Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 41, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 31 March 1888 — Page 3

JCBRETON

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?A Romance of New England Life.

»A. (ir8 BY CHARLES J. BELLAMY,

^7.^ Editor of the

Throe men, laborers, if coarse, soiled clothes and dull, heavy tread mean anything, have come down the street and now stand leaning against the tall iron fence. "Why shouldn't wo see the show, boys?" continued tho long whiskered man, with on •unpleasant laugh. 'It's our work that's payin' for it, I guess. How long do you think it would take you, Jack, to scrimp enough together to buy one of them candlesticks! Hullo—there's the bom himself," and he thrust his band inside the iron pickets to point out a portly gentleman whose bald bead was fringed with silver white hair. Mr. Breton had paused a moment before the window. "Gome, let's go on," urged tho man with a clay pipe, edging off a little into th»ahadow "hrfll see us and mad." "What's tho odds if be does?*1 and the speaker frowned at the rich man from between tho pickets. "He cant g* help no cheaper than us, can he# That's one good pint of bcin' way down, .you can't tumble a mite. But just look at him, boy* tig watch chain and gold bowed specs a-daqglin'. See tbe thumbs of bis white bands stuck in his vest pocket and him an stnilin' ns if he never •did nobody a wrong in liis whole (blessed lifcv There now is aoinetliiif purtiec,ttlhough."

The old gentleman movod 'unsuspecting*tf «side and revealed a young girl, largo a ad a it at a as S he or a pale blue silk, with delicate ruffles at her I half bared elbow aid at-bor neck, kissing the •warm white akin. "Well, Isuppoaesuy girV-Uone might

look

just as good in sudh clothes as them. B' it she wouldn't ®o more apeak to-June than as it the girl wasn't human. Awl as for a. pour man, he might:poor his litoeut for her.- party face and -she wouldn't give him ulok. A few dollars aud« sultof««HthM» akos the odds." "WhKttiohoitenghih'atTVsnidthe tall man, taking bis dny.pipo from his mouth. "Cant you -mot Thoiw* tho boy stanAii' list beyond 'her. Mretutfa young hopsfal. VothU'llam tllum tbe Uggext kind of game for hor,I iralikrte." "I newer seen him bMOr/e," remarked fhu third mail, reverentially. "I s'pose beliibe our bees some,flay." "Htfs'lwenMo ooUegWT»..liBhin\ up his wit*. Talnft jgoln'* to be mo «ary as it wn*« to grind the pew. ?kQld-«MMi now didn't needno extra «*hoolia*." "I*rint so Euro no#?1

Wl'fl

the tall eson,

blowing out a wreath' *f smoke. "Tbe hoy looks onore^ltimt aboatiJhis mouth and eyes. See titan look at the {jfrl I cal'late she dent think Ihtfs. vsry brnL" "Waiti till Hie g«W»bifi heel on thenecksof a thiusandkif WiStJlt father has. Wait till he.flnds wo nint grat, a penny ahead, nor a sps&'Of' M1*oarth for our own, but lie atq his caorcy. "Bee how kind he'll be then. TaiMt .thowaturo Ofctiie beast, Bill Itogurs."

BUI &og«a tooktatiiung look at the slight form»ofitbe mill-owaor's son—at his freslh, young .faoe and smail, pleasant black eyes. "I wishitheJml.had.ia. chance. I believe I'd trust liim, Graves. Hadnt we better 3m startin'f JTtbo. mootln'will begin purty aoam

What's tk»\ hurryf Curran is always late himself. .Woll,. coasosiloiig, then." Just .nofr.Mr. Breton is leaning lightly «n the anantAl near oueof his pet heirlooms— the steer* candelabra. Near him stands a tall, -elegisKtJy tfoTmcd .gentleman, only a triilo past saddittoage, wlws© clear chiseled month has the ravreet,hint^of a smilo on it, as if he had jmcttsa&l something bright. It was a smile he always «rore when ho had spoken—a smilo

I

with aa to .it. But Mr. Ellings worth his. hat on the floor and was turning dejectedhad to make that smilo do good service, far he never ttatjghod. The funniest jokes had been told iiim-rU»o«ao«t ridiculous situations described *«.him-tbat ho only smiled. "What am I goigg to do with the boyf Mr. Bruten% voice was alwaj-st loud and «harp as If onaking itwelf beard altove the soaring at Ihlsimills. **Why, marry him to ^jrour daugtater JiheJBWb thing. Eh I Philipr

marry him to your daughter lAf Jlnt Utimt*

I WoaM she be angry, praad and rtwerved MshowMl PhiUp shotaf^ve glance at JBertbaswshesat at the pi Idly turning •over tbe music sbeeta. But the girl might ,i»ot ham heard, not a shade of expression •changed tat ber face. It might as well have "been the wercee of the Nile they were 4i» •ciMsing fiur as she waa coacrrned, apparently, but a* «he pressed her white hand aa the musk) sheet to keep it opea, her lover* «jes softened at the flash of their betrothal diam^-Hl. "1 should thiak your hands must be pretty dMl alrxwiy," suggested Mr. E3iiogsworth in the low saMoth tone, as much apart of his «tyk as the cut of his black ooiu, "with a thoMami ti .'am«able beini^i down ta yewr factories. And by the way, I hear that Labor is claiming its right*, with a big

