Dr. Kinyoun, the Marine Hospital Surgeon in charge, held his ground. Dr. Kinyoun was shortly transferred to Detroit. His successor said there was plague. His successor was shortly transferred to a distant city. Of course, no one now denies that black plague was in San Francisco precisely when Dr. Kinyoun said it was. Even the eminent bankers and merchants who certified that it wasn’t there admit that they were in “error.” It is nowhere denied that there were more than 200 cases. It is nowhere denied that there were more than 100 deaths. Such is the situation that has been imposed upon us by a system that places private profits above human life. Having painfully accumulated the knowledge with which we could combat the great disease, we are unable to apply it because we do not own and therefore cannot manage our own country. “We look with horror on the black plague of the Middle Ages,” said Professor Norton. “The black plague was but a passing cloud, compared with the white plague visitation.” CHAPTER XI IF NOT SOCIALISM—WHAT? I have never seen you, but I know you. Your knuckles are bloody from continued knocking at the door of happiness. The harder you knock, the bloodier your knuckles become. But the door does not open. It stands like an iron gate between you and the desires of your soul. What is the matter with this world? Was it made wrong? Is it a barren spot to which too many have been sent? After Mr. Rockefeller and Mr. Morgan had been sent, should you have been kept? Is this their world and are you an intruder here? You are not an intruder here. You know that. You have as good a right here as anyone else. But perhaps, nevertheless, this world was made wrong? If you had the power to make worlds, could you make a better one? Could you make fairer skies? Could you make greener fields? Could you improve the sun? Could you make better people? Perhaps you could do none of these things? If not, what is the matter with this world? Look at it again. Here it is—spinning beneath your feet as it has spun since the dawn of time, and, never before, since the dawn of time, has it been such a world as it is now. Never before, since the dawn of time, was it so well suited to your purposes as it is now. Your ancestors enjoyed no material thing that they had not wearily created with their hands. You need create nothing with your hands. You need but to touch with the tips of your fingers the iron hands that can make what man could never make so well. Whatever machinery can make, you can have. And, to drive this machinery, you have the forces of the sun, as they come to you in the form of steam and electricity. Make no mistake—good, bad or indifferent as this world may be, it is at least moving. None of your ancestors ever lived in such a world. And none of your descendants will ever live in such a world as we live in to-day.