The Major [68]
and deep and pricked out with pale star points. About the world the night had thrown her mystic jewelled robes of white and blue, making a holy shrine, a very temple of peace for God and man. For some minutes they walked together in silence, after they had bidden good-night to the last of their friends.
"What a world it is, Mother!" said Larry, gazing about him at the beauty of the night.
"Yes, but alas, alas, that God's own children should spoil all this glory with hatred and strife! This very night in the unhappy Balkan States men are killing each other. It is too sad and too terrible to think of. Oh, if men would be content only to do justly by each other."
"Those people of the Balkan States are semi-barbarians," said Larry, "and therefore war between them is to be expected; but I cannot get myself to believe in the possibility of war between Christians, civilised nations to-day. But, Mother, for the first time in my life, listening to those two men, Romayne and Switzer, I had a feeling that war might be possible. Switzer seemed so eager for it, and so sure about it, didn't he? And Romayne, too, seemed ready to fight. But then I always remember that military men and military nations are for ever talking war."
"That is quite true, my dear," said his mother. "I too find it difficult to believe that war is possible in spite of what we have heard to-night. Our Friends at Home do not believe that war is imminent. They tell me that the feeling between Germany and Britain is steadily improving."
"And yet two years ago, Mother, in connection with the Agadir incident war might have happened any minute."
"That is true," replied his mother, "but every year of peace makes war less likely. The Friends are working and praying for a better understanding between these nations, and they are very confident that these peace delegations that are exchanging visits are doing a great deal for peace. Your Uncle Matthew, who has had a great deal to do with them, is very hopeful that a few years of peace will carry us past the danger point."
"Well, I hope so, Mother. I loathe the very thought of war," said Larry. "I think I am like you in this. I never did fight, you know; as a boy I always got out of it. Do you know, Mother, I think I would be afraid to fight."
"I hope so," replied his mother. "Fighting is no work for man, but for brute."
"But you would not be afraid, Mother. I know you would stand up to anything."
"Oh, no, no," cried his mother. "I could stand up to very little. After all, it is only God that makes strong to endure."
"But it is not quite the question of enduring, it is not the suffering, Mother. It is the killing. I don't believe I could kill a man, and yet in the Bible they were told to kill."
"But surely, Larry, we read our Bible somewhat differently these days. Surely we have advanced since the days of Abraham. We do not find our Lord and master commanding men to kill."
"But, Mother, in these present wars should not men defend their women and children from such outrages as we read about?"
"When it comes to the question of defending women and children it seems to me that the question is changed," said his mother. "As to that I can never quite make up my mind, but generally speaking we hold that it is the Cross, not the sword, that will save the world from oppression and break the tyrant's power."
"But after all, Mother," replied Larry, "it was not Smithfield that saved England's freedom, but Naseby."
"Perhaps both Naseby and Smithfield," said his mother. "I am not very wise in these things."
At the door of their house they came upon Nora sitting in the moonlight. "Did you meet Ernest and Mr. Romayne?" she inquired. "They've only gone five minutes or so. They walked down with us."
"No, we did not meet them."
"You must be tired after the wild excitement of the day, Mother," said Nora. "I think you had better go at once to bed. As for me, I am going for a swim."
"That's bully; I'm with you," said Larry.
In a few minutes they were dressed
"What a world it is, Mother!" said Larry, gazing about him at the beauty of the night.
"Yes, but alas, alas, that God's own children should spoil all this glory with hatred and strife! This very night in the unhappy Balkan States men are killing each other. It is too sad and too terrible to think of. Oh, if men would be content only to do justly by each other."
"Those people of the Balkan States are semi-barbarians," said Larry, "and therefore war between them is to be expected; but I cannot get myself to believe in the possibility of war between Christians, civilised nations to-day. But, Mother, for the first time in my life, listening to those two men, Romayne and Switzer, I had a feeling that war might be possible. Switzer seemed so eager for it, and so sure about it, didn't he? And Romayne, too, seemed ready to fight. But then I always remember that military men and military nations are for ever talking war."
"That is quite true, my dear," said his mother. "I too find it difficult to believe that war is possible in spite of what we have heard to-night. Our Friends at Home do not believe that war is imminent. They tell me that the feeling between Germany and Britain is steadily improving."
"And yet two years ago, Mother, in connection with the Agadir incident war might have happened any minute."
"That is true," replied his mother, "but every year of peace makes war less likely. The Friends are working and praying for a better understanding between these nations, and they are very confident that these peace delegations that are exchanging visits are doing a great deal for peace. Your Uncle Matthew, who has had a great deal to do with them, is very hopeful that a few years of peace will carry us past the danger point."
"Well, I hope so, Mother. I loathe the very thought of war," said Larry. "I think I am like you in this. I never did fight, you know; as a boy I always got out of it. Do you know, Mother, I think I would be afraid to fight."
"I hope so," replied his mother. "Fighting is no work for man, but for brute."
"But you would not be afraid, Mother. I know you would stand up to anything."
"Oh, no, no," cried his mother. "I could stand up to very little. After all, it is only God that makes strong to endure."
"But it is not quite the question of enduring, it is not the suffering, Mother. It is the killing. I don't believe I could kill a man, and yet in the Bible they were told to kill."
"But surely, Larry, we read our Bible somewhat differently these days. Surely we have advanced since the days of Abraham. We do not find our Lord and master commanding men to kill."
"But, Mother, in these present wars should not men defend their women and children from such outrages as we read about?"
"When it comes to the question of defending women and children it seems to me that the question is changed," said his mother. "As to that I can never quite make up my mind, but generally speaking we hold that it is the Cross, not the sword, that will save the world from oppression and break the tyrant's power."
"But after all, Mother," replied Larry, "it was not Smithfield that saved England's freedom, but Naseby."
"Perhaps both Naseby and Smithfield," said his mother. "I am not very wise in these things."
At the door of their house they came upon Nora sitting in the moonlight. "Did you meet Ernest and Mr. Romayne?" she inquired. "They've only gone five minutes or so. They walked down with us."
"No, we did not meet them."
"You must be tired after the wild excitement of the day, Mother," said Nora. "I think you had better go at once to bed. As for me, I am going for a swim."
"That's bully; I'm with you," said Larry.
In a few minutes they were dressed