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All around us, though not yet in their uniforms, are scattered the future soldiers of the new Citizen State, ready and eager, poor fellows, for their fifty miles march a day, on coffee and bread, or even on bread and water!

By what right do we ask such things from the sons of women? That, cut off from every pleasure, all joy in God’s world, they should spend their days in war and prayer! They seem happier, somehow, than those of us who have travelled and seen the world, who must think and judge for ourselves, wondering at last what is Truth or Justice, where are the profits of self-sacrifice? Love and joy are, after all, but the “negatives” of grief and hate. Abolish the dark couple, and you will gain the light.

For the moment, however, the soldiers of to-morrow are content. They have never tasted alcohol; miserably clad, without proper clothing or shelter, they sit about us expressionless and resigned—singing hymns of joy that sound far more like a funeral dirge. There is no need for thought, since they are ready to die for their fatherland, their leader, their faith.