KROPOTKIN'S "MUTUAL. AID" ng 



newspaper — and there are hundreds of them 

 in Europe alone — has the same history of 

 years of sacrifice without any hope of reward, 

 and, in the overwhelming majority of cases, 

 even without any personal ambition. I have 

 seen families living without knowing what 

 would be their food tomorrow, the husband 

 boycotted all round in his little town for his 

 part in the paper, and the wife supporting the 

 family by sewing, and such a situation last- 

 ing for years, until the family would retire, 

 without a word of reproach, simply saying: 

 'Continue; we can hold out no more!' I have 

 seen men, dying from consumption, and know- 

 ing it, and yet knocking about in snow and 

 fog to prepare meetings within a few weeks 

 from death, and only then retiring to the hos- 

 spital with the words: 'Now friends I am 

 done ; the doctors say I have but a few weeks 

 to live. Tell the comrades I shall be happy 

 if they come to see me.' I have seen facts 

 that would be described as 'idealization' if I 

 told them in this place; and the very names 

 of these men, hardly known outside a nar- 

 row circle of friends, will soon be forgotten 

 when the friends too have passed away. In 

 fact, I don't know myself which most to ad- 

 mire, the unbounded devotion of these few or 

 the sum total of petty acts of devotion of the 