Aslf anybody had any rights, except hj accident" "Sk«frt«*l as ever, Etttagawurth,* said the mill owner with all a practice! man* di*aste tor a thing so destructive to industry. "Bat ws I get along easily enongh with my help it aaaeksand trempe would only keep onto* the way though there Is sane kiwi el aa •agitation meeting to-night somebody is jnisfsg the .mischief among them. I wish I 'knew who it waa," and Mr. Brstoo looked npn|ie^My aroand the room if he

MILLS.1

Springfield (Mass.)

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A PICTURE AND ns CRITICS. "Let's take a squint in." It is on the sidewalk in front of the fine residence of Ezekiel Breton. Surely everybody within the length and breadth of a hundred miles must have beard tbe name of the wealthy mill owner, whose energy and shrewdness have passed into a byword. The house is brilliantly lighted, and the windows .wide open as if to invite the attention and admiration of tbe bumble passers by.

[Copyrighted by the author and published In The Mail by arrangeme him.] A CHAPTER

my

A hurt look came isto his eyes he dropped

raway.

The fun was all gone, and her words «aod her. look he knew would come bock to trim ,n thousand timee when be should bo alone.

But she put out her J) and to him like:the eceptor of a queon. "Never mind—you iwill generally wear better clothes than theee, woit'tkjrouP 4But Iwoupnt like to Live that moke aiy. difference," said Philip, looking wistfully at the cool white band he held. "Supposing loea^poor"—-

Bhe. drew ber hand astray impatiently. Jf he &ad known how he looked then, he woatd tuHKMCbosett another time,fur his lover's foolishness. "Dottt get poor. I like-pretty things and graceful manners and ekjant surrounding* that is the way I am marie. I should suffocate it SLdidnt have them." "But urged Philip uneati^y, "you couldnt lovo anybody but me, could your'

She smiled charmingly. "You must ilist let mef Then she rose as if \%o dismiss the subject "Are you all readyf*

In a Jninnto more he *a\'after he had faateped«n*liis yellow whiskero and bronzed ovtsr his face and nock and white wrists.

Your own lather wouldn't know you!" she laughed, as they opened the outer door. Philip went down two steps. "Von shake the foundation -with those boots." He was quite recovering liis spirits, now that she nm* so kind with him. "And you will toll me all about it, and whether tbe leader hasanburn hair as I said! Skm: long before yon wili ewae back—an hoorf ell, ril be here as leng as that."

He polled his gnat bat well dowa «rer his eyes iind started, but At the gate he tamed to look back.

Bertha stood in the doorway, taB and queenly, the red grid of ber hair glistening in the light tike a bak about her head. Ha could not catch the look In her face, but ns the stood she rated ber hand to her tips and threw him a kiss with a gesture at stqnisite graca.

In a moment mc*» he hetitl her at tbe piano, and he tried to keep clumsy step to the strain from "La Tmviata* that throbbing after him.

CHAPTER n. »Asq«rsnaoixo.

Philip poshed open the door of Market hall and looked in. About sixty men were Mattered over tbe benches in all conceivable positions. A namber hdd pipes between (Mr teeth. Sling the room with the rank •nofceof the strange* and bteckest tohneeo. Here and there two men appropriated a whole bench, ooe at eadh end, for a sella. Bo* more erf them wars a^tled dowa on the mrall

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RSRRRE HAIRRB

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to seize the incendiary in corner of Ids own parlor. He met Bertha's blue nypt wide open to a new interest She hs /t Vnig tamed from the piano, but her sleeve wascauzht: back on the edgeof the keyboar A, reweaUng the lair full contour of her arirfc gii«to«ari ^whiter than the ivory ber »ath4t. "A mystery, ht mr jlaaTniiigP sbe-'smOed "let me picturo l^nc tall, with dbistering auburn hair oa 1 i* ^*Oike head"—— "Pish—excuse,,

dear-^but more

likely the fello tr is-Mme low, dramken jailbird you wo tld "Up -afraid to jmss on the street. Som-1, day^Ckey will ibid out there is no good iking working people uneasy. They want the rnvk, and tbejraought to be glad the rk v.-saita them. TSseir interests aro identif tl widh'Ours." "No do m»eavad Mr. Effingsworth, taj his suave ton w, that seemed loo smooth far' satire, rat ptarhaps they thii& you get txw large a: tacm«.ft the dividends!" "You. Btaucfr»round your -sentences pretgr well," /oE* rtAl Mr. Breton, Hashing sligntfy, "but yo*rnean to say j«oa, of all moo, symr «aMze_*rfth this labor rwform nonsensd!"

