Dewaceatic i aca,
Bellefonte, Pa., November 20. 1908.
HAA
BEND THE KNEE
When the world seems dark and dreary,
And you know not whence to flee,
With your burdens faint and weary,
Bend, bend the koee.
You wiil find the clouds are drifting
When to Christ you make your plea,
Would you see the veil uplifting?
Then bend the knee,
Would you find a friend in sorrow,
Such as Christ alone can be,
Hoping on some bright tomorrow?
Try bended knee,
Of all goodness Christ is essence,
And His love is full and free,
You may see His gracious presence
On bended knee.
In Thy hands, our loving Master,
If our lives entrusted be,
We need fear no real disaster,
Safe, safe in Thee,
—[The Rev. A. Messler Quick, in Christian
Intelligencer.
THANKSGIVING AT JAMES STREET
CHURCH,
Nothing very exciting in the way of mail
ever came to the on James Street.
There were the lesters from people who
wanted marriage records looked up, and
those requesting contributions for obaris-
able institutions, and occasionally a long
epistle from staid Aunt Jane, giving the
mews concerning the various branches of
the family.
So when bis wife brought in the mail on
this particular morning the Rev. Mr. Dine-
more looked over the supersoriptions wish
no great show of interest. ‘‘Nothing for
you, my dear.’’ be remarked.
“‘Do open this one first, Henry,” Mrs.
Dinsmore answered, pioking up one of the
letters from the table. ‘‘Did you ever see
such queer writing? It looks like a child’s.”’
Mr. Dinsmore ran his penknife th
the end of the envelope and drew out
folded sheet. He held up to bis wife's aston-
ished gaze a hundred dollar bill.
‘‘Listen to this, Alice I" be exclaimed.
*‘What do you make of is?
‘‘ ‘For the James Street Methodist Epis-
oopal Church debt.
** ‘Your Unknown Friend.’
They looked at each other with guestion-
ing eyes. Who could have sent is ?
Now, the James Street Church debt was
not a very big debt, only ten thousand dol-
lars. It bad never caused anyone the
slightest uneasiness before the advent of
the present pastor. Daring the six months
that he bad been stationed in Pilgrim he
bad not failed to stir the minds of his par-
ishioners oi the subjects but to no effectual
end. Mr. Dinemore’s predecessor, Mr.
Geer, bad not worried them about it; and
although the church was devoted to Mr.
Dinsmore, does nos everyone know that
the opinion of she previous pastor has at
least its full weighs ?
“‘He mast know how muoh the debs bas
heen on your mind,’’ said Mrs. Dinsmore,
i “Is would look as though he
might be a mem your congregation.
O, can’t you think, Henry ?”
Mr. Dinsmore smiled quizzically. *‘I
will leave it to you and the other women
to find out at the Ladies’ Aid Society this
afternoon who sent the money. We men
cannot shingle out into she fog in the hap-
py way that you womeo seem to. The
great fact that interests me now is that my
way toward the payment of the church
debt is open at lass. I shall call the official
board together Monday evening.”
At ball past three that afternoon the
parlor of the James Street Church present-
ed an animated appearance. Three quilt-
ing frames stood in the middle of the room,
and around two of them groups of ladies
were already at work tufsing silkaline
pufls. Upon the third Mrs. Dinsmore and
some of the yoang girls were carefully
stretohiog the lining to a patchwork quils
that Grandwa Phillips bad pieced for an
industrial home.
** "Pears to we you haven's just cnt that
end straight, Mrs. Dinsmore,’ commented
old Mrs. Blackburn, bringing her specta-
cles up from the end of her nose and look-
ing critically through them.
The minister's preety wife flashed pain.
fully. That end surely did look crooked.
What il Sister Blackburn shoald suspicion
the dreadful fact that she had never puta
quilt on a frame before?
‘‘Yon should have drawn a thread, Mrs.
Dinsmore,” interposed Jodge Bentley's
daughter Irene, darting a mischievous look
at the minister's wife out of her merry
brown eyes.
Irene was a tall, handsome girl, full of
decision and spirit. She appeared to have
taken Mrs. Dinsmore under ber special
protection. It was Irene who bad taken
the class of boys of fourteen and sixteen,
the worss class of boys in the school, which
Mr. Harold, the Sanday school superin-
tendent, bad designed for Mrs. Dinsmore.
Irene bad seen the panio-stricken expres-
. sion in Mrs. Dinemore’s face as she looked
at the jerioniug row of lads, and she bad
immediately declared to Mr. Harold that
she was tired of girls and could not be con-
tented unless she taught that class of boys,
thus passing into Mrs. Dinsmore’s hands
her own class of meek little lassies.
