Newspaper Page Text
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ANOTHER SHIPMENT
OF THE HANDSOME
ARRIVE THURSDAY MORNING—-"BETTER CALL
AND GET ONE—THEY ARE FREE-3 PER CENT
INTEREST, COMPOUNDED QUARTERLY, ALLOWED
ON SAVINGS ACCOUNTS.
The Fourth National Bank,
Atlanta, Ga.
HERO OF “THE JUNGLE” AROUSED TO NEW SENSE OF DUTY IN LIFE
FINDS WORK—HOPE GROWS—TURNED OUT IN THE DEAD OF WINTER
Blacklisting of Jurgis in Pack-
ingtown is Climax of
Inhumanity.
"But where shall I go?" Jurgis ask
ed, helplessly.
“I don't know where," she answered,
“Go on the street. If there Is no other
place—only go! And stay all night!"
In the end she and Marlja pushed
him out of the door and shut It behind
him. It was Just about sundown, and
It was turning cold—the rain had
charmed to snow and the slush was
freezing. Jurgis shivered In his thin
clothing, put his hands Into his pock
ets ami started away. He had not
eaten since morning and he felt weak
and flk with a sudden throb of hope
he recollected he was only a few blocks
from the saloon where he had been
wont to eat his dinner. They might
have mercy on him there, or he might
meet a friend. He set out tor the place
IS fast as he could walk.
"Hello, Jack,” said the saloonkeeper
when he entered—they call all foreign
ers "Jack” In Packlngton. "Where
have you been?”
Jurgis went straight to the bar. 'Tve
been In Jail,” he said, "pnd I’ve Just
got out. I walked home all the way 1 ,
and I've not a cent, and had nothing
to eat since this morning. And I've
lost my home, and my wife's 111, and I’m
done up.”
The saloon-keeper gated at him, with
his haggard white face and his blue
trembling lips. Then ho pushed a big
bottle toward him. "Fill her up!” he
said.
Jurgis could hardly hold the bottle,
his hands shook so.
'Don’t he afraid,” said the saloon
keeper; "fill her up!”
So Jurgis drank a huge glass of whls.
ky. and then turned to the lunch
counter In obedience to the other's sug.
geitlon. He ate all. he dared, stuffing
It In us fast as he could: and then, af
ter trying to speak his gratitude, he
went nnd sat down by the big red
stove In the middle of the room.
It was too good to last, however—like
•It things In this hard world. His soak
ed clothing began to steam, and the
horrible stench of fertiliser to fill the
room. In an hour cr so the packing
houses would be closing and the men
coming In from their work: and they
would not come Into a place that smelt
of Jurgis. Also It was Saturday night,
and In a. couple of hours would come
» violin and a cornet, and In the rear
part of the saloon the families of the
neighborhood would dance and feast
upon Wienerwurst and lager until 2 or
1 o'clock In the morning. The saloon
keeper coughed once or twice, and then
remarked: "Say, Jack, I'm afraid you'll
have to quit."
He was used to the sight of human
wrecks, this saloon keeper: he "fired”
dozens of them every night. Just as
haggard and cold and forlorn as this
°ne. Hut they were all men who had
given up and been counted out, while
Jurgis was still In the light and had
reminders of decency about him. As he
got up meekly, the other reflected that
he had always been a steady man, and
night soon be a good customer again,
''you've been up against It, I see, he
•aid. "Come this way.”
in the rear of the saloon were the
cellar stairs. There was a door above
and another below, both safely padlock
ed. making the stairs an admirable
Place to stow away a customer who
night still chance to have money or
a political light whom It was not ad'
visabie to kick out of doors.
So Jurgis spent the night. The whls.
ky liad only half warmed him, and he
could not sleep, exhausted as he was;
he uoutd nod forward, and then start
up. shivering with the cold, and begin
to remember again. Hour after hour
passed, until he could only persuade
himself that It was not morning by
me sounds of music and laughter and
•inglng that were to be heard from the
room. When at last these ceased he e*.
pected that be would be turned Into the
street; as this did not happen, he fell
to wondering whether the man had for.
«'’Uea him.
