I was told about a professor who was brought before the chancellor, upon the charge of having destroyed the religious faith of one of his students. The boy’s father had complained, and it developed that the professor, in a private talk with the boy, had been asked and had answered questions about the divinity of Jesus. There was a solemn council of the chancellor, the dean, and all the professors in this department, and the chancellor drew up a statement for the professors to sign, to the effect that they would do everything in their power to avoid tampering with the religious faith of the students. They refused; the utmost they were willing to sign was an agreement that they would not go out of their way to tamper with the religious faith of their students. These men, of course, are teaching the scientific method, which is incompatible with revelation; they know it, and the chancellor knows it; all he asks is to avoid trouble with parents and interlocking trustees who are making money out of the system of private monopoly, and wish to keep the thoughts of their wage-slaves upon their future heaven and off their present hell. A friend of mine tells me that, at the time of the Braddock shootings the Pittsburgh professors “talked like Bolsheviks”—but only among themselves! When it comes to public talking, that is attended to by people like Mayor Garland, a former trustee, who at a big meeting of faculty, students and alumni declared that “in a community like Pittsburgh, which depends upon a high tariff for its prosperity, it would be very wrong for any professor to advocate free trade.” A friend of mine asks: “Was he joking?” I answer that one might as well expect to hear a convocation of Catholic prelates joking about the Immaculate Conception. And while we are in this neighborhood we ought to make note of the curious experience of Prof. G. F. Gundelfinger, author of “Ten Years at Yale,” who was assistant professor of mathematics at the Carnegie Institute of Technology, and wrote a personal letter to the president protesting against an indecent orgy of the students, publicly conducted and led by the president. The letter was sent to the president’s home, and was opened by his wife; Professor Gundelfinger was fired a few days later. He made a public fight, and the trustees dismissed the president—but they did not take Professor Gundelfinger back! CHAPTER LVII THE UNIVERSITY OF HEAVEN We travel to Buffalo by the Pennsylvania Railroad, and from Buffalo we continue our journey by way of the New York Central Railroad, which has a Columbia trustee and a Cornell trustee and a Rochester trustee for directors, a recent Yale and New York University trustee for director, a Lake Erie College trustee for vice-president, a Guaranty Trust director and two National City Bank directors; and so we arrive at the University of Heaven, which has God Almighty for a director.