You may think that this is all very well to talk about, but that it bears little agreement to the real conditions.  Let me tell you that you are mistaken.  Go ask Roentgen why he did not keep the X-rays a secret to be exploited for his own personal gain.  Ask the shade of the great Helmholtz why he did not patent the ophthalmoscope.  Go to the University of Wisconsin and ask Professor Babcock why he gave to the world without money and without price the Babcock test—­an invention which is estimated to mean more than one million dollars every year to the farmers and dairymen of that state alone.  Ask the men on the geological survey who laid bare the great gold deposits of Alaska why they did not leave a thankless and ill-paid service to acquire the wealth that lay at their feet.  Because commercialized ideals govern the world that we know, we think that all men’s eyes are jaundiced, and that all men’s vision is circumscribed by the milled rim of the almighty dollar.  But we are sadly, miserably mistaken.

Do you think that these ideals of service from which every taint of self-seeking and commercialism have been eliminated—­do you think that these are mere figments of the impractical imagination?  Go ask Perry Holden out in Iowa.  Go ask Luther Burbank out in California.  Go to any agricultural college in this broad land and ask the scientists who are doing more than all other forces combined to increase the wealth of the people.  Go to the scientific departments at Washington where men of genius are toiling for a pittance.  Ask them how much of the wealth for which they are responsible they propose to put into their own pockets.  What will be their answer?  They will tell you that all they ask is a living wage, a chance to work, and the just recognition of their services by those who know and appreciate and understand.

But let me hasten to add that these men claim no especial merit for their altruism and unselfishness.  They do not pose before the world as philanthropists.  They do not strut about and preen themselves as who would say:  “See what a noble man am I!  See how I sacrifice myself for the welfare of society!” The attitude of cant and pose is entirely alien to the spirit of true service.  Their delight is in doing, in serving, in producing.  But beyond this, they have the faults and frailties of their kind,—­save one,—­the sin of covetousness.  And again, all that they ask of the world is a living wage, and the privilege to serve.

And that is all that the true craftsman in education asks.  The man or woman with the itching palm has no place in the schoolroom,—­no place in any craft whose keynote is service.  It is true that the teacher does not receive to-day, in all parts of our country, a living wage; and it is equally true that society at large is the greatest sufferer because of its penurious policy in this regard.  I should applaud and support every movement that has for its purpose the raising of teachers’ salaries