for and taken to those open piers on the river, where they can
dance with strong, manly grocers, or aldermen even, and where the river
breezes soon bring back a glow to their cheeks. Gentlemen suffering from
obesity have been carried to an old-fashioned woodyard to work, or, if
entirely unskilled, they are given jobs helping plumbers. Hundreds of
desperate children have been rescued from nurse girls, who were
punishing them for romping and shouting, and shackling them in starched
clothing. These children we try to turn loose on the lively East Side,
where they can join in the vigorous games of the slums. Most rewarding
of all, perhaps, are the young men of means who have been saved from
lives of indescribable folly, and who, through the simple abolition of
inherited wealth, have been made into self-supporting, responsible
citizens.

I cannot say more of the League's work in this brief report. But I must
end by admitting that though we have done all we could, the hidden
distress that still exists in rich homes is widespread. Families
continue to engage in poisonous quarrels, idleness and chronic
unemployment remain unabated, and discontent is gradually darkening the
minds of its victims, depriving them of true mental vigor and even of
sleep.

On the good side we have the fact that the nation appears to be roused.
It is not roused very much, but it takes more interest than it once did,
at least. To leave the rich to wrestle with their fortunes, alone and
unaided, as was done in our grandfathers' times, seems unnatural in
ours.

On the other hand, frankly, there is as yet no cure in sight. The
difficulty is to devise legislation which will absorb excess wealth. At
first sight this seems easy, and many new laws have been passed which
the rich themselves have predicted would immediately reduce them to
indigence. But somehow no law has yet done this. So we must just
struggle on.

From Noah to Now

In the days of Father Noah life was sweet--life was sweet.
He played the soft majubal every day.
And for centuries and centuries he never crossed the street,
Much less supposed he'd ever move away.
But times grew bad and men grew bad, all up and down the land,
And the soft majubal got all out of key;
And when the weather changed, besides, 'twas more than he could stand.
So Father Noah he packed and put to sea.

And "Yo-ho-ho," with a mournful howl, said the poor old boy to Ham;
And "Yo-ho-ho," sang Japhet,