clear that the great fight would not be along strictly party lines, but would be between preparedness enthusiasts and pacifist enthusiasts, whatever the real motives of each might be. Many in both camps were accused of thinking more of political advantage than of national honor, while the large majority of the people were earnest in their deep desire for effective national preparedness.

Since the party in power, however, lacked as a rule "articulate expression of a sufficiently forcible character to stimulate the national legislators to action" the burden of inspiring the public "to an unmistakable utterance of its will in the matter" was placed upon the President. His large personal popularity, together with his eloquence and logic, was employed to induce the people to overcome the apathetic indifference, the unreasonable hostility, and the selfish partisanship exhibited in Congress, in order that the matter of our national defenses might be settled as soon as possible.

The President, therefore, decided to take the issue to the people. More than once in his fight for the New Freedom, did he threaten to take the issue of the moment to the people. But, somehow, Congress acted in time to the satisfaction of the nation. But now there was too much confusion, too many discordant voices, and this was Mr. Wilson's method of clarifying the atmosphere.

CHAPTER XVII

THE PRESIDENT TAKES THE ISSUE TO THE PEOPLE

It was on January 27, 1916, that Mr. Wilson left the White House to tell the people of the East and the West of the confusion in Washington and the pressing need of the hour. The first stop in his itinerary was New York. Everybody who wishes to be heard in America, sooner or later, goes to New York. That city is so vocal, perhaps, because it is so provincial. Anyway, New York was the President's first point of attack, since it was virtually the home of every society that was working for or against the President's program.

There, he made four speeches, to business men who were for preparedness; to ministers of the gospel who were for peace; to motion picture men, who were neutral; and to suffragists, who wanted to hear the President. But neither the fraternity, the occupation, nor the politics of the occasion affected his subject. To each group he gave a part of his great theme with sufficient variations to make it applicable to the occasion. And the next day the people of the far West who were already making preparations for his coming read the first installment of

his continued story and became enthusiastic to hear the concluding chapters.

He did not hesitate to tell the people that this nation was in great danger. This was his theme in New York, and he did not depart from it as he journeyed westward. And the corollary to this main theme was patriotism. In fact he was seeking always to reach that center in the heart where patriotism abides in order that it too might become vocal.

After his visit to New York, he returned to Washington and made preparations for his western trip. Pittsburgh was his next point. "New circumstances have arisen which make it necessary for America to defend herself" was the way he opened his campaign in Pennsylvania. But he was in the heart of the steel and iron industry where both business and patriotism were in sympathy with his program.

At Cleveland he pictured two-thirds of the world at war and defined America's duty of the hour. "We have interests that are being slowly drawn into the maelstrom of this tremendous upheaval," he said, and Cleveland's reply was for preparedness.

Leaving Ohio, he drove straight to the center of the German-American population. "I know that you depend on me to keep this nation out of war" was his greeting to Milwaukee. Then he discussed the composite character of the American people; he told the German-Americans to love the land of their birth; and he sympathized with

them over the cloud of suspicion that had rested awhile above the fatherland. But when he appealed to them to be American citizens first, Milwaukee's response was one continuous round of applause, and the Mayor of that city remarked, "This is Milwaukee's answer to the world."

Having touched the heart of the foreign-born population in the great Northwest, he returned by way of Chicago. He reminded' the business men of that city that our commerce has been interfered with, that America's dangers "come from her contacts with the rest of the world" and that we are living in a world on fire and "our house is not fireproof." Then, he assured the champions of preparedness that "we mean business." And Chicago was convinced that it is our duty to prepare at once.

His itinerary next led him across the Mississippi and into the great corn states of the West. He asked the citizens of Iowa who came to hear him at Des Moines if there was really much "indifference and lethargy in the Middle West with regard to the defense of the nation." He had been told so. But he said, "I do not believe it, I am going out to see," and he was given an unmistakable and unequivocal response when he asked Iowans, "Do you wish to have all the world say that the flag of the United States which we love can be stained with impunity?"

Still westward he carried his message until he reached the heart of Kansas, where, it was said, the greatest opposition to his program would be found. At Topeka, he

told the farmers of this great stock and grain country that the world needs the wheat of the Kansas fields and "we have a right to supply the rest of the world with the product of these fields." He warned the West of the dangers to our commerce, and he pointed out the difficulties this nation must overcome in keeping the lines of trade open, and Kansas was full of fight, as the President learned when he turned this sentence, "Kansas has made trouble for everybody that interfered with her liberty or her rights, and if I were to pick out one place which was likely to rise first and get hot first about invasion of the essential principles of American liberty, I certainly would look to Kansas among the first places in the country.'

At Kansas City, the scene at the close of his address was dramatic. Eighteen thousand people, after listening attentively to the close, made such a demonstration that the President, deeply affected by the uncontrolled emotion, stepped to the front and asked the audience if he might lead in singing "America," and a tremendous chorus, it is said, was raised in behalf of,

My country, 'tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing.

The President was now moving eastward again, and the last stop in his itinerary was at St. Louis, where he spoke twice-once for military preparedness, and once for industrial preparedness. His story was completed.