The grave defect in our American life is not that we are hero
worshipers, but rather that we worship but one type of hero; we
recognize but one type of achievement; we see but one sort of genius.
For two generations our youth have been led to believe that there is
only one ambition that is worth while,--the ambition of property.
Success at any price is the ideal that has been held up before our boys
and girls. And to-day we are reaping the rewards of this distorted and
unjust view of life.

I recently met a man who had lived for some years in the neighborhood of
St. Paul and Minneapolis,--a section that is peopled, as you know, very
largely by Scandinavian immigrants and their descendants. This man told
me that he had been particularly impressed by the high idealism of the
Norwegian people. His business brought him in contact with Norwegian
immigrants in what are called the lower walks of life,--with workingmen
and servant girls,--and he made it a point to ask each of these young
men and young women the same question. "Tell me," he would say, "who are
the great men of your country? Who are the men toward whom the youth of
your land are led to look for inspiration? Who are the men whom your
boys are led to imitate and emulate and admire?" And he said that he
almost always received the same answer to this question: the great names
of the Norwegian nation that had been burned upon the minds even of
these workingmen and servant girls were just four in number: Ole Bull,
Björnson, Ibsen, Nansen. Over and over again he asked that same
question; over and over again he received the same answer: Ole Bull,
Björnson, Ibsen, Nansen. A great musician, a great novelist, a great
dramatist, a great scientist.

And I conjectured as I heard of this incident, What would be the answer
if the youth of our land were asked that question: "Who are the great