Newspaper Page Text
TIIE ATLANTA GEORGIAN,
RATURPAY, JULY 11
JURGIS BECOMES A BEGGAR—“JUNGLE” HERO A GUEST IN A MANSION
Victim of Stockyards’ Methods Returns to
Chicago and Finds Job in Tunnel, Where
Injury Disables Him and Sends Him Into
Streets Helpless.
Copyright, 1906, by Upton Sinclair.
CHAPTER XXII—(CONTINUED)
When he awoke the «un waa ahlnlng
hot In h'to face. He aat up and
atretched hla arms, and then itased at
the water gliding by. Thej-e
deep pool, aheltered and silent, below
him, and g audden wonderful Idea
rushed upon him. He might have a
bath. The water waa free, and he
might get Into It—alt the way Into Itl
It would be the flrat time that he had
been all the way Into the water alnce
be left Lithuania!
ffbm Jurgla had flrat come to the
atock yarda he had been aa clean aa
any workingman could well be. But
later on, what with alckneaa and cold
and hunger and dlacouragement, and
the fllthlneaa of hid work, and the
vermin In hla home, he had given up
waehlng In winter, and In rammer only
aa much of him aa would go Into a
baaln. He had had a ahower bath In
Jail, but nothing alnce—and now he
would have a awtm!
The water waa warm, and he splaah-
i me water waa warm, anti no apiann-
.ea about like a very boy In hi a glee.
Afterwards he aat down In the water
Boar the bank and proceeded to acrub
hlnuelf—eoberly and methodically,
acourlng every Inch of him with aand.
While he was doing It he would do It
thoroughly, and aeo how It felt to be
clean. Then, xeelng that the aun waa
still hot, he took hla clothes from the
bank and proceeded to wash them,
piece by piece. ‘ As the dirt and grease
went floating off down stream he
S unted with satisfaction and soused
e clothes, again, venturing even to
dream that he might get rid of the fer
tilizer.
He hung them all up, and while they
were drying he lay down In the aun and
had another long sleep. They were hot
and stiff as boards on top, and a little
damp on the under aide, when he
awakened: but being hungry, he put
them on and set out again. He had
no knife, but with some labor he broke
himself a good, stout club, and, armed
with this, he marched down the road
again. •
Before long he came to a big farm
house, and turned up the lane that led
to It. It was Juat supper time, and the
farmer was washing hla hands at the
kitchen door. “Please, sir," said Jurgla,
"can I have something to eat! I can
pay." To which the farmer responded
promptly, "We don't feed tramps here.
Get out!"
Jurgla went without a word. But aa
ho passed round the barn he came to
a freshly plowed and harrowed field,
In which the fanner had set out some
young peach trees; and os he walked
he Jerked up a row of them by the
roots, more than a hundred trees In
all, before he reached the end of the
.field. That was hla answer, and It
showed his mood; from now on he waa
fighting, and the man who hit him
would get all that he gave, every
time.
Beyond the orchard Jurgla struck
through a patch of woods; and then a
Held of winter grain, and came at last
to another road. Before long he saw
unother farm house, and, aa It waa
beginning to cloud over a little, ha
naked here for shelter as well aa food.
Seeing the farmer eyeing him dubious
ly, he added, "I'll be ghl to sleep In
the barn."
"Well, I dunno," said the other. "Do
you smoke?”
"Sometimes,” said Jurgla, "but I'll
do It out of doors.” When the man
bad assented, he Inquired, "How much
will It cost me? I haven't very much
money."
"I reckon about 20 cents for sup
per," replied the farmer. "I won’t
charge ye for the bam."
So Jurgla went In, and sat down at
the table with the farmer's wife and
half a dozen children. It waa a boun
tiful meal—there were baked beans
and mashed potatoes and asparagus
chopped and atewed, and a dish of
strawberries, and great, thick slices of
bread, and a pitcher of milk. Jurgla
had not had such a feast since hla
wedding day, and, he made a mighty
effort to put In his 20 cents' worth.
They were all of them too hungry to
talk; but afterwards they sat upon the
steps and smoked, and the farmer
questioned his guest. When Jurgla had
explained that he was a workingman
from Chicago, and that he did not
know Just whither he waa bound, the
other said, "Why don't you stay here
and work for me?"
"I'm not looking for work Just now,
Jurgla answered.
‘‘I'll pay ye good," said the other,
eyeing his big form—"a dollar a day
and board ye. Help's terrible scarce
round here."
"Is that winter as well as summer?"
'Jurgla demanded quickly.
"N-no,” Aid the farmer: "I couldn't
keep ye after November—I ain't got a
big enough place for that.”
“I see." said the other, “that’s what
r thought. When you get through
working your horses- this fall, will you
turn them out In the snow?" (Jurgts
was beginning to think for himself
nowadays.) . ,
"Jt ain't quite the same." the farmer
answered, seeing the point. "There
ought to be work a strong fellow like
you can And to do. In the cities, or
a. mo place. In the winter time."
"Yea,” said Jurgls, "that’s what they
nil think; and so they crowd Into the
cities, and when they have to beg or
steal to live, and people ask 'em why
they don't go into the country, where
help Is scarce."
