in the silence of their home, and it was
the mother who spoke, slowly and quietly, 'It almost breaks my heart to
know my boy gave his precious life for a worthless life like that.' And
yet, what of the young officer himself? Did he know the type of man it
was for whom he was about to make the supreme sacrifice? Of course, he
knew; he was in his own platoon, and yet, knowing, he willingly gave his
life in an attempt to save him. One cannot recall this story without
thinking of those wonderful words: 'For scarcely for a righteous man
will one die: yet per-adventure for a good man some would even dare to
die, but God commendeth His Love towards us, in that, while we were yet
sinners, Christ died for us.'

* * * * *

In a far away corner of the Harfleur Valley the Y.M.C.A. has one of its
finest equipments. The leader was a great man in every sense of the
word, and every night he organised a sing-song for the troops, which
invariably went with a swing. He seemed to know by instinct when to
strike right in, and what to say. A night came, however, when he seemed
to have struck a bad patch, for no one would play, sing, or recite. The
story is told here almost word for word, as it was first told me by a
leading worker home from France, who drew a graphic word picture of the
hut leader pleading from the platform for help which never came. The
huge hut was crammed with men, and looking at the crowd standing at the
back he noticed a movement amongst them. A trooper detaching himself
from the crowd slowly elbowed his way to the front. It was easy to tell
by his unsteady steps that he was under the influence of drink. Mounting
the platform, he turned first to the audience and then to the Y.M.C.A.
leader, and cried in a voice that every one could hear: 'What's the
matter, Boss? Won't any one oblige you? Never mind, padre, if nobody
will help you, I will! What would you like me to do? I can play, or I
can sing, or I can recite--or I can pray!' For a moment the secretary
did not know what to reply. He was a man of experience, but had never
been placed in a predicament like that before. To his horror he saw the
poor drunken trooper stumble to the edge of the platform and with hands
outstretched called for prayer, and there followed one of the strangest
prayers ever heard in public as the drunkard cried out, 'Everlasting
God! Everlasting God! Everlasting God----!' He could get no further, but
broke down an