The Labor enquirer., 1888-03-10
They Ars 4 XII BuliIt ls "a !!yls Az n |SIa \ III
and, Wreichedn l.4S''s
~ bs-sssi,f,e ~ taDiH SG@ila1trDfdiDr9 IA :
is1ls sissI9 the Poor ao',f a1 tssisi
WHEN THE POOR ARB HAPPY
They Are Pitchers " of 4, HappAlasss''.-77 ~
Lessons IN Humanity s1.' NJ yy,,.ir from ~
the Bees. @ola 4ai .


falsetto c. K. Waters, editor of
the San Francisco HoW Gasex<.
"Thou fool, and blind," these fol
lies of the rich" drive fair women
to the brothel, strong men to un-
timely graves and countless num-
bers Of children to beggary and
theft. "The expenditures Of the
rich makes the honest living Of.
the poor" he adds. Just So! That
the rich may riot in expenditure
the poor must drudge and grovel,
pimp and pander for them in order
to get an honestly living"
MAKES the honest living of the
poor" Indeeda Then the poor
could by no means honest get a
living but for this expenditure of
the rich. All the means Of living,
then, belong to the rich and only
SO far as they may be induced to-
crafty their lust for "follies." can
the poor get a living; they have
no "honest' title to living only
as the pander to the follies of the
rich. Nature intended the poor
to do nothing but subserve the
follies of the rich. If the poor
man gets living without render
ing a life-service in the prepara-
ton of follies for the rich he is
dishonest and should be hanged
or sent to prison for life, there to-
augment the riches of some con-
tractor who lusts for follies. 3
Money spent on monuments
and mausoleums isn't buried un-
der them" No, pimp, it isn't.
But human lives are buried under
them. The sweat and blood of
human beings lie there buried
crying up to heaven forvengeance.
A mausoleum built for million
aire New Yorker costs half
million of dollars. Less than
$4,000 represents the life of the
average man. A simple sum
shows us what lies buried there
under that stupendous "folly."
Forty human lives to crafty one
single folly! Did you ever read
of a savage chief doing work.
When | was a boy and lived
with a farmer on the windy side
of the green mountains in Ver-
mont. the winters were so long
that he often had to give back to 4.
his bees some of the sweets of
which they had been robbed in
the season of flowers. One blus-
tering March day we were looking
over the hives, when we heard a
peculiar sound coming from one
of them. The farmer know;n0
what it meant, started for the
house on run. | staid there to
watch the wonder. The poor
bees all came out of the hive,
each with his wings raised little
and feebly trembling. As fast as
they came out they dropped dead!
In less than five minutes-before
the farmer returned-every bee
was dead. We opened the hive
and found nought save empty
comb and dead bees. He told
me that bees would always divide
the last drop of honey, and that
when starvation came all died
together.
Later in the day we we're at the
barn and we saw the hens going
to roost. A pole about FIVE feet
from the floor was crowded quite
full; but one old hen wanted to
get up there, so she just flew up
and knocked two others off, set
ting herself down in their place
quite satisfied with her exploita-
tion. There, Gene" said the
farmer, "you can see that hens
know more than bees. That old
hen, being SO strong and wirey,
is worth m more to me. than both
those weak and foolish ones she
knocked off. If half of those fool
bees had diven out the other half
and taken possession of all the
honey in the hive, I'd have a
swarm of bees in the spring"
His sentiment has a moral so
long that ! have not reached the
end of it in an these twenty-five
, years. EUGENE HoUGH.