SCENES IN THE GREAT WAR
THE NEW SCARLET LETTER
It is brave in a man to face death on the battlefield,
instantaneous death, or, what is worse,
death after long suffering, after lying between
trenches, perhaps, on the "no-man's ground"
which neither friend nor foe can reach, grasping
the earth in agony, seeing the dark night coming
on, and then dying in the cold shiver of the dawn.
Yes, it is brave in a man to face death like that.
But perhaps it is even braver in a woman to face
life, with three or four fatherless children to
provide for, on nothing but the charity of the
State. Then battle is in the blood of man, and
the heroic part falls to him by right, but it is
not in the blood of woman, who shrinks from it
and loathes it, and yet such is her nature, the
fine and subtle mystery of it, that she flies to the
scene of suffering with a bravery which far out-strips that of the man-at-arms.
On the breasts that have borne tens of thousands of the sons who have fallen in this war the Red Cross is now enshrined. It is the new scarlet letter—the badge not of shame, but glory. And "through the rolling of the drums" and the thundering of the guns a voice comes to us in this year of service and sacrifice whose message no one can mistake. Woman, who faces death every time she brings a man-child into the world, must henceforth know what is to be done with