The farmer meditated a while.
"How about when your money's
gone?" he Inquired Anally. "You'11
have to, then, won't you?"
"Walt till it's gone." said Jurgls;
••then I'll see."
He had a long sleep In the barn and
then a big breakfast of coffee and bread
and oatmeal and stewed cherries, for
which the man charged him only IS
cents, perhaps having been Influenced
by hla arguments. Then Jurgls bade
farewell, and went on his way.
Such was the beginning of his life
as a tramp. It was seldom he got as
fair treatment as from this last farmer,
ami so as time went on he learned to
shun the house and to prefer sleeping
In the fields. When it rained he would
lind a deserted building. If he could,
and it not, he would wait until after
dark and then, with hla stick ready,
begin a stealthy approach upon a barn.
Generally he could get In before the
dog got scent of him, and then he would
hide In the hay and be safe until
morning; If not, and the dog attacked
him, he would rise and make a retreat
In battle order. Jurgls was not the
mighty man he had once been, but hla
arms were still good, and there were
few farm dogs he needed to hit more
than once.
Before long there came raspberries,
and then blackberries, to help him save
hla money; and there were apples In
All rights reserved.
the orchard, and potatoes In the ground
—he learned to note the places and fill
his pockets after dark. Twice be even
managed to capture a chicken, and had
a feast once In a deserted barn and
the other, time In a lonely spot along
side of a stream. When all of these
things failed him he used hla money
carefully, but without worry—for he
saw he could earn more whenever he
chose. Half an hour's chopping wood
In his lively fashion waa enough to
bring him a meal, and when the- farmer
had seen him working he would some
times try to bribe him to stay.
But Jurgls was not staying. He was
a free man now, a buccaneer. The old
wanderlust had got Into his blood, the
Joy of the unbound life, the Joy of seek
ing, of hoping without limit. There
were mishaps and discomforts—but at
least there was always something new;
and only think what It meant to a
man who for years had been penned up
In one place, seeing nothing but one
dreary prospect of shanties and facto
ries, to be suddenly set looA beneath
open sky, to behold new landscapes,
■ places and new people event hour!
To a man whose whole life had con
sisted of doing one certain thing all
day, until he was so exhausted that
he could only lie down and sleep until
the next day—and to be now hla own
master, working aa he pleased and
when he pleased, and facing a new ad
venture every hour!
Then, too, his health came back to
him, all his lost youthful vigor, his Joy
and power that he had mourned and
forgottenl It came with a sudden rush,
bewildering him, startling him; It was
as If his dead childhood had come
back to him, laughing and calling!
What with plenty to eat and fresh air
and exercise that was taken as It
pleased him, he would awaken from
its sleep and start off not knowing
what to do with hls energy, stretching
his arms, laughing, singing old songs
of home that came back to him. Now
und then, of course, he could not help
but think of little Antanos, whom he
should never see again; whoso little
voice he should never hear; apd then
he would have to battle with himself.
Sometimes at night he would waken
dreaming of Ona and stretch out hls
arms to her, and wet the ground with
hls teata But In the morning he would
get up and shake himself, and stride
uway again to battle wlttr the world.
He never asked where he waa nor
where he was going; the oountry was
big enough, he knew, and there was no
danger of hls coming to the end of It.
And of course he could always have
company for the asking—everywhere
he went there were men living Just as
he lived,, and whom he was welcome to
Join. He was a stranger at the busi
ness, buL they were not clannish, and
they taught’ him all their tricks—what
towns and villages It was best to keep
away from, and how to read the secret
signs upon the fences, and when to
beg and when to steal, and Just how
to do both. They laughed at hls Ideas
of paying for anything with money or
with work—for they got all they want
ed without either. Now and then Jur-
S a camped out with a gang of them
some woodland haunt, and foraged
with them In the neighborhood at
night. And then among them some one
would "take a shine” to him, and they
would go off together and travel for a
week, exchanging reminiscences.
Of these professional tramps a great
many had, of course, been shiftless and
vicious all their lives. But the vast
majority of them had been working
men, had fought the long light as Jur
gls had, snd found that It waa a losing
light, nnd given up. Later on he en
countered yet another sort of men,
those from whose ranks the tramps
were recruited, men who were home
less and wandering, but still seeking
work—seeking It In the harvest Helds.
Of these there was an army, the huge
surplus labor army of society; called
Into being under the stem system of
nature, to do the casual work of the
world, the tasks which were transient
and Irregular, and yet which had to be
done. They did not know that they
were such, of course; they only knew
that they sought the Job, and that the
Job was fleeting. In the early rummer
they would be In Texas, and as the
crops were ready they would follow
north with the season, ending with the
fall In Manitoba. Then they would seek
out the big lumber camps, where there
was winter work; or falling In this,
would drift to the cities, and live upon
what they had managed to save, with
the help of such transient work as
was there—the loading and unloading
of steamships and drgys, the digging
of ditches and the shovelling of snow.
