The Washington times., 1920-10-08

my life. IL is not my way. but
when we pay 30 much attention To =
symptom ss we pay TO this explosion
we Gloss our minds To the causes.
And here Dsbs smiled that doubly
gentle smile with which he marks
the approach of a difficulty or q
contradiction, and. his talking hands
were poised before him. Perhaps"
he said, lit all works together for
good. Sometimes l think It does. The
allies attack Russia. That gives her
her chance. 1t brings discordsnt ale
ments together. II they had been
let alone they would probably have
torn one another apart. So with this
bomb. II is not my way. But 1t
may put the fear Of God nto some
of those Wall Street fellows. 1t may
make them think a little"
He went back to the detectives.
The idea Of them haunted him. He
had seen too much of informers and
instigators, like those whom Federal
Judge Anderson recently delivered
his passionate though restrained
opinion against. But switched him
to another track. 1T is clear about
the Administration" l said, "but is
it important? We know, do we not,
that if we had any public opinion in
this country no administration could
keep Eugene Debs in prison week.
The Administration is nothing. Pub
lie opinion is everything. Why are
Americans SO dense when freedom Is
at stake ?"
"You have said i'll" cried Debs--
cried, / write, to indicate the fervor,
for his voice was low, soft and calm.
"You are right. 1t is the public that
matters. And l will tell you what
is the matter with the public"
BLAMES THE NEWSPAPERS.
No difficulties here. no doubts; all
eagerness, for here was the bitter
experiences of a lifetime. ut is the
newspapers. Oh, those lies! Those
lies! 1t is a lucky thing for me that
/ was shut up here in Atlanta prison
when that bomb went off in Wall
street. II I had been free they would
have had me as the cause Of it.
When the explosion occurred in the
building Of the Los Angeles Times,
Harrison Grey Otis publicly declared
that / was the cause. When Nc
Kinley was shot, / narrowly escaped
,ynching in my own State. l WAS
THE MURDERER.
have done to me among
my own people, in my &, own home
town. Before the war there was not
q man, woman or child who wasn't
my friend. You could walk up one
side Of the principal street and down
the other, and ask every person there
about me, and every one would say
a friendly word. / had lived there
a lifetime, and I can say that no
body ever came to me and went away
empty handed. 1 never failed to
help any kind of a person who want
ed help, if it was anything could
do. Now-now"-His lean, fine
head was thrown back and his long
arms spread wide.
DESERTED IN HOME TOWN.
To-day, if Eugene Debs should go
back to that home town of his, he
would no longer find it family of
friends. The people there now be-
lieve him some kind of a horrid
thing, an enemy of what is good.
The newspapers have done that"
EYES," said, at is the great evil.
But what can be done?"
"Ah," he answered, "that is it.
What can be done? But it is the
next task before US. 1t is the next
fight we must throw ourselves into
We 20 into it against great odds, al
most hopeless odds. Perhaps the
best hope is that the people after
awhile will come to disbelieve alto
gether what they read" He switch
ed suddenly, implying much about
why he was in a prison, among felons,
when he exclaimed: "They don't
want me out, the newspapers. They
know l could go onto the platform
and tell about them. They know
that I have the facts"
(The Third InstaIlment> toill be :
published in The Times
fo,,nrrO1y)