El' iagysworfii smiled and shrugged &iis sha? mif she Alders just visiWy. orj^iit to know me, Mr. Breton. I «y bjoOMh a 'with—nobody. It is too ranch tr Mfele. Arid as for the 'sufferings of-the If fleer .da: mm—they may be very pitiable—tout I damt scidhow the nether millstone cantielp ifcsdC, er for that matter tbe helped either."

Then he glanced curiou^ toward tho piano. •"Whyfsvhere are our young people JLttcr.'wnsidcrablo dumb show Bertha had llwcomaarware that Philip had some itftelli-:fpmae-efl'a startling nature to communicate. £lo it happened that, At the moment Mr. £lling»worth inquired sfor them, the young geopleMtood just insidefthe door of tlwoozy littloroom called "theitudy."

MI «m going to hairo some high fun to night^Bertha I am goipg to that labor meeting. fJ want to seo the (business from the in--stde,v#hen tho public dhow isn't going TO." '.Tho girl lookod at him in astonishment. "TkH#y won't let you ial"

MUfcat's just where tho fun is coming. It is goiagtobe better that all tho college deviltry, i«w»d—^wait here *wo minutes and I'll stxvw you."

Book shelves ran upfto the ceiling on 2he side of tbe room, opposite the door. A long offlco. table stretched across tho centcr.almost toiteo high window looking toward tho street. But all the business associations did net oppress this elegant young woman, who throw herself iu luxurious abandon into the Military easy chair. She apparently did not (lnd love very disturbing. No doubt ^he only auiled at its poems, fervid with a passion unkaown to her cnlnneven lifo. Her young tever had often lieen frightened at She firm oatlino of tho coldvred lips, with never a thought of kisses on them, and at the spriteliko unconsciousness of her blue eyes that ilooked curiously at ihim whon love softened bi9 voice and glorified his face. Shearas not listening for his returning footsteps, *ot one lino of eagerness orwf suspense was- on the dispassionate face, while she played with the flashing jewel her lover bod placed long ago oaher linger. '.Tho door opens behind her, but she does not .turn her head—no doubt he will oome in ifront of her if he wishes to be—thererho is, a flight figure, looking very odd and disagreeAblo in the soiled and ill fitting clothes ho has put on, with no collar or cuffs, bubia blue .Sannel shirt open a button or two at his neck, illis faded pantaloons wore roughly thrust ttoto tho tops of an immense pair of eewhide boots which apparently had never been so .much as shadowed by a box of blacking. His (black eyes sparkle as ho holds out to .her a ibandless felt hat which shown the marks of a :tong and varied history. Bertha looked at him in dull distaste. ..What a poor month ho .-had, and how unpleasantly his face wrinkled when ho smiled. •\'I wouldn't ever da this again," she-said cdldly,

S

of their bocks, with their knees braced against the bench in front. Ha saw in a moment that, tboush. fee was worse dressed than any of them, yet there waa a difference In kind also. Tbea% was more meaning in oaft wrinkle on tbolr well worn coats than in all hisingenious^nraphernalia. He felt ashamed in the presence of theee pathetic realities, and tamed to go$ack, but his great boots creaked Incautiously. Only two or three looked oround a pojr more or less dose not count for much with the poor or with the rich. Tw% or three grave, worn faces, two or threeqpairs tired, hopeless eyes rebuked him unconsciously for the idle freak that broughtihim there. What right had ho there, who came out of curiosity to watch the whealthy symptoms of the disease called poverty? What an insult to their bitter needs weewfcis mock trimmings, in which hoMwmo

lHaMae masquerading nnwng a graveyard fultof ghosts 1 *5Hold on, friend, ye needn't go,11 and a kMO? whiskered man beckoned to him. (To found his way to a seat with a hang deg air, the best piece of acting he had done: jOt. The same stolid look was ou 'this man^ 'dice, bleached to a settled paleness from the •aonfinementof years in the walls of the mills, *nd there was a bitterness about the mouth sand nostrils as if be bad not kissed the'rod tthat smoto him. "No call to be shamed, youngman. -*«jppose them's the best clothes you got. "SPour heart may be just as white as if you -had a better livin'."