If there welre more of them on hand
than chanced to be needed, the weaker
ones died off of cold and hunger,
again according to the stem system of
nature. . ,
It was In the latter part of July,
when Jurgls was In Missouri, that he
came upon the harvest work. Hero
were crops that men had worked for
three or four months to prepare, and
of which they would lose nearly all
unless they could And others to help
them for a week or two. So all over
the land there was a cry forlabor—
asenctes were set up and all the cities
Brass
Beds,
The latest and most exclu
sive designs manufactured.
Quality and Prices
Unequaled.
The beat expression of high
grade solid Brass Tubing
construction ever exhibited
In the South.
Samples on Exhibition
in Atlanta.
ARTISTIC DESIGNS WITH
ESTIMATES ON REQUEST
Factory Capacity 50 Beds Per Day.
THE METAL ART CO.,
Southern Representatives
UNITED SALES AGENCY,
Selling Experts.
Fourth National Bank Bldg.
ATLANTA.
were drained of men. even college boys
were brought by the car load, and
hordes of frantic farmers would hold
up trains and carry off wagon loads of
men by main force. Not that they did
not pay them well—any man could get
two dollars a day and hls board, and
the best men could get two dollars
and a half or three.
The harvest fever was In the very
air and no man with any spirit In him
could be In that region and not catch It.
Jurgls Joined a gang and worked from
dawn till dark, eighteen hours a day,
for two weeks without a break. Then
he had a sum of money that would
have been a fortune to him In the old
days of misery—but what could he do
with It now? To be sure, he might
have put It In a bonk, and. If he were
fortunate, get It back again when he
wanted It. But Jurgls was now i
homeless man, wandering over a contl
nent, and what did he know of bank,
lag and drafts and letters of credit?
If he carried the money with him he
would surely be robbed In the end, aqd
so what was there for him to do but
enjoy It while he could? On a Satur
day night he drifted Into a town with
hls fellows, and because It was rain
ing, and there was no other place pro
vided for him, he went to a saloon.
And there were some who tikated him
and whom he had to treat, and there
was laughter and singing and good
cheer; and then out of the rear part
of the saloon a girl's face, red cheeked
and merry, smiled at Jurgls, and hls
heart thumped suddenly In hls throat.
He nodded to her, and she came and
sat by him, and they had more drink.
And then because or hls memories and
shame,.he was glad when others Jplned
them, men and women; and they had
more drink and spent the night In wild
rioting and debauchery. In the van
of the surplus-labor army there fol
lowed another, an army of women, they
also struggling for life under the stern
system of nature. Because there were
rich men who sought pleasure, there
had been ease and plenty for them so
long as they were young and beauti
ful; ond, later on, when they were
crowded out by others younger and
more beautiful, they went out to fol
low upon the trail of the workingmen.
Sometimes they came of themselves,
and the saloon-keepers shared with
them; or sometimes they were handled
by agencies, the same as the labor
army. They were In the towns In
harvest time, near the lumber camps
In the winter, la the cities when the
men came there; If a regiment were
encamped, or a railroad or canal be
ing made, or a great exposition get
ting ready, the crowd of women were
on hand, living In shanties or saloon*
or tenement rooms, sometimes eight
or ten of them together.
In the morning Jurgts had not
cent, and he went out upon the road
again. He was sick and disgusted, but
after the new plan of hls life he
crushed hls feelings down. He had
mode a fool of himself, but he could
not help It now—all he could do was
to see that It did not happen again. Bo
he tramped on until exercise and fresh
air banished hls headache, and hls
strength and Joy returned. This hap
pened to him every time, for Jurgls
was still a creature of Impulse, and hls
pleasure* had not yet become busi
ness. It would be a long lime before
he could be like the majority of these
men of the rood, who roamed until the
hunger for drink and for women mas
tered them and then went to work with
a purpose In mind and stopped when
they had the price of a spree.
On the contrary, try aa he would,
Jurgls could not help being made mis
erable by hls conscience. It was the
ghost that would not down. It would
come upon him In the most unexpected
places—sometimes It fairly drove him
to drink.
One night he was caught by a thun.
der storm and he sought shelter In a
little house Just outside of a town. It
was a workingman's home, nnd the
owner wo* a Slav like himself, a new
emigrant from White Russia; he bade
Jurgls welcome In hls home language,
and told him to come to the kitchen
fire and dry himself. He had no bed
for him. but there was straw In the
garret, and he could make nut. The
man's wife was cooking the supper, and
their children were playing about on
the floor. Jurgls sat and exchanged
thoughts with him about the Old Coun
try and the places where they had been
and the work they had done. Then
they ate, and afterward sat and
smoked and talked more about Amer
ica and how they found It. In the mid
dle of a sentence, however, Jurgls
stopped, seeing that the woman had
brought a big basin of water and was
proceeding to undress her youngest
baby. The rest had crawled Into the
closet where they slept, but the baby
was to have a bath, the workingman
explained. The nights had begun to be
chilly, and hls mother. Ignorant as to
the climate In America, hod sewed him
up for the winter; then It had turned
warm again, and some kind of a rash
had broken out on the child. The doc
tor had said she must bathe him every
night, and the foolish woman believed
him.
