it--'Talk about keeping this woman out, she is of more value to me than truckloads of parsons and chaplains!' That was his way of putting it, not ours. We have the greatest possible admiration for the work of the chaplains at the Front. There is no finer body of men on active service to-day, and it is a privilege we greatly esteem to be permitted to co-operate with them and to be of some service to them in their great work. [Illustration: BAPAUME-CAMBRAI ROAD, WITH TREES ALL CUT DOWN BY THE GERMANS] The ladies have always been ready to share the risks with the men, and there are quite a number who have made the supreme sacrifice, including Miss Smallpage, killed by shrapnel in one of our munition huts in England; Miss Betty Stevenson, killed in an air attack in France; Miss Edith Howe, who died of cerebro-spinal meningitis; and Miss Lee, who lost her life in a fire in one of the huts on Salisbury Plain. In one of the great bases in France there is a small camp in which at one time there were boys only. They were too young to fight, their job day by day was the prosaic one of filling up petrol cans. One of these little chaps had badly hurt his hand, and it seemed to him the natural thing to go for sympathy and help to the lady of the Red Triangle. A brief examination convinced her that the damage was serious, and she bade him go to the doctor, whose tent was just across the way. Very grudgingly he trudged across to the doctor, but a few minutes later returned with the request that she would look at the damaged hand and see if the doctor had attended to it properly. She replied that it would never do to interfere with the doctor's work and, moreover, the doctor had no doubt done it far better than she could have done. Five times the lad came back with the request, 'O Missis! do look at my hand and see if he's done it right.' The fifth time he brought with him as an ally the Y.M.C.A. secretary in charge, who said, 'If I were you, Miss, I would look at his hand. The little chap will never be happy until you do.' Then she undid the bandages, looked at the dressing, and bandaging it up again said, 'There, it's just as I told you; the doctor has done it far better than I could; run away and be quite happy about it!' He went away, but returned again a few minutes later, and that time his eyes were full of tears as he cried, 'O Missis! I did think you'd have kissed me when you saw how bad it was,' and, like the good woman she was, she kissed him as his mother would have done. Let no one think that's what the ladies of the Red Triangle usually do, for it's not, and yet in that simple story you have the whole secret of the success of the war work of the Y.M.C.A. Time, and time again, one has been through every base camp in France, and has traversed the whole British line in France and Flanders, and wherever one has gone one has found the men yearning for sympathy and longing for home. Not that they want to return