And let God remember how that opportunity came so convincingly--so impellingly--and if He would judge me and ask for my defence I would ask him who sent Burker here, and who placed him on that fatal spot? Does God sit only in judgment? Does God calmly watch His creatures walking blindfold to the Pit--struggling to tear away the bandage as they walk? Can He only judge, and can He never help? "_Pray_?" Is God a petty-minded "jealous" God to be propitiated like the gods of the heathen? Must we continually ask, or, not asking, not receive? And if we know not to ask aright and to demand the best and highest? Cannot the well-fed, well-read, well-paid Chaplain give advice? "_God knoweth best. Ask unceasingly. Pray always_." _Why_?--if. He knows best, is All Merciful, All Powerful? "_Praise_?" Is God a child, a savage, a woman? Shall I offer adulation that would sicken _me_. "_God is our Father which art in heaven_." Would I have my son praise me to my face continually--or at all. Would I compel him to pester me with demands for what he desired,--good, bad and indifferent? And would I give him what he asked regardless of what was best for him--or say, "If you ask not, you receive not?" Give me a God finer and greater and juster and nobler than myself--something higher than the Chaplain's jealous, capricious, inconsequent and illogical God. Anthropomorphism! Is there a God at all? I shall soon know. If so-- Oh Thou, who man of baser earth didst make And ev'n with Paradise devised the Snake, For all the Sin the face of wretched man Is black with--Man's forgiveness give--and take! At dawn I said aloud:-- "This Chapter is closed. The story of Burker and Dolores is written. I may now strive to forget." I was wrong. Major Jackson of the R.A.M.C. came to see me soon after daylight. He gave me an opiate and I slept all that day and night. I went on parade next morning, fresh, calm, and cool--and saw _Burker riding toward the group of gentlemen who were awaiting the signal to "fall in"_. I say I was fresh, calm, and cool. I was. And there was Burker--looking exactly as in life, save for a slight nebulosity, a very faint vagueness of outline, and a hint of transparency. I had been instructed by the Adjutant to assume the post of Instructor (as the end of the Mounted Infantry drill season was near)--and I blew the "rally" on my whistle as many of the gentlemen were riding about, and shouted the command: "Fall in". Twenty living men and one dead faced me, twenty dismounted and one mounted. I called the corporal in charge of the armoury. "How many on parade?" I asked. He looked puzzled, counted, and said:-- "Why--twenty, ain't there?" I numbered the troop. Twenty--and Burker. "Tell off by sections." Five sections--and Burker. "Sections right." A column of five sections--and Burker, in the rear. I called out the section-leader of Number One section.