r Mr. Schneider, he sat still amidst the wreck of his desk,
pondering over a famous definition of war given by an American general
named Sherman.

II.

Without waiting to catch the driver's eye, the impetuous idealist
overtook an empty taxi-cab, and jumped into it.

'United Manufacturing, 28th Street,' he called. 'Make it fast.'

On arrival at his destination he found that Mr. C. B. Benjamin was the
president of the United Manufacturing Corporation, which--so a large
calendar stated--was the biggest business of its kind in the universe.
It had more branches, more output, more character, more push than any
other three enterprises in America.

Mr. Benjamin was in, but could be seen only by appointment, so said a
sleek-haired young man of immaculate dress.

'Give him that card, and tell him I want to see him _at once_,' said
Selwyn, with a forcefulness that caused a look of pain to cross the
young man's countenance.

'Please sit down,' he said, 'and I'll see what I can do.'

As a result of his efforts, Selwyn received a summons to go right
in--which he did, going past a number of people who had various big
propositions to put before the big man when they could gain his ear.

'Good-morning, Mr. Selwyn,' said the president, a smartly dressed Jew,
with a shrewd face and an unquestionable dignity of manner. 'You have
returned to America, I see.'

'Yes, Mr. Benjamin. Do you mind if I come right down to business?'

'Mind? How else could I have built up the United Manufacturing
Corporation? Have a cigar?'

'No, thanks. Mr. Benjamin, you wrote my agent that you wanted me to
lecture on the fallacy of war.'

'Sure,' said the president.

'May I ask why?'

Mr. Benjamin removed his spectacles and wiped them carefully. Putting
them on, he surveyed his visitor through them. After that he took them
off again, and winked confidentially. 'Mr. Selwyn,' he chuckled, 'you
ain't a child, and I see that I can't put over any sob stuff with you.
I told your agent I would pay him real money for you to lecture. Well,
take it from me, when the president of the United Manufacturing
Corporation pays out any of his greenbacks he don't expect nothing for
something, eh?'

'I don't understand you--yet,' said Selwyn quietly.

Mr. Benjamin leaned back in his swivel-chair and cut the end of a cigar
with a little silver knife. 'Business,' he said, 'is business, eh?'

'Agreed,' was the terse response. 'I am still waiting to