revival, but of the kind of thing that may be taking place hundreds of times any week. * * * * * In the early days the famous ---- Division assembled in one of the great camps near Winchester. Regiments and units were there from India, South Africa--from all parts of the world. Rain came down in torrents and the mud was appalling. The huge Red Triangle tents were crowded from morning till night and the devoted workers, all too few in number, had neither time nor strength for religious work in the ordinary acceptance of the term. They could have limited their canteen work, and closed the refreshment counter excepting for a few hours daily. That would have been the easier plan, and would have given them the opportunity of devoting themselves to concerts and meetings in the evenings. The alternative would have been to spend and be spent in serving the material needs of the men, trusting that God would use the atmosphere of the place and the personal contact of the workers to influence the men, and thus make up for their inability to do much in the meeting line. They chose the latter plan, and the leader retiring for the night would throw himself on his bed and sometimes fall asleep without undressing. At times suffering from the reaction, he would ask himself the question, 'Is it worth while? Am I doing the right thing?' The answer came the night before the men left for the Front. It had been a record day, every moment had been crowded, and they had sold out. The majority had retired for the night, a few remained to tidy up the tents. This task accomplished, a group of soldiers gathered round the leader, and the talk soon turned quite naturally to some of the deepest problems of life. Presently a stalwart young Gordon Highlander told of his home in far away Scotland, of his farewell to his dear old mother before he went out to India, and of the promise he made her--the promise he had not kept--to read his Bible every day, to lead a pure clean life, and to keep clear of drink. The atmosphere of that crowded Y.M.C.A. tent had brought it all back to him and, unknown to the staff, he had renewed his vows to God and his mother. In making this confession he was overcome by emotion, and throwing his arms round the leader's neck he sobbed out the story of his repentance. There is no more moving sight than the anguish of a strong man, probably no sight that gives more joy in Heaven than the tears that tell of the return of the one that had been lost. * * * * *