lady manager at Old Faithful Camp has likewise endeared herself and the place to many, if one may judge from this savage song, often heard there:

Gee, but it's worth the world to be at Old Faithful Camp,

Where boys and girls have fun galore,

Be weather dry or damp. Let's stay forever in this geyserlandLet's stay forever at Lady Hi's command

God bless her!

Gee, but it's worth the world to be at Old Faithful Camp!

A

s has been stated, the first thought of the savage is courteous service under any and all circumstances. Yet, however perfect the outer mantle of service may appear, the savages are only human, and it is not surprising if one is able to discover evidence that inwardly the savage reacts to shabby treatment much as other humans do. The evidence is contained in a song set to the tune of "Annabelle" which the heavers sing more often when they are amusing themselves than when doing a stunt for the enjoyment of the

66

We sling the hash and eggs and cheese, Serve soup to nuts as well,

And make the tea for families

Of eight and sometimes twelve.
We don't even make a fuss
When they crab and frown at us,

But all the while we wear a smile. What we think won't do to tell!

The true nature of the savages is forgiving, and their sincere feeling for the visitor whom they serve is contained in these lines, which have sent many a busload rejoicing on its way:

Oh, dudes, we love you so,
And we hate to see you go.
Please don't forget

We'll remember you yet-
How we hate to see you go!

From mid-June until mid-September these thousands of young collegians labor from sunrise or earlier until an hour when the most reluctant guest is about ready to call it a day. They dignify and glorify menial service by the spirit with

time in telling the new arrival who or what they are; but only the most obtuse visitor remains for long in ignorance of the quality that is under the garb they wear. They add enormously to the enjoyment of the parks by administering to the guests' comfort and peace of mind. They work hard, play hard, and go home with a precious little hoard to see them through the next year of school and a philosophy that irons out everything that may have irked or annoyed, such as is finely expressed in the pleasant chant

that rattles off to the tune of "I Ain' Goin' to Work No More:"

The dudes they ride the Pullman, and then they ride the bus,

But the savages push Old Mollie and never make a fuss.

The dudes they eat potatoes, soup, and bread and meat;

The savages chew on corn-cobs and consider it a treat.

The dude girls use their cold cream,

the sheet snatchers their lard, The heavers use their axle grease, but they rub it just as hard.

XI

B

EFORE prohibition was enacted there stretched across the continent in the larger cities a chain of "rescue missions." They were crowded night after night by what appeared to be the riffraff of the town. One of the best-known was the Bowery Mission, in lower New York, famous the world over.

It was assumed even by New Yorkers that every man on the Bowery was either a thief or a bum. There was a day when the Bowery stood for everything that was corrupt and vile. The street was lined with dives and low-down saloons, and cheap "variety shows" abounded. "The Way to Hell" was inscribed in glaring letters over the entrance to various halls.

There is still much that is cheap and tawdry on the Bowery. There are also

the main their needs are the same. There is something else which must quickly be said: they appreciate refinement of speech and surroundings, even though they themselves may have fallen far below the ideals of a former period in their lives. Also, they resent a spirit of patronage or paternalism.

When one thinks of the average "rescue mission," one's mind turns to a hall noisy and naked, devoid of everything that is æsthetic and refined either in equipment or service. But that is not true of the Bowery Mission. The walls. of the main auditorium are dark-brown stone, and the mottoes on the wallsthere must always be mottoes in missions -are done in red and gold, painted in fine old-English letters. The sentiment of the mottoes is not cheap and flashy.

found that it worked. As men told of their experiences in the renewal of strength, others were encouraged to come with their petitions, no matter how discouraging their situations, and the leader would take all to God, simply, devoutly, with faith and confidence.

The leaders kept close to the men who started out in the Bowery Mission. to "begin all over again." For mutual help a Brotherhood was organized, so that from the moment that a convert took the first step he had surrounding him a group of men who had traveled the same road. Tens of thousands of men had become members of this Brotherhood. For about fifty years this enterprise has stood on the Bowery, steering homeless, shipwrecked men into a port of safety.

lodging-houses are often overcrowded and filthy. The restaurants are frequently forbidding and unsanitary. But the old-time Bowery no longer exists. The thing that staggers most of us today is not its vice, but its poverty.

Most solutions of the social problems of to-day are based upon the assumption that the average man is well-nigh ideal; that all he needs is a "system" to bring in the glad new day. One of the many arguments against that assumption is that there will always be some men who will fall by the wayside, beaten and discouraged, no matter what our economic system may be nor how good the times may be. The old Bowery Mission, in company with the many others I have seen throughout the country, has a special function to meet the needs of those who are "down" but not yet "out."

I have often gone down to speak to this unusual audience on the Bowery. The room is always crowded. Needless to say, nearly every man in the assemblage has the word "tragedy" written over his face. But, whatever may be true of the blood and breed of those who patronize the Bowery Mission, their hearts beat just like other men's, and in

meaning to the wandering men who are eager to hear the voice of authority.

Rafters and ceiling and platform and pews are churchly, dignified, substantial, and strong. There is plenty of tiling about the smaller rooms-clean, white, and sanitary, like "Spotless Town" parlors. These purely physical characteristics are exceedingly important in an enterprise part of whose task it is to instill in the minds of men a desire for better surroundings.

