It may be said that this treaty jeopardizes our traditional policy, which jealously guards against entangling alliances abroad; that as we are exempt by our geographical position from occasions for war this treaty must bring us not benefits but only burdens from other people's calamities and wars--calamities and wars which we do not create and of which we may properly reap the incidental advantages. But this treaty binds none to bear burdens, but only to refrain from cruelties; it binds not to give but to allow others to give wisely and to work humanely if they will, while all shall guarantee to them undisturbed activity in deeds of charity. There is then in the Red Cross no "entangling alliance" that any but a barbarian at war can feel as a restraint. This inculcated wariness of foreign influences, wonderfully freshened by the conduct of foreign rulers and writers during the rebellion and deepened by the crimes and the craft directed primarily at Mexico and ultimately at us, made the people of America in 1864 and 1868 devoutly thankful for the friendly and stormy sea that rolled between them and the European states. And it is not perhaps altogether strange that American statesmen, inspired by such a public opinion, should then have been but little inclined to look with favor upon any new international obligations however specious in appearance or humane in fact. But the award of Geneva surely opened the way for the Red Cross of Geneva. Time and success have made plain the nation's path. The postal treaty since made among all nations and entered into heartily by this has proved salutary to all. It has removed every valid state reason for opposition to the harmless, humane and peaceful provisions of the treaty of the Red Cross. But in the midst of the rugged facts of war come sentimental objections and objectors. For, deplore it as we may, war _is the great fact_ of all history and its most pitiable feature is not after all so much the great numbers slain, wounded and captured in battle, as their cruel after treatment as wounded and prisoners, no adequate provision being made for their necessities, no humane care even permitted, except at the risk of death or imprisonment as spies, of those moved by wise pity or a simple religious zeal. Among these hard facts appears a conscientious theorist and asks, Is not war a great sin and wrong? Ought we to provide for it, to make it easy, to lessen its horrors, to mitigate its sufferings? Shall we not in this way encourage rulers and peoples to engage in war for slight and fancied grievances?