On August 6, 1919, when Britain's thanks to her land and sea forces were moved in both houses of Parliament, the gentleman who moved them in the House of Lords said something which, as it seems to me, adds nothing to the tribute he had already paid so eloquently.
He had spoken of the greater incentive to courage which the French and Belgians had, because their homes and soil were invaded, while England's soldiers had suffered no invasion of their island.

They had not the stimulus of the knowledge that the frontier of their country had been violated, their homes broken up, their families enslaved, or worse.

And then he added: 'I have sometimes wondered in my own mind, though I have hardly dared confess the sentiment, whether the gallant troops of our Allies would have fought with equal spirit and so long a time as they did, had they been engaged in the Highlands of Scotland or on the marches of the Welsh border.' Why express that wonder?
Is there not here an instance of that needless overlooking of the feelings of others, by which, in times past, you have chilled those others?
Look out for that." And should an American say to me: "I have the will to friendship.

What can I personally do ?" I should say: "Play fair! Look over our history from that Treaty of Paris in 1783, down through the Louisiana Purchase, the Monroe Doctrine, and Manila Bay; look at the facts.

You will see that no matter how acrimoniously England has quarreled with us, these were always family scraps, in which she held out for her own interests just as we did for ours.