The poor dont talk except when they Slave something to say. So PhiUp said nothiug, to act in character. "I suppose yon think you?ro pretty hard up," resumed the big whiskered nan, who was no other than Graves, the man who had peered into his companion's parlorwrindow only an hour ago. And lie glanced significantly at Philipfe boots and soil eft pantaloons. "Jest look at that little «chnp-0"rer yonder, all bowed up. Ho don't look very hearty, does he? Up to his house there's a wife all faded and broken, and two little cripples for children, a whinin' and a screechin' from mornin' to-night. He would chop his head off to help them, bat he is tiow and' weak, and don't git but ninety •cents a day, and he can't save them babies A single ache, nor ease their poor misshapen little boaee one twinge. It takes every penny to keQpthe wretched breath in 'email, andhim and his wife, once as purty a gal as ever pou seen, has only to stand and see 'em -cry. IhQf osed to cry themselves, too, but that wasJlong ago."

Graves looked about him. "Do you see that lean faced man with the-hurt arm, at the end of the seat ye'Ve on? Well, bo's got the smartest little boy in 'town. .'All he wanted was schooling and 'his father and mother saved and scrimped-so he ccniki have it. You oughter seen how proud they was to see their lad struttin1 off to school while they kept a thinkin' of him all'daylong in the milL And they was never too toed to hear the boy tell them -ever (the hard names he had learned. And tfinn they would tell the neighbors, w"ho sometimes got jealous, how thoy was savin' every cent and how their boy was.goto' to collego like old Breton's aon. JBufctkere was no call for tho neighbors to be jealous the woman went to work ono day -when she was sick, and caught her death.V cold and it took a mint of money to miss ianQithen' bury her. Then the man fell and got hurt arid the little boy cried enough to break your heart when thoy took his books away The. face of the long whiskered man softened an instant, but he turned his head away. "Ho needn't a cried,™ ihe saiH-gruffly "I dont know as h§ was any I better than tbe rest of us."

Now there came a Utile commotion on the platform. A man who sat' headatnd shoiilders above tbe group on the platform rrose' to his full height liko a young giant and'came forward. He looked down into the (upturned faces for a moment in silence, rand Philip felt hiB steel blue eyes piercing hlmllik&a sword. "Men," he began. Then he Stopped speaking a moment. "Yes, men you'aro, in spite of all the degradation tbe iricli and the powerful can put upon yon. 'The 'timoi is coming when tho principles of oquality vaunted on the pages of so many lying.constltutions, and breathed on tho lips of s» manyiMlse tongued demagogues, shall be fully realized. The time is coming when tbe work staUtnot be on one side and tho reward on the other. We shnll not always west -najtho livery of onr mastere. Not ahn^ |he poor rise early and toil late, wearV":"' jun till it be shriveled like parchment, mk »ir bodiestill they be ready to drop into, Jne grave for weariness, only to pluck the .fruit of God's bountiful earth for the lips of the idlo and the proud to taste. The groefcras favors of ten thousand smiling hills and valleys are gathered only for tho few, and those vwkose arrogance and hardness of beortlhave least deserved them. And they teHiUB.&mtist be so that the few who are more capablaand prudent should thus be rewarded for their superiority. They point ta sis thousand years' oppression of the poor, and say what has been must be. Yes, 'for six thousand years the groans of the poor have gone up, and as long the few, far whom alone .all thefbeauty and bounty of tbe great earth seemed to blossom, have answered with curses and contempt" Now his magnificent chest seemed to expand his voice Joetits patbctic tone and rang out like a trumpet. "But the knowledge they have given to make us better ulnves is bunting onr fetters sbeforo their frightened cyea. The astonished people sco at last the black and monstrous in' justice of their subjection. They have numbeared their hosts, as countless aa the -sands of Cbeeea. It the strength of their arms has girdled the earth with unceasing sliuama of wealth. It is the ingenuity 4 their trains has .harnessed each of tbe untamed forces of nature to service. Tho Infinite number of thstr cunning fingers has woven the fabrics to olothe Christendom, and their red blood ponned out on a thousand battlefields has bought twin triumphs for the pride of their masters."

His ftpseoddenly curled in majestic tsont "And how long will your patient, eaOoosad hands build palaces for tbe great, while you live in hossbi Ought not such strong arms as yours be atri* to win enough to make one modest home happy, if you were not robbed! Tbe world if foil of cheap comforts the harveats are bevrtdtaK, tbe storehouses bursting, but each worthless pauper has as gooda share as yon who make the wealth. You cause the inenwse your hands till the teeming lands and work the tireless loot** Your shoulders bow beneath tbe products of your toil —like mntzled son beating out the grain for nnpitying masteim. Why will you endure it? They tell you It is only right their books teach gentle sahokteton their oilytongned speakers soothe yon with prow* he and consoling maxims, tat all tbe wise men of oenturtes and all the hundred thesaaod printing presses of today, heaping up hooks In ovary language like anew tower of Babel, cannot tnrn a lie into the truth."

