lishman.
Why, then, should I care for the madness of this nation of
islanders?

"This I said, when I heard that you were to marry an Englishman.
Could I imagine that I, also, was to become a victim? Could I
suppose that my husband--a man sensible in most things--would also
become mad; that my boys would grow up like young savages, and
would offer themselves to go out to sleep without beds, to catch
colds, to have red noses and coughs, perhaps even--my faith--to be
killed by the balls of German pigs? My word of honor, I ask myself:

"'Am I living in France? Am I asleep? Am I dreaming? Am I, too,
mad?'

"I said to myself:

"'I shall go to my sister-in-law, and I will demand of her, is it
possible that these things are true?'"

"If you mean by all this, sister-in-law, is it true that I have
consented to my boys going out to fight for France, it is quite
true," Mrs. Barclay said, quietly.

Madame Duburg sat down upon a garden seat, raised her hands, and
nodded her head slowly and solemnly.

"She says it is true, she actually says that it is true."

"Why should they not go?" Mrs. Barclay continued, quietly. "They
are strong enough to carry arms, and why should they not go out to
defend their country? In a short time, it is likely that everyone
who can carry arms will have to go. I shall miss them sorely, it is
a terrible trial; but other women have to see their sons go out,
why should not I?"

"Because there is no occasion for it, at all," Madame Duburg said,
angrily; "because they are boys and not men, because their father
is English; and stupid men like my husband will say, if these young
English boys go, it will be a shame upon us for our own to remain
behind.

"What, I ask you, is the use of being well off? What is the use of
paying taxes for an army, if our boys must fight? It is absurd, it
is against reason, it is atrocious."

Madame Duburg's anger and remonstrance were, alike, lost upon Mrs.
Barclay; and she cut her visitor short.

"My dear sister-in-law, it is of no use arguing or talking. I
consider, rightly or wrongly, that the claims of our country stand
before our private convenience, or inconvenience. If I were a man,
I should certainly go out to fight; why should not my boys do so,
if they choose? At any rate, I have given my consent, and it is too
late to draw back, even if I wished to do so--which I say, frankly,
that I do not."

Madame Duburg took her departure, much offended and, late in