The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1879-11-13

feet. .............
The duties of his Office absorbed only
drop in the ocean of his activity. Hith-
er and thither he wandered, among 9th
ers of his kind, and those who, though
not Of his kind, were still allied to the
branch of labor he represented. He was
an apostle of progress and preached the
nobility of the future. .1 80 efs.u
During the years intervening between
1857 and 1873 he had led a restless and
unsettled life, now trying one thing, now
another; succeeded in picking up a few
shillings a week, and giving all his spare
time TO reading in the line of his favorite
study. All the sincerity of his nature
had been wrapped up in the circle of his
reading. No natural outlet presented
itself to the enthusiasm of his nature.
Like an internal fire of earth, he was al
ways wandering about in search of some
vent for his pent-up activity, and never
finding any more capaciOus crater than
fierce shout of approval at democratic
sentiments uttered in speeches by popu-
lar leaders, or his own furious and some
what ineoheent attacks upon the system
then governing the regulations of labor.
He did not exactly side with the repub-
lican element of the country. He did
not care in the least what the form of
government, so long as the hard-working
honest man got his rights. He was anti
employer and not anti-king; he had the
most complete belief in his own theory,
the most sincere conviction that he was
right and all opposed to him not only
wrong, but wickedly and stubbornly
wrong-wrong to the ruin of the individ-
ual, the country, the vital principle of
the Christian creed.
Once invested with influence and pow
er, as secretary to the Independent Met
ropolitan Engine Drivers Association,
he found Unnecessary to curb the violence
of his feelings for fear of causing mis-
chief to others, and out of belief that
his words would largely and perhaps in
juriously affect the acts and fortunes of
those around him, since to his words
would be fixed semi-oficial value, and
and he would seem to speak with the
authority of the Society. ~ .-
Early in October, 1877, Michael Crane
became gradually buster and buster day
by day, until his home saw little or
nothing of him from early morning till
late at night. He lived in one of the
houses in that long road on the west side
of the London, Chatham and Dover
Railway, between Herne Hill and Cold
harbor lane.
His absence from home at this time
was particularly trying to his wife. for,
although still childless, there was at last,
to the great joy of himself and his wife,
Helen, the prospect Of change in this
state of things.
Mrs. Crane was very far from strong,
and those around her felt most anxious
about her. Her married sister had prom
ised to come little later on, but up to
the early part of October the household
of the CRANES consisted of Crane, his
wife, and young servant girl not more
than seventeen years of age, named EN-
lily.
1t was very hard upon Mrs. Crane to
sit up, often until after midnight, for
him; nothing could persuade her to 20
to bed before he had shut up the house
for the night To sit up for him had
been a habit of twenty years, and she
could not put it away now, although it
sorely taxed her strength. What added
to the difficulties of her position, and
gave her anxiety of mind to increase her
distress of body, was that for the first
time in all their married life he had
placed p limit to his condolences
When he came back late he made vague
replies. When he went out early he
made vague excuses. Of nights he said
merely he "could not get back earlier"
or "business kept him." Of mornings he
wanted to be off early" he chad day
full of work" before him.
Once when he come home later than
usual, she, being weak and full of dis
quietude on account Of him, reproached
him with growing weary of an ailing
wife. w. A"
He went to her and sat down beside
her and took her hand and stroked it
softly. He pushed back the thin black
hair from the faded, weak face, and
taking the face softly between his hands,
kissed it, saying very gently but very
firmly:
"To-night I was at the London Gas
Stokers' Society, and they kept me very
late, for the thing is of Importance, and
| am doing most Of the work"
"What thing? What is Of import
ancew
"It is a secret I must not tell even
you. | am arranging it all with them
with committees and secretaries. We are
all bound to keep the matter private even
from our wives"
''Then it must be thing Of no good
no good for the wives, any way"
eyes, it will be good for all working
men and their wives and families and
fortunes, and," he rose and drew himself
up to the full height of his stunted fig
ure, 'it was l first thought of it; /, / tell
you, /, Michael Crane, your husband,
am organizing it. Do you hear that,
Helen?'
"The what?" she asked quickly, trying
to take him off his guard.
"The--," he paused in time, and
looked at her half anpriIv half oach