'While helping one wounded man, Mr. Huskisson heard his name called
out, and looking round, saw the face of one of the men who had been
converted in our Soldiers' Home at Wynberg, some years ago. Going
up to the lad he said:--

'"Are you wounded?"

'"Yes," said the man, "but praise God it is not in my head."

'A bullet had gone right through the back of his neck, and though
he was bleeding profusely he was humming a chorus to himself.

'Later on a Major came up and said to Mr. Huskisson--"Do you know
that lad?"

'On hearing that he did, the Major said, "He is the most chirpy man
that has been in the dressing-room to-day; he was brought in
singing a hymn."

'When Mr. Huskisson turned away from him, he left him still humming
one of our favourite choruses; and an unconverted man was heard to
say later on, "A chap coming in like that to the dressing-room does
more good than anything else, as he keeps the fellows' spirits up
so."

'There were, of course, many terribly sad sights--enough to make
our men feel as if war could hardly ever be justifiable. One poor
Highlander was lying dying, and on our men asking him if he knew
God, received no answer; but on repeating the question the dying
man said that he did once, but he had evidently grown cold in his