_Injurious Employment._ The work in which the immigrant is generally employed helps keep him un-American. He has no opportunity to know America or to know Americans. Much of the work is wearying and disheartening. Men bound for the coal mines are packed in cars and hurried away, often through the night, to the distant coal fields; underground all day and sleeping in wretched quarters above ground at night, they have little opportunity to see or know anything of their adopted land. I stepped up to a stone house alongside a railroad excavation in the country part of Connecticut once to have a look at the occupants. There were two floors in the old tumble-down house and both were packed with mattresses and makeshifts for beds until practically the whole floor space was covered. It was a wet day and all the men were crowded indoors. A handsome young fellow lay sick on one of the mattresses. I put my head in the door and said: “_Io parlo un poco Italiano ma non bene._” “I speak a little Italian, but not well.” Immediately there was a laugh, probably at the “not well,” and they rose to greet me as courteously as if all were trained gentlemen. The sick boy began to talk and the group was friendly with me in a moment. The day will come when we shall find that these people can do something other than dig ditches and mix concrete. The Italians who are now employed as our hewers of wood and drawers of water, are of the race of painters and sculptors and silk makers of earlier days. We must help the immigrant to overcome his bad neighbors, and to know who are his true friends. IX NEIGHBORS TO THE WORLD For lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day; The saints triumphant rise in bright array; The King of glory passes on His way. From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast, Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host, Singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost, “Hallelujah, Hallelujah!” IX NEIGHBORS TO THE WORLD THOSE WHO GO BACK. “Do these immigrants ever go back home?” asks some one. “If I went away from home and made my fortune I would want to go back home to spend it.” I am glad to hear that question and some of you may be surprised at the answer. We have all heard of the incoming immigrant army, and small wonder when we know that in some years it numbers over a million human beings. But we have heard little about the returning army. How large is it? How many of our immigrant neighbors prefer to spend their savings at home? How many go home because fortune has not smiled upon them in America, or because their mothers write, “I am getting old and it is very lonesome with my son far across the sea”?