Or she would remind me again of the immense sums we used to spend on hospitals and prisons; or refer to the general change in economics, that inevitable socialization of industry, which had checked waste and increased productivity so much. "We are a rich people, John," she repeated. "So are other nations, for that matter; the world's richer. We have increased our output and lowered our expenses at the same time. One of our big present problems is what to do with our big surplus; we quarrel roundly over that. But meanwhile it is a very poor nation indeed that does not provide full education for its children." I found that the differences in education were both subtle and profound. The babies' experience of group life, as well as the daily return to family life, gave a sure groundwork for the understanding of civics. Their first impressions included other babies; no child grew up with the intensified self-consciousness we used to almost force upon them. In all the early years learning was ceaseless and unconscious. They grew among such carefully chosen surroundings as made it impossible not to learn what was really necessary; and to learn it as squirrels learn the trees--by playing and working in them. They learned the simple beginnings of the world's great trades, led by natural interest and desire, gathering by imitation and asked instruction. I saw nowhere the enforced task; everywhere the eager attention of real interest. "Are they never taught to apply themselves? To concentrate?" I asked. And for answer she showed me the absorbed, breathless concentration of fresh young minds and busy hands. "But they soon tire of these things and want to do something else, do they not?" "Of course. That is natural to childhood. And there is always something else for them to do." "But they are only doing what they like to do--that is no preparation for a life work surely." "We find it an excellent preparation for life work. You see, we all work at what we like now. That is one reason we do so much better work." I had talked on this line before with those who explained the workings of industrial socialism. "Still, as a matter of education," I urged, "is it not necessary for a child to learn to compel himself to work?" "Oh, no," they told me; and, to say truth, convincingly showed me. "Children like to work. If any one does not, we know he is sick." And as I saw more and more of the child-gardens, and sat silently watching for well-spent hours, I found how true this was. The children had around them the carefully planned stimuli of a genuinely educational environment. The work of the world was there, in words of one syllable, as it were; and among wise, courteous, pleasant people, themselves actually doing something, yet always ready to give information when asked.