By-and-by they moved up to the Orange River, 570 miles beyond Capetown.  Here they found that the station-master was a nominal Wesleyan, and he most kindly gave them the use of his house for religious services.  Still, they were without chaplains, and what, perhaps, was, in their opinion, quite as bad, without hymn-books!  Sergeant Oates found the name of the Rev. E. Nuttall, of Capetown, on a piece of dirty old paper in the camp.  He did not know anything about him, or even whether he was still in Capetown, but he felt moved to write to him for those precious hymn-books.  So he read his letter to the lads, and they ’put a prayer under the seal’ and sent it off.  The station-master at Belmont, who was going ‘down,’ promised to do what he could for these singing soldiers, who were without their books, and so even in worse state than preachers without their sermons; and, strange to say, letter, station-master, and Rev. E.P.  Lowry appeared at the Rev. E. Nuttall’s house almost at the same time!  With Mr. Lowry came Mr. A. Pearce, Army Scripture Reader, from North Camp, Aldershot.  He remained at Orange River while Mr. Lowry moved on with the Guards, to which Brigade he was attached.

By this time the troops were ready for the advance, and the chaplains were with their men.  Rev. Mr. Faulkner was the senior Church of England chaplain.  The Rev. James Robertson and the Rev. W.S.  Jaffrey represented the Presbyterians, and the Rev. E.P.  Lowry was the senior Wesleyan chaplain.

=The Battle of Belmont.=

And then came the battle of Belmont!  From Orange River the troops had been compelled to march, and had their first taste of the African sun in the greatness of his strength.  The legs of the kilted men were blistered as though boiling water had been poured over them, and all but the old campaigners in every regiment suffered acutely.  Belmont was reached after dark; the troops were without over-coats or blankets, and the night was bitingly cold.  But they lay down anywhere, glad enough to stretch themselves upon the ground or seek the friendly shelter of a ditch.  Here they lay unmurmuringly—­members of the proudest aristocracy in the world, noblemen of ancient lineage, quite ready to sleep in a ditch or die, for that matter, for their country.

Before two o’clock in the morning, they were aroused, and marched out to attack the stronghold of the Boers.  And nobly they performed their task.  But let a Christian soldier—­our old friend Sergeant Oates—­describe the battle.

=A Sergeant’s Account of the Battle.=

’On the 23rd November (Martinmas Day), we marched out early in the morning, and at daybreak found ourselves facing the Boers in a formidable position.  All was so still during our march to this place.  While marching along, a young goat had got parted from its mother and commenced bleating mournfully in front of us, and although I am not superstitious, it made me feel quite uncomfortable, as it did many more.  What became of it eventually I cannot say, but I think the poor little thing got roughly handled, if not killed.