Philip sat leaning forward, his eyes llxad on the speaker in a strange excitement. Curran's words came into his soul Sks mottan ommimtng the chaff of yean and lag a path of light behind. Be was fall of wonder thothe hod been UadnloK.Mtai wtth^a»hirMW£l«vtegTisMu. 'fkipd

ATURDAY EVENING MAIL

forgoltea how ho hsd oome there, and fulta sudden desire to take the hand of «very poor man in the room and pledge him his help. Bat DO one seemed touched as he was. The same hard look was on each face, the mask the poor assume to cover their distress, but the eyes of them all were centered on their orator.. "But yott art poor, and with your wives and children are hungry for even tbe crust of bread your masters cast you. Though you were a million to one, you are held to their service^ no matter IKW unjust, by tho daily recurring facts of hunger and cold Look! tbe fieMs arc white with their harvests, the shops filled with their cloths, but the law makers and their pitiless police are in their pay, and you mast bow your meek necks nnd thank jour masters humbly for the triflo thtfir greed vouchsafes you."

ChUip's heart thumped painfully within his faded coat 'Could the speaker give no hope to the wretrhed listeners hanging on his lips! Must they cringe forever at tho foot of power? Their thin, worn hands made the bread, but it was snatchcd from their mouths and doled out in scanty allowance as the price of hopeless slavery. He had never seen it before. "Who is hoT" he whispered to his eomyaaion. The man did not even turn his face from the speaker. "It-is Curran. He belongs to the Labor league." This, then, was the agitator his fa-/hcr-spoke of. And Bertha had pictured him lightly, \?ith his clustering auburn hair. For a. moment ho stood silent, while under the divine light in his eyes tbe souls ot each one ripened for his next words. 'Alone you can do nothing, but united we can shako the world, and all over the land the oppressed are banding together. We are weak now, but when the long stifled voice of ..your wrongs finds utterance, the answering moans of millions will rouse your souls to the resistless martyr pitch. Then it will seem sweet to die—yes, to starve—with your dear ones about you inspired with the same enthusiasm. When the generation is born which dare starve but has forgotten how to yield, and even for the bread of life will not sell its children into eternal slavery, then will the gold of the

rich

rot worthless ia

their white hands till they divide with us onr common heritage." He stopped and sat down, and as his enthusiasm faded from his face, Philip saw he was not handsome. The eyas that had seemed so wonderful were too deep seated beneath his heavy brows, and his smooth shaved face was scarred from exposure to sun and storm yet, while he had been speaking, pity and divine wrath in turn melting and burning in his eyes and lighting up his rugged cheeks, he had seemed beautiful, like an archangel

The audience sat in silence a moment, then one man shuffled his feet uneasily, then another, and then all rose listlessly to their feet. Philip thought their zest in life had gone so long ago that they did not even miss it then be remembered what his life was, bright as a June morning. Did God love him so much better than these weary creatures, whose only refuge was in hopelessness! Then he thought of Bertha waiting for him, and he hurried out, glad that he seemed to be escaping notice. Where was the funny adventure he had to tell his sweetheart! A now world had been revealed to him a world within the world he had played with, that knew no such thing as mirth, but fed forever on bitter realities, and his little spark of happiness seemed smothered in its black night. Each one must have a family circle of his own. There were hungry eyes looked to him for the cheer his poor }ieart waa too dead to give. Suddenly a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder. "Praps you aint got no place to go to, friend." It was his big whiskered companion in the hall, Graves. ^1 sort Jo1 liked your looks in the i^ptin' to-night, and you're welcome to abed at my house if you want it." "Oh, no," stumbled Philip, at his wit's ead. "Oh, no! Why not, then! Whore be you goin' to stay?" and tho man took his hand from the young man's shoulder and eyed him suspiciously. "Why, he wanted to go home and lay off his masquerade forever. Bertha, all radiant in all that wealth can add to beauty, was awaiting him. He had so much to tell her," but he hnd nothing to say aloud. "I won't take no refusal," insisted the man, taking Philip by tho arm. "No words ^Jano will get along easy with an extra for once. I presume you've slept in wuss places."

CHAPTER ILL

AN UNWILLING OVIST.

Philip thought things were going a little too far, and as he walked along with his undesirable host he began to plan escapes.

