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.
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