be
sold at all post offices. It was an excellent idea and was immediately
authorised by the Treasury. The Exchequer Bond became part of the
swelling flood of British war securities and might have had a
distinction all its own but for the enterprise and sagacity of one man
who happened to be a member of this Committee.

That man was Sir Hedley Le Bas. You must know his story before you can
go into the part that he played in the great drama of British investment
that is now to be unfolded. A generation ago he was the lustiest lad in
Jersey, his birthplace. His feats as swimmer were the talk of a race
inured to the hardships of the sea. After seven years in the Army he
came to London to make his fortune. From an humble clerical position he
rose to be head of one of the great book publishing houses in Great
Britain, employing over 400 salesmen, spending over a quarter of a
million dollars a year in advertising alone.

Sir Hedley is big of bone, dynamic of personality, more like the alert,
wideawake American business man than almost any other individual I have
ever met in England. One day he gave the British publishing business the
jolt of its long and dignified life by taking a whole page in the _Daily
Mail_ to advertise a single book. His colleagues said it was
"unprofessional," that it violated all precedent. Sir Hedley thought to
the contrary and in vindication of his judgment the book developed into
a "best seller." That pioneer page in the _Mail_ was the first of many.

Prior to the outbreak of the present war, Sir Hedley had been consulted
by the then Minister of War as to the most advisable means of getting
recruits.

"Why don't you advertise?" he asked.

"It's never been done before," replied the Minister.

"Then it's high time to begin," said the hard-headed Jerseyman.

His plan scarcely had time to be considered when the Great War broke.
Sir Hedley was made a member of the Parliamentary Recruiting Committee
and with Kitchener helped to face England's huge problem of raising a
volunteer army. How was it to be done?

Hardly had the new War Chief warmed the chair in his office down in
Whitehall, than Le Bas came to him with this suggestion: "The quickest
way to raise the new army is to advertise for men."

Kitchener's huge bulk straightened: he looked surprised: the idea seemed
unsoldierly, almost unpatriotic. But he knew Le Bas. After a moment's
hesitancy:

"All right. Go ahead."

Under Le Bas was lau