Canada -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Canada -- Fiction
“Go on? I cannot stop. Never have I come up against anything like
what is going on over there in Canada. Not in one spot, either, but
everywhere; not in one home, but in every home; not in one class, but in
every class. In Calgary during the recruiting I saw a mob of men in from
the ranches, from the C. P. R. shops, from the mines, from the offices,
fighting mad to get their names down. My God! I had to go away or I
would have had mine in too. The women, too, are all the same. No man is
getting under his wife's skirts. You know old Mrs. Ross, Larry, an old
Scotch woman up there with four sons. Well, her eldest son could not
wait for the Canadian contingent, but went off with Jack Romayne and
joined the Black Watch. He was in that Le Cateau fight. Oh, why don't
these stupid British tell the people something about that great fighting
retreat from Mons to the Marne? Well, at Le Cateau poor Hec Ross in
a glorious charge got his. His Colonel wrote the old lady about it. I
never saw such a letter; there never was one like it. I motored Mrs.
Gwynne, your mother, Larry, over to see her. Say, men, to see those two
women and to hear them! There were no tears, but a kind of exaltation.
Your mother, Larry, is as bad, as good, I mean, as any of them now. I
heard that old Scotch woman say to your mother in that Scotch voice of
hers, 'Misthress Gwynne, I dinna grudge my boy. I wouldna hae him back.'
Her youngest son is off with the Canadians. As she said good-bye to us
I heard her say to your mother, 'I hae gi'en twa sons, Misthress
Gwynne, an' if they're wanted, there's twa mair.' My God! I found myself
blubbering like a child. It sounds all mad and furious, but believe me,
there is not much noise, no hurrahing. They know they are up against a
deadly serious business, and that is getting clearer every minute. Did
you see that the Government had offered one hundred and fifty thousand
men now, and more if wanted? And all classes are the same. That little
Welch preacher at Wolf Willow--Rhye, his name is, isn't it? By George,
you should hear him flaming in the pulpit. He's the limit. There won't
be a man in that parish will dare hold back. He will just have to go to
war or quit the church. And it is the same all over. The churches are
a mighty force in Canada, you know, even a political force. I have been
going to church every Sunday, Father, this last year. Believe me, God is
some real Person to those people, and I want to tell you He has become
real to me too.” As Dean said this he glanced half defiantly at his
father as if expecting a challenge.
But his father only cleared his throat and said, “All right, my boy. We
won't do anything but gladly agree with you there. And God may come to
be more real to us all before we are through with this thing. Go on.”
“Let's see, what was I talking about?”
“Churches.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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