Jurgla scarcely heard the explana
tion; he was watching the baby. He
was about a year old, and a sturdy lit
tle fellow, with soft, fat lege, and a
round ball of a stomach, and eyes as
black os coals. Hls pimples did not
seem to bother him much, and he was
wild with glee over the bath, kicking
and squirming nnd chuckling with de
light, pulling at hls mother's face and
then at hls own little toes. When she
put him Into the basin he sat In the
water over himself and squealing like a
little pig. He spoke in Russian, of
which Jurgls knew some; he spoke It
with the quaintest of baby accent*—
nnd every word of it brought back to
Jurgls some word of hls own dead
lltlle one, and stabbed him like a knife.
He sat perfectly motionless, silent, but
gripping hla hands tightly, while a
storm gathered In hi* bosom and a
flood heaped Itself up behind hls eyes.
And In the end he could bear It no
more, but burled hls face In hls hands
and burst Into tears, to the alarm and
amazement of hla hosts. Between the
shame of this and hls woe, Jurgls
rould not stand It, and got up and
rushed out Into the rain.
Uc went tn and on down the rosd.
finally coming to a block woods, where
he hid and wept os It hls heart would
break. Ah, what agony was that, what
despair, when the tomb of memory was
rent open and the ghosts of hls old
life came forth to scourge him! What
terror to see what he had been and
now could never be—to see Ona and
hls child and hi* own dead self stretch
ing out their arms to him, calling to
him across a bottomless abyss—and
to know that they were gone from him
forever, and he writhing and suffocat
ing In the mire of hts own vlleness!
CHAPTER XXIII.
Early In the fall Jurgls set out for
Chicago again. All the Joy went out
of tramping as soon as a moq could
not keep warm in the hay, and, like
many thousands of others, he deluded
himself with the hope that by coming
early he could avoid the rush. He
SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
The Story of "The Jungle.” Upton Sinclair's novel, which caused the government investigation Into the
methods employed by the Beef Trust, has Its origin In nn actual Packlngtow n romance.
A simple-minded coterie of Lithuanians arrive In Chicago, seeking employment, and are conducted to
Packlngtowti by a friend. Jurgls. a giant In strength. Is betrothed to Ona. and the first chapter tells of the
welding In nil its grutaaquenass. After much tribulation the entire family obtains work In the stockyards—
all but Ona, who, Jurgls Mild, should liner work.
The terrlhlo tele of the slaughter houses Is told with almost revolting detail—the filth, the overworking
of hands, th- struggle to keep up with the pacemakers. Is all vividly depicted. The little family buys a house
on the Instalment plan, only to find they have been swindled, and Ona is forced to seek work to meet the
actual living expenses and the Interest on the purchase contract, of which they learn too late.
Just as Ona and Jurgls pay Marija what they owe her, Jurgls turns hls ankle and Is laid up. for months.
Hls nature begins to change. He becomes cross and savage with pain. Starvation stares the fan| ly In the (pee.
Then Ona 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. Jurgls almost kill* her. Then he rushes blindly to the yards and tries to kill Connor, sinking hls teeth
Into him, and u dragged off by a dozen men. Jurgla Is then arrested, and spends Christmas Eva In prison,
awaiting trial.
Later ho Is sentenced to thirty days in prison. Finally he Is released and returns to what was once hls
home. Another family has It.
Jurgla trnces hla family to a shanty to find hls wife dying. Ho seeks a midwife, who laughs In hls face
when he te|| s i ier he has only a dollar and a quarter, but she finally relents and goes with him. At the door of
the shanty Marija meets and entreats him to go away until the morning. He walks the streets all night, and
reaches home In the morning In time to close hie wife's eyes In death. Then he takes to drink In earnest.
Jurgls is blacklisted In every packing house by Connor, but finally obtains a Job with the Harvester Trust.
The department In which he works closes down. Starvation again Is Imminent,.but a philanthropic woman came
to hls rescue and gets the Lithuanian a Job In a steel factory. Meanwhile the hero's son has died, and he Is left
practically alone In the world, with resentment against conditions gradually growing stronger In him.
Copyright, 1906, by Upton Sinclair. All rights resorvtd.
brought fifteen dollars with him, hid
den nway In one of hls shoes, a sum
which had been saved from hls saloon
keepers, not so much by hls conscience
aa by the fear which filled him at the
thought of being out of work In the
city In the winter time.
He traveled upon the railroad with
several other men, hiding In freight
care at night, and liable to be thrown
off at any time, regardless of the speed
of the train. When he reached the
city he left the rest, for he had money
and they did not, and he meant to aava
himself In this fight. He would bring
to It all the skill that practice had
brought him, and he would stand, who
ever fell. On fair nights he would
sleep In the park or on a truck or an
empty barrel or box, and when It was
rainy or cold he would stow himself
upon a sbelf In a ten-cent lodging
house, or pay three cents for the priv
ileges of a “squatter” In a tenement
hallway. He would eat at free lunches,
live cents a meal, nnd never a cent
more—so be might keep alive for tv a
months and more, and In that time he
would eurely And a job. He would
have to bid farewell to hla summer
cleanliness, of course, for he would
come out of the first night's lodging
with hls clothes alive with vermin.
