And then, again, there are certain psychological morals to
be drawn from the whole matter of the tale and its sequel of rumours
and discussions that are not, I think, devoid of consequence; and so
to begin at the beginning.
This was in last August, to be more precise, on the last Sunday of
last August. There were terrible things to be read on that hot Sunday
morning between meat and mass. It was in _The Weekly Dispatch_ that I
saw the awful account of the retreat from Mons. I no longer recollect
the details; but I have not forgotten the impression that was then on
my mind, I seemed to see a furnace of torment and death and agony and
terror seven times heated, and in the midst of the burning was the
British Army. In the midst of the flame, consumed by it and yet
aureoled in it, scattered like ashes and yet triumphant, martyred and
for ever glorious. So I saw our men with a shining about them, so I
took these thoughts with me to church, and, I am sorry to say, was
making up a story in my head while the deacon was singing the Gospel.
This was not the tale of "The Bowmen".
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