second, that he may help others. I think all people should be
taught never, under any circumstances, if by any possibility they
can avoid it, to become a burden. Every one should be taught the
nobility of labor, the heroism and splendor of honest effort. As
long as it is considered disgraceful to labor, or aristocratic not
to labor, the world will be filled with idleness and crime, and
with every possible moral deformity.

_Question_. Has the public school system anything to do with the
army of pupils who, after six years of study, willingly accept the
injustice and hardship imposed by capital?

_Answer_. The great trouble with the public school is that many
things are taught that are of no immediate use. I believe in manual
training schools. I believe in the kindergarten system. Every
person ought to be taught how to do something--ought to be taught
the use of their hands. They should endeavor to put in palpable
form the ideas that they gain. Such an education gives them a
confidence in themselves, a confidence in the future--gives them
a spirit and feeling of independence that they do not now have.
Men go through college studying for many years, and when graduated
have not the slightest conception of how to make a living in any
department of human effort. Thousands of them are to-day doing
manual labor and doing it very poorly, whereas, if they had been
taught the use of tools, the use of their hands, they would derive
a certain pleasure from their work. It is splendid to do anything
well. One can be just as poetic working with iron and wood as
working with words and colors.

_Question_. What ought to be done, or what is to be the end?

_Answer_. The great thing is for the people to know the facts.
There are thousands and millions of splendid and sympathetic people
who would willingly help, if they only knew; but they go through
the world in such a way that they know but little of it. They go
to their place of business; they stay in their offices for a few
hours; they go home; they spend the evening there or at a club;
they come in contact with the well-to-do, with the successful, with
the satisfied, and they know nothing of the thousands and millions
on every side. They have not the least idea how the world lives,
how it works, how it suffers. They read, of course, now and then,
some paragraph in which the misfortune of some wretch is set forth,
but the wretch is a kind of steel engraving, an