the Russian soldiers, called Cossacks, are rough and cruel beyond all measure, and many's the village, and many's the cottage, all peaceful and smiling in the morning, which they have made a smoking ruin by night. A party of our English sailors entered a cottage one day, and there they found a man and woman quite dead on the floor. Lying on the woman's breast was a young baby, with its little arm wounded by the ball which had killed its mother, but still alive. Near the dead bodies stood a little fellow about three years old, with several wounds in his poor little arm.

Mrs. W. Oh, sir! the little ones, and the mother! How could they do it?

Mr. G. War respects no person-women, old people, children, all suffer alike. These poor children met with kind friends, for the sailors carried them on board their ship, and nursed and took care of them both till they had an opportunity of sending them to this country, where no doubt they are well cared for. But how many innocent babies have suffered we can't tell.

Mrs. W. And who can tell what that poor mother suffered, if she was sensible, while she was dying, with the thoughts of leaving those poor babies without a friend to help them?

Mr. G. Then, Mrs. Williams, the battlefield. Brave men rising in the morning in full health and vigour, rushing to the battle with courage and valour such as British soldiers almost invariably show, forgetting themselves and their own danger, but in the excitement of war shooting and killing as hard as they can, and as many as they can; knocked down themselves in a moment without a minute for prayer, trampled on by the horses, crushed by their fellows, dead at once, or, far, far worse for the body, left on the field when the battle is over to suffer all the anguish of their wounds, the agony of intolerable thirst, the intensity of cold; the thought of their friends and relations at home, and the misery of the heavy groans and piercing cries of fellow-sufferers around; a whole night the wounded have been left before help could be given, and then often such help-an arm or a leg cut off to save life; the dying and the suffering all huddled together in wretched rooms, and destitute of many of the comforts which are to be met with in every unionhouse in this kingdom.

Mrs. W. Dreadful, dreadful, to think of!

Mr. G. Yet some there are, amid these dreadful scenes, who remember whose they are, some real soldiers of Jesus Christ, who

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even there live to his glory; and though, alas! cursing and swearing may often be heard, the sound of prayer and Bible words are not uncommon in the quarters of our soldiers. One who died on the battle-field wrote shortly before to his mother, "If I fall, do not weep for me; the blood of Christ is as efficacious here as in England." The prayer of a valiant soldier in an earlier war was, "O God, if in the day of battle I forget thee, do not thou forget me!" and many a gallant soldier of Queen Victoria has fought the more bravely from a consciousness that his life was hid with Christ in God; and many who have fallen on the battle-fields of the Crimea have found that the Saviour in whom they trusted in life, has been near them in death.

Mrs. W. Surely soldiers, of all soldiers, of all persons, must think of their latter end.

Mr. G. No, Mrs. Williams, soldiers going to battle will not think,-unless God's Spirit puts it into their hearts; there is nothing in battle to bring a man serious thoughts, unless he asks God to teach him. The frequent sight of death only hardens: the excitement of fighting draws even a serious man away. Oh! there is much, much need for us who live at home in peace to pray for those poor fellows near Sebastopol, that God would work

by these awful scenes, and bring many of

them to Himself.

Mrs. W. I'm afraid, sir, I have prayed for my son alone, and have not thought enough about the other poor fellows.

Mr. G. The spirit of revenge raised by fighting must be a sore trial to men who wish to live like Christians. What do you think of those wretched Russians coming and knocking our poor soldiers on the head when they were lying helpless and wounded?

Mrs. W. Why they did'nt, surely?

Mr. G. Indeed they did, and it is difficult for our soldiers not to wish to have them killed in return. And worse stories than these are told. A Russian during a battle was lying desperately wounded, and begging for something to drink; one of our brave young officers stooped down and gave him drink out of his own flask; when what did the fellow do after he had drank, but grasp his musket and shoot his benefactor dead in a minute!

Mrs. W. Why, sir, the very wild beasts wouldn't have done it.

Mr. G. No, indeed; the very wild beasts have shown thankfulness to those who have helped them in trouble. That poor young officer had a brother who witnessed this brutal

act. In a sort of frenzy he killed the murderous Russian, and then throwing himself into the thickest of the battle, perished himself by the sword of the enemy.

Mrs. W. God in heaven have mercy on and for his dear Son's sake send an end to this cruel war!

us,

Mr. G. Now, Mrs. Williams, before you go, let us try and consider what our duties are, under the present trying circumstances in which our country is placed.

Mrs. W. Why, sir, I. can do nothing for my country.

Mr. G. Indeed you can, Mrs. Williams. Our country is richer and stronger for every good man or woman in it, be they noble or peasant; and our country is poorer and weaker for every bad man or woman in it, be they rich or poor. Your prayers may help to bring God's blessing on your country, or your sins may help to bring down his curse upon it. Remember Sodom and Gomorrah, and all the cities of the plain, would have been spared, if only ten righteous men had been found in them and Jeremiah tells us God would have ;

pardoned Jerusalem, if there had been only one good man in it.'

Mrs. W. But what can I do?