., and after we had finished, the leading Mohammedan in the
camp mounted the platform and gave a great oration in honour of the
Christian Association. He was followed by the leading Brahmin, and he in
turn by the senior Sheik, all speaking in most cordial terms of the
Y.M.C.A. In the midst of the orations, a stately Indian advanced
solemnly and placed a garland of flowers round my neck. Thrice this
garlanding process was repeated on different occasions--lovely roses and
sweet peas--and it was a great and much appreciated honour, though it
made one feel a trifle foolish at the time. After the banquet we
proceeded to the adjoining recreation tent, and it was an inspiration to
see it crammed from end to end with men of many religions and different
races, all happy and contented and all usefully employed. On the
platform a 'budginee' or Indian concert was proceeding; a crowd of men
at the tables were learning to write; another crowd receiving a lesson
in English; a large group looking at pictures and illustrated magazines,
whilst others were playing games or listening enraptured to the strains
of the Indian records on the gramophone. The C.O. who took us round,
said that when the men came to France not one of them could even sign
his name to his pay book, they all had to do it by means of
thumb-prints. 'To-day,' said he, 'every man can sign his name, and many
can write an intelligent letter, and they have learned everything in the
Y.M.C.A.' A few days previously an Indian of some rank stood with folded
arms, his back against the wall, in that very tent. He said nothing, but
took in everything, and when the marquee closed for the night and the
dusky hero warriors retired to their tents, he spoke to the Indian
secretary in charge. 'I have watched you men,' said he; 'you are not
paid by the Government, you come when you like and you go when you like.
There is only one religion in the world that would send its servants to
do what you are doing--to serve and not to proselytise. When this war is
over and we return to India, I want you to send one of your men to my
village. My people are all Hindus, but they will do what I tell them. I
have been watching you carefully, and I have come to the conclusion that
Christianity will fit the East as it can never fit the West.' One of the
lessons of the Red Triangle is that you can never win men by
antagonising them, or by speaking disrespectfully of the things they
hold dear. Love must ever