years of the life of Queen Victoria. The one
voice raised in protest against the annexation of 1877 in the British
House of Commons was that of Mr. Leonard (now Lord) Courtney. Not
afraid to stand alone, though all the world were against him, the war
at the close of the century found Leonard Courtney again taking his
stand against the majority of his countrymen, and this time it cost him
his Parliamentary seat. I have often felt proud that the leadership of
proportional representation in England should have fallen into the
hands of so morally courageous a man as Leonard Courtney has invariably
proved himself to be.

We are apt to pride ourselves on the advance we have made in our
civilization; but our self-glorification received a rude shock at the
feelings of intolerance and race hatred that the war brought forth.
Freedom of speech became the monopoly of those who supported the war,
and the person who dared to express an opinion which differed from that
of the majority needed a great deal more than the ordinary allowance of
moral courage. Unfortunately the intolerance so characteristic of that
period is a feature, to a greater or lesser extent, of every
Parliamentary election in the Commonwealth. The clause in the Federal
Electoral Act which makes disturbance of a political meeting a penal
offence is a curious reflection on a so-called democratic community.
But, though its justification can scarcely be denied even by the
partisans of the noisier elements in a political crowd, its existence
must be deplored by every right-minded and truehearted citizen. In Miss
Rose Scott I found a sympathizer on this question of the war; and one
of the best speeches I ever heard her make was on Peace and
Arbitration. "Mafeking Day" was celebrated while we were in Sydney, and
I remember how we three--Miss Scott, Mrs. Young, and I--remained
indoors the whole day, at the charming home of our hostess, on Point
Piper road. The black band of death and desolation was too apparent for
us to feel that we could face the almost ribald excesses of that day. I
felt the war far less keenly than did my two friends; but it was bad
even for me. No one called, and the only companions of our chosen
solitude were the books we all loved so much, and

The secret sympathy,
The silver link, the silken tie,
Which heart to heart and mind to mind,
In body and in soul can bind.

I had hoped that the Women's National Council, a branch of which