"When I read them," said Bob, "I was obliged to throw them away from me, as if I had been touching unclean things. I too was brought up to believe in peace at any price, and I hated war as I hate hell itself; so much did I hate it, that I refused to enlist in the English Army and alienated those who were dearest to me. Before I enlisted, I fought the biggest battle of my life. Presently I realised the meaning of the German creed; I saw the inwardness and ghastliness of their so-called Gospel of War; I saw that to carry out their purpose they were willing to sacrifice honour and to crush humanity. I saw that they professed friendship in order to betray us; I saw that while they accepted our hospitality in England, they filled our country with spies in the hope that when the time was ready, and they made war upon us, they would use those spies for our destruction. I saw that they regarded a treaty as something that could be thrown off like an old garment, and I saw they were determined on war. What could we do? You do not believe, I suppose, that the murder of the Crown Prince of Austria was the cause of this war? No one believes that it was anything but a pretext. Germany made war--a war for which she had been preparing for a quarter of a century. She signed the Treaty to protect Belgium; she gave her word of honour as a nation that Belgium's neutrality and integrity should be maintained. Then she signed her ultimatum to Belgium, and told her that if she did not allow the German Army to pass through Belgium country in order to crush France, she should be treated as an enemy. When our Ambassador in Berlin pleaded that Germany had signed a treaty to protect Belgium, what was the reply? 'Will you go to war with us just for a scrap of paper?' That is what the war spirit means in Germany. They cannot understand how the honour of a nation could stand in the way of her ambition. And so Germany entered Belgium. What was mercy? What was honour? What was purity? Read the story of Louvain, of Malines; think of the outrages, cruelties, blasphemies, and then ask yourself, what could we have done?" "Yes," said the American; "but war--think of what it has meant." "Is not there something worse than war?" said Bob. "What can be worse?" asked Mr. Hiram Scarsfield. "Violation of honour, of truth, of purity," said the young man earnestly. "That is worse; yes, and it is worse than war to allow a cancer like the German war-spirit to live in the very heart of a continent, making peace and goodwill impossible." "Yes, young man," replied the American; "you make out a strong case, and I have no doubt that if a war could be just, England is fighting a just war. But no war can be just, because every war is born in hell. As for me, I'm going back to America on my crusade of peace." "Mr. Scarsfield," said Bob, "may I suggest something to you?" "Yes; what is it?"