The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1898-12-30

pcl8 themT And what is their OHenSe
that they should be looked at; askance
and herded apart, like: tainted cattle
A deeper question, this would be, than
most of z:us are prepared to answer.
Even the facts can hardly be trusted to
answer; for facts are cruel, and they
/ frequently lie, in the larger sense of
truth. Hence it is with extreme re-
luctance that one approaches the story
OF what was done at the Mission on
the night of July IL, during the labor
trouble of 1892. The differences must
speak for themselves; no one would
dare to be responsible for the logic of
these cruel facts, which seem to ac-
cuse generally, yet really accuse only a
few-the blind guides and faithless
shepherds who were condemned in the
communities where they were best
known, and were brought to an made
quate punishment, but were afterward
get free, through technically of the
law. which in effect pronounced them
guiltless. These are not ''laboring
men," but they are clothed and fed by
laboring men, who in turn are betrayed
| by their injurious counsels.
The rank and file of the non-union
prisoners were of the ordinary class of
western miners who pack" their
| blankets from camp to camp, but
among the number were several men Of
better condition, and of more than
| average ability and intelligence, who
had held responsible positions at the
mines; and these, as if unconscious of
unfriendly observation-both aboard
OF the train, where union men, armed
with Winchesters, sat in the same
car with them, and at the Mission, after
the guards had left them and returned
kept apart by themselves, and were
quiet and wary.
Michael Casson, ex-foreman of the
Caltrop, one of the upper-country
mines, had his wife and children with
him on the train. The wife, a comely,
high-spirited woman, with well-sea-
soned nerves, but a soft heart in
trouble, kept motherly watch upon
Faith, coming down in the same car
with her from Wallace. Faith was
known to be Manager Bingham's
daughter. leaving the country under
the special protection and guarantee
OF the union leaders; but the signs
OF recent trouble in her tear-flushed
face aroused Mrs. Casson's SYM
pathies, and that neighborly wom-
an soon discovered that the man
ayers daughter, notwithstanding her
fashionable dress, prosperous connec-
tions, and look of delicate pride, was
very much alone, and very warmly dis
posed toward the ostracized portion of
the laboring community to which Mrs.
Casson and her man" belonged. Hence
sudden and, on Faiths part, rather
hysterical intimacy. The voice of the
kind woman, speaking with the rich,
sympathetic, Irish intonation, touched
the chord that vibrates in sobs or laugh
ter. Sometimes Faiths eyes filled,
sometimes she laughed, at Mrs. Casson's
delicious, hearty talk. The train rum
bled on between the river and the
mountains, laundering over it's bridges,
and the green, fair vista of the Mission
opened. The outbound passengers dis
embarked and gathered in groups, or
scattered till the moment of departure.
At the Mission Mrs. Casson's children
had to be fed. Faith was not enticed
by the sort of meal that the Mission
set forth that day to it's seventy Wis
itors; anything at all, at a good round
price, was right for the scabs; the Mis-
sion did what it could to retain little
of that apostate money in the land of
the faithful. But Nature offered them
her own refreshment - flowers, and
deep. soft grass to lie upon-and shed
the light of her jocund sunshine upon
their recent troubles, and upon the
anxious future before them; and the
habit of making the best of a bad out
look was the habit of them all.
Faith had idly extended her acquaint-
ance to a chatty little lad, one of the
rising hopes of the Mission. who, hav-
ing his time much at his own disposal.
was pleased to bestow it largely upon
her. He was wise child in the hap
piest sort of knowledge-that of the
'footpath way" He took her across
the meadows, where the blue CANVASS
flower was just falling from over
bloom. They crept under the boughs
along the river. and loaded themselves
with wild roses, pale and red. and every
shade of pink between. He told her the
names of the new flowers, as he knew
them, and she likened them to other
flowers at home. She noted the strange
character Of the river. which here at
the Mission is not like a mountain
stream, but cuts into the rich bottom
land, deep and still, like a southern
bayou, and has no beaches, but only
honES which dron oH enddop1x ;o<o