Suddenly a bolt from the blue fuses all antagonisms into the mad storm which we call 'War.' A good deal of dross will be burnt up, but the pure gold will remain. Out of the collision of national ideals which are right or wrong, heroism and self-sacrifice are born. Out of the commotion of contending ideals, truth, single-eyed, in clear perspective and circular, containing every point of view in its comprehensiveness, will emerge. It is not to the balance of power or the inter-relation of dynastic connexions that we must look for peace, but to the balance of the naked truth and the essential solidarity and brotherhood of man. The Concert of Europe has broken down in discord, the Conductor is rapping out with His baton the true music of humanity, and He insists that we should all recognize the Keynote. The pre-millenarian sees in it all a superhuman interference with the human will which is the prelude to a forcible application of the Divine Will and a millennium of peace and perfection. But when we investigate, we see that there is no mental violence in the coming of the Great War. We are reaping what we sowed. It arises out of logical and adequate causes. It will not end until these causes have been removed. Political excrescences must be sloughed off. Nations will be born or reborn in a day. So war is working the world-fever out of our blood, cleansing our hearts, and making us seriously face life's issues. To get to particulars. We hear much about man-power to-day. It is the last word of the strategist, the first thought of the statesman, and the secret of victory. But who bothered about man-power a few years ago? A Russian peasant in Petrograd, after the Revolution, said to an English press correspondent: 'We shall have fine times in the church now. There will not be so many long prayers for the Czar, the Imperial family, and all the nobility, with a little prayer for the poor peasants at the tail end.' Yet it is the great mass of _men_ which Russia possesses which forms the famous 'steam-roller' upon which so many have placed their hope for the liberation of Europe. It may be that the God of Battles has ordained that in saving Russia, and in part Europe, the Russian people are to save themselves. How was it with us? How many cubic feet of air have our men had to breathe in the wretched and monotonous tenements in which they were compelled to live? Houses must be built that way, I am told, because the land is dear. Who made the land dear and men cheap? Men in many callings could not obtain a living wage. Some weird economic law--'supply and demand' or other phrase—made it impossible to give the worker more! But, suddenly, a struggle for national life is thrust upon us, and there is money enough!