Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN. im 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, 1808, by Upton Sinclair. CHAPTER XXII—(CONTINUED) All rights reserved. • — When he awoke the aun waa shining h't In hla face. He aat up and atrelched hla arm a, and then iraaed at the water gliding by. There waa deep pool, aheltered and silent, below him, and a audden wonderful Idea rushed upon him. He might have bath. The water waa' free, and he might get Into It—all the way Into It! It would be the 11 rat time that he had been all the way Into the water since he left Lithuania! When Jurats had first come to the stock yards he had been aa clean as any workingman could well be. But later on, what with sickness and cold and hunger and discouragement, and the filthiness of hla work, and the vermin In hla home, he had given up washing In winter, and In summer only as much of him as would go Into a basin. He had had a shower bath In Jail, but nothing since—and now be would have a swim! The water was warm, and he splash ed about like a very boy In hla glee. Afterwards he aat down In the water near the bank and proceeded to scrub himself—soberly and methodically, scouring every Inch of him with sand. While he was doing It he would do It thoroughly, and sea how It felt to be clean. Then, seeing that the sun 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 Jie grunted with satisfaction and soused the clothes again, venturing even to dream that he might get lid of the fer tilizer. He hung them all up, and while they were drying he lay down In the sun and had another long sleep. They were hot and stiff as boards on top, and a little ■lamp on the under side, when he nwnkened: but being hungry, he put them on and set out again. He had no knife, but with some Tabor he broke himself a good, stout club, and, armed Cll t KtxiU) slum UUU| nun. niiiini 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 Just supper time, and the farmer was washing his 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 outl Jurgls went without a word. But aa he passed round the barn he came to a freshly plowed and harrowed field, In which the farmer had set out some voung peach trees; and as he walked ho Jerked up a row of them by the roots, more than a hundred trees In nil, before he reached the end of the Held. That was his answer, and It showed his mood; from now on he waa lighting, 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 Hold of winter grain, and came at lost to another road. Before long he saw unother farm house, and, as It waa bogimiing to cloud over a little, be naked here for shelter as well os food. Seeing the farmer eyeing him dubious ly, he added, "I'll be glad to sleep In the barr..” "Well, I dunno,” said the other. "Do you smoke?" "Sometimes," said Jurgls, "but Til do It out of doors.” When the man had assented, he Inquired, “How much will It cost me? I haven’t very much money." "I reckon about 10 cents for sup per,” replied the farmer. “I won’t charge ye for the barn." So Jurgls went In, and sat down at the table with the farmer’s wife and half a dozen children. It was a boun tiful meal—there were baked beans and mashed potatoes and asparagus chopped and stewed, and g dish of strawberries, and great, thick slices of bread, and a pitcher of milk. Jurgls had not had such a feast since hts wedding day. and he made a mighty effort to put In hlslo cents' worth. They were all of them too hungry to talk; but afterwards they sat upon the steps and smoked, ana 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 was bound, the other said. "Why don’t you stay here and work for me?” "I’m not looking for work Just now.” Jurgls answered. *T1I pay ye good,” said the other, eyeing his big form—"a dollar a day and board jre. Help's terrible scarce the orchard, and potatoes In the ground —he learned to note the places and fill his pockets after dark. Twice he 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 hla lively fashion was 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 Jurgla 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 waa 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 loose beneath the open sky, to behold new landscapes new places and new people every hour! To a man whose whole life had con sisted of doing one certain thing all day, until he was so exhausted that be could only lie down and sleep until the next day—and to be now hla own master, working as 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 forgotten! It came with a sudden rush, bewildering him, startling him; It was as If hla 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 Messed him, he would awaken from ils sleep and start oft not knowing what to do with hla energy, stretching hla arms, laughing, singing old songs of home that came back to him. Now and then, of course, he could not help but think of little Antonas, whom he should neyer see again; whose little voice he should never