from the context, and turned his subdued and controlled remarks into a
howling anarchistic speech. It was done artfully. One instance, in
particular, I remember. He had used the phrase "social revolution."
The reporter merely dropped out "social." This was sent out all over
the country in an Associated Press despatch, and from all over the
country arose a cry of alarm. Father was branded as a nihilist and an
anarchist, and in one cartoon that was copied widely he was portrayed
waving a red flag at the head of a mob of long-haired, wild-eyed men who
bore in their hands torches, knives, and dynamite bombs.

He was assailed terribly in the press, in long and abusive editorials,
for his anarchy, and hints were made of mental breakdown on his part.
This behavior, on the part of the capitalist press, was nothing new,
Ernest told us. It was the custom, he said, to send reporters to all
the socialist meetings for the express purpose of misreporting and
distorting what was said, in order to frighten the middle class away
from any possible affiliation with the proletariat. And repeatedly
Ernest warned father to cease fighting and to take to cover.

The socialist press of the country took up the fight, however, and
throughout the reading portion of the working class it was known that
the book had been suppressed. But this knowledge stopped with the
working class. Next, the "Appeal to Reason," a big socialist publishing
house, arranged with father to bring out the book. Father was jubilant,
but Ernest was alarmed.

"I tell you we are on the verge of the unknown," he insisted. "Big
things are happening secretly all around us. We can feel them. We do
not know what they are, but they are there. The whole fabric of society
is a-tremble with them. Don't ask me. I don't know myself. But out of