“Yes, you shall hear. I don’t believe in keeping matters of this kind veiled. Early this morning a young woman came to my office. She brought no axe to grind but she brought what was infinitely better, a heart full of love and solicitude for the youth of this town. Years ago her little brother had fallen a victim to a terrible and mysterious Fourth of July accident, and she wanted to do something to save others from a like fate. She thought that if I believed in the Golden Rule I would help. God bless her.” (Cries of “God bless her!” “God bless her!”)
The President wiped his eyes and continued: “Yes, God bless her! She brought no axe to grind but she brought her husband with statistics to prove that this town has more Independence Day accidents than any town of its size in the state.” (Cries of “shame on the town.”)
“Yes, shame on the town and every individual of the town—especially those who profess to represent it. I am ashamed of myself—mortally ashamed that I have let such a monster grow and fatten right under my nose, without doing a thing to prevent it. I don’t know how the rest of you will feel about it, but I feel that I have very little excuse for my stupidity in this regard; for the same mother that taught me the Golden Rule also taught me that war and its instruments and all its vain-glorious celebrations such as our Independence Day has grown to be, are wrong and that we should lose no opportunity of speaking and acting against them.
“She taught me all that and I accepted it or thought I did. I proclaimed myself to be a man of peace, an enemy to cannons, battle-ships, swords, guns, pistols and all the implements made for the killing of men; while I have had nothing to say against the little murderous, viperous implements that are put into the hands of innocent and ignorant boys.” (Cries of “hear!” “We are all in the same boat!”)
“Then let us get out of the boat and go to work in earnest to destroy the evil, root and branch. There is nothing more sure than that this Fourth of July slaughter is a branch of war—a terribly crooked branch and a poison one—one that can be easily made to grow into another deadly Upas tree. We have all heard of that exasperating old Upas the very fibre of which if woven into a garment produces a constant itching to the wearer. The same thing happens to the small boy who indulges in Independence Day customs too freely. He gets an itching for war and brutal sports. Ralph Norwood will now give you the statistics of our annual Independence Day slaughter for the last ten years, which will show you, I trust, into what a fatal fetichism we are rapidly descending.”
Ralph came forward with an immense roll which he accidentally let slip. As it trailed on the stage there were whispers of excitement from all parts of the house, such as “See.” “See.” One rough fellow blurted out:
“That’s all right, Norwood, let’s have it sled length.”
“The first accident on his record was at the laying of the Corner Stone of the Schwarmer mansion. He explained that he had begun there because the disasters that had occurred previous to that date had not been noticeably large. On that eventful day Mr. Schwarmer had come from the city and brought a carload of fireworks, cannon included. His hostler was killed while firing off the cannon. There were several minor accidents the same day. But little account was made of them in face of the greater accident. I believe one of the boys who had his fingers shot off is in the hall now. If so will he kindly raise up his maimed hand in proof of the statement?”
The hand was raised and sighs of pity were heard from various parts of the house.
“The next year the worst accident was caused by a boy who threw a bunch of firecrackers at a horse. It ran away throwing out a mother and child. The child was killed and the mother’s back almost broken. She lingered until the next Fourth and died in a paroxysm of fear, piteously begging to have the terrible fireworks stopped. I see that Dr. Muelenberg is here. We would like to hear his testimony.”