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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