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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
