Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-02-02
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BY CHARLES ]. BELLAMY.
Copvrighted by the Author, and pubnsnea
 by arrangement with him.


 ,.Mfnd men, I don't say but it is quite fair, but mill owners manage their business about the same way. It is all very well to complain, but the first necessity is place to work; if there isn't that, you surely can't have any rights I may as we'll tell you, the mills are heavily insured, and you can't quite have the rare satisfaction of seeing that old man ruined But doubt if he will care to put any more mills under such extra risks Some of your women and ignorant people, who don't see the fun of starving, may think you have done poor nights work"
 The stranger had disappeared, and the faces of the men, clustered about their en- zine, had lost their sullen cast. The young mans black eyes glistened in the new ecstasy of an orators triumph.
 ''One thing I will promise. will do what can in your behalf. I know the lines of most of you have fallen into hard places, and I promise if 1 can see any way to tighten tb" burden of life on your shoulders l will help you"
 The men returned to their work with @ murmur of app oval. Was it too late?
 The brakes started up again. The men ran up the ladders again, with the hose i,l their hands, in the renewed battle with the fire. Philip had moved the crowd. He had chosen instinctively the only method for the crisis, while the flames craCaled and flashed in high carnival But was it not too late: The men were working with new energy: ,ew hopes were in their hearts The mill owners son had promised to help them; he sympathized with their choerless poverty, and who could do more thsn he?
 If the whole line of mills went it would be upon their co1scieuces, and the thought put fresh strength into their weary arms and moro fearless courage into their hearts. But precious time had been lost and the wind had changed so that now the red, greedy tongue of flame Tapped the frowning brick walls of the next mill, and lavished their hot, wanton kisses as if it were love end not hate whose fury would consume theln
 When the moon was setting in the west. that night, MT. Breton found his son al. grimy with smoke, with clothes torn, and drenched in water, out of all semblance to the gentleman of elegant leisure. He stood by the smoldering ruins of Number Two mill.
 ''Aren't you coming home tonight, Philip, my dear boy? How proud Bertha would have been if she could have seen her hero to- night"
 Bertha! What strange influence her words and manner at parting had left upon him; as if, some way, in leaving her just when he did, he had lost her forever. God forbid! He could not shake 1t off; 1t was with him as he waited almost alone in the great mill yard; all the excitement and re- responsibilities of the night had not dispelled it. He looked down moodily into the smok- ing mass of crumbled walls and roof and blackened timbers, and watched for the little forks of flame that started up boldly, now and then, as if it were not yet too late for a new battle, and then seemed abashed at find ing themselves alone in the dark, and sank back.
 "You have saved the mills," said his father, wringing his bruised hand till it hurt him. God bless you, my son. I didn't guess how much there was in you."
 Philip looked up at the scorched walls off on the right, and the long pile of massive structures away to the left, unshaken by the whirlwind of fire. In few hours more they would be alive with rushing belts and wheels, and with the feet of the men and women, telling how strange it was there was place left for work today. Yes, he had saved them ''but at what price!" He spoke half to himself. If he only knew what Bertha had l meant
 "What price? Oh, your promise to do what you could for the men and all that. It was guardedly put, my boy" And his father laughed appreciatively. "Inexorable parent must be considered, though, ha, ha. You will catch your death of cold. Well, if you will stay cOOd night"