A PUBLIC MEETING—STATISTICS AND RESOLUTIONS.

Early in the afternoon there was a big poster on the Town Hall, with a proclamation, or rather, invitation from the President, asking “the citizens one and all, without distinction of sex, race or color to assemble together in order to discuss plans for the saving of life, limb and property during the forthcoming celebration of the Nation’s birthday.”

They came—old men and young men, women and girls. The hall was packed with an expectant crowd. The President opened the meeting by saying:

“Dear Friends and Townsmen:

“I did not invite you here to listen to a speech. I don’t believe in cornerings of any kind and surely not in cornering anybody and talking him to death. I invited you expecting you would talk to me and each other. I am a new man in civic affairs; but I don’t want to stay new. I want to get at the heart of the interests of this town. I did not come among you to make millions. Like my brother mayor over in Ohio, I should not know what to do with a million of money; but unlike him I am not afraid I shall ever be a millionaire (applause). But I begin to fear that I have neglected my civic duties. You know I was averse to having the yoke of office put upon me. Now I thank you for your kindly insistance. I have had proof this very day that the yoke is good for me and may prove to be good for the people of the town also (cries of ‘why’ and ‘how’).

“Before I tell you why or how I want to give thanks right here before you all to one who is not here—one who has crossed over—my dear Quaker mother, who taught me the Golden Rule and how to apply it. I loved that rule, but I hesitated about putting it up in the office, just as my brother mayor hesitated about putting it up in his manufacturing establishment. I had very much the same feeling about it, but I conquered it, thank God! It resulted in this meeting (cries of ‘hear!’ ‘hear!’)

“Yes, you shall hear. I don’t believe in keeping matters of this kind veiled. Early this morning a young woman came to my office. She brought no axe to grind but she brought what was infinitely better, a heart full of love and solicitude for the youth of this town. Years ago her little brother had fallen a victim to a terrible and mysterious Fourth of July accident, and she wanted to do something to save others from a like fate. She thought that if I believed in the Golden Rule I would help. God bless her.” (Cries of “God bless her!” “God bless her!”)

The President wiped his eyes and continued: “Yes, God bless her! She brought no axe to grind but she brought her husband with statistics to prove that this town has more Independence Day accidents than any town of its size in the state.” (Cries of “shame on the town.”)

“Yes, shame on the town and every individual of the town—especially those who profess to represent it. I am ashamed of myself—mortally ashamed that I have let such a monster grow and fatten right under my nose, without doing a thing to prevent it. I don’t know how the rest of you will feel about it, but I feel that I have very little excuse for my stupidity in this regard; for the same mother that taught me the Golden Rule also taught me that war and its instruments and all its vain-glorious celebrations such as our Independence Day has grown to be, are wrong and that we should lose no opportunity of speaking and acting against them.

“She taught me all that and I accepted it or thought I did. I proclaimed myself to be a man of peace, an enemy to cannons, battle-ships, swords, guns, pistols and all the implements made for the killing of men; while I have had nothing to say against the little murderous, viperous implements that are put into the hands of innocent and ignorant boys.” (Cries of “hear!” “We are all in the same boat!”)

“Then let us get out of the boat and go to work in earnest to destroy the evil, root and branch. There is nothing more sure than that this Fourth of July slaughter is a branch of war—a terribly crooked branch and a poison one—one that can be easily made to grow into another deadly Upas tree. We have all heard of that exasperating old Upas the very fibre of which if woven into a garment produces a constant itching to the wearer. The same thing happens to the small boy who indulges in Independence Day customs too freely. He gets an itching for war and brutal sports. Ralph Norwood will now give you the statistics of our annual Independence Day slaughter for the last ten years, which will show you, I trust, into what a fatal fetichism we are rapidly descending.”

Ralph came forward with an immense roll which he accidentally let slip. As it trailed on the stage there were whispers of excitement from all parts of the house, such as “See.” “See.” One rough fellow blurted out:

“That’s all right, Norwood, let’s have it sled length.”

“The first accident on his record was at the laying of the Corner Stone of the Schwarmer mansion. He explained that he had begun there because the disasters that had occurred previous to that date had not been noticeably large. On that eventful day Mr. Schwarmer had come from the city and brought a carload of fireworks, cannon included. His hostler was killed while firing off the cannon. There were several minor accidents the same day. But little account was made of them in face of the greater accident. I believe one of the boys who had his fingers shot off is in the hall now. If so will he kindly raise up his maimed hand in proof of the statement?”

The hand was raised and sighs of pity were heard from various parts of the house.

“The next year the worst accident was caused by a boy who threw a bunch of firecrackers at a horse. It ran away throwing out a mother and child. The child was killed and the mother’s back almost broken. She lingered until the next Fourth and died in a paroxysm of fear, piteously begging to have the terrible fireworks stopped. I see that Dr. Muelenberg is here. We would like to hear his testimony.”

