“I would like to be one of your men,” he said. “I am tired of belonging to the Chartered Company.” The stranger looked down gently. “Peter Simon Halket,” he said, “can you bear the weight?” And Peter said, “Give me work, that I may try.” There was silence for a time; then the stranger said, “Peter Simon Halket, take a message to England”--Peter Halket started--“Go to that great people and cry aloud to it: ‘Where is the sword was given into your hand, that with it you might enforce justice and deal out mercy? How came you to give it up into the hands of men whose search is gold, whose thirst is wealth, to whom men’s souls and bodies are counters in a game? How came you to give up the folk that were given into your hands, into the hand of the speculator and the gamester; as though they were dumb beasts who might be bought or sold? “‘Take back your sword, Great People--but wipe it first, lest some of the gold and blood stick to your hand. “‘What is this, I see!--the sword of the Great People, transformed to burrow earth for gold, as the snouts of swine for earth nuts! Have you no other use for it, Great Folk? “‘Take back your sword; and, when you have thoroughly cleansed it and wiped it of the blood and mire, then raise it to set free the oppressed of other climes. “‘Great Prince’s Daughter, take heed! You put your sword into the hands of recreant knights; they will dull its edge and mar its brightness, and, when your hour of need comes and you would put it into other hands, you will find its edge chipped and its point broken. Take heed! Take heed!’ “Cry to the wise men of England: ‘You, who in peace and calm in shaded chambers ponder on all things in heaven and earth, and take all knowledge for your province, have you no time to think of this? To whom has England given her power? How do the men wield it who have filched it from her? Say not, What have we to do with folk across the waters; have we not matter enough for thought in our own land? Where the brain of a nation has no time to go, there should its hands never be sent to labour: where the power of a people goes, there must its intellect and knowledge go, to guide it. Oh, you who sit at ease, studying past and future--and forget the present--you have no right to sit at ease knowing nothing of the working of the powers you have armed and sent to work on men afar. Where is your nation’s sword--you men of thought?’ “Cry to the women of England: ‘You, who repose in sumptuous houses, with children on your knees; think not it is only the rustling of the soft draped curtains, or the whistling of the wind, you hear. Listen! May it not be the far off cry of those your sword governs, creeping towards you across wide oceans till it pierces even into your inmost sanctuary? Listen!