The preacher’s hour had struck. He rose grandly to the occasion. His manner was the quintessence of courtly deference, nervously anxious deference.
“My name is Pike,” he began tremblingly—“the Reverend A. Cuthbert Pike, D.D., president of the American Peace Union—”
“Proceed, Cuthbert!” was the short answer.
“We have come, your Excellency—“ he paused and bowed low—“to initiate here today for all the world a constructive policy that will eliminate the necessity for war. Our plan is the appeal to reason.
“We marvel at the amazing delusion that has led Europe into this unprovoked and unnecessary assault. Nobody wants war—least of all I’m sure the great General who knows its full horrors.
“The only question, therefore, is how best to prevent it. This nation has always been too strong, too great in the consciousness of her strength, to desire war. We have sixteen million men ready to die at our call! Why should we sacrifice their precious lives? To what end if we can by any means save them?
“The prime cause, your Excellency—“ again he bowed low—“of war is excessive armament—”
The General laughed heartily, and adjusted his glasses for a better look at Pike. The little man was slightly flustered at this act of uncertain import, but went on bravely in spite of Barker’s look of dejection.
“We proclaim it to all nations that we are not ready to fight, and that we are glad of it because it is not possible in this condition for us to threaten or bully anyone! An unarmed man has ten chances to one over the armed man in keeping out of trouble!”
Again the General laughed and looked the preacher over from head to foot.