He is captivating with his frankness, confidingness, and unexampled _naivete_! Think of his stopping in 'Maud' every now and then--'There's a wonderful touch! That's very tender.

How beautiful that is!' Yes, and it _was_ wonderful, tender, beautiful, and he read exquisitely in a voice like an organ, rather music than speech.
War, war! It is terrible certainly.

But there are worse plagues, deeper griefs, dreader wounds than the physical.

What of the forty thousand wretched women in this city?
The silent writhing of them is to me more appalling than the roar of the cannons.

Then this war is _necessary_ on our sides.