hear; and then he would have to battle with himself. Sometime* at night he would waken dreaming of Ona and stretch out hla arms to her, and wet the ground with hla tears. But In the morning he would gat up and shake himself, and stride away again to battle with the world. He never asked where he was nor where he 'was going: the country waa big enough, he knew, and there was no danger of hla 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 waa welcome to Join. He was- a stranger at the busi ness, but they were not clannish, and they taught him all their tricks—what towns and villages It was bast 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 hie Ideas of raying for anything with money or u III. \v..ik f..r they K"t nil they mini, ed without either. Now and then Jur- 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 his 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 n bank, and. If he were fortunate, get It back again when he wanted It. But Jurgls was now . homeless man, wandering over a contl nent, and what did he know of bank Ing and drafts and letters of credit? If he carried the money with him he would surely be robbed In the end, ami so what was there for him to do but enjoy It while he could? On a Satur round here.' “Is that winter aa well as summer?” Jurgls demanded quickly. "N-no," said the farmer; "I couldn’t keep ye after November—I ain't got a big enough place for that.' ‘1 sea,” said tba other, "that's what I thought. When you get through working your horses this fall, will you turn them out In the anowr (Jurgla waa beginning to think for himself nowadays.) „ . "It ain’t quite the same.” the farmer answered, seeing the point "There ought to be work a strong fellow like you can find to do; In the cities, or Homo plnce, In the winter time." "Tea," said Jurgls. "that's what they all think; and so they crowd Into the cities, and when they have to beg or steal to live, and people aak 'em why they don’t go Into the country, where help la scarce.” The farmer meditated a while. "How about when your money's goner he Inquired finally. “Toull have to, then, won’t your ••Walt till It's rone.” i •Walt tlU 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 It cents, perhaps having been Influenced by his arguments. Then Jurats bade farewell, and went on hU way. Such was the beginning of his life as a tramp. It was seldom he got as fair treatment as from this last farmer, and so as time went on )>• learned to shun the house and to prefer sleeping in the fields. When It rained he would find a deserted building. If he could, and If not, he would wait until after dark and then, with his 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 be bad once been, but his arms were stUI 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 bis money; and there were apples In !_ some woodland haunt, and foraged with them In the neighborhood night And thon 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 coarse, been shiftless and vicious all their lives. But the vast majority of them bad been working men. had fought the long fight as Jujr- gla had, and found that It was a losing fight, and 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 fields. Of these there was an army, the huge surplus labor army of society; called Into being under the stern system of nature, to do the casual work of the world, the tasks which were transient and Irregular, and yet which had to be dona They did not know that they were such, of course; they only knew that they sought the Job, and that the Job waa fleeting. In the early summer 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 there—the loading and unloading of steamships and drays, the digging of ditches and the shovelling , of snow. If there were 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 find others to help them for a week or two. So all over the land there was a cry for labor- agencies were set up and all the cities Brass Beds, Tba latest and most exclu sive designs manufactured. Quality and Prices Unequaled. The best 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. lows, and because It was rain Ing. and there was no other place pro vided for him, he went to a snloon. And there were some who treated him and .whom he had to treat, and there was laughter and singing and good cheer; and then out or ihe rear part of the saloon a girl’s face, red cheeked and merry, smiled at Jurgla and hts heart thumped suddenly In his throat. He nodded to hsr, and she came and sat by him, and they had more drink. And then because of his memories and shame, he was glad when others Joined 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 S rstem of nature. Because there were ch men who sought pleasure, there had been ease and plenty for them so long as they were young and beauti ful; and, 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 ware handled by agencies, the same as the labor army. They were In the towns In harvest time, near