Cannons are God’s preachers, when the time is ripe for
war.
“Now, men, there is no use in discussing a situation not likely to trouble England in this nineteenth century. I believe the world is growing better constantly, and that eventually all men will do, or cause to be done, whatever is square, straight and upright, as the caps on your heads. I believe it, because the good men will soon be so immensely in excess that bad men will hev to do right, and until that day comes, we will go on fighting for freedom in ivery good shape it can come; knowing surely and certainly, that
“Freedom’s battle once begun,
Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft, is always won.
“That is a truth, men, you may all of you cap to,” and as the squire lifted his riding cap high above his head, more than two hundred paper caps followed it, accompanied by a long, joyful shout for the good time promised, and certainly coming.
“Now, men,” said the squire, “let us see what ‘cap money’ we can collect for those who are poor and helpless. Israel Naylor and John Moorby will collect it. It will go for the spreading of the children’s table in Leeds and Israel will see it gets safely there.”
“We’ll hev thy cap, squire,” said Israel. “The man who proposes a cap collection salts his awn cap with his awn money first.” And the squire laughed good-humoredly, lifted his cap, and in their sight dropped five gold sovereigns into it. Then Dick offered his hat to his father, saying he had his opera hat in his pocket and the two happy men went away together, just as some musical genius had fitted Byron’s three lines to a Methodist long-metre, so they were followed by little groups straying off in different directions, and all singing,
“For Freedom’s battle once begun,