you happen to have enough to eat and to wear, you should be discontented.

You should remember that the world's achievements and great changes have all come from discontent, and you should be, in as many ways as possible, a breeder of discontent among the human beings around you.

CLEAN FACE-CLEAN SIDEWALK

The Supreme Court, we are told, decided that a man is not compelled to clean his sidewalk.

The Supreme Court couldn't compel you to wash your face, still you wash it out of respect for your neighbors and yourself.

The same thing ought to apply to your sidewalk.

"Does anyone doubt that imagination, intangible, visionary, without real existence, is the necessary forerunner, the creator of everything that we have worth while?"-Wilbur Wright had that imagination and today the result of his imagination the aeroplane is the most noteworthy thing this generation has produced. [See page 131]

The "Criminal" Class

Did this view of it ever occur to you?

MUCH interest just now in criminals.
Much horror aroused by depravity.

Many plans more or less appropriate for making the air pure.

Many good men, politicians, women and bishops, who spent the summer at the seaside willing now to spend a few days wiping "crime" off the earth.

What is crime? Who are the criminals? Who makes the criminals?

Do criminals viciously and voluntarily arise among us, eager to lead hunted lives, eager to be jailed at intervals, eager to crawl in the dark, dodge policemen, work in stripes and die in shame? Hardly.

Will you kindly and patiently follow the lives, quickly sketched, of a boy and girl?

THE GIRL

Born poor, born in hard luck, her father, or mother, or both, victims of long hours, poor fare, bad air and little leisure.

As a baby she struggles against fate and manages to live while three or four little brothers and sisters die and go back to kind earth.

She crawls around the halls of a tenement, a good deal in the way. She is hunted here and chased there.

She is cold in Winter, ill-fed in Summer, never well cared for.

She gets a little so-called education. Ill-dressed and ashamed beside the other children, she is glad to escape the education. No one at home can help her on. No one away from home cares about her.

She grows up white, sickly, like a potato sprouting in a cellar. At the corner of a fine street she sees the carriages passing with other girls in warm furs, or in fine, cool Summer dresses.

With a poor shawl around her and with heels run down she peers in at the restaurant window, to see other women leading lives very different from hers.

Steadily she has impressed upon her the fact, absolutely undeniable, that as the world is organized there is no especial place for her-certainly no comfort for her.

She finds work, perhaps. Hours as long as the daylight.

Ten minutes late-half a day's fine.

At the end of the day aching feet, aching back, system ill-fed, not enough earned to live upon honestly —and that prospect stretches ahead farther than her poor eyes can see.

"What's the charge, officer?"

"Disorderly conduct, Your Honor."

There's the criminal, good men, politicians, women and bishops, that you are hunting so ardently.

THE BOY

Same story, practically.

He plays on the tenement staircase cuffed off the staircase.