A young man who had been brought up in one of the worst slums of New York, rose to fame and fortune in the theatrical field through his literary talents. He bought a yacht, and although he hired a man to run it for him, he himself assumed the title of "Captain." He got himself a resplendent uniform - complete with gold braid and brass buttons - and invited his old mother to go for a cruise. His mother had come to the United States from eastern Europe, and she had retained the native common sense that many such immigrants have.

Several years ago, I motored across the continent with my family. One summer day we saw some of the beauties of the national parks in southern Utah; we drove on to the north rim of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, arriving there after sunset. We found our rooms for the night and ate our dinner; then we walked down the path to the wall that guards the edge of this mighty chasm. There was no moon and we looked out into pitch darkness. I told my children what lay before them, but it was impossible to see anything whatsoever in the inky blackness. Far to the south we could see the lights of the hotel on the south rim of the canyon. I told the children that between us and those lights was a distance of many miles, and that separating us from the lights was the greatest canyon in the world, going down a mile to the great river which lay hidden beneath us.