Being unable to formulate these longings, the laborer limits his demands to the two things which the walking delegate tells him are the only things necessary—shorter hours and more pay. When he gets them the real need of his being remains untouched and he repeats his demand. When his employer seeks to do something for him, instead of _doing something together with him_, he resents both his charity and his sympathy, and spurns his advice. Men who are required to deal with men ought to give primary study to human nature, and omit the study of angelic nature until they join the angels. Suppose we continue this analysis of human nature for therein we may find the seed of truth that shall, if nurtured, fructify in blessing to us all. A few years ago the Chamber of Commerce of one of our very large cities gave a Lincoln Day Banquet at which the speaker of the House of Representatives of Congress was the guest of honor. Among other wise philosophies that fell from his lips was this: “I do not know your personal genesis but I will guess that less than fifty years ago nine out of ten of the intelligent, virile leaders of production, who own and represent capital, as well as the high officials of your state, and of the nation, who sit at this table, were bright-faced schoolboys in the common schools, ‘building castles in Spain.’ If this Chamber shall repeat this banquet a half century hence, you can find your successors in the public schools of today ‘building castles in Spain.’” The thought I gather is not the trite expression that “The youth of today is the adult of tomorrow,” nor that the public school is the nursery of greatness. The thought I get is that he who is destined to achieve prominence in any walk of life is the youth who “builds castles in Spain,” who imagines, who hopes, and who goes out to fight for the fulfillment of his dreams. What is the probability of a man who cannot speak the English language, and who receives nothing more tangible than a pay envelope and its contents, handed to him by number, sitting by the cot of his son and inspiring the imagination of the coming American? If he says anything, is he not likely to say—are there not a million homes where this is the only appropriate thing that can be said: “My boy, I am sorry that I brought you into the world. I see nothing in life for you. The future is not only dumb but awful dark.” The kind of men who made this country were told a different story at their trundle beds. They were inspired with hope, for their parents were full of hope. They were filled with expectation, for they knew their parents were expectant. If we revive contented, hopeful Americanism we must inspire “castle building.” We must fill the youth with hope and whet his imagination to keenest edge until he will intuitively seek literature instead of twaddle with which to express his aspiration.