the lumber camps In the winter, in the cities when the men came there; If a regiment were encamped, or a railroad or canal be Ing made, or a great expoaltlon get ting ready, the crowd of women were on hand, living In shanties or saloons or tenement rooms, sometimes eight or ten of them together. In the morning Jurgls had not cent, and he went out upon the road again. He was sick and disgusted, but after the new plan of hla life he crushed his feelings down. He had made a fool of himself, but he could not help It now—all he could do wag to see that It did not happen again. So he tramped on until exercise and fresh air banished his headache, and his strength and Joy returned. This hap pened to him every time, for Jurgls waa still a creature of Impulse, and his pleasures had not yet become busi ness. It would be a long time before he could be like the majority of these men of the road, 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 as he would, Jurgls could not help being made mis erable by his 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, and the owner waa a Slav like himself, a new emigrant from White Russia; he bade Jurgls welcome In his home language, and told him to come to the kitchen fire and dry himself. He hod no bed for him. but there was straw In the garret, and he could make out 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 placaa where they had been •nd 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 his mother. Ignorant as to the climate In America, had 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. Jurgls scarcely heard the explana tlon; he was watching the baby. He was about a year old, and a sturdy lit tle fellow, with soft, fat legs, an<k a round ball of a stomach, and eyes as black as coals. Ills pimples did not seem to bother him much, and he was wild with glee over the bath, kicking and squirming and chuckling with de light, pulling at his mother’s fkse and then at his 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 accents— and every word of It brought back to Jurgls some word of his own dead little one. and stabbed him like a knife. He sat perfectly motionless, silent, but gripping his hands tightly, while a stori.t gathered In his bosom and a Hood heaped Itself up behind his eyes. And In the end he could bear It no more, but buried his face In hla hands and burst Into tears, to the alarm and amarement of his hosts Between the shame of this and hla woe, Jurgls could not stand It, and got up and rushed out Into the rain. Uo went tn and on down the road, finally coming to a black woods where he hid and wept as If his heart would break. Ah. what agony was that, what despair, when the tomb of memory was rent open and the ghosts of his old life came forth to scourge him! What terror to see what he had been and now could never be—to see Ona and his child and his 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 his own vileness! SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS Th* utory of “Tho Jungle,” Upton Sinclair’* novel, which caused the government Investigation Into the methods employed by the Beef Trust, has its origin In an actual Packlngtbwn romance. A simple-minded coterie of Lithuanians arrive In Chicago, seeking employment, and are conducted to Packing town by a friend. Jurgls, a giant In strength. Is betrothed to Ona, and the first chapter tells of the wedding In nil its grotesquenesi. After much tribulation the entire family obtains work In the stockyards— all but Ona, who, Jurgls said, should never work. The terrible tale of the slaughter houses Is told with almost revolting detail—the filth, the overworking of hand*, the 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 expense* and the Interest on the purchase contract, of which they learn too late. Just as Ona and Jurgls pay Maiija what they owe her, Jurgls turns his ankle and Is laid up for months. Ills naturs begins to change. He becomes cross and savage with pain. Starvation stares the fantyly In the <pce. . 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, hod forced her to receive attentions from him. Jurgls almost kills her. Then he rushes blindly to the yardB and tries to kill Connor, sinking hts teeth Into him, and Is dragged off by a dozen men. Jurgls is then arrested, and spends Christmas Eve In prison, awaiting trial. ^ • Later he fs sentenced to thirty days In prison. Finally he Is released and returns to what was once his home. Another family has IL Jurgls traces his family to a shinty to find hfs wife dying. He seeks A midwife, who laughs In his face when he tells her he has only a dollar and a quarter, but she finally relents and goes with him. At the door of the shanty Marlja meets and entreats him to go nway until the morning. He walks the streets all night, and r<-»< he* Imm- in :} • •. V-*- ’ • <!'