Bummer Jewelry
. Of course it’s jewelry that
ls Rood and wearable in any
°ther season, but it seems
peculiarly adapted to the
air y lingerie frocks of sum-
tnnrtime—Handy pins, sash
niiekles, collars, bracelets,
'vaist-sets, and so on. Lots
smart new things.
Maier & Berkele
In the end, when the silence and aus-
pense'were no longer to be borne, he
got up and hammered on the door; nnd
the proprietor came, yawning and rub
bing hla eyes. He was keeping open
all night, and dozing between custom
ers.
“I want to go home,” Jurgis said.
“I'm worried about my wife—I can't
wait any longer.”
•'Why didn't you say so before V said
the man. “1 thought you didn’t havo
any home to go to.”
Jurgis went outside. It was 4 o'clock
In the morning, and as black as night.
There were 3 or 4 Inches of fresh snow
on the ground, and the tlakoK were fall
ing thick and fast. He turned toward
Anlele's and started to run.
There was a light burning In the
kitchen window nnd the blind: were
drawn. The door was unlocked and
Jiii'Kls rushed In.
Anlelo, Marlja and the rest of the
omen were huddled about the atove
exactly as before; with them were sev-
eral newcomers, .Inryls nolle,.,] -also lie
noticed that the house was silent.
"Well?" he said.
No one answered him; they sat star.
Ing at him with their pale faces. Hi
cried again: "Well?"
And then, by the light of the smoky
lamp, he saw Marlja, who sat nearest
him, shaking her head slowly. "Not
yet,” she said.
And Jurgis gave a cry of dismay.
“Not yet?"
Again Marlja's head shook. The poor
fellow stood dumbfounded. "I don't
hear her,” he gasped.
“She's been quiet a long time,
plied the other.
There woe another pause—broken
suddenly by a voice from the attic:
Hello, there!"
Several of the women ran Into the
next room, while Mnrija sprang toward
Jurgis. "Walt hero!" she cried, and
the two stood, palo and trembling, lis
tening. In a few moments It became
clear that Mme. Haupt wns engaged In
descending the ladder, scolding and ex
horting again, while the ladder creaked
In protest. In a moment or two she
reached the ground, angry and breath'
leee, and they heard her coming Into tbe
room. Jurgis gave one glance at her,
and then turned white and reeled.
She stood breathing hard, and gazing
about her; no on* made a sound.
I haf done my best" she began sud
denly. "I can do noting more—dere Is
no use to try."
Again there wee silence.
"It ain’t my fault," she said, "you had
ought to haf had a doctor, und not
valted bo long—It was too late already
ven T come. Once more there was
deathlike stillness. Marlja waa dutch-
Ing Jurgis with all the power of her
one well arm.
Then suddenly Mme. Haupt turned to
Anlele. "You haf not got sometlng to
drink, hgy? 1 she queried. “Some
brandy?"
Anlele shook her head.
"Herr Oott!" exclaimed Mme. Haupt.
Such people! Perhaps you will give
me something to eat den—I haf had
nottlng since yesterday morning, und
I haf vorkod myself near to death here.
If I could haf known It vae like dls I
vould never haf come for such money
as you gif me.”
At this moment she chanced to look
round and saw Jurgis. She shook her
Anger at him. “You understand me,"
she said, "you pays me dot money yuet
de same! It Is not my fault dat you
•end for me so late I can't help you
vlfe.”
Here Madame Haupt paused for
moment to get her breath; and Marlja.
sealng the beads of sweat on Jurgis'
forehead, and feeling the quivering of
hla frame broka out In a low voice:
How la Onar
How la eha?" echoed Mailame
Haupt. "How do you t'lnk she can be
ven you leave her to kill herzelf eo? I
told dem dot veivdey eand for de priest.
She Is young, und she might haf got
over It, und been veil und strong, if
she been treated right. She light hard,
dot girl—she la not yet quite dead."
And Jurgis gave a frantic sceam.
"Dead!”
"She vlll die, of course,” said the
Other angrily. "Der baby la dead now."
The garret was lighted by a candle
■tuck upon a board; It had almost
burned itself out and wae sputtering
and smoking as Jurgis rushed up the
ladder. Ha could make out dimly In
blagkit* apread upon the tloor; at the
foot of It was a crucifix, and near It a
priest muttering a prayer. In a far
corner crouched Elzbleta. moaning and
walling. Upon the pallet lay Ona.