There was no place In the city where
he could wash even hls face, unless he
went down to the lake front, and there
It would aoon be all Ice.
First, he went to the steel mill and
the harvester works, and found that
hls places there had been filled long
ago. He waa careful to keep away
from the atock yards—he was a single
man now, he told himself, and he meant
to stay , one, to have hls wages for hls
own -when he got a job. He began the
long, wenry round of factories and
warehouses, tramping all day, from one
end of the city to the other, finding
every where from ten to a hundred
men ahead of him. He watched the
newapapers, too—but no longer was
he to be taken In by amooth-spoken
agents. He had been told of all those
tricks while "on the road."
In the end It was through a news
paper that ha got a Job, after nearly a
month of seeking. It was a call for a
hundred laborers, and though he
thought It a "fake." he went because
the place woe near by. He found a
line of men a block long, but as a
wagon chanced to come out of an alley
and break the line; be saw hls chanoe
and sprang to seise a place. Men
threatened him and tried to throw him
out, but he cursed and made a dis
turbance to attract a policeman, upon
which they subsided, knowing that If
the lattor Interfered It would be to
’fire" them all.
An hour or two later he entered a
room and confronted a big Irishman
behind a desk.
"Ever worked In Chicago before?"
the man Inquired, and whether It waa
a good angel that put Into Jurgls’ mind,
or an Intuition of hls sharpened wits,
he was moved to anewer, "No, sir."
••Where do you come from?"
"Kansas City, sir."
"Any references?"
"No, sir. I’m Just an unskilled man.
ve got good arms,” ,
"I want men for hard work—lt'a all
underground, digging tunnels for tele
phones. Maybe It won’t suit you.
"I’m willing, sir—anything for me.
What's the pay?"
"Fifteen cents an hour.”
Tm willing, sir."
"All right; go back there and give
your name."
So within half an hour he waa at
work, far beneath the street! of the
city. The tunnel was a peculiar one
for telephone wires; It wa* about eight
feet high, and with a level floor nearly
aa wide. It had Innumerable branches
perfect spider-web beneath the
city; Jurglt walked over half a mile
with hts gang to the place where they
were to work. Stranger yet, the tun
nel was lighted by electricity, and upon
It was laid a double-tracked, narrow-
gauge railroad!
But Jurgls was not there to ask
questions, and he did not give the mat
ter a thought. It waa nearly a year
afterwards when he finally learned the
meaning of this whole affair. The city
council had passed a quiet and inno
cent little bill allowing a company to
construct telephone conduits under the
city streets and upon the strength of
this, a great corporation bad proceeded
to tunnel all Chicago with a system
of railway freight subways In the city
there waa a combination of employers,
" millions of
purpose of
capital, am
crushing the labor unions.
The chief union which troubled It
was the teamsters; and when these
freight tunnels were completed, con
necting all the big factories and stores
with the railroad depots, they would
have the Teamsters' Union by the
throat Now and then there were ru
mors and murmurs In the board of al
dermen, and once there was a commit
tee to Investigate—but each time an
other small fortune was paid over, and
the rumors died away; until at last
the city woke up with a start to find
the work completed. There was a tre
mendous scandal, of course; It we*
found that the city record* had been
falsified and other crimes committed,
and some of Chicago's big capitalists
got Into • Jail—figuratively speaking.
The aldermen declared that they had
no Idea of It all. In spite of the fact
that the main entrance to the work
had been In the rear of the saloon of
one of them.
It waa In a newly opened cut that
Jurgls worked, and so he knew that he
had an all winter Job. He was so re
joiced that he treated himself 16 a spree
that night, and with the balance of hls
money he hired himself a place In a
tenement room, where he slept upon a
big home-made straw mattress along
with four other workingmen. This was
61 a week, and for four more he got hls
food In a boarding house near hla work.
This would leave him four dollars ex
tra each week, an unthinkable oum
for him. Atetbe outset he had to pay
for hla digging toola, and alao to buy n
pair of heavy boota, alnce hls shoes
were falling to pieces, and a flannel
shirt, since tha one he had worn all
summer was In shreds.
He spent a week meditating whether
or not he should also buy an overcoat.
There was one belonging to a Hebrew
collar button peddler, who had died In
the room next to him, nnd which the
landlady won holding for her rent; In
the end, however, Jurgls decided to
do without It, as he was to be under-
'ound by day and In bed at night.
This was an unfortunate decision,
however, for it drove him more quickly
than ever Into the saloons.' From now
on Jurgls worked from 7 o'clock until
6:10, with half an hour for dinner,
which meant that he never saw the
sunlight on week days. In the eve
nings there was no place for him to go
except to a barroom; no place where
there waa light and warmth, where he
could hear a little music or sit with s
companion and talk. He had now no
home to go to; he hod no affection left
In hls life; only the pitiful mockery of
It In the camaraderie of vice. On Sun-,
days the cmirches were open, but where
was there a church In which an 111-
smelllng workingman could alt without
toeing people edge away and look an
noyed? He had, of course, hla comer In
a close though unheated room, with a
window opening upon a blank wall two
feet away; and also he had the bare
streets, with th* winter gales sweeping
through them; besides this he had
only the saloons—and, of course, he had
to drink to stay In them.
