as to be called the _Neue Rhenische Zeitung_ and Freiligrath,
George Weerth, Lassalle, and many others, were to write for it. So we
drank a toast to the health and prosperity of the new paper.

"Well, the paper came out all right, and it was not long before Karl's
attacks upon the government brought trouble upon it. The middle class
stockholders felt that he was too radical, and when he took the part
of the French workers, after the terrible defeat of June, they wanted
to get rid of their chief editor. There was no taming a man like Karl.

"One day I went down to the office with a notice for a committee of
which I was a member, and Karl introduced me to Michael Bakunin, the
great Russian Anarchist leader. Karl never got along very well with
Bakunin and there was generally war going on between them.

"Did you ever hear of Robert Blum, my lad? Ever read the wonderful
verses Freiligrath wrote about him? I suppose not. Well, Blum was a
moderate Democrat, a sort of Liberal who belonged to the Frankfort
National Assembly. When the insurrection of October, 1848, broke out
in Vienna Blum was sent there by the National Assembly, the so-called
'parliament of the people.'

"He assumed command of the revolutionary forces and was captured and
taken prisoner by the Austrian army and ordered to be shot. I remember
well the night of the ninth of February when the atrocious deed was
committed. We had a great public meeting. The hall was crowded to
suffocation. I looked for Karl, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was
a very busy man, you see, and had to write a great deal for his paper
at night.

"It was getting on for ten o'clock when Karl appeared in the hall and
made his way in silence to the platform. Some of the comrades
applauded him, but he raised his hand to silence them. We saw then
that he held a telegram in his hand, and that his face was as pale as
death itself. We knew that something terrible had happened, and a
great hush fell over the meeting. Not a sound could be heard until
Karl began to read.

"The telegram was very brief and very terrible. Robert Blum had been
shot to death in Vienna, according to martial law, it said. Karl read
it with solemn voice, and I thought that I could see the murder taking
place right there in the hall before my eyes. I suppose everybody felt
just like that, for there was perfect silence--the kind of silence
that is painful--for a few seconds. Then we all broke out in a perfect
roar of