on this one thing to do, so in this greater struggle the vast complexities of life are overlooked for the sake of a working program of action and a sharp summary. Happiness and morality, beauty and religion, are left to take care of themselves.

It is not from brotherly love that an increased coöperation between the directors and the workers is being established, but because without coöperation the production of wealth is lessened, capital is diminished, and wages are decreased. That coöperation is not secured by telling the laborer to "be good," to remember the nation, and to forget his wage. The capitalist of the past has been indifferent to the welfare of his workers. He has had his mind on individual profit, not on national wealth. If he acts in the future as he has in the past, extracting an immediate high profit at the expense of the worker, and therefore of the national wealth, the control will be taken from him, and will pass over automatically into the hands of the democracy. It rests with the capitalists themselves whether they and their system will survive or whether their function will be taken over by the industrial group and the state. Capital and labor are a permanent institution; but the capitalist, unlike the laborer, is by no means an indispensable unit in the institution. If the capitalist will handle himself in relation to his employees as the French officer does in relation to his men, he can postpone his extinction indefinitely. If he develops a democracy of spirit and attitude, taking less profits and paying higher wages, exercising leadership by intelligence and sympathy, and permitting labor a voice in working conditions, he will remain in partial control of a diminished realm for the immediate future at least. As fast as he fails he will be ousted.

Discipline and responsibility are the essentials for the new life just beginning,

and they rest with equal weight on employer and employee. They are two words which had become unpopular in our recent philosophy of life, because the qualities themselves were out of favor. But the war has revealed their ancient worth under the cake of modernism.

The faults of the English, as I see them, are an almost incorrigible mental torpidness, which is slow to see a new situation and obstinate to move even when seeing it; a deep-rooted belief in the class system; an unconscious arrogance; and a suppression of the emotional life. As the result of these limitations in insight and sympathy, the English race has been backward in the betterment of its own people. It has overworked and underpaid its own sons and daughters till a portion of its population rots in foul slums.

A silent, slow-moving, but determined will, a constancy of purpose, a standard of conduct, often fallen short of, but rather consistently aimed at, are, I think, the saving characteristics of English character. By reason of these virtues,-and they are supreme virtues,-when the English race starts to right a wrong, it goes through with the work to the end. It has now set itself to give justice to its workThe social movement is more surely on its way in England than in any other country of Europe.

ers.

Human history has moved in cycles, and war has often marked the cesura. The French Revolution, the Napoleonic wars, and the invention of machinery altered the face of the world and refashioned its inner life. We are to-day in the presence of an industrial revolution as vast as that of a century ago. We in America shall be wise if we, like England, practise preparedness not only in the obvious surface requirements of dreadnoughts and citizen armies, but in the profound modifications of the social structure and consciousness.