things that cannot be measured by dollars and cents, nor be held down
by dollars and cents. The revolutionist cries out upon wrong and
injustice, and preaches righteousness. And, most potent of all, he
sings the eternal song of human freedom--a song of all lands and all
tongues and all time.

Few members of the capitalist class see the revolution. Most of them
are too ignorant, and many are too afraid to see it. It is the same
old story of every perishing ruling class in the world's history.
Fat with power and possession, drunken with success, and made soft by
surfeit and by cessation of struggle, they are like the drones
clustered about the honey vats when the worker-bees spring upon them
to end their rotund existence.

President Roosevelt vaguely sees the revolution, is frightened by it,
and recoils from seeing it. As he says: "Above all, we need to
remember that any kind of class animosity in the political world is,
if possible, even more wicked, even more destructive to national
welfare, than sectional, race, or religious animosity."

Class animosity in the political world, President Roosevelt
maintains, is wicked. But class animosity in the political world is
the preachment of the revolutionists. "Let the class wars in the
industrial world continue," they say, "but extend the class war to
the political world." As their leader, Eugene V. Debs says: "So far
as this struggle is concerned, there is no good capitalist and no bad
working-man. Every capitalist is your enemy and every working-man is
your friend."

Here is class animosity in the political world with a vengeance. And