The Comrade in White | Page 6

said, and the frost and the bitterness and the anger against God were all gone out of my heart and voice.
"Well, I don't quite know. That's the queer thing about it. I don't deny I was a bit savage at first at what had happened. And I often wished I were dead, for I saw my old self wasn't much good for this new life I was up against. Then one Sunday the padre, who was a very decent sort, gave us a straight talk that opened my eyes a bit. He was speaking about Paul and the difference Christ made in his life. Paul was a splendid fellow, and as good as good could be, and just like many a man to-day who seems all right without Christ. But what a difference Christ made in him for all that! And how He made the old Saul of Tarsus seem a poor thing in comparison with Paul the apostle! There was something, too, about Paul's thorn in the flesh, but I forget that bit. Anyhow I did some furious thinking that Sunday in Cairo, though I saw nothing clearly, and didn't lay much store by my own future.
"That night the strange thing happened. I woke up in the early hours when no one was astir, and I saw a man come in by the door and walk down the ward. He gave a sort of understanding, tender look at every face as he passed, and when he saw that I was awake he came close beside me and held my hand for a moment. Then he said, 'Will you let me help you with this burden of yours?' I thought at first it was the new doctor we were expecting. Then I knew quite suddenly that it was The Comrade in White, and that He wanted me very much to say 'Yes.' And as I said it I felt the first real happiness that I had known since I was wounded. And then He smiled and went away.
"I told myself next day that it was a dream, and perhaps it was, but that strange, odd happiness has never left me since. I wouldn't be back again in the old way, not for all the world could give me, not even to have my leg restored."
"And is He really helping you with your burden?" I whispered.
"Why, Mary child, can't you see," he exclaimed, with his merry laugh; "can't you see that He has carried my burden quite away? I was but half a man before. He has made me whole."

IV
THE PRAYER CIRCLE
" ... More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God."
--The Passing of Arthur, ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.
"Fight the good fight with all thy might, Christ is thy strength, and Christ thy right, Lay hold on life, and it shall be Thy joy and crown eternally."
* * * * *
"Faint not, nor fear, His arms are near, He changeth not, and thou art dear: Only believe, and thou shalt see That Christ is all in all to thee."
--J.S.B. MONSELL.

IV
THE PRAYER CIRCLE
Lieutenant Roger Fenton had a lump in his throat when he said good-bye to his boys. There they were in a bunch on the station platform, the ten wayward lads into whom he had sought to instil the fear of God on Tuesday evenings in winter, and with whom he had rambled and played cricket every Saturday afternoon in summer. Boys of fourteen to seventeen are a tough proposition, and though Fenton would answer for their bowling and batting he wasn't over sanguine about their religion. But they had filled a big place in his lonely life in the dull little country town, and now he had to leave them and lose them. For the great call had reached him, and he bore the King's commission, and in his heart of hearts he had the feeling that he would never come back.
Now the chaff and the parting words of good luck were over, and the train was panting to be off. "Boys," he cried suddenly, "I want you to do something for me, something hard." "Anything you like, sir," they answered eagerly. But their faces fell when they heard their teacher's word. "Look here," he said, "it's this. You'll meet in the old place every Tuesday evening for a few minutes and pray for me that I may do my duty, and, if