chief characteristics of those pastors. It struck me that their education
was not of a very high order--certainly not on a par with that of the
average regimental officer.

The _Feldpastor_ wears an armlet of white and light purple to denote his
calling; but indeed it is not easy to mistake him for anything else than
he is. He has his quarters with the Divisional General, and preaches
whenever and wherever it is convenient to get a congregation. A church is
passed on the wayside, a regiment halts and defiles into it, and the
pastor mounts the steps of the altar and holds forth therefrom for half an
hour. There is a quiet meadow near a village, in which a brigade is lying.
Looking over the hedge, you may see in the meadow a hollow square of
helmeted men with the general and the pastor in the centre, the latter
speaking simple, fervent words to the fighting men. When, as during the
siege of Paris, a division occupies a certain district for a long time,
you may chance--let me say on a New Year's night--on the village church
all ablaze with light. The garrison have decorated the gaunt old Norman
arches with laurels and evergreens; they have cleared out the
market-vendor's stock of tallow-dips to illuminate the church wherewithal.
The band has been practising the glorious _Nun Danket alle Gott_ for a
week; the vocalists of the regiments have been combining to perfect
themselves in part-singing. The gorgeous trumpery of Roman Catholic church
paraphernalia, unheeded as it is, looks strangely out of place and
contrasts curiously with the simple Protestant forms.

The church is crowded with a denser congregation than ever its walls
contained before. The _Oberst_ sits down with the under-officer; the
general gropes for half a chair between two stalwart _Kerle_ of the line.
Hymn-cards are distributed as at the Brighton volunteer service in the
Pavilion on Easter Sunday. As the pastor enters and takes his way up the