For His Name's Sake.

ONLY those people who have experienced being "handed over" can understand the meaning of such a phrase, more especially when the term only applies to that type of manhood which is looked upon with contempt and even derision.

"Handed over" is a crude, harsh, rough phrase, and to realise its meaning three parties are necessarily concerned. In this case, two mighty powers - the authorities of the civil law and the military on the one hand - and an innocent individual deemed to have transgressed, on the other.

As a preamble, I must mention the first "handling." It occurred in May, 1916, when "calling-up" notices were delivered and one knew too well the consequences of ignoring the same. A few days having lapsed after the date due to report at the recruiting station, the police officer in charge of the town mutually arranged to effect an arrest and removal to County Court for trial. Fortunately, I had a friend similarly situated, and our dual "arrest" was systematically carried out, both prisoners meeting the "knight of the handcuffs"

at the railway station on the morning of May 30th. There was no scene.

Arriving at the County Hall, we were immediately confronted by a magistrate, and as Tuesday was not trial day, we were remanded in custody for twenty-four hours. This particular day and succeeding night will never be erased from memory. Deposited in a cell 15ft. by 10ft., ample privilege was afforded for meditation. Thoughts too numerous to take note of, or even remember, flashed spasmodically through that chamber which at such times appears to be unlimited and equally receptive to all demands. Pensive moods were frequent and took one home again to those very near and dear, from whom such a sudden separation was keenly felt; to the ideals and principles, non-violation of which resulted in the present position; to the future, unknown to us, but implicit faith and confidence was in "Him who held the key."

At intervals we were allowed the use of the court yard for exercise. This was about twenty yards long by six yards wide. The boundary walls peered well into the sky, and occasionally the sight of the valueless sparrow created the spirit of jealousy and envy in our hearts. One was accustomed to palatable food, served in an appetising way, but the manner and distribution and quality of the prison diet caused one to allow hunger to predominate, rather than submit to a much lower type of feeding. Picture the fare. Bits of potato (some hot, some cold), small portions of meat and gravy, all mixed together on a soup plate. As a wooden table-spoon was the only utensil available, brushing thoughts away, I made one attempt, which was sufficient. Placing one spoonful in my mouth,

the teeth marks of a previous user could be felt on the spoon, and I felt "fed up" - but hungry. This was dinner-time and I was naturally anxious, wondering if something better would arrive for tea. This anxiety was not allayed when my attention was directed to the "menu," which was posted up in the passage.

Here it is word for word:-

The following is the Allowance of Diet for all Prisoners confined in the Lock-ups in the County of N----:

1/2 lb. of bread (best seconds); 1 pint of tea or coffee, with sugar.

1/2 lb. of bread, 1/2lb. potatoes, 1 pint soup containing 3ozs. meat.

1/2 lb. of bread, 1 pint of tea or coffee with sugar.

The coffee or tea is to be made sufficiently strong, and the meat to be hot.

Any person not being supplied according to the above scale ought to complain to the Superintendent of the Station, who has strict orders to report the complaint to the Chief Constable.

Each meal had the same effect on the writer, but relief came next day when relatives supplied me with good things. However, day and night passed with leaden feet, moments were apprently taking the space of hours, and sleep was impossible. Think of the marvellous transformation; from a happy home

and comfortable, easy bed to a cold white glazed brick chamber, whose furniture was wholly composed of a few boards roughly nailed together for a bed.

But trial day came, and before noon we were ushered into the presence of the "powers that be." Mine was the first case. Entering the dock, my eyes instantly rested on relatives in the court, and, since only a glance was permissible, my feelings at this point were indescribable. A solicitor, on my behalf, questioned his client very minutely, and then addressed the judge, challenging the faulty phraseology of the Military Service Act, and pleading for the prisoner to be allowed to continue his usual employment, which was specified as of National Importance. Although the verdict was premeditated, the judge sought his clerk's advice before announcing the universal verdict: Forty-shillings fine and "handed over."

Another visit to the cells ensued to await military escort. Our pre-conceived notions of army life received an awakening when we were introduced to our khaki host by the warder - one man for two prisoners, by the way. He was a real gentleman - no handcuffs, no bullying, no frowns, no jeers, nothing but welcome smiles, and words something like these, "I hate this job, but I've got to do it." Emerging into the street once more, one felt the shackles of confinement instantly loosed and forsaken, temporarily at any rate, and found fond greeting awaiting from one's nearest of kin. We had overcome one obstacle and were fully prepared for the next.

Under an hour's time, we were moving in the train en route for the barracks, and again

coming events occupied too large a sphere of our horizon which, in a degree, brought us to a state of despondency. On arrival at barracks, among the busy stir of hundreds of recruits passing to and fro, with occasional bugle blasts and harsh voices here and there of "Shun," "Halt," "Quick March," "About Turn," etc., we were led before an army officer who required answers to a list of questions. "Married or Single?" was one question, and my reply was the former. (Since the "I will" was said after Nov. 2, 1915, I was deemed to be a single married man ). "Sign here for wife's allowance," said he in a stern authoritative tone. "That I cannot do," I replied gently, and added that if I did, my wife absolutely refused to accept any army pay. Whereupon the storm of his language arose, the wind of his temper waxed strong, and after giving an exhibition of his innermost feelings and thoughts, he commanded the escort to confine me to the guard-room and to shoot me if he liked. The guard-room was reached, the door clanged, and the huge bolt shot home. I now realised that I had indeed been "Handed Over."

In such a record as this, I am constrained to mention those to whom we owe much and to extend to them heartfelt thanks and appreciation for invaluable advice, encouragement and assistance which extended over that period of exile from home for nearly three years, especially to Brethren T.E. Entwistle, Geo. Hassell, W. Crosthwaite, J. Luck, J. Barker, R. Price, E. Forsyth, and S. Jepson.