how God was flooding his soul with His love.

But the number of such as he in comparison with those who still pollute
the air with their oaths is small indeed, and we have sorrowfully to
admit that ours has been a swearing army upon the veldt.

Gambling, too, has been very rife, and if there was a penny to spin
Tommy would spin it. This, of course, is not by any means true of all
regiments, and as one of French's cavalry naïvely put it, 'You see, sir,
we had not even time to gamble!'

There are some brutes even among our British soldiers, and sad stories
reach us of men who have robbed the sick in hospital, and stripped the
dead upon the battlefield. But swearing and gambling apart, and these
horrible exceptions left out of the reckoning, what noble fellows our
soldiers have proved themselves!


=The Patience of our Soldiers.=

Their patience has been wonderful. We have all heard of the _patient_
ox, and away there on the veldt he has patiently toiled at his yoke
until he has laid down and died. But the patience of the private soldier
has exceeded the patience of the ox. He has undergone some of the
severest marches in history. He has endured privations such as we can
hardly imagine. He has lain wounded upon the veldt sometimes for three
or, at any rate in one case, for four days. He has in his wounded state
borne the terrible jolting of the ox-waggon day after day. If you talk
to him about it, he will not complain of any one, but will make light of
all his dreadful sufferings and merely remark that you cannot expect to