=Off to the Front.=

What stirring times those were!  What singing in the barrack rooms at night!  What excitement in the streets of the town, yes, and what drunkenness too, making it necessary now and then to confine a regiment to barracks the night before departure.  And then the march to the station, often in the small hours of the morning, the rush at the last with some would-be deserter just caught in time, the enthusiasm of the men, the cheering of the crowd, the singing of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and ’God Save the Queen.’  And then away goes the train, heads out of every carriage, handkerchiefs waving, lusty voices cheering, shouting, singing.  God bless you, our soldier lads!

But what mean these little knots of women and children gazing wistfully after the train?  What mean these sobs, these tears, this heart-break?  Ah! this is another side to the picture.  They have said good-bye, and they know that all of these lads will not return, and that some of those left behind are left desolate for life.  God help them, our British soldiers—­aye, and God help those they have left behind them!

[Illustration:  OFF TO SOUTH AFRICA.]

=Mr. Lowry Ordered South.=

Let us glance at just one scene more before we say good-bye to old Aldershot and follow our soldier lads on their journey South.  It is the farewell of one of the best-loved of Aldershot chaplains—­the Rev. E.P.  Lowry, senior Wesleyan chaplain.  For seven years he has ministered with rare success to our troops; his name is a household word among them, they love him as they love few, and he loves them one and all.  And now he too is ordered South.  He is fifty-six years old, and has done no campaigning heretofore.  It is, therefore, no light task he has before him, and though he has many advantages and is known to so many, yet he is quite aware he must rough it with the rest, and is prepared to undergo all hardships with his men.

It is a raw, biting morning, and the piercing wind makes the khaki uniforms that flit here and there look altogether unseasonable.  On the other side of the station is Rev. Father Ryan, the Roman Catholic chaplain, in khaki uniform and helmet, looking a soldier every inch of him,—­a good man, too, and a gentleman, as we Aldershot folks know well.  But on this platform what a crowd there is!  Men and women, old and young, soldiers and civilians, have all come to say good-bye to one man, and he moves in and out among the people saying a kindly word here and giving a handshake there.  There are not many for South Africa by this train.  The men left hours ago, and only a few officers who had no need to travel with their men are going down.  A young lad here, the son of a Christian man, is going out hoping to get an appointment in some South African volunteer regiment, and his comrades of the Fire Brigade are here to say ‘good-bye.’  But the rest of us are all crowding round our best-loved padre to say God-speed.