She was covered with a blanket, but
he could see her shoulders and one arm
lying bare; she was so shrunken he
would scarcely have known her
a piece of chalk. Her eyelids were
closed, and she lay still as death. He
staggered toward her and fell upon his
knees with a cry of anguish: "Ona!
One!”
She did not etlr. Ho caught her
hnnd In his, and began to clasp It fran
tically, calling, "Look at me! answer
me! It Is Jurgis come back—don't you
hear me?"
There tons the falnteat quivering of
the eyelids, and he called again In
frenzy, "Ona! Ona!”
Then suddenly her eyes opened—one
Instant. One Instant ahe looked at him
—there wae a flash of recognition be
tween them, he saw her nfar off, as
through a dim vista, standing forlorn.
He stretched out hls arms to her, he
called her In wild despair; a fearful
yearning surged up In him, hunger for
her that woh agony, desire that was a
new being bom within him, tearing hls
heartstrings, torturing him. Hut It was
all In vain—she faded from him, she
slipped back and was gone. And a wall
of anguish burst fmm him, great sobs
shook all hls frame, and hot tears ran
down hls checks and fell upon her. He
clutched her hands, he shook lo r, In-
caught her In hls arms and pressed
her to Mm, but she lay cold and still—
she was gone—she was gone!
The word rang through him like the
sound of >i lioll echoing In the fur
depths of him, making forgotten chords
to vibrate, old shadowy fears to stir—
fears of the dark, fears of the void,
fears of annihilation. Hhe tvaa dead!
She was dead! He would never seo
her again, never hear her again; An
Icy horror of loneliness seized him; in-
saw himself standing apart and watch
ing all tho world fado away from hint
—a world of shadows, of fickle dreams.
He was like a little child, In hls fright
and grief: he railed nnd called, and got
no answer, and hls cries of despair
echoed through the house, making the
women downstairs draw nearer to on h
other la fear. He was Ineousohihle. lie-
aide himself—the priest came and laid
Ills hnnd upon hls shoulder nnd whis
pered to him, but he heard not a sound.
Ho was gone nway himself, stumbling
through the shadows, nnd groping af
ter tho aoul that had fled.
So he lay. The gray dawn came up
and crept Into the attic. The priest
left, the woman left, and he was nlono
with tho still, white figure—quieter
now, hut moaning and shuddering,
wrestling with the grisly fiend. Nov.
and then he would raise himself anil
stars at tho white mnsk before him.
then hide Ids eyes, because he could
not bear It. Dead! Deed! And she
was only a girl.' shy was barely 131
Her life had hardly begun—nnd here
ahe lay murdered—mangled, tortured to
death!
It was morning when he rose up and
camo down Into the kitchen—haggard
nnd ashen gray, reeling and dazed.
More of the neighbors had come In,
and they stared at him In silence ns ho
eank down upon a chair by the table
nnd burled hls fare In hls arms.
A few minutes later the front door
opened; a blast of cold and snow rush
ed In. nnd behind It llttl^ Kntrlna,
breathless from running, and blue with
the cold. "I'm home again!” she ex
claimed. "I could hardly "
And then, seeing Jurgis, she stopped
with »n evcismatlon. looking from
one to another, ehe »sm that something
had happened, and ahe asked In a lower
voice: “What's the matter?"
Before any one could reply. Jurgis
started up: he went toward her, walk-
leg unsteadlh. "Whme have ym
been?" he demanded.
"Selling papers with the boye." eho
said. "The snow —
“Have you nny money?" he demand-
ad.
SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
Tho story of "The Jungle," Upton Sinclair** novel, which caused ,
the government Investigation Into the methods employed by tho beef
trust, has Its origin In an actual Packlngtown romance.
> A simple-minded coterie of Lithuanians arrive In Chicago, seeking
employment, and aro conducted to Packlngtown by n friend. Jurgis, a
giant In strength, Is betrothed to Ona, and tho first chapter tells of the
wedding In all Its grotesqueness. After mueh tribulation the entire fam
ily obtains work In the stockyards—all but Ona, who, Jurgis said, should
never work.
The terrible tale of the slaughter houses Is told with almost revolt
ing detail till* tilth, till* oven* Hiking of IlHiidH, the Struggle to keep up
with the pacemakers, Is all vividly doplcted. Tho llttlo faintly buys a
house on tho Instalment plan, only to find they have been swindled, and
Ona Is furred to seek \\mk t" the m tu.il 11 \ I i»k ixi»imim«**4 iiihI the
• Interest on the purchase contract, of which they learn too late.
Just ns Ona and Jurgis pay Marlja wliat they owe her. Jurgis turns
hls ankle and Is laid up for months. Hls nature begins to chnnge. He
become/ cross and savage with pain, titarvatlun stares the family in
the face.
Finally Jurgis begins work In the fertiliser plant—the deadliest of
all—and Elzblctu slaves in the sausage stuffing department. The little
boys of tho family learn to swear, drink and smoke. Gradually the grind
throws tho family Into constant stupor. They talk little—only eat what
they can, sleep when they can, and work, it seems to thorn, always.
Then Onn confesses, under compulsion, that In order to save the
entire family from financial destruction and loss of Jobs, Connor, foreman
of her department In the yards, had forced her to receive attentions
from him. Jurats almost kills her. Then he rushes blindly to tho yards
nnd tries to kill Connor, sinking hls teeth Into him. and finally being
dragged off by a dozen men. Jurgis Is then arrogted and spends Christ-
mas Eve In prison, awaiting trial.
Jurgis, In Jnll, meets a cracksman and Is Initiated Into the mysteries
of crime. Later he Is sentenced to thirty days in prison for assaulting
I'onnor. He learns from a messenger that hls family Is starving. Finally
ha laraleaasd and returns to what once was hls horns. Another family
has it. Jurgis In unable to dlscovor where Ona and the rest of the llttlo
coterie reside. He is told they are starving and freezing to death In some
bleak garret.
Jurgis traces hls family to a shanty to find hls wife dying. He seoks
a midwife, who laughs In hls face when ho tells her he has only a dollar
and a quarter, but she finally relents and goes with him. Ai the door of
the shanty Marlja meets and entreats him to go away until the morning.
He walks the stroets all night, and reaches home In the morning In time
to close hls wife’s eyes In death. Then he takes to drink In earnest.
(Copyright, 1906, by Upton Sinclair. All rights reserved.)
Death of His Little Son Comes
As Final Blow of
Cruel Fate.
She had crowded all her boarders Into
one room on Ona’a account, but now
he could go up In the garret whero he
belonged—and not there much longer,
either, if he did not pay her some rent.
Jurgis went without a word, and,
stepping over half n dozen sleeping
boarders In the next rom, ascended
the ladder. It was dark up above; they
could not afford any light; also It was
ncsrlv ?e cold us outdoors. In a corner,
nz far away from the corpse ns pens!
ble, sat Marlja, holding little Antanos
In her cfno good arm nnd trying to soothe
’Yes.”
“How much?"
"Nearly three dollars. Jurgis."
"Give It to ms.”
Katrina, frightened by hls manner,
glanced at the others. "Give it to
me!” he commanded again, and she put
her hand Into her pocket nnd pulled out
a lump of coins tied In a bit of rag.
Jurgis took It without a word, and went
out of the door and down the street.
Three doors nway was a saloon.
"Whisky," he said, as he entered, and
as the man pushed him some, he tore
at the rag with hla teeth, and pulled
out half a dollar. “How much Is the
bottle?" he said, "I want to get drunk.'
CHAPTER XX.
Dut a big man cannot stay drunk
very long on three dollars. That was
Sunday morning, and Monday night
Jurgis came home, sober and sick, real
izing that he had spent every cent the
family owned, and had not brought a
single Instant’s forgetfulness with It.
