Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1888-01-18
CHAPTER ",



The strident voices of 400 looms would
seem to be too much for human nerves, but
the walls of the weave room Number Two of
the Breton mills are hung with soiled plaid
shawls and chip hats, the livery of the fac
tory girl Their restless forms are busy
among the rattling machinery, their swift
cunning fingers moving harmlessly where
mutilation would seem certain. 1t is a mere
matter of habit; one look at most Of the set
pale faces would show there was no brain
force in exercise. Why, the overseer will
tell you those girls are as much machines as
the frames and betting; though they UNI
doubtedly have one advantage for the en-
ployers, the girls are cheaper. The wonder
| full mechanism of those looms, the skillful
system of belts and pulleys and the enor-
nous water wheel cost fortune. Girls can
be bought in the market any day for a crust
| of bread
Is not that figure familiar-the one that
| stands this moment leaning against dingy
white pillar, while the rushing belts and slid
ing frames seem hurrying the faster all about
herf Yes, on the piece of wall between the
two Jail like windows nearest to her hangs
the plaid shawl Philip Breton had for coun-
terpane only last night. Her dress is soiled
and i'll made, and her hair tied up in the
closest and ugliest coil to escape the greedy
machinery, ever reaching out for new vic
tins. But the warm, soft tint of her cheeks
and the moist sheen in her black eyes were
always the same and many young man
would rather look at her this minute than
turn off an extra cut, they call it, of cloth at
twenty cents.
Her days used to be more terrible to her
even than now She had wished every morn
ing that she might die before night, and at
night that God would take her before morn
ing; take her, she cared not where; no place
could be worse, certain. But she was slowly
growing, she thought, into the dead calm
that all the rest had learned and yet how she
hated the great massive mills, irresistible
giants that held her with deathless grasp,
grimly contemptuous of her writings and
foolish struggles, The overseers, too, how
she hated them; their sharp words stung her
like the lash of so many taslmasters, and the
paymaster who doled out to her the few dol
lars, the wages of her blood and life, as if
that could be paid for. She had longed so
many times to throw back his money in the
smiling, patronizing face; but the poor cam
not afford the dearest of all Injuries, pride.
Suddenly the mill bell rang out above the
roar of the wheels, and at its voice the looms
stopped, the breath of their life taken away,
and the belts ceased from their endless race.
Another days work was closed, and the
poor girls hurried on their shawls and hats
as if at last something pleasant awaited
them and went out in chattering groups.
''What is it, Tommiefn A broad Shout
dered young fellow had left the crowd and
followed her shyly up the hill.
"Nothin' much, only may walk home
with your
"Wil that do you any goodl Hurry up
then"
He was an honest faced young fellow, and
little better dressed than most of the group
at waited about the mill yard gate.
What you want to walk round here with
1 can't see. They can't work you very
For cats2mmie, if you want SO much extra
3.her contemptuous laugh she
ut she showed row of small
poor Tommie thought were