of the mountain range, is a tangible witness of international brotherhood. . . . Chile and Argentina have not only created a symbol; they have inculcated into the minds of men for all ages an idea of greater significance than any other in our contemporary age, by erecting that colossal monument to the Christ, with the inscription on its granite pedestal: 'Sooner shall these mountains crumble to dust than Argentines and Chileans break the peace which, at the feet of Christ, the Redeemer, they have sworn to maintain.' On the opposite side of the base are the words of the angels' song over Bethlehem: 'Peace on earth, good-will to all men.' The statue cost about $100,000, and was paid for by popular subscription, the working classes contributing liberally." (Text.)
(2325)
See Christmas; Militarism.
PEACE PACT
When William Penn made his treaty with
the Indians under the spreading branches
of an elm-tree on the banks of the Delaware,
it was not for lands, but for peace
and friendship. "We meet," said Penn, "in
the broad pathway of good faith and good
will; no advantage shall be taken on either
side, but all shall be openness and love. I
will not call you children, for parents sometimes
chide their children too severely; nor
brothers only, for brothers differ. The
friendship between me and you I will not
compare to a chain, for that the rains might
rust, or the falling tree might break. We
are the same as if one man's body were to
be divided into two parts; we are all one
flesh and blood." The Indians replied: "We
will live in love with William Penn and his
children as long as the sun and moon shall
endure."
Such a peace pact does God make
with men; and such a pact ought man
and man, and nation and nation to
make with each other.
(2326)
Peace Predicted—See Age, The New.
PEACEFUL INSTINCT OF SIMIANS
The acquisitive energy of a monkey-swarm
must be witnessed to be credited. In
the banana-gardens of the tierra caliente a
Mexican capuchin monkey will exhaust his
business opportunities with the dispatch of a
Cincinnati bank cashier; but, in his attempt
to reach the Canadian side of the hedge with
a good armful of plunder, so often falls a
victim to the pursuing dogs that monkey-trappers
frequently rent an orchard for the
special purpose of capturing the retreating
marauders. In spite of their mischievous
petulance, nearly all the Old World species
of our four-handed kinsmen are emotionally
sympathetic and ever ready to rescue their
wounded friends at the risk of their own
lives. At the cry of a captured baby baboon
the whole tribe of passionate four-fisters
will rush in regardless of consequences, and
a similar tendency of cooperation may have
given our hairy forefathers a superior chance
of survival and secured their victory in their
struggle for existence against their feline
rivals. Their list of original sins may have
included gluttony, covetousness and violence
of temper, but hardly a penchant for wanton
bloodshed. With the exception of the fox-headed
lemurs and the ultra-stupid marmosets,
nearly all our simian relatives evince
symptoms of a character-trait which might
be defined as an instinctive aversion to
cruelty. Menagerie monkeys indulge their
love of gymnastics by frequent scuffles; but
the sight of a bona fide fight awakens a
chorus of shrieks expressing a general protest
rather than an emotion of fear or even
partizan interest, for in an open arena the
stouter members of the obstreperous community
are sure to rush in and part the
combatants.—Felix Oswald, Popular Science Monthly.
(2327)
PEACEMAKER, THE
Just in the shade of the arena's gate,
They trooped and paused; and to the ranks of eyes
That questioned ere they drove them on to fate,
Steel-swift, steel-steady, did their answers rise—
"I fight to break the tyranny I hate!"
"I come to tear the veil from ancient lies!"
"I seize the odds! Let others share the prize!"
"I fail, that some may conquer, soon or late!"
But one who bore, within that radiant line,
A look as cool as joy, as firm as pain,
And touched his sword, as some rapt village swain
Touches the cup that holds his wedding wine,
Spoke not, until they urged: "What aim is thine?"
"I fight, that none may ever fight again!"
—G. M. Hort, London Nation.
(2328)
