“There is corruption in the church. Members of its vestry have bribed the government of the town. They are robbing the people. The vestry has refused me a hearing and turned me out of the church. I appeal to the congregation. Next Wednesday evening, at eight o'clock, I will address a meeting on the vacant lot opposite the church, and will tell what I know. SAMUEL PRESCOTT.” “And what are you going to do with that?” asked Sophie in wonder. “I am going to have it printed on little slips, and give them out to the people when they are coming out of the church to-morrow morning.” “Oh, Samuel!” gasped the child. “I have to do it,” he said. “But, Samuel, everyone will come--people from all over town.” “I can't help that,” he answered. “I can't afford to hire a hall; and they wouldn't let me speak in the church.” “But can you get this printed so quickly?” “I don't know,” said he. “I must find some one.” Sophie clapped her hands suddenly. “Oh, I know just the very thing!” she cried. “Friedrich Bremer has a printing press!” “What!” “Yes. His father used to print things. They will tell us.” And so, without stopping to eat, the two hurried off to the Bremer family; and mother and father and all the children sat and listened in astonishment while Samuel told his tale. Friedrich was thrilling with excitement; and old Johann's red face grew fiery. “Herr Gott!” he cried. “I vas that vay myself once!” “And then will you help me to get them printed?” asked Samuel. “Sure!” replied the other. “I will do it myself. Vy did I go through the Commune?” And so the whole family adjourned to the attic, and the little printing outfit was dragged out from under the piles of rubbish. “I used it myself,” said the old carpet designer. “But vhen I come here they give me a varning, and I haf not dared. For two years I haf not even been to the meetings of the local.” “Of the what?” asked Samuel. “I am a Socialist,” explained Mr. Bremer. And Samuel gave a start. Ought he to accept any help from Socialists? But meantime Friedrich was sorting out the type, and his father was inspecting Samuel's copy. “You must make it vith a plenty of paragraphs,” he said; “and exclamation points, too. Then they vill read it.” “They'll read it!” said Friedrich grimly. “How shall we print it?” asked the father; and the children rushed downstairs and came back with some sheets of writing paper, and a lot of brown wrapping paper. They sat on the floor and folded and cut it, while Friedrich set the type. And this was the way of the printing of Samuel's first manifesto. “Can you make a speech?” Mrs. Bremer asked. “Won't you be frightened?” To which Samuel answered gravely: “I don't think so. I shall be thinking about what I have to say.”