•«•• Ml* w ieyes in d#*:ith. Then he takes to drink In earnest. Jurgls is blacklisted in every packing house by Connor, brut finally obtains a Job with the Harvester Trust The department In Which he works closes down. Htarvatlon again is Imminent, but a philanthropic woman came to his 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 reserved. then one had to ouy another drink or move on. That Jurgls was An old customer entitled him to a somewhat longer stop; but then he had been away | two weeks, and was evidently "on the might plead and tell hla Btnrv” hut that — . "hard luck story,” but that would not help him much. A saloon keeper who was to be moved by eueh means would place jammed to the brought fifteen dollars with him, hid. den away In ono of his shoes, a sum which had been aaved from his saloon keepers, not so much by hla conscience os 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 cars 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 save himself In this fight He would bring to It all the skill that practice had brought him. and ha would stand, who ever fell. On fair nights he would Bleep 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 shelf 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, five cent, a meal, nnd never a cent more—so ha might keep alive for two months and more, and In that time he would surely find 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 his clothes alive with vermin. There was no place In the city where he could wash evsn his face, unleae he went down to the lake front, and there It would soon be all Ice. First, he went to the steel mill and the harvester works, and found that hts places thare had been filled long ago. He was careful to keep away from the stock yards—he was a tingle man now, he told himself, and he meant to stay one, to have hla wages for his own when he got a Job. He began the long, weary 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 newspapers, too—but no longer was he to be taken In by smooth-spoken agents. He hnd been told of all those tricks whljo ”on the road." In the end It was through a news paper that he 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 was near by. He found.a line of men a block long, but aa a wagon chanced to come out of an alley and break tha line, he saw hie chance and sprang to eelse 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 latter 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 mah Inquired, and whether It waa a good angel that put Into Jurgla’ mind, or an Intuition of his eharpened wits, hs was moved to answer, "No, sir.” “Where do you come from?” "Kansas City, sir.’’ "Any references?” "No, sir. I'm Just an unskilled man. I’ve got good arms." ”1 want man for hard work—It's 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 cenla an hour.” "I’m willing, air.” "All right; go back there and give your name." \ So within half an hour he was at work, far beneath the streets of the city. The tunnel was a peculiar one for telephone wires; It was about eight ■feet high, and with a level floor nearly wide. It had Innumerable, branches —a perfect spider-web beneath the city; Jurgls walked over halt a mile with hla gang to thd place where they nel was lighted by electricity, and i laid a double-tracked, nan .. waa laid gauge railroad! But Jurgls was not there to aak 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 ~h*d passed a quiet and Inno cent little bill allot allowing a company to construct telephone conduits under the city streets and upon the strength of this, a great corporation had proceeded to tunnel all Chicago with a eyatem of railway freight subways in the city there was a combination of employers, representing hundreds of millions of capital, and formed .for the purpose of 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 dermen, and once mere was a comma- tee to Investigate—but each time an other small fortune was paid over, and the rumors died away; until at last Ihe city woke up with a start to find the work completed. There was a tre mendous scandal, of course; It was found that the city records had been falsified and other crimes committed, and some of Chicago's big capitalists got Into jntl—figuratively speaking. ' ’he 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 ealoon of one of them. It was In a newly opened cut that Jurgls worked, and so he knew that he ’i■ *• I on .-ill -.i Ini*-r J *1* lie wn.e .