If he drank now and then he was
free to make himself at home, to gam
ble with dice or a pack of grsasy cards,
to play at a dingy pool table for money,
or to look at a beer-stained pink
"sporting paper,” with pictures of mur
derers and half-naked women. It was
for such pleasures as these that he
spent hls money; and such was hls life
during the six weeks and a half that
he tolled for the merchants of Chicago,
to enable them to break the grip of
their Teamsters' Union.
In a work thus carried out, not much
thought was given to the welfare of
the laborers. On an average, the tun
nelling cost a life a day and several
mangllngs; It was seldom, however,
that more than a dozen or two men
heard of any one accident. The work
waa all done by the new boring ma
chinery, with ae little blasting as pos-
zlble; but thera would be falling rocks
and crushed supports and premature
explosions—and In addition all tha
dangers of railroading. So It was that
one night, aa Jurgla waa on hls way
out with hla gang, an engine end a
loaded car dashed around one of the
Innumerable right-angle branches end
struck him upon tha shoulder, hurling
him against the concrete wall and
knocking him senseless.
When he opened hls eyes again It
waa to the clanging of the bell of an
ambulance. Ho waa lying In It, cov
ered by a blanket, and It was thread
ing Its way slowly through the holiday
shopping crowds. They took him to
the county hospital, where a young
surgeon set hls arm; than he was
washed and laid upon a bed In a ward
with a score or two more of maimed
and mangled men.
Jurgls spent hls Christmas In this
hospital, and It was the pleasantest
Christmas ha had had In America.
Every year there were scandals and
Investigation* In this Institution, th*
newspapers charging that doctors were
allowed to try fantastic experiments
upon th* patients; but Jurgls knew
nothing of thl*—hls only complaint waa
that they used to feed him upon tinned
meat, which no man who had ever
worked In Packlngtown would feed to
hla dog. Jurgls had often wondered
Juat who ate the canned corned beet
and “roast beef of the stock yards;
now he began to understand—that It
waa what you might call •'graft meat,"
put up to be sold to public officials
and contractors, and eaten by soldiers
and sailors, prisoners and Inmate* of
Instltulons, "shanty-men'' and gangs of
railroad laborers.
Jurgls was ready to leave the hoe-
S ltal at the end of two weeks Thl*
Id not mean that hls arm was strong
and that he was able to go back to
work, but simply that he could get
along without further attention, and
that hls place was needed for some
one worse off than he. That he ires
utterly helpless, and had no means of
keeping himself alive In the meantime
was something which did not concern
the hospital authorities, nor any one
els* in the city.
Aa It chanced, he had been hurt on
a Monday, and had Just paid for hls
last week's board and hls room rent,
and spent nearly all the balance of hls
Saturday's pay. He had lei* than 75
cents tn hls pockets, and tl.60 due him
for the day's work he had done before
he was hurt. He might possibly have
sued the company, and got aome dam
ages for hls injuries, but be did not
earn another cent for months. The
snow meant no chance to him now; he
must walk along and see others shov
eling, vigorous and active—and he with
hls left arm bound to hls side!. He
could not hope to tide himself over by
odd Jobs Of loading trucks; he could
mayoe umi n Draco you up. Ani
“Jf" 1 ® 1 kecaiuse he was now at the they wou ld drink together, and if
m '” v XVn tramp was sufficiently wretched look-
then one had to Duy another drink
or move on. That Jurgls was on old
customer entitled him to a somewhat
longer slop; but then he had been away
two weeks, and waa evidently "on the
bum." He might plead and tell hla
"hard luck story,” but that would net
help him much. A saloon keeper who
was to be moved by such means would
soon have hls place jammed to th*
doors with "hoboes" on a day like this
So Jurgls went out Into another place
anil paid another nickel. He was as
hungry this time that he could not re
sist the hot beef stew, an Indulgence
which cut short hls stny by a consid
erable time. When he wr* again told
to move on he made hls way to a
"tough” place In the "Levee" dlitrlct,
where how nnd then he hRd gone with
a certain rat-eyed Bohemian working
man of hls acquaintance. It was Jur
gls' vain hope that here the proprietor
would let him remain as a "sitter."
In low-class places, In the dead of
winter, saloon keepers would often al
low one or two forlorn-looking bums
who came In covered with snow or
soaked with rain to sit by the fire and
look miserable to attract custom. A
workingman would come in, feeling
cheerful after hls day’s work was over,
and It would trouble him to have to
take hls glass with such a sight under
hls nose; and so he would call out;
"Hello, Bob, what’s the matter? Tou
look as If you'd been un against It!”
And.then the other would begin to pour
out some tale of misery, and the man
would say, "Come have a glass, and
maybe thnt'll brace you up." And so
mercy of any rival. Word* could not
point the terror that come over him
as he realized all this. He was like
a wounded animal In the forest; he was
forced to compete with hls enemies
upon unequal terms. There would be
no consideration for him because of
hla weakness—It was no one's business
to help him In such distress, to make
the fight the least bit easier for him.
