The examiner. (Hartford, Conn.) 1881-188?, 1886-07-24
A GLORIOUS EPISTLE.
THE BLOSSOM OF HOPE.
FOUND WITHIN THE SANCTUARY
OF A K. of H.. ASSEMBLY,.
ssAn Knjury TO One rs ahe Concern of ALL"
tAmrlta Lal Roy, to John swinton's Paper.l


Swinton's Paper. Its author, Amrita La
Roy, was Hindoo student, in quest Of
knowledge, and who expected to find in
America the Tree of Liberty in full blossom
and to feast his longing heart on its glori'
Gus fruitage. This charming letter gives
the hopes the disappointments and the utter
dispondency of our noble souled "heathen,
until he finally secured peep at the new
bud of tne blossom of Hope within the
Sanctuary of Knight of Labor Assembly.
We know that every one of our readers
will thank us for this reproduction of the
most brilliant and soul stirring epistle that
it has ever been our lot to meet with.
LIVERPOOL, Eng, April 80, 1885.
Six years ago this day / left my Indian
shores, hoping to find in lands abroad the
stolen happiness L had missed at home.
Young, inexperienced, without guidance, l
roamed in search of the lost truths of hu-
man life through books and men. Now,
within few hours of embarking back for
the East, stop for moment at this CEN
tral mart of the West to send a word of
thanks to America and her workingmen,
for there found the long-lost talisman to
charm dead world back to life.
Those seemed to be dark days when I
first found myself in your country. / stood
in dismay, before what seemed to be the
despair of civilization. Here was a land
brisk with the life of strong race of men.
Nature had surrendered them her powers,
Art had disclosed its treasures, and the
Muses. had smiled on them her best of
smiles A noble religion had been preached
within its shores. Industry had there
shown the omnipotence of man. and science
her divine power of rule, while liberty had
proclaimed long life to both.
But, alas, vanity of vanities saw ma
ture powerless, arts fail, and th9eMuses
made to blush. / saw idleness entnfoned
worth degraded, vice pampered, virtue put
in shade / saw religion in shrowd, cant
in smiles, truth burked, hypocrisy flourish
/ saw industry in tears, science dull, and
liberty at stake. Unholy greed was stalk
ing the land and spreading it's nightmare of
monopoly over the breasts of men. In the
way of the light of heaven stood an array
of faithless clergymen in black, who, with
solemn faces, somehow found enjoyment
The air was spread with untruths by the
time-serving propensity of the scribbling
race. All seems to grovel under the heels
of an aping aristocracy more groveling
still.
was appalled,. MY fairest hopes were
dashed into air. Not there, thought l. the
New World, where noblemen delved and
ladies span, and the man of work was the
gentleman. Not here the manly courage
that would scorn to sell the right to might
for filthy lucre Not here the fine frenzy
of holy sentiment to embrace all mankind
in one glow of eternal love. Not here the
high purpose welded to honest work to
carve out of earth heaven 1t was but
the Old World going to seed, and Ben
Frankhn's countrymen would soon be the
lackeys of foreign lords.
But thankful am that, like the usual
traveller, I did not go about with a paddock
upon my heart and jaundice in my eyes. 1
lived long enough among you to turn
another leaf in my book of experience.
And here / record that while beautiful is
your country, beautiful are your women,
yet beautifuller still there is the tendency
of man.
But hereby hangs a tale. In Europe and
in America had gone in all sorts of places,
and met gil kinds of men. 1 went to col
lege, and left with a conceit in my head.
1 went to church. and found a void in my
heart. / was fioundering in doubt and I
was preparing for despair, when by an ac-
cident of accidents L fell upon a working
man in rags. Lo! the truth stood revealed
/ had walked in the ways of the world SO
long as neither piety nor culture gave
me any clear line of conduct, and harlot-
fashion dazed my inexperienced vision. 1t
was in room hazy with smoke and frag-
rant with tobacco weed, and the speaker
was a Knight of Labor. The men puffed
and bawled; they talked bad grammer, but
they spoke the word of life
For there heard that homely phrase,
born of sorrow, which holds in it the phil
osophy and the ethics of life: An injury to
one is the concern of all" 1t was to me at
once human duty defined, religion in prac-
tice, and philosophy alive.
had diyed deep into books to compre-
hend the "social organism" and the solidar-
ity and continuity of human life; but it was
only when saw the abstruse philosophy
reduced into practice by untutored men in
the struggle for life that suddenly flashed
into my brain, as if by mirror, this last
truth of modern life, not the Unity of God,
but the Oneness of man.
Since then have held in my head the
history of the world in an epitome, for the
talismanic watchword of the Knights of
Labor at once gives the key to the world
oId-problem of bread to all and the king
dom of heaven upon earth, ,-ay, as they
saw "whether God wills it or no."
Let even the dullest ponder. Is it not for
this that Buddha lived and Christ died ! Is
it not for this that fathers have worked
and mothers have prayed2 Is it not for
this that the earth has produced its fruit
and society her blessings Is it not for
this that life has lived and death has left a
record And is it not for this that the
millions have groaned when humanity in
her birth throes between life and death,
has presented truth after truth to her
spouse, the world! Let, then, every man
and woman, of whatever race or cline, in
the name of the past who have worked and
suffered for them and left them where they
were born, claim the right to live, the right
to work, and the holy right to serve their
fellow-beings, as the common heritage and
possession of all
But there are men who will stop you
with many naughty question. Why, il
man was to have the full of his wishes in
this world did he have yearning for an
other9 Why did Buddha talk of nircdnd,
ard Christ of Father in heaven Tc
such would say, Stop not to ask the ques-
ton sphg when you have found the hofo OF
doing the right. For neither science nor
scripture can answer the question achy.
Alas, alas, it is a melancholy tale Life
is q mystery in which the only thing tang1-
BILE is pain, and all heaven-born ideas OF
renovation are but the babes OF sorrow,
nurtured ON tears.
Wonder not, then, that cling TO the
gospel of the workingman as the only sal
walton of the world. For we are all but