THE YOUNG SOCIALISTS' MAGAZINEKARL MARX AND FRBDERItK ENGELSThere is not a chapter in thehistory of the Socialist movementmore beautiful than the onewhich tells of the friendship ofKarl Marx and Frederick Engels.In Stuttgart. Germany, "herewas published a short time a~oa collection of letters which werewritten by Marx and Engels dllr~i llg the years which the formerspent in exile in Germany.Karl ~larx had been exiledfrom Germany because of hisrevolutionary activity there andafter traveling with his wife andchildren from place to place.hounded by the German governmentthey finally found a refugein the worst district of London.lIere :Marx tried to support hi:;fa mily by "'riling. articles forpapers and periodicals. hy all.;orts of odd literary jobs whichca me his way. Dut his revolutionaryarticles were but little indemand and were poorly p:'Iill.The famitv of )'Iarx lived in hitlerwant 'for 1ll:lnr years. lIi
"W THR YOUNG .OCIALlaTS' MAGAZINEwert the principal owners of ourbeloved land. From the far northhad c:ome Mr. J. J. Hilly, prcsi.deat of the Great Pacific Merger.with his retinue embracing suchdiltinlfuished ecclesiastics asCardinal ] reland and ArchbishopPotterer. Aaron Rosenthal, bet·tet' know." a!J the Garment King,one of the foremost philanthropiafaof th~ land, had come fromPhiladelphia, accompanied byMonaigzlor Bambabotli, the Papaldelegate, and Major GeneralWoody of the U. S. Army.Among the guests from abroad,we may' mention Colonel WaldorfAstoria, Prince De Sagan, thePrinccss Marlborough ncc Ele:'liGoold,111e Archbischop of Canterburyand Count Bony Caste1ani.The reception committee properwa!! composed of Morgan the Second,'Andreas Karnegee, the SteelKing, Abram Cohen, CardinalGrabit. Rabbi Wiser. the learnedTalmudist, President Lc Ruin ofthe New York Central R. R., OgdenAnnour. Bishop Doolittleand Senator Smoot, all well knownpillars of ~urch and society.A golden throne stood on thel·m'ter of the stage. to be occupiedby the Messiah. Above this arosea gorgeous gold embroidered canopyof purple satin. In front ofthis stood Indian Joe with outstretched arms, his face turnedheavenwards in holy ~stasy.It is not known who gave thesignal. or why it was given, butatt of a sudden every bell in thecity began to ring. The five thousand-voicedchoir burst forth inHandel's inul10rtal Hallelujahchorus. Organs pealed, trumpetsflared. A tremor passed throughthe multitude. Every face turnedtowards heaven. High abovefloated a shimm~ing white cloud.Million. of eyes were riveted ontl~ shining speck. But the cloudpassed over the assembly and outof view bellind a towering skyscraper.Ju~ then a commotionstarted on the front of the stage.1t appears that while every onewas gazing into the sky some rudeperson had taken advantage ofthe situation and had mountedthe stage. HO\~ he managed toslip past the cordon of liveried servantsand plain clothes men, no onecan tell. Some one sought to ejecthim from the st~ae where he stoodin glaring contrast to the magnificentlygowned ladies and the dignitariesof the church attired insplendid vestments. There wassomething about the person whichoverawed the attendants. for presentlythey fell back and allowl"dhim to proceed.The man was ridiculous and outof harmony with his surroundings.He wore heavy, much·wornshoes, faded corduroy trousers, ablue, coarse shirt open at thethroat and a battered slouch hat.Apparently he belonged to thelower classes. The only strikingpart of the stranger was his strong,pale face-a face which spoke Qfsuffering and want. Dropping hisslouch hat on the carpeted floor.strewn with roses and, violets, hetook a few paces forward. He m0-tioned for silence and said: "I amhe for whom you are waiting."Some one snickered. A burlyman ncar the stage bellowed:t'Throw him·out.;"The stranger smiled sadly andrepeated: "I am he for whom youare waiting.'·At this juncture a few of lhesociety ladies on the stage calledfor their automobiles. Indian Joewas seen gesticuJating violently beforea group of ecclesiastics. Andagain there arose the strong clearvoice of the Stranger: fl J am he forwhom you arc waiting ...."Throw him oul"' yelled the burlyman who had spoken before.. flWhy donlt somebody arrest thetramp," came in a high thin voice."Give the man a show I" shoutedanother one. "That's right. givehim a show, let him talk,': came achorus of voices. •The stranger proceeded;"For many years I have beenamong you. I have tramped frol'none end of this land to the other.J have toiled in the cotton fiddsof the south and in the lumbercamps of the north. I have stoodin the bread line among the out·casts and dug coat in the mines ofPennsylvania. I have wa~redin the streets at night and m ledwith the homeless and the h :'Its.I have stood half naked before e Iroaring furnace in the mills . and \.shivered as I toiled in the tunnels "beneath your river. I have seen thewaste of want and the waste ofwealth. I have seen the dau,ghtersof the rich selting their bodies fortitles and beheld the ' daughters ofthe poor selling their bodies forbread. I have seen the palace andthe hovel. I have seen dogs eatfrom golden plates and childrensearch for crusts in the gutters ofyour cities."I ha.ve seen babies toiling duringendless summer days in thepoisoned air of cotton mills, whilethose for whom they slaved playedlike children in the sand. fannedby the cooling ocean breezes."By this time .. some of the boxesbegan to empty. The crowd onthe stage diminished visibly. AsAaron Rosenthal was leaving thestage, accompanied by MonsignorBambabboUi. he was heard sayingto the latter: "The joke is on us,father." :Whereupon the ' greatdivine shrugged his shoulders andlaughed good.naturedly. Andagain the great voice of the strangerrose above the tumult:, ,. I have laood in the window·less room of a tenement at earlydawn and listened to the hackingcough of a dying mother bendingover a whirring machine.I "I have held in my arms thewasted body of a child Aowermaker,who had fainted at hertask."I have followed the joble'S!'Lllan, begging for the right to workuntil the dark waves of yonderriver closed above his weary head."Oh I You poor and oppressed.You build palaces and sleep inhovels. You weave silken gar·ments and walk in rags. You gohungry to fecd the' gourmandizer.You shear thc sheep and wearshoddy. You toil ceaselessly topile up wealth for the few whoeven now are rotting under themountain of unearned gain. Beholdthe tears of your wivessparrkling in the hair of yonderwomen. THe sparkle ofyour children's eyes are glimmeringat their milky throats. Your bloodhas dyed the purple canopy abovemy head. The hue of the rosesbeneath my feet is drawn from thecheecks of your maidens."The reserve seats were now quiteempty, but the common people farto the rear were 'pushing towardsthe front, so as to hear better. Acluster of church dignitaries helda hasty conference on the left of thestage. They now approached thestranger. Their spokesman, therector of the most fashionable tabernacleof the city, bowed sarcasticallybefore the speaker."I hope you will pardon the interruption,"he said in a perf~t1ymodulated voice, "but this is not aSocialist meeting. We did not('orne here to hear the harangue ofan irresponsible agitator, who apparentlyhas no othe{ ' object thanto enRarne ~ minds of- these goOhcl'ln:1I1 bythe namc ,.f l'cter f.lanigan. wa);reading the ~('rmon on the Mountfrom a ~()ap h.lX. when the policebroh up thi: mecting. The prisoners.II h., daim to be . followenof the ne\\ Ch ri",. have been sentto the workbOll
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