own. And all your Science
you have turned to the efficient slaughter of men. In a week of your
boasted calmness you have plunged the world into a violence beside which
all the bloodshed in our strikes and revolutions seems like a pool
beside the sea. And so you have failed, you powers above, blindly and
stupidly you have failed. For you have let loose a violence where you
are weak and we are strong. We are these armies that you have called
out. And before we go back to our homes we shall make sure that these
homes of ours shall no more become ashes at your will. For we shall stop
this war of yours and in our minds we shall put away all hatred of our
brother men. For us they will be workers all. With them we shall rise
and rise again--until at last the world is free!"

The voice had ceased--and again I was walking by myself along a crowded
tenement street. Immigrants from Europe, brothers, sons and fathers of
the men now in the camps, kept passing me along the way. As I looked
into their faces I saw no hope for Europe there. Such men could take and
hold no world. But then I remembered how in the strike, out of just such
men as these, I had seen a giant slowly born. Would that crowd spirit
rise again? Could it be that the time was near when this last and
mightiest of the gods would rise and take the world in his hands?

* * * * *

At home I found Eleanore asleep. For a time I sat at my desk and made
some notes for my writing. I read and smoked for a little, then
undressed and went to bed. But still I lay there wide awake--thinking of
this home of mine and of where I might be in a few months more, in this
year that no man can see beyond. For all the changes in the world seemed
gathering in a cyclone now.

I was nearly asleep when I was roused by a thick voice from the harbor.
Low in the distance, deep but now rising blast on blast, its waves of
sound beat into the city--into millions of ears of sleepers and
watchers, the well, the sick and the dying, the dead, the lovers, the
schemers, the dreamers, the toilers, the spenders and wasters. I shut my
eyes and saw the huge liner on which Joe was sailing moving slowly out
of its slip. Down at its bottom men shoveling coal to the clang of its
gong. On the decks above them, hundreds of cabins and suites de
luxe--most of them dark and empty now. Bellowing impatiently as it swept
out into the stream, it seemed to be saying:

"Make way for me. Mak