or futile reckonings. There will be time enough
for that when the war is won, and won it shall be, no matter what the
cost. It requires no great perspicacity to realize that our total
national debt will be a sum which rolls so easily on its ciphers that it
eludes the grasp of the average mind. It is going to cost a lot even to
keep the wheels greased at five and one-half per cent. from year to year.
Everybody knows it. _Win the War!_

When the lamp went out and the old world we had known blew up--away back
in 1914--we spagged about anxiously, calling to each other: "Business as
Usual!" Since then factory production has gone up fifty per cent.;
export trade a hundred; profits on capital all the way up to the
billion-and-a-quarter mark. We have got so used to things in four years
that there is danger of forgetting that War has driven a sap beneath
these ironical gifts of Mars and it is full time Business looked around
for a place to light and got ready to dig itself in.

Mobilization, co-operation of every interest, the full grapple of every
individual--national effort, in short--these the State demands. The
coverlet has been thrown back upon the realization that the State has
claims upon each citizen which transcend his individual fortunes--that
individual prosperity, in fact, is entirely dependent upon the prosperity
of the national whole.

Not all by himself can the Man Behind The Gun win a war like this. At
his heels must stand the munition workers, the Man Back of The Desk, the
people themselves, each guarding against waste and each contributing his
or her part, great or small, for that national economy which alone can
hope to sustain the terrific pace that victory demands. Finally, out in
the great open spaces, faithful and unassuming and backing his country to
the limit, must plod the Man Behind The Plow, working silently and
steadily from dawn till dark to enlist and re-enlist the horizoned acres.

Canada has reason for pride in her farmers. No class is more loyal to
British traditions. No class is more determined to win this war.
Thousands of their sons are at the front. Many a lonely mother has stood
on a prairie knoll, straining her eyes for the last glimpse of the buggy
and bravely waving "God-speed." In many a windswept prairie farm home
reigns the sad pride of sacrifice.

Out of the sanctifying fires is arising a national tendency to new
viewpoints. The hope of Canada lies in a more active