“OUR LADY OF THE HUT.”

Waipawa Mail, Volume XXXVII, Issue 7917, 11 August 1917, Page 3 (Supplement)

“OUR LADY OF THE HUT.”

HER MESSAGE TO NEW ZEALAND MOTHERS

A WOMAN’S INFINITE INFLU- * ENCE.

The Records of the war w’ould be incomplete if the sltory of the work of a noble band of British, women noiw numbering over 20,000 from all ranks in life who have put heart and soul into a wonderful piece of friendly ministration work in the “Bhito”, were passed unnoticed. ITiese women of white souls and noble lives have done a mighty service to counteract the influence of the scarlet woman and the “pub", the wet canteen -and the deadly “ away-from-home loneliness” of soldiers hungering for the music of a woman’s voice. In this unchristened arm»v are engaged such persons as Princess Victoria, Lady Rodney, Lidy Henry Grosvenor, Hon. Mils'. Stuart Wortley, Lady Forbei-Rob-ert'on, Countess of Beeibrougli, Lady Stradbrcoke, Mru. Winston Churchill, Lena Ash well and Mrs. (Col.) Mylrea—“ Our Lady of the Hut” as the New Zealand troops have lovingly named her, who tells the privilege she has enjoyed. Christian women of maturity and good sense from all positions of life—typists, teachers, sisters and mothers and wives of soldiers have done their bit. The barriers' of rank are obliterated. They work slide by side in te finest spirit, serving ; h.ot cocoa or tea, washing dishes, arranging concerts, handing out stationery or selling stamps.

No wonder the most telling periods in Dr. John Reiman's moving addresses lately given in American cit*es have been references to instances sucli as this. He tells of a lad of 19 just come from the furor and sti-a'in of a week’s fighting in the trenches, grimy and mud-plastered. After he had bought his cup of tea, a mug of cocoa., his jam and bread, postal cards and everything that he could prolong his buying, a pcnn,v at a time, and lie was asked

“Are your wants met, my boy, can 1 do anything further for you?” he said, “No, I don’t want anything more but, I, I—just like to hear the sound of your voice.”

There* i another story .which reflects the demand of the heart lor mothering. A boy about one of the lints/ who had cut his hand came to a. lady helper have it bound up. After neatlv giving her first aid attention the motherlyhearted woman said to the boy : “There, laddie, that’s ail right. Isn’t that as nice rs your mother would have done it?” But the lad sheepishly said, “But my mother would have kissed me". She did, and the kis.a had more than healing for a cut finger; it healed a mere boy’v aching heart for mothering. Mr,. Myli ea is the widow of the late Col. Mylrea who gave his life for the Empire nt Yprcs. Since this great sorrow befell her, she had found her solace and her delight in serving the New Zealanders with a devotion that is> unique. White-hearted,'mature Christian women of the Mrs. Mylrea type, will greatly neutralise the virulence of the scarlet woman’s virus. This is the letter tint Mrs. Mylrea —“Our Lady of the Hut," the robust New Zealanders call her, has written to the mothers of New Zealand : Dear Mothers of Brave New Zealand I/uis: I have been asked tjo write a short account of the work going on day by day in the Young Men’s Christian Association Hut at Sling Camp, Salisbury Plain, to which so many of your dear ones find tlieir wa.v before crossing over to France or on their return from that country after recovering from wounds) or sickness. There is a'hvnys greit excitement in the minds of the helpers and niyself when we hear a reinforcement from New Zealand is expected to arrive in camp, as for us 5 t mean- much additional work of a most

enjoyable kind, and the welcoming of many strange faces to the hut. It is a grand sight to see the khaki lino wending its; way from the station through the camp to the various huts allotted to it. but one that never fails to make me think of the aching, lonely longing for sierht of the loved faces that we are looking upon; and we. one and all, strive with all our power, from the moment they enter the Y.M.C.A.. to “ mother” and attend to the needs of “the strangers within our gates”. And their needs are many ; so mnn.v develop cold- and coughs coming from the tropical weather through whicH they have passed so recently on the voyage, to a colder climate. Homely remedies, quinine, and camphorated oil and eucalyptus can be at once procured. In fact, we have remedies to remove all minor ailments. Here is a lad whose rifle has rubbed the skin off his hand; a boy who is footsore after a long march; another who in opening a tin has badly cut his fingers. Minor dressingT to be done “ on the premises” for all these cases, and many, man,v others, give me never-ending pleasure, as 1 happen to be o certificated nurse and was at a hospital in France till my health broke down. But what one so often finds the boys need most of all is an oportunitv to “just tiaflk” about tlieir far-away home and of the precious mother, sister and often wife, left hell ind. It relieves their loneliness, and is a never-ending source of interest to ii.-, at the same time.

Many, many dozens of times a lad has entered the hut looking drearv and sad, but after a cup of tea in my sittingroom and an hour's talk -all about the loved ones left behind lie ba«J aheered up wonderfully and gone away brighter and happier for “ letting off a little. stiWm” on the subject of home and mother. And we are shown pictures—generally very well-worn onesI—of 1 —of the dear home land and all the relatives left behind there. I need not describe tin* hut. Photographs of it have found their way to all of you in New Zealand, but I wish you could sometimes stee your hoys in it in the evenings, when the red curtains are dhf.|wn and the ml lampshades all show up and the t ildes are lined with contented-looking lads drinking tlieir hot tea and consuming plates of fried eggs, sausages', etc., while the piano is “going” utft the far end of the hall to the accompaniment of the clicking of billiard and pingpong ball-. Tt is a cheerful sight and would, I am sure, gladden your aching hearts.