ve
of his hand.

The Philanthropist cleared his throat.

"In our business--" he began.

Mr. Bryan plucked him gently by the sleeve.

"Never mind your business just now," he whispered.

The Philanthropist bowed in assent and continued:

"I will come at once to the subject. My own feeling is
that the true way to end war is to try to spread abroad
in all directions goodwill and brotherly love."

"Hear, hear!" cried the assembled company.

"And the great way to inspire brotherly love all round
is to keep on getting richer and richer till you have so
much money that every one loves you. Money, gentlemen,
is a glorious thing."

At this point, Mr. Norman Angell, who had remained silent
hitherto, raised his head from his chest and murmured
drowsily:

"Money, money, there isn't anything but money. Money is
the only thing there is. Money and property, property
and money. If you destroy it, it is gone; if you smash
it, it isn't there. All the rest is a great illus--"

And with this he dozed off again into silence.

"Our poor Angell is asleep again," said The Lady Pacifist.

Mr. Bryan shook his head.

"He's been that way ever since the war began--sleeps all
the time, and keeps muttering that there isn't any war,
that people only imagine it, in fact that it is all an
illusion. But I fear we are interrupting you," he added,
turning to The Philanthropist.

"I was just saying," continued that gentleman, "that you
can do anything with money. You can stop a war with it
if you have enough of it, in ten minutes. I don't care
what kind of war it is, or what the people are fighting
for, whether they are fighting for conquest or fighting
for their homes and their children. I can stop it, stop
it absolutely by my grip on money, without firing a shot
or incurring the slightest personal danger."

The Philanthropist spoke with the greatest emphasis,
reaching out his hand and clutching his fingers in the
air.

"Yes, gentlemen," he went on, "I am speaking here not of
theories but of facts. This is what I am doing and what
I mean to do. You've no idea how amenable people are,
especially poor people, struggling people, those with
ties and responsibilities, to the grip of money. I went
the other day to a man I know, the head of a bank, where
I keep a little money--just a fraction of what I make,
gentlemen, a mere nothing to me but everything to this
man because he is still not rich and is only fighting
his way up. 'Now,'