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     The love of notoriety is a form of insanity strong among Socialists and acute among Anarchists. When socialism spreads anarchy grows. One is the forerunner of the other. The Socialist despises his country. It is not big enough for a fellow like him. He wants to take out his papers as a citizen of the world. So does the Anarchist, but he aspires to be “somebody in particular.” Seeing no immediate chance to distinguish himself, he determines to hurry up things. So in order to be somebody he becomes an assassin. In the wretched list of murderers for the gallery, from Booth to Czolgosz, we find precisely the same form of mental crase [sic]. The malady displays from time to time different symptoms, according to the more or less intellectual power of the subjects, but in its essence it is the same. In a word, it is a dangerous form of low down vanity.