e dumping-ground for foreign
vagabondism. But for the hard-working and industrious people who come
here, do not let us build up any wall around New York harbor to keep
them out, or it will after a while fall down with a red-hot thunderburst
of God's indignation. Suppose you are a father, and you have five
children. One is named Philip, and Philip says to his brothers and
sisters: "Now, John, you go and live in the small room at the end of the
hall. George, you go and stay up in the garret. Mary, you go and live in
the cellar, and Fannie, you go and live in the kitchen, and don't any of
you come out. I am Philip, and will occupy the parlor; I like it; I like
the lambrequins at the window, and I like the pictures on the wall. I am
Philip, and, being Philip, the parlor shall only be for the Philipians."
You, the father, come home, and you say: "Fannie, what are you doing in
the kitchen? Come out of there." And you say to Mary, "Mary, come out of
that cellar." And you say to John, "John, don't stay shut up in that
small room. Come out of there." And you say to George, "George, come
down out of that garret." And you say to the children, "This is my
house. You can go anywhere in it that you want to." And you go and haul
Philip out of the parlor, and you tell him that his brothers and sisters
have just as much right in there as he has, and that they are all to
enjoy it. Now, God is our Father, and this world is a house of several
rooms, and God has at least five children--the North American continent,
the South American continent, the Asiatic continent, the European
continent, and the African continent. The North American continent
sneaks away, and says: "I prefer the parlor. You South Americans,
Asiatics, Europeans, and Africans, you stay in your own rooms; this is
the place for me; I prefer it, and I am going to stay in the parlor; I
like the front windows facing on the Atlantic, and the side windows
facing on the Pacific, and the nice piazza on the south where the sun
shines, and the glorious view from the piazza to the north." And God,
the Father, comes in and sends thunder and lightning through the house,
and says to his son, the American continent: "You are no more my child
than are all these others, and they have just as much right to enjoy
this part of my house as you have."

It will be a great day for the health of our American atmosphere when
this race prejudice is buried in the earth. Come, bring your spades, and
le