MARS AS MATCHMAKER.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 30, Issue 22, 19 March 1918, Page 2

MARS AS MATCHMAKER.

If the full story of the war could be written, no volume of it all would compare in fascination with that which would record the act'vities of Cupid. Prom cover to cover it would be crowded with stories as strange and romantic as any you will find in the whole realm of fiction, for never in all his long history has he wrought such havoc with the hearts of men and maids, or shot his arrows w’ith such deadly and dramatic effect. Where, for example, will you find in fiction a story more charming and romantic than that of which Miss Nina George, a pretty Scotch lassie, was the heroine a few months ago ? When the war-trumpet first called our brave boys to war, Miss Nina was barely amancipated from the schoolroom ; but already she was the acknowledged belle of her native town, Invergorden, on the shores of the Cromarty Firth, whose glorious, redgold hair, blue eyes, exquisite complexion and dainty little figure, instinct with grace in every movement, set many a heart fluttering. But she was as unconscious of her beauty as she was indifferent “to her conquests. She was far too happily busy with her work for the comforts of our gallant lads at the front to allow any such thoughts to disturb her industry. Then one day there came to the neighbouring training camp a handsome young officer, who lost his heart at first sight of Nina’s young charms. Introduction was followed by frequent meetings, each of which added fuel to the flame of a love which gradually won its reward ; and one day Invergordon heard with amazement, and also with pride, that ( its loveliest daughter had been secretly wedded to Viscount Dfflngton, heir to the fourth Earl of Graven, lord of 10,000 acres. “On her return to her father’s house,” says one of her friends, “Viscountess Uffington found herself a town celebrity. Her appearance in church or in the street is the occasion for respectful glances and interested whispers ; for has she not by her marriage in London with Viscount Uffington made Invergordon the scene of the most romantic of war-court-ships 7" A V.A.D. ROMANCE.

But no less romantic is the story of how Sergeant Greer,, of the North Somerset Yeomanry, woed and won a peer’s niece for bride, rrtfe gallant sergeant had come scathless through some of the fiercest fighting in Prance a-nd Flanders, when at last a severe wound sent him home to the V.A.D. Hospital at Oakley Manor, Shrewsbury ; and there, though he little dream? it, his valour was to have its reward. The sister second in command of the hospital was Miss Jackson, daughter of a wealthy Shropshire family, and niece to Lord Hatherton, of Teddesly Park. Staffordshire, a lady who has won golden opinions by her devotion to our wounded soldiers. From the day of his arrival Miss Jackson took a keen interest in the sergeant, whose pluck and patience and good temper appealed strongly to her. She nursed him back to health after a severe . operation with infinite care and skill; and >in the process a mutual attachment sprang up between nurse and patient, which, within a few months, had its crowning scene, at the altar. A touching and dramatic story is told of a Swiss volunteer, who fought bravely in the French ranks from the beginning of hostilities until his wounds compelled him to return to his home at Basle. Early in the war this Swiss, whose name is Haberthur, lost an arm during an artillery bombardment, but when he recovered he insisted on returning to his regiment, and continued to fight until a bullet robbed him of sight.

A patriotic Alsatian girl, MTle. Felix, heard the tragic story and decided to visit the crippled hero in hi& home, when his modest and uncomplaining behavior so touched her heart that with the greatest delicacy and earnestness she asked him to allow her to share his life. “But,” he'protested, “I am blind and maimed and helpless—a perfect wreck of a man!” “For that reason,” was her answer, “you will not refuse my request. I want you to see the world through my eyes, to lean on my strength. I cannot fight, but I can at least, if you will allow me, bring a ifEtle brightness into the life of one who has fought so bravely at such a price.”

