Without ostentation, or without making any display about it, she called the girls back, had a long private talk with them and furnished them with all of the supplies they needed, in quiet defiance of the advice which had been volunteered about the character of the girls. Of course her advice would be of a kind that they would never forget through their whole lifetime and would be their guide in the future. And as they left she calmly remarked that they were the kind of girls that probably needed her help more than any others in the place. LXVI Clara Barton—loved and honored as perhaps no other woman of her day. Tacoma (Wash.) _Ledger_. Switzerland is an _armed_ neutrality in which one has faith. CLARA BARTON. The Red Cross was chosen out of compliment to the Swiss Republic; the Swiss colors being a white cross on a red ground. The badge chosen were those colors reversed. CLARA BARTON. Romance is the poetry of literature. MADAME NECKER. Romance is always young. WHITTIER. Romance—the parent of golden dreams. BYRON. The Red Cross seems to have become the milder romance of war. CLARA BARTON. Love took up the glass of time. TENNYSON. Love will find out the way. ALFRED NOYES. Love took up the harp of life. LOCKSLEY HALL. Love conquers all things. VIRGIL. All mankind loves a lover. EMERSON. True love is better than glory. THACKERAY. Love is the beginning of everything. F. W. BOREHAM. None but the brave and beautiful can love. BAILEY. Love rules the camp, the court, the grove. _Lay of the Last Minstrel._ A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable. SHAKESPEARE. Hail wedded love, Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets. MILTON. Love’s history, as Life’s, is ended not by marriage. BAYARD TAYLOR. Love is greater than war, truer than steel, stronger than fear or danger of death. CLARA BARTON. A ROMANCE OF TWO CONTINENTS The battle had been fought, and on the bloody field lay the wounded. Among these was a Swiss boy who had left his native country, coming to America to fight in the cause of the Union. In her ministerings on the field, Clara Barton had heard of this lad, by name Jules Golay, but had not seen him. He was undergoing a surgical operation. As the knife was doing its work, in great pain he cried out, “Mon Dieu!” Clara Barton heard the cry and went to him. He could not speak in English, but in French Clara Barton while dressing his wound gave him words of sympathy. Daily, as tender as a mother, she cared for him until he recovered.