The surge of true manhood carried you on To the thick of the fight in the fire-swept zone, Through the fume of the gas shell's deadly breath, Through blood and mire, on to glory or death. To you, still part of Britannia's shield, Back with victory crowned from the dark stricken field, Along with the broken, the maimed, and the dead, We owe an account that can never be paid. Shades of the dead! Now with war drums still We hear in the wind of the moor and the hill Your voices, that tell in triumphant song, All is well with you there, in your Father's home. THE LOWTHER WIND'S WAIL: A memorial of Death by Exhaustion on the Lowther Hills. _By the_ _AUTHOR of "GOD'S TREASURE HOUSE IN SCOTLAND."_ _Janet Miller left her service at Kirkhope on Wednesday the 3rd January, 1877, instead of Friday the 12th, as previously arranged, on a visit home, to be present at the marriage of her sister. The day was so stormy, and the roads so full of snow wreaths, that the carter, with whom she should have gone, could proceed no further than Leadhills that night._ _It is considered to be ten miles between Kirkhope and Leadhills--a dreary, steep, and rough mountain, without any very distinct path, and that which is traversed was obliterated by the snow. Still, she had passed the Lowther heights (upwards of 2300 feet) in safety, descended and crossed the Shortcleuch water, and the fence, ascending the rough side of the only ridge which separates this valley from the village, and without deviating from the track, exhaustion and death overtook her within twenty minutes' or half an hour s walk of home._ _A shepherd's Wife, returning from a funeral on the following Tuesday afternoon, discovered her body. Little thought she that the very day fixed for her home-coming would be her funeral day. Obtaining leave sooner than expected, unfortunately, instead of coming by the road with company as advised, she resolved to take the hill. Though urged to go early, she delayed; though warned of the coming storm and night by more than one friendly voice, still onwards and upwards she pressed. She knew the hills and the paths: she was young and strong, and how much would her happiness be enhanced by gaining home that night; and then, the morrow and the month, how full of joy! So bravely on she struggled, battling with the blinding drift, till her strength was gone--quite gone. Then gently she laid her down to sleep. It was her last on earth; and the cold snow-drift gathered quickly over and formed her winding-sheet, hiding her body from human eye for well-nigh a week. Her bonnet and parcels were found in the bottom of a fallen-in shaft, up to the edge of which she had climbed. With shawl drawn over her head, cloak tucked in about her, and her cheek laid upon her hand, there she sought a rest which proved to be her last on earth._