ss and lion-hearted. I just picked the creature up and shook
him like a terrier shakes a rat and he squealed bitterly. I don't
think he called Karl a coward again during the congress.

"Of course, Karl had courage enough for anything. But he was too wise
to imagine that any good could come from a few thousand untrained
workingmen, armed with all sorts of implements, dangerous most to
themselves, challenging the trained hosts of capitalist troops. That
was the old idea of 'Revolution,' you know, and it took more courage
to advocate the long road of patience than it would take to join in a
silly riot. And Karl showed them that, too, by his calm look and
scornful treatment of their cry for 'action.' The way he silenced the
noisy followers of Wilhelm Weitling--who was not a bad fellow,
mind--was simply wonderful to see. Oh, he was a born leader of men,
was Karl.

"When the congress was all over, I meant to stay a few days in London
to see the great city. Barbara had a sister living over in Dean street
and so it would cost me nothing to stay. But Karl came to me and
begged me to go back by way of Brussels. He and Engels were returning
there at once, and would like to have me go with them. I didn't want
to go at first, but when Karl said that there were some messages he
wanted me to take back to Cologne, why, of course, I went.

"Ach, what a glorious time we had on that journey to Brussels!
Sometimes Karl and Engels would talk seriously about the great cause,
and I just listened and kept my mouth shut while my ears were wide
open. At other times they would throw off their seriousness as a man
throws off a coat, and then they would tell stories and sing songs,
and of course I joined in. People say--people that never knew the
real Karl--that he was gloomy and sad, that he couldn't smile. I
suppose that is because they never saw the simple Karl that I knew and
loved, but only Marx, the great leader and teacher, with a thousand
heavy problems burdening his mind. But the Marx that I knew--my friend
Karl--was human, boy, very human. He could sing a song, tell a good
story, and enjoy a joke, even at his own expense."

A smile lit up the face of the Young Comrade. "I'm so glad of that,
Hans," he said. "I've always been told that he was a sad man, without
a sense of humor; that he was never known to unbend from his stiff
gravity. But you say that he was not so; that he could laugh and joke
and sing: I like him better so."

Old H