Up on the hill to his left he could see, now and then, between the houses, his own home and the lights in its window streaming welcome to him. The tense mood relaxed in him, old habits of thought and association made themselves felt again the poor man walking heavily by his side seemed a thousand miles removed from him. "Here we are," said Graves, as 1M led the mill owner's son up a conpln of rickety looking steps to a door«nj\ Philip was not pleased at all he had seen enough poverty to-night he did not care to particularize. What was the use of distressing himself over this manVprivate miseries and discomforts? Wasn't it written in all the books of political economy that—but Graves opened the door and waited for his unwilling guest to go in before him. Tbe poor man's heart was warm In toe unwonted exercise of hospitality.

With an ungracious frown on his face Philip entered the dimly lighted room, his groat boots sounding with startling effect on the bare floor. The top heavy kerosene lamp was Corned down, but with the heartiness of a true host, Graves turned up the lamp so that Philip could look about him. There was little enough to see—a round pine table with a little blue, cracked crokery on it, a rusty cooking stove, two or three dingy, unpainted chairs, a high backed rocking chair, with a laded, shapeless chintz cushion, and what ,%med to be a sofa in one corner.

At first Philip thought the room had been noccupled, but as Graves turned up the {unp a trifle more he saw it was a woman ping upon the sofa—a woman with sunken jblack eyes and wan, color lew cheeks, whose loosely bound hair, gray before its time, fell down over her .shoulders. "Tbe woman is side, or she'd get up and speak to yon," said Graves, with a new gentleness in his voice, as he looked at the wife of his youth. "They say die might get well if wo could pay doctors'bilk. Eh, Jeunier

The girl who stood in the doorway bad ber mother's eyes, not quite large enough, but with a rare sheen in them it might be her mother's face, too, but with the bloom at perfect health lightening up its olive.

Involuntarily he ram to his feet and bowed, hut as the girl only seemed to regard himasooe might look atactrcns tumbler, Philip relapsed into his seat, in tbe humlliatk» beauty can pot upon the greatert at us.

Kothtn' hot cold potatoes! Well, I goes* they'll do witii a iittle salt and piece of

"Did Curran speakr asked the girL "Yet," answered Philip. "And who is he —ooommon labonerf Tbm ha hit his llpi.

Bat nobody took offeose, no ooe suspected theirgosstof being aflytttfni abovoaoomlaborer.

"Only a laborer," answered Graves, "a weaver, but he's got some book knowledge somehow. There aiut many can beat him at talkin', is there!"

The girl's eyes were on Philip now, impftr tient, as he fancied, even for his poor tribute to her lover's praise.

He is wonderful," he assented, "but what I dont understand is, that he can be such a man and still a weaver. Where did he learn itallf"

Have you got enough to eat? Well, knowledge has got pretty well through all classes now, for those as wants it It's there for all who have eyas or ears foi Why, friend, where have you been all your life! Brains and heartk don't go by station. I've found smarter men in shops and mills than most wo send to congress. There's thousands like Curran, if they only got the stirrin' he's had sonio way. Now, Jane, it's about tiuio you got this man's bed ready."

Philip's heart jumped. Of course he couldn't stay, but what excuse could he give for coming at all, then? "Be you leokin' for a job!" asked Graves, after his daughter had left them.

It occurred to Philip that he had one, if he wanted it—to put one spark of happiness into such lives as these, but he nodded. The man looked him over rather disparagingly. "Well, wash yourself up and black your boots a bit, and I guess I can do something for yen in the mill. It's hard work and small pay! but we never had better, you and me. We don't well know what we miss bein' poor, we miss it such a big ways." •"How long has Curran lived here!" asked Philip incoherently. The man stared at him a moment. *'Qh! Carran, he aint been here more'n a six month. Ho aint got no folks he lives down to ono of them factory boardin' houses, hut dont have no friends, or talk about anythin' but what you heard to-night. But it's •all useless." Gravos looked gloomily on the floor. •"We aint got no show the rich are too many for us. I guess it's human nature for one to boss the crowd, or it wouldnt a always bcon so. There's tho girt,' she'll "show you where to sleep. Be up oarly iu the mornin1, now."

The only course for him seemed to bo to follow tho girl, and Philip rose to his feet. "Good night," he said. The sick woman opened her eyes in surprise. Such peoplo as they found no time for amenities in their dreary home. Graves looked around. "What? Oh, yes, goodby, but I'm goin' to see yon in the mornin'."

