Everywhere God was with His workers, and gave great success.  The spirit of inquiry was present in all the meetings.  Everywhere in this region, as indeed throughout the whole theatre of war, in camp and hospital, on the march and on the battlefield, our soldier lads were inquiring, ’What must I do to be saved?’ and not far off was some one ready to reply, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’

=An Ostrich Story.=

As a variation from our long record of work in camp and hospital, we close this chapter with an ostrich story, and venture to take it intact from News from the Front for April, 1900.

     ’In conjunction with the Rev. M.F.  Crewdson, Mr. Ingram, of the
     S.C.A., went to Arundel to take charge of a tent which was to be
     erected there.  The tent not having arrived he says:—­

’"We went across the country some seven or eight miles, a terrible tramp, to visit some graves.  It was a lonely, hot, and trying walk, and as we were half way back, about 1 p.m., having been walking since 6.15 a.m., and having had no meal, we saw an ostrich making for us about a mile away.  It was up to us in three minutes (a male bird), and had evidently seen us from its nest, where it was sitting, and thought we were going to interfere with it.  It was an enormous bird, and was in a rage.  It stopped some dozen paces from us, and whirled round, flapping its wings and looking truly awful.  I gave Crewdson my pocket-knife, the only weapon we had, and as the wretched thing went circling round us, getting nearer and nearer, I suggested to Crewdson that if we came to close quarters, its neck would be our only chance (its body was higher than my head).  He did not think it would come to close quarters, but seemed in a great state about our safety, and said, ‘Keep together, old man.’  ’All right,’ I said; but the next moment Crewdson had turned to try and walk on.  I felt to separate, or take our eyes off it, meant an attack, so walked backwards; but it no sooner saw that I was a pace or two nearer it than Crewdson than it came on me like a very whirlwind.  I had been reading Psalm xci. in the rain that morning, and how grandly it was fulfilled!  By a God-given instinct I dropped my haversack and your fieldglasses, and did not wait for it to reach me, in which case it would have pecked out my eyes and struck me with its claws, probably tearing my chest open, but sprang to meet it.  Death seemed absolutely certain, and though my nerve was set, and, as it were, I mentally gave up my life, I met the bird with a thud.  With both hands I caught its neck before it could lift a foot to strike; we both rolled over, and, with strength given me at the moment, I clung to its neck until I came up, ‘top dog.’  But then with full fury it began to kick, and had I received a full blow I should have probably died, but I hugged too closely to it, and then wriggled on to its back, so that it kicked into the