the remembrance of what their
fathers had been, and the thought of what their children were to be.'"

"In spite of the blunders, disasters, and treachery that have been
rife in the land," said Lady Mabel, "more than one name has been added
to the list of its heroes--Palafox and the Maid of Zaragoza have won
immortal fame."

"And others less famous have deserved as well," said L'Isle. "Before
Augustina, this second Joan of Arc, had stepped out of her sex, to
display her heroism, she and others, behind the same shattered,
crumbling wall, had been showing an equal heroism within their sex's
sphere. Women of all ranks were zealous in the patriotic cause. They
formed themselves into companies, some to assist the wounded, some to
carry water, wine and food to those who defended the gates. The
Countess Burita raised a corps for this service. She was young,
delicate and beautiful. In the midst of the most tremendous fire of
shot and shells, she was seen coolly attending to those occupations,
which were now become her duty; nor through the whole of a two month's
siege did the imminent danger, to which she incessantly exposed
herself, produce the slightest apparent effect upon her; her step
never faltered, her eye never quailed. What a partial thing is fame,"
he continued, "and how poor a motive to duty! The names of Palafox and
Zaragoza are forever wedded. How few remember the old plebeian, _Tio
Jorge_, who counseled and spurred on both governor and populace to
their heroic defence!"

"When we remember all that the Spaniards have undergone in this war,"
said Lady Mabel, "we cannot but think that their atrocities in the new
world have been visited on them at home."

"How far we must answer for the sins of our forefathers," said L'Isle,
"is a nice question. We have some scriptural authority for asserting
that responsibility; and as there is no hereafter for nations, they
must be punished in this world, or not at all. I would be sorry to
bear my share of the penalty of all that immaculate England has
done. But I do not fear the fate of Spain for England:

'That royal throne of kings, that sceptred isle,
That earth of majesty, that seat of Mars,
That other Eden, demi-paradise;
That fortress, built by nature for herself,
Against infection, and the hand of war;
That happy breed of men, that little world;
That precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat