I^OUNl) -ROBIN 
 S&^I&S 
 
 Th& Strike 
 
 B-MiLL 
 
 IN THE 
 
 
DUKE UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 The Glenn Negley Collection 
 of Utopian Literature 
 
 by 
 
 th 
 in- 
 
 'i. J\o person shall be entitled to draw more than 
 one book at a time. No volume shiill 1>e kept our 
 more than two weeks without renewal. A book can 
 be renewed but once. • 
 
 Any person retaining a volume more than tw<.> 
 weeks, without renewal, shall be required to pay a 
 tine of two cents for each day beyond the stated 
 time. 
 
 The person to whom a book is (•.hari;ed shall pay 
 the Librarian for any damage other than that inci- 
 ilent to ordinary usage. 
 
u 
 
 %-4^^ 
 
 
THE STRIKE IN THE B- MILL 
 
Round-Robin Series 
 
 The Strike in 
 the B 
 
 Mill 
 
 :a stubfi 
 
 ^KY TUflyy 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 TICKNOR AND COMPANY 
 
 1887 
 
Copyright, 18S7, 
 By Ticknor and Company. 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
 ELECTROTi'PED BY 
 
 C. J. Peters & Son, Boston. 
 

 PRE FACE. 
 
 If what is here written could, in some 
 degree, emphasize, in the minds of those 
 who may take the trouble to read it, the 
 evils and dangers attendant upon certain 
 manifestations of the present day in this 
 country, and their causes, its purpose will 
 be well served. 
 
 The Author. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. The Strike ^^ 
 
 II. Attempts at Adjustment 5^ 
 
 III. Continuance of the Strike . . . .115 
 IV. Minister and Daughter. — Coercive 
 
 Measures ^3^ 
 
 V. A Director ^^^ 
 
 VI. Mr. Hardy . . . ^^5 
 
 VII. Fate of the Reaction 19^ 
 
 VIII. Among THE People 212 
 
 IX. "Fiat Justitia," Etc 234 
 
 X. The Situation 247 
 
 XI. Some Bucolic Opinions 276 
 
 XII. Lawlessness 294 
 
 XIII. After the :fiMEUTE 3^^ 
 
 XIV. Conclusion ^^^ 
 
THE STRIKE IN THE B — MILL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE STRIKE. 
 
 (i 
 
 T T7ELL, we've done it. Now let's 
 ^ ^ see what the Corporation will 
 make of it." 
 
 This was said by a tall, handsome man, 
 who, in shirt-sleeves and with his coat 
 hanging on his arm, entered a pleasant 
 sitting-room in one of thje better class of 
 
 tenement houses in F . 
 
 His pretty wife, whom he addressed, sat 
 by the open window, sewing, — for it was 
 a warm day in October, — and two little 
 children played together on the carpet at 
 her feet. 
 
12 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 " So you've really struck, John ? " she 
 said, looking up quickly from her work, 
 with an anxious expression clouding her 
 comely face. 
 
 " Yes. The order came just before noon, 
 and we all marched out: All of us 'Asso- 
 ciates,' that is. There are two or three 
 hundred others, you know; but they'll have 
 to stop work, I guess, as there'll be nothing 
 for them to do, now we're gone." 
 
 " Well," returned his wife, " I suppose 
 some of you had reason enough, if they 
 don't get fair wages." 
 
 "Yes; they ought to give what we ask, 
 that's a fact. It isn't much of an advance, 
 and that only in some departments." 
 
 Vance, for that was the man's name — 
 John Vance — went into a back room and 
 washed his hands, and came back putting 
 on his coat. He seated himself in a chair, 
 and, reaching down, lifted the youngest of 
 
The Strike. 13 
 
 the two children, — a beautiful little boy of 
 two years, with dark hair and eyes, — to his 
 knee. The other boy, somewhat older, ran 
 across the room, and, sure of his welcome, 
 climbed upon the other knee. Their father, 
 who was evidently very fond of them, 
 played with them a moment or two, but 
 with rather a preoccupied air; then, again 
 addressing his wife, he said: — 
 
 "Bradford and the others say that we 
 shall get the advance we ask for." 
 
 " Who is Bradford — and the others, who 
 are they, John ? " 
 
 "Why, he and Murphy are our Execu- 
 tive Committee; and you've heard me 
 speak often enough of Darragh, the last 
 few days." 
 
 " Oh, yes. You say he's a fine man." 
 
 " He is that," said Vance. " As nice a 
 man as I ever saw. Careful and safe." 
 
 " And how are we to live, John, until the 
 
14 The Strike i?i the B Mill, 
 
 Company makes up its mind? I don't want 
 to draw our little money from the bank, 
 you know. And there is'nt but a little of 
 it, any way." 
 
 " Oh, there will be contributions from all 
 around. They say there's plenty that'll 
 come in if we need it. But the mill isn't 
 going to stand out long," he added, confi- 
 dently. 
 
 The woman bit off the end of a thread 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " I am not quite so sure about that," she 
 said, slowly. " They may think you won't 
 be able to stand out long yourselves, and 
 may wait awhile to see." She thought a 
 moment. "I don't like the looks of things," 
 she went on. " There are too many strikes. 
 Here you, who are getting wages that sat- 
 isfy you, obliged to stop because somebody 
 else in the mill is not getting enough. That 
 don't seem right to me, exactly. But per- 
 
The Strike. IS 
 
 haps you know best," she added. Then 
 looking at her husband and seeming to 
 recall something, she said, suddenly. " But 
 why weren't you home to dinner, John?" 
 She arose as she spoke and went to the 
 stove. " I've kept something for you in the 
 oven, but it's three o'clock most, and I'm 
 afraid it can't be good for much now." 
 
 " Oh," rejoined her husband, " never 
 mind that. I got something to eat at 
 O'Flaherty's with the rest of the men. 
 We wanted to talk things over." 
 
 His wife looked at him more closely, 
 though rather furtively, and, observing his 
 flushed face, she averted her eyes instantly, 
 and, again -sitting down, bent over her 
 work. Presently she said, with a little hes- 
 itation, " There's more to drink than to eat 
 sold at O'Flaherty's. I wish you wouldn't 
 go there, dear. Now you're without work, 
 don't get into bad ways, John." 
 
i6 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 "Well, I don't mean to, Mary," said he, 
 good-humoredly. 
 
 His wife smiled, then sighed a little. 
 Vance chatted and played awhile with 
 the children; then, setting them down, he 
 stretched himself, and looked out of the 
 w^indow. The unusual idleness in the 
 middle of the day was irksome to him. 
 After standing about for a little time he 
 thoughtfully filled his pipe, lighted it, and 
 slowly sauntered out. Mary Vance sewed 
 on awhile after he had gone, then dropped 
 her work on her lap and sat with still fin- 
 gers and bent brow, lost in thought. She 
 was aroused in a few moments by the salu- 
 tation of a young woman in the loose drag- 
 gled gown and faded shawl so commonly 
 seen in factory towns, who stopped in the 
 hall and looked in at the open door. As 
 she leaned against the door-frame in a 
 weary attitude, she looked enviously over 
 the pleasant room. 
 
The Strike. 17 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Fanny," said Mrs. 
 Vance, glancing up at her pleasantly. 
 
 "Good-afternoon," she replied, in a rather 
 discontented tone. " We're through at the 
 B , I suppose you know." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Vance. " My husband 
 has been telling me about it. It's been 
 talked of for some time." 
 
 " It'll be a good while before we go in 
 that mill again, I'm thinking," said the 
 other, despondently. 
 
 " Didn't you want to strike?" asked Mrs. 
 Vance. 
 
 " Ah, no," answered the girl, for she was 
 but a girl in years. " Perhaps I'd not 
 enough of wages; they said I was of those 
 underpaid. But I could get along, me and 
 the baby. And now, God knows what 
 we'll do if the strike lasts. The money 
 I've earned this two weeks is all I've got 
 in the world, and where'll I get any more.^ 
 
1 8 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 I can't go away because of the baby; and I 
 couldn't, maybe, find work. They say 
 we're to have money from the order, but 
 where it's coming from, with strikes all 
 about, I don't see." Her face flushed, as she 
 grew excited by her foreboding thoughts, 
 and, when she concluded, the tears stood in 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Vance, "John's been 
 contributing every week or fortnight for 
 some time back, to help somebody else in 
 other places, and it will be rather hard if 
 the B folks can't get help now them- 
 selves." 
 
 " I don't care," burst out the young girl, 
 passionately; "I wish the ^Associates of 
 Toil ' would let me alone! First, they make 
 me join them, and then they throw me out 
 of my work when I want to keep on. The 
 bosses is mean enough, perhaps, but, if I 
 was satisfied to work, it's my business. If 
 
The Strike. 19 
 
 me and the baby goes hungry, who's to 
 blame?" She wiped her eyes with the 
 corner of her shawl. " Well," she added, 
 resignedly, " I must go along. I'm hoping 
 they'll patch up and let us back to work 
 soon. Good-bye," and she slowly ascended 
 the stairs. 
 
 A quarter of a mile down the village 
 
 street, in the office of the B Mill, that 
 
 afternoon, the paymaster and his clerks 
 were hard at work upon the pay-rolls; 
 while in an interior room the superinten- 
 dent of the factory was closeted with the 
 president and treasurer of the corporation. 
 The latter gentlemen had been informed by 
 telegraph of the strike, and had come down 
 from the neighboring city by rail. 
 
 They seemed considerably harassed, but 
 the superintendent had the air of a man 
 who, in the presence of a disaster, finds 
 
20 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 in it only the realization of his expecta- 
 tions. 
 
 The situation of affairs was naturally the 
 topic of their conversation. " This matter 
 of wages," said the superintendent, " I have, 
 as you are aware, considered for some time, 
 and my opinion regarding them remains 
 unchanged. I feel that, though times are 
 hard, some, if not all, these demands should 
 be granted." He pointed as he spoke to a 
 paper lying upon the table, that contained 
 the demands of the strikers, with the wages 
 as requested, arranged in tabulated form. 
 
 '' I do not altogether disagree with you," 
 said the president, " were it certain that 
 concessions would not be followed by other 
 and more unreasonable demands. As I am 
 not too familiar with these matters, pray 
 regard this as a mere suggestion, you 
 know." 
 
 ^' In my judgment," replied the superin- 
 
The Strike, 21 
 
 tendent, "that does not at all affect the 
 matter we have to consider." 
 
 The superintendent was a quiet, deter- 
 mined-looking man, though with a habitu- 
 ally kind expression of face. His speech 
 was slow and measured. 
 
 "I, as you know, gentlemen," he went 
 on, " came up from the ranks — have been 
 a factory hand myself, and in my present 
 position am brought much nearer to the 
 operatives than you. I know their needs, 
 and the amount and value of their work, 
 better than you possibly can. If they are 
 earning more than they are receiving, as 
 this sort of work is being paid for to-day, it 
 should be an abstract question of justice 
 with us to right this — " 
 
 "Very much so — certainly," said the 
 president, w^ho had listened attentively. " I 
 should say that would be right — very." 
 
 " Yes — and when," continued the super- 
 
2 2 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 intendent; "we have made such conces- 
 sions as we believe to be right, and the 
 hands are still unsatisfied, we can take our 
 stand with clear consciences, and the blame 
 of the strike will lie with them, not us." 
 
 The president made no further reply, but 
 arose from his chair and walked thought- 
 fully up and down the room with his hands 
 in his pockets. Notwithstanding his inter- 
 est in the superintendent's views, he seemed 
 tired and somewhat disgusted with the 
 whole business. 
 
 The treasurer, who was evidently the 
 most important person present, and occu- 
 pied the largest arm-chair, had been hith- 
 erto leaning back in that comfortable article 
 of furniture, placidly smoking as he listened 
 to the superintendent. He now took his 
 cigar from his lips and said to him, "You 
 regard this strike, then, as justifiable, Mr. 
 Malcolm?" 
 
The Strike, 23 
 
 The superintendent turned his head and 
 looked at the other in silence for a moment. 
 Then, with his slowness of speech intensi- 
 fied, he said, firmly, " Mr. Hartwell, during 
 the past three months, I have constantly 
 spoken to you of the discontent existing in 
 the mill, and have formally reported it to 
 the directors; and equally, I have urged 
 some increase of wages in certain depart- 
 ments, where our hands are paid less than 
 in other corporations for similar work. I 
 will not go into particulars, but you know 
 exactly the men who are so underpaid. The 
 difference is not great, but it is there, and 
 these are not times when it is possible to 
 maintain such differences, apart from the 
 question of right. My view^s on this subject 
 have been familiar to you, and I do not like 
 your assuming that I look on the strike with 
 favor because of them." The superinten- 
 dent stopped a moment, then added: "I 
 
24 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 detest strikes, and consider the ' Associates 
 of Toil ' as a most mischievous organization 
 in the main; more hurtful to the laborer, 
 indeed, than to us. But if I do not like the 
 methods employed to obtain what they 
 want, that does not alter my opinion of the 
 justice of some of the demands our opera- 
 tives are now making." 
 
 He stopped, opened his lips as if to speak 
 farther, then appeared to think he had said 
 enough; giving a twist to his revolving- 
 office chair, he reached a paper knife from 
 the table and, slowly turning it in his 
 fingers, remained silent. 
 
 The treasurer was a dignified gentleman, 
 of courteous demeanor, but his eye sparkled 
 and the puffs of smoke from his cigar were 
 rather more rapid than usual as he listened 
 to his subordinate. 
 
 Controlling such annoyance as he may 
 have felt, however, he replied in his ordi- 
 
Tlie Strike, 25 
 
 nary bland tone, " You must not forget, my 
 dear sir, that we are servants of the Cor- 
 poration, and cannot treat these matters as 
 personal to ourselves," — 
 
 "You are a rather heavy stockholder," 
 interrupted the superintendent, " and I own 
 considerable myself." 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," said the treasurer, 
 " but our position is one of trust for others 
 as well as ourselves. Personally," he con- 
 tinued, with his mildest manner, "person- 
 ally, nothing would afford me greater pleas- 
 ure than to pay generous wages, but duty 
 prevents the gratification of such a feeling. 
 Philanthropy is not business, Mr. Malcolm. 
 We must buy our labor upon substantially 
 the same basis that we do our cotton. But 
 apart from this, I feel very strongly that we 
 should have nothing whatever to do with 
 this organization who have sent in this im- 
 pudent demand. The directors will meet 
 
26 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 to-morrow here. I shall agree to no con- 
 cession — at least until the men are willinor 
 
 o 
 
 to deal with you individually." 
 
 " I doubt very much," said the superin- 
 tendent, " whether they will do that at 
 present." 
 
 "They must!" said the treasurer, rather 
 angrily. "And when they do it will be 
 time enough to consider any possible 
 change of wages, which matter, it seems 
 to me, we are prematurely discussing." 
 
 " I cannot see," retorted the superinten- 
 dent, " how the vital trouble here can be 
 considered too early or often between us. 
 It has to be faced, and the sooner, the 
 better." 
 
 " Well, well, perhaps so," impatiently 
 responded the other, " and very likely it 
 may not be settled quite as you anticipate. 
 I, at least, have never agreed with you 
 there." Then turning and touching a bell 
 
The Strike, 27 
 
 upon the table, he spoke to the paymaster, 
 who looked in. 
 
 " I will have the funds down to-morrow, 
 Beach," he said, " and you can pay off then, 
 if your rolls are ready." 
 
 " That will be impossible, Mr. Hartwell," 
 answered the paymaster. " Being wholly 
 unprepared, we cannot have them done 
 until Friday morning, working almost night 
 and day." 
 
 " Then give notice for Friday, and let us 
 have that matter out of the way as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 "Any hard words or demonstrations 
 among the men, Mr. Malcolm?" he asked, 
 again addressing the superintendent. 
 
 "None at all, sir. Many appeared very 
 unwilling to quit work, and in the dye-rooms 
 and machine-shop the men would not have 
 stirred, I believe, were it not for the disci- 
 pline of the organization. They and many 
 others are content with their wages." 
 
28 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 " They all ought to be," said the treasurer, 
 as he lighted a fresh cigar. 
 
 " Some of those," continued the superin- 
 tendent, with a little extra emphasis, " whom 
 I regard as underpaid, have been so long 
 discontented that I expected some loud 
 talk. But they treated us to none what- 
 ever." 
 
 "Very well," said the treasurer; "but 
 neglect no proper police precautions. You 
 cannot tell," he added, with a little smile, 
 " exactly where a striker may strike." 
 
 " All that will be attended to," answered 
 the superintendent. " Some of the police 
 will, I've no doubt, be detailed for duty here 
 if required. And I shall have a number of 
 special constables sworn in for steady ser- 
 vice as watchmen. There are a large num- 
 ber of our men not ^Associates of Toil,' who 
 will be employed for some time here clear- 
 ing up, if this thing lasts, and we have a 
 
The Strike* 29 
 
 large line of those prints to ship to New 
 York as you ordered. There is a good deal 
 of work to be done." 
 
 Mr. Phillips, the president, though listen- 
 ing attentively to the conversation, had 
 shown no disposition to take part in it be- 
 yond his first brief suggestion, and had con- 
 tinued pacing the room, or had sat with one 
 leg on the table as the discussion went for- 
 ward. 
 
 " If you are ready, Hartwell," he now re- 
 marked, picking up his hat, "perhaps we 
 had better start for our train. It goes at 
 
 4:30." 
 
 "So it does; well, good-aflernoon, Mr. 
 Malcolm ; we shall see you to-morrow." 
 
 " Our friend seems rather to side with the 
 strikers," said the president, as they walked 
 down the street.' 
 
 "Not quite that," said Mr. Hartwell; 
 "but he is always soft-hearted toward the 
 
30 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 laboring man, and gives me considerable 
 trouble with his fads and notions of what 
 they ought to have done for them in the 
 mill. He doesn't get very far with me 
 there. However, he is an exceedingly val- 
 uable man, and we could not get on without 
 him.'' 
 
 They talked of other things until, as they 
 were parting on the platform of their home 
 station, the president said, suddenly: — 
 
 " I'm not sure that old Malcolm isn't half 
 right about the laboring men, after all. Per- 
 haps we don't give them quite as fair a 
 chance as they deserve." 
 
 The treasurer looked a little annoyed, but 
 forced a laugh, and they parted. 
 
 The superintendent, upon their departure, 
 put on his hat and went into the factory, and 
 was in consultation with one of his non-union 
 foremen on the second floor, when the door 
 
The Strike, 31 
 
 opening from the stair landing slammed, and 
 a man entered and walked toward them 
 down one of the long aisles between the 
 looms. 
 
 He was good-looking and sunburned, 
 dressed in a gray suit and slouch hat; and 
 he carried a buggy whip in his hand. 
 
 He greeted Mr. Malcolm with a heart}^ 
 voice, and nodded pleasantly to the fore- 
 man. 
 
 " They seem to have done it at last, Mr. 
 Malcolm," he said. 
 
 "Yes," replied Malcolm, "they've gone out, 
 I'm sorry to say. My regret lies in the fact 
 that the thing might and ought to have been 
 averted. I told you the other day, down at 
 the farm, that I feared that it was inevitable." 
 
 " Yes," said the other, " and I agreed with 
 you. I have driven over," he continued, 
 "to ask if things are likely to be quiet and 
 orderly for the present, and whether your 
 
32 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 knowledge of the temper of the men would 
 lead you to suggest any immediate police 
 precautions." 
 
 "I do not think, Mr. Brayton," said the 
 superintendent, " that the strike will be of 
 long duration; for, as I look at it, we are 
 bound to make some concessions, and if 
 they are met in the right spirit, and no out- 
 side complications are introduced, it ought 
 to be settled in a day or two." 
 
 " I w^as just told of a man," said Brayton, 
 " whom they called Darragh, a member 
 of the General Executive Board of the ^ As- 
 sociates of Toil,' who appears to have hap- 
 pened around here about this time on some 
 matter, and rather instigated this movement. 
 But they say he is a very good fellow, not- 
 withstanding, and likely to counsel modera- 
 tion. Do you know him? " 
 
 " Yes, by reputation, which agrees with 
 what you have been told. He, I under- 
 
The Strike. -^t^ 
 
 stand, drew up the schedule of wages that 
 they demand, and I am bound to sa}^ that it 
 is very reasonable." 
 
 "What police force have you in the town, 
 by the way? " he added. 
 
 " I am ashamed to say," replied Bray- 
 ton, " that I do not exactly know. But 
 there cannot be over five or six regular 
 ofl^cers." 
 
 " That is not much of a force," said Mal- 
 colm. 
 
 " No," said Brayton; " but, notwithstand- 
 ing your people, we have always had a quiet 
 community." 
 
 The superintendent was stooping to pick 
 out some shreds from a loom. 
 
 "That is too few, I should sa}^, at any 
 time, however," he said, rising. 
 
 "Well," answered Brayton, smiling, "you 
 know our New England idea has always 
 been to obey the laws and keep the peace 
 
34 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 ourselves, without the intervention of many 
 policemen." 
 
 "Yes," said Malcolm; "but these people 
 w^ho have been coming into the country by 
 the million are many of them new to the 
 American ideas, and some of them are very 
 slow to learn them. You have to think of 
 that." 
 
 " Well," said Brayton, " in a case like the 
 present, we certainly ought to bear it in 
 mind. Our board meets to-night, and we 
 shall qualify a number of specials. Give 
 me the benefit of your advice as to how 
 many ought to be needed." 
 
 " Better have enough," said Malcolm. 
 " My judgment would be that while few 
 may be required if things go as I hope, still 
 they make take another turn, and you may 
 need a good many. It is better to have 
 them quietly sworn in now and available 
 when needed, than to take such measures 
 
The Strike, 35 
 
 later, when it would attract more attention, 
 and perhaps intensify existing bad feeling." 
 
 " Yes," said Brayton, thoughtfully, " that 
 is certainly the wiser plan." 
 
 " All our night watchmen," Mr. Malcolm 
 went on, " are now constables; but, if you 
 have no objection, I should like to send in 
 a few others to-night to be qualified as such, 
 as we must now have watchmen day as well 
 as night." 
 
 "All right; send them along," said Bray- 
 ton. 
 
 They walked together down the long 
 room between the hundreds of idle looms, 
 across which the level rays of the afternoon 
 sun were shining, unburdened by the parti- 
 cles of dust that filled the air when they 
 were in active operation. 
 
 The superintendent stopped, laying his 
 hand on one of the looms. 
 
 "Man and boy, Mr. Brayton, I have got 
 
^6 The Strike in tlie B Mill. 
 
 my living out of these things, both in Eng- 
 land and here." 
 
 " They've been much improved," said 
 Brayton, " since you began, I take it." 
 
 " Yes — they, and the application of the 
 power that drives them, have been altered 
 from time to time; but the principle remains 
 the same. You will hardly believe it, per- 
 haps, but the old hand-loom can still make 
 the best cloth. That is what I was taught 
 to work on as a boy. I left there when very 
 young," continued Mr. Malcolm, " but I am 
 told that they are still much in use in my 
 old district and in other parts of England 
 and Scotland." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Brayton; "I was not 
 aware of that." 
 
 "Yes," said the other, "and for fine 
 woollen cloths they are still the best. But 
 it's a slow process compared to that where 
 other power is used, of course ; and where. 
 
The Strike, 
 
 37 
 
 as in this mill, we manufacture cotton, wool- 
 len, and mixed cloths, all under the same 
 roof, by the thousands of yards, the old 
 hand-loom seems a small affair, in spite of 
 its excellent work. You see, Mr. Brayton," 
 he continued, after a pause, " I began at the 
 bottom, and I have lots of sympathy with 
 those who are there yet. Some of the men 
 think I'm rather hard because I try to do my 
 duty and expect them to do theirs. But 
 they haven't a better friend than I, and many 
 of them, I think, know it." 
 
 " It is a great pity," said Brayton, " that 
 these people have left their work. They 
 can't afford to do it, most of them, for a day. 
 I hope you can give them what they want, 
 and have them soon back." 
 
 " I hope so, most sincerely," said the 
 superintendent, earnestly, " for their own 
 sakes far more than ours; though, of course, 
 it's a loss all around, I'll admit. A rest 
 
38 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 from production last year might not have 
 hurt us. But we are just now in such a po- 
 sition with regard to certain lines of goods 
 that a long delay will certainly injure us." 
 
 " Yes," replied Brayton; "but I couldn't 
 probably understand it very well if explained. 
 I am only a farmer, now, you know. 
 Possibly I might be more intelligent if we 
 were speaking of the operation of a smelt- 
 ing furnace, or the simple conditions gov- 
 erning the production of gold and silver. 
 Well, I must get home," he added, " as I 
 have to drive in again this evening." 
 
 They had been moving down the stairs, 
 and Brayton stepped from the door and, un- 
 hitching his horse, got into his light trotting 
 wagon and drove out of the court-yard. 
 
 The mare he drove would have at- 
 tracted the attention of more critical ej^es 
 than those that admiringly followed her in 
 the streets of F , by her extreme beauty; 
 
The Strike, 39 
 
 and the swift, stealing gait with which she 
 whirled her master's vehicle toward home 
 was rhythmical in its smoothness and ca- 
 dence. 
 
 As Brayton drove the handsome creature 
 with a light hand down the long village 
 street, he looked cm^iously at the groups of 
 idle men hanging about the corners or 
 slowly sauntering along the sidewalks. In 
 a large city there is so constant a flow of 
 humanity through the streets at all times 
 that any change in the conditions of a 
 large number of people creates hardly any 
 
 change. But in a small village like F , 
 
 the suddenly acquired leisure of over two 
 thousand men and women altered the whole 
 appearance of the place. They seemed to 
 overflow everywhere. 
 
 Brayton noticed that the men, for the 
 most part, seemed in high good-humor, and 
 to be having rather a good time of it. 
 
40 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 Their faces wore a look of triumph born of 
 their recent act of self-assertion, as they 
 regarded it; and it seemed to him as 
 though it were idle to fear any evil from 
 these good-natured men, who appeared at 
 peace with themselves and the world. 
 
 But he presently drove by the door of a 
 drinking saloon, and saw it vomit forth a 
 crowd of men with flushed faces and thick 
 loud speech. Then he saw the shadow of 
 future trouble, and the possible necessity for 
 the precautions he had contemplated. 
 
 The son of a small storekeeper in F , 
 
 George Brayton had early in life gone to 
 California, where, as fortunate and more 
 prudent, perhaps, than many others, he had 
 by hard work quickly acquired a small 
 competency, with which he returned to 
 settle near his old home. 
 
 He purchased a large farm a couple of 
 miles out of the village, and had expended 
 
The Strike. 
 
 41 
 
 much money in the raising of very particu- 
 hir stock, and in other costly agricultural 
 experiments of various kinds. 
 
 As an old townsboy and a very good 
 fellow to boot, he was w^ell received, and 
 rather popular; and, much against his incli- 
 nation, had been chosen this year a member 
 of the board of selectmen, and was now 
 its chairman. He had said, when objecting 
 to this troublesome honor, that if the village 
 were as he left it, a little Yankee farming 
 community, he should not have minded 
 serving them, but, with this great mill that 
 he had found on his return from the West, 
 and between two and three thousand addi- 
 tional, partly floating, and largely foreign, 
 population, it was not so pleasant a town to 
 govern. 
 
 He^ reached home in a sharp drive of a 
 few minutes, and, leaving the team in the 
 stable-yard, went into the house. 
 
42 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 " Well, mother," he said to the pleasant- 
 looking old lady whom he found seated at 
 the tea-table, " I see Pm a little late, and, if 
 you please, Fll sit right down, as I must go 
 back to town this evening." 
 
 "What takes you there so soon again, 
 George?" she said, looking up at him 
 through her glasses. " Is it to see 
 Ellen?" 
 
 " No, though I shall try to get into Mr. 
 Hardy's if I have time. There is a special 
 meeting of the selectmen to-night, and I 
 must be there. This strike makes it neces- 
 sary to take some unusual measures." 
 
 " You don't fear any trouble, do you, 
 George ? " 
 
 "Oh, no — I think not. But an ounce 
 of prevention, you know, mother, is often 
 advisable." 
 
 They talked of different matters, and 
 presently the old lady remarked that she 
 
The Strike, 43 
 
 supposed George knew how sick the me- 
 rino buck was. 
 
 "Sick? No, I didn't," he answered, 
 quickly, looking up from his plate. "I 
 should think," he went on, "Johnson had 
 better speak to me about a thing like that." 
 
 "Hannah told me," said Mrs. Brayton, 
 "that he was taken this afternoon. Johnson, 
 no doubt, meant to tell you this evening." 
 
 " I declare," exclaimed Brayton, pushing 
 away his cup, and looking moodily before 
 him, " Isn't it too bad? I've lost one already. 
 Why couldn't this fellow die before I paid 
 a hundred dollars for him? Well," he con- 
 tinued, "I can't help it. Johnson knows 
 how to doctor him." 
 
 " On the whole," he said, after thinking a 
 minute or two, " I believe I'll sell my sheep 
 and get rid of Johnson." 
 
 "What! your beautiful merinos, that you 
 are so fond of ? " 
 
44 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 "Yes, why not? they have been a con- 
 stant outgo; and I've been thinking it time 
 to pull myself together a little. This labor 
 movement seems to be spreading in every 
 direction, and, though it don't touch me 
 yet, things may get into such a condition, 
 throughout the country, as shall impoverish 
 us all before w^e are through with it. I'll 
 sell the sheep," he went on, "and clear out 
 a lot of my high-priced colts and heifers, 
 and get down to more legitimate farming. 
 Don't be troubled, mother," he continued, 
 laughing, as that lady looked a little anx- 
 ious. He turned his chair so that he could 
 look out of the window and under the trees 
 across his broad fields, stretching toward 
 the sunset sky. 
 
 " There is no need of worrying," he con- 
 tinued, " for I have a farm here that will 
 take care of us, and some others besides, I 
 hope, whatever comes. Ah, there is some 
 
The Strike, 45 
 
 one," he added, as a large shadow fell 
 across the hall, and a knock sounded on 
 the lintel of the open outside door; for the 
 evening was as warm as the day had been. 
 
 He stepped into the hall, and Mrs. Bray- 
 ton heard a loud voice say: " Haow air ye, 
 George? I wuz up this way, and wanted 
 ter look at one uv them grade Durhams uv 
 yourn. Though it's kinder late, tew be 
 sure. No, I wun't come in, thank ye." 
 
 Brayton lighted a cigar, and went with 
 his visitor across the well kept lawn and up 
 the driveway to the barn, where that expe- 
 rienced person proceeded to examine some 
 pretty cattle that stood in the yard, as well 
 as the fast-falling dusk would permit. 
 
 ^^Nice-lookin' critters," he observed, tak- 
 ino- a chew of tobacco. "But," he added, 
 tentatively, as he rolled the tobacco com- 
 fortably into his cheek, "ye can't see 'em 
 jest so well in this light." 
 
46 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 "You know what they are, INIr. Brad- 
 shaw," said Brayton, " and hardly need to 
 look at them. I am willing to sell, for I 
 mean to reduce my herd more than usual 
 this flill." 
 
 "Yaas?" said Mr. Bradshaw, regarding 
 Brayton with a ludicrously earnest gaze. 
 " But they dew say ye hold 'em pritty mid- 
 dlin' high, naow, George." 
 
 Mr. Bradshaw was rather tbnd of Bray- 
 ton, and treated him with a paternal famil- 
 iarity, to which he had not the least objec- 
 tion. 
 
 " Oh, well," said Brayton, with a laugh, 
 " I have such a high regard for you that Til 
 try and not overreach you. Come, make 
 me an offer for a pair of them ; and take 
 your pick. They are all so good that Fm 
 quite indifferent as to which you select." 
 
 Mr. Bradshaw was a tall, raw-boned 
 flu'mer, with a good-natured twinkle in his 
 
The Strike, 47 
 
 e3'e, that revealed the dry humor that was 
 one of his prevailing characteristics. But 
 a cow trade, however agreeable, was no 
 laughing matter, and, as he now worked 
 himself through the bars and walked about 
 among the animals, carefully scrutinizing 
 their points, his face was very grave. 
 
 " George," he said, solemnly, after a 
 lengthy inspection, " I ivisli it war' n't gittin' 
 so dark. I like them two large red critters: 
 but 'tain't no use decidin'," he added, with 
 a despondent shake of his head; " I couldn't 
 like ter say what they w^uz wuth, in all this 
 dark." 
 
 He came out through the bars and stood 
 contemplating Brayton with a look of dreamy 
 calculation that indicated that he was men- 
 tally struggling with the preparation of an 
 offer in spite of the darkness. 
 
 " Naow," he finally said, concluding to 
 shift this great responsibility to Brayton's 
 
48 The Strike in the B Mill 
 
 shoulders; '' naow, what would yer idee be 
 fur them two? " 
 
 "They are worth more," said Brayton, 
 " but I don't want to winter them, and you 
 can take them for one hundred and seventy- 
 five dollars." 
 
 "That'll dew! that'll dew, George," ex- 
 claimed Mr. Bradshaw, with a simulated 
 excitement that would have deceived the 
 unwary. " 'Tain't no use't uv us to talk. 
 I can't give no sech money. Waal, I must 
 be a-goin' — good-night, good-night," he 
 added, as he went over to where his horse 
 and wao-on were standing:. He untied the 
 animal, climbed into the wagon, and started 
 off with a jerk; then checked the horse, and 
 reflected with his elbows on his knees. 
 
 " George," he called softly through the 
 darkness. 
 
 " Hallo," answered Brayton, coming to- 
 ward the wagon. 
 
The Strike, 49 
 
 " George — haow would a hundred and 
 my crumpled-horn Dutch cow suit ye? 
 she's a mighty likely cow, I tell ye, naow. 
 They ain't wuth it : but I think a sight 
 uv ye^ tew, George," he added, with a 
 twinkle of the eye that the darkness could 
 not quite conceal. 
 
 " No, Mr. Bradshaw," said Brayton, flick- 
 ing the ashes from his cigar; "I ought to 
 have two hundred for them. Think my 
 ofl:er over." 
 
 "Waal," said the other, "I will; but 
 'tain't no use. Not a mite." He consid- 
 ered a moment. " Half Durham ye said, 
 George?" 
 
 "Yes, more than that," said Brayton. 
 
 "Um-m-m," pondered Mr. Bradshaw; 
 "waal, P'<9c<^-nicrht. Mother'll think I'm 
 lost, I'm fear'd. And mother knows how t' 
 speak uv anythin' thet's bin layin' on her 
 mind fur an hour or two," he added, with a 
 
50 The Stf'ike in the B Mill, 
 
 gasping chuckle, as he drove off, highly 
 pleased with this auspicious opening of a 
 trade that was likely to last for a month or 
 two, at least. Indeed, a similar transac- 
 tion had been known to serve Mr. Bradshaw 
 as a pleasant recreation for his idle hours 
 during an entire winter, and until the grow- 
 ing pressure of spring w^ork hastened its 
 consummation, or decided the parties to 
 finally declare off. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 ATTEMPTS AT ADJUSTMENT. 
 
 T^HE great factory stood silent and 
 -^ deserted. The smoke of its fires no 
 longer ascended from the throats of the tall 
 chimneys. The whir and rattle of its 
 machinery were still, and the tread of hun- 
 dreds of feet and sound of talk and laugh- 
 ter, heard morning, noon, and night for so 
 man}' years, were replaced by the foot- fall 
 of the solitary watchman on the flags of 
 the court or ascending the deserted stair- 
 ways. 
 
 On the farther side, the waters of the wide 
 river, no longer partially diverted into the 
 flume, poured over the dam with ceaseless 
 roar, and dashed swiftly by the stone foun- 
 dations of the huge group of buildings that 
 
 51 
 
5 2 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 overhung the stream. Always hitherto as- 
 sociated with the activities of men and the 
 noise of their occupancy, the great silent 
 pile now stood there seemingl}^ the vast 
 mausoleum of a dead industry. 
 
 The directors, seated in the office of the 
 mill on the day after the strike, did not 
 wear very pleasant faces as they discussed 
 a situation that needed little explanation. 
 
 Upon the entrance of the superintendent, 
 a few minutes after the opening of the meet- 
 ing, he, at the suggestion of the president, 
 addressed the board. 
 
 " I do not care, gentlemen," he said, in 
 his usual deliberate tones, " to speak at any 
 length to you on the causes that have led to 
 this strike. My views w^ere very fully ex- 
 pressed with regard to these wages, when 
 you asked for them at your last meeting, 
 and they are unchanged. You know that I 
 think that some advances should be made. 
 
