For instance, I was asked to give an address on National Defence to a great gathering of men--some 1500 or more as it turned out--at an Assault-at-Arms in the Kursaal at Worthing. Naturally I never trespassed upon such a busy man’s time by writing to him, unless in answer to a letter from himself, or unless I had something important of which to speak. So as I had not heard from Lord Roberts for some time, and had had no cause to write to him, I did not suppose he as much as knew of the Worthing meeting. Yet in opening the proceedings, the Mayor announced that he had just received a telegram from Lord Roberts to the effect that he was delighted I was to be the speaker that night, and warmly commending what I had to say to the attention of the audience. Such a message and from such a quarter, did more to assure me--an entire stranger to my audience--a welcome and a friendly hearing than I could otherwise have hoped to receive. One “Lost Chord” in the way of an unread message from Lord Roberts I often regret. In the company of Mr. Neville P. Edwards, then an organising secretary of the National Service League, I went as an Honorary Helper of the League on three caravan tours in Kent and Sussex. The last tour closed only a week or two before the outbreak of war, and Lord Roberts, who followed our progress with the keenest interest, sent us on several occasions by letter or by telegram a special message to deliver in his name to our audiences. These messages directly warned his fellow-countrymen of the imminence of war and of the necessity for preparation. Remembering that in the towns we often had an audience of one or two thousand, and even in the villages, of some hundreds, there must be many persons who now recall the weightiness and the gravity of the great soldier’s words. And I venture to add that no one whose privilege it was to hear them is likely ever to forget the equally grave, eloquent, and memorable words which fell from the lips of Mr. Rudyard Kipling--who by his single pen has done more to awaken the young manhood of the nation to England’s needs than any other writer living or dead--when he presided over one of our meetings. It seemed to me one of the ironies of fate that in the very caravan from which Lord Roberts’ message and Mr. Kipling’s words--both urgent warnings of imminent war--had been delivered, I should a few weeks later set forth as an Honorary Recruiting Officer in search of men to fight in the very war which Lord Roberts and Mr. Kipling had so faithfully foretold. Before taking the chair and introducing Mr. Edwards and myself to our audience, Mr. Kipling said to me: “I have just had a telegram from the Chief. He sent his thanks to me for presiding at the meeting, and asks that I convey his thanks to Edwards and to you. It is a very interesting and characteristic message, and I will read it when making my closing remarks to the meeting at the end.”