“Hurrah for our great city!” squeals the boastfully “metropolitan” small man sweltering in unspeakable corruptions. “Hurrah for the nation—right or wrong!” yelps the patriotic national mongrel. And thus these socially puny creatures, these social runts, stand ready, as it were, to “patriotically” throw carbolic acid at their national and international neighbors. “Hurrah for Mankind, hurrah for Life!” finely calls the socially developed man, the Increasing International Man. Really, reader, the narrow-visioned provincial, the local sniveling, the social shrimp, the pugnacious nationalist, the racial bigot, and the stunted, sacerdotal manlet—really, these unsocial people are, as yet, too local and little and narrow for a federated world, for an internationally social Christ. Really, these unsocial human runts can not sincerely and effectively carry “to all the world” any magnificent social gospel of “peace on earth, good will toward all men,” and “make of one blood all nations”—even tho’ they be baptized. Now please do not misunderstand me. I do not belittle the rite of baptism. But baptism has no effect on a declaration of war by an extremely narrow local bull-dog, whether he be a humble canine wearing a brass collar, or a strutting puny human being wearing a “Prince Albert,” or a lard-and-tallow millionaire worshipping a cash-register. None of these is emotionally and socially fine. As usual, the world is embarrassed when trying to make a silk purse of a sow’s ear. A Christian assassin mounted on the throne of Russia remains an assassin—in spite of his baptism. A Christian bully elevated to the throne of the German Empire or to American presidential distinctions, remains a pugnacious ruffian, spoiling for trouble, always “not only willing but anxious to fight.” Sacerdotal ceremonies have no effect on a leopard’s spots, a tiger’s stripes, a bull-pup disposition, or a cash-register ambition. War among brothers is civil war. All men are brothers. Therefore all war is civil war. But peace is hindered by local littleness—especially by the belittling, localizing effects of the sacred cash-register and its smaller unsocial time-servers.