Attempts at Adjustment. 53 
 
 Perhaps some of you will have now come 
 around to my way of thinking. The adjust- 
 ment of wages, usually left with me, has 
 been, as you are aware, in this case, taken 
 out of my hands by the treasurer, as involv- 
 ing a very large expenditure, and his opin- 
 ions have hitherto been sustained by your 
 board. I now ask to have this matter left 
 with me to adjust, if possible; but under 
 your instructions. As to whether I am to deal 
 with the organization that has ordered these 
 people out, it is for you to say, if you con- 
 clude that something may be done in the 
 way of increasing the wages complained of. 
 I am decidedly of opinion that you should 
 give me the right, at least to talk with their 
 officials and hear what they have to say. I 
 can then report to you, and it will be for 
 you to determine finally whether to ratify 
 any arrangement I can come at with them. 
 In our present position, and dealing with a 
 
54 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 difficulty that might threaten the very life of 
 the corporation, the final responsibility should 
 lie with the whole board. No one official 
 would be willing to assume it." 
 
 The superintendent stopped and reached 
 his hand to the back of a chair, as if about 
 to sit down. He hesitated, rubbed his chin 
 thoughtfully, and added; "My earnest ad- 
 vice, as an officer and stockholder here, is, 
 that, as we are in the wrong to a greater or 
 less extent, we should not be too nice as to 
 the method of adjusting this wage difference, 
 so that it be done equitably and quickly." 
 
 He looked the directors squarely in the 
 face, and sat down as he concluded. 
 
 A little pause followed. The directors 
 looked at each other, and each waited for 
 another to say something. 
 
 Presently a youngish, rather good-looking 
 man, with a bronzed face and direct, off- 
 hand manner, said that he wasn't ashamed 
 
Attempts at Adjtist7nent. 55 
 
 to admit that he quite agreed with Mr. Mal- 
 colm, that something ought to have been 
 done long ago about the wages in question: 
 and he now moved the board that the super- 
 intendent be fully authorized to settle this 
 matter — with the operatives or anybody, he 
 didn't much care who — in the best manner 
 that suggested itself to him. He might 
 report to the board if he pleased, but he 
 thought the board had better back a man 
 who seemed to have known more than any 
 one of them. " For my part," he added, " I 
 don't care a straw about the means in this 
 matter, so that they are fair and above 
 board. Let us have justice done to the 
 hands and the mill started up, for their and 
 our own sakes, as soon as possible." 
 
 Mr. Hartwell, the treasurer, who was, of 
 course, a member of the board, now thought 
 it time for him to interpose, and, rising, re- 
 gretted to disagree with his young /riend, 
 
56 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 Mr. Alston; "as to the superintendent," he 
 said, with a gentle smile toward that gentle- 
 man, " he and I are too much accustomed to 
 that sort of thing to mind it much." 
 
 Mr. Hartwell then went on to express 
 himself as totally opposed to any dealings 
 with this offensive organization, that was 
 spreading over the land and dictating to 
 capital and labor alike. 
 
 He attributed to its pernicious influence 
 all the trouble that they and others were 
 having with their labor; and he considered 
 that the future existence of the industrial 
 enterprises of the countr}^, in which so 
 much capital was invested, depended on the 
 crushing out of the " Associates of Toil," 
 — upon strictly refusing to recognize them 
 in the slightest particular. In the matter of 
 wages, he must say that he failed to see that 
 they (the corporation) were specially to 
 blame. In fact, he thought it clearly their 
 
Attempts at Adjiistment. 57 
 
 duty to get their labor as cheaply as was 
 possible. That was business, and this was 
 no place for sentimental considerations. He 
 was not sure that the wiser course was not 
 to close the mill awhile until the people 
 were ready to come back at the old rates, 
 or get others who would be glad to receive 
 them. But, at all events, and whether they 
 were right or wrong about the wages, he 
 hoped no negotiations would be permitted 
 with officials of the "Associates of Toil"; 
 in conclusion, he trusted that the well-meant 
 but rather ill-considered views previously 
 expressed would not prevail with the board. 
 A portly personage, dressed in irreproach- 
 able broadcloth, but with rather dirty finger- 
 nails, remarked, in a loud and disagreeable 
 voice, without rising from his chair, that he 
 should think an intelligent board of direc- 
 tors, who had, some of them, been manu- 
 facturing goods all their lives, were compe- 
 
58 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 tent to run the B Mills without any help 
 
 from such a concern as the " Associates of 
 Toil." That he was in favor of making no 
 talk or concessions to any one. He thought 
 they could stand it as long as the hands 
 could. If they wanted to stay out, send to 
 Canada or somewhere, fill up the mill with 
 new help, and go ahead. 
 
 " I suppose," said Alston, quickly, " we 
 ought to have some regard for the abstract 
 rights of others, Mr. Williams. I do not 
 care to go into a fight with these poor peo- 
 ple, when I feel that we are wrong at the 
 start. I've looked into this matter a little, 
 and have no doubt of the substantial justice 
 of most of their claims. Therefore I cannot 
 agree with you, sir." 
 
 " If you had reached my time of life, sir," 
 retorted Mr. Williams, huffily, " and had 
 worked for your money, instead of inherit- 
 ing it, you'd know rather more than you do 
 now, perhaps." 
 
Attempts at Adjustinefit, 59 
 
 A pale gentleman, seated at the lower 
 end of the table, here put up a single eye- 
 glass with his partly gloved hand. 
 
 "Oh, — I say, now, Mr. President," he 
 said, with a strong rising inflection; "this 
 sort of thing won't do, don't you know. I 
 really must rise to a point of order, sir." 
 
 The gentleman did not actually arise, 
 notwithstanding his expressed intention, but 
 the president observed him, and said, 
 " Well, well, gentlemen, we don't seem to 
 be getting on. Shall I put this motion 
 of Mr. Alston's, or what would any one 
 advise ? " 
 
 " I don't wish," he added, mildly, " to 
 have too much to say myself But I have 
 been thinking a little, lately, that perhaps 
 these people we employ have rather a 
 hard time of it, and it is not precisely the 
 thing, you 7nay agree, to pay them less 
 than they earn. Pray receive this as a 
 
6o The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 mere suggestion, for I should not presume 
 to dictate. As to the ' Associates of Toil,' 
 I don't know really what to say — upon my 
 word, I don't. Had we not better have a 
 little farther expression of opinion? Now, 
 for instance, what do you think about deal- 
 ing with them, Mr. Watson?" he concluded, 
 turning with a bow to the gentleman at his 
 elbow; and, having passed the matter along, 
 as it were, he sat down with an air of re- 
 lief, and, stretching out his legs, thrust both 
 hands in his pockets. 
 
 The discussion now assumed a more col- 
 loquial form, and continued for some time, 
 the stronger feeling seeming to be against 
 dealing with the "Associates of Toil." 
 But, upon the farther representation of the 
 superintendent that their chief official 
 seemed a very fair man, it was decided 
 that he might consult provisionally with 
 him, and report to the board a few days 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 6i 
 
 later, when it could finally determine as to 
 the manner of settlement and the schedule 
 of wages that should be paid. The direc- 
 tors, in view of the disagreement between 
 its officials on the questions at issue, seemed 
 inclined to keep the matter in their own 
 hands, as suggested by the superintendent. 
 After the adjournment, it might have been 
 observed that Mr. Alston and the president 
 went away together. 
 
 Separated during their short railway ride 
 to the city by the crowded state of the 
 train, they rejoined each other at their 
 destination. 
 
 " Let me set you down at your house, 
 Mr. Alston," said the president. " My car- 
 riage is here, I believe." 
 
 As they rolled smoothly through the 
 streets, they passed several half-finished 
 buildings. While the hour was late for 
 workmen to be seen about them, yet it was 
 
62 TJie Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 plain that none would have been there had 
 it been earlier in the day. For that peculiar 
 appearance of neglect that things intended 
 for immediate use assume when left for a 
 considerable time exposed to the elements, 
 pervaded the masses of material — the lum- 
 ber, mortar, and stone — piled in and about 
 them. Evidently there had been no work 
 done upon them for some time. 
 
 The president pointed to one of these 
 premature ruins as they drove by. 
 
 " Strikes everywhere," he remarked, 
 briefly. 
 
 "Yes," said Alston; "the thing really 
 amounts to an epidemic." 
 
 " Um," murmured the president, reflec- 
 tively, as he drummed with his fingers upon 
 the sash of the carriage window. 
 
 "Some reasonable," he said again; 
 " others quite the reverse, I should say." 
 
 " Many of them — yes," answered Alston; 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 63 
 
 " and it is noticeable that where the strikers 
 are manifestly in the wrong, they seem far 
 more earnest and bitter than when they are 
 simply standing out to get what they ought 
 to have." 
 
 " Better come and dine with me," said 
 the president, rather irrelevantly; adding, 
 after a pause, " We might talk our matters 
 over a little, perhaps." 
 
 " Thanks, very much," said Alston, with 
 a surprised look ; for his acquaintance with 
 his companion had been slight, and effusive 
 hospitality, even within its own charmed 
 circle, was by no means a characteristic of 
 the society in which they moved; " but Mrs. 
 A. will hardly allow of it, I fear. However, 
 my dear sir," he added, " as you are not 
 hampered in that way, pray stop and take 
 ^pot-luck' with me, instead. I certainly 
 should be glad to discuss our affairs with 
 you. 
 
64 The SU'ike in the B MilL 
 
 "Come, Mr. Phillips, here we are," he 
 added, as the carriage stopped in front of 
 his own door. 
 
 That gentleman, after some demur, and 
 objecting that he was not dressed for din- 
 ner, yielded, and, dismissing his carriage, 
 accompanied Alston into the house. 
 
 A charming little girl ran to meet her 
 father in the hall, and, swung up on his arm, 
 looked inquiringly at the stranger over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Really, a very pretty child — very 
 pretty," said Mr. Phillips, with the embar- 
 rassment of an old bachelor in the presence 
 of that singular creature, a child; "yours, I 
 presume," he added. 
 
 " Well, rather^'^ said Alston, w^Ith a 
 laugh, pinching the child's cheek: "aren't 
 you, ducky? But, pray walk in and sit 
 down, and I will join you in a moment," he 
 went on, opening the parlor door. 
 
Attempts at Adjustment. 65 
 
 Alston ran up the staircase two steps at 
 a time, with the child in his arms, and, burst- 
 ing into his wife's boudoir, kissed that 
 pretty little lady impetuously. 
 
 " Ada, my darling," he said, tossing the 
 child in his strong hands, " you should really 
 be uncommonly particular with the menu 
 this evening, for that eminent club man and 
 gourmand, Mr. Phillips, honors us — even 
 now he awaits our coming, below ! " 
 
 " Do take care of that child, Ned," ex- 
 claimed his wife; "there, put her down, 
 do. And how can I be particular, with this 
 late warning? " 
 
 " Ah — the hour is, indeed, too late," 
 said Alston, with mock solemnity. " He 
 must e'en take us as we are." 
 
 " Is this Mr. Phillips your mill president?" 
 she asked, adding: " Come, give the baby 
 to Ellen, and let me talk to you, for you 
 have been away all day." 
 
66 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 With a final toss, Alston brought the 
 little girl's flushed, laughing face down to 
 his own, and, with a hearty kiss, handed her 
 to the nurse, who had followed them up 
 stairs. 
 
 " Scant time for sweet converse now, 
 your ladyship," he said, to his wife, as he 
 started for his dressing-room; "the presi- 
 dent is, without doubt, in high dudgeon 
 alread}^, at being left to his own entertain- 
 ment so long." He returned in a few 
 minutes and seized bodily upon his wife: 
 " Have dinner served forthwith," he said, 
 in mock heroic tones, " and let us down- 
 wards, in God's name — as the pious Oriental 
 puts it." 
 
 " You and Malcolm seem to rather pull 
 together in this business," remarked Mr. 
 Phillips, as he and Alston sat alone, smok- 
 ing, in the dining-room, after dinner. 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 67 
 
 "Well," said Alston, "he is too near 
 right, I believe, and he ought to be sup- 
 ported. It is about time, Mr. Phillips, that 
 some of us took a little thought of the peo- 
 ple whom we employ, as well as of the 
 iroods we make and sell. As a man of 
 leisure, I certainly can find no excuse for 
 neglect of any such duty — at my age, at 
 least," he added, not wishing to imply any 
 rebuke to his companion. " I now propose," 
 he went on, "to interest myself in this labor 
 question, as I have been brought face to face 
 with it. It is a shame that these operatives 
 have suffered injustice at our hands so long." 
 
 " For my part," returned the elder gentle- 
 man, after a pause, " I am extremely annoyed 
 that I am brought face to face with the ques- 
 tion at all. I want to live in peace. That's 
 why I sold my ships and gave up business; 
 and in allowing myself to be president of 
 this concern I did not anticipate any bothera- 
 
68 The Strike i7i the B Mill. 
 
 tion — simply supposed I was standing for 
 the stock of our family. However," — Mr. 
 Phillips paused and took a puff or two at 
 his cigar, — "as things are, — "he pulled 
 again at his cigar — "I feel inclined to your 
 view; and, without desiring to be put about 
 much with it, you may as well count on my 
 being with you in the event of controversy." 
 
 Mr. Phillips was by no means a garru- 
 lous man, and, considered by his friends to 
 be a most excellent listener, he largely con- 
 tented himself with that role. He now 
 looked as if a little bored by his own long 
 speech, and, returning his cigar to his lips, 
 smoked vigorously. 
 
 " I am very glad to hear you say this," 
 said Alston. 
 
 " I am not sure," he went on, after they 
 had sat in silence for a few minutes, " but 
 what our whole manufacturing system here 
 is going by the board. We are not making 
 
Attempts at Adjustment. 69 
 
 much, and the operatives don't seem to be 
 doing very v^^ell, either, even where they 
 are receiving fair wages. It seems as if 
 there were something wrong somewhere. 
 I really must think it over. I never have 
 before." 
 
 Mr. Phillips knocked the ashes from his 
 cigar, turned the burning end toward his 
 face, and contemplated it with profound 
 interest. 
 
 "I think we'll hold on to the B stock 
 
 yet awhile," he said, slowly; "wouldn't be 
 fair to get out. Must stand b}^ the ship, I 
 should say — see the thing through." 
 
 "Oh, by all means," said Alston; "and I 
 dare say our particular trouble will be soon 
 over, now that you are disposed, with me, 
 not to stand on punctilio with the strikers. 
 It is the general condition of the manufac- 
 turing interest and the future of the labor- 
 ino:-man that I'm thinkino^ of" 
 
70 The Strike in the B J//7/. 
 
 " Ah, yes, — certainly," said iNIr. Phil- 
 lips. "Interesting matter to look into — 
 very." 
 
 He laid his cigar end in the ash-tray. 
 "Would you mind," he said, "my sa3'ing 
 good-night, to INIrs. Alston, as I am due for 
 a game of whist at the club, and fear I 
 shall be late?" 
 
 As Mr. Phillips exchanged a few words 
 with his hostess in the drawing-room, he, 
 while expressing his delight at making her 
 acquaintance, added confidentially, "I have 
 taken rather a fancy for your husband, my 
 dear madam. Seems a pretty good sort of 
 fellow, on the whole." 
 
 Mrs. Alston laughed. " I am sure," she 
 said, " that if we agree as well on all ques- 
 tions as we do on this, I shall always be 
 delighted to meet you, Mr. Phillips." 
 
 "Do you hunt Thursday, Ned?" she 
 said to her husband, as they walked slowly 
 
Attempts at Adjustment. 71 
 
 together up and down the room, after their 
 visitor had gone. 
 
 "No, dear. I must be again at F , 
 
 when I hope we shall be able to finish up 
 the strike." 
 
 "You seem," she said, "very much inter- 
 ested in this strike. I never knew you to 
 care anything about the affairs of that cor- 
 poration before. Was it about them that 
 you and Mr. Phillips have been talking so 
 long in the dining-room?" 
 
 "Yes," he said. "The truth is, Ada, I 
 intend to interest myself far more in these 
 matters in the future." 
 
 "Where is the need?" she asked. 
 " Things have gone along very well with- 
 out you hitherto, haven't they?" 
 
 "Well, I should say 7iot, in some re- 
 spects. I have been abroad almost continu- 
 ously since elected a director. Some things 
 might have been different, perhaps, if I had 
 
72 The Strike in the B Mill 
 
 been here and understood and attended to 
 my business." 
 
 "I thought," said Mrs. Alston, innocently, 
 ^' that directors of corporations never did 
 either." 
 
 Alston smiled dubiously. " I fear," he 
 said, " that you are not altogether wrong 
 there. But they ought to — in justice to the 
 stockholders and to those with whom the 
 corporation deals. /';;/ going to turn over 
 a new leaf." 
 
 " Ah," said his wife, laughing, " when you 
 say that, it means something. I can recall 
 several leaves that you have turned during 
 our acquaintance, and they have never been 
 folded back," she added, looking fondly up 
 at him. "Well, as Mr. Phillips says, you 
 ' seem a pretty good sort of fellow,' Ned. 
 I am quite sure that I shall feel much 
 easier to have you attending directors' 
 meetings than riding that great vicious 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 73 
 
 creature of yours over stone walls. Why 
 won't you sell him, Ned, dear, and get 
 something more reasonable to ride?" 
 
 "Oh — he's quiet as a lamb," said Alston, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I should think he was — 'just about' — 
 as John Leach's picture has it. He skipped 
 from the ground with all four feet, the other 
 day, precisely as I've seen lambs do. Well, 
 Ned," she continued, drawing down her 
 face, and speaking with great gravity, " if 
 you have no regard for your life, you might 
 consider your wife and child." 
 
 "That's the final, the unanswerable argu- 
 ment," he said, still laughing. "But please, 
 little woman, don't be quite so absurd." 
 He had his arm about her, and drew her to 
 his side. — "You know," he went on, " that 
 Pat and I had it all out in Ireland, and his 
 conduct has been really quite exemplary 
 since he found that I was a little too much 
 
74 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 for him. He is so good a fencer that I hate 
 to lose him." Alston looked at his watch. 
 *' I agreed," he said, " to see M a mo- 
 ment this evening, and, though it is late, I 
 ou£:ht to so around there. I shall be back 
 directly." 
 
 The streets of F seemed full of peo- 
 ple on the second evening after the events 
 already described. 
 
 Many men were, as usual, standing about 
 the corners, but more were moving in a par- 
 ticular direction. It was evident that some 
 event of importance had called them out in 
 unusual numbers for a common purpose. 
 Here and there was a little knot of young 
 women and girls, who seemed to keep apart 
 from the men for the most part, though 
 they exchanged salutations with those of 
 their acquaintance who passed. They in- 
 dulged in loud talk and laughter, and 
 
Attempts at Adjiistinent. 75 
 
 seemed to be enjo3'ing their respite from 
 work and the general novelty of the situa- 
 tion. Many of the men and a few of the 
 older women turned into a doorway, within 
 which the lighted staircase led to a hall in 
 the second story of a large building, where 
 a meeting of the " Associates of Toil " was 
 assembling. 
 
 Upon a little platform at the end of the 
 long room two men were writing at a table, 
 and several others stood by them talking 
 earnestly together. The hall gradually filled 
 with men. Many of them were neatly 
 dressed, others were in their workino- cloth- 
 ing; while yet others stood about in their 
 shirt-sleeves, for the weather was not cold, 
 and the lights and the presence of so many in 
 the hall made the heat oppressive. Clouds 
 of smoke from the pipes and cigars, in many 
 mouths, floated through the open windows 
 and settled about the low ceiling. 
 
76 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 A few women were to be seen in the 
 crowd; mostly middle-aged, with anxious 
 faces looking eagerly toward the platform, 
 as if from there they hoped to receive a 
 solution of the vexed question of the hour, 
 which it was evident that they, at least, did 
 not regard with indifference. 
 
 The several days of the strike had, to a 
 certain extent, also affected the spirits of 
 the men present. For while here and there 
 might be heard a joke or laugh, most of 
 them were quiet and seemed inclined to take 
 the meeting seriously, though there was no 
 despondency visible among them, as yet. 
 The loose settees sometimes used in the hall 
 had been removed, and all were standing. 
 
 Presently a man left the group on the 
 platform, and, raising his hand for attention, 
 addressed the people. He was slenderly 
 made, with a fine intellectual face, and his 
 voice was clear and pleasant. His Ian- 
 
Attefupts at Adjtistmefit, 77 
 
 o-Liao-e bore no traces of want of culture, 
 and his whole presence inspired respect 
 and confidence. It was William Darragh, 
 a member of the general executive board 
 of the " Associates of Toil." He spoke 
 briefly, and forcibly: — 
 
 " My friends," he said, " the organization 
 of which I am proud to be an oflScial has 
 been the means of enabling you to make 
 this movement in the assertion of your 
 rights, in a manly and united manner. The 
 great corporation in whose employ you 
 have been, has seen fit to pay you for your 
 toil less than it is worth and commands 
 elsewhere. Your respectful remonstrances 
 and demands, individually and as an organ- 
 ization, have been disregarded, and at 
 length your executive committee has, in the 
 exercise of its authority, ordered that you 
 cease to work on these unequal terms. In 
 an orderly manner you have done so, as our 
 
78 The Strike 2?i the B Mill 
 
 order prescribes. You seek not to injure 
 any man, or to interfere with any vested 
 rights in this assertion of your own. But 
 you emphasize the simple proposition that 
 for value we are entitled to equal value, and 
 that no man or company can exact service 
 from another without his consent and a fair 
 compensation. There must be fair-minded 
 men on the other side, and I believe that 
 what you have done will effect the desired 
 results. Meanwhile, do not forget that the 
 ends of the ' Associates of Toil ' are only 
 to be obtained by peaceful and legal meth- 
 ods. Let no act of violence or even men- 
 ace, injure the fair fame of the order and 
 the cause of the laboring-man here and 
 elsewhere. Law must reign supreme in 
 this land, or our boasted freedom is but a 
 synonym for license and anarchy, with 
 which the 'Associates of Toil ' have noth- 
 ing to do. We work within the law, not 
 otherwise." 
 
Attefupts at Adjustment, 79 
 
 The speaker pronounced these words 
 with emphasis, and the audience responded 
 with some applause. After a pause he 
 went on. 
 
 " There has been a little delay, but I am 
 glad to say that the superintendent is now 
 willing to talk with me, and I have been, 
 therefore, deputed to see him; I go from 
 this meeting for that purpose. He is in 
 possession of your schedule of wages; I 
 understand him to be a just man, — " 
 
 "A hard man, you mane!" shouted a 
 stout fellow, who was leaning against the 
 side of the entrance door of the hall, smok- 
 ing a short black pipe. The interruption 
 was well received by others, who added, 
 " That's so," — "A damned hard man he 
 is," — and other corroborative exclamations. 
 Darragh quietly waited, and, when the 
 voices ceased, he continued in his former 
 stead}^ tone, and apparently waiving the 
 
8o The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 question of the superintendent's character. 
 " At any rate," he said, " I shall see him, 
 and to-morrow evening, at seven o'clock, 
 meet me here, and I will tell you what can 
 be done, if anything. 
 
 " My brothers of the local committee," 
 he added, " inform me that there is no busi- 
 ness for us now to transact, and I suggest 
 that we adjourn until the time I have 
 named." 
 
 He bowed and drew back, when a man 
 in the middle of the hall called out, " Are 
 any arrangements made to help us to live 
 while we're out on strike?" 
 
 " It is hoped," said Darragh, returning to 
 the front of the platform, " that the strike 
 will be ended so soon that no aid will be 
 required. But if we are disappointed, a 
 finance committee will be appointed by 
 you, and I hope enough will be forthcom- 
 ing." He paused a moment, then added, 
 
Attefiipts at Adjustment, 8i 
 
 " The large number of these movements 
 that are simultaneously taking place in the 
 country are taxing our resources heavil}^, 
 and I trust that prudent counsels will 
 prevail in this case, so that the necessity 
 will not arise for further drafts upon our 
 burdened people elsewhere." He again 
 bowed, and the people who had waited for 
 his answer slowly filed out of the hall, dis- 
 cussing the prospect among themselves. 
 
 A number of the men collected on the 
 sidewalk at the foot of the stairs, about one 
 who was loudly expressing his views. He 
 was one of those who had been upon the 
 platform in the hall. 
 
 " I gave in to Darragh to-night," he said, 
 as if in explanation, " but me and him don't 
 agree about some things. He'll do no good 
 with the superintendent, I don't believe. 
 And he won't listen to anythin' bein' said 
 about the scabs, neither. There's more'n 
 
82 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 two hundred men that don't belong to us, 
 and ain't in this strike. They're only out 
 of the mill because there's nothin' for 'em 
 to do. They're ready to go to work any 
 minute, for all us." The man stopped and 
 looked at the men about him: — " I'll tell 
 you what it is, boys," he went on, in a still 
 louder voice, " these fellows won't join the 
 ^ Associates of Toil,' and Tm damned if I 
 work in that mill along side of 'em again." 
 
 " Nor I," said another. " Those men had 
 ought to join us, or clear out entirely." 
 
 " Well," said an elderly man, with a 
 shrewd, puckered little face, " hadn't we 
 better wait and see what Darragh can do 
 about the wages first? I struck to get better 
 pay, I did, and — " 
 
 "If dey vill not vat you vants give — tak 
 it then," struck in a guttural voice at the 
 elbow of the last speaker. It was that of a 
 man apparently a stranger to those present, 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 83 
 
 for they looked at him with some surprise 
 when he spoke. He was a fat man, of a 
 rather dirty and unwholesome appearance. 
 His stubb}^, black beard embellished a 
 rubicund visage, whose small, black eyes 
 twinkled above the fat cheeks with sinister 
 lustre. He spoke with a strong foreign 
 accent, and with a breath redolent of beer. 
 
 " Ach," he continued, as he observed that 
 he commanded the attention of the party; 
 ^' vy idly do my broders stand ? Der power 
 in your hands ish — make then to dremple 
 your obbressors ! " 
 
 The men reojarded him with increasinof 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Who are you ? " asked one, after a 
 pause; " I never saw you before." 
 
 The stranger took a large German pipe 
 from his mouth, and struck an attitude in- 
 tended to be imposing. 
 
 " I am of der towndrotten a savior — 
 
84 The Strike i7i the B Mill, 
 
 an encourager," he said. " I gome alvays to 
 help unci deliver. Look you — I recognize 
 no laws; mait all of dem to der poor subju- 
 gate. I deach you der lesson to annihilate 
 dem laws, and of the blenty of der rich take 
 for yourselves. Enough dere ish — ain't 
 ut? Ach — yes, yes," he concluded, with 
 an unctuous leer, resuming his pipe. 
 
 " But," said the old man, w^hom he had 
 interrupted, " you can't take people's prop- 
 erty without a fight." 
 
 " Ya w^ohl " — said the stranger — " den 
 we fights. I myself will lead you. Broders! 
 der worlt moves. I am of dose who move 
 ut." 
 
 No response was made to his offer. The 
 men looked doubtfully at this Moses, so 
 ready to lead them out of the wilderness, 
 and, apparently having but little faith in his 
 doctrines, and being rather unfavorably im- 
 pressed with the prophet himself, began to 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 85 
 
 slowly move off, and the anarchist was 
 presently left alone. 
 
 " Wait," he muttered in German, " I make 
 them to me listen by and by"; and with a 
 somewhat depressed air he sought the near- 
 est saloon. 
 
 Immediately after receiving authority 
 from the directors, the superintendent had 
 sent word to Darragh that he should be glad 
 to talk over the schedule of wagfes with him 
 if he would drop around to the mill office. 
 He had heard considerable concerning this 
 man, and believed him to be a more suita- 
 ble negotiator than either of the members 
 of the Local Board of the '^ Associates of 
 Toil," whom he considered much inferior to 
 many of the men they assumed to lead. 
 
 His message, however, had aroused their 
 jealousy, and Darragh was with difficulty 
 able to persuade them to allow of his re- 
 
86 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 spending to it. Darragh's only desire was 
 to obtain a speedy and satisfactory conclu- 
 sion of a strike that he himself had advised. 
 He had no sympathy with certain radical 
 views held by these others, and hoped that, 
 if the corporation were willing to substan- 
 tially grant the advances demanded, he 
 could persuade the main body to vote a 
 return to work without allowing these ideas 
 to influence them. 
 
 He had carried his point, and went 
 directly to the office of the mill, where he 
 had agreed to meet Mr. Malcolm, from the 
 meeting that he had addressed. He had 
 been pleased that no difficulties had been 
 suggested there, and felt now that it only 
 remained for him to arrange matters with 
 the superintendent, which he felt would not 
 be difficult, to accomplish aH the legitimate 
 objects of the strike and end it at once. 
 
 " Mr. Darragh," said the superintendent, 
 
Attempts at Adjustment. 87 
 
 as he entered the office, " I am glad to 
 see you — and you alone. From what I 
 know of you, I believe we can settle this 
 matter, and have the men back at once. 
 Provided," he added, "that I can induce 
 the directors, who have taken this matter 
 in hand themselves, to waive their prin- 
 ciples, as some seem to regard the matter, 
 and allow a settlement with your organiza- 
 tion." 
 
 "* I hope they will do so, Tm sure," said 
 Darragh, cordially. " They tell me — those 
 men who seem to know — that if your 
 advice had been followed in the past, there 
 would have been no occasion for a strike 
 
 here." 
 
 " How do you like our scale of wages?" 
 
 he added, after a pause. 
 
 a^Yell — but sit down, sit down," said 
 Mr. Malcolm. "The schedule?" he con- 
 tinued ; " I do not regard it as unreasonable. 
 
88 The Strike in the B AliU. 
 
 If you'll shade down the back-boys and 
 helpers — make that half a dollar a week 
 less, I should say — and if 3^ou do not 
 insist upon your peculiar method of equal- 
 izing those machine-shop wages, I have 
 little objection — by the way," he said, in- 
 terrupting himself, " in that machine-shop 
 matter, I might as well say that I am en- 
 tirely opposed to anything that tends, even 
 in a slight degree, as here, to put a poor 
 workman on a par with a better man. 
 Your schedule there makes very few dollars 
 a week difference to us, but I hate the 
 principle of it. A good workman ought to 
 have exactly the difference in pay over the 
 unskilful and lazy one as the ratio of his 
 work is to that of the other, in quantity and 
 excellence. Their being at work the same 
 number of hours does not go for much in a 
 machine-shop. There is no piece work 
 there, you know." 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 89 
 
 Darragh looked thoughtfully at the list 
 that he was holding in his hand. 
 
 " This," he said, finally, " is one of the 
 ways in which our order sometimes works 
 injustice. I am only reconciled to it on the 
 principle of the greatest good to the great- 
 est number. You had better let it go, or, I 
 fear, we shall have a strong kick against 
 our settlement. However you, or I, for that 
 matter, may feel about the thing, 3'et, if 
 you'll excuse me, it is, after all, their own 
 affair. If they are satisfied, we ought to 
 be. The gross increase is slight, as you 
 say. Do not, then, let us split on this, as, I 
 confess, I dare not yield the point." He hes- 
 itated a moment. "I will," he said, " agree 
 on what you suggest about the boys, and 
 recommend that our people go to work on 
 this basis. I do not understand that we dis- 
 agree about the piece work prices for the 
 weavers and spinners. Come, what do you 
 say, Mr. Malcolm?" 
 
90 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 The superintendent twisted his chair 
 around, and thought a moment or two. 
 
 " Weiy he said, slowly, '' if the men are 
 fools enough to stand it, I don't know that I 
 ought to fight for them against their own 
 order — but there is one thing more. Is 
 there to be any trouble about the ^ scabs,' as 
 your brethren pleasantly style them? They 
 comprise nearly three hundred men and 
 women, and we do not propose to discharge 
 one of them." 
 
 Darragh threw his head back, running his 
 fingers through his thick, black hair, and 
 presently answered with some deliberation. 
 
 " With regard," he said, " to the proper 
 attitude of our order on this question, I am 
 very clear. Our best men also," he added, 
 modestly, " have given the subject a great 
 deal of thought, and are satisfied that noth- 
 ing can ultimately work us more injury than 
 to assume a hostile position toward those 
 
Attefupts at Adjustment. 91 
 
 who do not choose to join our ranks. For 
 a time some may be intimidated and driven 
 in, as it were; but such recruits are of little 
 value. Too many are already in the organ- 
 ization who sadly fail in understanding its 
 high purposes, and seek to pervert it to self- 
 ish and unlawful ends, without adding to 
 it, members who shall sow discord to be 
 reaped hereafter — " 
 
 Mr. Malcolm, who was by no means 
 enamoured of labor associations in general, 
 or the "Associates of Toil" in particular, 
 had been listening attentively to Darragh, 
 and here interrupted him, speaking in his 
 usual slow manner. 
 
 "Your order has in itself now," he said, 
 "the seeds of dissolution. It cannot last. 
 None of you with any self-respect can long 
 endure its tyrannical interference in your 
 private affairs. The thing is an anomaly in 
 a free country — an imperium in imperio — 
 
92 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 that can have but a brief existence here. 
 It is bound to fall to pieces of its own un- 
 wieldiness, or be shivered to atoms by a 
 storm of public disapproval, both w^ithin 
 and without its ranks, when its full signifi- 
 cance and baleful workings shall more fully 
 develop themselves. Excuse my warmth, but 
 I think 3'our order is doing great mischief." 
 Mr. Darragh heard him with admirable 
 temper, and answered quietly, "Certainly: 
 there is some ground for your strictures 
 upon us, I regret to say. All associations, 
 of this or any other character, must share 
 in the imperfections of the men who com- 
 pose them. No movement for the amelio- 
 ration of the condition of a larg^e class of 
 the people can be conducted without more 
 or less incidental friction, and the infliction 
 of temporary hardship upon many, perhaps. 
 But, Mr. Malcolm, unless you fully grasp 
 the ultimate objects of this association. 
 
Attempts at Adjustment. 93 
 
 which are to elevate the laboring man, and 
 broaden and ennoble his life, these inciden- 
 tal objections are seen by you out of all 
 proportion, for you do not understand us 
 at all." 
 
 "How?" exclaimed the superintendent. 
 " Do you mean to say that these boycotts 
 and the violence, injustice, and cruelties that 
 your people are constantly practising are to 
 be looked upon as mere incidentals' of 
 some far-seeing policy of self-elevation and 
 improvement? They are your methods, sir, 
 not incidentals; and no such methods can 
 lead to those high results." 
 
 "Violence," returned Darragh, warmly, 
 " or lawlessness of any kind, the order 
 strictly forbids and seeks to restrain" — 
 
 " I don't know about the forbidding," 
 interrupted Malcolm, " but I do know about 
 the not restraining:," 
 
 " We do our best, sir," said Darragh. 
 
94 The Strike in the B ATilL 
 
 "Well," said Malcolm, "your 'best' has 
 been very bad indeed, so far. You seem to 
 have discipline enough to successfully order 
 free citizens to stop work, but you are not 
 able to make them behave themselves like 
 men — or you don't wish to — one of the 
 two." 
 
 " I think you do us injustice, sir," said 
 Darragh. " Our principles are opposed to 
 all illegal methods. Boycotts are only per- 
 mitted in extreme cases. Strikes we order, 
 it is true, but always prefer to settle matters 
 without them. Do you not see, Mr. Mal- 
 colm, that to lift the laboring man, to im- 
 prove him intellectually and morally, we 
 must improve his material environment; 
 help him to the getting of larger wages, 
 and more leisure for self-improvement. 
 But it is difficult, I presume, for a capitalist 
 to feel as I do about this." 
 
 " Mr. Darragh," replied the superintend- 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 95 
 
 ent, " I am now, to a certain extent, a cap- 
 italist. But I have been a day laborer, and 
 do not forget it. My sympathies are all 
 your way, whatever you may think about it. 
 But your claim is an impossible one. Many 
 desirable things are denied in this life to 
 most of us; and before you bind together a 
 number of hundred thousand men, with this 
 ultimate purpose, and through such asso- 
 ciation bring upon many of them hardship, 
 suffering, and disappointment, is it not your 
 duty to be tolerably sure that the economic 
 conditions of the country — of the civil- 
 ized world, indeed — will admit of these 
 radical changes? You cannot do these 
 things by edict, beneficial as they may 
 be. The laws of supply and demand are 
 inexorable, and the minute you begin to 
 force a change in them by law, or by a 
 movement like yours, that minute the quick 
 destruction of many industrial enterprises 
 
96 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 has begun. What the end shall be, if 
 you persist, you can foresee as well as I. 
 Where will be the advantage to a man of 
 large wages, when he can find no employ- 
 ment; and will your people desire an eight- 
 hour rule, when every hour of the day will 
 be at their disposal for want of occupation? 
 Look ahead, man, look ahead." 
 
