“Why not?” persisted the visitor.

“Because in our mills we spin both black and white yarn, and if the windows were kept open the lint from the black yarn would blow on the white yarn and ruin it.”

A quick vision rose before the visitor’s consciousness, of a mill room, noisy with clacking machinery, reeking with the mingled odors of perspiration and warm oil, obscure with flying cotton flakes which covered the forms of the workers like snow and choked in their throats like desert sand.

“But,” she exclaimed, “you can have two rooms, one for the white yarn and the other for the black.”

The rich young man shook his head with the air of one who goes away exceedingly sorrowful.

“No,” he replied, “we can’t.  The business won’t stand it.”

This story presents in miniature the social attitude of the majority of men.  They cannot be held entirely responsible.  Their minds automatically function just that way.  They have high and generous impulses, their hearts are susceptible to tenderest pity, they often possess the vision of brotherhood and human kinship, but habit, long habit, always intervenes in time to save the business from loss of a few dollars profit.

Three years ago Chicago was on the eve of one of its periodical “vice crusades,” of which more later.  Sensational stories had been published in several newspapers, to the effect that no fewer than five thousand Jewish girls were leading lives of shame in the city, a statement which was received with horror by the Jewish population of Chicago.  A meeting of wealthy and influential men and women was called in the law library of a well known jurist and philanthropist.  Representatives from various social settlements in Jewish quarters of the town were invited, and it was as a guest of one of these settlements that I was privileged to be present.

Eloquent addresses were made and an elaborate plan for investigation and relief was outlined.  Finally it came to a point where ways and means had to be considered.  The presiding officer put this phase of the matter to the conference with smiling frankness.  “You must realize, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “that we have entered upon an extensive and, I am afraid, a very expensive campaign.”

At this a middle aged and notably dignified man arose and said with emotion trembling in his voice:  “Mr. Chairman, and ladies and gentlemen of the conference, this surely is no time for us to think of economy of expenditure.  If the daughters of Israel are losing their ancient dower of purity, the sons of Israel should be willing, nay, eager to ransom them at any cost.  Permit me, as a privileged honor which I value highly, to offer, as a contribution towards the preliminary expenses of this campaign, my check for ten thousand dollars.”

He sat down to that polite little murmur of applause which goes round the room, and I whispered to the head resident of the settlement of which I was a guest, an inquiry as to the identity of the generous donor.