We steamed into a bay of Malta on a Sunday morning. This gave us another memory of Paul, and we had to speak of his shipwreck and landing there.
Arriving in La Belle France, we realize that it is a land of chivalry and romance. We move under the banner of Joan of Arc, and fight on old battle-fields. Every town has its storied past; but this is no war of chivalry, and our battalions do not flaunt the banners of heraldry. The reality is cold mud, dripping dug-outs, and hard fighting night and day; and yet over all are the crossed flags of the two most romantic and adventurous races in the world—the British and the French.
The achievements both of Napoleon and Wellington call us, the one to the path of glory and the other to the path of duty; and a second greater Waterloo awaits us as victors in the struggle for the freedom of Europe.
At this time we may still hear the ringing cry of Henry V at Harfleur in our English ears:
'Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;