Fancy lying out there in No Man’s Land for twenty-four hours with both legs broken and an arm! I said, “Sonny, you have had a rough time.” And this was his reply: “They copped me, worse luck, before I had a pot at them.” You can’t beat these boys of yours, the nation’s boys, the best boys of our homes, the flower of our manhood, the noblest and the dearest that God ever gave to a people. These boys, they are worth everything in the world, and there is _nothing_ you and I can do will ever repay them for what they are doing for you and for me. * * * * * When the great end of the day comes, the greatest joy of all will be the joy of knowing you have tried to make somebody else’s life happy. It is the flowers that you have made grow in unlikely places that will tell—not how much money you have made, not how big a house you have lived in, not how popular you were in the world of letters, of science, of finance, but—how many burdens have you lifted? How many dark hearts have you lightened? You can’t do too much for your boys. Remember what they are doing for you. Remember the lives that are being laid down for you. I shook hands with a boy a little while ago in Scarborough, and he said, “I believe I hold the record for having lost most in the war. I have lost five brothers, my sister was killed in the war, and my mother died of a broken heart through grief, but,” he said, “I’ll give my next week’s pay, sir, towards this new hut.” Another boy, when I was making my appeal, said, “I’ve been wounded and I am discharged. I’ll give my next week’s pay,” and up jumped a war-widow and she said, “I’ll give my next week’s pension.” I was talking in Doncaster, and I had a batch of wounded men from one of the local hospitals—a batch of twenty dressed in blue—and every one of them gave something; and when I looked round and said, “Boys, why are you giving?” one said, “Well, sir, we’re grateful for what it did for us when we were there.” People say, “What are you going to do with the huts after the war?” We want to pick them up, and bring them back to this country and put one down in every parish in the land, so that when the boys do come back they will still have the Y.M.C.A. hut to go into, so that they can still keep up the spirit of unity.