er at Saint Marks," said J.W., "how I had the
wrong end of the argument that night we came from Hightower's address. A
man with a big job like his has to be a pretty big man, and he needs all
the education he can get."

"There's a principle in that, J.W.," suggested Mr. Drury; "see if this
seems a reasonable way to state it: In dealing with any people, the
more needy they are, the better equipped and trained their leaders
should be."

"Yes, sir, it sounds reasonable enough," J.W. admitted. "And yet I never
thought of it until now. But you said something the other night that I
don't see yet."

"That may be no fault of yours, my boy," said the minister, with a
laugh. "What was it?"

"Why, you said men like Hightower are inclined to overlook the work of
the church, and that it was the church's own fault; something about
raising new questions when you settle old ones."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Drury, "I remember. Maybe saying it's the church's
own fault is not just the way to put it. Say instead that you can't
educate children, nor yet races that are developing, and expect them to
turn out exactly according to your notions of the future. Because, when
their minds are growing they are developing, not according to something
in you, but according to something in them. So every teacher, and I
suppose every parent, has moments of wondering how it ever happens that
young people learn so much that is not taught them. And it's the same
way with races."

"You mean," inquired J.W., "that Hightower is like that?"

"I mean," Pastor Drury replied, "that everybody is like that. If we had
given the Negro no education at all, we could probably have kept him
contented for a good many years with just being 'free.' If we had given
no Negro anything but a common-school chance, the race would have been
pretty slow to develop discontent. But Hightower went to Yale, and Du
Bois went to Harvard and Germany, and Pickens went to Yale, and so on.
Thousands of colored men and women have been graduated from colleges of
liberal arts. And so they are not satisfied with conditions which would
have been heavenly bliss to their grandfathers and grandmothers."

"I know I'm stupid," said J.W., a trifle ruefully, "but I've always
supposed that education was good for everybody. Now you seem to say that
education makes people discontented."

"Of course it does," said Mr. Drury, "that's the reason it is good for
them. Would you be content to call a one-roo