To the Negro soldier no thought was dearer or more inspiring than that of these women at home, so largely defenceless; and no hope was stronger than that the future might be better for them and their children. Only such feeling explains the tenderness, even the tears, with which the men in uniform greeted the women of their race who in one way or another strove to help them. At Camp McClellan one man was daily growing weaker from pneumonia. One morning a Negro woman who was a member of the Red Cross brought some flowers to be given to him. A beautiful rose was selected by the Chaplain who, when giving it to the soldier, said, “This is the flower that the lady brought you this morning.” “For me?” asked the man; then, looking at the gift with all its beautiful suggestion, he said, “Chaplain, I am twenty-three years old. Do you know that this is the first time anyone ever gave me a flower?” Overseas it was the same. To one talented young woman who went to France to try to bring good cheer, and who inspired the men by her beautiful playing on the piano, a soldier wrote appreciatively: “I just want to thank you for the way you entertained us soldiers last evening and say that you really did bring sunshine to us all. To-day it seems that a burden has been lifted off us, and we wish you could stay in our camp forever. I feel better than I have felt in the whole eleven months that I have been overseas. All the soldiers are talking of you to-day; it has been a year since some of them saw a colored woman. A friend of mine is from Cincinnati and he joins me in wishing you Good Luck and Godspeed.” Not only through the personal presence of such a worker as this but in far-reaching and unseen ways the influences of home were brought to bear upon the men at the front. Sometimes in the darkest night the great good cheer and the big heart of the Negro shone forth. More than one man “higher up,” while on patrol in No Man’s Land, was buoyed up by the simple faith of an untutored Negro lad. “Officer,” said one, in such a situation, “it is hard, but I’m with you to the end.” On another night, before they went over the top, six boys were in a dug-out. After talking things over, one suggested that they say the Lord’s Prayer. Only one knew it; but while a game of dice was going on in another corner, the little group knelt and repeated the words, gathering strength for the attack that was to come before the new day. Hearing a slight noise toward the close, they turned and saw that a major had come into the dug-out. “Let’s say it again, boys,” he said, “it gives me more courage too.” Then they knelt again and the officer joined with them in the prayer.