 " The question is not altogether free from 
 difficulties, I am aware," said Darragh. 
 " But we must strive for the best. We 
 can but try, and if we fail it will not have 
 been our fault." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Darragh, if you, the men of 
 intelligence, go ahead blindly, and mislead 
 a host of people with sloppy rhetoric and 
 vain hopes, and leave them w^orse off than 
 they were before, it will be your fault. 
 You ought to be fairly sure of your ground. 
 You have no right to make experiments 
 that involve so much possible injury." 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 97 
 
 Darragh colored, and his eye flashed. 
 He arose from his chair and walked a mo- 
 ment up and down the room. Then, con- 
 trolling his feeling, he said, almost pleas- 
 antly: "By the present strike, at least, Mr. 
 Malcolm, we are likely to have the men 
 back at work in a few days, with a material 
 gain, if we agree, as I suppose we shall, 
 when our discussion is over." 
 
 "Yes," said the superintendent, "we shall 
 agree about the wages. But my directors 
 must endorse my action, and your people, I 
 take it, must back up your very sensible 
 notions about the non-union men. When 
 this has been done, you can indeed con- 
 gratulate yourself upon one of the very few 
 successful experiments of your order in 
 righting a wrong." 
 
 " You admit that here was a wrong for 
 us to right? " 
 
 "Yes, as prices go now; you are quite 
 
98 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 welcome to that admission. But we have 
 gone to our limit. If your folks strike 
 again, as they logically must, some time, in 
 order to make progress toward the goal you 
 point them to, they cannot be successful. 
 We can pay no more and live. Indeed, it 
 is a problem as to how long we can pay 
 this. Your strikes have forced a few men, 
 here and there, to pay more than they can 
 afford; but they cannot hold on very long. 
 Most of those strikes have failed, however. 
 And all fail when, as in the majority of 
 cases, they hold out on some absurd point 
 outside of the question of wages or hours." 
 
 '''Those strikes ought to fail," said Dar- 
 ragh. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm rose from his chair. " We 
 have had a long discussion, Mr. Darragh," 
 he said. " I respect the desire you have to 
 benefit the people, but regard your hopes 
 of what you can do in this manner as in 
 
Aitejupts at Adjusttnent. 99 
 
 the highest degree chimerical. Meanwhile, 
 I cannot help adding that, while your order 
 may gain an incidental advantage, now and 
 then, the mischief you are working and 
 will work to your own people, before this 
 organization goes to pieces, is incalculable. 
 In your experimental striving for the best, 
 as 370U call it, you are marking off into a 
 distinct and inferior class a large body of 
 the citizens of a free country, to which I 
 came, and in which I had a chance to 
 better myself, because there were no 
 classes. You are destroying their inde- 
 pendence and crushing out their individ- 
 uality. The ^Associate of Toil ' can only 
 stand on a dead level with his fellows, 
 though it may be he is their superior in 
 brains and pluck. From a free and un- 
 trammelled citizen you are transforming 
 him into a mere unit of labor. All this 
 in addition to the untold misery and trouble 
 
loo The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 that these movements entail to him and 
 those dependent upon him." 
 
 "You do not justly estimate us," said 
 Darragh. " We must be judged by results. 
 Have not the trades-unions benefited the 
 English workman?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Malcolm, "though the 
 extension of the suffrage there has done far 
 more. But it does not follow that 3^our 
 organization is to do good here. The con- 
 ditions are essentially different. Because 
 the Russian peasants need reforms, does 
 that justify the mountaineer of Switzerland 
 in raising the devil with his free institu- 
 tions? Associations like the Carbonari, or 
 the Vehmgericht of the middle ages, may 
 have served some good purpose, in their 
 villanous way; but w^hat do we want of 
 them here? You cannot generalize about 
 these things. What may be beneficial in 
 one period, or in one country, becomes an 
 
Attempts at Adjustment. loi 
 
 absurdity and a menace to society in an- 
 other. In the broad light of American 
 freedom your order cannot endure, but will 
 die like its wretched prototype, the Molly 
 McGuires of Pennsylvania." 
 
 " Well," said Darragh, " that very light 
 must act as a check, and will prevent what 
 you seem to fear. We can restrain inju- 
 dicious leaders, for the men have too much 
 sense to follow them; neither can they go 
 in for this nonsense about scabs and boy- 
 cotting. We mean to be no check upon 
 individual enterprise, and only wish to ele- 
 vate all together, without menace to liberty 
 or disobedience to the laws of the land. If 
 the order can be conducted as its best 
 friends w^ish, I believe — yes, I fervently 
 pray — that it will yet effect much good." 
 He paused a moment, and his face showed 
 some emotion. Presently he added : " I 
 shall report to our meeting to-morrow 
 
I02 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 night. I have confidence in our people, and 
 believe they will vote to accept our settle- 
 ment and go back to work, if your directors 
 allow of it." 
 
 " If I can induce them," said Malcolm, 
 " they will. Well, good-night to you," he 
 added, shaking Darragh heartily by the 
 hand as he started to go. " If such men as 
 you could run your order, I doubt if it 
 would do much harm. But you can't do 
 it, Mr. Darragh. There are too many fel- 
 lows who are getting a good living out of 
 this agitation to allow disinterested men the 
 control." 
 
 • " There, again, I think you are wrong, 
 sir," said Darragh, disregarding the per- 
 sonal compliment. " You will believe little 
 good of us, I see. Well, good-night. Our 
 trouble, at any rate, will soon be ended." 
 
 The directors met again in F on 
 
 the following day, and the superintendent 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 103 
 
 strongly urged that the provisional arrange- 
 ment made by him with Darragh be rati- 
 fied, and the strike ended. In the discus- 
 sion that followed, the president proved to 
 be his steady ally, and, to Alston's great 
 delight, displayed far more than his usual 
 energy in holding the opposition to the 
 question, and stripping it of rhetoric and 
 buncombe. 
 
 The treasurer, Mr. Hartwell, had hith- 
 erto rather run the directors' meetings, and 
 prided himself upon the aplomb with which 
 he could lay down his views. He was con- 
 siderably startled, therefore, on this occa- 
 sion, at being more than once interrupted 
 by Mr. Phillips in his remarks, and when 
 that gentleman finally struck in on one of 
 his best periods with the observation that 
 '' while this was all very interesting — very 
 — yet it wasn't business — no dividends in 
 it that he could see," Mr. Hartwell stam- 
 
I04 The Strike in the B AfilL 
 
 mered, lost his grip, and sat down in speech- 
 less extinguishment. 
 
 The influence, never before exerted, of a 
 man controlling as much stock as the presi- 
 dent, was, as it proved, salutary, and by a 
 close vote both the questions — of the man- 
 ner of adjustment and the schedule of wages 
 submitted — were settled, and the superin- 
 tendent was directed to start the mill at 
 once. 
 
 Some suoforestion bein^: made as to the 
 non-union workmen, the superintendent was 
 strictly enjoined from discharging or refus- 
 ing to accept the services of any such oper- 
 atives, and it was ordered that they should 
 be in all respects on the same footing as the 
 others. This just action, it is needless to 
 say, was unanimously agreed to. 
 
 The superintendent at once sent word 
 to Mr. Darragh of the favorable action of 
 the directors, and busied himself in prep- 
 
Attempts at Adjtistment, 105 
 
 aration for the resumption of work on the 
 following day. 
 
 At a late hour that evening Mr. Malcolm 
 was sitting at home. His mind was relieved 
 of a heavy load, as he now saw (as he be- 
 lieved) the end of this difficulty. As he 
 had said to Darragh, his sympathies were 
 strongly with the laboring man when he 
 saw him threatened with any real trouble; 
 and this feeling was none the less genuine 
 because unmixed with an}' maudlin senti- 
 mentality as to his general condition. He 
 had been for the greater part of his own 
 life a wage-earner, and had known the hap- 
 piness and content that are quite compatible 
 with that condition of life. 
 
 He knew, further, from his own experi- 
 ence and that of others, that wealth and 
 happiness were by no means synonymous 
 terms, and that all men were almost equally 
 burdened with unhappiness, in various forms. 
 
io6 The Strike in the B AlilL 
 
 Nevertheless, he could not fail to see that 
 the men had In this case stood out against 
 an injustice, and felt glad that it was at last 
 remedied, and that the miseries to them of 
 a prolonged strike, of which he had had 
 some experience himself in England and 
 here, were averted. 
 
 There were employed in the B Mill 
 
 a few French Canadians, and Mr. Malcolm, 
 who wished to be able to communicate 
 directly with all those in his employ, had 
 been for some time spending much of his 
 evenings in the study of the French lan- 
 ofuasre. Thouo^h an omnivorous reader and 
 a man of wide information, he found that 
 his fifty-odd years were not conducive to an 
 easy acquirement of a new language. But 
 he was a man of inflexible will, and, having 
 determined to learn it, he persevered. 
 
 On the evening in question he had found 
 himself unusually stupid, and was rather 
 
Attempts at Adjustment. 107 
 
 sleepily sharing the Gallic grammarian's 
 curiosity as to whether the urbane black- 
 smith had possessed himself of the silk 
 umbrella of the skilful tinman, and other 
 matters of like interest in well expressed 
 French, when he was aroused by the house- 
 bell and a message that somebody wished 
 to see him. Going into the next room, he 
 found Darragh and two other men, whom 
 he recognized as Murphy and Bradford, 
 members of the local committee of the 
 "Associates of Toil." 
 
 "I suppose everything is all right?" he 
 said, as he seated his visitors in his sitting- 
 room. " I sent around word to you," he 
 added, addressing Mr. Darragh, " that the 
 directors had agreed, and that the mill 
 would open to-morrow morning." 
 
 Darragh made no reply, and the superin- 
 tendent observed that his expression was 
 troubled and sorrowful. 
 
io8 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 The man Murphy spoke : " We're not 
 satisfied," he said, ''' with the way Mr. Dar- 
 rao:h has undertaken to arran^re matters. 
 We don't propose to go to work wid the 
 scabs again. If they take their old places, 
 we don't want ours. We'll eno^aiie to fill 
 their places wid good hands in a few days. 
 We're agreeable to the wages you've set- 
 tled, and will come into the mill to-morrow 
 without those others." 
 
 The superintendent's disappointment was 
 almost unbearable. He had remained stand- 
 ing, and now took a turn up and down the 
 room; then he stopped in front of Murphy 
 and regarded him intently. 
 
 "What," he said, quietly, and restraining 
 his strong feeling, " is to become of these 
 people whom you propose that we should 
 deprive of work in this way?" 
 
 " We don't care a damn what becomes 
 of them," returned Murphy, impudently. 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 109 
 
 " They'd be all right if they'd join us. If 
 they won't, it's their hunt, not ours, what 
 becomes of them." 
 
 " Why," said the superintendent, '' are 
 you opposed to their working? You have 
 your work, why shouldn't they have theirs. 
 They do you no harm." 
 
 " They do us harm," struck in Bradford; 
 " they do us harm because they won't come 
 with us. Why, they would have been at 
 work all along if you'd let them, in spite of 
 our strike. It's against the principles of the 
 order of the ' Associates of Toil ' to work 
 along with scabs " — 
 
 Darragh here interrupted the speaker 
 with some vehemence. "You are mis- 
 taken, as I have repeatedly said to you. 
 This matter involves no principle whatever. 
 You are all wrong about it. Mr. Malcolm," 
 he said, turning to the superintendent, " we 
 are just from the meeting at the hall that I 
 
no The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 had supposed would have ratified our agree- 
 ment. To my great surprise, and against 
 my earnest advice, the men, by a decided 
 vote, determined not to return to work un- 
 less 3'ou discharged those who are not mem- 
 bers of the order. I admit frankly that it is 
 a great mistake, but we can supply their 
 places, and, in consideration of the impor- 
 tant interests you represent, and of the great 
 number of poor men, women, and children 
 that need this work, I hope you can see 
 your way to open the mill to us on these 
 terms." 
 
 The superintendent did not answer at 
 once. 
 
 " At my urgent solicitation," he finall}^ 
 said, " the company allowed me to negoti- 
 ate with the 'Associates of Toil ' instead of 
 individuals. We have substantially agreed 
 to 3^our demands for increased wages. My 
 instructions, however, forbid any discrimi- 
 
Att erupts at Adjustment, 1 1 1 
 
 nation as to wages or employment between 
 you and these others." 
 
 " Is this not discretionary with you, then ?" 
 said Darragh. ' 
 
 " It is not," replied the superintendent; 
 " and, if it were, you know my views. And, 
 further," he added, in louder tones, " if I 
 had been ordered to discharge them — 
 these ^ scabs,' as you call them — I should 
 have resigned my position before I would 
 have done it — I would cut off this hand," 
 he said, stretching it toward them, " and 
 throw it in the fire, before I would do 
 that wicked thing! — Do you understand 
 me now? The mill will open to-morrow," 
 he continued, " and those men who desire 
 work can have it on the new scale of wages. 
 If your people don't want it, by Heaven! I 
 will fill up with hands from elsewhere. 
 Good-evening." 
 
 " Good-night to ye, sir," said Murphy, 
 
112 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 rising. " But I warn you to bring no more 
 scabs to this town — that's all, sir." 
 
 "Is this final, Mr. Malcolm.^" said 
 Darragh. 
 
 "Yes, sir — it is," returned the superin- 
 tendent; and, taking up his hat, Darragh 
 followed the others from the room. 
 
 Darragh was a thoroughly good man. 
 He was a mechanical engineer by trade, 
 of stronof inventive turn of mind. Under 
 many disadvantages he had been studious, 
 and was exceedingly well read and intelli- 
 gent. Believing ardently in the dignity of 
 labor, and keenly alive to the limitations 
 and hardships of many laboring men, he 
 had gone into this movement with the pur- 
 est and most disinterested motives, and had 
 been conspicuous in the early struggles of 
 the order for his faith in what he deemed 
 its great mission: he had devoted much 
 time and all his savings to its spread. As 
 
Attempts at Adjustment, 113 
 
 it became a power, he had more than once 
 had occasion to deplore the difference be- 
 tween its theoretical purposes and its prac- 
 tical working. He had begun to fear that 
 it might fail of its real objects, and become 
 only a vehicle for the uses of designing 
 men, and incidentally the cause of much 
 suffering and trouble that might be all in 
 vain. 
 
 Sincere with himself, though as yet un- 
 willing to admit it to others, he trembled 
 for the future of this noble fabric, as he had 
 thought it, that he had labored to rear, and 
 was saddened as he saw what he had 
 thought might have brought good to many, 
 turning into an instrument of evil. He had 
 
 hoped much from this strike in F and 
 
 its anticipated pleasant ending. And now, 
 in spite of his efforts, the thing was all 
 going wrong. He looked forward to the 
 hunger and suffering, the drunkenness 
 
114 ^'^^^ Strike in the B ATill. 
 
 and possible violence that now impended, 
 and, as he parted from the two men, to 
 whose influence he largely attributed his 
 failure, he cursed them in his heart. Walk- 
 ing home alone, under the October moon, 
 the question of his own responsibility for 
 these things arose strongly in his mind. 
 Not for the first time, he asked himself 
 whether he was blameless — whether, in 
 his blind pursuit of the ignis fatuus of an ill 
 defined and fanciful Utopia for the labor- 
 ing man, he was not really working him 
 great evil. The doubt was not a pleasant 
 one, but it would not down. Like many 
 another, he was tasting the bitterness of a 
 mental awakening, in which he saw the 
 misdirection and positive wrong of all his 
 well meant efforts and sacrifices. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONTINUANCE OF THE STRIKE. 
 
 T^HE superintendent, as good as his 
 •^ word, opened the sluice-gates and 
 rang the Bell of the mill on the following 
 morning, at the usual hour. The operatives 
 turned out in full force on the streets at the 
 familiar summons, and a few turned into the 
 mill yard and so into the mill, each going to 
 his or her accustomed place. But when 
 the quarter of an hour was up, and the belts 
 should have been attached to the shafts and 
 the machinery started, the great rooms still 
 were almost empty. Scattered about, here 
 and there, stood a few non-union work- 
 people, numbering, in all the departments, 
 perhaps three hundred, while below in the 
 "5 
 
ii6 The SU'ike in the B Mill, 
 
 street, outside of the gates and lining the 
 wall of the flume, stood fifteen hundred or 
 more, idly watching the mill or pointing 
 derisively to the occasional faces seen in the 
 windows. 
 
 A few policemen appeared and stood 
 about by the mill gates, or sauntered 
 through the crowd. But everything was, 
 on this morning, entirely quiet, and there 
 was no occasion for their services. 
 
 Those on the outskirts of the crowd 
 stood quietly smoking their pipes and chat- 
 ting together, while those nearer the gates 
 had closely watched the few whom they 
 had suffered to enter on this occasion with- 
 out comment or outcry. But when these 
 had all passed, their attention seemed still 
 centred upon the same spot, and they 
 watched the gate and each other with looks 
 of uncertain expectancy, as if they feared 
 — no doubt some hoped — that a break 
 
Continuance of the Strike. 117 
 
 might be made in that direction from 
 among themselves. 
 
 When men are doubtful of their ground, 
 and more than half believe that they are in 
 the wrong, a sudden change of purpose and 
 movement on the part of a few, often draws 
 after them the whole number. There is 
 little doubt that, on this occasion, had any 
 considerable number of the well known 
 "Associates of Toil," who stood near the 
 gate, made up their minds to defy the 
 vote of the night before and gone in, they 
 would have been followed by the greater 
 number of those watching them, and the 
 strike would have ended then and there. 
 Many, in their hearts, wished that this might 
 be, but no man made the move. Each 
 waited for his neighbor to take the initia- 
 tive, and the opportunity passed. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm, who had been in the mill 
 consulting with the foremen as to the appli- 
 
ii8 The Strike in the B Mill 
 
 cation of power in certain places, where a 
 few looms and other machinery might be 
 started with the small force present, now 
 came down the steps of the office and ap- 
 proached the gate. He stepped through, 
 and was in the midst of the crowd. 
 
 " Well," he said, raising his voice so that 
 he could be heard by all about him, " are 
 you not going to work this morning, on the 
 new schedule of wages? The mill is open 
 to you all." 
 
 Those about him made no reply. Some 
 whistled a little, others turned away with 
 their hands in their pockets. The superin- 
 tendent turned to a quiet-looking man of 
 middle age, whom he recognized. " Mc- 
 Donald," he said, " why don't you come in, 
 man, and go to work? we are going to pay 
 you what you asked." 
 
 The man looked on the ground sheep- 
 ishly an instant; then, stiffening up, said. 
 
Contifitcance of the Strike, 119 
 
 " We can't work with the scabs, sir. You 
 discharge them as have just gone in there, 
 and we'll come fast enough." 
 
 " That's great nonsense, Mac," said Mal- 
 colm, " and you all know it." 
 
 He still spoke loudly, that all might hear: 
 " I told your folks so last night. We can't 
 refuse to employ these people; they've 
 worked for us as long as any of you, and 
 you have all worked alongside of them. 
 Come, come — listen to reason," he added, 
 " and don't injure yourselves for nothing. 
 We prefer our old hands to new ones. 
 We feel all right about the strike and want 
 you back." 
 
 The men about him listened eagerly, as 
 those who hear something they believe to 
 be true and yet fear to act upon. 
 
 At this moment the executive committee- 
 man. Murphy, pushed through the crowd 
 and exclaimed, " You're keeping us all out 
 
I20 The Strike in the B JMilL 
 
 of work for the sake of a few scabs, Mr. 
 Malcolm!" 
 
 Mr. Marcolm turned sharply and con- 
 fronted him. Though habitually a man of 
 slow speech, he now spoke quickly enough. 
 
 " I am talking to your betters, sir," he 
 said, sternly. " I have had enough of 3'ou 
 leaders, as 3'ou call yourselves." He turned 
 his back on Murphy, who was inclined to 
 reply, but was checked by those about him, 
 who told him that they wanted to hear what 
 Malcolm had to say. " Why," continued 
 Mr. Malcolm to the men, " do you allow 
 such fellows to lead you around by the 
 nose? Vance," he called to our old ac- 
 quaintance, who stood back a little, and did 
 not seem desirous of catching his eye: 
 ^^ Vance, you are a sensible fellow; can't 
 you persuade 3^our friends to listen to 
 reason ! " 
 
 '' Well, I see it's of no use," he con- 
 
Cofitinuance of the St rile e, 121 
 
 tinued, after a pause, during which no one 
 made any reply. " It begins to look as 
 though we should have to get gther help, 
 though we don't wish to do it. We had 
 much rather have yottP He waited a mo- 
 ment looking into the men's faces with his 
 strong and kindly gaze. Then he turned 
 to a policeman. " Clear the way and keep 
 the gate open," he said, shortly, and walked 
 toward the office. As he turned his back, 
 he heard Murphy's voice call out, " Three 
 groans for the superintendent!" and a 
 storm of groans and hisses went up, mainly 
 from the farther part of the crowd, among 
 those who had not heard what he had 
 just been saying. Mr. Malcolm turned 
 and stood quietly facing the crowd a mo- 
 ment, while the noise lasted, and he noticed 
 that from the men to whom he had been 
 speaking no sound arose, except that one 
 or two exclaimed, "shut up" — "stop that 
 
122 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 damned noise!" He recoo^nized their 
 friendly interference with a little smile, and, 
 turning again, went into the office. 
 
 The crowd hung about a while; then it 
 gradually thinned out, and filtered slowly 
 away through the narrow streets in the 
 vicinity. 
 
 But the place remained, throughout the 
 continuance of the strike, a favorite rendez- 
 vous for the more turbulent, who could 
 here collectively manifest their feelings in 
 the hearing of those with whom they had 
 so unwisely chosen to remain at issue. As 
 the non-union men continued to enter the 
 mill, and their numbers subsequently grew 
 larger, they were here nearly sure each day 
 of considerable attention from the strikers, 
 which often assumed a character that ren- 
 dered police protection necessary, as will 
 be seen. 
 
 Vance had felt very uncomfortable when 
 
Continuance of the Strike, 123 
 
 he found himself addressed by Mr. Mal- 
 colm, whom he respected and liked, and he 
 was one of the first to leave the p.lace after 
 the superintendent had returned to the 
 office. He had not been at the meeting of 
 the " Associates of Toil " on the preceding 
 evening, and, when he received word that 
 the strike was to continue unless the non- 
 union men should be refused employment, 
 he had not been altogether satisfied. At 
 that time he did not, it is true, realize the 
 gravity of the error, or the improbability of 
 the corporation yielding to such a demand, 
 though he realized its injustice; nor did he 
 have any purpose of resisting the mandate 
 of the order. But he was an intelligent 
 man, and it appeared to him that a mistake 
 had been made, and, for the first time, he 
 felt some uneasiness as to the result. 
 
 At breakfast on this morning, his wife, 
 who, with a woman's quick intuition, saw 
 
124 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 more clearly than himself how matters 
 were tending, urged him to throw up his 
 membership in the order, and go back to 
 work. " The}^ can't do more than call you 
 a 'scab,' John," she said, "and 3'ou'll be 
 doing right and ought not to care." 
 
 "Well," he replied, "I don't like the 
 name, that's a fact." 
 
 " Here's the mill," . continued his wife, 
 " co.me round and given the advance of 
 wages that was asked, right off, and now 
 these ' Associates ' won't take it because 
 they won't discharge these folks that you've 
 always worked with, and who have got to 
 get a living as well as you. You yourself, 
 John, struck in the first place to help some 
 one else, not yourself; and now you must 
 keep on striking to hurt some one else. It's 
 all wrong, the whole of it; that's what I say." 
 
 " You and Darragh seem to agree about 
 this, Mary." 
 
Continuance of the Strike, 125 
 
 "He thinks so too, does he ?^' she inquired. 
 " Yes," he answered. " They say he put 
 it to them very strong last night. I wish 
 I'd been there." 
 
 "Now I'm sure Fm right," continued 
 Mrs. Vance. " Why douH you leave them, 
 John?" 
 
 " Oh, no, Mary," he said, " that won't do. 
 The mill can't like it, but they'll have to 
 bounce the ' scabs,' I suppose." 
 
 "Yes — and that would be a nice thing 
 for them to do," returned his wife, sar- 
 castically. "John," she added, solemnly, 
 " they'll never do it in this world, never. 
 You mark my words." 
 
 " It would be rather hard on them," he 
 said, thoughtfully; "and some of them 
 pretty good folks, too. Take those Cot- 
 tings and Westfalls, now; I'd hate to see 
 them hurt. But they can get work some- 
 where else, I suppose." 
 
126 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 Mrs. Vance did not reply at once, but 
 she looked very grave as she stirred her 
 cup and gave the children some more bread 
 and butter. She had been brought up on a 
 comfortable New England farm, had re- 
 ceived a fair education, and was intending 
 to undertake the district school for the 
 winter term, when handsome John Vance 
 came along and captivated her by his 
 beauty and easy good-humor. His supe- 
 rior, perhaps, in some respects, her love for 
 him was unbounded; and he had deserved 
 it, for he was a good husband and a thor- 
 ough and steady workman. 
 
 With the ingrained ideas of the respecta- 
 bility of work natural to a farmer's daughter, 
 she felt no repugnance to his occupation, 
 which was that of a foreman in the machine- 
 shop, where his skill and industry earned 
 him laro^e washes. But she had never be- 
 come accustomed to the surroundino^s of a 
 
Continuance of the Strike, 127 
 
 factory village, nor had been able to find 
 much in common with the companions of 
 his labor. She had been very inquisitive 
 reo^ardinor the order of the " Associates of 
 Toil " when her husband joined it, — more, 
 indeed, because he was urged to do so, 
 than from any special belief in its value. 
 
 Mrs. Vance's strong American common- 
 sense had instinctively revolted from what 
 she could see bore a foreign stamp, and 
 was, to her mind, uncongenial to the soil, 
 and opposed to the spirit of the free citizens 
 among whom she had been reared. She 
 now began to discern its power to work 
 injustice. 
 
 "John," she said, after a pause, "it's a 
 sin. How would you like to be thrown out 
 of work because you didn't choose to join 
 something: or other?" 
 
 " I about agree with you and Darragh, 
 Mary," he said; "but the poor scabs have 
 
128 The Strike in the B AlilL 
 
 got to go, Fm afraid, in spite of anything I 
 can do, and I had better stand by the order 
 now and see how things come out. If I 
 turned scab, Fd have to be discharged with 
 the rest, directly; so where's the use." 
 
 Mrs. Vance saw that her husband's mind 
 was made up for the present, and forbore to 
 urge him farther. 
 
 " There is the bell," he said in a moment, 
 getting up from the table. " I guess FU go 
 over and see if the mill really opens this 
 morning, as Mr. Malcolm swore it should." 
 
 He found that the mill was really opened, 
 as has been already related. As he walked 
 away from the gate, he thought over the 
 position of affairs. It really looked as if 
 the corporation had some conscience about 
 this thing, and he wondered to himself 
 whether the "Associates" were not e^oinof to 
 be beaten, after all. A man joined him as 
 he slowly walked toward the main street. 
 
Continuance of the Strike, 129 
 
 " Lots of bluff about old Malcolm, isn't 
 there?" he said, as he overtook Vance. 
 
 *• Well," replied he, "- I never have 
 thought so before, and I'm not sure of 
 it nov^." 
 
 " You don't mean to say," said the other, 
 " that the mill are going to hold out any 
 time for the sake of these scabs? Don't 
 you believe it. They like money too well, 
 and they don't want to get left behind, with 
 all their new patterns half made. No, sir; 
 they'll come round all right in a day or two. 
 They'll get rid of these fellows easy, per- 
 haps, but it'll be done." 
 
 Vance made no reply, but he had a pre- 
 monition that forbade his sharing this view. 
 He felt depressed and anxious, and when, 
 as they passed a groggery, his companion 
 suggested a drink, he went in, wishing for 
 the moment to drive out of his mind the 
 doubts that oppressed it. 
 
130 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 It unfortunately required more than one 
 glass of whiskey to do this, and, as the 
 strike continued, day after day this refuge 
 from thought was sought more steadily. 
 With bitter secret tears, his wife saw him 
 falling into habitual intemperance, and ruin 
 and misery staring them in the face. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MINISTER AND DAUGHTER. — COERCIVE 
 MEASURES. 
 
 TN the quiet parlor of a littie nouse that 
 -'- stood near and was dominated by the 
 great white wooden church, formerly the 
 
 only one in F , in the pleasantness of 
 
 whose sloping green, with its two or three 
 great elms, it comfortably shared, a young 
 lady sat busied with the needle-work so 
 indispensable to every New England 
 woman's fingers when not otherwise em- 
 ployed. Her face, not beautiful, still lacked 
 few of the elements of womanly attractive- 
 ness, and her figure, tastefully dressed, told, 
 by its perfect curves and easy poise, of a 
 health and vigor that in no wise detracted 
 from the refinement that characterized her 
 
 131 
 
132 The Strike iji the B Mill. 
 
 whole appearance. She was the daughter 
 of the Cono^reo^ational minister of F . 
 
 Her father sat by the table, reading a 
 copy of the Andover Review, in which 
 humorous periodical he appeared to be 
 much interested ; though perhaps not 
 wholly pleased with the contents, if one 
 might judge by the subtle changes of ex- 
 pression that passed over his face, and the 
 frown with which from time to time he 
 absently looked over his glasses at his 
 daughter, while endeavoring to digest some 
 doctrine that w^as rather too fine for his 
 robust theological taste. 
 
 A widower for many years, living alone 
 with his daughter, he was in the habit of 
 sitting in her company rather than seeking 
 the seclusion of his own study. They were 
 fast friends, and her presence was never re- 
 garded as a hindrance to his writing or study. 
 
 The minister was old in years, and per- 
 
Min ister and Da ugh te r. 133 
 
 haps a little old in the fashion of his be- 
 liefs. He was a simple, God-fearing man, 
 of good parts and ripe scholarship. Fitted 
 to adorn a wider field of usefulness, he was 
 well content to do faithfully his work where 
 the lot had fallen to him. He adhered to, 
 and taught uncompromisingl}^, the doctrines 
 that had been the reliance of the church for 
 eighteen centuries, not esteeming the man of 
 the present day as especially wiser than his 
 predecessors, though quite as prone to evil. 
 
 For the rest of it, his charity for all men 
 was boundless, and his generosity and kind- 
 ness of heart, allied to a sad want of worldly 
 wisdom, almost amounted to weakness. 
 
 " Father," said his daughter, laying her 
 work in her lap, " I was at Mrs. Vance's 
 house to-day, again. She is in great trou- 
 ble. Things are going from bad to worse 
 with them, and with all the people on the 
 strike." 
 
134 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 "Yes, Ellen," said the minister, laying 
 down his book, after taking off his glasses 
 and placing them between the leaves to 
 mark the place; "yes, I know it too well. 
 These poor people have made a great mis- 
 take, and seem unable to take the simple 
 course necessary to repair it." 
 
 " Mrs. Vance tells me," his daughter con- 
 tinued, " that her husband keeps on drink- 
 ing hard; that their money is about gone, 
 and she does not know what they are to do. 
 All the people I see are every day in worse 
 straits, and there are, of course, others that 
 I have not reached, still worse off, perhaps. 
 I went to see that poor girl that lives over 
 the Vances; and, father, it is terrible! — 
 that poor creature has a little child, and 
 they have not had enough to eat." 
 
 " It is indeed terrible," he replied. " You 
 must have her on our list, my dear." 
 
 " Yes, I have put her name down, and 
 
Minister a7id Daughter. 135 
 
 she shall not suffer so again. But our list 
 is very long, and growing fast." 
 
 "Couldn't you induce this girl to return to 
 work for the sake of her child? " asked her 
 father. 
 
 " I tried. I told her the order would 
 never notice that one little woman had left 
 them. She seemed to want to, like many of 
 them, but was afraid, poor thing. Father, 
 what should we do if it were not for the 
 money that has been so generously given us 
 by others for these people? We have so 
 little of our own, and I think I should die if 
 I could do nothing to help them. It is hard 
 enough, as it is, to see so much suffering 
 and be able to do so little." 
 
 " Well, my daughter," said the minister, 
 " we will do the best we can. That Catho- 
 lic priest is, I have been glad to find, doing 
 all that he can, too. Really," he added, 
 thoughtfully, " he seems a very worthy man." 
 
126 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 d 
 
 The door-bell rang at this moment, and 
 presently George Brayton entered the room. 
 
 The minister leaned back in his rock- 
 ing chair, and extended his hand pleasantly 
 to him. 
 
 " Ha, Juvenis venit ab agro," he said, 
 with a smile; "how do you do, George? 
 and how is your good mother?" 
 
 "We are both well, thank you, Mr. 
 Hardy," said Brayton, w^ho, as the accepted 
 suitor of his daughter, was b}^ no means an 
 unfrequent visitor at the minister's house. 
 The old gentleman, recognizing his manly 
 character, was quite indifferent to his igno- 
 rance of the classics, and his devotion to 
 blooded horses and cattle, but had inti- 
 mated that he should make rather a point 
 of his joining the church before their mar- 
 riage, and, as George was a little slow about 
 this, their courtship was not as short as he 
 had hoped it might be. 
 
Minister and Daughter, 137 
 
 They chatted a few minutes, when Mr. 
 Hardy remarked that he must let Ellen 
 amuse him, as he had not quite finished his 
 reading, and again lost himself in the rather 
 doubtful pleasure found in his pamphlet. 
 
 "I was afraid," said George, "that 1 
 should not be able to come to-night, Ellen." 
 
 " What," she said, " could keep you, 
 George } " 
 
 " You may well wonder what could 
 keep me away from you," he answered; 
 "but this strike is giving us all a great deal 
 of trouble, as well as the persons directly 
 interested." 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I am very sure of that, 
 for I share in the troubles of these unfortu- 
 nates every day, and have the thought of 
 them with me night and da3\" 
 
 " That is not the onl}^ difficulty," he said, 
 "though I feel sorry for them, too." 
 
 " What other phase of the matter gives 
 
138 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 you trouble ? " she asked. " I wish," she 
 continued, " you would explain the whole 
 matter to me. On the one side, I hear 
 every-da}^ complaints at once of the corpo- 
 ration and of the ' Associates of Toil'; and, 
 on the other, blame is laid on the strikers 
 and the order. I have a confused idea of 
 the question without knowing the facts 
 fully. When we have been alone," she 
 added, with a little smile, *^ 3'ou always 
 seem to have preferred another topic, and I 
 fear I have been a little unwillinor to inter- 
 rupt you." 
 
 Georo^e answered her smile with a lovingf 
 look, and, glancing furtively at Mr. Hardy, 
 w^ho continued immersed in his book, 
 reached over and seized and pressed her 
 hand. 
 
 "Well," he said, after a pause, "this 
 thinof has now been ofoino: on a number of 
 weeks, and the strain is getting to be con- 
 
Minister and Daughter. 139 
 
 siderable all around. What appeared to be 
 on the point of settlement at once now 
 seems hopelessly prolonging itself. The 
 whole thing turned, you know, on the 
 demand of the strikers that the company 
 discharge the men who did not belong to 
 their order; for their requests in the matter 
 of wages were granted." 
 
 "Was not that a very unjust thing to 
 those men?" asked Ellen. 
 
 "Nothing could be more so," he an- 
 swered. "It was utterly unjustifiable, and 
 no honorable man or corporation could 
 possibly entertain it for a moment. This 
 Mr. Darragh, of whom you have heard, 
 is a very sensible fellow, and did his best 
 to prevail with the men to give up this 
 absurd requirement after he had arranged 
 the wages for them, but without success. 
 The local leaders seemed to have the 
 greater influence. They are rather bad 
 
140 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 fellows, and have now wdth them a sort 
 of foreign socialist, whose talk does the 
 men no good, though many look on him 
 as a ^ fraud.' At any rate, they have held 
 the men thus far, though their resources 
 are about exhausted. What the outcome 
 is to be, I cannot say." 
 
