The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1904-06-29

In one of the British regiments engaged
in the war with the Beers was a Bug,
good-natuned fellow named Bob. The
story of his death is one of the belated
anecdotes that have found their way
tardily into the English papers,.
Bob had an unhappy genius for talilng
into difficulties. His name appeared often
among the records of offences. Officers
men liked him for his good nature and
enough to keep him from the breaches Of
discipline which constantly marred his life
as a soldier. Religion, so far from having
any personal meaning for him, was only a
matter for a joke. His natural good feel.
ings had never hawered into the manhood
that was possible to him. -.
One of his chief amusements was poklng
fun at a fellow private, Tim ,Akers, a
young man of gentle nature and firm re-
ligious faith. -.
"Tim," he said, one day, 1T wish you'd
lend me thataprayer-book O. yours"
whats the joke, Bob?" asked the
young man, quietly. He had learned to
meet Bob's clumsy scofing without quar-
reling.
IT want to write a letter home to my
words in that book O. yours"
eyes, you will find good words in it,
and the girl will be pad to get them. -.
/ Bob burst into a loud laugh. "Ho! no!
You're an easy bite, kid! You don't
really suppose I'd write religion in a love
letter."
Tim started to say that religion is love
of the purest kind, but the uselessness OF
it was so plain that he said nothing, and
so the matter dropped. The next day {
battle was fought. 1t lasted until night
hid the forms of the wounded and the
faces of the dead. When the gray dawn
broke on the dreadful scene Bob was lying
between two dead comrades. A sergeant
who lay near him with a shattered foot
heard him say in a weak voice, "Tl be
away in a few shakes. Is there any reli-
gious cove near me-"
"Is that you, Bob" answered Tins
weary, boyish voice.
bad hurt, Tim?" asked the sergeant.
eyes, IN done for" answered Tim.
"Me, too, boy" said Bob, thickly. IT
say, Tim, / didn't write that letter. l
'adn't the cart, an now I'm done for an
she'll never get it.. Can you-can you pray
for me, Tim1an' for her? She don't need
it, but I do"
eve all need it, Bob" answered Tim,
gently and family, ~
Give us your and Tim. I can just
reach you"
Tim stretched out his hand and Said,
"Now say it after me-" and he repeated
the Lords Prayer.
Bob said the words after him, clumsily,
awkwardly, but with a thrill in his heavy,
thick voice. The sergeant joined in.
"I-can't-sgeak-any-more," whisper.
ed the boy. "Shut your eyes and don't be
afraid. We go up together. It'll be all
right. You'll get in, Bob"
with all the wrongs I ave on me,
boy"
The breath had left Inns body. The
sergeant glanced at Bob and saw a look of
content spread over his face. The dawn
was full upon the field. A drowsy numb
ness came over him, and when he woke
out of it he found himself in the camp hos
pital.
He told the story afterward to his COM
rades. 1t was long before the tale got be.
yond the regiment, for soldiers do not tell
all the stories they have lived and seen;
but every man in the regiment knew of
Bob's first and last prayer. A sermon had
been preached to them that they did not
forget.-Yolth's Companion.