the
language of the drawing-room.

And the process of redemption was very curious. All are familiar of
course with the hymn tunes that are sung by marching soldiers, tunes
that move their female relatives and amiable elderly gentlemen to a
quick admiration for the Christian soldier. All know too that, could the
admiring throng only hear the words to which these hymn tunes were sung,
the crowd would fly with fingers to their ears, from such apparent
blasphemy. Well, these well-known ballads were first sung at the padre,
and especially at the padre who was masquerading as a soldier. And when
the soldier saw that the padre could see the jest and laugh at it too,
and know that it meant nothing, then he felt that he had got a good
fellow for his sky pilot. Can you wonder that the soldier spoke of his
padre comrade in such generous terms and that the whole tone of the
regiment improved? The men were better soldiers and better Christians
too.

There is one trap into which a padre falls when marching with a
regiment. Provided, by regulations, with a horse, he is often unwise
enough to ride alongside his marching cure of souls. It would, perhaps,
do him good if he could hear, as I did, the comments of two Scottish
sergeants in the rear. "Our Lord did not consider it beneath him to ride
upon a donkey, but this man of God needs must have a horse."

"How is it that I don't get close to the good fellows on board the
ship?" said a very good and earnest padre to me. "Why don't these
fellow-officers of mine come to church? How is it that fellows I know to
be good and generous and kindly are yet to be found at the bar, in the
smoking-room, when my service is on? Why is it that the decent, nice
fellows aren't professing Christians, and some of the fellows who are my
most regular attendants haven't a tenth of the c