e the Call to
Sacrifice. "He that saveth his life shall lose it; and he that loseth
his life for My sake shall find it." The instinct to save life was
fundamental and universal. There were times when man must resist that
instinct and choose to surrender life. Such was the present time. Dear
as life was, there were things infinitely more precious to mankind, and
these things were in peril. For the preserving of these things to the
world our Empire had resolved upon war, and throughout the Empire the
call had sounded forth for men willing to sacrifice their lives. To this
call Canada would make response, and only thus could Canada save
her life. For faith, for righteousness, for humanity, our Empire had
accepted war. And now, as ever, the pathway to immortality for men and
for nations was the pathway of sacrifice.

In St. Mary's the priest, an Irishman of warm heart and of fiery
fighting spirit, summoned the faithful to faith and duty. To faith in
the God of their fathers who through his church had ever led his people
along the stern pathway of duty. The duty of the hour was that of united
and whole-hearted devotion to the cause of Freedom, for which Great
Britain had girded on her sword. The heart of the Empire had been
thrilled by the noble words of the leader of the Irish Party in the
House of Commons at Home, in which he pledged the Irish people to the
cause of the world's Freedom. In this great struggle all loyal Sons of
Canada of all races and creeds would be found united in the defence of
this sacred cause.

The newspaper press published full reports of many of the sermons
preached. These sermons all struck the same note--repentance, sacrifice,
service. On Monday morning men walked with surer tread because the light
was falling clearer upon the path they must take.

In the evening, when Jane and her friend, Ethel Murray, were on their
way downtown, they heard the beat of a drum. Was it fancy, or was there
in that beat something they had never heard in a drum beat before,
something more insistent, more compelling? They hurried to Portage
Avenue and there saw Winnipeg's famous historic regiment, the Ninetieth
Rifles, march with quick, brisk step to the drum beat of their bugle
band.

"Look," cried Ethel, "there's Pat Scallons, and Ted Tuttle, and Fred
Sharp, too. I did not know that he belonged to the Ninetieth." And as
they passed, rank on rank, Ethel continued to name the friends whom she
recognised.

But Ja