May all who read it, choose evolution and safety and not wait for war and its attending calamities that the money rulers are bringing, is my greatest wish.
HOW I HAPPENED TO WRITE “OTHER WORLDS.”
’Twas evening. I was sitting in my parlor alone in the home, not a soul was near.
A strike was in full blast and had been for a year.
Lives had been lost and mourners would weep
As funerals passed slowly down the street.
Watching at the window as a procession passed,
Mentally I asked the question: how long O God! how long shall this thing last?
Is the Idol of the Nation—aye, the Idol of the earth—