But what touched them most was the thought of what England stood for in the life of the world. It always has been, and always will be, the _Home of Freedom_. Let a slave once reach a British man-of-war--he is free. Britannia's daughters are rallying to her now because she has given them _Freedom_, for they see that she is the champion in this war of the Freedom of the World against a universal Tyranny.
Then I turned to what they themselves owed to England, their homes, their faith, their security to work, their happy friendships, and their love of wife, mother, and children. What they had not realised up to now was that _all this was in deadly peril for the first time for a hundred years_!
One mistake of our Fleets, one crushing defeat in France, and the foe would be upon us; the fate of Belgium would be the fate of England!
What more glorious than to follow the example of those who had fought and died for England?
"Nor needs he any hearse to bear him hence Who goes to join the men of Agincourt."
In spite of the presence of the Generals a great cheer broke from the five thousand men when I said, "I would rather die than see England a German province"; but finding that they were allowed to cheer, as deep a cheer followed the statement that, if it came to the last Waterloo, it was far better to slip across the silver streak and fight it on the other side than let an invaders foot _for the first time for a thousand years_ stain our native land.
In the evening all the four battalions present volunteered for foreign service, and as four more at the neighbouring Camp had volunteered the day before in answer to a similar appeal, eight battalions were added to the fighting strength abroad of the British Army.
_Painting and Drawings_ by W. B. WOLLEN, R.I.
_Copyright in the U.S.A. by A. E. W. Mason_
"NO, no," said Colonel von Altrock abruptly. "It is not always true."
The conversation died away at once, and every one about that dinner table in the Rue St. Florentin looked at him expectantly. He played nervously with the stem of his wineglass for a few moments, as though the complete silence distressed him. Then he resumed with a more diffident air:
"War no doubt inspires noble actions and brings out great qualities in men from whom you expected nothing. But there is another side to it which becomes apparent, not at once, but after a few months of campaigning. Your nerves get overstrained, fatigue and danger tell their tale. You lose your manners, sometimes you degenerate into a brute. I happen to know. Thirty years have passed since the siege of Paris, yet even to-day there is no part of my life which I regret so much as the hours between eleven and twelve o'clock of Christmas night in the year 'seventy. I will tell you about it if you like, although the story may make us late for the opera."