On the wharf in New York when the soldiers were returning home some soldiers were talking about the Salvation Army. “Did you ever go to one of their meetings?” asked one. “I sure did!” answered a big fine fellow—a college man, by the way, from one of the well known New England universities. “I sure did!—and it was the most impressive service I ever attended. It was down in an old wine cellar, and the house over it _wasn’t_ because it had been blown away. The meeting was led by a little Swede, and he gave a very impressive address, and followed it by a wonderful prayer. And it wasn’t because it was so learned either, for the man was no college chap, but it stirred me deeply. I used to be a good deal of a barbarian before I went to France, but that meeting made a big change in me. Things are going to be different now. “The place was lit by a candle or two and the guns were roaring overhead, but the room was packed and a great many men stood up for prayers. Oh, I’ll never forget that meeting!” That meeting was in the old wine cellar in Mandres. The town of Mandres was shelled daily and it was an exceptional day that passed without from one to ten men being killed as a result of this shelling. Here are some extracts from letters written by the Ensign from the old wine cellar in Mandres: “Somewhere in France,” May 15, 1918. I am still busy in my old wine-cellar in France. I must give you an idea of my daily routine: Get up early and, go to my cellar. Get wood and make fire; go for some water to put on stove. Take my mess kit, helmet, gas mask and cane, walk about one block to the part of the church standing by the artillery kitchen and get my hand-out mess, go back to my cellar and have my breakfast, see to the fire, fuel, clean and light the lamps, dip and carry out some water and mud (but have now found a place to drain off the water by cutting through the heavy stone wall and digging a ditch underneath). I dig whenever I have time. Then the boys begin to come in—some right from the trenches, others who are resting up after a siege in the trenches. They are all covered with mud when they come in and have to talk, stand and even sleep in mud. Then I must have the cocoa and coffee ready and serve also the candy, figs, nuts, gum, chocolate, shaving-sticks, razors, watches, knives, gun oil, paper, envelopes, _etc_. I mostly wear my rubber boots and stand in a little boot “slouched” down so I can stand straight. Almost every evening we have a little “sing-song” or regular service, and on Sunday two or three services.