«•> re jolred that he treated himself to a spree that night, and with the bnlunre „f tils money he hired himself a place In tenement room, where he slept upon big home-made straw mattress along with four other workingmen. This waa 11 a week, and for four more he got his food In a boarding house near his work. This would leave him four dollars ex tra each week, an unthinkable sum for’hlm. At the outset he had to pay for his digging tools, and also to buy a pair of heavy boots, since his shoes were falling to pieces, and n flannel shirt, since the one He had worn all summer was In shreds. He spent a week meditating whether or not he should also buy an overcoat There waamne belonging to a Hebrew collar button peddler, who had died In tha room next to him, and which tha landlady was holding for'her rent: In tha end, however, Jurgls decided to do without It as he was to be under ground 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 8:10, with half an hour for dinner, which meant that he never saw the sunlight on week days. In the eve nlngs there was no place for him to go except to a barroom; no place where there was light and warmth, where he could hear a little music or sit with a companion and talk. He had now no home to go to; he had no affection left In his life; only the pitiful mockery of It In the camaraderie of vice. On Sun days the churches were open, but where was there a church In which an Ill- smelling workingman coaid sit without seeing people edge away and look an noyed? He had, of course, his corner 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 tbs winter galas sweeping through them; besides this he hat only the saloons—and, of course, he had to drink to stay In them. If he drank now and then he was Ires to make himself at home, to gam ble with dice or a pack of greasy 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 waa for such pleasures aa these that ha spent hts money; and such was hla life during the elx weeks and a half that he toiled 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 waa given to the welfare of the laborers. On an average, the tun nelling cost a life a day and several raanglings; It was seldom, however, that more than a dozen or two men heard of any one accident The work waa alt done by the new boring ma chinery, with as little blasting as pos sible; but there would be falling rocks and crushed supports and premature explosions—and In addition all the dangers of railroading. So It waa that one night, as Jurgls was on his way out with his gang, an engine and a loaded car dashed around one of the Innumerable right-angle branches and struck him upon the shoulder, hurling him agalnet the concrete wall and knocking him senseless. When he opened hla eyes again It was to the clanging of tha hell of at ambulance. He waa lying In It, cov ered by a blanket, and It waa thread ing Its way slowly through tha holiday shopping crowds. They took him to the county hospital, where a young surgeon aet Ms arm; then he was washed and laid upon a bed In a ward with a score or two more of maimed and mangled men. Jurgla spent his Christmas In this hospital, and It was the pleasantest Christmas be bad had in America. Every year there were acandala and Investigations In this Institution, the newspapers charging that doctor* were allowed to try fantastic experiments nothing of this—hls only complaint waa that they used to feed him upon tinned meat, which no man who had ever worked In Fncklngtown would feed to hie dog, Jurgls had often wondered Just who ate the canned corned beef and “roaat beer of the etock yards; now he began to understand—that It was what you might call "graft meat," put up to be eold to public officials and contractors, and eaten by soldlere and sailors, prisoners and Inmates of Instltulons, “shanty-men” and gangs of railroad laborers. Jurgls was ready to leave the hos pital at the end of two weeks. This did not mean that his arm waa strong and that he was able to go back to work, but simply that he could get along without further attention, and that hla place was needed for some one worse off than he. That he waa 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 else In the city. As It chanced, he had been hurt on a Monday, and had just paid for hts last week's board and hls room rent, and spent nearly all the balance of hls Saturday's pay. He had leea than 76 cents In hls pockets, and 61.60 due him CHAPTER XXIII. Early in the fall Jurgla set out for Chicago again. All the Joy went out of tramping aa soon as a man could not keep warm In the hay. and, like many thousands of others, he deluded himself with the hope that by coming early be could avoid the rush. lit for the day's work lie had done before he waa hurt. He might possibly have sued the company, and got some dam ages for hls injuries, but he did not know this, and It was not the com- A kImHHc treatment f« | pany*a business to tell him. He went irtntrr. o,tan. Hu. and got hi* pay and hla tools, which ,kfsr. Ctealne. cHunt, he lert In a pawnshop for 60 cents. ?