oneliness and heartache. We've all been forced
into a heroism of which we did not think ourselves capable. We've been
carried up to the Calvary of the world where it is expedient that a few
men should suffer that all the generations to come may be better.

I understand in a dim way all that you suffer--the sudden divorce of all
that we had hoped for from the present--the ceaseless questionings as to
what lies ahead. Your end of the business is the worse. For me, I can go
forward steadily because of the greatness of the glory. I never thought
to have the chance to suffer in my body for other men. The insufficiency
of merely setting nobilities down on paper is finished. How unreal I
seem to myself! Can it be true that I am here and you are in the still
aloofness of the Rockies? I think the multitude of my changes has
blunted my perceptions. I trudge along like a traveller between high
hedgerows; my heart is blinkered so that I am scarcely aware of
landscapes. My thoughts are always with you--I make calculations for the
differences of time that I may follow more accurately your doings. I'd
love to come down to the study summer-house and watch the blueness of
the lake with you--I love those scenes and memories more than any in the
world.

Good-bye for the present. Be brave.

Yours,
Con.

V

SHORNCLIFF, August 19th, 1916.

MY DEARS:

It's not quite three weeks to-day since I came to England, and it seems
ages. The first week was spent on leave, the second I passed my exams in
gun drill and gun-laying, and this week I have finished my riding. Next
Monday I start on my gunnery.

Do you remember Captain S. at the Camp? I had his young brother to
dinner with me last night-he's just back from France minus an eye. He
lasted three and a half weeks, and was buried four feet deep by a shell.
He's a jolly boy, as cheerful as you could want and is very good
company. He gave me a vivid description. He had a great boy-friend. At
the start of the war they both joined, S. in the Artillery, his friend
in the Mounted Rifles. At parting they exchanged identification tokens.
S.'s bore his initials and the one word "Violets"--which meant that they
were his favourite flower and he would like to have some scattered over
him when he was buried. His friend wore his initials and the words "No
flowers by request." It was S.'s first week out--they were advancing,
having dr