Evening star., 1896-12-05

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;nsly devote my life to the cause Of the
workingmen."
Marsten spoke with the fire of youthful
enthusiasm. and was somewhat discon-
his mouth and laughed.
why do you laughr
I'm laughing at you. I'm glad to know
there's some one that believes in US, but as
better later on"
Don't you believe in yourself and your
fellow workers.?
mot me. know 'em too WELL BY the
sweat Of thy brow shalt thou earn thy
bread. Thems not the right words, hap
pen. but that's the meaning. 1t has been,
is now. and ever shall be. Amen"
Il don't object to that" Mr.. Braunt,"
cried the young man. rising and pacing the
floor in his excitement Don't think 1t.
But want to see everybody work. What
l object to is earning your bread by the
sweat Of the hired mans brow, as some
one has said. Bless me! look at our num-
bers. We outnumber the loafers ten to
one; yes. hundred to one in every coun-
try In the world. All we need is an unset
fish leader"
The elder man looked at him with quiz
zeal smile on his stern lips.
Look at the number of the sands on the
seaside. Will any leader make a rope out
of them? Numbers are nothing my lad
Take care Of yourself Marsten, and never
mind the workers; that's the rule of the
world. You may pull yourself up. but you
can't lift them with you. They've broken
the hearts, aye. and the heads, too of
many a one that tried to better them.
You think you have only the masters and
capital to fight. The masters won't hurt
you; it's the men you're fighting for that
will down You. Wait till your head Is an
inch above the crowd. then you'll catch it
from the sticks of every rotten one of
II en that thinks he's got as much right as
you have to be in command. 1t isn't money
that helps the masters: it's because they'v
a ma uyh fhoyy
see him, and to stand by him when they We
got him. Don't be deluded by numbers.
What's the good of them? One determined
man who doesn't need to bother about his
backing-who knows his principals will
back him through thick and thin-will beat
any mob. Why can a small company of
soldiers put down a riot? It's because
they're commanded by one man. When he
Shoot they shoot. That's the whole Sc
cret Of it."
Braunt resumed his pipe and smoked
vigorously to get back to his usual state of
taciturnity. Marsten had never heard him
talk so long before and he stood pondering
what had been said. Braunt was the first
to speak.
PLAY the Dead March, JESSIE" he said,
gruffiy
The girl hesitated a moment. evidently
loath to begin when Marsten was in the
room. A slight hectic color mounted to
her creek, but obedience was strong in ner;
ner rather was not man to be disobeyed.
She drew up her chair and began Chopin s
Funeral March, playing 1t very badly, but
still recognizably.
Peace seemed to come over Braunt as
he listered to the dirge. He sat back in
the chair, his eyes on the ceiling, smoking
steadily Marsten sat down. meditating on
what Braunt had said. He was not old
emo, gh to have his opinions fixed, and
10 be impervious to argument. so Braunt' 5
remarks troubled him. He hoped they were
not true. hut feared they might be. The
mourrful cadence of the music. which
seen ed to soothe the soul of the elder man.
wound itself among the younger's thoughts
and dragged them toward despair: the in
difference Of the men in front OF the pub
lie house flashed across his memory and
depressed him. He wished Jessie would
stop playing.
'Ah." said Braunt, with a deep sigh,
when she did stop; that's the grandest
piece Of music ever made 1t runs In my
head all day. The throb Of the machinery
at the works seems to be tuned to it. It's
In the roar Of the streets. Come, my lad,
I'll go with you because you want me to,
not that 1t will do any good. I'll speak Il
you like, not that they'll care much for
what ] say-not hearken, very like. But
come along, my lad
Go be continued next Saturday,