The Daily News. SATURDAY, MARCH 2, 1900. WHAT YET MAY BE.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XXXXII, Issue 75, 24 March 1900, Page 2

The Daily News. SATURDAY, MARCH 2, 1900. WHAT YET MAY BE.

Some few years ago there appeared in one of the leading English maga'.u.ts a remarkable allegorical romance dealing with, amongst other things, the possibility of for ever doing away with crime and violence, and especially war. The hero of the story was a person who, unknown to the world at large, went through factories, prisons, and barracks, visiting a man here and there, but always in secret. Such was the marvellous influence that he exercised, and so gracious was his presence and spirit, that men freely yielded up their lives for the carrying out of his propaganda. Strange things were done, for which there was no known reason, but in no sphere was this more remarkable than in the armies of the ! Great Powers. The agents taught and inspired by this master, comprising all ranks of soldiers, from pxivates tj generals, worked ia secret, passing on his teachings and transmitting his spirit, the principle of which was that [none should work his brother harm. I Drill went on as usual; all Europe was under arms in momentary expectation of great international strife. Germany and France were in readiness to meet again, and day by day the war cloud thickened and the rival armies drew neai and nearer to one another. At last the rupture came, and war was declared between Teuton and Frank. Then comes the climax of the story. The two great armies are at last within striking distance of one ano'ther. The German Emperor at the head of his troops instructs a staff officer to order the artillery to open fire on the enemy, but the officer remains respectfully silent. The Emperor. aghast at such a breach of military discipline, strikes the officer to the ground with his sword, and then turns to another and gives the order, but only to meet with the same result. Calmly and unflinchingly silent, this officer also meets his doom at the hand of his Emperor. Not a stir takes place in the ranks, not an officer or man will either pass on or obey the Emperor's command, and William the Second feels himself powerless to move a single unit of the mighty military force that has for years been the pride of his life. In the French camp a similarly startling scene is being enacted. The President, with the Minister of War, order an attack on the opposing force, but no one moves to carry the order into action. Stern, silent, and resolute unto

death, officers and men refuse to pass on orders or to obey. There stand facing one another the two great armies, every branch of the service represen;ed and fully equipped with the deadliest of weapons, but they might have been two bands of little children for all the harm they would do. They were under the spell of the Prince of Peace, for He it was who had passed from regiment to regiment, from camp to camp, from private to genpral, and choosing from the midst of the men of war those who were in some measure of kindred spirit with Himself had given them the commission of peace, and they in their turn had brought their comrades under its transforming influence. Each had vowed to lay down his own life rather than take another's, and so the vast armies of the nations became leavened with the leaven of brotherly love, and when the testing time came it was found that men would no longer slay one another, and kings, emperors, and presidents had to stand aside for the Prince of Peace. We need not follow the story further. No doubt the very idea of such a conception will be by many regarded with loudly expressed scorn, with curling lip and unconcealed contempt, but be this as it may, there is a ring of prophecy about it that will outlive the cheap sneer, and sound clear above the martial clamour that is to-day, so greatly in fashion. That it is not all a dream is proved by the following letter from a private in the Gordon Highlanders to his sister about the Magerstontein affair, and which has lately been going the rounds of the Press: —" I will never forget it. Men on both sides shot down like mad dogs. I believe the demon devil was in the men; all they wanted was the lives of the Boers. They seemed to be. clamouring for the blood of the Boers at the charge, shouting ' Majuba! Majuba!' and we got, Majuba in good earnest. We were glad. to retire, like dogs with our tails between our legs. I thank God I did not get hit. I got my shins cut with barbed wire. My dear sister, I remember your words - they are still ringing in my ears—- ' Don't be a murderer.' Cain's stain will never enter my soul. I don't forget to fire high. I will not be the tool f a ny nation. If I took a man's life when in England I would be hung for i but if the Government order me to

kill it is all right. Our picket brought in four prisoners—an Irishman, two Welshmen, and a German. The corporal in charge of the prisoners wilfully, with the butt end of his rifle, broke the right arm of one of the Welshmen prisoners because he was lighting against England. He is a miner, and says it was oppression which caused kiin to leave his home and country and make the Transvaal his home. Anyway, there were several said they would take the bounce out of the corporal. Well, it is all over with him now. It appears he went ta the rear, and never came back alive. Big skull was broke in, and there he was found stiff. . . .

Don't forget me in your night prayers. If it is the will of God that I should lose my life in this war I say • Thy will be done.'" A voice like this from the very battlefield itself counts for more than all the polemics or philippics of the advocates of militarism.