THE RELIGION OF KINDNESS.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE " SPECTATOR."]
Sin,—As all its readers know with pride, the Spectator is interested in every good work that aids, however indirectly or in however small a way, in the winning of the war. On that assumption, let me illustrate a kind of service seldom, if ever, reported—voluntary work by Church and Chapel folk for the comfort of the King's troops in this country. Wesleyan Methodism operates in an area known as the Kent District- strictly, it takes in a little slice of Sussex—where it has fifty ministers and 7,411 Church members. On each night of the past winter, on the premises of the denomination, they and their friends have brightened the leisure hours of three thousand soldiers—most of them English, numbers of them from overseas. An admitted feature, open to criticism, is that, in a host of instances, not a word has been said about religion. May I tell a justifying and typical story? A soldier was billeted on some friends of mine at Rye. He had previously been at N—. " I was frightened," he said, " my first night there." " Why? " "I was billeted on the vicarage, and I thought the parson would preach to me." " Well, did he? " " No, he did not preach to me a bit; he was a real gentleman, he was "! That soldier will not miss church, should he go to N— again. After the war, will the Churches reap their reward ? The old prejudice against religion was real enough; many of the men who nursed it are simply in khaki now. But they can scarcely quite forget the kindness which was really religion on active service.—I am,
80 Cheriton Road, Folkestone. J. EDWARD HARLOW.
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