TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston

the Chapel in our own time. At the end of the
service the bearded minister came and conversed
with me very cordially and I concealed the fact that
it was my first experience of his religion, Sunday
morning in the Baptist Chapel made the trenches
seem very remote. What possible connection was
there?

Next day some new officers arrived, and one of
them took the place of the silent civil engineer in my
room. We had the use of the local cricket ground;
I came in that evening feeling peaceful after batting
and bowling at the nets for an hour. It seemed some-
thing to be grateful for—that the War hadn't killed
cricket yet, and already it was a relief to be in flannels
and out of uniform. Coming cheerfully into the hut
I saw my new companion for the first time. He had
unpacked and arranged his belongings, and was sit-
ting on his camp-bed polishing a perfectly new pipe-
He looked up at me. Twilight was falling and
there was only one small window, but even in the
half-light his face surprised me by its candour and
freshness. He had the obvious good looks which go
with fair hair and firm features, but it was the radiant
integrity of his expression which astonished me. While
I was getting ready for dinner we exchanged a few
remarks. His tone of voice was simple and reassuring,
like his appearance. How does he manage to look
like that? I thought; and for the moment I felt all my
age, though the world had taught me little enough,
as I knew then, and know even better now. His was
the bright countenance of truth; ignorant and un-
doubting; incapable of concealment but strong in
reticence and modesty. In fact, he was as good ELS
gold, and everyone knew it as soon as they knew
him.