"We did not give in without making an effort to secure justice. But, after several months, we knew that we were defeated. During all this time we had not been allowed to do any work in the factory. One thing, finally, the authorities permitted, and that was to run the costly machinery once a week, so that it should not grow rusty. Of course we had to sell, and at a heavy loss to people eagerly awaiting to develop what we had started." The peasants near nodded their appreciation of the conditions. One more excitable than his fellows jumped up. "Will a time never come when we shall be free? Will a time never come when the world recognizes the crime of using force to make people false to their own traditions?" he exclaimed. "To outsiders the Magyars boast of their liberal constitution, of the freedom granted to other nations in the kingdom. We who have no opportunities, who are not allowed a single higher school of our own, nor even a single Magyar Higher School where our language is taught, know what a lie this is. And what advantage is the Magyar language to our children outside of Hungary? Go even to Vienna or anywhere else in the monarchy, and try to make yourself understood with it! You'll see! And we were here before the Magyars; we helped them to know the glorious religion of Jesus Christ; we fought and bled as well as they for our native land." Here his voice changed curiously and a sort of exaltation lit up his face as he said softly: "We must have faith." Then he began to repeat some lines taken from the great Slovak poet Kollar's "Slavy Dcera" (The Daughter of Slava). "Stop! It is holy ground on which you tread. Son of the Tatra, raise your head toward heaven, Or rather guide your steps towards that oak tree, Which yet defies destructive Time. But worse than Time is man who has placed his iron scepter on thy neck, O Slava. Worse than wild War, more fearful than Thunder, than Fire, Is the man who, blinded by hate, rages against his own race." Then again: "He who is worthy of liberty, respects the liberty of all. He who forges irons to enslave others, is himself a slave. Be it that he fetters the language or the hands of others, It is the same, he proves himself unable to respect the rights of others." And once more: "Slavia, Slavia! Thou name of sweet sound but of bitter memory; hundred times divided and destroyed, but yet more honored than ever. "Much hast thou suffered, but ever hast thou survived the evil deeds of thy enemies, the evil ingratitude also of thy sons. "While others have built on soft ground, thou hast established thy throne on the ruins of many centuries." Here in a rich bass voice he broke forth into the Slovak national song: "Nad Tatrou sa bliska":