But more important is the influence of music, particularly that of the great organ in the Mission. Every night for half an hour, as the men take their placesalthough most of them come early-the organist plays the great classics, and sometimes the best class of lighter music. How the men applaud as their favorite selections are played! Their appreciation of the best kind of music proves that they possess qualities of heart and mind which are not usually attributed to Bowery habitués.

But the thing which has seemed to me to grip the audience is the simple testimony of the men who, "once living in darkness, now see the light." They had tried out the thing for themselves, and

WAS city editor of the Seattle "Star" for a day while Dr. J. Wilbur Chapman and nearly a score of other evangelists and singers were conducting meetings in that city. The enterprising editor of the "Star" thought that it would be a good plan to have his paper produced just as a preacher thought a daily newspaper should be printed. He turned over his entire staff to me to see what I would do with it.

On the day before this experiment I called together the editors and the reporters and gave them their assignments. At first some of the hard-boiled reporters on the paper thought the whole proceeding was a joke. But I had enough knowledge of newspaper practice to handle the situation intelligently, and they entered into the job with enthusiasm when they found that it was to be an honest-to-goodness experiment. Not one jot or tittle of the newspaper went to the linotype men without my approval. Everybody who came in to see the editor that day was sent to my office.

The make-up of the paper was much the same as it had been-news items boiled down, with fairly prominent headlines. But the editorial page was as unlike as it well could be. The sworn

circulation statement gave way to a Scripture text. Prominence was given to a vigorous arraignment of well-known. Seattle men who were daily violating speed ordinances. Divorce cases and unsavory police stories were suppressed, while crimes were barely mentioned. It happened that on that day four particularly distressing cases of insanity were reported, all of which were ruthlessly blue-penciled on the ground that it was inhuman to parade the misfortunes of the blameless. The interest in the experiment was so great that thirty thousand additional copies were printed. That was altogether satisfactory to the publisher as well as to the editor.

C

RITICISM quite as virulent as met the Department of Church and Labor lay in wait for another department which was created in the Board of Home Missions of the Presbyterian Church at my instigation. I had previously been put at the head of the Immigration Department of the Board, because immigration was largely a workingman's problem and a city problem. This work was afterward turned over to Dr. William P. Shriver, who has since developed it in a most statesmanlike manner. But, partly by the report of Theodore Roosevelt's Country Life Commission, I was aroused to the significance of the shift of population to the cities, and to the necessities of developing a real rural society which should be rooted in the land.

A saloon in a city slum

That the Presbyterian Church might do its share, I suggested the establishment of a Country Life Department. Dr. Warren H. Wilson, one of my associates in the Labor Department, was put in charge of it, and thereafter a considerable portion of the Home Missions budget was devoted to this newest agency. But it was absurd, said critics, for ministers to try to tell farmers how to raise their crops. They failed to grasp that it was the function of the ministers in that regard to bring into the community experts who could instruct the farmers. The Country Life Department had the same experience as the Church and Labor Department-others critical, willing to let us do the experimenting, and then trailing behind with the organization of similar departments.

During the year following the Men and Religion Forward Movement campaign, it became my task to promote a National campaign, under the auspices of thirty-six National denominational boards, to present to the churches of America the outstanding social and religious problems which faced them. Paralleling one of the most exciting Presidential campaigns in American history, and coming almost immediately after the election, the culminating week stood out as the most conspicuous movement conducted by the churches during the year. It was unique in that it touched the remotest church in the country as well as the biggest church in town.

was one of the most boldly conceived enterprises in the history of the Protestant Church, with a vision of Protestant America working together for the accomplishment of a common task, although each denomination was to remain intact and to develop its own work as it thought best. The budget which was to be raised amounted to one billion dollars. Some of the biggest men in America were enlisted, and "big business" methods were applied to every depart

Dr. Warren H. Wilson as Superintendent of the Social Service DepartPresbyterian Church

ment. Perhaps that was one reason why it failed: it became top-heavy with organization, and impossibilities were expected of its managers.

The chief promoter of the InterChurch World Movement was S. Earl Taylor, who had so successfully carried through the Centenary Movement of the Methodist Episcopal Church, by which something like one hundred and fifty something like one hundred and fifty million dollars was raised for a five-year budget. I had the good fortune to be associated with Earl Taylor during nine months of the Centenary Movement, editing pamphlet publicity material and being responsible for a large amount of the publicity in connection with the million-dollar exposition at Columbus, which, again, was one of the most dramatic things ever done by any religious denomination.

A corps of about twenty survey men had been employed for some time by the Inter-Church World Movement to make a document to be presented at a meeting of thirteen hundred laymen from various parts of the United States, to whom the billion-dollar program of the movement was to be sold at a meeting in Atlantic City. One day in Pittsburgh I received a long-distance telephone message from New York, asking me if I would drop all of my other work and spend night and day shaping up and editing materials to be put into this important document which was to deal with great American social and religious problems. The time

for the Atlantic City meeting was perilously close, and the reports of the survey men had not been presented.

