These prophecies have not been fulfilled. We have had no panic, not even when the Bank of England reserve fell to the lowest point for many a year, not even when the rate rose swiftly to ten per cent. Thousands of our great business men have not been ruined. These are facts, not theories. They are realizations, not predictions. So far from there having been a panic, it has been very difficult at times, as all acute observers will testify, to realize that this country was at last engaged in a life and death struggle. It was prophesied, too, and with no doubts or hesitation, that the numbers of men thrown out of employment would be so great, that drastic martial law would have to be resorted to. These predictions also have not been justified. The percentage of employment has steadily risen, and this nation has pursued its affairs and avocations calmly under normal police law. If we are to learn deep and lasting lessons from experience, this experience is of vastly greater value than theory. In Germany and in France also we see vast accumulations of gold, in comparison with which our own gold reserves are puny. Yet we not only raised immense war loans at a high price, but have helped other countries with loans, while our burdens were increased with the heavier taxes imposed upon us. True it is that but for our navy, circumstances might have been greatly different. But had our navy been sunk, had Germany acquired undisputed mastery of the sea, had she been able to starve us, then no gold reserves, even though mountains high, would have saved us. The country could not live on gold alone. It would have perished, and its banking system with it. We cannot wage a life and death struggle with gold alone, nor with credit alone. But when the former prophecies were made, no account was made of the navy. The panic was to come independently of the navy’s power. The public, the moment war was declared, would realize that the gold reserves were inadequate, they would clamour for gold, the banks would close, and in a day or two the money market would be a deserted, silent place, stricken and devastated like some of the cities of Belgium. Why did not this come to pass? Why were the prophets not trusty seers? It is said that the bankers met in conference to consider and exchange opinions upon the position. They knew well enough that they were no magicians, nor even ordinary conjurors. They knew they could not make gold out of nothing. What, then, could they do? Whether or not their consciences smote them I know not. Whether or not they bitterly repented and lamented the poverty of their gold reserves I know not. Whether or not they said to each other, in a hopeless, perplexed way: “I told you so,” I know not. All I do know is that a saviour came, a _deux ex machina_, that he was received with open arms, welcomed with fervid gratitude, perhaps with tears, that he was venerated, and that some to-day, in their profound gratitude, would make him a duke.