itionary force. If France were attacked, we should have to help
her on land as well as at sea. And we have sent armies to the
continent before."

"Yes," the other would reply. "We have an expeditionary force. We can
send more than a hundred thousand men across the channel at short
notice--the shortest. And we can train more men here, at home, in
case of need. The fleet makes that possible."

Aye, the fleet made that possible. The world may well thank God for
the British fleet. I do not know, and I do not like to think, what
might have come about save for the British fleet. But I do know what
came to that expeditionary force that we sent across the channel
quickly, to the help of our sore stricken ally, France. How many of
that old British army still survive?

They gave themselves utterly. They were the pick and the flower of
our trained manhood. They should have trained the millions who were
to rise at Kitchener's call. But they could not be held back. They
are gone. Others have risen up to take their places--ten for one--a
hundred for one! But had they been ready at the start! The bonnie
laddies who would be living now, instead of lying in an unmarked
grave in France or Flanders! The women whose eyes would never have
been reddened by their weeping as they mourned a son or a brother or
a husband!

So I was thinking as I set out to talk to my American friends and beg
them to prepare--prepare! I did not want to see this country share
the experience of Britain. If she needs must be drawn into the war--
and so I believed, profoundly, from the time when I first learned the
true measure of the Hun--I hoped that she might be ready when she
drew her mighty sword.

They thought I was mad, at first, many of those to whom I talked.
They were so far away from the war. And already the propaganda of the
Germans was at work. Aye, they thought I was raving when I told them
I'd stake my word on it. America would never be able to stay out
until the end. They listened to me. They were willing to do that. But
they listened, doubtingly. I think I convinced few of ought save that
I believed myself what I was saying.

I could tell them, do you ken, that I'd thought, at first, as they
did! Why, over yon, in Australia, when I'd first heard that the
Germans were attacking France, I was sorry, for France is a bonnie
land. But the idea that Britain might go in I, even then, had laughed
at. And then Britain _had_ gone in! My own boy had gon