LAND AND >VATER 
October 9, 1915. 
strange joy ''ound utterance in a somewliat trembling 
voice, liunibl^, perliaps a little awed. 
" I meant your Beauty ... ! " I whispered it in 
my inmost heart. For there was a shyness in nie I could 
pot understand. 
And then a strange thing happened, for, as she 
stood between me and the open window, a light air 
stirred her dress, and I cauglit the gleam of something 
bright beneath, almost as tliough siie wore a breastplate 
of some kind — like shining armour. 
" Who are you, then? " I murmured, trying to 
raise myself, but sinking back again before the painful 
effort. I had the feeling that for such love as hers, such 
beauty, splendour, strength, no loss, no pain was of the 
least account. I forgot my conditions, almost my 
identity. I was just — a man like other men. 
" I am rich," she answered, " I am true, and I am 
faithful unto death and after it. All that you ask is 
mine to give. And I am here to give it you." 
" Me — ? " I could not believe my ears. Some- 
thing broke within me, bathing my soul in light. I 
repeated my astonished tjuestion. I mentioned my 
name. 1 thought swiftly. Everything, by heaven, was 
worth it, if this were true. 
She looked down at me for a long time without 
speaking. Then her lips moved a little; the wonderful 
•yes brimmed over; she said two perfect words as she 
gazed at me : " Thank you. . . ." It was followed by 
my name, my little name. 
What happened exactly I cannot tell. I remember 
thinking U must be somewhere a miserable mistake, that 
it was too impossible for truth, when in the midst of my 
anguish she again repeated my name with such pride 
and gratitude in her voice, such love and admiration in 
her eyes, that my doubts were gone and I felt re-made 
in joy. " It is written here," she said, pointing to where 
her heart lay beating behind the gleaming metal. 
She then bent over me and kissed me . . . she took 
me in iier comforting arms ... I fell asleep. And in 
my sleep I dreamed £>{ a new and glorious movement, 
light as air, and easy, swift as wind. Everything in the 
world was mine, for everytliing came to me of its own 
accord. All space lay within my reach. I was no longer 
walking, running, climbing. I had wings .... But 
also I remembered where it was that I had seen her, and 
cxsnsequently why I loved her so. I understood at last, 
God bless her, and I loved her all the more. 
Hitherto, indeed, I had asked nothing of her know- 
ingly, yet I had taken all she had to give. I suppose, 
unconsciously as it were, I knew this well enough. 
Tliat, apparently, was why I fought. ... At any rate, I 
remembered clearly w liere I had seen iier, and why she 
seemed so curiously familiar, yet unrealised; for her 
face, now stamped upon my soul, is also stamped upoa 
every copper penny of the Realm.. 
WAR AND WORK. 
By Lord Sydenham. 
THE memory of great European conflicts, in- 
volving all the Great Powers, had passed 
away before Germany decided to start the 
general conflagration for which she had 
laboriously prepared. Denmark, Italy, 
Austria, France, Turkey, and the Balkan States had 
not forgotten what the invasion of their territories 
implied and entailed; but. to the British people, kept 
secure by the Navy, the idea of a struggle for existence 
.was beyond realisation last year. All the belligerent 
nations have now been forced to adapt their national life 
to the conditions of war— conditions which have 
changed their outlook, subjected them to severe strain, 
and made supreme demands on their patriotism, forti- 
tude, and endurance. It was inevitable that the process 
of adaptation should vary in the case of different races, 
and even of different individuals of the same race. In- 
ternal affairs, political methods, education, and powers 
Of imagination have all contributed to smooth the transi- 
tion from peace to war on the one hand, and to create 
difficulties on the other. 
From this point of view, the British people were 
forced to take up arms at a peculiarly imfavourable time. 
1 he Irish question led to acute dissensions, and Civil 
iWar had been barely averted. The industrial situation 
•was embutercd, and Party exigencies had required a 
ragmg propaganda with the effect, if not the object of 
settmg class against class and of obscuring the true 
assumed t T' """"fT '" '^'^'^ P'^^ -'° -': 
assumed to have studied the foreign horizon, had 
assured the country that there was no danger and 
organised labour had been led to believe that SioreTn 
5mpos°s"bir''A?th''?' and satisfactory as to makeTr 
t^E on h. . f beginning of last year, we appeared 
he reduction nfl' tl™"^^ «g'f«tion in Parliament for 
ment nf /t^ the Navy and for a general retrench- 
tTe verL of .""""'' °^ ""^'■""'''' ^'^'^<^'- Thus, on 
ZneZ^dol.Z ^'■''''''' "■"'■' '"^'"^"^^ 'f'^ ""ly point of 
leace if r^' l^^Tr'"' r^ " '"''''' ^^''"^^ for 
S>nSence"ndZrt^r^Tn'th' '' ^.°"" '^ '^^ ^^^^ 
fully reported fr^R^-' , ^\^^'^ ^"d more was care- 
oelow the obviously disturbed surface of our 
16 
national life to the deep-lying currents which nio\e the 
souls of men and women in times of grave emergency-. 
If we reflect on the pre-war conditions, we cannot 
wonder at the difiiculties we have experienced, and we 
have reason to be proud and thankful that to such large 
numbers of our people of all classes was given the clear 
vision of a need so vital and a duty so imperative as to 
demand the free offer of life for the national cause. N'ever 
in the history of the world has so huge a vohinlary army 
been created in so short a lime- an army which already 
has given striking proofs of valour. Never have so 
many thousands of men and women devoted themselves 
to strenuous and unaccustomed work of all kinds for the 
service of our sailors and soldiers. Never have such liu'i-e 
funds been raised, not from the rich alone, to minister 
to the wounded and the bereaved, or to provide for the 
wants of the forces abroad and at home. 
Such are the lights in the picture of Britain in the 
time of her greatest peril. The shadows are not all de- 
hned by Mr. Jowett in his contribution to last week's 
Land and Water. " In all the great munition-pro- 
ducing centres," he writes, " there is unrest among the 
workers which continually threatens to break out into 
open rebellion in the form of strikes or other expressions 
of protest not less detrimental to the work in hand." But 
the unrest "is not confined to munition workers, and 
has been manifested in other quarters with not less in- 
jury to the Commonwealth in its dire need. Manual 
workers have enlisted in large numbers, and have fought 
and died gallantly in defence of the liberties of l-urope 
and their own ; but too many of their comrades at home 
whose efforts are as necessary for the national salvation 
and to save the lives of those who are cheerfully facing 
death m Flanders and the Gallipoli Peninsula have 
taken up the attitude wliich Mr. Jowett frankly pro- 
claims. . r " 
;= ./'ll'/^^* democracy passionately claims to worship 
Ln^ 1 5 ''^j;^'"^^'''^" ^i^-tory would sound the death 
desire ^fn'RK'f' '^'^'^'S^^^^^ labour professes to 
desire. In Republican France fabour troubles are un- 
known and the n.unitions workers are doing their 
rpZt ?0"ntry with the notable results we have 
recently seen. The striking French successes in Cham- 