The doctor arose promptly and confirmed Ralph’s statement. He also said “that in his opinion there should be no temporizing with this matter. Everybody knew that explosives were dangerous, especially those that were gotten up on purpose to explode and that they should never be put into the hands of the young or ignorant or evil disposed.” He added sarcastically:“There is no need of appointing a lumbering committee to go around the world and investigate the injurious effect of powder and dynamite on the human system. It is well known that a very small quantity of either is sufficient to put a boy’s eye out, tear off his fingers or produce one of the most horrible diseases, lockjaw—a disease which boasted antitoxin fails to cure in nine cases out of ten. I don’t see how any man in his right senses would dare to put such explosives into a young boy’s hands. Surely such a man must be afflicted with what the Germans call ‘Precocious Imbecility.’ Permitting boys to kill themselves and each other is almost worse than they do in Germany. Boys there are carefully protected until they are old enough to serve some purpose or to be killed in the service of the King, while the American small boy has almost no protection and does not seem to be reared for any purpose unless it is to be killed in the service of the King of Commerce. I speak advisedly for I perceive that he is already being caught in the net-work of at least two great business interests—those of Pyrotechnics and Antitoxin, to say nothing of the lesser interests of hospital nurses and doctors. What will come next to entangle him and hold him there it were vain to forecast. As to the doctors I am one of them, and ought to know what I am talking about. I know it’s money in my pocket to have the beastly thing go on; but I hope you will believe me when I say that I don’t want it to go on.” (Cries of “Yes!” “Yes.”)

“I came to this country straight from the German University, with high hopes, but I have had to let them down fully half way. Not quite down to the lethargic German level but lower down than I could possibly have imagined: for what do I see, in this new-born land? A nation of freemen, courting self-destruction! Arming their ignorant young boys and hardened criminals against themselves! What do I see the next day and the next after the glorious Independence Day of which I heard so much in my own country? I see the dead, the mutilated, the dying, the weeping mothers and trembling sisters! I landed in New York the last days of beautiful June eager to grasp my brother practitioners by the hand and help them to make this people as strong and healthy as they were prosperous and free. But what did I hear in this free land? A voice from the high seat of a great City Government saying: ‘Prepare the way! Prepare the way! (Not for the “Prince of Light”) but for the prince of darkness, death, din and disorder! Stand by with lint, bandages and antitoxin! Have an ambulance within call; for the prince that rules this day is sure to leave hosts of wounded and dying in his track.’ When I stood still and asked why they allowed this thing to be, they looked fierce at me and warned me to take lessons in American patriotism. Certainly ‘precocious imbecility’ must be at the bottom of this whole business.”

Dr. Muelenberg sat down amidst a storm of applause and Ralph continued:

“The next year a terrible accident occurred and a very mysterious one. A beautiful boy of eight years was brought home with his clothes burned off and his face scarred and torn beyond recognition. Nobody ever knew to a certainty where he got the supply of fireworks which caused his death. His parents certainly did not give them to him. The father is in the house now and will no doubt tell you so if you should desire to know.”

Cries of “yes, yes, yes, let the father speak!” were heard on all sides.

Mr. Cornwallis turned pale and hesitated.

“O! do speak father,” whispered Ruth, who was sitting by his side in the front row. “If you don’t I must, but I had rather you would speak. I know it would do you good. Tell them just how you feel about it. You may be the means of saving some other boy’s life.”

Ralph waited serenely. He knew well enough what Ruth was saying, although he could not hear her; for they had talked the matter over and she had promised to be as near as possible, to spirit him on and urge her father to speak instead of speaking herself.

He was so elated with the consciousness of the one presence that he hardly realized that her father was on his feet until his agonized voice rang out:

“Yes, it is as Mr. Norwood has said. My boy was brought home unrecognizable beyond any words of mine to describe—as though all the agencies of hell had been employed to hurt and disfigure his little body. His once fair face was so gored with powder and blotched with colored fires, that not a vestige of likeness remained.”

Mr. Cornwallis paused and closed his eyes. The room was deathly still—as still as though the audience had been actually looking at little Laurens’ mutilated face. His wife clasped his hand and Ruth whispered: “Have courage, Father! Have courage!”