 " Is not this Mr. Darragh the chief among 
 them?" asked Ellen. — '^ Why, then, do 
 they not obey him ? " 
 
 "I confess," answered George, "that I 
 am unable to explain the working of their 
 machinery. They sometimes obe}' submis- 
 sively the orders of a supreme head, and 
 again appear to be at the mercy of the local 
 junta or Executive Committee. On the 
 other hand, questions are often put in 
 their general meetings and carried by a 
 majority of members. Darragh seems to 
 have done all that he could. He has ad- 
 dressed meeting after meeting, and worked 
 
Mifiister and Daughter, 141 
 
 with the people outside. Many agree with 
 him, but seem afraid to antagonize the 
 opposition ring. It's a wretched state of 
 things." 
 
 "They have told me," said Ellen, "of aid 
 they have received from some source, 
 though it appears to be very insufficient. I 
 could not quite understand about it." 
 
 " Oh, that arises from the contributions 
 of laboring men elsewhere," he replied. 
 " If there were only a few strikes at a 
 time in the country, they might be sus- 
 tained in this way; but there are many 
 now, and the call for funds cannot be 
 met. These people are not receiving half 
 enouo'h. ]\Ir. Alston has been here a o^reat 
 deal, and tried to make up matters in various 
 ways — 3'ou know how much money he is 
 spending every day, through you and else- 
 where, to help the need}'." 
 
 " Yes," said Helen ; " he has given me a 
 
142 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 great deal. What we could have done for 
 these poor women without the help from 
 you and him, I do not know." 
 
 " Fve not done much; but you have only 
 to bring a case of distress to Alston's atten- 
 tion, and he seems to forget entirely the fact 
 that this strike is a direct injury to his own 
 property, and to lose sight of the unreason- 
 able conduct of the very persons whom he 
 puts his hand in his pocket to help." 
 
 " He is a noble man ! " said Ellen. 
 
 "Yes; I could hardly have believed it of 
 a fellow brought up as he has probably 
 been. Why, he has gone about among the 
 hands himself in the most energetic way try- 
 ing to make them hear reason. They like 
 him, but seem afraid to follow his advice. 
 He came across that Kohler, the anarchist, 
 the other day, in a crowd, and, hearing 
 some of his vile talk, Alston expressed 
 his opinion of him with entire freedom. 
 
Min ister a n d Daugh ter, 143 
 
 Kohler ^ sized him up,' as they say, and 
 sneaked off in silence, the men about only 
 laughing at him. Very fortunately, the 
 anarchist does not appear to be a magnetic 
 sort of man. 
 
 "What troubles me, Ellen, is that while 
 the leaders are losing their grip and know 
 it, they still have a hope of doing some- 
 thing that shall drive the mill to terms by 
 scaring out the new men they've taken on. 
 There have been a good many individual 
 outrages and assaults, and they are increas- 
 ing. I'm afraid of some organized violence 
 against the property of the mill, or against 
 these ' scabs,' as they call them." 
 
 "Yes — " said Ellen; "what a very un- 
 pleasant name it is, by the way." 
 
 "These associations," said Brayton, "seem 
 desirous of giving the outsiders the most 
 odious of names." 
 
 " It is not altogether a bad idea from their 
 
144 ^^^^ Strike in the B MilL 
 
 point of view," said Ellen. " Some might 
 join to avoid such a name as that." 
 
 The minister had continued reading 
 during the conversation : but at this mo- 
 ment he laid down his book again. 
 
 " George," he said, " when is this thing 
 to be over ? I see want, distress, and vio- 
 lence everywhere." 
 
 " It is everywhere, sir," replied Brayton ; 
 " and, as I tell Ellen, I fear there may be 
 worse in prospect. We have a large police 
 
 force now for F . A detail is on duty 
 
 here almost every night from M , and we 
 
 may need them all ; for the leaders and the 
 gang they keep about them are getting 
 desperate." 
 
 " Can the town do nothing to supply the 
 wants of this suffering population ? " asked 
 Mr. Hardy, who was far more alive to this 
 branch of the subject than the one just 
 suggested. 
 
Minister and Daughter. 145 
 
 " It is a question with us," said Brayton, 
 " whether we have a right to extend the 
 pubHc aid to people who have plenty of 
 work at wages they admit are satisfactory, 
 and will take neither ; but" — 
 
 "What is that?" said Ellen, suddenly; 
 " don't you hear those shouts ? " Brayton 
 arose, and, going to one of the front win- 
 dows, opened it and listened a moment. 
 
 "I think I had better go down street and 
 look around a little," he said quietly to 
 Ellen. 
 
 She looked in his face, and was not 
 deceived by his quiet tones. 
 
 " George, don't go," she said, quickly, also 
 in a low voice. " It is something serious, 
 I'm afraid — and you will get into danger." 
 
 " Nonsense, darling," he said ; " it's noth- 
 ing of the kind, probably ; and none of them 
 have anything against me. 
 
 "Well, good-evening Mr. Hardy," he said. 
 
146 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 in a louder tone. " I ouorht to be starting: 
 for home." 
 
 Ellen followed him into the hall. 
 
 " Do be careful, George," she said as he 
 kissed her. " All right, I will," he replied, 
 affectionately but carelessly, and went out. 
 
 She returned to the sitting-room, and, 
 again opening the window, stood with the 
 cool evening air fanning her face, that had 
 suddenly grown very pale. Her hand was 
 pressed to her bosom, as if to still the beat- 
 ing of her heart, while she listened intently. 
 The next moment she drew back as she 
 heard the sound of many feet approaching 
 the house, and six or eight rough-looking 
 men ran by. She could hear their loud 
 words, and noticed sticks or other weapons 
 in their hands. As she leaned forward and 
 watched them, she saw a lad}^ and gentle- 
 man cross the street in the moonlight, as if 
 to avoid them. The sound of their heavy 
 
Ministej' and Daughter, 147 
 
 steps soon died away, and, though listening 
 long, Ellen heard nothing more. 
 
 " Had you not better close that window, 
 my dear ? " said her father, who, in his ab- 
 sent way, had been aware of nothing un- 
 usual. " It is rather a chilly evening to sit 
 out-of-doors, as I seem to be doing just at 
 present." 
 
 Brayton, upon leaving the minister's 
 house, ran in the direction of the noise, 
 and, as he passed down the street, met the 
 party of men that startled Ellen a mo- 
 ment or two later. He stopped as they 
 brushed by him without recognition, but, 
 overhearing a remark of one of them, 
 judged that, instead of meditating mischief, 
 they were running from the scene of dis- 
 order, and so kept on his way. He proved 
 to be right in this conjecture, for, though the 
 loud cries had now ceased, he heard voices 
 as he reached the head of a narrow way 
 
148 The Strike 7?i the B All 11. 
 
 that made out of the main street, and, 
 adjusting his revolver in his hip pocket, he 
 instantly turned the corner and walked rap- 
 idly tow^ard a group of men a few rods 
 down the alley. They proved to be mem- 
 bers of the town police, who were talking 
 with two non-union men, whom, it ap- 
 peared, they had just rescued from a gang 
 of ruffians, by whom they had been dogged 
 and finally assaulted in this out-of-the-way 
 corner. One man, standing handcuffed in 
 charge of a policeman, was the only one 
 of the cowards who had not been quick 
 enough to escape when the officers ap- 
 peared. This, fortunately, had been in time 
 to prevent serious, if not fatal, injury to the 
 two poor fellows whom they found de- 
 fending themselves manfully against over- 
 whelming odds. Brayton heard the details 
 of the affair with rising indignation. 
 
 " Keep that scoundrel safe," he said to 
 
Mi7iister and Daughter, 149 
 
 the policemen, pointing to the prisoner, 
 '^ and have him up to-morrow morning; and 
 spare no pains to get track of the others. 
 You say you recognized none of them? 
 Did not youf'' he added, turning to the 
 men who had been assaulted, as the officers 
 shook their heads. 
 
 "No, sir," answered one of them; "we 
 are strangers here, and know hardly any 
 one. We only took on at the mill last 
 Monday." 
 
 " Well," said Brayton to the police, " find 
 them out, if possible. There have been 
 enough of these outrageous performances in 
 
 F , and it seems very queer that these 
 
 rascals can get away every time." 
 
 Bra3^ton spoke sharpl}^, for he felt very 
 keenly the disgrace resting upon the town 
 that could not protect its citizens. 
 
 " You should not blame us, sir," said one 
 of the officers. " These fellows lay for 
 
150 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 their men and pounce on them, and off 
 they go before any one can get to them. 
 Only for these two making such a good 
 fight, they'd have been half killed before 
 we could possibly get here. We cannot be 
 everywhere, Mr. Brayton, though we try 
 hard enough." 
 
 "Well, well," said Brayton, more pleas- 
 antly, "do the best you can. We'll make 
 an example of this gentleman, at any rate. 
 Which way are you going?" he asked 
 the two men. 
 
 "We're on our way home, over to the 
 south tenement block." 
 
 "Come along, then," said Brayton; "I'll 
 see you home. No!" he said to a couple of 
 the policemen, who took up their march 
 behind them; "3'ou lose no time, all of 
 you, in trying to head some of that gang to- 
 night. They went up the street, and you 
 might find them together. I can take care 
 
Minister and Daughter, 151 
 
 of these men, for I have my seven-shooter 
 w^ith me. Is your arm much hurt?" he 
 asked of one of the men, who held up his 
 ri^ht arm with the other hand. 
 
 "Not much, I guess," said the man; 
 "but a fellow fetched me a clip with his 
 club just in the place where I got a bullet- 
 wound twenty-odd years ago, and it's rather 
 a tender spot. It hurts some, but it's noth- 
 
 ins: serious." 
 
 " Ah, yes — too bad," said Brayton. 
 "These strikers are some of them as 
 cruel as they are unjust." 
 
 " If they have no reason for pitching into 
 us," continued the man, warmly; "they 
 ought at least to give us fair play in a fight, 
 damn them! It is too bad, sir," he went 
 on, " that a man can't earn a living in a free 
 country, without having to fight for his life 
 at the same time. Is there no law, or do 
 these ' Associates ' run the country? " 
 
152 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 "There is law;" replied Brayton, — he 
 stopped and laid his hand on the man's 
 shoulder, — "and you'll find hereafter, I 
 hope," he continued, " that the ' Associates 
 of Toil ' don't run F , at any rate." 
 
 "Well," said the man, "I hope not. I 
 think we have a right to work^ if nothing 
 else." 
 
 " It w^ould seem so," said Bray ton, w^ith a 
 laugh. " It is certainly very little to ask of 
 society — a chance to work in peace. I 
 suppose," he continued, as they walked 
 along together, " you knew about the strike 
 w^hen you came here for work?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered one. " But we were 
 thrown out of work three weeks ago by the 
 
 strike over in H . The mill had to shut 
 
 down, you know, and when we heard that 
 these men w^ere onl}^ standing out because 
 of some non-union men beins^ allow^ed 
 work, we didn't see why we hadn't a right 
 
c 
 
 Mill iste r and Da ugh te r, 153 
 
 to come. We ain't ^Associates of Toil,' but 
 if they was out on a matter of wages we'd 
 never cut under them, ' Associates ' or no 
 ^Associates.' That's fair enough, ain't it? " 
 
 ^ I should say it was," said Brayton. 
 
 Why is it that you are not members of 
 the order?" he asked, after a moment. 
 
 " Well, sir," replied the man, who was a 
 straight, tall fellow, " I prefer to be my own 
 master. I w^as a soldier in the war" — 
 
 "Ah ! there's where you were wounded ? " 
 said Brayton. 
 
 " Yes. I didn't mind being officered 
 round there, for I knew the need of it. 
 Every one there had to obey some one else 
 — officers and all — except, perhaps, old 
 Grant," added the man, with a little laugh. 
 " But when they came around about this 
 ' Associates of Toil ' business, I made up 
 my mind I didn't want an}* of it." 
 
 " Didn't you like the style of its manage- 
 
154 '^^^^ Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 ment, or what was the trouble ? " asked 
 Brayton. 
 
 " I w^ant to do as I think best about my 
 work," replied the other. " With them, 
 first it's orders and then it's voting, and you 
 don't know where you are. But," he added, 
 emphatically, " it's pretty sure to be w^here 
 you don't want to be, every time. As to 
 management — well, I can see that a few 
 men manage it so that they can get a living 
 out of it, no matter what becomes of the 
 crowd." 
 
 "Don't you think," asked Brayton, "that 
 you men will be forced to join some time?" 
 
 The other man, who had hitherto been a 
 listener, now said, quickly: — 
 
 "Never! They can't force us nor a good 
 many others into that thing. I've worked," 
 he continued, " for hard men and easy men; 
 but, w^hichever they are, I'll make my ovvn 
 bargains. And if I see a chance to get on 
 
Minister and Daughter. 155 
 
 fairly, I'm going to take it without asking 
 leave of the ^Associates of Toil.' No 
 bummers and shirks are going to tie me 
 down to their rates." 
 
 "That's the way of it, is it?" said Bray- 
 ton, who was interested, and liked to draw 
 them out. " It tends to keep you all down 
 to one level? " 
 
 "Yes, sir — that's just the way oi it. 
 And they can blow about its being a help 
 to the laboring man, as much as they like 
 — it keeps more down than it helps up." 
 
 "How is it," asked Brayton, "that so 
 many have gone into it and stay in?" 
 
 "Well," said the man, "that's hard to 
 say. Many good men thought at first it 
 might be a good thing, and some think so 
 yet, perhaps; but I know lots of them that 
 are sick of it. The poor workmen like to 
 be taken care of by executive committees 
 and such like, and to be as important and 
 
156 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 have as much to say as those who work 
 harder and do better with what they get. 
 It's that kind of men that stand most by 
 the order, and can't see that it's doing them 
 harm." 
 
 "Hallo," said Brayton, stopping; "here 
 "we are at the south tenement. The police 
 keep these fellows away from here pretty 
 much, don't they?" 
 
 " Oh, yes — but we hear talk round 
 that they're going to blow us up some 
 time." 
 
 " I reckon," said Brayton, " that we'll 
 prevent that. It seems to me," he added, 
 looking at the stars, as he stood, with his 
 hands in his pockets, leaning against the 
 fence that ran alons: the front of the build- 
 ing, " as if you men had rather the best 
 notion of this labor matter. And, in spite 
 of the treatment 3'ou have just received, I 
 am inclined to think that many of the 
 
Minister and Daughter. 157 
 
 ' Associates ' in this town would agree with 
 you to-da}^" 
 
 " Fm sure of it," said one of the men; 
 " though there's some of them mighty ugly 
 and determined." 
 
 " Now," said Brayton, drawing his self- 
 cocking seven-shooter from his pocket, 
 "you had a hard time to-night, and I feel 
 very sorry about it. I will lend you this 
 pistol," he said, handing it to the old sol- 
 dier, " if you'll agree to carry it and shoot 
 down the first scoundrel who attacks you 
 again. And when you," he added, turning 
 to the other man, " are at the police station 
 to-morrow as a witness on the trial of that 
 fellow, I'll give orders that they give you 
 another, on the same understanding. It 
 won't be as good a one as mine, but it will 
 be good enough." 
 
 The men thanked him, and, bidding them 
 good-evening, he walked down to the stable 
 
158 The Strike in the B Mill 
 
 for his horse, as it was too late to return 
 to the minister's that evenins^. He thouo^ht, 
 as he went along, of the change that had 
 come over this New Eno^land villao^e, where 
 he knew even his own safety required him 
 to go armed after nightfall; and where, day 
 and night, a large number of peaceable men 
 and women, who were trying to get their 
 living, were liable to insults and violence; 
 were, indeed, except for strong police pro- 
 tection, in far more danger of life and limb 
 here, in a state hitherto famed for the wis- 
 dom of its laws and the safety and free- 
 dom of its citizens, than in those lawless 
 western communities in which he had lived. 
 He thought of Darragh and many good 
 quiet men whom he knew in the town, who 
 belonged to the order of the " Associates of 
 Toil," and he marvelled that such men 
 could not see the wickedness of giving 
 their moral support to an organization that, 
 
Min ister ajid Da ugh ter, 159' 
 
 while it denounced violence in high-sound- 
 ing phrases, 3'et countenanced, and suffered 
 to remain in its ranks, the perpetrators of 
 these outrages; and, indeed, never scrupled 
 to avail itself of any temporary advantages 
 that might be occasionally gained by such 
 nefarious tactics. 
 
 Brayton v^as aroused from these medita- 
 tions by the rumble of a heavy two-horse 
 wagon that was pulled up suddenly just as 
 it got by him. 
 
 " Why, that is yew, George," said the 
 voice of Mr. Bradshaw, who was perched 
 high at the forward end of a load of farm 
 produce. " Ye're out pritty middlin' airly, 
 ain't ye ? " 
 
 " I call it pretty middling late," said 
 Brayton ; "but I'm no later than you." 
 
 " Oh — I'm goin' into th' city with a load 
 er truck. — Cal'late to be to th' market by 
 four o'clock in the mornin' ye see. Naow, 
 
i6o The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 George, I ain't in no great uv a hurry," con- 
 tinued Mr. Bradshaw, letting his reins drop 
 loosely, and throwing one leg over the other 
 knee. " Fd like to see if me and you 
 couldn't settle suthin' 'bout them heifers. 
 Ye see " — 
 
 " Now, Mr. Bradshaw," interrupted Bray- 
 ton, laughing, "you may just go to thunder ; 
 I'm not eroinor to stand here trading- cows in 
 the middle of the night, by a long chalk. 
 
 So you just ' hump ' yourself for B , and 
 
 I'll drive home and get to bed. Good- 
 night." 
 
 " Sho, naow, George — hold on jest a 
 minnit," said the farmer, picking up his 
 reins, and starting the team to keep up with 
 Brayton, who, suiting action to word, was 
 walking on. 
 
 " I like them critters, George," he contin- 
 ued, walking his horses alongside. " Naow I 
 railly'd like ter talk it over a piece with ye — " 
 
Minister and Daughter, i6i 
 
 " I'll be up by your place some day and 
 stop," said Brayton. 
 
 " That's it — naow dew, Georges' — soon's 
 ye can, too," said Mr. Bradshaw, eagerly. 
 
 " Half Durham, ye said, George ? " he 
 called, as Brayton turned into the stable 
 yard. "Waal, good-night, good-night"; 
 and Mr. Bradshaw resumed his weary jour- 
 ney to market, while Brayton, waking up 
 the stable boy, got his mare put in, and 
 drove home. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A DIRECTOR. 
 
 ly/TR. ALSTON'S interest in the differ- 
 ences between the corporation and 
 its employes, as we have heard from Bray-' 
 ton, had not flagged. Determining, when 
 the trouble first arose, to make a careful 
 study of the matter, the later phases of the 
 difficulty and the singular position assumed 
 by the strikers only had the effect of far- 
 ther stimulating his curiosity, and affording 
 him a more complete illustration from 
 which to study the general questions sug- 
 gested. He inherited a large interest in 
 the property at his father's death, but had 
 hitherto attached little importance to his 
 position as a director, had rarely attended a 
 meeting, and looked upon the B mill 
 
 162 
 
A Director. 163 
 
 only as a source of income when, as 
 usually, it paid, and of annoyance when it 
 passed a dividend. 
 
 He had been thoroughly aroused, as we 
 have seen, by the unjust attitude that the 
 corporation had so long maintained toward 
 its employes, in the matter of wages. It 
 had made a strong impression upon his 
 careless mind, and he began to comprehend 
 the fact that the employment of thousands 
 of people carried with it certain responsi- 
 bilities toward them. That mill hands were 
 men and women — not cotton, as Mr. 
 Hartwell expressed it, to be paid for and 
 thought no more of; that their needs, their 
 deserts, and even their sentiments and 
 prejudices, were entitled to fair considera- 
 tion. And if, according to the popular 
 aphorism, a corporation had, as such, no 
 soul wherewith to recognize these things, 
 that fact did not excuse its officials from 
 
164 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 the possession of theirs. He saw, in the 
 light of his own involuntary injustice, how 
 hard it was for the individual workman to 
 stand up for his rights against a rich corpo- 
 ration that had hejp offering in all direc- 
 tions; and that, unless a certain abstract jus- 
 tice characterized its dealings, the laborer 
 was likely to go to the wall. And he now 
 began to see the raison d^etre of labor 
 organizations. Turning his attention to the 
 order of the "Associates of Toil," he had 
 abundant evidence before him that, while 
 the shortcomings of human nature rendered 
 it sometimes difficult for business relations 
 between men to adjust themselves with 
 absolute fairness, the same reason prevented 
 this organization from accomplishing any 
 good purpose. That, while intended in its 
 inception to be of present benefit to him, it 
 was already becoming a positive injury to 
 the laboring man, and that, from its great 
 
A Director, 165 
 
 numbers and the ease with which it could 
 be manipulated by bad men, it might, if it 
 continued too long, menace social order 
 and the liberties of the people; while the 
 hope of bringing about by these arbitrary 
 means the ultimate theoretical objects it 
 professed to have in view was the impos- 
 sible dream of mere enthusiasts. In the 
 case before him, he had been at first glad 
 to find the way clear to repair the injustice 
 of the employer, and that, as he had 
 thought, it was so easily accomplished. 
 But when he found that his espousal of 
 the cause of the workmen was rendered 
 nugatory by their own folly and injustice, 
 he had felt the sincerest regret and disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 All these contradictions puzzled and dis- 
 tressed him, and being much of his time in 
 
 F during the intervening weeks, he had 
 
 personally seen and reasoned on various 
 
1 66 The Strike in the B ]\IilL 
 
 occasions with one and another of the men 
 whom he had met, in the endeavor to per- 
 suade them to abandom their wrong position 
 and end the strike. His belief in the mis- 
 chievous character of their organization was 
 intensified when he found how many of its 
 
 members in F were not in sympathy 
 
 with its attitude on this question, and were 
 prevented from going back to work at the 
 new and satisfactory rates of wages by 
 their fears alone. 
 
 For several weeks he had largely given 
 up his usual employments and recreations 
 and appeared to think of little else but the 
 affairs of the corporation and of the strik- 
 ing operatives. 
 
 He revived his studies in political econ- 
 omy, neglected since leaving college, and 
 spent many hours in the factory, learning 
 the methods of work and the relations of 
 the men to the machinery that they used. 
 
A Director. 167 
 
 In short, the practical part of manufactur- 
 incr. His club knew him no more, and, as 
 he never had time now to follow the hounds, 
 the villanous Pat was daily doing his best 
 to kill the plucky little groom who ventured 
 to 2:ive him his exercise. 
 
 Alston was told one morning while at 
 breakfast that this person was below and 
 desired to speak with him. 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested his wife, " some 
 one has sent you an offer for Pat. I hope 
 so, Pm sure." 
 
 "I doubt it extremely," replied Alston. 
 " He's rather too well known, I fancy, for 
 that. Indeed," he added, " I should almost 
 be afraid to sell him, for fear of a future 
 action for criminal negligence." 
 
 " Ned," said his wife, looking around the 
 tea urn with a solemn face, " does the 
 thought of your criminal negligence in 
 riding that horse never occur to you ? " 
 
1 68 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 " Ada ! " he replied, with the expression 
 of a judge when about to pronounce sen- 
 tence of death, " it does. I have often been 
 afraid," he continued, " that that horse 
 w^ould break his neck, and that I was wrong 
 to thus ride him to his doom." 
 
 Mrs. Alston deigned no further remark, 
 but got out her handkerchief with a con- 
 siderable flourish. 
 
 Alston laughed. " My dearest," he said, 
 " why are you so ridiculous on this one sub- 
 ject, when you are so exceedingly sensible 
 •on all others. Abnormally so, in fact, — 
 for a woman," he added, musingly. 
 
 " For a w^oman, indeed," exclaimed his 
 w^ife, replacing her handkerchief with a 
 look of great disgust. " I am very much 
 obliged to you, I am sure. Really you are 
 quite too complimentary this morning, Ned. 
 Pray, are we to see you at lunch to-day, 
 
 sir," she added, " or are you to be in F , 
 
 as usual ? " 
 
A Director, 169 
 
 " F , as usual, I fear," he said. 
 
 He arose from his chair, and went around 
 the table. 
 
 " Come," he said, holding out his hand, 
 " let us part in all charity. Upon more 
 mature reflection, I feel that I have done 
 you an injustice. You are the best of your 
 sex, it is true, but you are not too un- 
 pleasantly sensible, after all — " 
 
 ^' Go away, — wretch!" said his wife, 
 laughing, as she pushed away his hand ; 
 " your conduct is simply disgraceful — 
 there!" 
 
 "Well," he said, "I think I had better 
 go down and see what that little beggar 
 James has to say. I think I know pretty 
 well. I hope he will treat me better than 
 you have, at all events." 
 
 " How are you, James ? " he said, as he 
 entered the room where the horsy-look- 
 ing little Englishman, with mutton-chop 
 
170 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 whiskers and saddle-bowed legs, was 
 waiting. 
 
 The groom touched his forehead with a 
 forefinger, as he arose from his chair. 
 
 " What brings you to town to-day," con- 
 tinued Alston; '^nothing the matter with 
 Major or Pat, is there?" 
 
 " Major, sir, is hall right," replied the 
 man; ^' but hit's about that 'ere 'oss Pat, Mr. 
 Halston, that I've come hup, sir. 'E's that 
 wicked, sir, that 'e'll do hisself a mischief, 
 I'm afraid, let alone me, if 'e ain't ridden 
 some, sir." 
 
 "I'm afraid he will," said Alston; "I 
 wonder if I hadn't better have him shot?" 
 
 "Oh, no, sir, 'e's too good a 'oss!" said 
 the groom, quickly, his admiration for the 
 high qualities of the animal overcoming 
 his disgust at his bad conduct. " I honly 
 wanted to know," he went on, " hif me or 
 'Enery, or some of the gentlemen as might 
 
A Di recto?'. 171 
 
 want, could 'ave 'im hout once or twice a 
 week ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Alston; "hunt him your- 
 self, or let any good rider have him that 
 wants him. They can't hurt him, confound 
 him! It don't much matter, so that he 
 don't hurt them. By the way," he added, 
 
 " I was going to F to-da3\ Suppose I 
 
 take the train with you and ride that brute 
 across from the kennels. It's about twenty- 
 five miles over to F , and I can take 
 
 considerable out of him, I should say. Til 
 ride him back to-morrow, or next day." 
 
 " Well, sir," replied the groom, doubt- 
 fully, "you'll 'ave your 'ands full, I dessay; 
 and the 'ard 'igh-road's none too good for 
 ees legs. But Pat and you, sir, seem to get 
 on together better than 'e does with most 
 others. As for the pounding," he contin- 
 ued, thoughtfully, with an English groom's 
 objection to a hunter being ridden off the 
 
172 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 turf, " I don't know — but nothin' ever 
 did seem to 'urt that 'ere particular 'oss, 
 some'ow." he concluded, more cheerfully. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, Alston turned into 
 
 the main street of F . His horse was 
 
 dark with sweat, but had apparently plenty 
 of " go " left in him yet. The fire in his 
 eye was unquenched, and his temper evi- 
 dently still unsubdued. 
 
 The animal had, indeed, needed exercise. 
 Attracted by his matchless power and sym- 
 metry, joined to an unimpeachable pedi- 
 gree, Alston had purchased him in Ireland 
 for a song, after nearly coming to grief in 
 trying him, his extreme viciousness render- 
 ing him almost worthless. With infinite 
 trouble, and some risk, he had succeeded in 
 establishing a sort of armed neutrality be- 
 tween them for the most part, and, when the 
 horse chose to go straight, he had the satis- 
 faction of beinof the best mounted man in 
 
A Director. 173 
 
 every field with which he rode. When he 
 didn't so choose, it was quite another affair. 
 Perhaps Alston had never had more diffi- 
 culty in keeping his seat and his temper 
 than on this occasion. The animal seemed 
 possessed of the devil, and had done about 
 everything but get down and roll over him. 
 His master wondered if it were not possible 
 for a horse to be insane, as, straining his 
 powerful neck and gripping the bit hard, 
 with swelling muscles and every nerve 
 tense, the wicked beast curveted and 
 plunged down the street, aroused to re- 
 newed efforts by the sights and sounds of 
 the village. Dusty and tired, and with his 
 temper at last little better than that of his 
 horse, Alston pulled him hard around to 
 enter the stable-yard of the tavern. A 
 group of men loitering on the sidewalk 
 jumped aside, as the great horse swerved 
 violently from some object in the narrow 
 
174 T^^^ Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 passage-way, and Alston heard one of them 
 say, loudly: "That's like your kind — to 
 ride over us! If we had horses we'd ride 
 over you! " 
 
 In Alston's state of mind at the moment, 
 these words acted like oil on a smoulderingf 
 fire. Straightening his horse with a strong 
 wrench, he threw both i^oX. from the stir- 
 rups and sprang from the saddle with his 
 hand on the pommel. Alighting on the 
 sidewalk, he turned and confronted the man 
 who had spoken, with an angry stare. 
 
 " Well, sir," he said, savagely, " you can 
 have a horse; take this one! Upon my 
 w^ord of honor, if you'll ride him across the 
 street, 3^ou can have him for nothing and 
 welcome. Come — get on, man ! " he 
 added, pointing to the saddle, as the man 
 looked wonderingly at him. " Get on, and 
 ride over whom ever you please." 
 
 The others stared, then laughed. "Mount 
 
A Director. 175 
 
 him, Jake!" they cried, "go ahead! The 
 gentleman will keep his word." 
 ' The man, a good-looking young fellow 
 of about Alston's height and build, gave 
 him a surly glance and looked at the horse, 
 that stood for the moment quiet before him, 
 with heaving flanks. He made a step for- 
 ward, as if to mount, when he caught the 
 animal's eye rolling viciously in its socket, 
 and heard Alston's quick cry of " look out 
 there!" and he leaped backward just in 
 time to escape a sudden stroke of the 
 horse's forefoot. It was fortunate for him 
 that Alston, keeping one eye constantly on 
 the dangerous animal, whose every move- 
 ment he understood, had, as he warned him, 
 jerked the rein violently and destroyed the 
 horses' balance, lessening the reach and pre- 
 cision of the blow, else it might not have 
 been avoided. 
 
 "You want me killed, I guess," mut- 
 
176 The Strike in the B Mill 
 
 tered the man, as he moved further 
 away. 
 
 "Well," said Alston, now quite mollified; 
 " you give him up, do you ? Perhaps 3^ou 
 see, my friend," giving another pull on the 
 rein, as the horse seemed to meditate further 
 mischief, "that I was not myself much to 
 blame for so nearly riding you down. My 
 name is Alston," he went on with a nod to 
 the men, " and you all ought to know by 
 this time that I am not one to impose on 
 any man." 
 
 "That's so — I've heard of you, Mr. 
 Alston," said one of the men heartily, as 
 Alston turned away and led his horse care- 
 fully to the stable, where, with his own 
 assistance, the pernicious beast was put up, 
 and, in the littered seclusion of his stall, had 
 time to reflect upon his sinful nature, and 
 the extra fatigue it had entailed upon him. 
 
 Alston, who never missed an opportunity 
 
A Director, 177 
 
 of talking with the strikers, and knowing 
 these men to be of their number, went back 
 to the street, where they still remained, 
 talking and chaffing the would-be horse- 
 man among their number. He had good- 
 naturedly laughed with them, and Alston 
 found them all rather jolly and disposed to 
 meet his friendly advances in the same 
 spirit. 
 
 ^'Come in a minute," he said, in his direct 
 way, " and let's talk over the strike a little." 
 
 The men hesitated, and one said that he 
 saw no good in talking of that. He had 
 seen enough of it as it w^as. 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied Alston; "there is 
 good in it. I never have met you before, 
 and I want to get your views. Come in, 
 come in." 
 
 The men looked at each other, and then 
 in his pleasant face, and came up the steps. 
 There was quite a party of them, tor the 
 
178 The Strike in the B Mill 
 
 little colloqu}^ bj^the passage-way had drawn 
 others around. The curiosity of idle men is 
 alive to the slightest incident, and a crowd 
 forms readily when a strike is in force. 
 
 Alston w^as glad to see that the bar w^as 
 closed, but sent for some good cigars that 
 seemed to be appreciated. 
 
 " What do you wish to say to us, Mr. 
 Alston?'' said one of the men, standing 
 near him. 
 
 '^I've plenty to say to you," said Alston, 
 with a smile. " But I should prefer to hear 
 what you had to say first. Come now, Mr. 
 Hines," he said, to an older man, a little 
 further off, "you are one of the finance 
 committee, they tell me. How are you 
 getting along with this strike? Has it not 
 gone far enough?" 
 
 " Well, sir," answered Hines, " I cannot 
 tell you anything got from my official posi- 
 tion in the order." 
 
A Director. 179 
 
 "No — certainly not," ^said Alston. "I 
 beg your pardon — that would not be right. 
 But as a private individual," he continued, 
 " don't you think it is quite time for us to 
 make up matters ? " 
 
 Hines w^as a thoughtful-looking, middle- 
 ao-ed man. He did not now look at his 
 companions, but straight at Alston, and, 
 after a pause, said, with some emphasis, — 
 
 " Things ain't been run just right, and it 
 isn't the first time I've thought so. And," 
 he added, turning a little toward the 
 others, "you may all make the most of 
 what I say. But," he went on, " Pm not 
 sure that because this strike's been managed 
 bad, we ought to break up. If the ' Asso- 
 ciates ' don't stand together we shall be a 
 failure; and that I'd hate to see." 
 
 " Yes," replied Alston ; " that's all right. 
 Stick together so long as you're in the right, 
 but do it to help yourselves, not to injure 
 
i8o The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 somebody else. How can you expect to 
 succeed if you are unjust? " 
 
 " That is what Darragh says," returned 
 Hines, "and I believe it's right. But we 
 oughtn't to go to pieces because we've 
 made one mistake." 
 
 " No," said Alston, " but you will go to 
 pieces — you'll go to eternal smash all 
 around, I tell you, if you don't repair your 
 mistakes when you see them as plainly as 
 you do now." 
 
 The other men did not say anything, but 
 listened intently. 
 
 " Now just understand this," Alston went 
 on, after waiting a moment for some one to 
 speak, " I'm not urging you to come back 
 for my own benefit, but wholly for your 
 own." 
 
 "Why!" said another man, "don't it 
 hurt the mill to have us on strike?" 
 
 "Yes, it does," replied Alston, quickly. 
 
A Director, i8i 
 
 " But if we should tr}^ we could escape that 
 by filling it in a week with other help. But 
 we have made no effort to get them; just 
 taken the few that have applied of them- 
 selves." 
 
 "Why haven't you done it, sir?" per- 
 sisted the man. 
 
 "Why?" said Alston. "Because the 
 superintendent and myself want to keep the 
 old help if we can. Confound it, men! 
 can't you see that we haven't wanted to fill 
 your places if we could avoid it, in spite 
 of what I am bound to call your infernal 
 folly." 
 
 As Alston said these words, no man there 
 doubted him, or resented his vigorous lan- 
 guage. Honesty of purpose and strong 
 sympathy for them were in every line of 
 his face. It was evident that they were 
 moved, and a look of pained indecision 
 came over their faces. 
 
1 82 The Strike hi the B Alill. 
 
 "Just make a break of it," continued 
 Alston; "do your duty to yourselves and 
 your families. If your organization is good 
 for anything, it will stand the lesson of 
 such action, and be benefited by it." 
 
 At this moment Darragh entered the 
 room. He looked about him in some sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Here, Mr. Darragh," called out Alston, 
 as he perceived him; "our friends here 
 have been polite enough to listen to a little 
 of your doctrine from me. Perhaps I have 
 set their minds at rest on one point; but, for 
 the rest of it, you are an abler advocate 
 than I." 
 
 " I must go now^," he added, looking at 
 his watch. As he bade them good-bye, his 
 hand itched to do something directly to re- 
 lieve their necessities. But he feared that 
 open pecuniary assistance might be mis- 
 understood, and offend their pride, and he 
 
A Director. 183 
 
 considerately restrained the impulse and 
 went away. 
 
 Two hours later he entered the mill 
 office, and, asking for Mr. Malcolm, was 
 told that he was in the factory, talking with 
 a lot of the old hands who were proposing 
 to go to work. 
 
 "How many of them are there?" asked 
 Alston. The clerk understood they would 
 represent several hundred. 
 
 " They are the first of the ' Associates,' " 
 he added, " who have come in, with the 
 exception of a few stragglers." 
 
 " Well," said Alston, " thank goodness 
 that a little sense is coming to some of 
 them — Hullo, Malcolm," he added to the 
 superintendent, who just entered; "they 
 seem to be breaking up, do they?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Malcolm; " many of them 
 have been getting rather despondent. Out- 
 side aid comes in slowly, and, as we all 
 
184 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 know, there is a great deal of suffering. 
 Something you and Darragh said to a num- 
 ber of them down street seems to have 
 struck them at just the right moment — for 
 they must have known it all before, — and 
 they say they'll leave the order, come back, 
 and bring a lot with them. If they stick, it 
 is my impression we shall have seen the end 
 of the trouble, for the whole are likely to 
 rush in when they find there are enough 
 to protect them. But you can't tell," he 
 added; "I've seen many strikes. Indeed, I 
 have been in them in my time, though, I be- 
 lieve, always with a fair grievance. I know 
 how things work with strikers. These have 
 agreed to come in the morning; but we 
 may not see one of them." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MR. HARDY. 
 
 l^wTOTWITHSTANDING the obvious 
 ^ fact that few among the mill operatives 
 attended upon Mr. Hardy's stated minis- 
 trations, he was not unknown to man}^ of 
 them. When, long subsequent to his settle- 
 ment over the parish in F , this great 
 
 factory had been erected and over three 
 thousand people added to the population of 
 the town, he had recognized the fact that, 
 while many of them attended the Roman 
 Catholic services that had been soon estab- 
 lished, yet there were many who did not, 
 and cared for no religious services. With- 
 out the expectation of drawing any to his 
 
 congregation, he, in his abundant charity, 
 
 i8s 
 
1 86 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 believed it his duty to do what he could for 
 them, whenever and wherever he could. 
 
 If men would not hear him preach, they 
 at least found that he bore them no ill will 
 for it, and was equally to be relied upon in 
 their times of sickness and distress. So it 
 came about that he was often among them, 
 and, though his stiff, old-fashioned speech 
 and manner afforded them more or less 
 amusement, they had a real liking and es- 
 teem for the kind-hearted minister. 
 
 Avoiding any special discussion with 
 them of the merits of their strike, he had, 
 since it began, been unremitting in his 
 attention to the sick and needy, and ear- 
 nestly stimulated the charitable societies of 
 his church to active efforts among all, of 
 whatever nationality or belief. Quite in- 
 different to the value of money when his 
 sympathies were aroused, he gave away all 
 he had, which, indeed, was little enough, 
 
Mr. Ha7'dy. 187 
 
 and showed not the slightest false delicacy 
 in accepting everything obtainable, from any 
 source, for this object ; while the greatest 
 part of his time was spent in the dispensa- 
 tion of general aid and comfort. 
 
 He preached charity to that extent that 
 some of the more advanced theologians 
 among his own people were fairly famish- 
 inof for one of his old doctrinal sermons ; 
 and one deacon, of particularly rigid views, 
 was heard to say that the parson ought to 
 remember that charity began at home, and 
 that the souls of the brethren needed food 
 as well as the bodies of the unbelievers. 
 
 Mr. Hardy stepped into a grocery, dry 
 goods, and hardware store on Main Street, 
 one morning, and requested the proprietor 
 to send around a few indispensables to a 
 house where he had just found a sick man 
 in need. 
 
 "Where is it you say he lives, Mr. 
 
1 88 The Strike in the B Mill 
 
 Hardy ? " asked that worthy, who, in his 
 shirt-sleeves, was sitting on his counter, and 
 surveying the world through the store door, 
 with a rather jaundiced eye. 
 
 " It is the last house but one in Mill Alley, 
 on the right, Mr. Jones, and the man's name 
 is John O'Flaherty. He will be easily 
 found." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! he's a striker," said the mer- 
 chant. " It's of no use, Mr. Hardy ; they 
 wouldn't take the thinc^s if I sent them. 
 They're afraid to, for I am bojxotted, you 
 know." 
 
 " Ah — yes — yes — so you are — too 
 bad, too bad," said the minister. " Well," 
 he continued, " you can do them up, and I 
 will presently deliver them myself." 
 
 " How is the world using you generally, 
 my friend ? " asked Mr. Hardy, as the mer- 
 chant proceeded to tie up the parcels. 
 
 " Only so so, parson. What with the 
 
Mr. Hardy. 
 
 poor trade of summer and this blessed 
 strike, things ain't going so well with me as 
 they might." 
 
 "So I feared — so I feared," said Mr. 
 Hardy, sympathetically. " But matters are 
 not so bad with us as with these poor 
 people, you know." 
 
 " I don't know that, sir," said the other ; 
 "I'm not sure but I'll have to stop soon. 
 And I have a family to support, too, and not 
 a cent saved." 
 
 " You do not mean that, I trust, my good 
 sir?" said the minister. "I should be in- 
 deed grieved that you should meet with 
 misfortune.- You have been an honest man 
 who gives just weight, and such should not 
 be suffered to come to want." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Hardy, it's just here, you 
 see. I've always been good to these mill 
 folks, and trusted them, and everything like 
 that, and I've lost a good deal that way, first 
 
190 The Strike in the B AlilL 
 
 and last. I was in debt pretty bad; and 
 now they up and boycott me, because I 
 sold to the superintendent and to the folks 
 they call ' scabs.' And, w^hile their trade 
 ain't much now, it was a good deal I lost at 
 first; and I ma}^ have to go under directly." 
 
 The minister looked grave. " This boy- 
 cott is a very objectionable thing, Mr. 
 Jones. I can, indeed, find no justification 
 for it." 
 
 " Yes," continued the man, with increas- 
 ing warmth, as he reviewed his misfor- 
 tunes ; '^ they ordered me to sell no more to 
 them people, and I told them to go to hell. 
 Excuse me, Mr. Hardy, — but Fm an Amer- 
 ican citizen, and no man shall dictate 
 to me." 
 
 " I sincerely regret," said the minister, 
 seriously, " that you should have given way 
 to profanity, my good friend. But," he 
 added, looking at the counter reflectively, 
 
Mr, Hardy, 191 
 
 — " so you are, certainly, an American citi- 
 zen — ver}^ true — very true." 
 
 " Mr. Hardy," the store-keeper went on, 
 " there are other people who have hard 
 times as well as those who call themselves 
 laboring men; and others who work just as 
 hard as they, for precious little more profit, 
 and have a darned sight more to worry 
 them besides." 
 
 The minister considered a moment. ^' I 
 am persuaded," he at length said, " that you 
 are right there, Mr. Jones, — quite right. I 
 work hard myself, very hard sometimes, 
 and for but a moderate stipend — hardly 
 adequate, sometimes, to meet the calls upon 
 it," continued Mr. Hardy, thinking of his 
 meagre salary, so hard to collect. " I think 
 you but express a great truth in what you 
 say," he added, decisively. 
 
 " Now," continued Mr. Jones, earnestly, 
 ^'here they are — staying on strike, as every- 
 
192 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 bod}' knows, for nothing at all, and drinking 
 and boycotting round, and starving them- 
 selves and everybody else. I think this 
 * Associates of Toil ' business is the mean- 
 est, wickedest thing going!" Mr. Jones had 
 finished tying up the parcels for some time, 
 and he was now pacing back and forth 
 within the circumscribed limits of his coun- 
 ter, like a panther in its cage, and his face 
 was red and excited. 
 
 Mr. Hardy was leaning against a barrel, 
 with his umbrella under his arm, when, at 
 this moment, glancing through the store 
 to the street, he caught sight of John 
 Vance, with two or three others, passing 
 on the opposite side of the way. He had 
 known Vance for some time, had often seen 
 him at his church with his wife, and took a 
 good deal of interest in the bright, manly 
 young machinist. He hastily gathered his 
 bundles from the counter, took a firmer grip 
 
Mr, Hardy. 193 
 
 with his arm upon the umbrella, and saying, 
 hastily, " I beg you to excuse me, my dear 
 sir," hurried out of the store and across the 
 street. 
 
 " Mr. Vance," he said, as he overtook the 
 men, " can I speak with you a moment?" 
 Early in the day as it was, it was evident, 
 from his face and manner, that Vance had 
 been drinking, but he stopped at once as 
 the clergyman addressed him. The men 
 with him also stopped and stood by him. 
 
 " Go ahead there ! " said Vance to them, 
 roughly; "you're not wanted." And, with 
 a stare at Mr. Hardy, they went on. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Vance," said the minister, 
 taking no notice of his condition, and offer- 
 ing his hand, " I wanted to see you, so you 
 will excuse my stopping you. Will you 
 not walk on with me a little way?" he 
 added. 
 
 Vance, suppressing as far as possible any 
 
194 T^^^ Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 signs of his potations, nodded assent, and, 
 looking a little askance at Mr. Hardy, 
 walked slowly by his side. 
 
 " I fear things are going a little wrong 
 with 3^ou, my dear sir," said the minister, 
 after they had gone a few steps. " I feel a 
 great interest in you," he continued, " and 
 in your family, and would like to help you, 
 if I could." 
 
 " I know of nothing you can do, Mr. 
 Hardy," said Vance, rather sullenly. 
 
 "Perhaps not — perhaps not," said the 
 minister, "but I should like to be of use, if 
 I could. Would you mind," he added, 
 after a pause, " my saying that perhaps 3^ou 
 are not taking very good care of yourself 
 just now? It worries your wife a good 
 deal, you know." 
 
 " Mr. Hardy," said Vance, stopping short, 
 " I know that. But what would you do, if 
 you wanted to work and couldn't, and saw 
 
Mr, Hardy. 195 
 
 everything going to the devil? I oughtn't 
 to go on as I'm doing; but I might as well 
 be drunk as lying on my back doing noth- 
 ing, for all the good I am to any one." 
 
 "No, no!" said Mr. Hardy, earnestly. 
 " You are very wrong there. A man gains 
 nothing by giving up his self-respect and 
 making his family unhappy." 
 
 The minister laid his hand on the other's 
 arm as he spoke, and looked kindly in his 
 face through his glasses. 
 
 " I'm not going to criticise you and the 
 others for staying on strike — that you must 
 judge of for yourselves. But, if it involves 
 some hardship for your families, I do know 
 that you have no right to add to it by 
 giving way to — to — " the minister hesi- 
 tated, " well, this sort of thing, you know^," 
 he finally said. 
 
 Vance stood still, looking soberly on the 
 ground. He knew Mr. Hardy well, and felt 
 
196 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 no resentment at his words, whose truth he 
 fully admitted to himself. 
 
 " Come up to my house this afternoon, 
 Mr. Vance," continued the minister, kindly, 
 " and borrow some of my books. They say 
 you have a fine talent as a machinist, and I 
 have some works on that subject that will 
 interest you; and you have now leisure in 
 which to read them. We will help to keep 
 your pot boiling, meanwhile. 
 
 '^ Thank you, Mr. Hardy," said Vance, 
 gratefully; "I will come and get them. 
 You are a good man, sir, and I thank you 
 for saying what you have to me," he added, 
 as Mr. Hardy, content with the effect of his 
 words, shook him heartily by the hand and 
 bade him good-bye. 
 
 Vance stood where the minister left him, 
 and thoughtfully watched his quaint, faded 
 black figure, with its slight stoop, going 
 down the street. He saw him accosted by 
 
M7\ Hardy. 197 
 
 the Catholic priest, a few doors away, who 
 walked on with him, talking earnestly, and 
 he knew that the two good men were con- 
 certing as to how the want and suffering 
 about them could be best alleviated. He 
 thought of these idle weeks and groaned, as 
 often before, at the utter hopelessness of the 
 prospect ahead. Then Mr. Hardy's words 
 again came to him, and he thought of the 
 wretched use he had made of his idleness. 
 The sad face of his wife, so often now turn- 
 ing from him to hide its tears, came before 
 him, and those of his little children, that 
 looked into his own with such uncon- 
 sciousness of evil and confidence in his 
 goodness; and with almost a sob he turned 
 and walked slowly homeward. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FATE OF THE REACTION. 
 
 nnHE superintendent's doubt expressed 
 to Alston, as to the adherence of the 
 men to their resolution of returning, was 
 well founded. It quickly got about among 
 the strikers that afternoon that a number 
 had promised to go to work in the morning, 
 and the leaders, the executive committee 
 and their following, saw that unless they 
 acted with energy there would result a 
 general stampede of the main body, the 
 strike would be practically over, and their 
 power and influence ended. A meeting of 
 the " Associates of Toil " was immediately 
 called for that evening, and they used every 
 effort of persuasion, and almost threats, to 
 198 
 
Fate of the Reaction, 199 
 
 secure its being well attended, urging that 
 important business was to be transacted. 
 
 Darragh was away from the town, and 
 these men had entire control of affairs. 
 
 When the hour arrived the hall was 
 packed. There was considerable sup- 
 pressed excitement among the members, 
 and loud talk was heard here and there. 
 
 The committee-man Bradford addressed 
 the meeting. He said that there was a 
 rumor that some of the members proposed 
 to ffo back to work on the next day. The 
 names of several had even been repeated to 
 him; but he didn't believe it. He couldn't 
 think that any would be traitors to the 
 noble order to which they had pledged 
 themselves, and go back on their brothers 
 in this way. He hoped there wasn't any 
 truth in the report. He didn't believe there 
 was a man in the hall who would do such 
 a thing. He paused and looked over the 
 
200 The Sti'ike in the B Mill, 
 
 audience and into the faces of many men, 
 whom he perfectly well knew wanted noth- 
 ing else half so much as to do just this 
 thing if they dared. He concluded b}^ say- 
 ing that, though he believed nothing of it 
 himself, if any brother did know of such a 
 matter, he had better get up and state the 
 facts. 
 
 To this invitation no one, at first, re- 
 sponded, but, after an interval of suspense, 
 a man jumped upon the platform. 
 
 " I know," he said, " that Lane, McDon- 
 ald, Jake McCarty, Brooks, and a lot more 
 that I can name, went to the mill and talked 
 with old Malcolm to-day. That I know. 
 Perhaps," he added, " they'll be knowing 
 best themselves what they had to say to 
 him. That's all." 
 
 A low murmur arose from different parts 
 of the crowd. One of the men named 
 stood in the middle of the room. " Speak 
 
Fate of the Reactiofi. 201 
 
 up, Lane! " shouted a man, pointing to him. 
 " Tell us what you had to say in the mill." 
 
 Lane looked at his interlocutor and 
 caught the cruel glitter in his eye, and 
 then glanced here and there among the 
 others. He was cowed. Feelinof sure that 
 more than half the men present sympa- 
 thized with what he had done, he dared not 
 avow it. From no one did he meet a look 
 of encouragement, and there was nothing 
 left him but denial. So he put on a blus- 
 tering air and exclaimed: — 
 
 " I done nothinof that I'm to be took to 
 task for. We only went in to ask when 
 they was going to send off them scabs." 
 
 Every man in the hall heard him, and all 
 knew that he lied. But the leaders were 
 satisfied. Their object was attained; for 
 the doubtful had not dared to speak, and it 
 was plainly demonstrated that, at present, 
 at least, no man could stand up and defy 
 
202 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 the decrees of the order. They contented 
 themselves with gently admonishing the 
 brethren generally, and Brother Lane and 
 his party in particular, to the effect that 
 such zeal was a little misplaced and that 
 communication w^ith the oppressor could be 
 best had through the constituted authorities 
 of the order. 
 
 Everything now went very smoothly. 
 Other speeches were made, exhorting the 
 "Associates" to stand firm, and assuring 
 them that the other side would surely back 
 down. Many weeks had passed, it was 
 true, but the mill could not hold out for- 
 ever; that more assistance had been voted 
 them, and would soon be received. 
 
 An eloquent visiting brother, high in the 
 confidence of the order, was introduced, 
 and made an exceedingly neat address. 
 He was glad to be with them, he said, and 
 to congratulate them on their noble and 
 
Fate of the Reaction. 203 
 
 long-sustained contest for the permanence 
 and welfare of the order. This was no 
 sordid fight for a few dollars more or less. 
 
 Not at all! They stood in F for a 
 
 great, undying principle, and they would 
 win in the fight, — it was a mere matter 
 of time; the God of battles would sustain 
 them and give them the victory. He de- 
 picted in glowing periods the might and 
 growth of the order throughout this great 
 land, and closed with a stirring peroration, 
 in which that soulless entity, Capital, was 
 pictured as cowering helpless before the 
 serried cohorts of triumphant Labor. 
 
 Some of the audience could not quite 
 see the use of it all, or trace the exact 
 connection of things, but it certainly was 
 very fine; and when a personal admirer 
 of the brilliant orator, who had received 
 his cue, moved that the finance committee 
 be authorized to pay twenty-five dollars 
 
204 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 from the funds in their hands towards de- 
 fraying the brother's travelling expenses, it 
 was voted at once, in spite of the starving 
 families who needed the money. 
 
 The anarchist Kohler finally climbed 
 upon the platform and, with a greasy smile, 
 went on with some of his characteristic 
 drivel, that, to do the audience justice, 
 proved sufficiently offensive to start a 
 movement for the door. 
 
 This meeting ended the break among the 
 strikers for the time. Those who had not 
 been present heard of the proceedings, and 
 all were intimidated. No ^^ Associates of 
 Toil " appeared at the mill on the following 
 morning. 
 
 Mr. Malcolm, whose patience was about 
 exhausted, wrote a line to Alston in which 
 he suggested that they had now borne with 
 the senseless obstinacy of these people long 
 enough, and it was high time that energetic 
 
Fate of the Reaction. 205 
 
 steps be taken to secure help and work the 
 mill to its full capacity, in the interest of 
 the stockholders. Alston, on receiving this 
 note, was seriously perplexed. He felt that 
 Mr. Malcolm was, in a sense, right, and yet 
 he had hoped so long that the operatives 
 would return, and take the wages they so 
 sorely needed, that he could not bear to see 
 that done that would absolutely shut them 
 out. 
 
 He stood, with Mr. Malcolm's letter in 
 his hand, leaning against the mantel-piece, 
 and looking down at his wife with such a 
 sombre face that she asked, quickly: — 
 
 " Why, Ned, dear, what is it that troubles 
 you so ? " 
 
 " Ada," he replied, '' I never was so 
 bothered before i.n my life ! " 
 
 '' It's about things in F , I suppose," 
 
 she said. 
 
 " Yes, I had hoped they were beginning 
 
2o6 The St7^ike in the B MilL 
 
 to settle themselves, as I told you; but 
 Malcolm writes that the movement to re- 
 turn was nipped, and there the thing is, — 
 going on as badly as ever. Malcolm now 
 insists that we have no rio^ht to hold thing^s 
 open for the strikers any longer, in justice 
 to the stockholders. I am willing to wait 
 much longer, as far as otw interests go, and 
 you know they are large." 
 
 "Yes," she said; "we both have a good 
 many shares. But we neither of us care, 
 if there's a chance of the people coming 
 back." 
 
 " That's what we want, darling, of 
 course," returned her husband, " but there 
 are a good many stockholders who 
 mightn't feel as we do about this, and 
 some, perhaps, who can't afford to. I am 
 really afraid that I may not be properly bal- 
 ancing my now rather conflicting duties, 
 — to the stockholders, on one side, and 
 
Fate of the Reaction, 207 
 
 these operatives, on the other. Regarded 
 strictly as a dtity^ the latter is getting rather 
 shadowy, to say the least. Malcolm has 
 felt for some time that he ought to make 
 more effort to get outside help, but I have 
 over-persuaded him, — told him they would 
 be back directly, and all that, — so he has 
 continued to take only those that offered, 
 as from the beginning, he was of course, 
 bound to do. Now he insists, and, I con- 
 fess, I am in great doubt." 
 
 '' Ned," said his wife, " do not desert the 
 cause of these poor, mistaken people quite 
 yet. Think," she added, gently, "of the 
 long, hard winter before them. Surely they 
 must see their error very soon. After all 
 your interest in them, wait yet a little lon- 
 ger. Think of their poor little children, 
 Ned." 
 
 As the young wife said this, she arose, 
 in her earnestness, and passed her hand 
 
2o8 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 through her husband's arm, looking up into 
 his face with pleading, beautiful eyes. Als- 
 ton gave her a loving look, and stroked the 
 little hand resting on his armj but he did 
 not speak. 
 
 " Ned," continued his wife, " if you can- 
 not decide, or if you think that Mr. Mal- 
 colm is not inclined to do as we wish, why 
 do you not go over and talk with Mr. 
 Phillips?" 
 
 Alston's face brightened. " That is a 
 good idea; I should be willing to trust my 
 judgment, if he stood by it." 
 
 " Yes, Ned," said his wafe, gravely, " I 
 think he is a man of most excellent judg- 
 ment." 
 
 " Why, dear, how can you judge ? you 
 have only met him once or twice." 
 
 " Well, he has impressed me very^ very 
 favorably," she insisted, with an air of pro- 
 found conviction; '^ and I am not often 
 
Fate of the Reaction, 209 
 
 deceived in people — see how quickly and 
 justly he estimated you^ Ned," she added, 
 looking thoughtfully in the fire. 
 
 Alston turned his head a little to hide a 
 smile. "I will go round to the club," he 
 said, "and see if I can get his estimate of 
 this question. I rather agree with you 
 about Mr. Phillips," he added, "though 
 possibly on different grounds." 
 
 The president was just finishing a third 
 rubber when Alston looked in at the club. 
 They went into another room, and he 
 listened to Alston's statement of the posi- 
 tion of matters and his doubts as to the 
 present duty of the company, with his cus- 
 tomary patient and rather bored manner. 
 
 " Been going on now nearly six weeks," 
 he remarked, parenthetically, when Alston 
 was quite through. 
 
 " Yes," answered Alston. 
 
 " Should hardly say," continued Mr. 
 
2IO The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 Phillips, after a long pause, during which 
 he scratched his cheek reflectively, that a 
 week or two longer could ruin us. If you 
 hurry too much it might ruin a good many 
 of them." 
 
 "Thafs it exactly," replied Alston; "that 
 is just what I feel." 
 
 " WouldnH hurry, then," said the presi- 
 dent. " They'll come back presently; sick 
 of their nonsense now, no doubt, but takes 
 time to screw up their courage." Mr. 
 Phillips looked through the door-w^ay to- 
 ward the whist-table, and begged to know 
 if Mrs. Alston were quite well. 
 
 " If Malcolm is a little rusty," Alston 
 asked, as they parted, "or Hartw^ell comes 
 bothering round, — he's been rather fussy 
 lately, by the way, about the slow way the 
 mill is filling up, — I may use your name in 
 support of my views, may I not?" 
 
 " To any extent," replied the president. 
 
Fate of the Reaction. 211 
 
 " I told you, Ned, that it was quite im- 
 possible for me to be deceived in a person 
 whom I had once seen," remarked Mrs. 
 Alston, decisively, when her husband had 
 described his interview with Mr. Phillips. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AMONG THE PEOPLE. 
 
 T^HE wife of John Vance had been 
 much alone during the weeks- of the 
 strike. Though without occupation, her 
 husband had been rarely at home except at 
 meal times, and not always then. The fatal 
 habit of drink had been fastening itself 
 upon him, and he had at length become 
 apparently quite indifferent to the fate of 
 his family or himself. His wages were 
 soon gone and their other means had been 
 for some time exhausted. 
 
 When he came home after meeting Mr. 
 Hardy, his wife noticed that he seemed 
 quite sober, and his face looked grave 
 and sad. He threw himself into a chair 
 and leaned his head upon his hand. 
 
Among' the People, 213 
 
 "Well, John, what is the prospect?" said 
 his wife, pleasantly. 
 
 " There is no prospect," he said, dully. 
 " The mill is gradually filling up with out- 
 siders, though slowly, and, unless these 
 roughs scare them off, we shall ourselves 
 have to go away and get work else- 
 where." 
 
 "Why don't 3^ou let the 'Associates' go," 
 said his wife, " and go back to your place in 
 the shop? You can't get another such 
 good place, and why will you lose it for 
 the orders of Patrick Murphy? " 
 
 "1 don't dare to do it — that's the plain 
 truth about it, Mary. I've tried it once and 
 dropped it. You don't know the tyranny 
 of this thing. I and a great many others — 
 the most of us, I believe — wanted to do 
 as Darragh said. You know how it was; 
 we'd been workinor alons^ with those non- 
 union men before, and we didn't see why 
 
214 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 we couldn't again. But Murphy and Brad- 
 ford, and their set, crowded into the meet- 
 ing, and huggermuggered and frightened 
 the vote through, and that settled it. You 
 know all about it. The roughs all hang 
 together, and the good men don't know 
 whom to trust, and dare not speak out; we 
 tried the other day, but gave it up. I wish 
 to God," he added, gloomily, " the ' Asso- 
 ciates of Toil ' had never been got up. It'll 
 be the ruin of us all, yet." 
 
 " Why," asked his wife, " do these kind 
 of men get so much power in the order? 
 Why do you make them the committee?" 
 
 "Well, I don't know, exactly; but, some- 
 how, the bummers always seem to figure to 
 get the control in these things. The quiet 
 men, the good workmen, never seem to 
 have the time to get elected to office. And 
 when these men get in, they manage to 
 hold on. It's something like politics, 
 
Among the People, 215 
 
 where about the same thing happens, I 
 should think." 
 
 " You'd be treated as a scab, John, if you 
 should go to work, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes, and worse. I should have to leave 
 here if I want to get to work again. If I 
 could get a little money to move us, I 
 would cut the whole concern, give up my 
 trade, and try and hire a little farm some- 
 where. I used to think that the ' Associates 
 of Toil' was a big thing; but now, I 
 only want to get out of its reach as far 
 as I can ! " 
 
 As he spoke, his wife came to him and 
 put her hand on his shoulder. "John," she 
 said, " I always wished that you would 
 come and live in my place. Let's go down 
 
 to N , to father's farm. It's a good 
 
 time now, and he'll be glad to send us a 
 little money to bring us, and have you help 
 him. Then you can see what you want to 
 
2i6 The SU'ike in the B AlilL 
 
 do up there. You can work a little farm 
 on the mountain, or leave us with father 
 and log it this winter, and decide later. 
 Now do^ John. Let me write father to- 
 day. I always disliked this life, and I hate 
 it worse than ever now." 
 
 He thought a moment or two, with his 
 eyes fixed on the floor. 
 
 "Well, write!" he said, at last. "We 
 can try it. I'm tired of this thing, anyhow. 
 I want to be my own man again. You 
 write, Mary, and I'll post the letter to- 
 day." 
 
 "I will," his wife said, joyfully; "right 
 off now." And, clearing the table, she, 
 after much trouble to find writing materials, 
 seated herself to the task. 
 
 Her husband seemed to think it occupied 
 much time, for he smoked a pipe out and 
 walked about the room with the nervous 
 impatience of one who has but lately been 
 
Among" the People, 217 
 
 drinking hard and begins to feel the physi- 
 cal reaction. 
 
 "You must be writing a long one, Mary," 
 he at last said, stopping in front of her. 
 
 "Well, it's done, at last," she answered; 
 and, folding and directing the letter, she 
 gave it to him. " Now," she continued, 
 " we shall have an answer within a week, 
 and then we'll go. I'll be all ready to start. 
 Stay of the same mind, whatever happens; 
 won't you, John? And John, — " she hesi- 
 tated a little, " dear John, don't keep on 
 drinking. You don't know how unhappy 
 that's made me, with the strike and all; — 
 and now, our deciding this makes me 
 happier to-night than I've been since we 
 were married. Just think how the chil- 
 dren will like the country. And we'll all 
 be happier and better off." She reached up 
 and kissed him, with a tear in her eye. He 
 bent down and returned her kiss, then 
 
2i8 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 straightened his tall figure, and a look of 
 resolution came into his handsome face. 
 
 " I have been a brute, Mary," he said; 
 ^' but, after the first day or two of the strike, 
 I saw how things were going, and drank 
 hard because I felt bad about it: — and I 
 didn^'t want to say anything to you about 
 things because I was angry and ashamed of 
 the whole business." His wife pressed his 
 arm sympathetically. 
 
 " I know, John," she said — "I under- 
 stood how you felt; but it wasn't quite the 
 way to help things, you know." 
 
 " No, Mary, it wasn't, and I knew it. 
 Mr. Hardy came along and spoke to me 
 this morning, and it sent me home almost 
 crying, Mary. My mind is made up — 
 you've decided on the right thing. And if 
 the strike ended to-morrow, we'll stick to 
 this plan just the same." 
 
 " I must have a nipper or two this morn- 
 
Among the People, 2i< 
 
 ing," he continued, " for see how my hand 
 trembles; but I'll come home all right, never 
 fear. After to-day, not a drop. To-morrow 
 we'll get ready to pull up and go." 
 
 Mary Vance looked a little anxious, but 
 concealed it, like a sensible little woman; 
 for she knew her husband's easy-going 
 nature contained an element of strong reso- 
 lution that asserted itself at times, and she 
 believed it had now possessed him. So she 
 let him go with a smiling injunction to be 
 home punctually to dinner — " though it 
 isn't much we have," she said, with another 
 smile; her happiness at the future now open- 
 ing again so brightly, making her careless 
 of the present hardships of their situa- 
 tion. 
 
 As her husband went down the stairs, she 
 went quickly to the other room, where the 
 children were playing, and, stooping, seized 
 them both in her arms with an energy that 
 
2 20 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 rather startled them; murmuring, as she 
 kissed them again and again, " Papa will 
 pretty soon take you away to such a nice 
 place, darlings; and we'll be so much hap- 
 pier, all of us." 
 
 In an upstairs tenement of a large old 
 wooden house on one of the narrowest and 
 
 most thickly inhabited streets in F a 
 
 woman was lying ill. 
 
 The house was full of people; families 
 occupying two or three rooms, and the hall- 
 ways being used in common. 
 
 The two rooms in one of which was the 
 sick woman were uncarpeted and but scant- 
 ily furnished; the room in which she laid 
 containing little else than the bed and a 
 chair or two. 
 
 The sick woman was alone. Her face 
 was flushed with fever, and she tossed from 
 side to side, moaning feebly at intervals. 
 
Among the People. 221 
 
 On a stand by the bed was water and a 
 vial of medicine. 
 
 The room would have been utterly forlorn 
 and gloomy but for the rays of the sun that, 
 shining brightly over the fields and woods 
 outside of the village, did not refuse their 
 kindly radiance within it, and shone pleas- 
 antly through the uncurtained window and 
 across the foot of the bed. 
 
 "Will they never come?" murmured the 
 woman, as her restlessness increased, and 
 her thin hand, thrown from the covering, 
 picked nervously at the blanket. "Will 
 they never come?" she repeated. 
 
 At this moment a little girl came in from 
 the outer room. An old shawl held about 
 her head fell over and partly concealed her 
 shabby dress, while her poor little bare feet 
 showed in places through her worn shoes. 
 
 "Is that you, Annie?" asked the woman, 
 faintly. 
 
22 2 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 The child came to the bedside. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " An' the priest 
 said he'd cotne directly to see you. Have 
 some water, mammy?" 
 
 The woman shook her head, and the girl 
 pulled off her shawl, and, drawing a chair 
 near to the bed, seated herself, and watched 
 her mother with the grave, steady look of a 
 child. 
 
 "Where's the father, Annie, and Johnny?" 
 asked her mother, after a while. 
 
 " They're out on the street somewheres," 
 answered the child. " Will I go to find 
 'em?" 
 
 "No matter," said the woman; "what 
 good would it do ? — but why don't Father 
 Shannon come? " 
 
 " Will I go down to the dure and watch 
 for 'im ? " asked the child again, with the same 
 mechanical readiness to be of use, and still 
 watching her mother with her quiet gaze. 
 
Among the People. 223 
 
 " No," said the woman, striking her hand 
 with feeble motion on the side of the bed. 
 
 " There's some one," said the girl, as a 
 light knock sounded on the outer door. 
 "Will I see who it is?" 
 ^ " Yes — maybe it's the priest." 
 
 The child went out, and returned presently 
 with one whom the sick woman regarded 
 with a disappointed look. 
 
 " I hope you will excuse me for coming 
 in," said Ellen Hardy, for it was she; " but 
 they told me downstairs that some one was 
 sick here, and your little girl has let me in. 
 I want to do something for you if you will 
 let me." 
 
 " Give the lady a chair, Annie," said the 
 sick woman, with an instinctive courtesy 
 that overcame her sense of suffering. " It's 
 little you can do, ma'am, thanking you 
 kindly," she went on, with a weak voice. 
 " I'm fearful that I'm struck with death." 
 
2 24 ^'^^^ Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 " I hope it is not as bad as that," said 
 Ellen, gently. " When was the doctor here, 
 Annie ?|" she asked the little girl, who stood 
 looking in her face with frank admiration. 
 
 '^ Not since yisterday morning, ma'am," 
 answered the child. '^ We'd no money to 
 pay," she added, dr3dy, with that entire com- 
 prehension of the family trials common in 
 children so situated, " and maybe he'll not 
 come again." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Ellen. "He is a good 
 man, and will not forget you." 
 
 She bent over the woman, who was now 
 more quiet, and, with the little girl's assist- 
 ance, adjusted the pillows more comfortably; 
 and, wetting a linen cloth, laid it upon the 
 sick woman's forehead. 
 
 While she was busy taking some things 
 from her basket, and questioning the child 
 as to what her mother needed, she became 
 aware of the presence of another person, and, 
 
Among the People, 225 
 
 looking up, saw that Father Shannon stood 
 in the door-way. 
 
 He was a clear-eyed, benevolent-looking 
 man, with the usual smoothly shaven face 
 of his profession. 
 
 " I knocked, but no one heard," he said, 
 politely, " so I ventured to enter unan- 
 nounced. I hope I do not intrude. Miss 
 Hardy?" 
 
 "No, sir," she replied, rising; "I am the 
 intruder, if it be anyone. I think you will 
 be very welcome to our poor friend here." 
 
 The clergyman bowed and approached 
 the bedside. 
 
 " Good-morning, my daughter," he said, 
 taking the sick woman's hand. " You sent 
 for me. Are 3^ou very ill ? " 
 
 Ellen took the little girl's hand, and they 
 went into the next room, where she gave 
 her some directions as to her mother's care, 
 and, leaving her a little money, she promised 
 
226 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 to come on the following day. " You are a 
 very little nurse, to be sure, but you must 
 do the best you can," she said, cheerily, as 
 she went away. 
 
 On the steps of the house were several 
 men, smoking and talking, who respectfully 
 made v^ay for her. The narrow street, 
 lined with tenement houses, was alive with 
 people. The men sat in the door-ways or 
 leaned from the open windows in their 
 shirt-sleeves, though the November air 
 was keen, while those women not busy 
 indoors stood about gossiping in low voices, 
 unlike their ordinary hearty clamor. All 
 were idle, and looked unhappy and dis- 
 contented. Signs of want w^ere every- 
 where visible, and not a few adult faces 
 looked pinched and hungry. 
 
 Sadder than all else was the unusual 
 quiet of the children that were about in the 
 streets and yards, and Ellen's heart ached 
 
Among the People. 227 
 
 that these little irresponsible beings should 
 suffer from no fault of their own. That, by 
 the law of natural authority, they might 
 have to endure hunger, nay, even die of 
 want, because the parent so willed it,' with- 
 out being able to understand the reason why, 
 or having the power to help themselves. 
 
 Many knew Ellen as she passed, and 
 saluted her with grateful and affectionate 
 emphasis. With some she stopped and 
 spoke, and entered several other houses to 
 relieve particular distress of which she knew. 
 
 In this and other similar localities, she 
 had for many weeks spent the greater part 
 of her time, believing that she could herself 
 best and least offensively dispense the aid 
 at her command. 
 
 Her father, who was familiar with these 
 people of old, could not often accompany 
 her, their joint labors requiring effort in dif- 
 ferent directions to cover the ground. 
 
2 28 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 As Ellen reached the end of the little 
 street, on her way elsewhere, the familiar 
 carriage of the village doctor went by on 
 the main street. As the doctor bowed, 
 Ellen motioned to him, and he drew his 
 sulky to the sidewalk, and looked down on 
 her with his shrewd, weather-beaten face, 
 seamed with the wrinkles of years of night 
 work, and brown with constant exposure to 
 the elements. 
 
 " I hope you don't need my professional 
 services, Ellen ? " he said, with the kindly 
 familiarity of one who had officiated at her 
 birth and had known her ever since. " But 
 you don't look it, exactly," he continued; 
 " your missionary work seems to agree with 
 you." 
 
 "No, doctor," said Ellen; "but a poor 
 woman, in the last house on the left, whom 
 I just saw, is very sick, and they seemed to 
 fear you were not coming again." 
 
Among the People, 229 
 
 "That's just their ingratitude! " said the 
 doctor, sharply. " I told them I should be 
 in again to-day, and I sent that woman her 
 medicine, and paid for it myself! I am 
 very much driven, and have to get around 
 to them as I can." 
 
 *' I knew, of course," said Ellen, " that 
 you never deserted a patient. But don't 
 blame the woman. She said nothinof." 
 
 " Oh, I'm used to them," said the doctor, 
 easily, and with no trace of his momentary 
 irritation; "I've learned not to mind it. 
 Some of these folks are so suspicious that 
 the}^ cannot seem to understand that any 
 one can act disinterestedly. I'll see our 
 friend in an hour or two. Her case is not 
 
 urgent. 
 
 "Thanks, doctor," said Ellen; "I knew 
 that it was all right with you." 
 
 " Well, Ellen," said the doctor, gathering 
 up the reins, " I'm just driven to death. 
 
230 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 There's a great deal of sickness among 
 these people, as you know, arising largely 
 from insufficient nutrition, and I am sadl}' 
 overworked." 
 
 The doctor chirped to his horse, then 
 drew him up and leaned over towards Ellen 
 with a grim smile. " I wish," he said, 
 " these fellows would boycott me. That's 
 what I want. If they don't do it, I may 
 have to go on strike myself, to save my life. 
 Good-bye." And, loosening his rein, he 
 went rattling down the street. 
 
 Father Shannon, sitting by the bedside of 
 the sick w^oman, talked with her in his 
 gentle, encouraging voice. 
 
 "Father," said the woman, "I'm very 
 sick; I want the offices of the church." 
 
 He looked in her face, and felt her pulse. 
 He was so familiar with sickness, this good 
 friar, that he had acquired no mean skill in 
 judging of the condition of a patient. 
 
Among the People, 231 
 
 " Not yet, I think, my daughter," he said, 
 after a pause; "you are not as ill as 3^ou 
 imagine. We will have you well again, 
 with the help of the Blessed Virgin." 
 
 She was too weak to argue with him, 
 but, from her hopeless look and the impa- 
 tient motion of her hand on the bed-cover- 
 ing, it was evident that she did not believe 
 him. She remained silent a moment. 
 
 " Come to-morrow again," she at last 
 said; " I may need you then." 
 
 " I will come every day, my daughter, 
 and, meanwhile, I must send you some 
 comforts." 
 
 " Miss Hardy will take care of that," she 
 answered; " they say she never leaves one 
 when she's found they need her. Too 
 much must not come to one place," she 
 added, speaking with difficulty in her desire 
 for the good of others. " There's terrible 
 need all about, father; and there'll be more." 
 
232 The Strike ift the B Mill. 
 
 ''Yes — I know it," said he, sadly. ''The 
 church," he added, " does not approve of 
 this order that is making the trouble; and 
 the displeasure of the Holy See weighs on 
 my conscience for you all, even as I feel 
 your bodily sufferings." 
 
 "Ah, father," said the sick woman, in a 
 stronger voice, that trembled with excite- 
 ment, " I'd not like to say it to my man, but 
 this ' Associates ' is like to do us all out. 
 It's what's being the death of me; and the 
 childer starvin', too. Can't you talk to the 
 man. Father Shannon?" she added, with a 
 hysterical sob. 
 
 "There, you must not excite yourself, 
 my daughter. I have done what I could; 
 but the order seems stronger than the 
 church just now. I must not strain my 
 influence too far with my people, in a 
 matter not yet formally placed under the 
 ban." 
 
Ainong the People, 233 
 
 The clergyman rose. " I must go now," 
 he said; "may God's blessing be upon 3^ou, 
 my daughter. I will pray that he may soon 
 restore you. You shall want for nothing, 
 and I will see you to-morrow." 
 
. CHAPTER IX. 
 
 '' FIAT JUSTITIA," ETC. 
 
 TI)RAYTON called one morning at the 
 parsonage, just after breakfast, and told 
 Ellen that he was coming presently to take 
 her to the farm to spend the day with his 
 mother. 
 
 "You must have a day off," he said. 
 "You are spending so much time in this 
 charitable work that it will begin to wear 
 upon you, if you do not have a rest." 
 
 "Come," he insisted, as she demurred; 
 " get some one to take charge of your pa- 
 tients, as the doctors do, and let me have 
 my way." 
 
 " Where are you going now, George ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 "Just down to the police station a mo- 
 234 
 
''Fiat Just iti a,'' Etc. 235 
 
 ment," he answered; '' then I will drive you 
 out and come back, as I wish to be present 
 later at the trial of three or four scamps, 
 who hustled a man at the depot yesterday." 
 
 "Well," she said, "if you will drop one 
 or two things for me down street, I can 
 perhaps manage to go, — for I would like 
 to, George," she added, with a smile. 
 
 "All right," he replied; "I can do it. 
 Are they ready now ? " 
 
 "In a moment!" When she gave them 
 to him, it was with such voluminous direc- 
 tions that he said he really wished she 
 would send a boy along to do his thinking 
 for him. 
 
 He succeeded fairly well, however, and 
 was back in a' few minutes; and his fast 
 trotting mare took Ellen very quickly to the 
 farm, which she reached with the color in 
 her cheeks deepened and eyes brightened 
 by the rapid motion through the frosty air. 
 
236 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 When, a little later, Brayton reached the 
 room where the trial justice held his court, 
 he was obliged to elbow his way through a 
 considerable crowd, composed mainly of 
 striking mill operatives, some of whom 
 scowled at him as he passed, — for the 
 more turbulent among them were beginning 
 to find that he was the mainspring of the 
 strong police supervision of their move- 
 ments, and the repeated arrest and punish- 
 ment of those caught in mischief. 
 
 As he pushed forward, his strong shoul- 
 der impinged with considerable force 
 against a softer but heavier body than his 
 own, and a guttural German execration ap- 
 prised him of the presence of the Anarchist, 
 who looked around at him with a snarl. 
 
 " Ach — damnable Capitalist! Tyrant!" 
 said the fellow. " Of yourself have a 
 care ! " 
 
 Brayton brought his hand down squarely 
 
"Fiat Justitia,^' Etc. 237 
 
 on the fat shoulder before him, and with a 
 quiet but powerful twist turned his man 
 completely around, and, pointing to the 
 door, said: "Do you see that door? go out 
 of it — or I'll have you in the lock-up in 
 two minutes! " 
 
 The apostle of fire and blood looked at 
 him, and shuffled out of the room. 
 
 Brayton spoke to the chief of his police, 
 who was in the room. " It is high time," 
 he said, "that fellow was out of town. 
 Watch him with great care, and upon the 
 least occasion lock him up. He is getting 
 bold, and I shouldn't wonder if he was 
 hatching some mischief." 
 
 " Well, sir," returned the officer, " he is a 
 sly one. I've been watching him all along, 
 but can't get hold of anything. I think, 
 with you, that he and some others will be 
 up to something before long." 
 
 The evidence against the men on trial 
 
238 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 was conclusive, and the worthy justice, 
 though rather a plain man and not very 
 learned in the law, was not much obfus- 
 cated by the eloquent argument of the 
 young lawyer who appeared for the pris- 
 oners, and who had the misfortune of hav- 
 ing neither the law or the facts with him. 
 
 His appeals to the Bill of Rights, and 
 waving of the stars and stripes, in startling 
 metaphor, were unavailing, though highly 
 appreciated by the crowd, and the prison- 
 ers were found guilty and the court-room 
 cleared. 
 
 As Brayton was going down the steps, he 
 was joined by Alston, who had come over 
 from the mill to inquire into the cause of 
 the gathering of people. 
 
 " You seem to have a good many of 
 these affairs to look after," said he to Bray- 
 ton, as they shook hands. 
 
 "Yes," answered Brayton, "the cowardly 
 
''Fiat Jiistitia^^ Etc, 239 
 
 cruelty of some of these men is inconceiv- 
 able. If a man is a ' scab/ they seem to 
 think it the duty of the ^Associates of Toil' 
 to pound him, kick him in the face, and 
 stamp on him, six or eight against one. 
 It is a very bad organization, I think, Mr. 
 Alston." 
 
 " I'm afraid it is," replied Alston. 
 
 " See," said Bra3'ton, " those men over on 
 the corner watching us. They belong to 
 the gang that are the cause of the continu- 
 ance of this trouble. I venture to say that 
 not more than a hundred men are, in this 
 town to-da}^, keeping more than two thou- 
 sand people on the verge of starvation, 
 through the machinery of this wretched 
 order." 
 
 "Yes; it illustrates the danger of men 
 rushing unthinkingly into such combina- 
 tions," said Alston. "What is going to 
 bring this great majority to their senses, — 
 
240 The Strike in the B AlilL 
 
 emancipate them from their thraldom, and 
 let them go to work, as they wish?" 
 
 " I don't know," replied Brayton. " It 
 may come about in some very disagreeable 
 way, I'm afraid. Do you know, Mr. Als- 
 ton, that a dynamite cartridge was found 
 under the wall of the south tenement last 
 night ! The fuse had gone out, or there 
 miofht have been a hole made in the 
 building." 
 
 "The superintendent told me of it this 
 nfiorning," said Alston. " What shall you 
 do about it? " 
 
 "We have arranged to picket the place 
 hereafter so carefully," said Brayton, " that 
 a rat cannot get there, night or day, without 
 being seen. Say nothing of it," he added, 
 " as it is not well to alarm people too 
 much." 
 
 Brayton was untying his mare from the 
 post to which she was hitched. 
 
^'Fiat Jusiitia^^ Etc, 241 
 
 " Will you take me," asked Alston, " as 
 far as the top of the street with you." 
 
 "Certainly; get right in." 
 
 " That is a very pretty stepper," said 
 Alston, admiring Brayton's horse. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "she can easily 
 beat 2:30, though she has not been on a 
 track for some time. By the way," he went 
 on, " I looked over that saddle-horse of 
 yours, in the tavern stable, last week. I 
 think I never saw better quarters or finer 
 limbs on a horse of his size; he must be 
 much over your weight, I should think. 
 Can he jump ? " 
 
 "Jump! " exclaimed Alston. " If he was 
 feeling in the mood, I think he'd attempt 
 the church over there. Nothing seems to 
 daunt him. But he is hardly the animal I'd 
 like to lend our old friend Mr. Hardy to 
 take his exercise on. Ah!" he added, as 
 he saw Father Shannon on the sidewalk, 
 
242 The Stj'ike in the B JMilL 
 
 '' there's that excellent priest, and I \\^x\t to 
 see him a moment. Just drop me here, 
 will you; — thanks!" He jumped from the 
 carriao^e. " Good-morninor." 
 
 " Good-morning," said Brayton, as he 
 shook the reins and went swiftly home- 
 wards. 
 
 " Well, Father Shannon," said Alston, as 
 the clergyman approached him, " your rev- 
 erence is the second priest I've seen within 
 the hour. The black-coats seem to be 
 abroad this morning." 
 
 " We have much to keep us abroad these 
 days, Mr. Alston." 
 
 "Yes," Alston went on; "I saw Mr. 
 Hardy going down the street by the mill, a 
 while ago, with a philanthropic glitter in his 
 eye, evidently bent on doing good, in spite 
 of the flesh and the devil; and here you are 
 prowling around, with much the same 
 benevolent expression. Upon my word, 
 
''Fiat Jiistitia^'' Etc, 243 
 
 Father Shannon, I am learning better than 
 ever before what clergj^men are good for! 
 I have hitherto rather regarded them as 
 drones in the hive — like myself, for ex- 
 ample." 
 
 The priest smiled good-humoredly. "All 
 the drones, then," he said, " seem to have 
 been aroused, lately." 
 
 "How are the supplies holding out?" 
 asked Alston. "Don't you want some more 
 money? I can do little but aid you in that 
 way; but I can't see these blockheads 
 starve." 
 
 " You are very good, Mr. Alston — " 
 
 "Oh, bosh! " interrupted Alston. "I beg 
 your pardon — but I cannot forget that, if 
 it had not been for our niggardliness in the 
 first place, this strike would not have taken 
 place at all." 
 
 The sky had clouded, and it began to 
 sprinkle. Alston begged the priest to open 
 
244 "^^^^ Strike in the B JMilL 
 
 his umbrella, and let him share the sacerdo- 
 tal shelter, as he expressed it. 
 
 " You see/' he continued, as they went 
 together down the street, " I could hardly, 
 squeeze out quite as much money alone, but 
 I get some help, out of my friends, on 
 vague charitable pretexts. I am beginning 
 to be regarded among them as rather a 
 crank. Yesterday I actually wiggled a 
 fifty out of old Hartwell." 
 
 " From your treasurer, Mr. Alston ? " 
 
 " ^ The divil a less ' — saving your rever- 
 ence's presence. He is quite unaware of 
 my absurdities here, and the destination of 
 this money. I fear he would burst a blood- 
 vessel, if he knew of it." 
 
 " Is it quite right," asked the clergyman, 
 " that he should contribute in ignorance of 
 the object?" 
 
 "Well, I must leave that to you church 
 casuists to settle," said Alston, laughing. 
 
''Fiat Just it i a ^'' Etc, 245 
 
 '' I have somewhere heard the maxim, 
 ' Finis coi'onat opus^ and should say it 
 rather applied here." 
 
 " Come, Father Shannon," he added, 
 holding out a fifty-dollar bill, " let this, in 
 your hands, do as much good as possible, 
 and do not leave me to bear my sin alone. 
 
 The clergyman took the money thought- 
 fully. " Perhaps the good God will not im- 
 pute this to you as a sin," he said, rever- 
 ently. " If it be one, I will have to share 
 it with you, for the sake of the suffering 
 it will relieve." 
 
 " Let me know when you need more," 
 said Alston. " Don't be bashful. I don't 
 know how much longer this thing is going 
 to last, but I am in for it now. My money 
 came to me easily, and it don't hurt me to 
 lose some; nor my friends, either." 
 
 "Thank you," said the priest; "you have 
 done much. What these people would 
 
246 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 have done, indeed, without your aid, I 
 cannot say. There is great suffering, as 
 it is." 
 
 They had reached the mill gate, and Als- 
 ton stopped. The clergyman looked at his 
 companion with kindly eyes. 
 
 " The prayers of the church," he said, 
 solemnly, " will go up for you, my friend, 
 for your goodness to its people." 
 
 " Thanks," said Alston, embarrassed, and 
 a little moved by the priest's earnestness, as 
 he left him. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SITUATION. 
 
 'HE condition of affairs in F was 
 
 now deplorable, and it seemed as if it 
 were impossible that the strike could con- 
 tinue much longer. 
 
 The mill, as has been related, had re- 
 mained open, and was worked as far as the 
 limited number of operatives permitted. 
 Such men as had applied for work, the sup- 
 erintendent felt obliged to receive. These 
 were not "Associates of Toil," of course; 
 but merely men who desired work, and 
 assumed to engage in it without the permis- 
 sion of any " order," — who felt that they 
 had the right to their own judgment as to 
 the manner of supporting themselves and 
 their families, and had never seen any good 
 
 247 
 
248 The Strike in the B JMill. 
 
 reason for submitting themselves to the 
 guidance of others in such matters. As 
 American citizens, they properly considered 
 that, so long as they obeyed the laws of the 
 land, made for all, they ought to be pro- 
 tected in disregarding the rules and cen- 
 sorship of any coterie of men, who might, 
 indeed, obey such rules themselves, if they 
 chose, but had no right to impose them 
 upon others. These workmen were under 
 the protection of the police, but they were 
 constantly menaced by the " Associates," 
 and, in many instances besides those already 
 alluded to, were maltreated, in spite of the 
 vigilance of the authorities. 
 
 Men arriving in town, in search of work, 
 had been met by so-called " pickets " of the 
 order with threatening suggestions, euphe- 
 mistically styled by them " moral suasion." 
 Some had been frightened away at once, 
 and others succumbed to " persuasion " 
 
The Situation, 249 
 
 after a few clays. But there were others, 
 whose necessities or pluck rendered them 
 proof against it, and who persisted in work- 
 ing in the mill, as they had intended. 
 These were obliged to go to and from their 
 work, with the others already under the 
 same ban, more or less under police protec- 
 tion. Opprobrious epithets sounded con- 
 stantly in their ears, and they learned to be 
 almost indifferent to an occasional shower 
 of stones. 
 
 Some account has been given of the 
 treatment to which they were liable when 
 incautiously venturing about the town alone 
 in the evening. There had been many in- 
 stances of this sort, in some of which the 
 unoffending men had suffered severely. 
 One man, nearly done to death, was lan- 
 guishing in the hospital of a neighboring 
 city. On another occasion, however, when 
 the "Associates" had supposed that three to 
 
250 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 one was sufficient odds, they found them- 
 selves mistaken. Though attacked from 
 behind, the non-union man, who possessed 
 great muscular power and agility, promptly 
 put them forth to the signal discomfi- 
 ture of his antagonists. Two of them, 
 indeed, were effectually prevented from fur- 
 ther usefulness, in this particular line of 
 persuasion, during the continuance of the 
 strike. Many of the strikers honestly 
 deprecated these things; but still they 
 went on. 
 
 The boycott had not been confined to the 
 store of Mr. Jones, but had been rigidly ap- 
 plied to all transacting business in F 
 
 who failed to obey the directions ofuhe 
 " Associates of Toil " as to whom they 
 should deal with. This included all but one 
 — a provision dealer, whose shop was in the 
 quarter of the town most occupied by these 
 men. He yielded, rather than close up. 
 
The Situatiofi. 251 
 
 Some embarrassment arose with regard to 
 the only drug store in the phice, and it was 
 found necessary to raise the boycott there, 
 rather to the amusement of the apothecary. 
 
 Poor Mr. Jones, as he said, had at first 
 suffered considerably by this oppressive 
 interdict; but the entire business of the 
 town was affected far less by the boycott 
 than by the general stagnation of trade, and 
 the loss of the purchasing power of so 
 large a portion of the population. 
 
 In a village three-fourths of whose popu- 
 lation was composed of persons connected 
 
 with the operation of the B-;^ fiictory, 
 
 this strike was a matter that affected the en- 
 tire place, and engaged the attention of all 
 living in the settled portion of the town. It 
 effected a change in the whole current of 
 affairs. Its painful results could not be 
 hidden, and little else w^as thought or talked 
 of The charitable found the field for their 
 
252 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 » 
 
 efforts in the relief of the necessitous so 
 limitless that they, like some of our friends, 
 gave themselves almost wholly to the w^ork; 
 w^hile the town authorities found that, with 
 this idle population, given to the excesses 
 described, their vigilance needed to be con- 
 stant and unremitting. 
 
 Perhaps the agricultural portion of the 
 
 inhabitants of F , living away from the 
 
 centre, were the least affected by this con- 
 dition of things. When, after making their 
 purchases at some boycotted establishment, 
 they lingered about the village, it was quite 
 evident that they regarded the strike as a 
 rather childish performance, with which 
 a farming community could have but little 
 sympathy, albeit they w^ere laborers them- 
 selves of no mean pretensions. They 
 talked over the present attitude of the strik- 
 ers and the order of the " Associates of 
 Toil," in a calm, judicial manner, on the 
 
The Situation, 253 
 
 store piazza, though the subject was of 
 much less apparent interest to them than 
 the points of a yoke of steers, or the proba- 
 ble price of potatoes during the coming 
 season; and they contemplated the idlers 
 about the streets as though they were so 
 many recalcitrant school-boys, who should, 
 perhaps, be looked after a little, but to 
 whose vagaries they, after all, attached but 
 little importance. 
 
 The idea of a number of grown men 
 voluntarily giving up the personal control 
 of their own business, and then standing 
 out, simply for the sake of augmenting the 
 power and influence of an organization that 
 seemed to them of about the same value as 
 the Odd Fellows or Free Masons, met with 
 their cold disapproval. Possessing natures 
 capable of being warmed to fever heat by 
 patriotic or other sufficient considerations, 
 in the ordinary affairs of life they were im- 
 
254 ^^^^ Strike in the B Jifill. 
 
 passive and logical, and were unable to see 
 the least palliation for the self-inflicted 
 sufTerins: of those enorao^ed in this strike. 
 
 It is rare for mill operatives to have any 
 resource except their wages, and after the 
 strikers had received the amounts due at 
 the time of the strike, their main dependence 
 was upon the contributions from elsewhere. 
 
 The general executive board of the 
 order had from time to time voted them 
 certain sums from the general treasury, in 
 all a very considerable amount, and they 
 had received from other local assemblies 
 some large contributions. 
 
 These supplies at first seemed to them 
 ample, unaccustomed as most of them 
 were to considerinor laro^e amounts of 
 money, and not realizing that to sustain such 
 a number of persons requires, in the aggre- 
 gate, very great sums weekly. But they 
 soon became more intelligent on this sub- 
 
The Situation. 255 
 
 ject. The money came into the hands of a 
 finance committee, who distributed it with 
 great fairness and scrupulous honesty; but 
 it was soon evident that it was wholly inad- 
 equate to more than slightly mitigate their 
 growing distress. 
 
 At the last formal distribution this fact 
 was painfully apparent. The majority of 
 the applicants were women. Some had 
 with them children, and it was pitiful to see 
 the eager and wistful look of the little 
 things as they watched the scanty pittance 
 handed to their mothers, evidently fully 
 comprehending that it was all that was to 
 be had with which to buy them bread. 
 
 "Is this all that Fm to get from yez?" 
 said an old woman, looking at the money 
 lying in her hand. 
 
 " I am sorry," returned one of the com- 
 mittee, " but it is all w^e can give you, in 
 fairness to the others — " 
 
256 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 " Arrah, the divil fly away with yer 
 ^Associates of Toil.' Didn't that thafe Pat 
 Murphy till us that we'd be taken good care 
 of by the ordher? Phwat good is this you've 
 given me?" 
 
 " Better draw a little uv yer money from 
 the bank, Mother O'Connell, or sell a house 
 or two ? " said a young man standing 
 near by. 
 
 As the old woman was believed to have 
 saved a good deal, and was known to own 
 two tenement houses, working hard in the 
 mill only to increase her hoard, this remark 
 was greeted with laughter by the crowd. 
 
 " And is it me hard earnings ye'd have 
 me spind?" responded the crone. "Bad 
 cess to ye — and thin I'll not doit"; and, 
 loudy muttering to herself, she pushed out 
 through the crowd. 
 
 But there w^ere few like her. A pale, 
 middle-aged woman, with a child in her 
 
The Situation, 257 
 
 arms, took the money handed to her, and, 
 realizing its trifling amount, and what it 
 must do for her family, she could not sup- 
 press the tears that rose to her eyes. 
 
 " Can we have no more for a week ? " she 
 said, looking piteously at the committee. 
 " We cannot live upon this. My children 
 are nearly starving now." 
 
 " We want to give you more, but it's all 
 we've got," said the committee-man. — "By 
 G — d! I can't stand this business," he said 
 to his colleagues in an undertone, as the 
 woman turned away. " You'll have to get 
 some one in my place after this." 
 
 A youngish man, himself looking thin and 
 hungry enough, had watched the women 
 coming and going for some minutes — but 
 when one of the committee asked him if he 
 did not want to take his money, he shook 
 his head. 
 
 "No," he said: "I can't do it. Give it 
 
258 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 to the women and children. I have no 
 family"; and he turned away. 
 
 Many others that afternoon followed his 
 example and nobly refused to take their 
 share, though the hunger that was even 
 then gnawing them made severe test of 
 their manhood. It was wonderful to see 
 men at once so resolute and so weak. So 
 strong in their capacit}^ for self-sacrifice, and 
 yet the willing victims of a meaningless 
 combination, to which they clung with blind 
 fatuity. 
 
 For several hours the dreary procession 
 filed in and out. It seemed the veriest 
 farce, this doling out of sums not half 
 equal to the needs they were intended to 
 relieve. 
 
 When the committee were left to them- 
 selves, they looked at each other with no 
 very pleasant expressions. 
 
 "Where is this thing to end? "said the 
 
The Situatiofi, 259 
 
 man who had before spoken. "What's the 
 prospect for more money, Hines?" 
 
 " Very bad indeed," said Hines, who w^as 
 the same man who has been described in a 
 former chapter. Though much shaken in 
 his faith in the wisdom of the course pur- 
 sued by the majority, and nearly persuaded 
 by Alston and Darragh to head the return 
 to work, his natural obstinacy and great 
 reluctance to see the order injured, at the 
 last held him back, and he had remained at 
 his post on the finance committee. 
 
 " I have this letter," he continued, " from 
 the general board, that I showed you. I 
 don't see much encouragement in it; do 
 you? There's too many strikes all about." 
 
 "Well, I'm resigning," said the other; 
 " and I'm going to get out of this myself, 
 — there's no lookout ahead. I'd go into 
 the mill to-morrow, but I won't be called a 
 scab." 
 
26o The Strike hi the B Mill, 
 
 " It seems to me," said Hines, "though 
 they don't say it, as if the general exec- 
 utive board, master workman and all, 
 thought we ought to have followed Dar- 
 ragh's advice. There is more money gone 
 elsewhere than here, any wa}^, — that I 
 know." 
 
 " Well," said the other, who had been 
 writing on a piece of paper, that he now 
 threw across the table to the others, 
 " there's my resignation as one of this 
 committee. And I'll not be here after to- 
 morrow, so it's no use my bothering about 
 it. I'm a single man, and I've got money 
 enouo^h left to gret me somewhere else to 
 find a job; and when it gives out I can 
 tramp it. There'll be company enough for 
 me on the roads, I guess, if this thing 
 keeps on." 
 
 The others made no reply, and, throw- 
 ing on his hat, he bade them good- 
 
The Situation. 261 
 
 bye and went out, slamming the door 
 behind him. 
 
 " He's about right, Hines," said the other, 
 after he had gone. "If it wasn't that I 
 can't go, for my family, I'd cut it; damned 
 quick, too." 
 
 Hines got up and went slowly to a win- 
 dow, and stood with his hands in his 
 pockets, looking out for a minute. 
 
 " I could stand most anything," he said, 
 speaking as if to himself, " but the paying 
 the twenty-five dollars to that speaking fel- 
 low, the other night. I tell you," he added, 
 turning, and coming back to the table, that 
 he struck with his heavy hand, " that thing 
 made me mad ! " 
 
 "You're- right there," said the other; 
 " and I like to hear you say that, Hines. 
 You've always been so solid for sticking to 
 the order, no matter what happened. That's 
 what that fellow said, ' Stick to it,' ' Stand 
 
262 The Strike in the B- Mill. 
 
 out for principle,' and all that. Now, 
 nines, I want to know what it's all for? 
 What is it we're after with the order but 
 more wages, or the like of that? And, 
 when they're offered, why the devil won't 
 the order let us take them?" 
 
 Hines was one of the men who had long: 
 had an abiding faith in the power of this 
 combination to do the laboring man great 
 good, and he had been willing, like Dar- 
 ragh, to make personal sacrifices to keep it 
 alive. His assessments had been always 
 promptly paid, and he had rejoiced in its 
 apparently flourishing condition. 
 
 "Well," he now said, "I admit we made 
 a mistake there. I told Mr. Alston so the 
 other day. It don't look as though the mill 
 would back down, and we're about at the 
 end of our rope." 
 
 " But," replied the other, " you don't 
 answer me. We struck for more pay, and 
 
The Situation, 263 
 
 we got it. There's where the order helped 
 us. We were right in striking, and the 
 way the mill backed down shows it. Now, 
 because working with scabs don't suit the 
 order, they won't let us take what we 
 struck for. I say, Hines, that it ain't right. 
 The order's got up to help tcs^ I suppose; 
 not we to help the orderP 
 
 Hines made no answer. His belief in 
 the value of the organization had become a 
 habit with him, and he could not readily 
 part with it. But he had no answer for the 
 words of his companion, that found an echo 
 in his own mind. The logic of events was 
 becoming too strong for the untested theo- 
 ries he had so long entertained. 
 
 " I'm at the last notch, myself," the other 
 went on; "we've no food; and it's getting 
 cold and we've nothing to warm or cook 
 with. I never thought to be called a scab, 
 but I'll be one soon; and you may give it 
 
264 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 away, if you like. Man! " he added, excit- 
 edly, " I never lifted my hand to harm any 
 one, but I'm getting that desperate that I'd 
 do most anything now!" 
 
 Hines looked worried, and spoke a few 
 words to quiet and encourage him. " I've 
 got a few dollars of my savings left," he 
 finally said. "I'll divide wath you; but 
 don't go do anything rash. There's been 
 enough of that work, by the roughs we've 
 got with us, and I'm afraid they're not done 
 yet. Don't you, a decent man, disgrace 
 yourself that way." 
 
 " Well," said the other, more quietl}^, " I 
 don't mean to if I can help it." 
 
 He got up to go. " I may be in the mill 
 to-morrow, or soon, rather than take your 
 money. Don't let them abuse me, Hines, 
 if you can help it. I don't go back on the 
 order because I want to — it's because it 
 will kill me and m}^ family if I don't." 
 
The Situation, 265 
 
 The man spoke these words in almost a 
 broken voice, and Hines, who liked him as 
 an old and tried friend, was much moved. 
 
 " They shall not if I've any weight with 
 them at all," he said, firmly. " If they do, 
 I'll follow you, order or no order." 
 
 The change in his feelings that could 
 permit of his making even this conditional 
 promise was, in a man of his character and 
 determination, very great: and he fully 
 meant to keep it. 
 
 Many of the strikers had left the town, 
 seeking w^ork elsewhere. Some few were 
 able to use the cars, but more went on 
 foot on the highways, utterly destitute, and 
 obliged to beg their bread from one farm- 
 house to another. The greater number, 
 however, were obliged to remain. 
 
 Men who are suffering are very apt to be 
 unreasonable, and these, seeing their fami- 
 lies in need, and others doing the work that 
 
266 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 they had learned to regard as their vested 
 right^ they looked on the new-comers with 
 daily increasing hatred. Many who were 
 not naturally inclined to violence of any 
 kind now saw with indifference the frequent 
 attempts against the non-union workmen, 
 and were in a state of mind that was fast 
 becoming dangerous to law and order. The 
 fear of the vengeance of the order kept 
 many true to it, who had long since been 
 disenchanted as to its power to do them any 
 good. 
 
 Each man was suspicious of his fellow, 
 and, except among those most intimate, they 
 were actually afraid to express their real sen- 
 timents. A kind of reign of terror prevailed 
 that it seemed impossible to break. But 
 the constantly increasing restlessness of the 
 men began to show the leaders that, in spite 
 of their late successful suppression of revolt, 
 they could hardly hold them much longer. 
 
The Situation* 267 
 
 These men, while of not more than 
 average ability, were astute politicians. By 
 the simple processes that others see through, 
 but do not take the trouble to energetically 
 combat, they had originally secured their 
 election to these positions, and now, in 
 order to hold them, it was very essential 
 that they should succeed in carrying the 
 strike through to a substantially successful 
 issue, upon the basis they had persuaded the 
 majority to adopt. 
 
 Utterly unscrupulous, they cared little for 
 the suffering of the people, so that they 
 could carry out their ends, and they had had 
 little difficulty in keeping about them a 
 sufficient number of the worst disposed 
 men to overawe the rest, and upon whom 
 they could depend for any illegal acts. 
 A few of these had been arrested 
 and punished ; but the greater number 
 escaped, and still formed a dangerous 
 
268 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 and facile weapon in the hands of their 
 masters. 
 
 Throughout, the leaders and their adhe- 
 rents had stimulated as far as possible the 
 courage and endurance of the strikers by 
 meetings of the order, and by personal ap- 
 peals and exhortation. As underlying them 
 all there was a covert threat, too well ap- 
 preciated, they had been so far effectual; for, 
 as has been seen, it needed combination to 
 enable an}^ head to be made against this 
 solid cabal within the organization. 
 
 There were many secret meetings of this 
 central junta, to which none were admitted 
 but those who were in full sympath}^ w^ith 
 the leaders, and pledged to carry the strike 
 to a successful termination by any means. 
 Many plans had been discussed, and some 
 carried out, but so far none had met with 
 the success that had been desired. The non- 
 union workmen still remained in the town. 
 
The Situation. 269 
 
 The man Kohler was always present at 
 their meetings, for, though unpopular with 
 the strikers at large, these men found him a 
 kindred spirit. Learning of the strike, 
 through the newspapers, it had occurred 
 to him that here might be a compara- 
 tively safe place to propagate his pecu- 
 liar doctrines, it being in a small village, 
 probably indifferently provided with police, 
 and the strikers largely of foreign antece- 
 dents. He had, therefore, left the back 
 room in the city whence he periodically 
 belched forth fire and slaug^hter through the 
 inane ravings of an anarchical newspaper, 
 and appeared in F . 
 
 The average New Englander is by nature 
 and education extremely averse to interfe- 
 rence with any man's personal liberty, and 
 this fellow had been suffered to remain in 
 
 F and do and say about what he 
 
 pleased. 
 
270 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 It is only justice to say that the larger 
 number of the strikers were not at all in 
 sympathy with his " principles," which 
 might be briefly epitomized as exhortations 
 to burn the town and kill everybody in it 
 who was not an " Associate of Toil " or 
 Anarchist. But the extremists, with whom 
 everything was subordinated to carrying 
 their strike through to a successful end- 
 ing on their own line, found that the mis- 
 chievous German, so fertile in sugges- 
 tions, was also useful in procuring them 
 a considerable number of weapons and 
 ammunition, including a quantity of dyna- 
 mite. 
 
 Their later conferences were upon the most 
 effectual method of utilizing these weapons 
 in an effort to drive the non-union workmen 
 in a body from the town. When they were 
 got rid of, it was proposed to enter the mill 
 and go to work without further explanations 
 
The Situation, 271 
 
 or conference. This would be, as they 
 viewed it, a practical victory. At any 
 rate, they saw no other open to them. 
 
 They were able to rely upon fifty or more 
 roughs, who, some of them, joined in their 
 consultations, and it was believed that a 
 few hundred others might be suddenly 
 aroused and led on to mischief by an appeal 
 to their passions and simultaneous move- 
 ment of the conspirators and their horde. 
 
 Nearly seven weeks of the strike had 
 passed. A vague feeling of uneasiness per- 
 vaded the village, and every one had an air 
 of strained expectation as of some approach- 
 ing crisis that could not be long deferred, 
 and the nature of which it was impossible 
 to determine. 
 
 The solicitude of the authorities in- 
 creased, and they quietly added to their 
 precautions, for, though as yet there had 
 been no organized violence, and some dan- 
 
272 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 gers had been averted, they feared that 
 something of the kind would be attempted 
 before the leaders and their followers would 
 abandon their grip upon the men. This fear 
 was by no means imaginary, as will be seen. 
 
 Upon a cold November evening, nearly 
 at the end of the seventh week of the strike, a 
 number of men were gathered in a by-street 
 of the town. Some stood about the door 
 and steps of a rumshop at the corner of an 
 alley, w^hile others lounged here and there 
 on the sidewalk. Though the men had 
 sauntered up in an apparently aimless way, 
 it was quite evident that their assembling 
 was preconcerted. 
 
 The baize doors of the dramshop were 
 constantly swinging as men passed in and 
 out, and scraps of conversation might have 
 been heard by the passers-by, whom the 
 men on the sidewalk were careful not to 
 impede. 
 
The Sititation, 273 
 
 '^ Damn these cartridges ! " said one, 
 " 3'ou can't use them in a fight." 
 
 " Well," was the answer, " what Murphy 
 wants is to blow down the south wall of 
 the corporation block, where that crowd of 
 scabs is." 
 
 "Where is Kohler?" asked another man, 
 pressing through the crowd. 
 
 " Here I vash," said that disreputable- 
 looking foreigner, as he came through one 
 of the baize doors, wiping his beard with 
 his dirty hand. 
 
 "Are we all ready now?" asked the first 
 speaker. 
 
 " Yash — I suppose," rejoined the An- 
 archist. " But you better mine advice haf 
 taken, and had bomps. Dey vash mooch 
 brettier dinks for der pizness." 
 
 "You be hanged! We don't want to 
 blow up anything but the buildings. If we 
 are troubled by the police, we'll fight them 
 
274 - ^^^^ Strike in the B MilL 
 
 fair. We'll outnumber them, and have pis- 
 tols as well as they." 
 
 " We must do something," said Bradford, 
 "to drive out the scabs. If we blow up the 
 houses, they'll ' git,' and the mill will give 
 in. And, if they're gone, we can go to 
 work, any way." 
 
 " We can't hold our men much longer," 
 said another, " unless we do something." 
 
 " Faith," interrupted Murphy, laughing, 
 with that perception of a joke that is always 
 present with an Irishman, "we can't hould 
 oursilves — bad cess to it!" 
 
 " Well," said a strong-looking fellow, 
 with a bad face, who seemed to have much 
 authorit}^, " this night's job may beat 'em, 
 after all; damn 'em!" 
 
 " Come on now, boys! " he added; " let's 
 go over to the hall. You all have the 
 watchword, and every man knows what 
 he's to do." 
 
The Situation, 275 
 
 " Has Wadsworth had whiskey enough 
 to make him talk?" asked Bradford. 
 
 "Yes — yes," answered several, and 
 slowly, by twos and threes, the party 
 lounged away. 
 
 There was a regular meeting of the 
 "Associates of Toil " at the hall that even- 
 ing, called to consult on the situation and re- 
 ceive a report from the finance committee; 
 and the men, by different routes, all took 
 that direction. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 SOME BUCOLIC OPINIONS. 
 
 T3RAYTON'S resolve to give up some 
 
 of the more expensive of his farming 
 
 fancies was not suffered to lapse. He had 
 
 received a large price for his remaining 
 
 merinos, and w^as disposing of a number of 
 
 high-bred colts and cattle that he had on 
 
 hand. 
 
 On the afternoon spoken of in the last 
 
 chapter, he was driving a young horse over 
 to show to a gentleman, who had a large 
 fancy farm some distance on the other side 
 
 of F , when at a place where the road 
 
 passed through a hollow and along a cause- 
 way lined with willows, the animal sprang 
 out of the track so suddenly as to tax his 
 strength and skill to the utmost to keep him 
 
 276 
 
Sovie Bucolic Opinio7is, 277 
 
 and the carriage from going off the cause- 
 way. 
 
 He had the mettlesome but gentle crea- 
 ture imder control in an instant, and, look- 
 ing to ascertain what had caused its fright, 
 he perceived two men sitting at the side of 
 a little thicket, in the shade of the willows, 
 one of whom, not observing that they had 
 frightened the horse, arose, and asked Bray- 
 ton what time it was. He told him, and, 
 in his turn, asked which way they were 
 walking. 
 
 " Well, sir," answered the man, " we 
 
 started from F this afternoon. It's 
 
 only a matter of four miles, or so, but we 
 ain't much used to walking. Maybe we'll 
 do better before we've orot throuo:h our 
 journey." 
 
 Brayton was a kind-hearted fellow, and, 
 as he was going several miles farther on, 
 and was driving in a roomy Concord 
 
278 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 wagon, he told the men to get in and he'd 
 give them a lift, which they seemed very 
 glad to have. 
 
 " You're leaving F to find work, I 
 
 suppose?" he said, as they drove on. 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered one of the men. 
 " It's all along of the strike. We can't wait 
 no longer for work, and were going to look 
 for it elsewhere. There's lots gone al- 
 ready." 
 
 "It's a pity," said Brayton, "that you 
 couldn't have made up with the mill, and 
 all got back to work before this." 
 
 " Me and Jim would 'a' done it, sir," an- 
 swered the man, " but we didn't feel quite 
 safe to, and thought it 'ud be easier just to 
 cut it, and get in quiet somewheres else. 
 We was ' Associates,' you see, sir; and the 
 ^ Associates ' don't like no ratting." 
 
 "Yes, I know," said Brayton. "But 
 what has become of your families? " 
 
Some Bucolic Opinions, 279 
 
 "We hain't any families — me and Jim 
 hain't. Them that has, can't leave, and 
 they're having a hard time. We ain't had 
 any too much to eat for a week, ourselves," 
 added the poor fellow, patiently. 
 
 Brayton looked at him and was moved to 
 pity, as he observed his hollow eyes and 
 pale face under his half-grown beard. 
 
 " Take this/' he said, handing them some 
 mone}', when he reached his destination, 
 and they were starting again on their weary 
 tramp. 
 
 On Brayton's return home, he passed Mr. 
 Bradshaw's farm, and, observing the worthy 
 agriculturalist in his farm-yard, where he 
 was engaged in the useful but prosaic occu- 
 pation of shovelling manure into a cart, 
 with the ultimate intention of spreading it 
 on his fields, he drew up his horse by the 
 fence, and called to him. 
 
 Mr. Bradshaw unbent hi^ long person 
 
28o The Strike in the B Mill 
 
 very much as one would open a jack-knife, 
 and leaned gracefully on his shov^el a 
 moment, as if it had been a sword, while he 
 gradually took in the identity of the man in 
 the wagon. When he recognized his vis- 
 itor, he left his work with that alacrity 
 always observed in the husbandman, when 
 the slightest pretext presents itself, and 
 regardless of the reproach in the mild eyes 
 of his patient oxen, came over to the fence, 
 and, laying his arms on the top rail, settled 
 down for a protracted chat. The suspend- 
 ers of his overalls accentuated the breadth 
 and leanness of his shoulders as he squared 
 them over the rail, while his sunburned, 
 good-humored face looked out from a straw 
 hat about the size of a Japanese umbrella. 
 
 "Waal, George," he said, "I'm glad 
 f see ye. Haow's the old lady? — Yaas? 
 Thet's a mighty pretty crittur in them 
 shafts," he added, in a confidential tone. 
 
Sotne Bucolic Opinions, 281 
 
 looking critically at the colt; "almighty 
 nice little hoss." 
 
 "Yes," said Bra3^ton. " I've made up my 
 mind to sell him, though." 
 
 " Sho ! — ye don't say so, do ye ! Waal 
 I guess ye want a good price fur him. 
 Unless," he went on cautiously, craning his 
 head farther over the fence, " he's suthin' 
 the matter with his legs. Colts most alters 
 duz have." 
 
 In utter disregard of his late enofrossinof 
 labors, Mr. Bradshaw's interest in the con- 
 versation now induced him to insure its 
 prolongation by lazily swinging a long leg 
 up, and seating himself on the fence. This 
 accomplished, he detached a large splinter 
 from the top rail, and, drawing from his 
 pocket a preposterous knife, having a blade 
 large enough to split cord-wood, he be- 
 came equipped for conversation to an}^ 
 extent. 
 
282 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 " Haow's yer apples this year, George? " 
 he asked, whittling slowly. 
 
 " Pretty well," answered Brayton. " I 
 have plenty, but they don't seem to have 
 filled out well." 
 
 "Yaas? waal, it's 'baout so with mine, 
 tew. Naow, haow queer 'tis, ain't it?" 
 added Mr. Bradshaw, with a thoughtful 
 pucker; '^ if 'tain't one thing, it's another — 
 allers suthin' wrong." He shook his head 
 with an air of philosophical resignation. 
 
 " I supposed you might like to speak of 
 those cows," said Brayton. 
 
 "In a minnit, George! in a minnit!" 
 answered Mr. Bradshaw, who had no notion 
 of taking up his choicest topic until all 
 other themes had been thoroughly ex- 
 hausted. " Ther's time enough. By the 
 way, George, speakin' uv cows — haow's the 
 strike a-gittin' on to F , George." 
 
 " They are still holding out," answered 
 
Some Bucolic Opiniofis. 283 
 
 Brayton. " But the organization can't hold 
 them much longer, I think." 
 
 " Them ' Associates uv Toil ' ? " asked 
 Mr. Bradshaw. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Yaas ? Naow, what all-fired foolishness 
 it is, ain't it, George? Ther's my boy 
 Eben," he went on ; " stout young feller 
 'nuff, but hain't got none tew much sprawl 
 
 — he would go off to L , a shoe-makin' 
 
 in one uv them shops. I sez I wanted him 
 ter stay on th' old place — good farm, but 
 needs young blood ter keep it up. I'm 
 a-gittin' middlin' old myself. But, no, he 
 would go. Wanted ter wear store-clothes, 
 I guess, an' be raound taown evenin's. 
 Thet's 'baout th' heft uv it, I guess." 
 
 "So he has left you ?" said Brayton; "I 
 haven't seen him lately, but didn't know 
 he had gone away." 
 
 "Yaas, this ten months. Waal, 's I wuz 
 
284 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 a-sayin', he come home, a while ago, all 
 dressed up ter kill, an' told me all 'baout 
 them ' Associates uv Toil ' he'd jined, an' 
 what a big thing 'twas, an' all thet. Sez I, 
 ^ Eben, you little numbscull,' sez I, ' I've 
 done more hard labor than ye'U ever do, 
 an' I hain't got no call ter be a ^ Associate 
 uv Toil.' But he went on ter tell uv their 
 rules and gov'nment and the resistin' of the 
 encroachments uv capital, an' all sich; and, 
 sez I : ' Nao w, shet up ! don't ye talk sich stuff 
 ter me. We're livin' in a free country,' sez 
 I, ' an' hain't no use for no gov'nment 'cept 
 that uv Uncle Sam. He's tuk good care 
 uv me so fur; an' what he can't do I can do 
 fur myself " 
 
 " Well, you were about right," said 
 Brayton, looking at his watch. 
 
 "Naow, George," said Mr. Bradshaw, 
 anxiously, for he was thoroughly enjoying 
 himself, "don't ye be in a hurry; it's airly 
 
Some BucoUc Opinions. 285 
 
 yit. Well, as I wuz a-sayinV' he went on, 
 " I sez to mother that night, sez I, ' Aour 
 Eben allers wuz a blamed fool, an' I guess 
 he ain't no less uv one, naow he's a " Asso- 
 ciate uv Toil," than he wuz afore.'" 
 
 Brayton here lifted the colt's head from 
 the fence, over which it was leaning, with 
 the rein, and showed some signs of impa- 
 tience. 
 
 " Waal," continued Mr. Bradshaw, nar- 
 rowly watching him, " Eben is on a strike 
 naow, tew, Eb is; and I expect," he added, 
 with an expansive smile, " that he'll be 
 comin' along* home directly, to git suthin' 
 t' eat. Darned little jackass! " 
 
 Bra3ton laughed, and gathered up his 
 reins, settling himself in his seat. 
 
 " I really must be off, Mr. Bradshaw," 
 he said; "do you think you care for either 
 of those heifers ? " 
 
 Mr. Bradshaw spit meditativel}^, and his 
 
286 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 face took on a look of unspeakable wis- 
 dom. 
 
 " Half Durham ye said, George?" 
 
 "Yes; I have told you that a dozen times," 
 said Brayton, smiling. 
 
 " I'm afeared ye set 'em too high," said Mr. 
 Bradshaw. " Naow, what did ye think uv 
 that crumple caow." 
 
 " What's yer hurry ? " he added, in great 
 alarm, as Brayton, remarking that he was not 
 thinking of the crumpled cow at all, started 
 his horse and drove off at a good pace. 
 
 " Waal — good-bye, good-bye ! " shouted 
 Mr. Bradshaw as the team I'apidly disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " What's the good uv bein' in sich a 
 hurry," he grumbled to hmiself as he 
 examined his whittled stick with great care, 
 turning it first on one side and then the 
 other. "A- man can't trade in no sich 
 way." Then mentally determining to catch 
 
Some Bucolic Opimons. 287 
 
 Brayton at home early some afternoon and 
 enjoy the ' precious season ' that he had 
 been disappointed of this time, he looked 
 up and down the road in the vain hope that 
 some other acquaintance would happen 
 along and keep him yet longer from a return 
 to his labors. This wish not being gratified, 
 he threw away his stick, returned his knife 
 to his pocket, and, slowly dropping his legs 
 from the fence, turned his reluctant atten- 
 tion once more to his muck-heap and oxen. 
 
 "Whoa hesh, Buck! Haw, Bright — 
 whoa there! what's yer hurry?" remarked 
 Mr. Bradshaw, to those much-enduring 
 beasts. 
 
 As Brayton drove homeward, he could 
 not help thinking of the fatuity that took 
 these young men away from their fathers' 
 farms to become wage-earners. Here was 
 Bradshaw, with a comfortable farm, that 
 only needed the work of young and inter- 
 
288 The Strike in the B JMilL 
 
 ested hands to keep it in good order, and 
 his only son would not stay and do it. The 
 farm would soon begin to deteriorate, while 
 the man who could have had peace and 
 plenty there, chose to earn scanty wages 
 in a town, probably for all his life. 
 
 To Brayton, who loved his fields and 
 doted on his live-stock, and to whom the 
 most ordinary incidents of farming were a 
 constant source of interest, the stupidity of 
 this young man was incomprehensible. 
 
 As he drove through F- , he was 
 
 stopped by a detective in plain clothes, who 
 had been for some little time in the employ 
 of the town. 
 
 As Brayton drew up to the sidewalk, the 
 man motioned to him to drive into an open 
 carriage-way leading from the street, and, 
 looking up and down to see that they had 
 not been observed, he came to the side of 
 the wagon. 
 
Some Btccolic Opinions, 289 
 
 "Did you see the chief of police?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " No," said Brayton, " what is it? " 
 
 " He was looking for you," said the man. 
 " The fact is, we really think that crowd are 
 up to something to-night." 
 
 " What are they concocting — do you 
 know?" asked Brayton. 
 
 " As near as I can make out, they are 
 going to try and blow up that wall again." 
 
 " What! of the south tenements? " asked 
 Brayton. 
 
 " Yes ; that's their scheme." 
 
 " How can they get there," said Brayton, 
 "without being seen? There are pickets 
 there night and day since that cartridge 
 was found." 
 
 " Yes, but they are going to try a mob 
 and force things this time." 
 
 "They'll never dare that! will they?" 
 said Brayton. " And there are not enough 
 
290 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 bad ones to make a show, I should 
 think." 
 
 " There's more than 3^ou think, sir," 
 returned the man; "and there's two or 
 three hundred more who are not of them- 
 selves inclined to mischief, but are suffering 
 and desperate, and might easily be drawn 
 into it." 
 
 Brayton thought a moment. " Is the 
 detail from M here?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, it was telegraphed for, and got 
 over this noon. I do believe they mean 
 business this time, sir," continued the man. 
 " Some of them think that if they could 
 scare the scabs out, the mill would give in, 
 or, at least, there'd be no scabs to work 
 with, and they could go in without a back- 
 down. So they talk, and they've got to do 
 something soon, or not at all." 
 
 "Yes? well, I have my doubts whether 
 they do it, after all," said Bra3^ton, reflecting, 
 
Some Bucolic Opinions. 291 
 
 as he flicked the flies from the colt's 
 quarter. 
 
 " I'll be back in town as soon as I have 
 tea," he said directly; " there's no hurry, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 '*Oh, no," said the detective, "They 
 are going up there afl:er the meeting, if they 
 can start the crowd from the hall. Mean- 
 while we have a strong force there, and the 
 
 M detail will slip round as soon as it's 
 
 dark." 
 
 " That's right — I'll be back before that," 
 said Brayton; and, starting the colt, now 
 becoming a little restive, he drove out of 
 the yard. As he passed Mr. Hardy's house, 
 he drew rein and jumped from the wagon. 
 
 Keeping his eye on his horse, he went up 
 the steps and rang the bell, running back 
 again in time to catch the reins as the 
 animal made a start. 
 
 " Say to Miss Hardy," he said to the 
 
292 The Strike in the B AlilL 
 
 servant that came to the door, " that I wish 
 she would come to the door a moment, as I 
 cannot leave my horse, and would like to 
 speak with her." 
 
 " I can't leave this horse," he said to 
 Ellen as she appeared. ^' I wanted to ask 
 you and your father to remain at home this 
 evening, as there might be a little rumpus 
 in the streets, and I should be glad to know 
 you were both at home." 
 
 "What is it, — what is going to happen? 
 George?" There had been a number of 
 alarms and rumors lately, and she was 
 becoming thoroughly nervous and fright- 
 ened. 
 
 " Oh!" he replied, " I doubt if it amounts 
 to anything, but I wanted to be on the safe 
 side with you, darling." 
 
 " But where shall you be, George ? I want 
 to be on the safe side with you, too." 
 
 "Don't worry about me, dear! — I shall 
 
Some Bucolic Opinions 293 
 
 be all right! there isn't the least danger, you 
 see. I didn't want you to get into any crowd 
 — that is all. But I won't keep you in the 
 street here any longer, so good-bye. I'll be 
 in in the morning." 
 
 He was rather anxious to be no further 
 questioned. He had not wished to alarm 
 her, and only the possibility of her being in 
 the street, and subjected perhaps to annoy- 
 ance and danger, had induced him to run 
 the risk of causing her the lesser evil of 
 anxiety. 
 
 As he drove home, he almost regretted 
 having done so, for he entertained great 
 doubt of the genuineness of the proposed 
 attempt. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LAWLESSNESS. 
 
 T^HE meeting of the "Associates of 
 Toil " that evening was ostensibly 
 called for conference as to the prospect of 
 further outside aid. There was a conspicu- 
 ous absence of the better class of men, and 
 there were no women present. Many had 
 given up attending these numerous meet- 
 ings, fruitless of result, that only seemed to 
 be held for the opportunity afforded for 
 windy declamation. This night many 
 feared to come, for there was danger in 
 the air. Still the hall was tolerably well 
 filled. 
 
 Instead of the well fed, comfortable-look- 
 ing men, of quiet demeanor, who, for the 
 294 
 
Lawlessness. 295 
 
 most part, had filled the place a month be- 
 fore, most of the faces were haggard and 
 restless; many showed the blood-shot eyes 
 and strained expression of men who were 
 drinking hard, and some of those present 
 were more or less under the influence of 
 liquor. 
 
 Hines, the chairman of the finance com- 
 mittee, addressed the meeting, but his spirit 
 and determination appeared to be broken. 
 In a depressed way, he told them that the 
 committee had worked hard and done all 
 that they could, but the contributions came 
 in very slowly, and some had ceased alto- 
 gether. The calls on the executive board 
 were responded to as far as fairly encour- 
 aging letters went, but they seemed to find 
 it impossible to send much money. One 
 of the committee had resigned, and gone 
 awa}^ He didn't see how they could go on 
 much longer. They had hardly any money 
 
296 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 in hand, and he didn't know what to advise. 
 As he concluded, he looked about him in a 
 cheerless way, sat down on a chair on the 
 platform, and wiped his face with his hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 There was an angry murmur in the audi- 
 ence, and the man Wadsworth jumped 
 upon a chair in the middle of the room. 
 He was an Englishman, of good abilities, 
 and had received a university education. 
 Losing position and prospects, years before, 
 through his incurably bad habits, he had 
 long eked out his living, w^hen sober, by 
 ordinary unskilled work. When elated by 
 a sufficiency of liquor, he was a ready 
 speaker, and, disgusted with life, and pos- 
 sessed with rancor against those more vir- 
 tuous than himself, he could always be 
 relied upon for violent philippics against 
 the established order of things. 
 
 " Brethi'cn ! *" he shouted, "we cafi't hold 
 
Lawlessness. 297 
 
 on much longer! We are lying under the 
 hand of our oppressors, and our resources 
 are nearly spent. Our families are starving. 
 What is the effective weapon in the hands 
 of this soulless corporation that they are 
 using to crush us? It's these accursed 
 scabs, brethren! " 
 
 As he pronounced these words his voice 
 rose almost to a shriek; then he stopped 
 short. Cries of "That's so!" "Damn 
 'cm!" "Kill 'em! "sprang up all over the 
 hall. 
 
 After waiting a moment, he resumed. 
 " Yes," he said, slowly, " they ought to be 
 killed, for they are killing ?/5, — killing our 
 wives and our children. They come and 
 steal our work and our money, — the ver}^ 
 bread out of our mouths. And every day 
 they take away our hope of victory over our 
 oppressor! How long shall we endure it? 
 How much lonecr can we endure it? 
 
298 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 Brethren, we never can conquer till we 
 drive them out. When they go, the mill 
 gives in. Let us do it, then, and do it to- 
 night. We are ready. Your leaders are 
 here!" 
 
 "Come on, then!" shouted several. The 
 men of the street assemblage passed rapidly 
 through the crowd, shouting to be led on, 
 and a general movement began toward the 
 door. 
 
 A few tried to stem the torrent, and 
 called to the men to stop, but they were 
 unheeded, or silenced with blows; and, 
 under the lead of the organized body of 
 conspirators, a considerable mob was in a 
 moment on the street, ready for any mis- 
 chief Once there, the cry was raised, " On 
 to the south tenements, and drive out the 
 scabs ! " 
 
 As they moved onward, certain men 
 seemed to assume direction, though not the 
 
La'wless7iess, 299 
 
 slightest order was maintained. One of 
 these men presently called out, " Where's 
 Kohler?" A rather weak voice responded 
 from the middle of the crowd, " Here I 
 vash, — I leads you! Yes, yes! " 
 
 It was more than an hour since the 
 Anarchist had tasted beer, which may, per- 
 haps, have accounted for his husky, insuffi- 
 cient tones at this triumphant moment, 
 when his teachings seemed on the point 
 of immediate fruition. 
 
 The detective who had spoken that after- 
 noon to Brayton had been about the out- 
 side of the hall, and, gathering from the 
 exclamations of the men, as they swarmed 
 out, of their destination and purpose, he 
 made haste to warn the force that was 
 already at the threatened point. 
 
 The south tenements, as they were 
 called, composed a large brick block, 
 
 owned by the B Corporation, and let 
 
 to those in their employ. 
 
300 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 They had been undergoing repairs and 
 were unoccupied at the time of the strike ; 
 the repairs, however, were just completed. 
 The block was adjacent to the mill itself; 
 and, enclosed on three sides by the mill 
 flume and river. They could only be 
 approached by a single street, that led to 
 one end of the block and followed around 
 its wall, ending at the flume. These facts 
 had determined their occupanc}^ b}^ the 
 non-union workmen, as they were easily 
 watched and could be defended by a com- 
 paratively small force, if properly posted. 
 
 As the crowd gathered and began to 
 move forward, some of the empt3'-handed 
 were given revolvers, by the leading spirits, 
 who seemed to have a few to spare, and, as 
 they came opposite the store of our friend 
 Jones, a man called out, '' He's got some 
 pistols in there and axes! let's go for them; " 
 and six or eight men sprang upon .the store 
 
Lawlessness, 301 
 
 porch, and thundered at the door. It was 
 rather a rickety affair, and, as it was not 
 opened, they put their shoulders against it, 
 and it readily yielded. 
 
 Mr. Jones was about going home for the 
 nic^ht, to retire and dream of his rather 
 depressing business affairs, when he heard 
 a great noise in the street and, presently, 
 a violent knocking at his door, in which 
 he had only turned the key. As he 
 sprang forward to throw the heavy wooden 
 bar across, fully realizing that this was no 
 ordinary summons, he instinctively seized 
 an axe from a little stack by the counter 
 end, reaching the door just as it gave way 
 to the efforts of the rioters. At a glance 
 he took in the exact situation of affairs. 
 Before him were half a dozen powerful men, 
 just straightening themselves from their 
 push, and about to step across the threshold; 
 while behind them, and dimly seen in the 
 
302 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 dark, the crowd nearly filling the street was 
 pressing by, with shouts, and sound of many 
 feet. But he did not flinch. 
 
 The fierce blood of his pagan Welch 
 ancestry, thickened w^th later puritanic 
 determination, was up instantly, and this 
 usually quiet citizen had become dangerous. 
 
 " I'll split the head of the first man that 
 crosses that door! " he exclaimed, in unmis- 
 takeable tones, swinging his axe around his 
 head like a feather. 
 
 " Come on, you sneaking hounds ! " 
 shouted he, in growing excitement; "you 
 ain't around behind some poor fellow, this 
 time! you're in front of a man who means 
 death!" 
 
 The men hesitated. — They did not like 
 his looks. The door was narrow and one 
 certainly must go down if they per- 
 sisted. The crowd, also, w^ere leaving 
 them behind. 
 
Lawlessness, 303 
 
 "Let's go," said the foremost; "it ain't 
 worth while wasting time here." And they 
 jumped down the steps and ran after the 
 others, while Mr. Jones quietly lowered his 
 axe and put up the bar. 
 
 Many of the crowd remained unarmed, 
 only adding the momentum and courage 
 of numbers to the movement. 
 
 It was hardly nine o'clock when the mob 
 turned into the short street leading to the 
 South tenements. They had gone but 
 a short distance when, by one of those 
 checks communicated from front to rear 
 almost instantaneously, it stood still, as a 
 commanding voice rang out, in front: — 
 
 " Halt, there ! Stand — or we shall fire 
 into you! " 
 
 The men looked in each other's faces for 
 an instant, and then shouts arose: — "Get on 
 there!" — "Damn the police!" — "Run over 
 'em!"— "Kill them!" 
 
304 The Strike in the IB Mill. 
 
 Then the loud voice toward the head of 
 the street was again heard through the 
 crowd. It was that of George Brayton, 
 w^ho had returned to the village and joined 
 the reserve police force at this place during 
 the evening, and now stood on the upper 
 step of a house porch, and but a few paces 
 in front of the leading files of the mob; 
 being slightly above them, his voice could 
 be heard far down the street. 
 
 " As a magistrate, I order you to dis- 
 perse! " he said, " and if — " 
 
 He was here interrupted by the shouts of 
 the mob, that, however, did not yet ad- 
 vance. 
 
 " You get away — you, and your police! " 
 said a man called O'D.onnell, stepping from 
 the front ranks. " We are armed and mean 
 business, and are too many for you." 
 
 " Stop! " shouted Brayton, as a movement 
 began in the crowd. " We will not allow 
 
JLaivIessjiess, 305 
 
 you to injure people and property in this 
 town! We are here to prevent it, and we 
 shall do so!" 
 
 The police, perhaps twenty-five in num- 
 ber, a select body of men, vigorous of frame 
 and stout of heart, were formed across the 
 street, every man club in hand, and with a 
 revolver in his belt. Behind them might 
 have been about an equal number of special 
 police, and watchmen who had come from 
 the tenements and mill yard. The captain 
 
 of the police from M stood in advance 
 
 of his line, coolly looking into the angry 
 faces, not more than twenty paces in front 
 of him and glancing at Brayton. 
 
 The superintendent of the mill and INIr. 
 Alston stood on the sidewalk near him. 
 They had been conversing in the mill office 
 when a watchman told them that a mob 
 was starting for the tenements; and they 
 had gone across and joined Brayton and the 
 
3o6 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 police detachment a few minutes before, 
 with a desire to " bear a hand, and take 
 in all that there was going," as Alston 
 expressed it to the police captain. Alston 
 was not a man to be much troubled with 
 fears for his own safety, and, as Bray ton 
 was speaking, he stepped up to the men, 
 who had gradually worked forward, and 
 stood in advance of the crowd. 
 
 " Look here, men," he said in a loud 
 voice, as Brayton finished, "don't you make 
 damned fools of yourselves in this way! 
 You know me, — I've done all I could to 
 patch up matters. Now just drop this non- 
 sense and go home, like good fellows, and 
 come and see me, some of you, to-morrow, 
 and settle matters in a more rational wa}^" 
 
 "Yes," shouted a gigantic weaver; 
 "you're a good man, Mr. Alston; but 
 when your mill hires scabs we won't stand 
 it. For God's sake look out, sir — you'll be 
 
Lawlessness, 
 
 307 
 
 killed!" he added, seizing him suddenly, 
 and pushing him roughly across the side- 
 walk into a door-way. 
 
 For at that moment a man in the crowd, 
 apparently weary of the slight delay in 
 front, deliberately aimed his revolver at 
 Brayton and fired. The ball went wide 
 of the mark; but the discharge put an end 
 to farther parley, and the mob pressed 
 tumultuously upon the line of police. 
 
 "Forward, men! " sung out the captain; 
 "let them have it!" In a moment the 
 fight became general. 
 
 Just as the first shot was fired, Darragh, 
 who had arrived in town a few minutes be- 
 fore, and, learning of what was going for- 
 ward, had followed the mob and pushed 
 his way through it to the front, appealing at 
 every step to the men to give over their 
 mad purpose. As he reached the front he 
 shouted: " For God's sake, men, are you all 
 
3o8 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 crazy! The order will not stand by you, if 
 this goes on. Stop! stop!" It was too 
 late. His words were drowned in the 
 shouts and execrations of the suro:ino: 
 crowd. Carried forward and ahiiost off 
 his feet by the rush, he received, the next 
 instant, a crushing blow on- the head, and 
 dropped to the ground, insensible. 
 
 As Darragh forced his way to the front, 
 another man quietly sneaked from the rear 
 of the crowd, and crept up a side street — a 
 short, fat man, with a black beard. It was 
 the Anarchist, seeking cover, after the man- 
 ner of his kind. His gross face was pale 
 and flabby, and his labored breath and 
 rapid step, as he made good time up the 
 cross street, sufficiently indicated his heroic 
 determination to live yet longer for the 
 cause that supported him in vicious idle- 
 ness, and supplied him with beer. " Mein 
 Gott! but dot vash dancherous!" he mut- 
 
Lawlessness, 309 
 
 tered, as he heard the pistol-shots in his 
 rear. 
 
 Meanwhile, things were exceedingly 
 warm towards the head of the street. 
 
 The police, striking right and left, were 
 at first borne back by the weight and rush 
 of the mob, but, as every man, with the 
 quiet intrepidity that usually characterizes 
 them, kept his face to the front, and used 
 his heavy club with zeal and precision, they 
 soon began to hold and gain ground. 
 
 They were well supported by those in 
 their rear, who filled all breaches in the line. 
 Many of the leading spirits of the mob 
 were knocked down, and when the police 
 began to return the fusillade of the rioters 
 with their own revolvers, the crowd wavered, 
 began to run, and in an incredibly brief 
 time melted away. A few men in the 
 hands of the police and some others Ij'ing 
 in the street where they fell, were in a few 
 
3IO The St7'ike m the B Mill, 
 
 minutes all that were left of the formidable 
 body that just before was menacing the 
 peace of the town. 
 
 While the conflict was at its height, John 
 Vance, on his way home, had paused far 
 down the street, as he heard the angry roar 
 of the mob and noise of the combat. He 
 stood but a moment when several shots 
 admonished him of his dano^er, for he was 
 directly in the line of fire, and he was in 
 the act of turning to go when a 44-calibre 
 bullet struck him full in the breast. 
 
 He started convulsively, turned slowly 
 around, and, throwing up one hand, as if in 
 unconscious remonstrance, toward heaven, 
 he fell upon his face, dead. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AFTER THE EMEUTE. 
 
 T^HE police cleared the ground at once 
 of their wounded comrades, and se- 
 cured their prisoners, mostly men who had 
 been more or less injured. 
 
 Some of the strikers, but slightly hurt, 
 managed to get to their feet and take them- 
 selves off before they could be apprehended. 
 
 Darragh came to himself, leaning upon the 
 arm of the superintendent, who had recog- 
 nized him as he pushed through the crowd 
 at the beginning of the affray. 
 
 "My dear fellow," said the superinten- 
 dent, "I hope you're not much hurt; you 
 did your best to stop this, any way." 
 
 "No, I'm not much hurt," replied Dar- 
 
 3" 
 
312 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 ragh; "but, God help us, this is a terrible 
 piece of business." He rose to his feet 
 with difficulty, and staggered against the 
 wall of a building. " Yes, it is a bad bus- 
 iness," said the superintendent; "this is 
 what cQmes of 3^our wretched ' Associates 
 of Toil ' silliness. Perhaps you see it 
 now," he added, a little ungenerously, for 
 he was excited and angry at this senseless 
 outbreak. 
 
 Darragh looked at him with a dazed ex- 
 pression. 
 
 "I can't talk of it 3'et," he said, slowly; 
 " I must go and see that there be no more 
 mischief done." And, rallying himself, he 
 went down the street with uncertain steps. 
 
 "Who is this?" said a policeman, as he 
 turned a body over. " He is quite dead, 
 and no wonder," he added as he saw the 
 bullet wound over the heart. 
 
 As the body was turned, and the rays 
 
After the Emeute. 313 
 
 from a street-lamp shining through its shat- 
 tered glass, streamed over the handsome 
 face, its expression was peaceful and quiet, 
 as of one who sleeps. The captain came 
 up and stooped over the body. One hand 
 of the dead man was clutching sornething 
 white, and removing it from the stiffening 
 fingers, he found it to be an unopened letter, 
 and read the direction. " Mrs. John Vance," 
 he muttered. " Do you know a John Vance, 
 Mr. Malcolm ? " he said to the superinten- 
 dent, who had stopped by his side. 
 
 " Know him ? why, he was our best ma- 
 chinist. Good God, is this poor Vance!" 
 he exclaimed, kneeling by the body. 
 "Poor fellow, poor fellow! he never 
 meant to be in this thing! He told me, 
 only a day or two ago, that he was going 
 up to New Hampshire. He was sick of 
 the strike, and wished he had never been in 
 it." The superintendent's voice trembled. 
 
314 The Strike in the B Mill 
 
 "I liked that man," he added; "and 
 here is the end of him! " 
 
 "What shall be done with the body?" 
 said the captain; "and here is this letter; 
 it was in his hand." 
 
 "I will take it to his wife," said the 
 superintendent, still looking sadly at the 
 dead man; "and you will send the body 
 there. I will prepare her, poor woman! " 
 
 And at midnight poor Mary Vance sat 
 with staring eyes by the body of her hus- 
 band. An open letter lay upon the floor, 
 at her feet. It was only a few lines, writ- 
 ten by a hand that had oftener guided the 
 plough than the pen ; but how welcome 
 it would have been to her a few hours 
 before. 
 
 "Dear Mary," it ran; "I am pleased to 
 have you and John come. He can have 
 work with me this winter if he wants to. I 
 send you a money order for twenty-five 
 
After the J&meute, 315 
 
 dollars; it will be enough to bring you 
 here. Come right away and we'll talk 
 over things when you get here. 
 
 " Your afFec. father, 
 
 "Enoch Page. 
 " P. S. I want to see the children very 
 much." 
 
 Ellen Hardy's anxiety was not relieved 
 until late in the evening. Her father had 
 declined to heed the advice of Brayton, and 
 started out to find the Catholic priest and 
 see if they together could not reach some 
 of the men and avert the impending 
 trouble. 
 
 But the people they sought did not go to 
 the meeting at the hall, and had no part in 
 the disturbance. Their good intentions were 
 futile, and it was only after the riot that 
 they were able to do something in aid of 
 the injured. 
 
3i6 The Strike Z7i the B Mill, 
 
 When the minister reached home, Ellen 
 had just learned of what had happened. 
 
 " Take me down there, father," she said, 
 when told of Vance's death; '^ take me 
 down to see that poor Mrs. Vance. I want 
 to go now. She must not be alone in her 
 sorrow." 
 
 " Had you not better wait until the morn- 
 ing, my daughter; I have been there, and 
 everything possible has been done for her 
 to-night." 
 
 But Ellen insisted, and, know^ing that her 
 woman's instinct was a safer guide in such 
 matters than his own, he accompanied her 
 back through the rainy night, for the mist 
 had now merged into a steady rain. 
 
 It was a little after seven on the followinof 
 morning, and Ellen was about returning to 
 her home, leaving matters in the hands of 
 some kind women who were anxious to be 
 of use to their poor neighbor, when a knock 
 
After the Ameute, 317 
 
 came at the door, and Ellen opened it. 
 Hines and the other remaining member of 
 the finance committee stood in the entry. 
 Taking off his hat as Ellen appeared, Hines 
 asked if they could see Mrs. Vance. 
 
 "What do you wish with her?" said 
 Ellen. 
 
 " Well, Miss Hardy," replied Hines, who 
 knew her, " you'd do as well perhaps. 
 We're all feeling very bad about last night's 
 business, and poor Vance. We had a little 
 money in our hands, and wanted to give her 
 some of it to help her. The strike is over; 
 they'll not need it no more — the others. 
 You'll take it for her, ma'am, perhaps?" he 
 added. 
 
 He spoke in a low tone, but it had been 
 heard in the room; and, as Ellen hesitated 
 whether or not to accept what they offered, 
 the handle of the door was removed from 
 her grasp, and, turning, she found Mrs. 
 
3i8 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 Vance standing by her side in the door- 
 way. 
 
 " Come in," she said, in a constrained 
 tone to the men, taking no notice of Ellen, 
 who saw that her eyes had a strange, 
 wild gleam. " I want you in here a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 The men looked at her with pity and 
 some surprise. They hesitated and were 
 reluctant to enter, but as she stood holding 
 the door open for them to pass, with her 
 eyes fixed upon them, they seemed con- 
 strained to obey, and followed her to the 
 side of the bed where her husband's body 
 was stretched out, covered by the sheet, 
 awaiting its coffin. She removed the cloth 
 from the face, and turned to them. 
 
