see
them? It's Massachusetts soldiers marching South to the war--can't you
hear the beating of the drums and the shrill calling of the fife--the
regiments from the North, the first to come. I saw them pass, here where
we are sitting, sixty years ago--"

Knickerbocker paused a moment, his hand still extended in the air, and
then with a great light upon his face he cried:

"I know it now! I know what it meant, the feeling that has haunted
me--the sounds I kept hearing--the guns of the ships at sea and the
voices calling in distress! I know now. It means, sir, it means--"

But as he spoke a great cry came up from the street and burst in at the
doors and windows, echoing in a single word:

WAR! WAR! The message of the President is for WAR!

"War!" cried Father Knickerbocker, rising to his full height, stern and
majestic and shouting in a stentorian tone that echoed through the great
room. "War! War! To your places, every one of you! Be done with your
idle luxury! Out with the glare of your lights! Begone you painted women
and worthless men! To your places every man of you! To the Battery! Man
the guns! Stand to it, every one of you for the defence of America--for
our New York, New York--"

Then, with the sound "New York, New York" still echoing in my ears I
woke up. The vision of my dream was gone. I was still on the seat of
the car where I had dozed asleep, the book upon my knee. The train had
arrived at the depot and the porters were calling into the doorway of
the car: "New York! New York!"

All about me was the stir and hubbub of the great depot. But loud
over all it was heard the call of the newsboys crying "WAR! WAR! The
President's message is for WAR! Late extra! WAR! WAR!"

And I knew that a great nation had cast aside the bonds of sloth
and luxury, and was girding itself to join in the fight for the free
democracy of all mankind.

III. The Prophet in Our Midst

The Eminent Authority looked around at the little group of us seated
about him at the club. He was telling us, or beginning to tell us,
about the outcome of the war. It was a thing we wanted to know. We were
listening attentively. We felt that we were "getting something."

"I doubt very much," he said, "whether Downing Street realizes the
enormous power which the Quai d'Orsay has over the Yildiz Kiosk."

"So do I," I said, "what is it?"

But he hardly noticed the interruption.

"You've got to remember," he went on, "that, from the poin