"Next to the cruel game of war are the celebrations that glorify war or warriors. They are murderous at the core and they are growing worse and worse every year. Notably our Independence Day. I was never so fully conscious of it as now. I have just been to see a little boy who is dying of _Tetanus_. His sufferings were terrible to witness. His father gave him that invention of the evil one, a toy pistol. No father in our society would have done such a thing. O how I wish Vassili had been there to paint the scene in its true horror and exhibit it all over this reckless American continent. "Last of all come the games of chance. Many of them are dangerous to life and limb and all of them are more or less sinful. They are wrong in principle inasmuch as they are a waste of energy--the great Divine energy that was given us for the regeneration of the world and the building up and beautifying of the God-given body instead of tearing it down, defacing it, brutalizing it and arousing within it the murderous spirit of resistance and revenge. Such games are too numerous to mention. Thou wilt know them by their signs. They are among the perils that encompass thee around and about. "Look at them with an unclouded vision. Let not custom blind thee to their sinuousness and wrong. Set an honest face against them. Cast out the devil that is in them and invent new ways of amusing the young and entertaining the old. "Think of these things, dear child. Think of the women and children that are shivering and starving while millions and millions are being spent in battleships and hideous inventions for the destruction of human life. Raise thy voice against them and do whatsoever thou canst to avert or heal the poverty and misery that follow in their track. "How I wish I could be spared to go with thee, for I feel that thou _wilt_ go about doing good to souls in need. Yes, the spirit tells me so, dear child, and I must listen and be content." Truly thine, ELEANOR TOWNSEND SCHWARMER. "How I wish she could have been spared; and how I wish I could see Vassili Verestchagin!" whispered Adelaide as she closed the journal. CHAPTER XXII. A WONDERFUL CHANGE IN KILLSBURY.