 " You must not come to me with money 
 — you ^Associates of Toil'!" she said. 
 The men looked at her, and then on the 
 cold white features of the dead man; sor- 
 
After the Emeute, 319 
 
 rowfully enough, for all had liked bright, 
 kind-hearted John Vance. 
 
 " Money will not undo this work of 
 yours, " she went on, still in the same un- 
 natural voice; "I wanted you to see it. If 
 it had not been for your order, he and I 
 would be happy together to-day." She 
 pointed to the face as she spoke. ^^Go!" 
 she added, in a voice fast stifling with tears, 
 and, falling on her knees by the bedside, 
 she buried her face in her hands, and cried 
 bitterly. 
 
 The poor men, who had meant her only 
 kindness, grew red and pale, then turned, 
 and, with a helpless, grieved look, went 
 slowly out of the room, forgetting their 
 errand, in the presence of her sorrow, and 
 cut to the heart by her w^ords; for they 
 could not feel that they were wholly un- 
 deserved. 
 
 George Bra3'ton found Ellen at home a 
 
320 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 few hours later, looking sad and weary from 
 her painful vigil of the night. 
 
 After their first greetings, he remarked 
 presently : " Well, at least, dear, the wretched 
 business of last night has ended the strike. 
 They are going into the mill, all hands; 
 where they still, most of them, can find 
 room — thanks to Malcolm and Alston." 
 
 " Yes," she said, " the women told me 
 that they were going back this afternoon. 
 But, George, there's much they cannot 
 repair or forget." 
 
 " Have you been all night at the Vances', 
 Ellen? " he asked, gently. 
 
 " Yes. George, that poor Mrs. Vance is 
 almost heart-broken. I can think of noth- 
 ing else but her sorrow. Her husband was 
 such a handsome, manly fellow." 
 
 " She will want money," said Brayton. 
 " Let me give you what is wanted." 
 
 " No. Mr. Alston sent me a check for 
 
Afte}' the l&meute, 321 
 
 her this morning, that is more than suffi- 
 cient. A committee of the ' Associates of 
 Toil ' came while I was there and offered 
 her money." 
 
 "That's like their impudence," said Bray- 
 ton. 
 
 "No, George, she answered. "These 
 men meant it kindly, I am sure; and they 
 were very, very sorry for her. But she 
 heard them, and herself refused. I thought 
 that she was insane for the moment, her 
 excitement was so great. She held them 
 responsible for his death." 
 
 "Well, so they are," said Bra3ton; "and 
 not so remotely either. I tell you, Ellen," 
 he added, warmly, " this thing has shown 
 me the utter hollowness of the pacific, law- 
 abiding utterances of this organization. 
 For, in the face of them, everywhere, their 
 members commit all sorts of excesses, and 
 they never expel them or mark their disap- 
 
322 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 probation of such conduct in the slightest 
 practical manner; and if any advantage 
 results to the order by reason of them, 
 which, fortunately, is seldom, they triumph- 
 antly use it, ignoring the means that pro- 
 duced the end." 
 
 "It is difficult, indeed," said Ellen, "to 
 see how they can escape responsibility if 
 they allow these things to be done." 
 
 "They remind me," Brayton went on, 
 " of the Indian Chiefs whom I once saw in 
 a council in Colorado after some massacres 
 had been committed by their tribe. They 
 told the army officers, with much smoking 
 of pipes and professions of the highest 
 esteem, 'that they couldn't help it; they 
 couldn't control their young men, who were 
 hot-blooded,' etc., etc. And on their per- 
 sons at the same moment were trinkets torn 
 from the murdered emigrant women, and 
 some of them rode stolen white men's 
 horses to the council." 
 
After the Emeute. 323 
 
 '' Well, George," she answered, " many 
 of these men are misled, I am sure, and do 
 not recognize wrong under a specious guise 
 of hio^h-soundino^ words." 
 
 The minister came in at this moment. 
 
 Like everybody in F , he was full of the 
 
 all-absorbing topic. 
 
 " Ah, George," he said, with a pleased 
 tone, " out of evil the Lord hath brought 
 good. How glad I am to be told that this 
 strike is over." 
 
 " Yes, it is over," said Brayton. 
 
 " For the sake of those who have suf- 
 fered," continued Mr. Hardy, " I am truly 
 thankful. George," he added, thoughtfully, 
 as he seated himself in his arm-chair, 
 " do you know that the wrong-headedness 
 of these people has been more than re- 
 deemed by other traits that have been 
 brought into strong relief by their hard- 
 ships .^ " 
 
324 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 "/ know it, father," said Ellen; "I have 
 seen it." 
 
 " If, George," continued the minister, 
 " you had seen, as we have, the noble self- 
 sacrifice and thoughtful care for others — 
 the strong feeling and quick sympathies 
 among them, you would have learned to 
 love them, even as I do." 
 
 "And yet," said George, "for the sake of 
 an absurdity, they were oppressively unjust 
 to the non-union men, and gave over their 
 own flesh and blood to suffering." 
 
 " It only shows," answered Mr. Hardy, 
 " that a single error may warp and destroy 
 the symmetry of the noblest natures. But 
 God," he added solemnly, " has for his own 
 wise purposes created us all weak and im- 
 perfect. We can only strive for the best. 
 Who among us can hope to attain it — 
 nay, even witness it — on this side of 
 heaven?" . . . 
 
After the E^neute, 325 
 
 As it is said that the long sustained fire 
 of artillery, by its repeated concussions, will 
 produce marked atmospheric changes in the 
 vicinity of the battle-field, so, figuratively 
 speaking, the revolver-shots of that night 
 seemed to clear the air and dispel the moral 
 miasma of obstinate persistence in wrong, 
 sustained by fear, and signalized by brutal- 
 ity and injustice, that had so long brooded 
 over this once peaceful community. To do 
 them justice, a large number of the strikers 
 could under no consideration have been 
 drawn into the riot, and were satisfied with 
 its summary suppression. None the less true, 
 however, was it that if it had succeeded in 
 its purpose, and the non-union men been 
 driven from their work, these same men 
 would have reaped such advantage as might 
 have resulted from it, and it would then have 
 been proclaimed far and wide that the " As- 
 sociates of Toil" had succeeded in this strike. 
 
326 The Strike in the B Mill 
 
 As things now stood, the leaders and 
 their lawless follow^ers abandoned the 
 game, and, indeed, a considerable number, 
 who had been, as they feared, recognized 
 that night, had decamped at once; some 
 others were in custody, and the main body 
 of the strikers, by common consent, treated 
 the strike as over. 
 
 No further regard was paid to their late 
 organization. It was as if it had never 
 been: and men and women once more 
 acted like free and independent citizens. 
 Quite illogically, but rather naturally, all 
 treated the failure of the rioters as a settle- 
 ment of the whole matter of the non-union 
 men, and also as stamping the order of the 
 "Associates of Toil" as a failure, and of no 
 
 further value, in F at least. Elsewhere 
 
 it miorht take care of itself It was no 
 longfer concern of theirs. 
 
 All remaining, applied for work at the 
 
After the £meute, 327 
 
 mill forthwith, and received it at the rates 
 of wages recently established, without any 
 allusion to the past, except in the cases of a 
 very few, who were believed to have been 
 concerned in some acts of violence. 
 
 The superintendent and Alston were not 
 influenced by the last events to alter their 
 policy with regard to this matter, and, in 
 spite of a little bluster on the part of some 
 of the corporation, who were naturally in- 
 censed at this incendiary attempt, the people 
 came back. 
 
 In the search, by the authorities, for those 
 known to be implicated in the riot, some 
 inquiry was made for Kohler the anarchist, 
 and it was ascertained that he had boarded 
 the train, going West, that passed through 
 F at ten on that evenino:. 
 
 He was seen there no more; but, a 
 week later, a copy of an Anarchist sheet 
 found its way into the hands of a German 
 
328 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 operative, who, entirely sick of such stuff, 
 for the present at least, pointed out its lead- 
 ing editorial to the superintendent with a grin. 
 
 It was a poorly printed little seven-by- 
 nine publication, full of the most inconceiv- 
 able rubbish, and the article in question, 
 being freely translated to Mr. Malcolm, ran 
 something in this wise: — 
 
 "The strike against oppression in F 
 
 has failed, because of the pusillanimity of 
 the oppressed ones. The Brother Kohler, 
 there for many weeks, was seeking them to 
 inspire with his eloquence. He it was who 
 them against the robber-baron-castle led. 
 Heroically he himself exposed, and dared 
 the death from bloody police murderers. 
 But all in vain. They would have left him 
 
 to alone die. He has the dust of F 
 
 from his grand feet shaken, and them left to 
 grovel before the oppressor. There let 
 them lie. Bah!" 
 
After the E7neute, 329 
 
 In a few days, the town resumed its 
 usual appearance. Boycotts were all "off." 
 The non-union men and those who had 
 been " Associates of Toil " fraternized, as 
 though there never had been the least feel- 
 ing existing between them. The greater 
 and minor industries of the town were re- 
 sumed, and the strike in the B Mill 
 
 became only a matter of history. 
 
 ffut its baleful effects could not be read- 
 ily effaced. Many a poor operative and 
 struggling family had good reason to wish 
 that it had never been. 
 
 Some adults and a number of poor little 
 children, had succumbed to the suffer- 
 ing and want of that wretched time; 
 while, from the effects of insufficient 
 food, and the lack of the common com- 
 forts of life then endured, some could 
 not rally, and the succeeding winter was 
 full of sickness, that brought death and 
 
330 The Strike in the B AlilL 
 
 sorrow into many families. The business 
 of the village had received serious injury; 
 v^hile the great corporation itself, left be- 
 hind in the close competitive struggle w^ith 
 its rivals, was obliged to enter upon a 
 course of careful management, with re- 
 duced working and production, felt alike by 
 its stockholders and by the operatives, — 
 and the outcome of it all is not yet. 
 
 Poor Mary Vance buried her husband, 
 and, with her children, went, a broken- 
 hearten woman, to her old home, there to 
 endure for many years a life embittered by 
 the terrible events of that night. 
 
 Sitting b}^ the door one summer evening, 
 her father passed, on his way from the field. 
 He was an old man, somewhat bowed by 
 the heavy labor of a lifetime. But his eye 
 was clear, and in the tired look on his face 
 there was no shadow of discontent. Lead- 
 
After the Em euie. 331 
 
 ing an even and calm life among the fields 
 and forests of his native mountains, his 
 struo-orle for a livelihood had never been 
 with his fellow-men, but with the yielding 
 and generous soil, aided by the kindly forces 
 of nature. Far from the bustle and rush of 
 town life, he needed its meretricious excite- 
 ment as little as he longed for its unsatisfy- 
 ing pleasures. And Mary thought, as she 
 looked at him, how much more life had 
 been to him than to those others among 
 whom she had lived so many years; and, 
 with unutterable longing, she thought of her 
 poor husband, who had nearly reached this 
 place. 
 
 "Ah, how happy we should have been 
 here together! — oh, John — John! " she 
 murmured, with her face in her hands. 
 And her little boy ran from his play 
 to see what was the matter with poor 
 mamma. . . . 
 
332 The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 " Waal, mother," observed Mr. Brad- 
 shaw, when he understood that the strike 
 was over, and had, with great interest, lis- 
 tened to the particulars of the riot, " them 
 fellers didn't make much out of their darned 
 tomfoolery, I cal'late. Ye'U remember what 
 I've allers said baout these blamed "Asso- 
 ciates of Toil." I expect Eb'U be a-gittin' 
 a bullet-hole in his little carcass in a few 
 days, ef he don't quit strikin.' Naow, ez I 
 wuz a sayin' " — 
 
 " You wuz always a sayin' a sight too 
 much," interrupted Mrs. Bradshaw, inci- 
 sively. " If I was 3^ou, I'd take that there 
 candle and go to bed." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 A BOUT a week after the conclusion of 
 ^ ^ the strike, Alston was sitting with his 
 wife in his library, and with them was Mr. 
 Phillips, who had been beguiled from his 
 usual evening haunts by that little lady's 
 invitation to dine a second time with them. 
 
 An incorrigible club-man, and a bachelor 
 of so many years' standing that the ladies 
 had long since given him up, even as he 
 had them, — he rarely went into society, and 
 was usually left in peace to his whist at the 
 club, or an occasional little dinner where 
 only gentlemen appeared. But he had 
 chosen in this case to break over his rule 
 and accept her invitation; so, confirming 
 333 ' 
 
334 ^^^^ Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 her preconceived opinion of his sound judg- 
 ment and great discrimination. He made 
 himself ver}^ agreeable during dinner, and 
 Mrs. Alston felt in herself the consciousness 
 of a new social power as this ancient re- 
 cluse, hitherto considered impervious to 
 woman's fascination, unbent to her efforts to 
 make things pleasant. When, to her sugges- 
 tion that they adjourn to the library where 
 the gentlemen could smoke without depriv- 
 ing her of their society, Mr. Phillips gal- 
 lantly responded that there were some 
 women for whom one could almost abjure 
 the use of the Indian weed forever. She 
 felt that this inveterate woman-hater was, 
 indeed, at last conquered, and led the way 
 to the library with the air of a genuine little 
 queen of hearts. 
 
 Alston had learned to like Mr. Phillips 
 for his innate kindness of heart, and was 
 delighted to see him thaw out in this man- 
 
Conclusion. 335 
 
 ner and the party was a very pleasant one. 
 The conversation during dinner had been 
 varied, but, as they lighted their cigars, it 
 drifted around to the old topic of the event 
 that had recently occupied so much of their 
 attention. 
 
 "Are you not greatly relieved, Mr. Phil- 
 lips," said Mrs. Alston, " that our wretched 
 strike has ended?" 
 
 " I am, indeed," he responded. 
 
 "And," she continued, "it must be so 
 gratifying to you that your kindness and 
 long suffering with the people has enabled 
 the most of them to regain their old places, 
 and be preserved from want." 
 
 " Madam," replied the president, urbanely, 
 as he bowed to his hostess, " 3^ou do me far 
 too much honor; Alston, here," he added, 
 waving his cigar towards her husband, 
 " backed by you, was, I suspect, the great 
 philanthropist of our little drama." 
 
33^ The Strike in the B AlilL 
 
 Mr. Phillips leaned back in his chair, and 
 smoked industriously. 
 
 " And," persisted Mrs. Alston, laughing, 
 " backed by you, too, with advice and with 
 money, as I happen to know." 
 
 Mr. Phillips looked a little annoyed. 
 
 " Yes," went on Mrs. Alston. " I know 
 all about your noble generosity, Mr. Phil- 
 lips. It is idle for you to attempt denial." 
 
 Mr. Phillips looked at Alston with an air 
 of patient disapproval. 
 
 " You married men," he said, relapsing, 
 in his disgust, into his usual concise style, 
 " keep nothing; — unsafe — very." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Phillips," said Alston, laugh- 
 ing in a rather abashed way, " if you were 
 married, you would have some consideration 
 for a fellow; — for these w^omen are the 
 most insidious, wheedling" — 
 
 " Ned," interrupted Mrs. Alston, " how 
 dare you! Mr. Phillips," she added, turn- 
 
Conclusion, 
 
 337 
 
 ing to that gentleman, over whose face a 
 sardonic smile might be seen spreading, like 
 the light of the rising moon upon a rugged 
 landscape, " Mr. Phillips, I assure you that 
 our husbands willt^W us everything, whether 
 we want to hear it or not. Fortunately, we 
 get a little grain out of all the chaff." 
 
 Alston smiled and coughed significantly, 
 but wisely held his peace. 
 
 " I think," continued Mrs. Alston, with a 
 radiant smile, " that Mr. Phillips now un- 
 derstands the matter perfectly ; and I am 
 quite sure that he will forgive my innocent 
 knowledge of his kindness." 
 
 "Oh, certainly!" returned Mr. Phillips, 
 politely, exchanging his late peculiar smile 
 for one of less equivocal meaning; " cer- 
 tainly, if you will so characterize the thing. 
 But," he added, " suppose we change the 
 subject. The fellows all fairly at it again .^" 
 he asked of Alston. 
 
338 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 "Yes," said Alston, " they are; and they 
 are apparently very glad of it." 
 
 A servant entered at this moment. 
 
 " Ned," said Mrs. Alston, " there is a 
 gentleman downstairs — a Mr. Darragh — 
 who wishes to see you. Is it the one whom 
 you have so often told me of ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes!" said Alston. "I asked him 
 to come and see me some time, as I wished 
 to talk with him. Would you mind his 
 joining us here, Mr. Phillips? I think you 
 would be interested in him, for he is a very 
 manly and intelligent fellow." 
 
 "Delighted, I'm sure!" said the pres- 
 ident. 
 
 "I wish," said Mrs. Alston, "that I, too, 
 might meet him, of whom I've heard so 
 much good. But I must be at the Brown- 
 ing class this evening, and I hear the car- 
 riage now. Do you like Browning, Mr. 
 Phillips.^" 
 
Conclusion, 339 
 
 "Browning!" answered that gentleman, 
 with a gasp. "Ah, well, not exactly. 
 Something of a poet, but a little ob- 
 scure." 
 
 "Ah, you would understand him better 
 if you studied him, I'm sure." 
 
 " I fear not. Life is but short, my dear 
 madam." 
 
 Mrs. Alston laughed. "Well, good- 
 bye," she said, giving him her hand; "I 
 shall have all your conversation at second 
 hand, by and by, whether interesting or 
 otherwise. Ned can't help rehearsing it to 
 me, poor fellow! " And, shaking her finger 
 at her husband, who ventured no reply but 
 a grimace, she disappeared. 
 
 " You have heard of the president of 
 
 the B , Mr. Darragh ? " said Alston, as 
 
 Darragh entered the room, a moment after. 
 " He knows of you, rest assured." 
 
 Darragh bowed to Mr. Phillips, and ex- 
 
340 The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 pressed his regret that he had called at 
 perhaps an inopportune time. 
 
 " Not the least in the world," said Alston, 
 heartily; "we are both very glad to see 
 you. Won't you have a cigar?" he added, 
 handing him the box. 
 
 " Thank you," said Darragh, '^ but I 
 rarely smoke." 
 
 Mr. Phillips attentively regarded this 
 man, w^ho had at first exercised so much 
 
 power in F , and latterly so utterly 
 
 failed in his influence. He saw at once 
 that this failure could have arisen from no- 
 lack in the man himself. For his high- 
 mindedness and honesty were to be read 
 in his face; and he realized more plainly 
 than before the magnitude of the evil that 
 would not permit men to follow such a 
 leader when he sought to extricate them 
 from a false position. 
 
 Darragh's expression was very sober, and 
 
Co7ichision, 341 
 
 his face looked worn and sad, as of one 
 who had been ill. 
 
 " I hope," said Alston, " that you have 
 been none the worse for that unlucky crack, 
 Mr. Darragh?" 
 
 "Oh, no," replied Darragh; "I soon 
 got over that. I wish I could put some 
 other things aside as easily." 
 
 " I wanted," Alston went on, " to have a 
 little talk with you about matters, now the 
 
 thing is over, in F . I have thought a 
 
 good deal about this labor question, and 
 very seriously, too. Naturally, I feel that 
 you regard it from a different standpoint, 
 and I wanted the benefit of your views. I 
 don't believe Mr. Phillips will mind joining 
 in a little discussion of this matter with us." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 " Shall be glad to hear you both," said 
 Mr. Phillips, lighting a fresh cigar. " Fire 
 
 away ! " 
 
342 The Strike iii the B MilL 
 
 Darragh looked at him as if expecting 
 something farther, but saw no signs of it 
 in his composed and rather saturnine ex- 
 pression; and, as Alston looked inquiringly 
 at himself, he said, presently: — 
 
 " I do not think I can give you much 
 light. I am in a very confused and hope- 
 less state of mind about these matters, 
 just now." 
 
 "Well," said Alston, "that is just the 
 time when the mind gets down to its true 
 bearings, after all. We have both, as it 
 were, slipped our old moorings and are 
 afloat, looking for an anchorage. Some of 
 our former prejudices and fixed ideas are 
 sloughed off, and we can look at things 
 more impartially, each with perhaps a little 
 different bent." 
 
 "Yes," said Darragh, with a sigh; "that 
 is true — there is something in that." 
 
 " All right," said Alston. " Now, to 
 
Conclusion, ^ 343 
 
 begin with, allow me to suggest that, in my 
 judgment, while the laboring-man may, in 
 some cases, be in rather a bad fix, yet 
 all the rumpus he is making is wrong, par- 
 adoxical as this may seem." 
 
 " I confess," said Darragh, " that I don't 
 quite follow you." 
 
 "Well, hold on till I get a little farther. 
 Now he is going in for more wages ever}' 
 time. When he has been kept too low, he 
 usually gets an advance: that's all right. 
 But he will presently, perhaps, try for a little 
 more still — your order proposes to keep 
 him at it, I presume. Well, here we are, all 
 sorts of people, rich and poor, with our 
 money invested in manufacturing stocks. 
 We must have some income from them. 
 We are willing to divide with the operative, 
 but we can't give him all. We must live 
 as well as he. Perhaps 3^ou are not aware 
 of our difficulty in squeezing out small div- 
 
344 '^^^^ Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 idends? At all events, matters are in that 
 state that when our friend tries it ao^ain he 
 cannot have it. Then what?" 
 
 Alston stopped. He had been speaking 
 rapidly, and now relighted his cigar and 
 looked at Darragh. 
 
 "I don't know," said Darragh. "But I 
 did not quite realize that manufacturing, 
 with all the protection it had enjoyed, was 
 at such a low ebb." 
 
 " It is at a very low ebb," returned 
 Alston. " We have only a home mar- 
 ket. Our wages are already so high 
 that, with the cost of other things, we 
 cannot compete abroad with England. As 
 I understand it," he continued, turning to 
 Mr. Phillips, " we can export no cloth 
 profitably?" 
 
 " Not a yard," responded Mr. Phillips, 
 briefly. 
 
 " Is not the home market," asked Darragh, 
 
Conclusion, 345 
 
 after a pause, In which he again waited for 
 further remark from the president, but was 
 again disappointed, " is not the home mar- 
 ket enough for you with no competi- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " No," said Alston, " it is, not. For the 
 truth, as I begin to see it, is, that manufac- 
 turing is being overdone here, and very 
 much so too. It was ver}^ profitable once, 
 and so increased out of all reason. The war 
 gave it a false and pernicious impetus. And 
 it seems difficult for it to get down to its right 
 proportions. But it must get there. Mean- 
 while we are struggling along, tr3'ing to 
 pay a little interest on our costly plants, and 
 here is the operative bouncing around with- 
 out the slightest idea of the economic con- 
 dition of thinofs, and clamorino: for more 
 pay." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Alston," said Darragh, 
 " sometimes, you have admitted that they 
 
34^ The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 ouo^ht to have it and have voted to o^ive it 
 them." 
 
 " Yes," said Alston. '^ But that is not 
 what I speak of. If such cases were all, 
 and if a fair increase were all they asked, 
 I should have little to say on that head. 
 But you have an organization kept alive by 
 a few interested agitators, whose cry is that 
 you are to go on and on, getting more pay 
 and working less hours, ad infinitum. Such 
 concessions as are obtained are only treated 
 as instalments of the grand plan of increase 
 and change, by these men, many of 
 whom are in receipt of good salaries, and 
 find agitation, and the keeping alive of the 
 organization with all its fallacious hopes, 
 personally profitable." Observing that Dar- 
 ragh colored a little, Alston added quickly: 
 " I do not class you among these men, Mr. 
 Darragh. I am informed that you have lost 
 far more than you have gained by your 
 
Conclusion, 347 
 
 advocacy of this cause; and I certainly 
 believe you to have been entirely honest 
 when you did so." 
 
 The slight look of displeasure on Dar- 
 ragh's face gave place to one of deep 
 dejection as he replied: "You only do me 
 justice there, Mr. Alston. But I do not so 
 much care for this. I would gladly be 
 misunderstood myself, if I could believe, as 
 formerly, that my friends were on the right 
 track with this organization. But I am now 
 thoroughly convinced that it is all a mis- 
 take, and a very mischievous one too. I 
 have given up my membership in the 
 order." 
 
 "I am glad of that," returned Alston, 
 warmly. " Allow me to shake hands with 
 you," he added, laughing, and suiting the 
 action to the word, " as being a man and a 
 brother once more. While you were shut 
 in by the walls of that concern, I was 
 
348 The Sti'ike iii the B Mill, 
 
 always puzzled to know whether 3'ou were 
 above or below me. Certainly we were 
 not equals. Now we are so in every sense, 
 and I rejoice in it, for I have liked you well, 
 my friend." 
 
 Alston spoke these words with a kind 
 emphasis, that went to Darragh's heart. 
 
 " Mr. Alston," he said, slowly and with 
 feeling, "the last few weeks have demon- 
 strated to me that I have been immensely 
 misled in my former estimate of some men. 
 I looked upon all men of wealth and 
 social position as utterly indifferent to the 
 fate of those who did not possess these 
 advantages; as ready to grind the faces of 
 the poor, and careless of their wants and 
 discomforts. I now know that true and 
 large-hearted men are to be found every- 
 where: that we are all united in the great 
 brotherhood of the race, and that it is 
 wrong as well as useless to array a part of 
 
Conclusion. 349 
 
 the people against the other, merely because 
 of accidental differences of material posses- 
 sions with their incidental advantages." 
 
 " By Jove, you are right," said Alston. 
 " We are all run in the same mould; and in 
 this country, certainly, it is rather ridiculous 
 for people to call themselves better than 
 others, or hold themselves aloof on account 
 of a little money. What do you say, Mr. 
 Phillips?" he asked of that gentleman, 
 w^ho, apparently oblivious of the conversa- 
 tion, w^as curled in his easy-chair, and, with 
 eyes closed, smoked meditatively. 
 
 " Great rot," — murmured Mr. Phillips 
 calmly, without opening his eyes, or taking 
 his cigar from his mouth. " My father," 
 he added, with apparent relish, " peddled 
 peanuts on a corner. I got to importing 
 them m3'self." 
 
 He relapsed into silence as the others 
 laughed. 
 
35 o The Strike in the B MilL 
 
 " What Pm getting at, Mr. Darragh, is 
 this," continued Alston, presently; "these 
 men can get no such wages as they want; 
 in the future they are going to get less. 
 It's inevitable, in spite of the silly talk of 
 the paid prophets of the ^Associates of 
 Toil.' More than that, they are going to 
 lose employment altogether, in many cases. 
 Now, the truth is, there are too many wage- 
 earners in this country, and they must begin 
 to drop it. They must leave the employ- 
 ment before it leaves them." 
 
 " What," asked Darragh, "are they to do, 
 and where are they to go? " 
 
 "Well," replied Alston, "they are to 
 pick up the rake and take hold of the 
 plough-handle; that's what they are to do; 
 the broad lands of this country furnish the 
 place for them to go to. Let them, in a 
 word, turn farmers. We have too much 
 constructive and too little productive work 
 
Conclusion, 351 
 
 in this country. We want less cloth and 
 more corn; fewer railroads, and more farm 
 produce to carry over them. — There would 
 be better dividends all around, I think, if 
 this were so. We have been wrong end 
 foremost a good deal of the time, in our 
 hurry to get ahead." 
 
 " Some men tell us," said Darragh, as 
 Alston paused, " that there is no land left 
 for the poor man here, that it has been all 
 taken by land-grabbing railroad companies, 
 and others." 
 
 "They be damned!" interrupted Alston. 
 "' Excuse me, but whenever a man wants to 
 introduce some socialistic or agrarian ideas 
 into a free country, he must needs begin by 
 being an alarmist." 
 
 "Then," said Darragh, "you believe 
 there is land enough left for us yet?" 
 
 "Why, just see here! " exclaimed Alston; 
 " I venture to say that there is uncleared 
 
352 The Strike i?i the B Mill, 
 
 land enough in New England to accommo- 
 date half of the workmen now in our mills 
 and shops, not to speak of hundreds and 
 thousands of cleared farms that may be 
 bought or rented for a song. As to the 
 West, there has been some land-grabbing, 
 no doubt, but it does not lie in the mouth 
 of any men, for a long time yet, to say 
 they can find no land to till in this country, 
 if they want it." 
 
 '' But these men do not know how to 
 farm," said Darragh; "who shall teach 
 them?" 
 
 "Well," said Alston, "the science of 
 agriculture seemed to come very easily to 
 the early races of men, and I do not know 
 that we are more particularly stupid than 
 they. It needs hard work to get a living 
 out of a farm, just as it does out of a loom 
 or spinning-jenn}'. But the independence 
 of the one life is fir ahead of the other. A 
 
Conclusion, 
 
 353 
 
 farming community is the happiest in the 
 world. I think old Tom Jefferson's early 
 views on that subject were sounder than 
 those of his dotage. Now, Mr. Darragh 
 cannot a good many of these people be 
 induced to change their occupation? 
 That's my idea." 
 
 " I'm inclined to think," said Darrao-h, 
 " that if you could find land for them, it 
 would be difficult to persuade them to go." 
 
 " Not surprised at that," interrupted Mr. 
 Phillips, in his moderate tones; "never 
 cauo^ht on to the romance of farming-, 
 myself" 
 
 "Well," continued Darragh, with a 
 smile, " odd as it may seem, many of 
 these people working in a hot mill or 
 shop all day, and living in almost unen- 
 durable tenements, wouldn't see it, either. 
 The real difficulty would lie in persuading 
 them to the change, particularly on account 
 
354 ^'^^^ Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 of their habit of gregariousness, as it were. 
 They are accustomed to be in crowds, and 
 they could not bear to be alone, even with 
 a snug little farm and comparative inde- 
 pendence. And, then, if any were inclined, 
 they wouldn't know where to turn for land, 
 or how to get it." 
 
 " Of course," said Alston, pondering, 
 with many puffs of his cigar, " of course, 
 the matter is only half thought out yet; but 
 it has occurred to me that if some rich men 
 would take hold of it and secure land, not 
 necessarily all in the West, but here, there, 
 and everywhere, — new lands, and old, cheap 
 farms, — and arrange to let these people 
 have them on such terms of sale or rental 
 as they preferred, the first step would be 
 taken. It does not look to me as abso- 
 lutely impracticable. Does it to you, Mr. 
 Phillips?" 
 
 '' Rather good as a philanthrophic 
 
Conclusion, 355 
 
 scheme," responded Mr. Phillips; "but 
 should hardly recommend it as a safe 
 investment of capital." 
 
 " No," said Alston, " not in the way of 
 heavy pecuniary return. But you could 
 get most of the money back. What was 
 lost would, in quite a different sense, still 
 be a good investment. I am willing to 
 subscribe largely. And," he added, with 
 a laugh, " I believe I could make you come 
 down pretty heavily too." 
 
 " Don't know," said Mr. Phillips, leaning 
 forward, and brushing some cigar ashes from 
 the lapel of his dress-coat: "have made an 
 ass of myself before now; may again." 
 
 Darragh began to be much interested. 
 He had been so much in the habit of re- 
 garding the laboring man as a fixture, and 
 only to be aided in the place where he 
 found himself, that he was startled by the 
 idea of changing his status altogether, — 
 
35^ The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 putting him where the question of hours 
 and income would be largely determined 
 by himself. In a dim way, he had hereto- 
 fore realized the fact that there were as"ri- 
 culturalists; but they had been classed in 
 his mind with the capitalists of the world. 
 He now began to see that there might be 
 room for many wage-earners in this better 
 state of life, if they had the energy and 
 pluck to undertake it. 
 
 "It would," he said to Alston, "be a 
 noble enterprise to deplete the ranks of 
 the wage-earners, and make them inde- 
 pendent, self-supporting producers. But it 
 would be a stupendous one." 
 
 " Not so much trouble about it, either," 
 returned Alston; " the thing has often been 
 done before. All the colonization of new 
 countries has been simply this, after all, 
 under somewhat different conditions. And 
 it is only the other day that I saw that some 
 
Conclusion, 357 
 
 people in Canada were about purchasing 
 a tract of 35,000 acres, to settle some of 
 their people, who had become dissatisfied 
 with their lot as mill operatives in the 
 United States. A great deal could be 
 selected by agents, for preemption, with us." 
 
 " How are we to start the people ? " asked 
 Darragh, " after you begin to have land for 
 them?" 
 
 "Well," said Alston, "such men as you 
 would have to preach it up to them. They 
 would take no stock in what I said, thanks 
 to the class distinctions and animosities 
 created by your labor organizations." 
 
 " I think," interrupted Darragh, " that you 
 are not quite just to the 'Associates of Toil ' 
 there. It has never been their intention to 
 do that. The equality of all men is one of 
 their leading tenets of faith." 
 
 "I don't care what they teach," responded 
 Alston; "the practical effect of the organi- 
 
35 8 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 zation is diametrically opposed to such doc- 
 trine. They can hold their men together in 
 no other way. But I like your candor in 
 defending them under the circumstances." 
 
 Darragh put this aside by a little motion 
 of the hand, as he rose. 
 
 " Perhaps/' he said, " it would be fairer 
 to say that they find men unequal, and pro- 
 fess to be able to restore the equality." 
 
 "Yes," said Alston. "But there they 
 make a great blunder, it appears to me. In 
 telling men that they form an inferior class, 
 in a country like this, you degrade them. 
 You impart a sense of injury where none 
 has been inflicted. Until lately, a journey- 
 man carpenter has felt himself to be the 
 peer of the millionnaire; and so he was, in 
 every essential. Worth has been the stand- 
 ard of manhood, and money only an inci- 
 dental. Your organizations are changing 
 all this. They falsely assume an inequality 
 
Co n clusio n. 359 
 
 as existing, that they may have an addi- 
 tional text from which to preach discontent, 
 and kick up a row generally, all along the 
 line. They create an evil sentiment, that 
 they have no power to allay. — But you are 
 not going," he added, as Darragh remained 
 standing. 
 
 "Yes," he answered; "I must catch my 
 train." 
 
 "Are you going clean away?" asked 
 Alston. " I want to see you again. If I 
 had the aid of a few men like you, it does 
 seem as if the work I speak of might be 
 really started. I am willing to put time and 
 money into it, and get others to do so too — 
 Mr. Phillips, here, for example, as before 
 observed." 
 
 Mr. Phillips deigned no further notice of 
 this than a slight grunt across the end of 
 his cigar. 
 
 " I shall return to this vicinity in a few 
 
^6o The Strike in the B Mill, 
 
 days," said Darragh. "Meanwhile, I v/ill 
 talk over what you suggest, with others of 
 our people, who are wiser than I. If j^ou 
 can do anything towards it, perhaps we can 
 take hold with you. I confess I like the 
 idea, if it be feasible. If the wage-earners 
 can be thinned out, it ought to be better for 
 those who go and those that remain." 
 
 "Well, good-luck to you! "said Alston, 
 as Darragh took his leave of them, Mr. 
 Phillips rising and shaking him silently but 
 very heartily by the hand. 
 
 He had been much impressed by Dar- 
 ragh's manners and good-sense, and, after 
 he had gone, remarked to Alston that he 
 seemed a very excellent type of the work- 
 ing-man. 
 
 " Yes," said Alston. " I have rarely met 
 a man I liked more." 
 
 "You're rather cutting us out of our labor 
 by your little scheme," further remarked 
 
Conclusion, 361 
 
 the president, walking to and fro, with his 
 hands in his pockets. 
 
 " I know it," replied Alston. " But there 
 is no question that wage-earners are now 
 too numerous for their own good. And, 
 reasoning inductively to that cause, we must 
 be willing to seek further for a remedy 
 That is what the economists teach us." 
 
 " They," said the president, yawning, 
 " only give us a set of definitions, after all." 
 
 " Well, definitions are a great help," said 
 Alston. " They give us logical methods, 
 and help us to the truth in that way." 
 
 Mr. Phillips looked at his watch. Sud- 
 denly he asked, " What's become of all the 
 farmers' sons? why don't they do the 
 farming? " 
 
 "Oh!" answered Alston, "they have been 
 leaving the farms for fifty years past. 
 Flocking, some to the West, but more to 
 our own centres of population. A few 
 
362 The Strike in the B Mill. 
 
 have bettered themselves, but the greater 
 number have become w^age-earners — they 
 and their children. And the farms are run- 
 ning out and being abandoned." 
 
 Mr. Phillips pitched the end of his cigar 
 into the open grate, and stood looking dow^n 
 at his boots for a moment wdth a thoughtful 
 air. 
 
 "You think," he finally said, "that it's 
 time for the tide to turn? — Well, on the 
 w^hole, I'm not half sure that you're wrong." 
 
It 
 • i