The labor world. [volume] (Duluth, Minn.) 1896-current, 1901-09-07
/. THE DIslNHERlTE:.DI)I.,

father. his mother, he sees each year
the finest crops from the fields he and
his father have plowed. narrowed and
sewed.-the fields that his mother and
sister have moved and reaped, binding
the corn into sheavesSwhiehI he himself
has helped to stack--he sees only that
his father carries the best OF these
crops, not to his own house, but to the
squire's barn beyond the manor gardens
AS they pass the manor house with
the creaking cart he and his father
have piled up, the boy sees on the YER
anda a richly dressed lady seated at q
table spread with a silver kettle, fine
china, cakes and sweets; on the other
side Of the carriage drive he sees the
squire's two sons in shining shoes and
embroidered shirts playing ball on the
smooth lawn. y
The ball is knocked over the cart.
"Pick 1t UP, boy" cries one Of the
young gentlemen.
"Pick 1t up. Johnny" shouts the
father to his son, taking off his cap
and walking by the side Of the cart
holding the reins.
what does it mean?" thinks the boy.
II am tired with work, while they are
playing; yet must fetch the ball for
Them
But he fetches the ball, and the young
gentleman takes it from the course,
sunburnt peasant boys hand with fine,
white fingers and returns to the game
without noticing him.
The boys father has gone on with the
cart. The boy rune along the road to
catch them, kicking UP the dust with
his clumsy, wornout boots, and together
they reach the barn crowded with carts
and sheaves. The bustling overseer,
his canvass jacket wet with sweat at
the back, and stick in his hand,
greets the boys father with an oath for
driving up to the wrong place. The
father apologies, turns back YEARLY,
Juggling at the reins of the exhausted
horse, and stops at the further side.
The boy approaches his father and
asks: Father, why do we bring our
corn to him? Haven't we grown it,"
Because the land Is theirs" answer
er the father, angrily.
WHO gave them the land them" j..
go and ask the overseer there. He
will explain it to you. Do you see his
stick?"
"But what will they do with this
corn?"
Thrash it and grind it and then
sell it,
And what win they do with the
money!"
''They will buy those cakes with it
that you saw on the table when we
passed.
The boy becomes quiet and thought
full. But he has little time for thought.
The men shout to his father to bring
his his cart nearer. He pulls the horse
up to the stacks, climbs to the top of
his load, unties the rope, and YEARLY
hands the sheayes :, up one by one,
straining his hernia with each effort;
while the boy holds the old mare which
he has driven for the last two years,
brushing away the flies as his father
tells him, and wondering, for he cam
not understand, why the land does not
belong to those who work IT, but to
those young gentlemen who play about
in fancy shirts, and drink tea and eat
cakes.
The boy thinks about this continually
when waking, when going to sleep,
when attending the horese, but finds no
answer. Everyone says it is as it
should be-and lives accordingly.
So he grows UP. He marries. Child
rem are born to him, and they ask the
same question, and also wonder; and he
answers them as his father answered
him.
And they too. living in poverty and
subsection for idle strangers.
So he lives, and 80. lives those around
him.
Wherever he goes it is the same: and
accordingly to the stories Of the pass
ing pilgrims, it is the same everywhere.
Everywhere laborers overwork them
selves for idle, rich landlords. Suffer
from rupture, asthma, consumption;
drink in despair, and die before their
time. Women overstrain themselves,
cooking, washing, mending, tending the
cattle; wither and grow prematurely old
from overpowering and incessant labor.
And everywhere those for whom they
work indulge in horses and carriages
and pet dogs, Conservatives and games,
from one year to another; each day
from morning till evening, dressing as
if for a holiday, playing, eating and
drinking, as not one of those who work
for them could do, even on a holiday.
Leo Tolstoi.
The demand for nine-hour day is
reasonable and just It's establishment