ot have prevented him from maintaining his human ideals, and
watching with untiring eyes for every opportunity of reconstructing the
shattered unity. Certainly he would not have allowed the vessel of
socialism to drift, as his feeble successors have done.

* * * * *

He has passed from us. But the reflection of his luminous genius, his
kindness in the bitter struggle, his indestructible optimism even in the
midst of disaster, shine above the carnage of Europe, over which the
dusk is gathering, like the splendor of the setting sun.

There is one page which he wrote, which cannot be read without
emotion--an immortal page in which he represents the noble Herakles,
resting after his labors on the maternal earth:

"There are hours," he says, "when in feeling the earth beneath our feet,
we experience a joy deep and tranquil as the earth herself. How often
on my journey along footpaths and across fields I have realized suddenly
that it was indeed the earth on which I trod, that I belonged to her, as
she belonged to me! Then without thinking I went more slowly, because it
was not worth while to hasten across her surface, because I was
conscious of her and possessed her at each step I took, and my soul was
moving within her depths. How many times at the fall of day, as I lay by
the side of a ditch, my eyes turned towards the faint blue of the
eastern sky, I have suddenly realized that the earth was speeding on her
journey hastening from the fatigues of the day and the limited horizons
which the sun illumines, and rushing with prodigious force towards the
serenity of night and unlimited horizons, and bearing me with her. I
felt in my body as in my soul, and in the earth herself as in my body,
the thrill of this journey, and a strange sweetness in those blue spaces
which opened out before us, without a shock, without a fold, without a
murmur. Oh! how much deeper and more intense is this kinship of our
flesh with the earth, than the vague and wandering kinship of our eyes
with the starry heavens. How much less beautiful the night with its
stars would be to us, did we not feel ourselves at the same time bound
to the earth."

He has returned to the earth--that earth which belonged to him, that
earth to which he belonged. They have again taken possession of each
other, and his spirit is even now warming and humanizing her. Beneath
the torrents of blood shed upon his tomb the new life and the peace of