"
It is the problem of population that is being worked out now, not
the mere spontaneous and ephemeral struggle of a few dominating
personalities.
It is well-nigh ludicrous to think that Sally Bishop--quiet,
virtuous, chaste Sally Bishop, the very opposite of a revolutionary--is
one in the ranks of a great army who are marching, they scarcely know
whither, to a command they have scarcely heard, strained to a mighty
endurance in a cause they scarcely understand. She seems too young to
be of service, too frail to bear the hardships of the way. How can she
stand out against the forced marches, the weary, sleepless camping at
night?
There are going to be many in this great campaign who will drop
exhausted from the ranks--many who, under cover of night, when the
sentinel is drowsy at his post, will slip out into the darkness, weary
of the fatigue, regardless of the consequences--a deserter from the
cause that is so ill-understood. There are going to be many who,
through a passing village where all is peace and contentment, will
hear the tempting whisper of mutiny. What is the good of it all--to
what does it lead, this endless forced march towards a vague
encounter with the enemy who are never to be seen? If only they might
pitch tents there and then--there and then dig trenches, make
positions, occupy heights--put the rifle to the shoulder and
fire--into hell if need be.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41