Such is the justice of God--the mercy of Christ. ***** WHILE reading the accounts of the coronation of the Czar, of the pageants, processions and feasts, of the pomp and parade, of the barbaric splendor, of cloth of gold and glittering gems, I could not help thinking of the poor and melancholy peasants, of the toiling, half-fed millions, of the sad and ignorant multitudes who belong body and soul to this Czar. I thought of the backs that have been scarred by the knout, of the thousands in prisons for having dared to say a whispered word for freedom, of the great multitude who had been driven like cattle along the weary roads that lead to the hell of Siberia. The cannon at Moscow were not loud enough, nor the clang of the bells, nor the blare of the trumpets, to drown the groans of the captives. I thought of the fathers that had been torn from wives and children for the crime of speaking like men. And when the priests spoke of the Czar as the "God-selected man," the "God-adorned man," my blood grew warm. When I read of the coronation of the Czarina I thought of Siberia. I thought of girls working in the mines, hauling ore from the pits with chains about their waists; young girls, almost naked, at the mercy of brutal officials; young girls weeping and moaning their lives away because between their pure lips the word Liberty had burst into blossom. Yet law neglects, forgets them, and crowns the Czarina. The injustice, the agony and horror in this poor world are enough to make mankind insane. Ignorance and superstition crown impudence and tyranny. Millions of money squandered for the humiliation of man, to dishonor the people. Back of the coronation, back of all the ceremonies, back of all the hypocrisy there is nothing but a lie. It is not true that God "selected" this Czar to rule and rob a hundred millions of human beings. It is all an ignorant, barbaric, superstitious lie--a lie that pomp and pageant, and flaunting flags, and robed priests, and swinging censers, cannot change to truth. Those who are not blinded by the glare and glitter at Moscow see millions of homes on which the shadows fall; see millions of weeping mothers, whose children have been stolen by the Czar; see thousands of villages without schools, millions of houses without books, millions and millions of men, women and children in whose future there is no star and whose only friend is death. The coronation is an insult to the nineteenth century. Long live the people of Russia! *****