Ona wns not yet burled; but the po
lice had been notified, and on the mor
row they would put the body In a
pine coffin and take It to the potter’s
held. Elzbleta was out begging now, a
few pennies from each of the neighbors
to get enough to pay for a mass for her;
and tbe children were upstairs starving
to death, while he, good-for-nothing
rascal, had been spending their
money on drink. Ho spoke
Anlele. scornfully, and when he started
toward the fire ahe added the Informa-
he tlon that her kitchen waa no longer for
wouifl scarcely npn inai ner «ucnen was no longer ror before; she would only plead with him, dreadful meaning of Jhat Incident nnd
was all but a skeleton, and as white as him to fill with hls phosphate stinks, here by the corpse of hls dead wife, he went away with a shaking at the
him to sleep. In another corner crouch
ed poor llttlo Juozapas, walling because
he had nothing to eat all day. Marlja
said not a word to Jurgis; he crept
In like a whipped cur, and went and
sat down by the body.
Perhaps he ought to have meditated
upon the hunger of the children and
upon hls own baseness; but ho thought
only of Ona; he gave himself up ngaln
to the luxury of grief. Ho shed no
tears, being ashamed to make a sound;
he sat motionless and shuddering with
hls anguish. He had never dreamed
how much he loved Ona until now that
she was gone—until now thn(. he eat
here, knowing that on the morrow they
would take her away, and that he
would never lay eyes upon her again—
never all the days of hls life. Hls old
love, which had been starved to deoth,
beaten to death, awoke In him ngaln;
the flood-gutes of memory were lifted
—he saw' nil their life together, saw her
as he had seen her In Lithuania the
first day at the fair, beautiful as the
flowers, singing like a bird. He paw
her aa he had married her, with all her
tenderness, with her heart of wonder;
tho very words she had spoken seemed
to ring now* in hls ears, the tears she
had shed to be wet upon hls cheek.
Tho long, cruel battle with misery
and hunger had hardened and embit
tered him, but It had not changed her
—she had been the same hungry soul
to the end. stretching out her arms to
him. pleading with him, begging him
for love and tenderness. And she had
suffered—so cruelly she had suffered,
such agonies,, such Infamies—ah, God,
the memory of them was not to be
borne. What a monster of wickedness,
of heartlessness, he had been! Every
angry’ word he had ever spoken came
back to him nnd cut like a knife; every
oelflsh act that he had done—with
what torments ho paid for them now!
And such devotion and awe as welled
up In hls soul—now that it could never
be spoken, now that It was too late,
too late! Hls bosom was choking with
it, bursting with It; he crouched here
In the darkness beside her, stretching
out hls arms to her—and she was gone
forever, she was dead! He could
have screamed aloud with the horror
nnd despair of it; a sweat of agony
beaded hi* forehead, yet he dared not
make a sound—ha scarcely dared to
breathe, because of hls shame and
loathing of himself.
Late at night came Elzbleta, having
gotten the money for a mass, and paid
for It In advance, lest she should be
tempted too sorely at home. 8he
brought also a bit of stale rye bread
that some one had given her, and with
that they quieted the children and got
them to sleep. Then she came over to
Jurgis and sat down beside him.
She said not a word of reproach—
she and Marlja had chosen that course
before; she would only plead with him.
Already Elzbleta hod choked down her
tears, grief being crowded out of her
soul by fear. She had to bury one
of her children—but then she had done
it three times before, and each time
risen up and gone back to take up
the battlo for tho rest. Elzbleta was
onn of the primitive i I entures Ilk.'
th* angle-worm, which on living
though cut In half; like a hen, which,
deprived of her chickens one by one,
will mothor the last that Is left her.
Hhe did this because It wns her nature
Hhe usk**il no qu«>stloIlH ill.-.lit t lie
Justice of It, nor the worth-whiteness
of life In Which dPNtnif tlon and death
ran Hot.
And thin old ('•.||,im,n sense view she
labored to Impress upon Jurgla, plead
ing with him with tears In her eyes.
Ona was dead, but the others were loft
and they must be saved. She did not
ask tor her own children. Hhe nnd
Marlja could care for them somehow,
but there was Antanas, hls own son.