Unable to resist such pleading, the stricken hero gratefully accepted the offer ; and when, a few weeks later, he was led from the altar by his wife, he said, “I lost an arm and my eyes. I won the Legion of Honour and a charming wife. The God of wars has indeed been good tome.” When Emile Prinvault, a strapping sergeant in the sth French infantry, was struck by an explosive bullet which shattered his right arm, his first act, after his arm had been amputated, was to have a letter sent to his fiancee’s mother,' telling her that, now he had only one arm, it would be very difficult for him to make a living in future, and that he considered it his duty to release her daughter from her promise. The mother read the letter to her daughter, a®d said, “What shall I tell him ? Reflect well before you answer.” “I hove no need to reflect,” replied the brave girl, “Tell him I want to marry him more than ever.” “Kiss me,” said her mother, “you have done well to say so. If you had refused I would have disowned you/’ The war has been responsible for many dramatic meetings, but of few more strange and romantic than that of which a hospital at Staples was the scene. A Canadian soldier, terribly wounded in the Ypres .salient, had been taken to the hospital in apparently a dying condition. For_dftS® he

lay unconscious on tne nmic oi acarn and when at last he recovered consciousness he saw as in a dream a sweet face stooping over him. For a few moments he gazed at doubt struggling with gladness in his eyes, until at last, when the mist of memory cleared, he uttered an exclamation of joy, raised his arms weakly, and whispered “Eleanor—it is you!” The same instant the face stooped, and he felt warm kisses on his lips and tears dropping on his face. The last time the soldier and the nurse had met was in* Manitoba two years earlier. A lover’s quarrel, the result of jealousy, had parted them, as they thought, for ever. But Providence, which works in wondrous ways, had brought them together in a far land, and in the joy of their meeting the old love woke to a new life which a few months later was crowned at the altar.

ACCIDENT OR PATE ? St. Margaret's Church, Westminster, was recently the scene of a union little less romantic. The bridegroom was an Australian who had come to London after being seriously wounded .and disabled for further service at Gallipoli. Years eaflier he and the bride had been boy and girl sweethearts, until, at her father’s wish, she became engaged to a wealthy suitor, and the young lovers had drifted apart, seemingly for ever. The disabled warrior, however, had not been many hours in London when by accident—or was it Pate—he met her in the Strand, and to his surprise and joy learned that her engagement had long been cancelled, that she still loved him—more than ever—and that she was very willing to share his life.

In this volume of the war’s loveromances, if ever it is written, we shall read the full details of a story told by Lady - Randolph Churchill of an aviator friend who flew over from Dunkirk, made an excursion to ■ the alter with the lady of his heart, and within forty-eight hours was flying back again over the Channel to play havoc with the Tauhes, and we shall also read of that romantic union at sea between an English doctor and, a nurse.

It was at Salonika that Dr. Percy Wallace and Miss Dora Woodcock plighted their troth and decided to make one as speedily as possible. She, however, was just about to start to Montenegro, and he for Serbia, and they discovered, to their dismay, that three weeks’ residence and notice were necessary for a wedding at Salonika. But for such lovers obstacles only exist to be overcome, and they quickly discovered a way out of their dilemma. Learning that they could be legally wedded on a British ship outside the three-mile limit, they promptly chartered a vessel, took a clergyman with them, and when they had .-eft the shore more than the regulation three miles behind them, the ceremony was performed, and they returned jubilantly to Salonika, man and wife.

AN ENTERPRISING WARRIOR

When the soldier turns Ms thoughts to matrimony ue is the last man to allow the gross of delay to grow under his impatient feet, and. he will undertake to find a life partner, woo, win, and wed her, and be back again in the fighting line a married man within three or four days of starting on his quest. One such enterprising warrior, a friend of the writer, landed at Folkestone on a Thursday. The same evening he met, proposed t®, and was accepted by a very charming girl at a dance at the hotel. On Friday he travelled to London and procured the marriage licence. The next morning he was married and off for a twenty-four hours’ honeymoon, and on Sunday he was hack in the trenches.

But probably the most remarkable,, and also the saddest, of these warromances is the following. In September, 1913, a girl of seventeen, known to the writer, -became the wife of a young officer of the Regular Army, who left for the front a few days later. In December news came to her that her husband had beefa killed. For a-year she was inconsolable. Then, in the fallowing December, she consented to give her hand to a captain in a Yorkshire regiment, whose sympathy had done much to heal the wound.

But again ill-luck pursued her, for within a .Jew weeks of her weddingday she was left a widow for i the second time. She was persuaded to make a third venture, and again dia; aster pursued her, for within four weeks of bidding him good bye on his return to France her third husband was reported missing, and as no further news of him has come, he is probably dead, leaving her a widow for the third time while still in her teens. Thus in war dees tragedy often shadow romance.—" Weekly Telegraph.”