nd the finer things in life.

Kings and rulers, fired by selfish egotism, know full well what a
powerful force patriotism is and they nurse the babes with fatherland
stuff and give them tin soldiers to play with and tin helmets to wear.

Patriotism, when it reflects love of the place of one's nativity, when
it spells home and love and association, is a natural and a beautiful
sentiment.

But patriotism, as fomented and fostered by governments for war spurs
and goads, is a monster that lives on blood.

To keep this false patriotism alive, wars must be made, so that human
blood can be secured to save the monster from perishing. Human blood
fires and intoxicates this false patriotism behemoth.

And so, on slight pretexts Kings are insulted. War lords have put out
chips on their shoulders on purpose to be knocked off, and when the chip
is brushed off then comes the declaration of war.

The banner, patriotism, is flaunted in the air. It is the shibboleth of
the red blooded, hot headed, bravest and best of the nation, the youth,
who die in countless thousands--for what?

Such patriotism is failure and worse than failure. It is hindrance to
civilization.

These bewildered men have let reason escape, and intoxicated false
patriotism poison come in their brains to take the place of reason.

In their delirium they try to appear consistent, logical and abused. In
their extremity they try to co-ordinate their acts with God's mind.

Each nation has its own interpretation of the Divine will. Each asks
Divine help for his nation.

God looks at the maddened millions of insane murderers and his heart is
torn as He sees the avalanche of tears shed by bereaved wives and
children.

The patriotism that is responsible for starting this war is a mockery, a
snare, a delusion, and deserves the profoundest contempt of every man
who loves his fellow man.

Europe has certainly put riot in patriotism.

RIDICULE

A Poor Vehicle for Humor

The man who ridicules everything is on the toboggan slide and he will
finish the slide as an out-and-out grouch.

You and I know men who never have a pleasant word to say of anyone, or a
serious commendation of anything.

Ridicule and sarcasm are often coated with would-be humor, and try to
pass for puns. By and by, however, this ridicule and sarcasm gets to be
a habit, and the coat of humor becomes threadbare.

Just at this time friends depart, for the grouch phase of the disease
h