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W.S. Jaffrey represented the Presbyterians, and the Rev. E.P. Lowry was the senior Wesleyan chaplain. =The Battle of Belmont.= And then came the battle of Belmont! From Orange River the troops had been compelled to march, and had their first taste of the African sun in the greatness of his strength.
"Shall it be a smithy?" said my father. "Oh, what you like. The Wynnes are well down in the world trade, horseshoeing. Good evening." "Gainor! Gainor!" cried my mother; but she was gone in wrath, and out of the house. "Thou wilt leave the academy. I have already arranged with Lowry, in South street, to take thee. Three months should answer."
I took no notice whatever of his question, or the preceding remark, but passed on to formal inquiries concerning his health. My close study of his malady helped me here. I could assist him to describe and localize his symptoms, and I soon discovered that the disease was as yet in a very early stage. "You have a better grip of it than Lowry," he said, sighing with satisfaction.
Then as per the schedule in force for at least an epoch good-natured, pot-bellied Tom Hingman, the oldest A.D.A. in the office, rose heavily, fumbled with his stubby fingers among the blue indictments on the table, drew one forth, panted a few times, gasped out "People against Daniel Lowry," and looked round in a pseudo-helpless way as if not knowing exactly what to do.
"Hey, you're in the scene!" called Pete Lowry, and abruptly stopped counting and turning the crank. "You're in the scene, sister. Step over here to one side, will you?" The fat director waved his pink-cameoed hand impatiently. An old bench had been placed beside the house, under a window. Jean backed a step and sat down upon the bench, and looked from one to the other.
Jason did not wholly break with tradition, but retained those elements of the old muddled system that had their value, chartering steamboats for outings on the river, giving colossal picnics in Lowry Park. But he was not loved, as the rough-and-tumble Irishmen had been loved; he did not make himself common; he was surrounded by an aura of mystery which I confess had not failed of effect on me.
E.P. Lowry, for instance, managed to get the use of the Lunatic Ward, and there the men met and prayed, caring nothing for the nickname of 'lunatic' freely bestowed throughout the voyage. =Religious Work on a Troopship.=
It wore the same shingles I was sure of it; for did not I know the roof where we boys, night after night, hunted for the skin of a black cat, to be taken on a dark night, to make a plaster for a poor lame man? Lowry the tailor lived there when boys were boys. In his day he was fond of the gun. He always carried his powder loose in the tail pocket of his coat.
God help them, our British soldiers aye, and God help those they have left behind them! =Mr. Lowry Ordered South.= Let us glance at just one scene more before we say good-bye to old Aldershot and follow our soldier lads on their journey South. It is the farewell of one of the best-loved of Aldershot chaplains the Rev. E.P. Lowry, senior Wesleyan chaplain.
Then he looked up, caught the quizzical, inquiring glance of Pete Lowry, and beckoned that secret-smiling individual over to him. "Read that!" he grunted. "Read it and tell me what you think of it." Pete Lowry read it carefully, and grinned when he handed it back. He did not, however, tell Robert Grant Burns just exactly what he thought of it.
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