But above all, they were Englishmen. Love of country was a tremendous factor. The homeland was dearer than their own lives. They could not stand by and see it filched from them. Of course there were a lot of patriotic songs in which the whole audience joined. Some of them were silly doggerel, but there was nothing coarse or unworthy in them. "Yes," thought Bob, "there is something almost divine in this love of home and country. It is eternal in the human heart. One can't get away from that." Presently the speakers came on the stage, amidst great cheering and waving of handkerchiefs. The chief speaker, one who held the supreme position in Naval matters, spoke first. It was a masterly speech, every sentence of which was carefully prepared and tellingly delivered. He did not appeal to passion, but in cold, measured terms spoke of the causes which led to the war, and then passed on to the success of the Navy and the Army. "Yes," reflected Bob, as the young statesman sat down amidst the thundering applause of the multitude, "as far as a war can be righteous, this is. If ever a war were justified, this is. But can a resort to brute force and instruments of murder ever be justified? That is the question. No, it is not right that these Germans should be a menace to Europe and the world; but do we not believe in God? Can we not trust Him? Must blood be washed out by blood, must brutal arrogance be swept away at the cost of carnage and infinite misery?" The second speaker, although he had not the same weight, deepened the impression the other had made by his brilliance and rhetoric. He too told the story of the English Ambassador in Berlin who was asked whether England would go to war for "a scrap of paper." That was the question which he asked amidst the cheers of the crowd, and then waited a second. "Yes," and his voice rang clearly through the great building, "when that scrap of paper meant England's honour and faithfulness." Before Bob knew what he was doing, he found himself cheering wildly. A man, a nation should fight for its honour, its plighted word. Then the old question came back. But how could it do so in the name of Christ? Should not the weapons of Christ be used? Should not an appeal be made to the Founder of the Christian religion? Would not the Kaiser, he who professed to be a Christian, have laid down the sword if he had been appealed to in the name of the Prince of Peace? How could a bloody war be waged by those who believed in Christ? It was all confusing, maddening! The last speaker was a Labour Member of Parliament. He used no polished phrases, no brilliant epigrams. He had no knowledge of the classics, and could not illustrate his arguments by quotations from great writers. But he had something better--a homely wit, a great human sympathy. He had a ready tongue, too, and the crowd roared at his homely humour.