gh calm resolve was in George Stairs's gift that
day, he suffered no complaisance; and, by this time, he held that great
assembly in the hollow of his hand. It was then he dealt with the
character of our own century, as distinguished from that of the
Victorian era. It was then his words taught me, personally, more than
all he had said besides.

I will not quote from a passage which has been incorporated in hundreds
of school-books. It is generally admitted that the end and purpose
underlying the civil and national code of our age has never since been
more admirably stated than on the day of its first enunciation in the
Albert Hall by George Stairs. His words were glowing when he showed us
how the key-note of our fathers' age had been the claiming and
establishing of rights and privileges. His words stung like whip-thongs
when he depicted our greedy, self-satisfied enjoyment of those rights
and privileges, with never a thought, either of the various obligations
pertaining to them, or of our plain duty in the conservation for our
children of all that had been won for us. Finally, his words were living
fire of incentive, red wine of stimulation, when he urged upon us the
twentieth-century watchword of Duty, and the loyal discharge of
obligations.

"Theirs, an age crowned by well-won triumph, was the century of claimant
demand; ours is the century of grateful obedience. Theirs was the age of
claims; ours the age of Duty. Theirs the century of rights; ours the
century of Duty. Theirs the period of brave, insistent constructive
effort; ours the period of Duty--Duty--Duty!

"In fighting to obtain all that they won for us, our fathers pledged
themselves--and us--to be fit recipients, true freemen. For a moment,
misled by the glare of wealth and pleasure, we have played the
caitiff's part; grasped freemen's privileges, without thanks, and with
repudiation of the balancing duties and obligations without which no
rights can survive. And--'Behold, the days come that I will cut off
thine arm!'

"The God of our fathers trusted them, in our behalf; and we played
traitor. So God smote England, through the arrogant war-lords of another
people. That blow, self-administered, is Heaven's last warning to
England. In truth, the blow was ours, yours and mine; we ourselves it
was who played the traitor and struck a cruel blow at Britain's heart.
Unworthy sons of valiant sires, we snatched our wages and shirked our
work; seized the reward