the Belgians to go and sit in their houses while they were bombarded.  It is to that that I attribute—­with my infallible sense of justice—­the dreadful loss of life.  So you see the only conclusion that I can reach is that everybody is very naughty and that the only remedy would be to appoint me a committee—­me and a few others, though the others don’t really matter—­to make a proper settlement.  I hope I make myself clear.”

The Negro President shook his head and looked mystified.

“Us coloured folks,” he said, “wouldn’t quite understand that.  We done got the idea that sometimes there’s such a thing as a quarrel that is right and just.”  The President’s melancholy face lit up with animation and his voice rose to the sonorous vibration of the negro preacher.  “We learn that out of the Bible, we coloured folks—­we learn to smite the ungodly—­”

“Pray, pray,” said Mr. Bryan soothingly, “don’t introduce religion, let me beg of you.  That would be fatal.  We peacemakers are all agreed that there must be no question of religion raised.”

“Exactly so,” murmured The Eminent Divine, “my own feelings exactly.  The name of—­of—­the Deity should never be brought in.  It inflames people.  Only a few weeks ago I was pained and grieved to the heart to hear a woman in one of our London streets raving that the German Emperor was a murderer.  Her child had been killed that night by a bomb from a Zeppelin; she had its body in a cloth hugged to her breast as she talked—­thank heaven, they keep these things out of the newspapers—­and she was calling down God’s vengeance on the Emperor.  Most deplorable!  Poor creature, unable, I suppose, to realise the Emperor’s exalted situation, his splendid lineage, the wonderful talent with which he can draw pictures of the apostles with one hand while he writes an appeal to his Mohammedan comrades with the other.  I dined with him once,” he added, in modest afterthought.

“I dined with him, too,” said Dr. Jordan.  “I shall never forget the impression he made.  As he entered the room accompanied by his staff, the Emperor looked straight at me and said to one of his aides, ‘Who is this?’ ’This is Dr. Jordan,’ said the officer.  The Emperor put out his hand.  ‘So this is Dr. Jordan,’ he said.  I never witnessed such an exhibition of brain power in my life.  He had seized my name in a moment and held it for three seconds with all the tenaciousness of a Hohenzollern.

“But may I,” continued the Director of the World’s Peace, “add a word to what has been said to make it still clearer to our friend?  I will try to make it as simple as one of my lectures in Ichthyology.  I know of nothing simpler than that.”

Everybody murmured assent.  The Negro President put his hand to his ear.

“Theology?” he said.

“Ichthyology,” said Dr. Jordan.  “It is better.  But just listen to this.  War is waste.  It destroys the tissues.  It is exhausting and fatiguing and may in extreme cases lead to death.”