se who are most like themselves. Family feuds, and the wrangles
of denominations that, to outsiders, hold the same faith, are common.
When churches are locked in America, it is done to keep Christians out.
Christians fight Christians much more than they fight the devil.

Marat had grown to be a power among the lower classes--he was their
friend, their physician, their advocate. He had no fear of interruption
and never sought to pacify. At his belt, within easy reach, and in open
sight, he carried a dagger.

The crowds that hung upon his words were swayed to rank unreason by his
impassioned eloquence.

Marat fell a victim to his own eloquence, and the madness of the mob
reacted upon him. Like the dyer's hand, he became subdued to that in
which he worked. Suspicion and rebellion filled his soul. Wealth to him
was an offense--he had not the prophetic vision to see the rise of
capitalism and all the splendid industrial evolution which the world is
today working out. Society to him was all founded on wrong premises,
and he would uproot it.

In bitter words he denounced the Assembly and declared that all of its
members, including Mirabeau, should be hanged for their inaction in not
giving the people relief from their oppressors.

Mirabeau was very much like Marat. He, too, was working for the people,
only he occupied a public office, while Marat was a private citizen.
Mirabeau and his friends became alarmed at the influence Marat was
gaining over the people, and he was ordered to cease public speaking. As
he failed to comply, a price was put upon his head.

Then it was that he began putting out a daily address in the form of a
tiny pamphlet. This was at first called "The Publiciste," but was soon
changed to "The People's Friend."

Marat was now in hiding, but still his words were making their impress.

In Seventeen Hundred Ninety-one, Mirabeau, the terrible, died--died
peacefully in his bed.

Paris went into universal mourning, and the sky of Marat's popularity
was darkened.

Marat lived in hiding until August of Seventeen Hundred Ninety-two, when
he again publicly appeared and led the riots. The people hailed him as
their deliverer. The insignificant size of the man made him conspicuous.
His proud defiance, the haughtiness of his countenance, his stinging
words, formed a personality that made him the pet of the people.

Danton, the Minister of Justice, dared not kill him, and so he did the
next best thing--he to