BY KARL MARX AND FREDERICK ENGELS (Published in 1848, the charter of the modern Socialist movement) The bourgeoisie, wherever it has got the upper hand, has put an end to all feudal, patriarchal, idyllic relations. It has pitilessly torn asunder the motley feudal ties that bound man to his "natural superiors," and has left remaining no other nexus between man and man than naked self-interest, than callous "cash payment." It has drowned the most heavenly ecstasies of religious fervor, of chivalrous enthusiasm, of philistine sentimentalism, in the icy water of egotistical calculation. It has resolved personal worth into exchange value, and in place of the numberless indefeasible chartered freedoms, has set up that single, unconscionable freedom--Free Trade. Portrait of an American BY LOUIS UNTERMEYER (See pages 42, 418) He slobbers over sentimental plays And sniffles over sentimental songs. He tells you often how he sadly longs For the ideals of the dear old days. In gatherings he is the first to raise His voice against "our country's shameful wrongs." He storms at greed. His hard, flat tone prolongs The hymns and mumbled platitudes of praise. I heard him in his office Friday past. "Look here," he said, "their talk is all a bluff; You mark my words, this thing will never last. Let them walk out--they'll come back quick enough. We'll have all hands at work--and working fast! How do they think we're running this--for _love_?" A Living Wage BY J. PIERPONT MORGAN (American banker; testimony before the United States Commission on Industrial Relations) QUESTION: Do you consider ten dollars a week enough for a 'longshoreman with a family to support? ANSWER: If that's all he can get, and he takes it, I should say it's enough. Impressions BY HAROLD MONRO (Contemporary English poet) He's something in the city. Who shall say His fortune was not honorably won? Few people can afford to give away As he, or help the poor as he has done. Neat in his habits, temperate in his life: Oh, who shall dare his character besmirch? He scarcely ever quarrels with his wife, And every Sabbath strictly goes to church. He helps the village club, and in the town Attends parochial meetings once a week, Pays for each purchase ready-money down: Is anyone against him?--Who will speak? There is a widow somewhere in the north, On whom slow ruin gradually fell, While she, believing that her God was wroth, Suffered without a word--or she might tell. And there's a beggar somewhere in the west, Whose fortune vanished gradually away: Now he but drags his limbs in horror lest Starvation feed on them--or he might say.