I had secured materials on all of these subjects during the years that I had been connected with various National organizations and enterprises, besides which I had written several books dealing with them, and I had been careful to keep this matter up to date. I had long before learned the importance of being always prepared. I spent fully a month in working out this material, co-operating with Ralph E. Diffendorfer, who had charge of the entire job, and who deserves great credit for the splendid manner in which he handled it. Now comes the interesting part of the story: When the thirteen hundred laymen were gathered together on the steel pier at Atlantic City, the chairman of the meeting had in his hand the finished volume upon which I had spent the preceding four or five weeks. He held it up before that representative audience of business men and said:

"I have here the finest presentation on American social and religious conditions that I have ever seen, and I want you to meet the men who are responsible for it."

He turned to the twenty-odd survey men on the platform and asked them to rise. They received a tremendous ovation from the men in the audience. The billion-dollar program was "sold" to the laymen that day.

S

PELL it any way you like, the function of Hart House in the University of Toronto is cardiac. The life of the University beats there; it draws in currents of graduate and undergraduate circulation and gives them forth reinvigorated and refreshed. It is a big idea and a big fact in the University, in Toronto, in Ontario, in the Dominion of Canada, There is nothing exactly corresponding to it in the other twenty-three universities of Canada or in any of the universities and colleges of the United States. In many American seats of learning "unions" have been built, either as most appropriate commemorations of the war or as a check to the centrifugal or group tendencies of modern university society. None of them, either in design or in function, have anything like the universality of Hart House.

Several good reasons and some worthy emotions account for this distinction. In the first place, the University of Toronto is a loose and unique federation combining the constituent elements of separate colleges of the arts, as at Oxford and Cambridge in England, with the specialized faculties of professional or vocational instruction which together form the bulk and the strength of state universities. Its origins, going back to the American Revolution, and antedating, therefore, all but the most venerable of educational institutions in the United States, are exceedingly British. Founded as Kings College by a royal charter obtained from George IV in 1827, it is still officially termed "The Provincial [with a capital "P"] University of Ontario." In 1797, when the project of a university first came up, the population of the newly formed Province of Upper Canada, organized later as the Province of Ontario, numbered about seventy thousand people, under the Governorship of Sir John Graves Simcoe, who had seen service in the War of American Independence and was, in addition, deeply impressed by what he saw as the corroborative horrors of the French Revolution. The large majority of the pioneers under his authority were loyalists from the newly independent United States, who brought with them across a border existing then, as now, more tangibly in opinions than in geography, a determination to remain British, together with a sturdy independence in questions of religion and the habit and traditions of local selfgovernment. To fortify this young and

Governor Simcoe's coat of arms in the rotunda of the Administration Building

The test of the Great War proved out one of the fundamental ideas of this, or any other university-the idea of service at a sacrifice. Long before conscription came so many of the students had enlisted that not an able-bodied man out of uniform was left about the campus. Hart House, begun in 1911 and not finished five years later, began in 1914 prematurely its usefulness. During the four war years it was used for training purposes, where Faculty, graduates, and undergraduates were united in the service of a great emergency. Something of their united loyalty went into the uncompleted structure, though Hart House, so called in memory of the late Mr. Hart Massey, of Toronto, is not itself in any way tangibly commemorative of the Great War. It seems, therefore, very fitting that the Soldiers' Tower should architecturally join Hart House, the

youngest element in the life of "Toronto," with University College, the oldest building on the campus. Standing high between them, it adds distinction to the group and points the significance of the University both in united sacrifice in the past and readiness for united service in the future. The reverent builders of the Tower felt that, while faith might be symbolized by an arch, and a spire pointing to the stars might stand for hope, a monument to love of country might most appropriately be a tower with foundations dug deep beneath the grave.

"Nothing is here for tears," runs the memorial inscription, "nothing to wail or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt, disdain, or blame; nothing but well and fair."

Baptized by the war training of hundreds of men who went from its walls overseas, Hart House was completed in 1919 and presented, fully equipped, to the University of Toronto by the trustees of the Massey Foundation. War united the University just as it united the entire British Empire, but the resumption of peace curricula found at Toronto the same nominal federation in even greater need of some unifying force or influence. Hart House is the unique binding link of a unique university federation. The religious independence of the province had found expression in the four separate denominational foundations of the federated colleges now under University administration: University College is non-denominational; Victoria College, a Methodist foundation, is now aligned with the United Church of Canada; Trinity College perpetuates the Anglican traditions of the original charter; and St. Michael's is a Roman Catholic college.

To these federated arts colleges, corresponding, for example, in their interrelationships, to Balliol, Christ Church, King's College, and Magdalen at Oxford, must be added the two federated theological schools of Knox and Wycliffe, the "affiliated provincial colleges" of Agriculture, Veterinary Medicine, and Pharmacy, the more characteristically American "Faculties" (professional schools) of Medicine, Engineering, Forestry, Education, Household Science, Music, Graduate Studies, and Dentistry, and the socalled "Special Departments," such as Social Service, Public Health, and University Extension.

On a small scale such a federation is almost as disunited by special interests