Ona had given Antanas to him—the lit
tle fellow was the only remembrance of
her that he had; ho must treasure it
and protect it, he must show himself
a man. He knew what Ona would have
had him do, w*hat she would ask of
him at thin moment, If she could speak
to him. It was a terrible thing that
h|..,i,|.| si l.i 1 ii« hL#- hlid; hut
the life had been too hard for her, and
she had to go. St was terrible that
they were not able to bury her, that
ho could not even have a day to mourn
her—but so It was. Their fate was
pressing; they had not a cent, ai)d the
children would perish—some money
must be had. Could he not be a man
for One's sake, and pull himself to
gether? In a little whtlo they would
oe out of danger—now that they had
given up the house they could llvo
more cheaply, and with all the children
working they could get along, If only
he would not go to pieces. 8o Elzbleta
went on with feverish intensity,
was a struggle for life with her; she
was not afraid that Jurgis would go on
drinking, for ho had no money for that,
but she was wild with dread at the
thought that he might desert them,
might take to tho road, ns Jonas had
done.
Dut with Ona's dead body beneath
Ills eyes Jurgis /rould not well think of
treason to hls child. Yes, he said, he
would try, for tho sake of Antanas.
He would give the title fellow a chance
—would get to work at once, yes, to
morrow, without even waiting for Ona
to be buried. They might trust him;
he would keep hls word, ccftne what
■ftpjlfl
And so he was out before daylight
tbe next morning, headache, heartache
and all. He went straight to Graham's
fertilizer mill to see If he could get
bark hls Job. Dut the boss shook his
head when he saw him—no, hls place
had been filled long ago and there was
no room for him.
Do you think there will be?” Jurgis
asked. ”1 may have to wait.”
No,” said the other; "it will not be
worth your while to wait—thfre will
be nothing for you here.”
Jurgis stood gazing at him in per
plexity. "What Is the matter?** Jie
asked. "Didn't I do my work?” t
The other met hls look with one of
cold Indifference and answered, "There
will be nothing for you here, I said."
Jurgis had hls suspicions ns to tho
heart. Ife went and took hls stand
with the mob of hungry wretches who
were standing about In the snow be
fore tho time station. Here he stayed,
break fast less, for two hours, until the
throng was driven away by the clubs
of tho police. There was no work for
him that day.
Jurgis had made a good many nr
qualntances In hls long service at the
yards—there were saloonkeepers who
would trust him for a drink and a sand
wich, und members of tils old union
who would give him a dime at « pinch.
It was not a question of life nnd death
for him, therefore; he might hunt ull
day, and come again on the morrow,
nnd try hanging on thus for weeks,
like hundreds and thousands of oth-
Meantlmo, Teta Elzbleta would
go nnd beg, over In the Hyde Park
district, and tho children would bring
home enough hi pacify Anlele, and
keep them all alive.
It was the end of a week of this sort
of waiting, roaming about In the bit
ter winds or loafing In saloons, that
Jurgis stumbled on a chance In one
of the cellars of Jones’ hlg packing
plant He saw a foreman passing ih«
open doorway, and hailed him for a
j<ii*
Push a truck?” Inquired the man,
and JurgJs answered, "Yes, sir!" be
fore the words were well out of hie
mouth.
What’s your name?” demanded tho
uthor.
"Jurgis Rudkus."
"Worked In the yards before?”
"Yes."
** Whereabouts ?’’
"Hrown's killing beds nnd Durham's
fertiliser mill.”
"Why did you leave there?”
"Tho first iline 1 hud an accident,
nnd the last time I was sent up for a
month.”
i see. Well, I’ll give you a trial.
Come early tomorrow and ask for Mr.
Thomas."
Ho Jurgle rushed home with the wild
tidings that ho had a* Job—that the
terrible siege wee over. The remnants
<.f the family had quite u celebratloi
that night; nnd In the morning Jurgi
wan at tho place half an* hour before
the time of opening. The foreman
came in shortly afterward, and when
ho saw Jurgis he frowned.
"Oh,” he said, "Z promised you n
Job. didn’t I?”
"Yes, air,” said Jurgle.
"Wall, I’m sorry, but I made a mis
take. I can't us»> you."
Jurgis stered dumfnunded. "What’s
the matter?” he gasped.
"Nothing,” said the man, "only I can't
use you.”
Thero was the same cold, hostile
stare that he had had from the boss of
the fertilizer mill. He knew that there
was no use In saying a word, and he
turned nnd went uwny.
