APPEAL INSTEAD OF PROHIBITION.

The matter of responsibility for the increase or rather surplus of Independence Day accidents in the town of Killsbury, being settled the question was, what should be done about it?

Alderman Spofford proposed that “a paper—a smooth kind of paper such as Lawyer Rattlinger could write should be gotten up and sent to Mr. Schwarmer asking him to desist from distributing fireworks among the boys of the town. He said he would like to hear Rattlinger’s views on the subject.”

“As I understand it,” replied Rattlinger, “the main object of this meeting is to save our town from this year’s slaughter—a slaughter that will surely take place if free fireworks are distributed here as usual. The day is at hand. The peril is imminent. The question is what would we do if we had word that the king of Spain had sent arms and munitions of war to this place and that he would be here to-morrow to distribute them or arm the irresponsible classes?”“We would say he was the devil in disguise and we would have none of his works,” said a white-haired man rising slowly in his seat. It was Philip Daycoy, the oldest man in town. He had the reputation of being one of the thirteen men who (painted and disguised as Indians) boarded the steamer, Sir Robert Peel; and yelling their war cry—“Remember the Caroline,” put the passengers to flight, plundered it and sent it ablaze down the river.

“My proposition is that we do just about as our forefathers and the Emperor of China did with the tea and opium that England tried to force upon them.”

There was a round of applause from the crowd that had gathered in the back part of the hall and cries of “how! how! Tell us just how, Patriot Daycoy, and by gorra, we’ll do it!”

Was the brutal instinct being stirred up? Philip Daycoy, who was sitting by the Reverend Dr. Normander, looked at him appealingly. Many a year had elapsed since he had thought of himself as a patriot or of the burning of the Sir Robert Peel as a truly patriotic transaction.

“Help me out, for God’s sake, Doctor. I don’t like that brutal howling back there. There must be a way and a right way to do this thing—a way to do it without using muskets and bayonets and setting the cars on fire.”

The reverend gentleman arose quickly and stretched out his arms as though to still a rising tempest.

“Our aged brother Daycoy has authorized me to answer the question for him. I know perfectly well how he feels about matters of this kind. He doesn’t feel exactly as he did when he was young and inexperienced. He was only 18 years old when he boarded the English steamer, with his revengeful cry. He has learned a better and higher wisdom since then. He wants the right thing done every time. He believes in extreme measures in extreme cases but he does not believe in savage measures. That is, he does not propose that we should disguise ourselves as Indians, arm ourselves with muskets and bayonets and seize the patriotic stuff which Lawyer Rattlinger has likened very aptly to arms and munitions of war. To dress like a savage and use the war implements of the civilized man would be making a composite of the worst features of both. He simply means that we must act promptly and with sufficient energy to avert the horrible annual slaughter so near at hand. I am with him in heart and soul. I believe the shortest way would be the surest way and I, like the President, would take it if possible; and I believe we all would. For instance, if by some miraculous event, there should be a load of these dangerous explosives standing in the street as we go out of this hall I believe we would seize upon them with divine accord and proceed to throw them in the river or put them where they could never harm any one. But as nothing so miraculous is likely to occur I propose the next shortest way—that is that the common council take the matter in hand and act promptly and to the full limit of its power. My impression is that the City Fathers have a reserve of power vested in them for such emergencies, and my belief is that the great trouble with those in authority everywhere is that they fail to use the authority when it is needed the most. If I am wrong on these points I hope Lawyer Rattlinger will correct me.”

“You are right in the main,” replied Rattlinger. “The City Fathers have a reserve of power for just such cases and now is the time for the people to call on them to use the reserve. It is needed now, every inch of it; and the whole moral force of the people back of it. Begging the reverend gentleman’s pardon, I think generally that the great trouble with the people is that they do not come out as strongly as they should and make their grievances known.”

“That’s as true as Gospel, Mr. Rattlinger—at least as far as I am concerned; and I wish, as a representative of the moral force (supposedly so) to confess right here, that I have not done my whole duty with regard to our Independence Day peril; for while I have lost no opportunity of warning my church people against it, I feel that I have done very little outside of the church and ought to repent, not exactly in sack-cloth and ashes, but by doing double duty hereafter—working outside of the church as well as in it. I therefore propose that a notice be drafted prohibiting the selling or giving away of any kind of explosives to any person within the corporation and that said notice be printed and posted up early tomorrow morning in all of the most conspicuous places. I don’t know as to the legal efficiency of such a notice in suppressing the nuisance at once, but I think it would help very greatly. Am I right, Mr. President.”

