"I haf seen the flag--I haf been so surprised--I haf had to come in."
I opened the door wide, and said: "Do," and he did, and almost with
tears in his eyes--he was very young, and blonde--he explained that
he was a Canadian.
"But," I said, "you are a French Canadian?"
"Breton," he replied, "but I haf live in Canada since sixteen." Then he
told me that his sister had gone to New Brunswick to teach French
seven years ago, and that he had followed, that, when he was old
enough, he had taken out his naturalization papers, and become a
British subject in order to take up government land; that he had a
wheat farm in Northern Canada--one hundred and sixty acres, all
under cultivation; that he was twenty when the war broke out, and
that he had enlisted at once; that he had been wounded on the
Somme, and came out of the hospital just in season to go through
the hard days at Verdun.
As we talked, part of his accent wore away. Before the interview was
over he was speaking English really fluently. You see he had been
tongue-tied at his own temerity at first. When he was at ease--though
he was very modest and scrupulously well-mannered--he talked well.
The incident was interesting to me because I had heard that the
French Canadians had not been quick to volunteer, and I could not
resist asking him how it happened that he, a British subject, was in
the French army.
He reddened, stammered a bit, and finally said: "After all I am French
at heart. Had England fought any other nation but France in a war in
which France was not concerned it would have been different, but
since England and France are fighting together what difference can it
make if my heart turned to the land where I was born?"
Isn't the naturalization question delicate?
I could not help asking myself how England looked at the matter. I
don't know. She has winked at a lot of things, and a great many more
have happened of late about which no one has ever thought. There
are any number of officers in the English army today, enrolled as
Englishmen, who are American citizens, and who either had no idea
of abandoning their country, or were in too much of a hurry to wait for
formalities. I am afraid all this matter will take on another color after
"this cruel war is over."
This boy looked prosperous, and in no need of anything but kind
words in English. He did not even need cigarettes. But I saw him turn
his eyes frequently towards the library, and it occurred to me that he
might want something to read. I asked him if he did, and you should
have seen his eyes shine,--and he wanted English at that, and
beamed all over his face at a heap of illustrated magazines. So I was
able to send him away happy.
The result was, early the next morning two more of them arrived--a
tall six-footer, and a smaller chap. It was Sunday morning, and they
had real, smiling Sunday faces on. The smaller one addressed me in
very good English, and told me that the sergeant had said that there
was an American lady who was willing to lend the soldiers books. So I
let them loose in the library, and they bubbled, one in English, and the
other in French, while they revelled in the books.
Of course I am always curious about the civil lives of these lads, and
it is the privilege of my age to put such questions to them. The one
who spoke English told me that his home was in London, that he was
the head clerk in the correspondence department of an importing
house. I asked him how old he was, and he told me twenty-two; that
he was in France doing his military service when the war broke out;
that he had been very successful in England, and that his employer
had opposed his returning to France, and begged him to take out
naturalization papers. He said he could not make up his mind to jump
his military service, and had promised his employer to return when his
time was up,--then the war came.