Even If he took to begging, be would
be at a disadvantage, tor reasons which
he was to discover In good time.
In the beginning he could not think
of anything except getting out of the
awful cold. Ha went Into one of the
saloons he had been wont to frequent
and bought a drink, and then stood by
the fire shivering and welting to be or
dered out. According to an unwritten
law, the buying a drink Included the
privilege of loafing for Juat so long;
lng, or good enough at the “gab,” they
might have two; and If they were to
discover that they were from the same
country, or had lived In the some city
or worked at the same trade, they
might sit down at a table and spend
an hour or two In talking, and before
they got through the saloon keeper
would have taken In a dollar. . All of
thl* might seem diabolical, but the sa
loon keeper was In no wise to blame
for It. He was In the same plight as
the manufacturer who ho* to adulter
ate and misrepresent hls product. If
he does not, some one else will; and
the saloon keeper, unless he Is also
an alderman, Is apt to be In debt to
the big brewers, and on the verge of
being sold out.
(Continued In Monday's Georgian.)
KING OF ENGLAND
Becomes Frightened Afte^
Bomb Outrage at
Madrid.
By RICHARD ABERCORN.
Blare the outrage at Madrid, the king
has shown s marked dislike to driving In a
horsed csrrisge. Whenever It Is possible,
he usee one of hls motor csrs, nnd lielng
exempt from the ordinary speed regulations
of the rood, he travels ss fast aa passible.
The reason for this nervousuess Is the
fact that t fortnight ago, the Scotland
Yard detectives obtained possession of a
letter showing thst the most dangerous
gnng of nnntehlets have now added King
Edivnrd to their list of "marked men."
The other names on the list sre President
Roosevelt nnd King Alfouso, of Spain.
The original nnonymone letter to which
tbs police attach some Importance Is In pos
session of the king, who appeared to pass
ovtr the matter Tightly. The letter bae
been shown almost jokingly to various mem
bers of the royal household, but at the
same time It Is Known thst the detectives
The shameful way poor Irish women sre
made tn work for no wages at all has been
described before s government committee
by Factory Inspector lloea M. Squire.
Speaking of the “truck,” or paymenl-ln-
kind, eyetem, as worked In the north of
- land, Miss Squire said:
'In Donegal, I found that poor women
Ireland,
"In Iiuiir|ii| a tuuiiu nun iiuvi irvuitiu
walk many miles Into towns, where wool
Is given out to them, which they take Iwck
to their aqutlld cabins and knit Into stock
ings or gloves, receiving no payment, ex
cept In ten xnt groceries the former be-
lng charged against them at 3a M a pound
(Si cents), the ordinary price for good tea
lielng <0 or 69 cents). No money pissed
and the workers can not get coin.”
Before she can earn her pound of tea,
CHUBBY CHARLEY,
CAPITOL LANDMARK
Continued from Page Five.
it a pair.
I at <1.60 to
The houses of the worker*,'' continued
Miss Squire, "sre Isolated, one-story cabins,
perched on rock, soli or standing In bogs,
with mud floors, snd generally a cow, and,
perhaps, a calf, bnt always n pig, with
cocks and hens In the living room.”
Miss Squire'* picture of the Irish peas
ant’s cabin Is only too familiar, since the
■ad events of 1846-H4S, but the terrible
most English people.
wrongs, that la, to
Ith a Urge and patrician 8 now
.— -.r.., own „ , g
most oniU
pubiieet'lon, with princesses, duchesses and
untesees as editors.
know this, and It was not the com-
6 ■ritsinic fmtara/to pany's business to tell him. He went
Vitsin. Orbs. Her. and gdt bU pay and hU tool*, which
rklif. Ceube. Ckbraf. be left In a pawnshop for 60 cents.
Uteres ieC Hesreillt- Then he went to hts landlady, who had
e/e er Scree fiteeib’ee. rented hls place and bad no other for
Th.del. (..lee letll him: and then to hls boarding house
IM UnlJ htelej keeper, who looked him over and ques
tioned him. As he must certainly be
helpless for a couple of months, and
had boarded there only six weeks, she
decided very quickly that It would not
(bssbssshbi be worth the risk to keep him on trust.
So Jurgls went out Into th* streets,
end WHWKfiY HABITS (n a most dreadful plight. It was bit-
«ur*i*t>*ras wllte | ter)y cold, and a heffry snow was fall-
*>* a tlns Into hla face. He had no
v ivo.li i i v v'n overcoat, and no place to go, and two
7*T5*^>fficc 1<M 8. Pryor Street, dollar* and elxty-flve centnTn hie Pock
et. with the certainty that he could not
tide in Georg!*.
235 Capitol hi., ATLANTA, 6JL
Society with a Urge and patrli
has n weekly publication of Its i
called The Throne, snd Is a m
countesses as editors.
The paper has orer thirty editors. In
Society with a capital 8 It wts quite Itn
possible to have only one editor, ao all
the contributors have been made editors,
and th# heartrending# have been avoided.
