“But don’t the Master say that we should return good for evil?” replied Mr. Larkin, “and when smitten on the right cheek that we should turn the left?”
“Well,” replied Uncle Jim slowly, “I suppose he did say so; an’ I suppose if the majority of folks would do so, it would be better. But it seems to me that I have read somethin’ about the Master’s getting riled at some wretches that had turned the Temple into a sort of pawnbroker’s shop, and then drivin’ them out with horse whips, because they had made it a den of thieves. Now what do you suppose he would have done, if he had been in Belgium, and had seen them Germans setting fire to churches, and killin’ women and children?”
“That,” said Mr. Larkin, “only proves my assertion, that everybody should set themselves against war; you speak, as though to keep the peace with all your power, was degrading.”
“No, no,” said uncle; “you misunderstand me. What I mean is, that when a bully hits you, you must hit him back so hard that he will never want to hit you again. To do the contrary would be to encourage him. Such folks would soon rule the world, if you did not make them take a back seat.”
After Germany had violated her agreement with the United States not to sink any more of our ships sailing the ocean on peaceful missions, our President declared war, to “make the world safe for democracy.” Then came the first call for volunteers, to fill up the ranks of the National army. Men were quiet, but determined, in supporting the President, and a deep undercurrent of war spirit prevailed in our little community.
I had the war fever mighty bad. But uncle said: “Wait awhile an’ see how that cat is a goin’ to jump—for ’taint best to be in a hurry about important matters.”
There were some who differed about the wisdom of declaring war, and, of course, our neighbor Larkin was among them.
“Don’t you think,” he said to Uncle Jim, “that it would have been better if our President had not been so hasty?”
“No,” replied uncle decidedly, “I think that, instead of trying to keep us out so hard, if we had ridged up our backs in the fust place, and had begun to get a big army together, Germany would never have dared to provoke us to war. We have a right to sail the seas wherever we choose, on peaceful business—that was decided in the war of 1812—an’ no nation on earth has a right to say we shan’t.”
During all this talk and excitement Jot was mostly silent with a constraint that I did not understand—though I had full faith in his patriotism. At one time, before the declaration of war, it had been proposed by my cousin Will Edwards that they should go to Canada and enlist. But Jot had gravely replied: “I should like to fight under the flag of this free nation, if she should ever need me; as my Uncle Jed did in the Civil War.”