May this book before quite leaving the hands of its author be permitted this word of explanation.

Its subject took its rise in, and derived its existence from, war. Without war it had no existence. The watchword, indeed one might almost say, the “war cry” of our country and of our people was “peace.” War was obsolete—out of date—out of taste—in fact, out of the question: hence there existed no need for providing relief for it; and thus the Red Cross has stood, unrecognized in the shadows of obscurity all the eighteen years of its existence among us, waiting for the sure, alas, too sure, touch of war, to light up its dark figure, and set in motion the springs of action.

A few believed, and like disciples, waited with it. If at any time, during that period, one had presumed to offer to the American public a book treating exclusively upon the Red Cross, the production would have found neither publishers nor readers; but now that the stroke of war has fallen and the interest comes home to ourselves, neither can wait for the book to be properly written, hence the unfinished and unsatisfactory condition in which it must present itself.