Among these dUtlngulshed Journalists ere
Princess Christian, the duchess ot Somerset,
Lady Victoria Manners, Susan, countess
of Malmesbury; dowager countess ot Dud
ley, dowager countess of Rottenham, coun
tess of l-yttou, lady Archibald Campbell.
Viscountess Gslway, Lady Montague of
Beaulieu, lady Armstrong, Lady Helen
rorbes, Lady Augusta Fane, linn. Lady
Bellingham, Hon. Mrs Anstruther, linn.
C Sybil Leigh, lady Palmer, lady Susan
Yorks, the ranee of Sarawak, lady Broome,
ioceso Henry of l'leta La, Princess Be-
esaagne, the Marcheaa DlConsenttne. nnd
a dozen other persoux ot less distinguished
titles.
The vnlgxr public was considerately
given an opportunity of seeing the Prat
number which waa aold at the newspaper
stands for a shilling. The following num
bers, however, are not available, except
to yearly subscribers at 9U each per year.
It is currently reported that eve* the aub-
scrihera will be regarded with a social
microscope before their name* will be final
ly permitted to remain on the subscription
lists. The new publication typographi
cally Is a handsome affair, but with inch
a ataff of editors the letter preea la aur-
prlslngly disappointing. The eecrete of
courts and the wonderful stories that the
adrance notice* of the pnbllmUon lead the
public to believe would appear were con
spicuous by their abeeuce.
Jng from the first number. It 1* believed
that the king hns put hts foot down on the
princess' tncnralon Into Journalism.
Edible mean* sre the "latest novelty”
for smart dinner parties, where the guests
may eat their bill of fare aa a sweet at
the end of the meal. These sweet meat
means are the Invention ot Herr TVIIIy,
who la aald to be the greatest sugar Icing
expert In the world. They are made of
K nk marzapln. and the lettering la dona
the finest sugar Icing. Inclosed In a Ut-
Ue box, which Is propped upright by the
aide of every guest's plate, the edible
menu la an ornament, aa well as a bonne
ever for a Job, ten years at It ought
to demonstrate It. In 1694 Charles
Northen, minus much of the rotundity
at the belt line and the white In the
hair, but with the ‘Tll-do-lt-for-you-
If-lt-bustB-a-trace” air then upon hit
open and pleasant countenance, came
to the senate as assistant to Secretary
Bill" Clifton. The late W. H. Ven-
able was president of the upper house.
Through the Venablq presidency In
1894-6 and the term of Robert L. Ber
ner, 1896-7, Mr. Northen served as as
sistant to Secretary Clifton. He "made
good” In great shape. Men who came
up to Atlanta as lawmakers began to
know and regard ‘with favor this
cherubic-faced young man.
Then the senate of 1898-9 was elect
ed and W. C. Dodson waa named as tbs
presiding officer. Charley Northen was
elected secretary of the body easily
over what was considered strong oppo
sition.
And thera he remains placidly mov
ing through th* dally routine of the
sessions. He was with Clark Howell
In hli two tenures as president, from
1900 to 1964. When this senate was
elected a contest cams on for the pres
idency of the body that lasted through
some days. But Charlay Northen had
the Job of secretary cinched whoever
might be the man.
Opposition Always Melts.
Opposition he has nearly always had,
but It ha* melted away usually before
the selection was mod*. Once a rival
candidate got five vote*. That's as
near an any fellow ha* ever come to
deposing him.
And the odds are that he will be at
the same old stand doing business
when the senate of 1907-8 Is called to
order by whoever Is selected for the
presidency.
One of the sscrets of hi* success—
which will be wantonly divulged here
to the fact that he surrounds himself
with good men os hls olds In the cler
ical work of the senate. Captain
Charles P. Hansell, of Thomasvllle, to
assistant secretory; Judge Tyson, cal
endar clerk; Guerry Brannon, of
OtorK»tovn, chief clerk, and Flynn
Hargett, of Columbus, messenger.
To ninety-nine men out of a hun
dred the Hon. Charles S. Northen I*
Just "Charley.” He 1* the kind of *
K nlal personality that Invite# It, and
cause he 1s "Charley” to them, h*
continues as secretary of the Georgia
senate, though the political fortunes of
other men rise only to crumble In dust.
WEEK-END RITES FROM
ATLANTA VI*
Tallulah Falls .. .. ..
Mt.* Airy
Llthla Springs
Indian Spring*
Warm Springs .. ..
Cumberland laland ....
Atlantic Beach
Lookout Mountain ....
St. 8lmons •
Asheville
Lake Toxeway
Tryon
Saluda
Gainesville
Toccoa ... >
Ncrcrott
Suwanee .....
Tallapoosa
White Sulphur ..... ..
Tlckett on sale every Saturday 9 00<)
to return following Monday.
J. C. BEAM, JR., D- p - K
. .* 3.25
22.40
.. .60
.. 200
.. 225
.. 8.25
.. 10.10
.. 4. 10
.. 825
.. 7.95
.. 8.70
.. 6«0
.. «•**
.. i«o
,. 2-30
,. -oo
.. •**
2.00
120