In February 1879, the terrible news had come of the Isandlwana massacre, and this was followed in June by that of the Prince Imperial’s death.  My sister was, of course, deeply engrossed in the war tidings, as many of her friends went out to South Africa—­some to return no more.  In July she contributed “A Soldier’s Children” to Aunt Judy, and of all her child verses this must be reckoned the best, every line from first to last breathing how strong her sympathies still were for military men and things, though she was no longer living amongst them: 

Our home used to be in the dear old camp, with lots of bands, and
trumpets, and bugles, and dead-marches, and three times a day
there was a gun,
But now we live in View Villa, at the top of the village, and it
isn’t nearly such fun.

The humour and pathos in the lines are so closely mixed, it is very difficult to read them aloud without tears; but they have been recited—­as Julie was much pleased to know—­by the “old Father” of the “Queer Fellows” to whom the verses were dedicated, when he was on a troopship going abroad for active service, and they were received with warm approbation by his hearers.  He read them on other occasions, also in public, with equal success.

The crowning military work, however, which Julie did this year was “Jackanapes.”  This she wrote for the October number of Aunt Judy:  and here let me state that I believe if she had still been living at Aldershot, surrounded by the atmosphere of military sympathies and views of honour, the tale would never have been written.  It was not aimed, as some people supposed, personally at the man who was with the Prince Imperial when he met his death.  Julie would never have sat in judgment on him, even before he, too, joined the rank of those Dead, about whom no evil may be spoken.  It was hearing this same man’s conduct discussed by civilians from the standard of honour which is unhappily so different in civil and military circles, and more especially the discussion of it amongst “business men,” where the rule of “each man for himself” is invariable, which drove Julie into uttering the protest of “Jackanapes.”  I believe what she longed to show forth was how the life of an army—­as of any other body—­depends on whether the individuality of its members is dead; a paradox which may perhaps be hard to understand, save in the light of His teaching, Who said that the saving of a man’s life lay in his readiness to lose it.  The merging of selfish interests into a common cause is what makes it strong; and it is from Satan alone we get the axiom, “Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life.”  Of “Jackanapes” itself I need not speak.  It has made Julie’s name famous, and deservedly so, for it not only contains her highest teaching, but is her best piece of literary art.