Some day we shall all be free. Racial hatred will die out; citizenship will be important but humanity as a whole much more so. Boundaries and territories will assume their rightful place in man's thinking, but goodwill and international understanding will matter more. Religious differences [72] and sectarian dislikes must eventually vanish and we shall eventually recognize "one God and Father of all, Who is above all and through all and in us all." These are no idle and visionary dreams. They are slowly emerging facts. They will emerge more rapidly when the right educational processes condition the coming generations; when the churches awaken to the fact of Christ - not to the fact of theological interpretations - and when money and the products of the earth are regarded as goods to be shared. Then these critical international problems will assume their rightful place and the world of men will move forward in peace and security towards the new culture and the future civilization. Maybe my prophesies don't interest you. But these matters interest me and all people who love their fellowmen.

Quetta is the largest town in Baluchistan, and Baluchistan is a kind of buffer state between India and Afghanistan. I spent nearly two years there, off and on, though I went down into India several times, crossing the Sind Desert five times. There is very little vegetation in Baluchistan, except juniper trees, until the land is irrigated and then anything can grow. The roses in Baluchistan are [73] something that I have seldom seen equaled anywhere and in my day they blazed in every garden. In the spring the country is a riot of cosmos and then later come the sunflowers. Thereby hangs a tale. I was speaking to my Sunday Bible class in Quetta one afternoon and telling the soldiers how the human being naturally and normally turns towards God. I used the sunflower as an illustration of this, pointing out that it was called sunflower because it followed the sun in the heavens. The next morning a soldier came to the door of our sitting-room, with a very grave face, and asked if I would mind coming out into the garden for a minute. I followed him and, without a word, he pointed to the sunflowers. Every single one of them, hundreds of them, had their backs to the sun.

Quetta was the place where I first shouldered responsibility and was, more or less, on my own, though Miss Clara Shaw was with me. The troops up in Quetta had taken possession of the Soldiers Home to such an extent that they got quite seriously out of hand. The lady in charge, I fancy, got a little scared, though she probably was not as scared as I was. A gang of soldiers were having a grand time night after night trying to break the place up. About twenty of them would come down from barracks together. They would go into the coffee-shop, order cocoa and fried eggs and then spend the rest of the evening shying jugs of cocoa and fried eggs at the walls. The result can easily be imagined. The mess was abominable and their attitude was worse. So I was sent up to see what could be done. I was simply terrified and did not know what to do. I spent the first few evenings wandering in and out of the coffee-shop and reading-rooms, only to find that my presence made them worse. Word had gone out that I was a hard-boiled young thing and that I was liable to report [74] them to the authorities. They were, therefore, out to show me.