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The Little Iron Soldier
by
Aminadab sighed heavily, and his heart sank within him; but he thought of his dream, and remained steadfast. Presently he heard heavy steps and the tapping of a cane on the stairs; and as the door opened he saw the drab surtout of the worthy and much-esteemed friend who sat beside him at the head of the meeting.
“How’s thee do, Aminadab?” said he. “Thee’s voted, I suppose?”
“No, Jacob,” said he; “I don’t like the candidate. I can’t see my way clear to vote for a warrior.”
“Well, but thee does n’t vote for him because he is a warrior, Aminadab,” argued the other; “thee votes for him as a tariff man and an encourager of home industry. I don’t like his wars and fightings better than thee does; but I’m told he’s an honest man, and that he disapproves of war in the abstract, although he has been brought up to the business. If thee feels tender about the matter, I don’t like to urge thee; but it really seems to me thee had better vote. Times have been rather hard, thou knows; and if by voting at this election we can make business matters easier, I don’t see how we can justify ourselves in staying at home. Thou knows we have a command to be diligent in business as well as fervent in spirit, and that the Apostle accounted him who provided not for his own household worse than an infidel. I think it important to maintain on all proper occasions our Gospel testimony against wars and fightings; but there is such a thing as going to extremes, thou knows, and becoming over-scrupulous, as I think thou art in this case. It is said, thou knows, in Ecclesiastes, ‘Be not righteous overmuch: why shouldst thou destroy thyself?'”
“Ah,” said Aminadab to himself, “that’s what the little iron soldier said in meeting.” So he was strengthened in his resolution, and the persuasions of his friend were lost upon him.
At night Aminadab sat by his parlor fire, comfortable alike in his inner and his outer man. “Well, Hannah,” said he, “I’ve taken thy advice. I did n’t vote for the great fighter to-day.”
“I’m glad of it,” said the good woman, “and I dare say thee feels the better for it.”
Aminadab Ivison slept soundly that night, and saw no more of the little iron soldier.