Paraphrasing a well-known song to fit a new emergency one of my good friends, on learning the title of my new book, sends the following lines which he hopes may find a place in Making Life Worth While. And so they shall, with many, many thanks to the contributor.

There is a wonderful pathos in this lyric. Al Jolson, in a serious moment, could put enough soul stirring melody in the last line to bring an audience to its feet. And wouldn’t “Rodey” make a Billy Sunday meeting fairly ring with it?

There is more than sentiment in the verse quoted—there is duty, loyalty, fidelity. Our boys have a right to expect that nothing untoward shall be allowed to disturb their dear ones while they are absent, and that whatever the misfortune to themselves over there, the welcome home will be whole-hearted and genuine.

If ever there was need of cheerful sympathy, the genuine article, it should come forth now for distribution among the homes from which husband, son, or brother has gone forward in defense of civilization. One need not fear to show an interest, which is heartfelt, to any wife, mother, father, or other relatives of an American soldier. It is a relief to them to share their hopes and fears with friendly neighbors. They are brave as they never were before. They are fortified by the spirit of the manly fellow who went forth to war through the very gate you lean upon as they tell what they know.

One very dear mother, much too young in appearance to suggest the idea of having sent a son to the front, told me as she smiled through tears that he had brought down two in a single action, but unfortunately was forced to land on enemy soil and was made a prisoner.

“I hope they don’t starve him,” said she sweetly, “nor treat him cruelly. He is so gentle and kindly himself. I believe they will be good to him.”

“Of course they will,” said I, joining my hope with her own and wishing with all my might that I could really share in her belief. Then her wistful look changed into one of confident expectancy. I had added to her store of hopefulness and left her laughing heartily at my prophecy that her boy would probably “kidnap his guard some night and ride him back to camp.”

No doubt about her keeping the home fires burning, nor of the strong heart within her—“hoping, longing, calling for him.”