His bedroom, on which the roof encroached greedily, was nowly whitewashed, orel9e was seldom used. His lamp sat on a wooden chair with no l»ack to it, crowded by a tin wash basin, with his portion of water half fllHng it, and a round black ball of soap. Then Philip turned to look at the bed they had made for him on a slat bedstead with low headboard but not so low as the tliin pillow. How many times must anybody double the pillow to make it fit for hi3 head? For a counterpane was the girl's plaid shawl he had seen it on nail down stairs. Poor littlo girl, she would want it very early in the morning. Then he glanced in tho eight by ten looking glass that hung on tbe white wall. Disguised I his own father would not have knows him, and he had a sensation of double consciousness as he saw his own reflection. Perhaps Graves was disguised too, and all the ill dressed men he had seen that evening, who suffered as much in their wretched lives as he could, who could enjoy all that brightened his own life as much. And clothes made the difference between him and them, apparently, perhaps really. Tho world managed according to the clothes standard—for the man who could borrow a broadcloth suit, comforts, consideration, happiness—for tho man lu overalls, weary days, cheorless houses, hunger and—hah. Phillip pulled off his groat boots and threw them angrily acroes tho room he did not know what to make of it all.

Ho did not propose to spend the night here, of course, and face the family and his job in the mill in the morning, but he might as well lie down till the house was asleep and escape became possible. But he could not lie down with all his paint on and spoil tbe poor littlo pillow. So he takes off his yellow whiskers, and makes such good use of the basin of water and tho ball of soap that when ho next looked in the little mirror he saw no longer the road dusty tramp, but tho fresh, kindly face of a young man who has never tasted of the bitter fountains of life. lie started as if ho had been shot the windows had no curtains, and any passerby might have seen his transformation. Then came a heavy step on the stairs. He blew out tho light and buried himself in the bedclothes. In a moment more the door opened and Philip was breathing heavily. "Asleep?" it was the voice of bis host. "Well, 1 s'pose the morning will do. Pretty tired, I guess wonder bow far be came today!"

And

Graves closed the door after him

and went down stairs again. Of course Philip was not going to sleep, but there would be no harm in just closing bis tyes, he could think so much better.

Here he was drinking in tbe very life of the poor, a strange, terrible life he had never really imagined tofore. He had seen bow worn and broken were their men, and read tho pathetic lines of despair and sullen wretchedness written their faces, as if in silent reproonh to the providence that bad inflicted the unsoftenod curse of life on them. He had seen, too, their hapless girlhood, which beauty cannot cheer, which love only makes blacker, as the path of lightning a starless night And their sick, too, with no nursing, no gentlo words, no comforts to assuage one hour of pain. Then he seemed to be in the ball once more, and thrilling under tbe eloquence of tbe man Curran. Suddenly he opened his oyee wide. It could not be he was going to sleep, the bed was too hardabsurd—there could be no danger. But in five minutes the heir of tbe Breton mills was sound asleep in John Graves' garret room.

How long he had slept Philip had no mora idea than Rip Van Winkle on a former occasion Indeed it took him a ridiculously long time to separate dreams and facts enough to get bis bearings. Was that moonlight in tbe east, or dawn! Perhaps tbe family were all up and escape would be impmaibisi He bounded to his feet and clutched at his false whiskers, bid alas! his paint was all dissolved in the tin basin. His only chance was In getting away unnoticed, and in two minutes more he was groping out of his little room and down the steep stairs, boots in hand. He slowly opened tbe door into the sitting room. What if Graves stood within curiously watching. An odd guest, this, stealing out before daybreak. Again Philip wished he had stayed at borne that night

Thank Godl no one was in tho room. There was the

cracked,

rusty stove and the sofa the

sick woman had lain upon then was the dish of cold potatoes on the table aad tbe chair be bad sat in while be trted to eat. But somebody must be op In the inner room a stream of Hgbt mads a white track through the half open door. Woahl that bolt never dip—there. It slipped with a vengeance, and Philip drew back into the staircase in mortal r. Tbe light streak oa the fkoorbegan to move, aad in a moment more a white igure stood on the thnahoid of the tied

It was Jan* Graves* with her long

black hair about ber neck and white night diea^aad her eyes gtMening ^rightly. 8be

held the lamp above her head, and let her drapory cling as fondly ns it ch««e about form that would have charmed a sculptor. As she listened he could see her wavy hail riso and fall over her beating heart. Would she notice tho open stair door and come fon ward! What then? Ho must push her rudo iy to one side. He imagined her startled screams and tho father's figure hurrying inM the scene from another room to seise the interloper. No, sho returns to her room. It another instant ho has opened tho door

the kiiehon fire, hor face and fori*

lighted up by the I lames she was uursingi

wta ready imagination pictured the warn featured man who must bo her husband, out of whose eyes had faded so many years ago tho last lingering gleam of tenderness. He imagined their old faced, joyless children bogrudged the scant play hours of childhood. Trooping behind them all, ho pictured along line of special wants and sorrows, the com-

