They said “All is well,” while that thunder in the ground never ceased—­it grew deeper and heavier till all America shook with it and it became slowly audible as the voice of the old American soil wherein lay those who had defended it aforetime, a soil that bred those who would defend it again, for it was theirs; and the meaning of it—­Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness—­was theirs, and theirs to defend.  And they knew they would defend it, and that more than the glory of a Nation was at stake.  The Freedom of Man was at stake.  So, gradually, the sacred thunder reached the ears of the young men and gave them those deep moments that came to them whether they sat in the classroom or the counting-room, or walked with the plow, or stood to the machine, or behind the ribbon counter.  Thus the thunder shook them and tried them and slowly came into their lives and changed everything for them.

Hate of the Germans was not bred; but a contempt for what Germany had shown in lieu of a national heart; a contempt as mighty and profound as the resolve that the German way and the German will should prevail in America, nor in any country of the world that would be free.  And when the German Kaiser laid his command upon America, that no American should take his ship upon the free seas, death being the penalty for any who disobeyed, then the German Kaiser got his answer, not only to this new law he had made for us, but to many other thoughts of his.  Yet the answer was for some time delayed.

There was a bitter Sunday, and its bitterness went everywhere, to every place in the whole world that held high and generous hearts.  Its bitterness came to the special meeting in the “Frat hall,” where there were hearts, indeed, of that right sort, and one of them became vocal in its bitterness.  This was the heart of Fred Mitchell, who was now an authority, being president of the Junior Class, chairman of the Prom Committee, and other things pleasant to be and to live for at his age.

“For me, Brothers,” he said, “I’d think I’d a great deal rather have been shot through the head than heard the news from Washington to-day!  I tell you, I’ve spent the meanest afternoon I ever did in my life, and I guess it’s been pretty much the same with all of us.  The worst of it is, it looks as though there isn’t a thing in the world we can do.  The country’s been betrayed by a few blatherskites and boneheads that had the power to do it, and all we can do we’ve just got to stand it.  But there’s some Americans that aren’t just standing it, and I want to tell you a lot of ’em are men from the universities, just like us.  They’re over there right now; they haven’t said much—­they just packed up and went.  They’re flying for France and for England and for Canada; they’re fighting under every flag on the right side of the Western Front; and they’re driving ambulances at Verdun and ammunition trucks at the Somme.  Well, there’s going to be a lot more American