hered by the shores of the Monongahela River armed with
sticks and stones, but ere they had time for an attack a violent fire
was opened from the boat that neared the shore, and within an hour
eleven strikers lay dead from the bullets of Frick's hirelings.

Every beast is satisfied when it has devoured its prey,--not so the
human beast. After the killing of the strikers H. C. Frick had the
families of the dead evicted from their homes, which had been sold to
the workingmen on the instalment plan and at the exorbitant prices usual
in such cases.

Out of these homes the wives and children of the men struggling for a
living wage were thrown into the street and left without shelter. There
was one exception only. A woman who had given birth to a baby two days
previous and who, regardless of her delicate condition, defended her
home and succeeded in driving the sheriff from the house with a poker.

Everyone stood aghast at such brutality, at such inhumanity to man, in
this great free republic of ours. It seemed as if the cup of human
endurance had been filled to the brim, as if out of the ranks of the
outraged masses some one would rise to call those to account who had
caused it all.

And some one rose in mighty indignation against the horrors of wealth
and power. It was Alexander Berkman!

A youth with a vision of a grand and beautiful world based upon freedom
and harmony, and with boundless sympathy for the suffering of the
masses. One whose deep, sensitive nature could not endure the barbarisms
of our times. Such was the personality of the man who staked his life as
a protest against tyranny and iniquity; and such has Alexander Berkman
remained all these long, dreary fourteen years.

Nothing was left undone to crush the body and spirit of this man; but
sorrow and suffering make for sacred force, and those who have never
felt it will fail to realize how it is that Alexander Berkman will
return to those who loved and esteemed him, to those whom he loved so
well, and still loves so well,--the oppressed and down-trodden
millions--with the same intense, sweet spirit and with a clearer and
grander vision of a world of human justice and equality.

UT SEMENTEM FECERIS, ITA METES.

By VOLTAIRINE DE CLEYRE

(To the Czar, on a woman, a political prisoner, being flogged to death
in Siberia.)

_How many drops must gather to the skies
Before the cloud-burst comes, we may not know;
How hot the fire