indoo, or Brahmin--the men of every religion and
no religion, and yet the religious note is ever dominant, though no
man's religion will ever be attacked from a Y.M.C.A. platform.

The story of the Red Triangle is, indeed, one of the great romances of
the war. Its work has never been regarded as an end in itself, but
rather as auxiliary to that of other organisations. It is auxiliary to
the Church, and its doors have been thrown wide open to the Padres of
all denominations. Protestants, Catholics, Jews--even Mohammedans--have
worshipped God in their own way within the hospitable walls of the
Association. It has been auxiliary to the official medical services of
the Army, the R.A.M.C., and the Red Cross--in hospitals and convalescent
camps, and with the walking wounded at the clearing stations at the
Front. It has arranged concerts and entertainments by the thousand for
patients and nurses; has looked after the friends of dangerously wounded
men, and has often handed over its huts to be used as emergency
hospitals; while in hosts of other ways which can never be recorded, it
has been able to render vitally important service. It has been auxiliary
to the Military machine at every turn of the war. In the midst of the
camp though not of it, its secretaries and workers conform to military
rules and are subject to discipline, although they are themselves
civilians. In this way the Association has provided the human touch, and
officers and men alike have appreciated the fact that there is one place
in camp where discipline through being temporarily relaxed, has been
permanently strengthened.

The Romance of the Red Triangle, like the story of the first crusade,
has been the romance of the pioneer. The Y.M.C.A. was first in the
field, though now there are many other organised societies and private
individuals doing similar work on the lines which it thought out and
proved to be practicable. Indeed, the whole story of the Y.M.C.A. has
been full of adventurous episodes of romance, not merely during the war,
but long before it, commencing seventy years ago, when George Williams
came as a boy from Somerset to London, and as one of a band of twelve
intrepid young men, founded the first branch of a movement destined to
spread to all corners of the world. It is only during these years of war
that the Society has fully come into its own, and received universal
recognition, but we do not forget that to those pioneers of the early
Victo