The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1903-01-10
THE CHILD MURDERERs.
A Story of the Coal Strike.
BY FLORA STEWART EMORY.

BY FLORA STEWART EMORY.
''Well, what are you going to do
about it? You can't whip her, for
she's too old for that" An elderly
man thumped his cane down hard as
he fairly glared at his wife. She did
not reply at first. Finally she said,
timidly:
"Are you sure she is in the wrong?"
"Wrong?" yelled the old man !;
isn't it wrong to be an anarchist p
But, dear father, am not an an
archist," a sweet voice exclaimed
from the next room.
Listening, are your" asked the
old man rather nervously.
A fair haired girl came into the
room, singing to herself. Going up
to her father, she kissed him fondly.
II am a Socialist, dear. That isn't
the same as being an anarchist
At this point the conversation was
interrupted by the entrance of Earl,
the son and brother.
dad thinks I am going to end
badly because 1 want the government
to control the food supplies, instead
of allowing the capitalist to raise the
prices at will, and make the poor suf-
fer that they may grow richer" she
said to him.
Earl Stewart listened until she had
finished, but his father noticed wor-
ried, anxious look in his eyes.
"What is it, my son ?" he asked.
here for few weeks, as the strikers
are determined not to give in, and I
fear there will be bloodshed."
"What, won't the operators con-
cede to them? It's a beastly injus-
tice. They have a right to see the
coal weighed. Bill Jackson said that
was the main thing they were strik-
ing for" The old man again thump-
ed his cane on the floor as he said
this.
Papa, you are like great many
others, you are a Socialist at heart,
and you won't admit it," Margaret
said, calmly. To Earl she continued
mo, we won't move. won't, any
way. My place is here"
eyes, and so is mine p exclaimed
the old man, feelingly.
81 forbid you to shoot p' Earl
Stewart spoke firmly to the man, who
dropped the pistol at the sound of his
voice.
"I've got to KILL" he mumbled.
cts in me; the murder is there,
and those devils put it there
Look here, Tim, you used to be
a good man. Don't set such an ex-
ample to the other miners. It's not
the way to gain your ends and you
know it. !"
Good God, Stewart, we are hun
cry p he blazed forth.
Earl stood motionless.
"Tim," he said, "we're hungry,
too. We gave up our last cent yes
terday to buy medicine for the wo-
men who are sick up yonder."
Forgive me, Stewart, the striker
said.
He had gone only few steps when
crowd of half naked children came
in sight. They were screaming and
yelling, and each one carried knife
of some sort. Tim and Earl tried to
stop them.
1--WE will kill those men," the
ringleader shouted, as he passed.
Then he caught his foot and fell.
The mob of mere children rushed on,
trampling on his bleeding body with
utter heartlessness. 1t was impossi-
BILE to check their speed-two hun
dred children make an army, and
some of them were big boys. Their
staring eyes and sunken cheeks told
their own tale. Down the street they
ran, and Tim picked up the uncon-
scious boy beneach his feet.
"There was murder in his heart,
too," he said softly, as he recognized
his own son. "I hope he is dead.
Earl turned away to hide his emo
ton. They carried the body into
Mr.. Stewart house. Margaret look
ed up, but she was not surprised, for il
was not the first silent body she had
seen lately.
ANY news, Earl?" she asked
quietly.
He only shook his head.
An unusual noise caused them all
! to look out. A band of dirty boy:
and girls was passing. On theil
sides were lined up rows of soldier:
whose plying eyes told what theil
lips dared not speak. The children
were crying, some loud, some low
but the cry "bread" could be plainly
heard above the other sounds.
X X X X X
Earl and Margaret left the miner
with his dead son, and they wen
into their own empty pantry they
pressed each others hands.
Poor little child murderers,
Margaret whispered.
| O
IT DOESN'T take muscular youns
woman to throw fellow overheard.