Is not that fignro familiar—the one that stands this moment leaning against a dingy white pillar, while the rushing belts and sliding frames seem hurrying tho faster all about her? Yes, on the piece of wall between the two jail liko windows nearest to her hangs tho plaid shawl Philip Breton had for a counterpane only last night. Her dress is soiled and ill made, and her hair tied up in the closcst and ugliest coil to escape the greedy machinery, ever reaching out for new viotims. But the warm, soft tint of her cheeks and tho moist sheen in her black eyes were always' the same, and many a young man would rather look at her this minute than turn off an extra cut, they call it, of cloth at twenty cents.

Her days used to bo more terrible to her even than now. Sho had wished every morning that sho might die before night, and at night that God would take her before morning take her, sho cared not where no place could be worse, certain. But she was slowly growing, she thought, into tho dead calm that all tho rest had learned and yet how she hated the great massive mills, irresistible giants that held her with deathless grasp, grimly contemptuous of her writliings and foolish struggles. The overseen, too, how she hated them their sharp words stung her like the lash of so many taskmasters, and the paymaster who doled out to her tho few dollars, the wages of her blood and lifo, as if that could bo paid for. Sho had longed so many times to throw back his money in the smiling, patronizing face but tho poor cannot afford the dearest of all luxuries, pride.

Suddenly the mill bell rang out above the roar of tho wheels, and at its voice tho looms stopped, tbe breath of their life taken away, and tho belts ceased from their endless race.

Another day's work was closed, and the poor girls hurried on their shawls and hats as if at last something pleasant awaited them and went out in chattering groups. "What is it, Tommic?" A broad shouldered young fellow had left the crowd aud followed her shyly up tho hill. "Nothiu* much, only may I walk home with you f' "Will tlwt do you any good! Hurry up then."

He wafrdn honest fooed young fellow, and a little better dressed than most of the group that waited about the mill yard gate. "What,you want to walk round here with me for I cant see. They cant work you very Bard, Tomraie, if you want so much extra exercise."

It was rather a contemptuous laugh she had for him, hut die showed a row of small white teeth that poor Tommfe thought were very beautiful.

I wanted to say somethin' particular, Jennie." And be resicbed down his big dingy hand for a stalk of grass, and began pulling It nervously to (deem, as be kept up with her quick feet They were just passing Mr. Ellingsworth's house, and father and daughter stood in tbe doorway. No doubt Mr. Etlingsworth bad Just come home *o tea. He held his tall hat in his band, while be waited with bis beautiful daughter to enjoy the soft spring mildness. Jane Graves could see In behind them. How could they bear to stay outside? She sew a white spread tea table glistening with silver and rare china, soft tinted carpets and pictures in rich gilded frames, far prettier, she was sore, than anything nature had toshow. Tbe girl's face, as she stood resting ber white hand on her father's shoulder, was as ealroas the twilight itself.

How has she deserved It all more than It She was never tired In ber life, awl I never lie down at night but my hands and feet

See what she gets for being Idle seo what I get fur my tao hours' work, everyday since I was a child"

OMttmued an JlwrtA /V1-

'M

HIV|

is walking along tho street. Hiscscnjw wn| well timed, for the gray dawn of another daj of toil and weariness is creeping over ti factory village.

The hmises were all alike, the front nooii just as soiled, tho sU\w equally woru, tW paint ih« santo cheerless yellow to a shado Through the windows of una of them lit caught a glimpse of a tall gaimt woniat

building

.v.

I

II

It teas Jan* Graves.

pan ions of their days, the specters of their nights. Their houses looked all aliko as he walked along, so their lives might seem just alike at first thought. Ton hours for each in the same mills—who got almost tho same pittance for their hot work—and must spend their pennies for almost tho samo necessities. But infinite must bo tho diversities of their suffering,

CHAPTER IV.

CRYING FOR THJD VL007T.

Tho strident voices of 400 looms would seem to be too much for human nerves, but the walls of tho woavo room Number Two of the Breton mills aro hung with soiled plaid shawls and chip hats, tho livery of tho factory girl. Their restless forms are busy among tho rattling machinery, their swift cunning lingers moving harmlessly where mutilation would seom certain. It is a mere matter of habit ono look at most of tho set pale faces would showthero was no brain force in exercise. Why, tho overseer will tell you those girls aro as much machines as the frames and belting though they undoubtedly have one advantago for the employers, the girls aro cheaper. Tho wonderful mechanism of thoso looms, tho skillful system of belts and pulleys and the enormous water wheel cost a fortune. Girls can be bought in the market any day for a crust of bread.

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