His comrades protested and said they would all die together. But there was no time to argue. In a moment he was out of the house and down the street. Shots rang out and the "bad lad" of the regiment fell, pierced by many bullets. It was as he said. The Germans passed the house, and for a moment the rest of that little company were saved. But the British had received reinforcements. They advanced to the attack again and the village was cleared of Germans. Then the little company came out of their hiding-place, reverently lifted the body of the dead hero who had died for them, and carried it to the rear. They dug a grave and buried him. Over the grave they placed a rough wooden cross, and wrote upon it--"He saved others, himself he _would_ not save." They hoped, they said, they were not guilty of blasphemy in altering and using the historic words, and we, as we quote them, are quite certain they were not. The battle of the Aisne was long drawn out, if that can be described as a battle which consisted of many days of fierce fighting culminating in long continued siege warfare in the trenches. During its continuance there was the same individual ministry, the constant hair-breadth escapes of chaplains and doctors--not always, however, for both chaplains and doctors suffered--the same heroic endeavour to ameliorate suffering and to point the dying to the Saviour. Here and there we get glimpses of brief services held behind the firing line. A brigade at a time would be withdrawn from the trenches and then was the chaplain's opportunity. We read of a Sunday spent among these men who had just been facing death. An early communion, the men kneeling on the straw of a dimly lit barn, a service in the open-air among men of line regiments and of batteries, a united service in the evening at which the Rev. D.P. Winnifrith read the prayers, Colonel Crawford the lessons, and the Rev. O.S. Watkins gave the address. We are told of hurriedly arranged services in the evenings--one in a cart-shed lit by two hurricane lamps, in which Church of England and Wesleyan chaplains took part, and Lieutenant Grenfell, R.A.M.C, a Wesleyan local preacher, gave the address. Another in a deep cutting, safe from shell fire, while overhead the guns were booming, but clear above the noise the music of the hymn--"Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine." Another, which Lieutenant Grenfell reports, in a farmyard, amid the neighing of horses and the constant tramp of men. Strange places these for the worship of God! But with a heart at rest, even amid the strife of battle, the Christian turns to God, and there is a deep longing in the hearts of men who cannot call themselves Christians for the consolations of religion.