The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1929-06-05

fathers head his but reoelous
like halo and his beard which stuck
right angles his chin There something cdke this
wisdom.
Serge saw through the r,pusey
partly opened door, vast hall bahed in dusty tw
light with frawy of books shelves He heard the mumur
ing of pages
In this upon a The floor
sped slightly There only windows That why
guilty of temple ancient and saturated with decay No walls could
be only books from floor to ceiling in flowing parallel Why
they squeezed tightly
had alarmed their numbers threatening devOu his
life, and he pining for the light of the
VERocHKA smiled behind pile of books the counter nraptua
Serge Ivanih! Is it possible? Arsenitch.
moment. y. :"
hail. piece, booksand,
books his hair Serges
father clad long linen moc He looked at his son from affair." rails
the inclined floor noticed that he efooted his feet
disfgured and dirty covered with bunons and
it. altar and sit dopA
You had like those when chdthe Of on
possessed" hi
laughed confused whisper He looked 81 hAA
sharply and steadily with anxious questioning VI
"Do what is be possessed, Serge? It is s
exists necessity in namely, Sleep" a
smiled his fathers friendly and always v
in his felt joyuy excited He seemed gigantic and ne
plcably near to him.
HIS father laughing low and keeping his anxious questioning
He had something of the curiosity of
he uffng mouth laughing
ng felt that he had something serious and to tell
Don't you feel depressed in this cavern father?"
he fate of books Serge to be the prison of thought Each
book for human liberty Isn't true that all these shelves
look like bars Aspiring Immortality the human spirit produces
bokits tomb An memorable DOOM Serge is in
ent rebellion and rebellion than leap from to
another; from mothers womb into the womb of society," into the
shak of obligatory rules and from the grave! Marcus
Areu FOOL he knew how freedom while rafting his
his prison."
Gather liberty only
will with daectc necessity Man immortal in the dynamcs of
creative collectivm."
His father attentively
sceptic.
why inquire about mother? How would feel
if she to die today?"
Serge looking his fathers eyes,
as she very bad? I'd like her, only for minute
Shs dying from sorrowu love for her children She's dying
little Serge"
His eyebrows quvered in a that OF anguish
m going Be life, my
freedom from dependence As the world relative
happiness consists losing oneself in the Not only
Marcus Aurelus but Lucreus Carus himself could aav made
friend of me-"
CERGE felt benecient calm and tranquility in his SOUL In the
intervals of his tense and strenuous days. poisoned by seep9ss
his soul without thought unubed alone His
Nightmares the of the
slept and for tenour hours full of tobacco smoke and @
network of the Republic There nights the House
the Sovietsthe little which felt the
of over-strain, the auety of effort and semmoaton
my dear Serge your mother is very ill., Go to her Yes yes
child and you will give her great happiness"
Serge became and troubled In the confused words of
his father he felt noabe anxiety which mbued his words with
special meaning always days
childhood his youth his
which dissolve the depths of his leaving
nothing behind His father had always seemed like child and
passed his days the twilight of the library He looked with dsmay
and perpex the received for his work. stranger
his hom laughing shyy when the mother spoke him. always
in hurry The mother filled the whole house from kitchen bed
the night amidst his
with and with eyeds and swollen disappeared
"Come on, father. I want to see her now"
eyes, yes little Serge delighted very very
much But sten How will look behave
brother Dm Your brother brother Don't ask about
him; fear him than fear At rate
nothing because full of curiosity dear; and know,
is not the depths things simple
mentn glance in gesture this FRIEND
is the crucifxon of man. the which upon him."
At the Mothers Bedside
THE orchard surrounded by its fence, lay brownh Bare
branches and wg flexible
Only the almond bomd with thick
This garden had been planted by his fathers
still boy He walked along by the fence looking through the
chn and the wenown neglected the
abor of atcework covered with clusters of wild grapes He had
hammered together while he still highschoo boy the
stone house seemed and distant like childhood
Was it long time little Serge since you living and
growing here? Do you remember atic?"
The old laughed gripped Sege hand