century. In the old, earnest times, war made men stanch and true to
each other. We have learned up a good many glib phrases about the
wickedness of war, and we thank God that we live in these peaceful,
trading times, wherein we can--and do--devote the whole of our
thoughts and energies to robbing and cheating and swindling one
another--to "doing" our friends, and overcoming our enemies by
trickery and lies--wherein, undisturbed by the wicked ways of
fighting-men, we can cultivate to better perfection the "smartness,"
the craft, and the cunning, and all the other "business-like" virtues
on which we so pride ourselves, and which were so neglected and
treated with so little respect in the bad old age of violence, when
men chose lions and eagles for their symbols rather than foxes.

There is a good deal to be said against war. I am not prepared to
maintain that war did not bring with it disadvantages, but there can
be no doubt that, for the noblest work of Nature--the making of
men--it was a splendid manufactory. It taught men courage. It
trained them in promptness and determination, in strength of brain and
strength of hand. From its stern lessons they learned fortitude in
suffering, coolness in danger, cheerfulness under reverses. Chivalry,
Reverence, and Loyalty are the beautiful children of ugly War. But,
above all gifts, the greatest gift it gave to men was stanchness.

It first taught men to be true to one another; to be true to their
duty, true to their post; to be in all things faithful, even unto
death.

The martyrs that died at the stake; the explorers that fought with
Nature and opened up the world for us; the reformers (they had to do
something more than talk in those days) who won for us our liberties;