A useful little biographical sketch of the great Anarchist-Communist, to give Peter Kropotkin the rather self-contradictory title he claims for himself. Its author, Victor Robinson, is a young man of marked ability and literary ambition who may do good and valuable work if he can only be induced to drop all his affectations and write simply.
"Let me alone; you too, when you grow up, will you not be just the same?"
"No, no, never!" cried the child, while the hot tears choked him and made him cough for breath.
The females of all animals, having dislikes and preferences, exercise the right of selection; rejecting one and receiving another; sending away a male who is repulsive to them, and accepting a wooer they find attractive.
Such absurd liberty was never allowed the serfs. They married when, where and whom the master wished. The Kropotkins owned a woman named Polya--intelligent and artistic--an exceptional serf. Her body was bound; her hands were doomed to labor; her talents brought benefits not to herself; her skill was at the service of others; her industry profited her owners; she was a chattel, chained and confined--but her heart could not be controlled. She deeply loved a neighboring servant, and was with child from him. The lover, forgetting the Russian proverb, "One cannot break a stone wall with his forehead," impl