“In view of the shortness of time and more especially of the ease with which prohibitory laws are evaded,” replied the President, “I propose that instead of a prohibitory notice there be a short but stirring appeal to the people, one and all, to refrain from buying, selling, using or giving away any of the iniquitous Fourth of July implements. According to the doctrine of love and trust that I have been taught, a good strong appeal is far ahead of prohibition. Prohibition savors of tyranny and kingliness. It is American bossism. It is squarely against human nature. Tell a child he shan’t do a thing and impose a heavy penalty, and he is sure to do it, if possible. It’s the same with children of a larger growth and more especially so with the makers of millions. They care nothing for fines and even imprisonment is being made delightful for them; but they have a lot of human nature in them and they can be ruled by love as well as the rest of humanity.

“As to Millionaire Schwarmer we should love him for the good he might do, and probably would do, had he been brought up and educated in an Ideal Town and under an Ideal Government. We should love him and hate his fireworks and rid ourselves of them as soon as we can get hold of the infamous things. I see that Editor Parnell is present. I think he could get up the right kind of an appeal—an appeal that would be so truly loving that it would reach every heart and yet be as urgent as it possibly can be without antagonizing the will. We would like to hear from him at all events.”

The editor replied “that he did not come to express his own opinions but to report and publish the opinions of others, but he would say that he thought the President’s idea of an appeal in place of prohibition was an excellent one; and since he had given such a luminous idea of it, he was willing to undertake it and would make it as urgent as possible without distancing the party for whom it was chiefly intended.”

He also begged leave to say “that although he was not quite up to Thoreau’s idea of Civic disobedience, still he believed it necessary at times to act quite contrary to government rules, or at least give the governing powers a few instructions in civic procedure. As the matter now stands we have two national days on our hands that have become public nuisances to say the least. The one is Independence Day and the other is Decoration Day. In my opinion they should be reformed, abolished or merged into Thanksgiving Day and re-baptised.

“But as this meeting under Golden Rule leading has added a sort of civic confessional department, I am obliged to confess, like my aged brother, Daycoy, that I did not feel that way when I was eighteen or thereabouts, which leads me to suggest an educational department, or a return to the old-fashioned Town meeting which contained the bud of the ‘referendum’ that has borne such good fruit in far away Oregon and Switzerland.”

The editor sat down amidst cheers, laughter and cries of “Draft the appeal, Parnell.” “Make it urgent.”

The appeal was drafted, read, approved and handed back to the editor for printing and posting. Then the President made the closing speech in which he said:

“I believe we have done all that it is expedient to do at this time in this direction. But we can work in a great many other directions—just as many as there are persons in this hall. Everybody can do something individually toward preventing Fourth of July accidents. As to Schwarmer I hope the honest scoring he has had at this meeting will make a new man of him. It may have been a little too hard, but formerly it was surely too soft. In fact it is difficult to treat a millionaire exactly right.

“We incline to think that because a man is worth millions, he must have every other good quality. This is absurd. He lives in the same world that we live in, and if he does not live in a glass house, he does live in a house with large plate glass windows in it, and is exposed to the same surveillance and temptations. He has the same need of honest treatment. He is drawn by the same chords of love and sympathy.

“As to the children, I believe that one of the greatest obstacles in the way of this reform is the inclination of the older people to shut their eyes to the doings of the youngsters on this day. This will not do, my friends. It is not until we have taught them the higher lessons of love and right action for every day of the year, that we can hope to accomplish a pure and permanent reform. Like Brother Parnell I believe in the old-fashioned educative Town meeting, but I would not have it too old-fashioned. The city mothers as well as fathers should be in it, just as they are here tonight.”

The meeting closed with the doxology. Father Ferrill and the Reverend Dr. Normander went out arm in arm—and the miraculous happened! The overgrown boy who shouted “Keeo! Let’s dump ’em in the river,” was sitting in his express wagon under the strong light of the street lamp. As soon as he saw the clergymen, he called out:“A miracle, Father Ferrill! Explosives unguarded, Dr. Normander! Shortest way out of Fourth of July racket! I would like to know the sense of this meeting. Will it have sense enough to order me to drive on to the river? I’d like to drive on. Will the folks surround me? I’d like to be surrounded. Will they help me dump this patriotic stuff into the river? I’d like to be helped.”

Father Ferrill went to the lad and spoke to him in a low tone of voice, after which he rose up in his seat. The lamp flared full in his face. He raised his eyes and made the sign of the cross.

