the benefit of their effort is for all? A first mate with knotted club
seems necessary; and the dread of getting "the bounce" Saturday night
holds many a worker to his place.

Advertise for a stenographer, and nine out of ten who apply can
neither spell nor punctuate--and do not think it necessary to.

Can such a one write a letter to Garcia?

"You see that bookkeeper," said a foreman to me in a large factory.

"Yes; what about him?"

[Sidenote: _Who wants a man like this?_]

"Well, he's a fine accountant, but if I'd send him up-town on an
errand, he might accomplish the errand all right, and on the other
hand, might stop at four saloons on the way, and when he got to Main
Street would forget what he had been sent for."

Can such a man be entrusted to carry a message to Garcia?

We have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy expressed for the
"downtrodden denizens of the sweat-shop" and the "homeless wanderer
searching for honest employment," and with it all often go many hard
words for the men in power.

[Sidenote: _The weeding-out process_]

Nothing is said about the employer who grows old before his time in a
vain attempt to get frowsy ne'er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and
his long, patient striving with "help" that does nothing but loaf when
his back is turned. In every store and factory there is a constant
weeding-out process going on. The employer is continually sending away
"help" that have shown their incapacity to further the interests of
the business, and others are being taken on.

[Sidenote: _This man says times are scarce_]

No matter how good times are, this sorting continues: only if times
are hard and work is scarce, the sorting is done finer--but out and
forever out the incompetent and unworthy go. It is the survival of the
fittest. Self-interest prompts every employer to keep the best--those
who can carry a message to Garcia.

I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability to
manage a business of his own, and yet who is absolutely worthless to
any one else, because he carries with him constantly the insane
suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intending to oppress,
him. He can not give orders; and he will not receive them. Should a
message be given him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably be,
"Take it yourself!"

[Sidenote: _A spiritual cripple_]

Tonight this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind
whistling through his threadbare