And you say to the children, “This is my house.  You can go anywhere in it that you want to.”  And you go and haul Philip out of the parlor, and you tell him that his brothers and sisters have just as much right in there as he has, and that they are all to enjoy it.  Now, God is our Father, and this world is a house of several rooms, and God has at least five children—­the North American continent, the South American continent, the Asiatic continent, the European continent, and the African continent.  The North American continent sneaks away, and says:  “I prefer the parlor.  You South Americans, Asiatics, Europeans, and Africans, you stay in your own rooms; this is the place for me; I prefer it, and I am going to stay in the parlor; I like the front windows facing on the Atlantic, and the side windows facing on the Pacific, and the nice piazza on the south where the sun shines, and the glorious view from the piazza to the north.”  And God, the Father, comes in and sends thunder and lightning through the house, and says to his son, the American continent:  “You are no more my child than are all these others, and they have just as much right to enjoy this part of my house as you have.”

It will be a great day for the health of our American atmosphere when this race prejudice is buried in the earth.  Come, bring your spades, and let us dig a grave for it; and dig it deep down into the heart of the earth, but not clear through to China, lest the race prejudice should fasten the prejudice on the other side.  Having got this grave deeply dug, come, let us throw in all the hard things that have been said and written between Jew and Gentile, between Protestant and Catholic, between Turk and Russian, between French and English, between Mongolian and anti-Mongolian, between black and white; and then let us set up a tombstone and put upon it the epitaph:  “Here lies the monster that cursed the earth for nearly three thousand years.  He has departed to go to perdition, from which he started.  No peace to his ashes.”

From this glorious Holland dinner let us go out trying to imitate the virtues of our ancestors, the men who built the Holland dikes, which are the only things that ever conquered the sea, slapping it in the face and making it go back.  There was a young Holland engineer who was to be married to a maiden living in one of the villages sheltered by these dikes, and in the evening there was to be a banquet in honor of the wedding, which was to be given to the coming bridegroom.  But all day long the sea was raging and beating against the dikes.  And this engineer reasoned with himself:  “Shall I go to the banquet which is to be given in my honor, or shall I go and join my workmen down on the dikes?” And he finally concluded that it was his duty to go and join his workmen on the dikes, and he went.  And when the poor fellows toiling there saw that their engineer was coming to help them, they set up a cheer.  The engineer had a rope put around him and was lowered down into