The Independence Day Horror
at Killsbury

BOSTON HARBOR STYLE.

The Independence Day
Horror
At Killsbury

By Asenath Carver Coolidge
Author of “The Modern Blessing, Fire”
and many other short stories
and poems

Illustrated by
Cassius M. Coolidge

Watertown, N. Y.:
Hungerford-Holbrook Company.
1905

Copyrighted 1905
By Asenath Carver Coolidge

Published April, 1905

HUNGERFORD-HOLBROOK CO.,
WATERTOWN, N. Y.

Dedicated
To my Grandmother, Asenath Carver Townsend
a descendent of John and Mary Carver
who came to America to escape persecution
for their religious belief
which would not permit
them to countenance war
or its vain-glorious
celebrations

Preface

The world is a dangerous place to live in, especially for helpless and innocent children. Wise parents are sadly aware of this fact and have always been striving to make it less dangerous. That this was no small task even in the beginning is easy enough to be seen; for there were poison fruits and reptiles and savage beasts to contend with; but it was light indeed compared with the parental task of today, when the monsters of militarism and greed are abroad, planting their danger-traps in the pathway of unwary feet.

In our own country Independence Day has proved to be their golden harvest. The freedom given to small boys on this day makes them easy victims to the tempters’ wiles, who under the treacherous guise of patriotism have seized upon them more and more every year, until the list of the dead and wounded has assumed appalling proportions. Still there is little talk of doing away with this hideous slaughter; while there is “big talk” about “race suicide,” and an appeal to mothers to bring forth more sons to supply the nation’s need.

The nation’s need! What need, we ask in God’s name, has this nation of three or four thousand boys to sacrifice annually on our country’s altar? Let the mothers answer. Let them demand that this country be made a fit place for children to live in. That the ten million now spent annually for their destruction, be used for their benefit. If only one half of this amount were used rightly what a change would come over the face of this continent! Every town, however small, would have its pretty park for the children to play in without fear and trembling. There would be flowers and music—true and gentle music that takes the savagery out of the human heart instead of filling it with savage impulses. Music that would not drown the voices of the birds, but inspire them to sing their rarest songs. Music that would not wound the ears of the tenderest babes but seem to them like a mother’s softest lullaby; to which it is easy to fancy that God’s birds, the angels, are delighted to listen.

Asenath Carver Coolidge.

Antwerp, N. Y., April, 1905.

CONTENTS