The Atlanta constitution. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19??, 1894-07-16

pear on the tracks with shouts of derision,
copied from their elders. A final rush along
the line from the soldiers and policemen
put them to flight. The bugle sounds. There
is a feeble shout of bravado from beneath
the ragged brown cap on the roof 1t drops
out of sight. And the train pulls out.
Here and there men are even teaching
their children the fiendish work of firing
cars, themselves drawing the guards atten-
ton while the boys swarm on the tracks
to do their bidding And when the blackness
of night gives it's shadowy protection the
forms that creep about the yards and apply
the burning brands are not those of men
alone, but Of women and children, too-ac-
tive eager, wild and vengeful.
A woman's voice Is raised in awful mo-
ments with no quality of mercy In it. 1t
was woman who wildly screamed Lynch
him!' when a deputy marshal shot into a
furious crowd trying to overpower him. 1t
was a woman that urged the man who
leaped to the engine of the milk train.
pulled the throttle wide, and sent the engine
dashing into the overturned freight 1t
was at woman's instigation that the cars
at Burnside were fired.
The babies must sleep when they can and
as they can on the restless maternal should
ers. The hearths in the homes are cold, for
the mothers are away and only the red
light of anarchy is there.
Women of the Strike, Not In 1t.
But not all of Womanhood found drifting
in these lawess mobs is of the sort that
sinks to it's level. Women are there, in sober
garments and with serious faces. With
them are their husbands, quiet and thought
full Both have been caught in the Whirl-
pool and behold in CONSERVATION the wreck
and ruin wrought before them. Brought to
the scene by the tie of common interest
that cruelty links their fate with that of
turn
pain to seek their homes under the shadow
of a laWlessneSS not their own.
Over the fields of waving grass and
clover, over the little garden plots and
rows of stately holyhocks, and over the
homes about the town where the deserted
shops are, a great quiet reigns, like
the full golden days of autumn when the
harvest is reaped and the summers work is
done but here it is different season, ii
is but the quiet of 1.-The winter of our dis
content" Here are women in sorrow and
in need; but, with q care for their homes
they strive to make a scanty portion OF
food do for as many hungry mouths as
their family may number. They bear no
burning brands of fire; they are not teach
ing little ones, by precepts and examples
the deadly lessons of evil that will blight
the good in each young life.
There are women in the strike, but not
of it. In it, by the sufferings they bear
by the obstacle that this monster has placed
between them and duty and loved ones
Wives and mothers are kept from the sick
beds of their loved ones.
And now little woman is In Jail for
shooting the man who assaulted her hus-
band on his way to work for their needy
family The assailant was the more power
full. The plucky little woman fired and
then, of course, promptly tainted. She re-
covered to find the aggressor dead, he1
husband in the hospital, and herself in jail
A sad page in the history Of these days
is the story of the women and children OF
the great strike.