mocratic ideas
which I found in the paper, for they were all in the interest of poor
toilers like myself. So I made up my mind to go to the meeting.

"So that night I went to the meeting and listened to the speeches.
Presently _he_ came in. I didn't see him at first, but heard a slight
noise back of me and heard someone near me say 'Here comes Doctor
Marx.' Then I turned and saw Karl making his way to the front, all
eyes fastened upon him. I could see in a moment that he was much
beloved.

"Then Karl made a speech. He was not a great orator, but spoke clearly
and right to the point in very simple language. The speaker who spoke
before him was very eloquent and fiery, and stirred the audience to a
frenzy. But never a sound of applause greeted Karl's speech; he was
listened to in perfect silence.

"This made me feel that Karl's speech was a great failure, but next
day I found that the only words I remembered of all that were spoken
that evening were the words Karl spoke. It was the same way with the
other men in the shop where I worked. As they discussed the meeting
next day, it was Karl's speech they remembered and discussed. That was
like Karl: he had a way somehow of saying things you couldn't forget.

"When the meeting was over I was slinking away without speaking to
him. I suppose that I was bashful and a bit afraid of the grave
'Doctor Marx,' the great man. But he saw me going out and shouted my
name. 'Wait a minute, Hans Fritzsche,' he cried, and came running to
me with outstretched hands. Then he insisted upon introducing me to
all the leaders. 'This is my good friend, Herr Fritzsche, with whom I
went to school,' he said to them.

"Nothing would satisfy him but that I should go with the other leaders
and himself for a little wine, and though I was almost afraid lest in
such company I seem foolish, I went. You should have heard Karl talk
to those leaders, my boy! It was wonderful, and I sat and drank in
every word. One of the great men was urging that the time had come
for some desperate action. 'Nothing but a bloody revolution can help
the working people, Herr Marx,' he said. But Karl smiled quietly, and
I thought I could see the old scornful curl of his lip as he said:
'Revolution? Yes, but not yet, Herr, not yet, and perhaps not a bloody
one at all.' Ach, what quiet power seemed to go with his words!

"After the little crowd broke up Karl took me with him to his office.
Then I learned that he was the edit