I had left my parents' roof to be buffeted about by strikes and unemployment, and I feared that our home would be lost and my brothers scattered forever.

The voice of hate was whispering that the "classes" would ride down the children of the poor, and with this gloomy thought I went to bed.

My couch was a bed of coal slack, and I was journeying to a mill town in a freight car.
As we rolled along, I saw in a vision train after train of lodge men going to some happy city.

They were miners and steel workers, as well as clerks and teachers, and they were banded together, not like Reds to overthrow the wage system, but to teach themselves and their children how to make the wage system shed its greatest blessings upon all.

The city they were going to was one they had built with their own hands.
And in that city was a school where every trade was taught to fatherless children, as my father taught his trade to me.