«»><» and Aeunatkn. > Then he went to hls landlady, who had earn another cent for months. The snow meant no chance to him now; he must walk along and see others shov ellng, vigorous and active—and he with bis lift arm Imnn.l t-i bis sl.lt-! II- could not hope to tide himself over by odd Jobs of loading trucks; he could not even sell newspapers or carry I soon have r doors with "hoboes” on "a day like this I So Jurgls went out Into another place and paid another nickel, lie was so hungry’ this lime that he could not re sist the hot beef stew, nn Indulgence which cut short hls stay by a consid erable time. When he was again told to move on he made hls way to a “tough” place In the ’’I.evee" district, where now and then he had gone with a certain rat-eyed Bohemian Working man of hls acquaintance. It was Jur- gfit «ala hope that bare 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 waa 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? You look as If you’d been up 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 - - *a . . . - . ■ .. . maybe that'll brace you up.” And an satchels, because he was now at the they would drink together, and If the m.r-v of „nv Heel Woe* it „„t tromp v|| 8umc|ent f y wretched lOOk- men y --f any rival W-.r-lH i-.iuld n-it paint the terror that came over him as he realized all thla He was like a wounded animal In the forest; he was f-.r.-.-.l t-i .-.inpi-t.- with Ills enemies upon unequal terms. There would be oo conalMratlea. nr him because of hls 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, he would be at a disadvantage, for reasons which hs was to discover in good time. In tile beginning he could not think of anything except getting out of the awful cold. lie went Into one of the saloons hs had been wont to frequent and bought a drink, and then stood by the fire shivering and waiting to be or dered out. According to an unwritten law, the buying a drink /Included the privilege of loafing for Just so long; Ing. 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 tho same city or worked at the same trade, they might alt 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. Alt of thla might aeem diabolical, but the ea loon keeper was In no wisa to blame for It. He was tn the same plight aa the manufacturer who ha* to adulter ate and misrepresent Ms product. If he does not. some 6ne else will; and the saloon keeper, unleaa he le alee an alderman. Is apt to be In debt to the big brewer*, and on the verge of being sold out. (Continued In Monday's Georgian.) OF Becomes Frightened After Bomb Outrage at 1 Madrid. By RICHARD ABERCORN- Bpeclal to the Georgian. London. July 14.—It It an open secret at coart that for the drat time tn hie life Kins Edward le beginning to experience wholesome dread of aaerefilete.- Hlnce the outrage at Madrid, tbs king has shown s marked dislike to driving In a korsed carriage. Whenever It It possible, be neea.one of hls motor cars, and being exempt from the ordinary speed regulations of the road, he travels aa fait is possible. The reason for this nervousness Is the fact that s fortnight ago, the Scotland 'TuT 5 —- Yard detectives obtained posseutoa of that the most daag*n._ lists hive now added Kin* ill* llaf a. t ••timrVaxI mnn ' £ Jhe other names on Roosevelt end King Alfonso, of Spain. The original anonjmoni letter to which the police attach tome Importance Is In pos session of the king, who appeared to peas over the matter Tightly. The letter has been shown almost Jokingly to various msm* bars of the royal hontenold, but at the same time It le known that the detectives are witching well known Anarchists mors closely than they have ever done before. The shameful way poor Irish woman are before a government committee by Factory Inspector Iloea M. Squire. Speaking of'the "track,” or payment-in- kind, system, as worked In the north of Ireland. Mils Squire said: "In Donegal, I found that poor women walk many miles Into towue. where wool le given out to thrm. which they take back to their squalfd eanli *—* ‘ ' Inge or gfo- cept In ten nine and knit Into stock* gai.... .... ml .-nm Inge or gloves, receiving no payment, es- ‘ ■- and groceries, the former be CHTTBBY CHARLEY, CAPITOL LANDMARK Continued from Page Five. ever for a Job, ten years at It ought to demonstrate it. In 1814 Charles Northen, minus much of the rotundity at the belt lino and the whit* In the hair, but with’ the ‘TII-do-lt-for-you- If-it-busts-a-trece" air then upon hls open and pleasant countenance, cams to the senate as assistant to Secretary ’•BIH" Clifton. The late W. H. Ven- able was president of the upper house. Through the Vennblo presidency In 18(4-6 and the term of Robert L. Ber ner, 1896-7, Mr. Northen served ss as sistant to Secretary Clifton. He "made good" In great ahap*. Men who came up to Atlanta as lawmakers began to know and regard with favor thle cherubic-faced young man. Then the senate of 1888-8 was elect ed and W. C. Dodson was named aa the presiding officer. Charley Northen wee elected secretary of the body easily over what was considered strong oppo sition. And there he remains placidly mov ing through the dally routine of the sgallons. He was with Clark Howell In hls two tenures as president, from 1900 to 1004. When this senate wee elected a contest came on for the pres idency of the body that lasted through some days. But Charity Northen had the Job of secretary cinched whoever might be the man. Oppoeitlon Always Melts. Opposition he has nearly always hid, but It has melted away usually before the (election was mad*. Once e rival candidate got five votes. That's as near as any fellow has ever com* to deposing him. And the odds are that he will be st the seme old stand doing business Ing charged against them st Is Id a ponnd when the senate of 1907-8 Is called to (if cents*, the ordinary twice for good tea order by whoever Is selected for the being 40 or 60 cents). NO money passed end the workers caa not get coin." Before she nn earn her pound of tee. the wretched peasant bus to knit some retail at 11.50 to » a pair. "The houeee of the workers,” continued Ml«s Squire, "ere Isolated, one-story cabins, perched os rock, soil or standing In bogs, with mod floors, and generally a cow, and, a calr, but always a pig, with I tsesesm In tha llvln.e run lit " perhapie — , _ , cock* and bene In the living room.. Miss Squire’s picture of the Irish peas ant’s cabin ts only too fimlllsr. since the sad events of I846-IMS, hot tho terrible tyranny of the master stocking-makers Is . fs.h.va a# Inlin.l'i wrongs that la tn s feature of Ireland's wrongs, that Is, to English people. Society with n large and patrician .8 now has a weekly pnlillcatlon of Its own. It le rilled The Throne, ind Is a most ornate The paper bee over thirty editors. .oclety with s es-'— “ — possible to have _ . one editor. The contributors have been nude editors, end the bmrtrendlnge have .been avoided. Among these dlstlngnlshrd journalists are presidency. One of the secrets of hls success— which will bt wantonly divulged here— Is the fact that he surrounds himself with good men as hls aids In the cler ical work of the senate. Captain Charles P. Ilarisell, of Thomaavllle. s assistant secretary; Judge Tyson, cal endar clerk; Guerry Brannon, of Georgetown, chief clerk, end Flynn Hargett, of Columbus, messenger. To ninety-nine man out of a hun dred the Hon. Charles S. Northen Is Just "Charley.” He U the kind of a genial personality that Invites It, and because he Is "Chartsy” to them, he continues ns secretary of the Otorr ^ senate, though the political fortunes of other men rlee only to crumble In dust. lady Victoria Manners. Hasan, countess of Malmesbury; dowager countess of Had ley, dowager countess of Gnttrnham, conn- tern of I.ytton. Indy ArvblboUl Campbell, Viscountess Galway, Lady Montague of Hesulleu, lady Armstrong, lady Helen Forbes. Lady Auguata Fane. Hon. lady Bellingham. lion. Mrs. Anatrnther, Hon. Hybll lotah, tody Palmer. .lady 8aaan York*, tho ranee of Sarawak. lady Broome, ‘rtncees Henry of Pleeo la. Princes* De- Mesaagne. the Marcheae UlConaentlne. and I doseu other persona of lees distinguished titles. The ml far public was considerately WEEK-END RATES Ft ATLANTA VIA SBBNt stands for a shilling. Tho following num beri. however, ere not nvallelde, except ala u Ami lahnatiin. i rented Ms place and had no other for tote in Georgit. 235 Capitol An., ATLANTA, 6A. J lllllle mm turn HI turn in>atuitig iiuuat | keeper, who looked him over and ques tloned him. As he must certainly he helpless for a couple of months, and ! had boarded there only six weeks, she j decided very quickly that It would not be worth the risk to keep him on trust. So Jurgls went out Into the streets, I and WHISKEY HABITS ; n a moat dreadful plight. It was bit- n*if™ k nterly cold, and a heavy snow was fall- 1 ticufart'ient in*. bentln* Into hla face. He had no ■ b m. woolley. m7d! | overcoat, and no place to go, end two I Atlanta, MaToQce 104M. Pryor Street, dollars and sixty-five cents In Ms pock currently reported that even the sob er rtbera will be regarded with n aortal microscope liefore their names will be Anal- permitted to remain on the sntiscrlptlon Its The new pnlillretloa typogrnphl- Hr le n hand some affair, hot with aorh _ staff of editors the letter press Is sor- priafngty disappointing. The secrets of courts and Ihe wonderful stories that Ihe It Is s cartons circumstance that, though -the^nsme of Prlaress Christian was laclnd ed lu the list of editors, her ns me Is miss* lug from the first number. It Is believed Edible menus are the "latest novelty’' for smart dinner parties, where the gnesta may rat thrlr bln of fare as s sweet st the end of the most These sweet-meat wens* ire the loventloa of Ilerr Willy, who Is said to be the greatest sugar Icing expert In the world. They are made of plait marts pin. anal the lettering Is d In the floret sngar Icing. Inclosed In a ct, with the certainty that he could not bo echo. tie box. which Is propped npright by the aide of every guest's plate, the edible m la an ornament, as welt Tallulah Fallg Mt. Airy Llthla Springs Indian Springs Warm Springs Cumberland laland .. . Atlantic Beach Lockout Mountain St. 8lmoni Asheville Lake Toxaway Tryon Saluda Gainesville Toccoa Norcrost Suwanee Tallapoosa * White Sulphur ..... Tickets on tale every Saturday 9°®^ to return following Monday. 22.40 .. •*> .. *•<>» .. .. .. 10.W .. 4.1® .. .. 7.96 .. 8.70 .. «•» .. .. 1* 0 ,. - M . 2X0 . 1^» J. C. BEAM, JRe P ’ K