Los Angeles herald., 1910-12-18
LUKE NoRTH'S EPIsTLE
TO GEN. LEONARD WOOD


season of the feast of Him who taught
peace on earth, out of the lano Oh 'no
south where mon fear not to die or 10
live; These presents to the war lord OIL
the nation.
Fear not, mighty commander. stay
those hot words OF terror and vain
urgings for war preparedness until az
ter Christmas. Peace to the ashes OF
thy noble ancestors. This then Is our
prayer: May heaven forfend their nom
orable tombs from pagan hands-and II
heaven won't we will Intercessions
for their continued repose shall mingle
with the obsequious prayers of tax
payers as they lift their humble hearts
to the juggling government that agi-
tates peace congresses with one side OF
it's face and with the other incites to
fresh contracts for navy steel interests
/ and war muuition trusts-if you'll only
keep quiet till after the holidays.
May peace come to thee, gallant war
rior. May the white dove roost on thy
doorpost and it's cooling calm thy trou-
bled soul. May halcyon harmonies
from department store bargain counters
lull thee to restful hours and abide
with thee even unto the dark days that
may elapse between the lurid columns
of press agency alarums in which Gen.
eral Wood tells how to save the nation
of its immanent peril from a foreign
foel
May angels of peace wipe the sweat
of blood from thy serrted brow, brave
soldieri and the merry voice of little
children be waited to thy carnage
loving ears. May such plentitudes OF
emo1umentary muniflcence as might be
analogous to substantial contract rake
offs calm thy troubled spirit and quiet
the turmoil of thy raging bosom-ere
thou hast frightened a meanwhile brave
and busy people into conniption fits, or
busted blood vessel in thine own fear
SCARED substantially.
This, then. is the joy Of them whose
toll pays for war equipment and bat
tleships; that human thought may not
conceive a brave soldier and gallant
general turmoiled by the mercenaries OF
war ration beef contractors; nor as a
willing guest in gold braid and epaulet
at the ambassadors ball where the diz-
zy JOY waters OF the epulary concur
renee are brewed of the sweat and
blood of many who pay the bills. Even
as the preacher with his sacred cross
and script, so standetL the hero soldier
true to his sword and a bitter foe to the
pettiness of the market place. Side by
each tower warrior and cleric, their
heads high and their consciences i'm
maculate from the worldly embroil-
ments of those fiduciary susceptibilities
that hold In leash the thronG of laymen.
And that is the pride of the toilers
whose penny pays the bills. And this
is their word to you, brave guardians
OF the nations honor:
Fear not. No harm shall come.
When lands the foreign foe a million
bold yoemanry will leave the tariff
protected homes to stand a solid wall
between the base yellow pagan
and the red Christian general. Not a
hair of thy head shall be harmed, nor
bone of thy honorable ancestors dis
turbed. Not a stitch of gold braid
shall be plucked from that beautiful
dress parade coat. A million families
are ready to mortgage their wedding
rings and pawn their parlor grapha-
phones to pay the eneny's cost of re-
pulsion or mis- victorious extortion, ere
single silken Persian rug be touched
in thy modest warrior tent.
o, the nation will bleed freely for
thee, General Wood-Qt is just that
sort of a fooD-once the foreign foe
appear. Let him come. Thou shalt
see heaps of corpses piled higher and
deeper than they piled 'em in the Phil
ippine trenches, brave general, ere the
bullet of a foeman desecrate thy hy-
postatic corporeality. Sleep soundfy,
general. Ais we'll today. Let the
people toll awhile: Wall street hath
not its need of toll. Blood may flow
in America soon enough!
Behold how fear stalketh in the night
and stealeth the heart of the brave.
Even them that walk in the righteous
ness of sword and mauser rife yet
cringe in terror Of the foreign foe, and
their wild alarums ring out to jar the
holiday shopping of a peaceful land
In scare headlines and double-leaded
nonpareil.
Peace be with thee. general. The
giant slumbers. Let him sleep. The
mighty many care damn little for thy
toy swords and fiagships. Their hands
are on the plough and the shuttle.
Teach them not the Joy Of human
slaughter, lest thy paymasters and thy
self should rue the lesson.
These, then, are my presents, and
hereunto / have set my pen and hand.
LUKE.