of the press to stimulate it.

"We'll get the Social Revolution just as soon as we're educated up to
it," he was wont to declare. "If we get it before then, it'll be a worse
hash than capitalism. So let's go slow and learn."

For such a mind to be contributing to an organ of The Courier type might
seem anomalous. Often Edmonds accused himself of shameful compromise;
the kind of compromise constantly necessary to hold his place. Yet it
was not any consideration of self-interest that bound him. He could have
commanded higher pay in half a dozen open positions. Or, he could have
afforded to retire, and write as he chose, for he had been a shrewd
investor with wide opportunities. What really held him was his ability
to forward almost imperceptibly through the kind of news political and
industrial, which he, above all other journalists of his day, was able
to determine and analyze, the radical projects dear to his heart.
Nothing could have had a more titillating appeal to his sardonic humor
than the furious editorial refutations in The Courier, of facts and
tendencies plainly enunciated by him in the news columns.

Nevertheless, his impotency to speak out openly and individually the
faith that was in him, left always a bitter residue in his mind. It now
informed his answer to Van Cleve's characterization of his job.

"If I can sneak a tenth of the truth past the copy-desk," he said, "I'm
doing well. And what sort of man am I when I go up against these
big-bugs of industry at their conventions, and conferences, appearing as
representative of The Courier which represents their interests? A damned
hypocrite, I'd say! If they had brains enough to read between the lines
of my stuff, they'd see it."