Out In the saloons the men could
tell him ell about the meaning of It.
They gazed at him with pitying eyes—
poor devil, he wns blacklisted! What
had he done? (hey asked—knocked
down hls boss? Good heavene, he
might have known! Why, he stood as
much chance of getting a Job In Pack
lngtown as of being chosen mayor *»f
Chicago. Why had ho wasted hls time
hunting? They had him on n secret
llBt In every office, big and little, to
tho place. They had hls name by thl*
time In Ht. Louis and New York, In
Omaha nnd Uoston, In Kansas City
and Ht. Joseph.
Ite was condemned nnd sentenced,
without trial and without appeal; he
could never Work for the packers again
—ho could not even clean cattle pens
or drive a truck In any place when?
they root railed, lie might try It, If he
chose, as hundreds had triad It, and
found out for themselves. Ho would
never he told anything about It, he
would never get any more satisfaction
than ho had gotten Just now ; but he
would always nnd when the time oante
that ho was not needed. It would not
do for him to give any other name,
either—they hod company "spotters’*
for Just that purpose, and he wouldn’t
keep a Job In Packlngtown three da\s.
Jurgis went home, carrying these
new tidings to the family council It
w-na a most cruel thing; here in this
district was hls home, such as it uhm,
the place he was used to nnd the
friends he knew—and now every pos
sibility of employment In It was closed
to him. There woh nothing In Pack
lngtown but pAcItlng houses; «nd no
It wns the dame thing as evicting hlrn
from hls home.
He nnd the two women spent all day
and half the night discussing it. It
W'ould be convenient downtown to the
children’s place of work; hut then
.Marlja was on the road to recovery
and had hopes of getting a Job In tha
yards; and though she did not >***•
her old-time lover once n month, be
cause of the misery of their state, yet
she could not make up her mind to gu
away snd give him up fotever. Then,
too, Elzbleta had heard something
about a chance to scrub the floors In
DurhHm’s offlcea nnd was watting ev
ery day for word. In the end It waa
decided that Jurgis should go down
town und at tike out for himself, *.nd
they would decide after lie got n job.
As there was no one from whom he
could borrow there and he dared not
bog for fear of being arrested, It whs
arranged that ever)- day he should
moot one of the children nnd he given
IS cents of their enrnlngs, upon which
he could keep going Then ell day h»*
was to pace the streets with hundreds
und thousands of other homeless
wretches. Inquiring at stores, ware
houses and factories for a chance; and
at night he was to crawl Into some
doorway or underneath n truck and
hide there until midnight, when he
might get Into one of the station-
houses end spread a newspefier upon
the floor and Ite down in the midst «*f
a throng of "bums” and beggars, reek
ing with alcohol and tobacco and filthy
with \errnln and disease.
(Continued in Tomorrow’s Georgian.)
Barrett’s Friends to Meet,
mooting of the friende of V. M.
Garrett, candidate f<»r council from
the Fifth word, will be held Thursday
evening at 8 o’clock In Justice Puck
ett’s court room.
THREE GOVERNORS
and a hoot of depositors with Two Million, Throe Hundred and Kiftv
Thouaand Dollar* to their credit, strongly endoraed
THE NEAL BANK.
\V*8 Aral appointed a Slate Depoaltory by the late Gov. W. Y. Atkin
son. then by Bx-Gorernor Alton D. Candler, roappolnted by him, then
appointed by hla aucceetor, Oovernor J. M. Terrell, alao reappointed
by hint. We are no near the ten thoueand lino of accounU on our
books that we are encouraged to reach out for
TWENTY THOUSAND DEPOSITORS.
If each on© of our loyal patrons will send us one or more accounts
we will soon have the roll complete, thus enabling us to still further
increaso our ability to aid Merchants, Manufacturers and Home
Uullders.
SAVINGS DEPARTMENT.
One Dollar starts an account with a little Homo Bank and book
or with a book only. We allow Interest, compounded aerat-annually,
at the rate of
THREE AND ONE-HALF PER CENT. PER ANNUM.
I M. THOI.roIt. frnH.nl ». f. UA.tr, CllUir.. H. C. QALOWtlt, Atil. C.lU.1,