“This is the sign that his words are true,” said Father Ferrill turning to the crowd. “It would seem that miraculous things do happen even in these sinful days. The logic of it is this (You see I understand that the real Yankee always wants a reason for everything): When a very important matter agitates the community, no knowing where the wave will end or what it will bring back to us. It is then that a miracle happens. Dr. Normander wished for a miracle and something very like it has happened. The history of it is this: This lad through whom the so-called miracle has come, was the foster child of Captain Dan Solomon, who was killed several years ago by the bursting of a cannon on Schwarmer Hill. He has always thought that Schwarmer was to blame for that accident. He had an order from him this afternoon to deliver the Fourth of July goods at his mansion on the Hill. He stopped in to this meeting on his way to the train. When Dr. Normander expressed a desire to get his eye on those explosives he hastened out. Now he is here with the atrocious things and has given me the bill to read for your enlightenment:

Express Agents please handle with care.

J. E. Schwarmer.”

“Yes! yes! We’ll handle them with care—on to the river!” shouted a chorus of voices.

“Where’s the President?” asked Father Ferrill.

“Inside with the aldermen;” cried Ralph, “but we need not wait for him. We will go on at once. He will approve. He believes in the people. He sings a song about them. Come on Dick Solomon! Come on everybody! I will sing his song for you while we go.” He burst forth in a beautiful tenor voice:

“O I’m a man without a party—a free untrammeled soul!
An undivided atom, within a mighty whole!
I believe in all the people; in them we shall be blest,
It is through the common people we shall find the promised rest.”

They went on, Ralph and Ruth, arm in arm, and the crowd followed. The moon came out in regal splendor as they reached the bridge. It was Schwarmer’s bridge that the corporation had built for him. It had a lamp on each end, making it light enough to read the names on the boxes without difficulty. There was a large assortment of patriotic death-dealers such as the bill had shown—and more too. In a bundle tied up separately they found some choice specimens such as Powdered Crackers, Sacred Mandarins, Aaron’s Rod, Yankee Doodle Doos, and Giant Torpedos.

“These were for the large boys,” said Ralph. “Truly Mr. Schwarmer was going to give every boy in Killsbury a glorious chance to kill himself this year.”

“Do you suppose that any of those boxes could possibly be fished out?” asked Ruth after the last box had gone over the falls.

“Hardly,” laughed Ralph. “I never heard of anything being fished out that went over the falls into the deep hole at the foot. Some say it goes through to China. If it did it would be serving old China right—sending their vicious wares back to them.”

“And a curious reminder to John Chinaman if it be true that he uses the American Missionaries’ tracts in the construction of firecrackers for the American market,” said Father Ferrill. “At any rate we have the consolation of knowing that this batch of powder will be too wet to do any damage this Fourth. The City Fathers can get their ordinance in perfect working order before the next—so perfect that no miracle will be needed to help them out. Cromwell’s order to his soldiers was to ‘trust in the Lord and keep their powder dry.’ Lord grant that we may trust in His Holy Name and keep our powder wet.”

It was a reversion of the brutal saying that has been taught in military schools for more than a century, and it sounded like a benediction to Ruth as she took Ralph’s arm and turned away with a thankful heart.

They walked on in lover-like silence until Ruth broke out in her enthused way:

“Do you know, Ralph, I just love Father Ferrill!”

“Hold on there! Not too much of that, Ruth!”

“But I do love him very much! He’s so good and wise. Wasn’t it splendid his re-version of Cromwell’s order?”

“Yes, Ruth, it was very apt, but you are not to love him.”

“Hush, Ralph! you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

But it was honey-moon time and Ralph was not ashamed either of his words or actions on that charmed occasion. He finally admitted, however, after sundry concessions from Ruth that Father Ferrill was a very fine man, and that his re-version of the old Cromwellian adage had given him a new idea on the subject of adages.

“What is it, Ralph?”“Tell it not to the professional litterateur or the dusty book-worm, Ruth; but the idea is that all those brutal old sayings that have been handed down to us from warring ages need to be revised or done away with as badly as the old brutal customs of which they were born. ‘In times of peace prepare for war,’ is another old serpent.”

“It should be, ‘In times of peace prepare for more peace,’” said Ruth.

“And love,” added Ralph.

As to the rest of the crowd that wended their way homeward that night it is safe to say that there was not a soul among them that did not feel elated with the thought that they had done a deed that would save more than one mother’s heart from anguish on the day that was fast approaching, and might be the means of saving scores upon scores in the years that were to come.

The Golden Rule President was more than pleased when he found that the shortest way had been made available, and that the people, “the blessed people,” had caught the inspiration of Divinity and had done their own work.

Editor Parnell’s report was a luminous one; but whether it hit the conscience or pride of one of the passengers on the Killsbury train the next morning will be revealed hereafter.