IN WAR-TIME.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15748, 24 October 1914, Page 1 (Supplement)

IN WAR-TIME.

BY SIRS. LEO SIXERS.

is the golden sunshine of an autumn afternoon, walking across Regent's Park, it is difficult to imagine England at war. : Everything is so so ordered, so beautiful. . . . -file lake, with its sportive water-fowl; the happy children Playing: the women reading or sewing; tue old people in bath-chairs; the sigh e.l the wind in the trees -mingling with the thrush's note ; the church spires pointing tar into mellowing skies. . . fill from out the belt of trees 'there emerges a long, steady, snake-like column ot khaki It is but part of that armv that Lord Kitchener has asked for—and gotten -and still is getting. From shop and office, from factory and field thev come, Jhe youth and fibre of Britain'. thousands ot well-knit, fresh-faced young men training to light-arid, if need be, die-tor a just cause, for Honour and Humanity. All London seems a military camp—a huge garrison citv. Tho martial spirit i s i„ the" air. Few able-bodied young men are seen in the streets-only women, children, and elderly or old men. Gone are the nuts from Bond Street and Piccadilly, i'or it is as true of them to-day and of our scions of nobility as it was in 1816, when Wellington said: 'The dandies fought well at Waterloo." Every man of youth and courage (sft •Sin and upwards in height, of at least o4m chest measurement, married or single, with or without good teeth) and ovcrvthing on wheels with motive energy has gone to the war. Even the motor-'buses! Yes, those good old eviathans—fleets of them—marked Cricklcwood, Upper Tooting. .Shepherd's Hush, etc.—are now over in Belgium, making a Continental detour, carrying soldiers, refugees, accoutrements, supplies, and anything needed. I Which of course means that we have' fewer motor omnibuses in London. And gladly do we sacrifico them. It is part of our patriotism now to stand patient]v waiting at street corners for a stray and over-worked 'bus to come along. No one murmurs. The comfort and security of Londoners is in such touching contrast to the distress and tragedv of our French and Belgian neighbours that these little, irregularities are borne cheerfully—if noted at all. Nor do we grumble at the sow delivery of our purchases from the shops; for the War Office has commandeered hundreds of motor-vans, lorries ! carts, and horses. ' I That we are arming vigorously and that the young manhood of the country is re- I sponding splendidly is evidenced by the transformation of small country 'towns' into big military camps. St. Albans, in j Herts, „ one of the most interesting. this quaint old town (ancient Verulam, I that once echoed to the tramp of Cresar's legions) is alive with some ,50,000 territorials. A healthier, cheerier, fitter set of men you could not look upon: smart in appearance, tanned of lace, and cour- I teous in bearing. We are that proud of i tuem!

1 jey are billeted -in houses great and small. Practically every cottage bears the outward and visible sign—a chalked cross on the front wall of the place-giving a so the name of the officer or the number of men who are billeted within. Surely nothing puts the English householder's patriotism to a more practical test than billeting 1 hough it is a legal obligation it is said that the people have answered to it, not only with readiness and some self-sacrifice, but with a cheerful comradeship which illustrates again and again the remarkable spirit with which the nation is meeting its responsibilities. Lite all matters human, it has its humorous instances. The story is told of a captain of the -th battalion, stationed for training near —- (every place is dash now under the fog of military mvsterv). tie was endeavouring to billet His men j in the private houses of the district, and had met with unfailing help and hospitality Seeing a charming home, engardened and shaded with fine old trees he entered and waited in the drawing-room A neat old lady receive him primlv, and briefly told him that she and her maiden sister lived here alone. "-May 1 hope that you will find it convenient to put up a few of mv men of ?<ni ,'■'. Re S' raent -" astfed the," captain. Uli. she stammered, somewhat shocked, ' we really could not think of "But," pursued the captain; "so many of your friends and neighbours have done bo; and you have such a charming, commodious place." "No." she retorted, "we could not, really. ) "Do you not feel." continued the captain seriously, that you can do your share in the war that is taking thousands of your countrymen to the front. This is! woman s work—this is how women can help at home—by making the voung soldier comfortable and fit before he" roes forth to fight for you." g | ''It is very sad, I know." she replied. Perhaps we could take just one soldierbut lie must be a Wesleyan. Have vou any Wesleyans in your regiment':" ( " Madam," cried the captain eagerly ' all my men are Weslevans. y ou will take a dozen, will you not?" j London to-day is the new CVmopolis. ! Hither flock the sick, the poor, the broken, like to a metropolitan Lourdes And London shelters and heals them, fliey have come from pillaged homes from burnt and devastated farms, from the black ruins of towns and the graves of their loved ones—to London ; and" London holds out her arms and shelters and mothers them. She is in a tender mood ■ unremittingly tender and .generous to all these strangers within her gates. England, London, has ever been sanctuary for the oppressed. But never before in all her humane history has her hospitality been so spacious, So bountiful so unrestricted. Relief depots, emergency corps, employment bureaux, associations, and funds rolling up their donations into thousands uf'iKiuntls, pour Help and protection. To the broken Belgians does her heart melt most generously, and her hands give, greatest service. Came, thev with 3 or without money, London finds "homes and assistance for them all. Men. women, and children, thousands of them, who have fled horror-stricken from that hacking drive of the Hermans through Belgium and down into France, across to England, to London's cradle of kindliness. ° Man's greatest inhumanity to man since civilisation dawned has brought in gentle compensation man's greatest humanity— and that Humanity pours out its gold" of money and of service from the heart of our Empire. The sewing and knitting epidemic still rages. It has attacked all classes. Wonderful are the uses of enthusiasm. A pyjama panic has seized charming girls "who but an hour ago blushed at the thought of their own uselessness." Pardon the paraphrase It was irresistible. Sitting in luxurious motors, prettv women stitch shirts of heroic hue.' or knit stockings of great length and questionable fitness. 'I he Bed Cross Society publishes notices of what garments are required: also standardise their size and style. But at the beginning many women knitted stocking with heels—then found that! heelless ones to lit any sized foot were wanted. Really, one can readily under-1 stand this ; for in war Tom in v Atkins does not take to his heels. At all theatres and meetings the orchestras play the National Anthems of the allies. _ It is fine concentrated patriotism, for the vast audiences rise to a man, standing in mute reverence to hear the Belgian "La Bra ban conn e." the Servian " God in His Goodness.'' the Rusian ] "Lord God Protect the Czar, the Japanese Anthem (I boggle at its name), the I French " La Marseillaise." and our own splendid "Rule, Britannia." It is something to be thankful for, to be in London—this great heart of our Empire—in war time. No one who lives through it all can emerge quite the same. It is as if what is Best and Deepest, what is Big and Fine I and Sdlie^.tWeth^iin^aji4.^r.o^g L ti» )