Evening star., 1923-07-08

clerks, shopgirls and business men
had to walk to their work from sub
urbs or distant quarters. They made
I a joke of 1t, and laughed and sang
on their way. as though it was the
greatest jest in the world. But it
became beyond. jest after the first
day or two. especially at night, when
Paris was plunged into abysmal dark
ness because the electricians had
joined the railway men and all other
branches of their labor.
The restaurants and cafes along
the great boulevards were dimly
lighted by candles stuck into wine
and beer bottles, and bands of stu
dents from the Latin quarter paraded
with paper lanterns, singing the
funeral march and other doleful
ditties, not without a sense of ro
nance and adventure in that city of
darkness. The apaches, who love
not the light came out of their lairs,
beyond Clichy. and fell upon wan
derers in the gloom, robbing them of
their watches and ready money, and
clubbing them if they put up any
resistance.
On the whole there was very little
violence. for. in spite of their ex-
citability. Partisan crowds are good
natured and law-abiding. But there
was one section which gave trouble.
1t was the union of terrassiers or
day laborers. They knocked off work
and strolled down toward the center
OF Paris in strong bodies, looking
dangerous and picturesque in their
great loose breeches tucked into
their boots, short Jackets, and fiat
bonnets pulled over the right eye.
Most of them carried knives or cheap
pistols, and they had ancient, tradi-
tional grudges against the agents de
police.
Those simple and admirable men
were ably polite to them. and
generally contrived to keep at a safe
distance when they appeared in
force. But the mounted police of the
garde republicaine tried to herd them
back from the shopping centers of the
city which they threatened to loot
and came into immediate conflict with
them.
A hot affair took place round
scaffolding which had been put up
martre. The tAR assiers, driven back
by the mounted men who used the
fiat of their swords made a strong
hold of this place, and loosed off
their pistols or flung brickbats at
the enemy" infiicting several cas-
ualties Orders were given to clear
out this hornets nest and the garde
republicaine charged right up to the
scaffolding and hauled out the ruff
fans. who were escorted as prisoners
through hooting mobs. 1t was all
very exciting, and Paris was begin
ming TO lose it's temper.
X X X X
IAURES had called a great meeting
y of cheminots-the railway work
ers-in the Sale de Manege. or riding
school, down the Rue st. Denis. In
the interests Of the Daily Chronicle
l decided to attend it. 1t was in a
low quarter of the city. and vast
crowds of factory workers and
! young hooligans surged up and down
the street, jeering at the police. and
asking for trouble. Far away. above
their heads, / could see the steel
helmets with their long black plumes
: of the garde republicaine. -
A narrow passage led to the Sale
de Manege, where Jaures had begun
his meeting with an assembly of 1000
railway workers, packed tight, as L
| could see when the door was opened
an inch to give them air. 1t was
guarded by a group of strikers who
told me in rough language to clear
off, when 1 asked for admission. One
of them however. caught my remark
that I belonged to the Daily Chroni-
| Gle. 1t impressed him favorably. Il
| used to read 1t when ! was a hair
| dresser in Soho," he told me. He
opened the door enough for me to
step inside.
Presently 1 was sorry he did. The
atmosphere was hellish in it's heat
and stencil, arising from the wet
sawdust Of the riding school and the
greasy clothes of this great crowd
| of men, 'densely massed. Jaures was
on the tribune, speaking with a
powerful, sonorous voice. I forget
his words, but remember his appeal
! to the men to reveal the nobility of
! labor by their loyalty and their dis
1 rlDlIue. He MdS ScOfnfuI Ol the