The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1914-08-01

was the disconcerning certainty that |
some men in his own city did not |
consider him a benefactor. Thank |
heaven he had endowed the soup
kitchen that day. At least they would
be grateful when they learned of that. |
And so, like a certain caliph of Bag
dad, Bradshaw sat in the midst of his
subjects and heard the hard, cold truth
about himself.
"And did you see what he done to-
day." asked a lank youth with lack
lustre eye.
'He gave a bunch of money, big
enough to fill barrel, to build a free
soup kitchen"
Bradshaw's heart leaped. They
had heard of it, then.
Yes" said the small man, "and
figured it out that what he gave would
have paid us our right wages for the
whole time of the strike. Good heav-
ems, and I'll bet he calls that charity"
why" gasped the startled Brad
shaw, don't your
mot by a long shot! There can't
be charity till there's justice first.
Pay us our Twin wages, and then give
the rest away. But justice has got to
come way ahead of charity. If there'd
a been justice, there'd' been no strike.
We tried everything rather than that
Does the fool think we like to be out
of work? We had to strike
Somehow that fitted rather badly
with Bradshaw's sentiments on the in
gratitude of the workingman, and the
biting of the hand that fed them; and
try as he would he couldn't find a
satisfactory answer.
NO." went on the small man, 81
don't altogether blame Bradshaw;
cause I guess he don't know any bet
ter. What does he know of factory
conditions, when he never got farther
than the Office in his life. He don't
know blessed thing about the way
we have to live, about how we have
| to skimp and slave when sickness
comes, all because he don't pay what's
just. He never saw our kids get hol-
low eyed, nor our wives get sick work
| ing to make ends meet. He never had
| to bluff the bill collector, and stave
off the instalment man. He knows a
heap sight more about the conditions
of the Hottentot,-h had to learn
about them at college.
mo, I don't blame him altogether,
cause l think he believes he's dom
the charitable thing givin' his money
away. But if l had Mr. Bradshaw
here, I'd say to him like this"
He was shaking his finger under
Bradshaw's nose, and Bradshaw, in
disguise took the lecture that might
never have been given to Bradshaw
known and recognized.
"Mr Bradshaw, I'd say, you've got
the wrong idea of charity. Charity
isn't takin' money from your EN-
ployes an given it to Soup Kitchens
If employees was paid what is right
and fair, they wouldn't have no use
for them kitchens. Pay us so we won't
need charity and free soup. AnG
what's more, don't take the word Of
other people about us. Come doWI
and learn how we live. Take an in
terest in us as human things, and SEE
how different we look. We aim
machines just to make you rich; we're
men, and it's justice we want, no
charity. We'd rather have you show
you felt for us, than have you give
us enough free soup to fill the Pana
ma. You can give all the checks il
the world, and they won't do whool
of good if you don't give 'em where
they're needed. That's what I'd tel
him"
Bradshaw stood tense, gripped b.
the rude eloquence of the speaker
The hard, pitiless indictment of thu
only brand of charity he knew rant
so true that in some indescribable wa!
the class tradition of years, the ideas
that had been ingrained by training
and environment seemed blasted for
ever. Almost hazily he passed hi
hand over his head.
Men," he said, and his voice hat
| caught something of the rough, hoars'
tone of the crowd about him, 'somt
|
ture, and others because they neveI
learned what is right Maybe this
Bradshaw is the latter Sort Maybe
| he thought he was doing the square
thing and living as charitable mar
should i've And maybe II he eoulC
have heard you talk tonight, the
strike hight have ended
A cold gust of wind swept suddenl!
| through the saloon Bradshaw did no
move; but the others whose mind.
were not seething, turned and stared
} at the flurred secretary who stood
blinking and anxious In the doorway.
Thrice his eyes passed unrecogniz
: ing over the ragged figure of the one
time immaculate Bradshaw; then al
, most with one startled bound he wal
at his employers side,
my God, Mr.. Bradshaw" he cried
his eyes staring at the filthy rags anC
J the wet dishevelled head, 'let me ge
t you out of this, quick! The machine
is at the door"
But the small wiry man who hat
spoken was at his side, too, and a
J the name, his eyes turned from tn,
! secretary and his head bent fordward
close to the face of Bradshaw. Brad
: shaW's eyes, slowly raised from tn,
/ ground, looked full into the striker
! so close to his own, and as the.
IL -,