ourse; still, we shall have to form an insurance company
against the slugging system of the reporters.

Alexander Berkman barely had a chance to breathe free air, when the
newspaper scarecrows were let loose at his heels. Every
suspicious-looking man, woman and child in New York was assailed as to
Berkman's whereabouts, without avail. Finally these worthy gentlemen
hit upon 210 East Thirteenth street--there the reporters made some
miraculous discoveries. Two lonely hermits, utterly innocent of the ways
of the world and the impertinence of reporters, were marked by the
latter. They triumphed. Never before had they hit upon such simpletons,
of whom they could so easily learn all the secrets of the fraternity of
the Reds.

"Is it not the custom of your clan to delegate every three days one of
your members to take the life of some ruler?" they asked.

One of the Reds smiled, knowingly. "Only one insignificant life in three
days?! How little you know the Anarchists. I want you to understand,
sirs, it is our wont to use just five minutes for each act, which means
864 lives in three days."

This was more than the most hardened press detective could stand. They
fled in terror.

[Illustration]

Carl Schurz, politician and career hunter by profession, died May 14th.
He was met at the gate of Hell by the secretary of that institution with
the following question, "Were you not one of the enthusiasts for the
battle of freedom, in your young days?"

"Yes," said Carl.

"If the reports of my men are correct--and I am confident my men are
more reliable than the majority of the newspaper men on your planet--you
were even a Revolutionist?"

Carl Schurz nodded.

"And why have you thrown your ideals and convictions overboard?"

"There was no money in them," Carl replied, sulkily.

The Satanic Secretary nodded to one of his stokers, saying, "Add 5,000
tons of hard coal to our fires. Here we have a man that sold his soul
for money. He deserves to roast a thousand times more than the ordinary
sinner."

[Illustration]

No one considers a thief the patron saint of honesty, nor is a liar
expected to champion the truth. The hangman is not elected as president
of a society for the preservation of human life; why, then, in the name
of common sense, do people continue to see in the State the seat of
justice and the patron saint of those whom it wrongs and outrages daily?

If people would only look closer into the elements of the S