possibly twenty-five millions of them, representing one quarter of the people of the country—­for we may be sure that there are few payments made under these policies that do not actually alleviate suffering.  We have here a colossal aggregate of altruism on the part of the policy-holders, an intangible national asset grander than all the material wealth which it represents; for the sordid element in all these savings is necessarily small.  There is a point in the old story of the gambler on the Mississippi steamboat who listened attentively to the persuasive arguments of a life-insurance agent; he “allowed” that he was willing to bet on almost any kind of game, but declined to take a hand in one where he had to die to win.  It is painful to think of the infinity of petty economies, of all the grievous deprivations, the positive hardships, undergone in so many millions of families, day by day, and year by year, to secure these policies of insurance; but, as Plato said, “the good is difficult.”  There is no heroism where there is no self-sacrifice.  Whoever is disquieted by the growth of “materialism” may be relieved by reflecting that when so many millions of people are denying themselves present enjoyments in order that others may be spared pain in the future, there is such a leaven of high motive among us as may leaven the whole lump.

* * * * *

It would be easy to keep on in this exalted strain, but perhaps it is a little too much in the style of a life-insurance advertisement.  We may correct any such impression, by changing our point of view.  When we consider the difficulties and the hindrances in the way of laying up these savings, while the moral effect of the self-sacrifice hitherto involved is enhanced, the question comes up whether this altruistic exertion can be maintained in the future.  How many of the ten millions of depositors in the savings banks have considered that their rulers at Washington give away every year in military pensions a sum equal to all, and more than all, the income earned by the four billions of dollars in the banks?  When after many years, it seemed that this burden might at last begin to be lightened, it was suddenly increased by the last Congress perhaps thirty millions a year.  Why should so many people scrimp, year in and year out, when the equivalent of all the toil and all the self-denial is thus swept away?

Senator Aldrich has told the country that its affairs could be carried on for three hundred millions of dollars a year less than it now pays.  He is a very competent witness, and no one has contradicted him.  If the attempt had been made, he could perhaps have shown—­he could certainly show now—­that three hundred millions was an understatement.  But this sum is nearly equal to the income earned by the investments of all the savings banks and all the life-insurance companies of the country.  If our rulers had borrowed ten billions of dollars at