Incidents of devoted heroism, in which there is a swift counterchange between the rôle of soldier and that of priest, are almost innumerable: certainly no selection can convey a just notion of their abundance. Let me quote the words of a writer in the Journal de Genève, the chief organ of Swiss Protestantism—
"Observe that there is not a list of those who have fallen on the field of honour or who are cited in the Order of the Day of the Army in which you will not find priests. Such a one carried the flag into action; another, recommended for the Legion of Honour, was killed that very day; a third, seeing his company waver—he was a lieutenant—leaped to their head shouting, 'I am a priest. I do not fear death! Forward! He recovered the position, but fell riddled with bullets.
"Or we read such stories as this: After the battle, amongst the wounded and agonising, a soldier not so badly wounded as the rest dragged himself to an erect position and cried out to the dying: 'I am a priest. Receive absolution!' And he blessed them with his mutilated hand."
Take again the testimony of M. Frédéric Masson, a great writer, but no Catholic—
"What Frenchmen were the first to march? Who gave the example, who went to death instantly and without a murmur, who merited the epaulettes and the crosses? The priests.
"There they are with their knapsacks on their