Then he went on more calmly than before:

“We never knew where he got the fireworks. They must have been given to him; nor does it seem possible that one person could have given him all that he appeared to have had. Mr. Schwarmer distributed fireworks very freely that day but he insisted that he did not give any to Laurens and not enough to any one boy to injure himself with. My idea is that some one who was assisting Schwarmer in his distributions, must have given him some of the colored pieces intended for evening display; and that he was seized upon, or induced by other boys to go into the woods and stack them together, in order to have a big explosion, and that he was the victim of that explosion. Facts and circumstances have since come to light which have confirmed this belief. Schwarmer brought a lad with him from the city to help him celebrate. There were a great many strange boys in town. They came from the surrounding country, walking in on the railroad tracks or rowed down the river in rickety boats. There was a rumor that one boat load of boys went over the falls and were drowned. Be that as it may, there were undoubtedly a large number of rough characters attracted to this place by Mr. Schwarmer’s free distribution of fireworks, and by the alluring advertisements that appeared in all the country newspapers hereabouts, with regard to it.”

Mr. Cornwallis paused again, and again there was silence—the silence of expectancy. He went on:

“I have only one word more to say. The Lord help me to say it. I charge no man with the death of my son, still I believe we are all more or less to blame. We are surely to blame for allowing our National Day to be turned into a fiery Moloch for the sacrifice of the youth of our land. I see it as plain now as though it were written in letters of fire; and I ought to have seen it before. I ought to have been doing something to guard our little ones from this dreadful monster all these years while I have been mourning for my boy; but the misery was so great, the mystery so incomprehensible that I could not bear to think of it. It seemed as though I should go crazy. Besides I had great fears for my wife and still greater for my daughter. But all that has passed by, thank God, and I am ready now to join you in the good cause.”

He sat down amidst cries of “Amen” and “Amen!”

Ruth leaned back in her seat and looked at Ralph radiantly. He continued his statistics:

“The next year two boys died of lockjaw, caused by the blank cartridges known to have been given them by Mr. Schwarmer. Several others lost fingers and eyes. If there are any of the latter present will they please make it manifest?”

Three young men rose to their feet. One was totally blind and the others partially.

Every eye in the hall was turned toward them and expressions of sympathy were heard from all sides. These object lessons had a good effect, but there was no time for more and Ralph hurried on with the statistics, confident that no more were needed. The list being completed, then came the question—Why was it that this town of Killsbury contributed the largest quota to the Fourth of July death roll of any town in the state? He sat down amidst cries of “why” and “shame on the town.”

“Yes, shame on the town,” said a man rising promptly in his seat; “and shame on Mr. Schwarmer. I think we all know that he is responsible for the surplus of accidents in this town. That it is directly due to his distribution of free fireworks among the ignorant and irresponsible classes; for I happen to know that he doesn’t always draw the line at the small boy. I saw him on one occasion throw boxes and boxes of firecrackers and cartridges among a crowd that had collected around, just as kings do money, and then stop and laugh to see the scrabbling after them.

“Still I suppose we ought to go slow in the matter of fixing the blame on Mr. Schwarmer—a valuable man and one who is supposed to have done or is expected to do so much for the town though I can’t just tell what he has done—can’t give the statistics, not having lived here always, as friend Pollock who sits by my side has. Perhaps he can tell you.”

“I’ll be plagued if I can think of a plaguy thing he’s done for this town,” said Pollock testily. “The fact is, he was born on the Town and our fathers fed him and clothed him and gave him a good send-off as soon as they saw that he had spunk enough in him to go. After he turned up in the Stock Exchange, he paid them off by tom-fooling their sons and taking every spare dollar from them to gamble with and lose for them and finally win back again into his own pocket. I know that well enough for I knew one of the tomfools. There were lots and lots of others, but they never told how they got sucked in. It leaked out little by little though and more than one spoke out plainly before they died; but it seems as though we were determined to be blind, deaf and dumb in the matter and all because he coddled us boys—giving us—what? Things to kill and disfigure ourselves with. You see this crippled hand, don’t you?” he added, holding up his right hand, which had three stiff fingers. “Well I am indebted to him for that and I’ve cursed him for it many a time in secret, but I’ve never been honest enough to out with it ’til now. That’s all he’s ever done for me. I can’t say as to the carpenters that built his house. I never heard that any of them got rich out of his carpentering though he built a big house for himself, then a big stable for his horses, and then an addition to the stable for more horses. All he’s ever done for the town is to make a big show up on the hill, with his sky-scraper and sky rockets. He has never benefited the people except with the kind of benefit that a cat may get by looking at a king.”

“That’s about it,” said a man in the back end of the hall, addressing his remarks to those immediately about him. “There was a time when the boys could go a fishing in the river and get a nice mess of Bull-heads for Fourth of July dinner. But now he owns the river and all that’s in it. He had Ben Hawley arrested last Fourth for fishing in his river. Humph! It won’t be long before he will own us as well as the river. He thinks he has more right to us now than the Lord Almighty.”

“Keoo!” shouted an overgrown lad. “The river is his and all that’s in it. Let’s dump some more of his traps in the river. I’ll help, by gar, I will!” At that moment Father Ferrill came in and took the noisy boy in charge.