It does not matter what is the form of his work. It does not even matter whether it is serious and pretentious. It affects the thought and, therefore, the life of the world. A printed jest once determined the result of a national election. A derisive term applied by the editor of an enemy paper once elected a man president. The recorded and unrecorded history of every age is full of just such instances. The writer accepts a momentous responsibility. It is desirable to receive editorial checks, but his work means vastly more than that. The people will read what he writes; many of them will believe it; at least some of them will act upon it. It will travel to unsuspected places, and it will affect the lives of those whom he will never see either for weal or woe. His pen is an instrument of fate. It is highly essential that he use it with a careful hand and with an honest purpose. He dare not fail to be a mouthpiece of truth. The Message of the Washington Monument (1919) A few minutes from the South Portico of the White House, overlooking the majestic sweep of the Potomac, stands the tallest piece of marble masonry in the world. It commemorates the life and deeds of the Father of His Country. At its foot is a good place to stand and think for a while, as I did one spring afternoon. The architect who planned the Washington Monument could not have more fittingly characterized the man of whom it stands as a memorial. Every line of its vast form, stretching from the ground to more than six hundred feet above the level of the river, breathes the spirit of the statesman and soldier whose leadership is an essential part of our early history. That long stretch of Maryland marble, capped with its apex of aluminum, does more, however, than to memorialize and interpret the character of Washington; it outlines the essential qualities of our people. They were well typified in Washington. They are, therefore, well typified in a monument which symbolizes his nature. It is at once a picture of their past and a prophecy of their future. It combines simple plainness with rugged strength. One cannot look at it without thinking of the spirit of the pioneer. The picture of the pilgrims facing the dangers of an unknown wilderness, that of the embattled farmers at Concord, and that of the men who have borne the burdens of the Republic throughout the years each rises into view. We have had hard tests in the past. We are facing what may yet be harder ones in the future. No other spirit than that of simple, rugged Americanism could prove sufficient for either those past or those to come.