ke the
duty which makes martyrs disobey emperors. It must have been just the
primitive passion for a fight. But if it _was_ that, to indulge it was
a bad, weak and vicious thing to do. Yet it clearly wasn't a selfish
thing to do: on the contrary, it was heroic. He deliberately
sacrificed his rank, pay, and prospects and exposed himself to great
danger. Still, as far as I can see, he only did it because his passion
for fighting was stronger than every other consideration, and
therefore he seems to me to be morally in the same class as the man
who runs away with his neighbour's wife, or any other victim of strong
(and largely noble) passions. And I believe that the people who say
they are longing to be at the front can be divided into three classes
(1) those who merely say so because it is the right thing to say, and
have never thought or wished about it on their own. (2) Those who
deliberately desire to drink the bitterest cup that they can find in
these times of trouble. These men _are_ heroes, and are the men who in
peace choose a mission to lepers. (3) The savages, who want to indulge
their primitive passions. Perhaps one ought to add as the largest
class (4) those who don't imagine what it is like, who think it will
be exciting, seeing life, an experience, and so on, and don't think of
its reality or meaning at all."

* * * * *

AMARA.
_Thursday, September 2nd, 1915._

TO HIS MOTHER.

I only had time to scrawl a short note last night before the mail
went. But I wrote to Papa the day before we left Basra.

Our embarkation was much more sensibly managed this time, a Captain
Forrest of the Oxfords being O.C. troops, and having some sense,
though the brass hats again fixed 10 a.m. as the hour. However he got
all our kits on the barge at 7 and then let the men rest on the big
ship till the time came. Moreover the barge was covered. We embarked
on it at 9.30 and were towed along to the river steamer "Malamir," to
which we transferred our stuff without difficulty as its lower deck
was nearly level with the barge. The only floater was that my new
bearer (who is, I fear, an idiot) succeeded in dropping my heavy kit
bag into the river, where it vanished like a stone. Fortunately that
kind of thing doesn't worry me much; but while I was looking for an
Arab diver to fish for it it suddenly re-appeared the other side of
the boat, and was retrieved.

These river boats are flat-bottomed and