All forms of human endeavor in material things are, or were at their beginning, speculations. Every ship that goes to sea carries with it a speculation, and leaves another one behind it at Lloyds. Every man who insures his life or his house buys a speculation, and every company that insures him sells one. The farmer speculates when he fertilizes his land, again when he plants his seed, and again when he sells his crop for future delivery, as he often does, before it is planted or before it has matured. The merchant contracts to fill his shelves long before spring arrives; he is speculating. The manufacturer sells to him, speculating on the hope or belief that he will be able to buy the necessary raw material, and again on the labor, the looms and the spindles necessary to make the delivery. In the South the grower of cotton and in Australia the grower of wool are likewise speculating on the probability of a crop and on the price at which they may sell to this manufacturer. It sounds like “this is the house that Jack built” in its endless chain of sequences; a chain, indeed, and one no stronger than its weakest link. Interfere with any part of it, and the whole commercial structure which it binds together falls apart. The grower, the manufacturer, and the merchant _must_ speculate. There was twofold speculation on the part of our great financial barons who built our transcontinental railways, for they had to reckon not only upon the probability of profit in their undertakings but likewise upon the willingness of other speculators--you and I--to assist them by buying a part of the securities which represented the outlay. To be sure it so happened that many of these vast speculations at first proved unsound. Some of them were a little premature; others pushed too far; they brought disaster upon the speculators who had put money into them. And yet who shall say that our great railways have failed to enrich the world and spread the comforts of civilization? “But for a verdant and evergreen faith,” says a recent writer, “salted with the love of risk and adventure for their own sakes, how could mountains be bored and waters bridged? If there were not superstition there could be no religion; if there were not bad speculation there could be no good investment; if there were no wild ventures there would be no brilliantly successful enterprises.”