Irene it was who kept ears to bear
of sick parishioners. 0 that the minister’s
wife could get aronad to see them before
the good old sisters inquired whether she
had been to call at the various places. Irene
it was who bad saved Mrs. Dinsmore’s | Street
reputation as a housekeeper when the fore-
ee ir ry ah a he
parsonage. Her eyes v
that the yeliow silk shade on the piano
lamp bad not been dusted, and with her
1 ace-trimmed bandkerchiel she had flecked
the last particle of dust off just before Mrs.
Blackburn entered the room.
Hearing Irene’s remark. Mrs. Brass came
from the next tahle. When she had satis-
fied herself as to the causeshs d
down fora moment into a chair behind
Iino. Ma. Bea go vewocomer in the
arch, og three marriageable
daaghters, was busy taking an inventory
of the eligible men. Irene stroggled to re-
a smile as Mrs. Brass gave a prelim.
nary cough. At the last Ladies’ Aid
her inquiries had been abous young Mr.
Lansing, and Irene wondered who ber mind
Was on now.
“I sn that you are well acquainted
with Mr. Willard Peok, Miss Bentley.”
Irene frowned slightly. Willard was a
favorite of hers, and she disliked to think
of the puvesatione that were about to be-
fall bim. ‘Yes, indeed, Mrs. Brass ;I
have known Mr. Peck ever since I was a
baby.”
‘‘He seems % be a remarkably fine young
man.” Mrs, Brass's soft voice dwelt ques.
tioningly on the ‘‘seems to be ;'’ but, ap-
parently, Irene did not notice it. ‘‘He
bas several brothers and sisters, I under-
stand.”
“0, yes. There is a big fawily of them.”
the embodiment of life and enthusiasm.
He carried his hearers so completely with
him that the old church resounded with
such a swell of praise when the congrega-
tion joined iu the closing hymn of thanks.
giving as bad never been heard in is be-
“He has been in business a namber of | fore.
years, has he not?"
“0, yes, six or eight ; bot Willard bas
been unfortuvate. He had a dishouest
partoer at first, and is failed bim ; and so
poor Willard has been paying for that old
dead horse ever since.”’
“Ah! How unfortunate! What is bis
father’s business ?’
‘“‘His father? O, they take boarders.”
“Ab i”
The tone of the *‘Ah”’ was highly satis-
factory to Irene. She had neglected to state
that Willard had recently fallen heir toa
number of hundred thouveand dollars, and
that the ‘‘hoarders’” were a couple of
wealthy aunts, each with a soft epot in her | 88
heart for Willard.
And vow for two hours there was a
cheerful hum of voices around the tables.
Mre. Brass was still making the rounds,and
from time to time there was walted to Irene
a familiar sentence : ‘‘He seems to he a fine
young wan. What is his father’s busi.
ness ?’’ but uever in connection with Wil-
lard’s name.
Precisely at six o'clock the door into the
hall opened, and a loog line of brothers
and sous and husbands filed in, beaded hy
Mr. Dinsmore and Winthrop Oloots, a ris-
ing young lawyer and Irene’s fiance. Not
a man among them had ever heen kuown
to venture alone into that august assembly
of females. Everyone remained standing
around the long tables in the dining room,
till Mr. Dinsmore craved the grace. His
yer wa« unusually fervent, and Irene
Poked at him wonderingly, as, instead of
takiog his seat with the otbere, he looked
over his flock with a beaming face.
“You are all aware that it bas been my
cherished hope during the few monthe thas
I have been with you atsome time in the
near future we might pay our church debs.
Today avn inspiration, a substantial one, has
given me. This morning I received a
one hundred dollar bill which an accom.
panying letter etated was for the church
debs. The letter was signed ‘Your Un-
known rienn. ” sb bare oobions
A ourious spectator might bave n a
subtle obange in the atmosphere in the
boar of sociability thas followed the supper,
an unbending, a cordiality shat bad never
Instead of pronouncing the benediction,
Mr. Dinsmore asked she andience to be
seated for a moment, as he bad a communi-
eation to read to them which be had found
in the pulpit Psalter that morning. Every-
one thought of she ‘‘Unknown Friend.”
Eyes traveled back and forth from the
placid countenance of Brother Fern to the
taciiuro one of Brother Smart, thence to
steal a glance at Mrs. Pearsall, as Mr. Dine-
more commenced reading the lester ; but
before he had finished the third sentence
they stopped gazing as Mrs. Pearsall. No
woman would bave compiled shat letter :
“Unto the church which is in James
reet, grace be unto you, and peace.
‘““Now I beseech yon, brethren,that there
be no divisions among you ; but that ye be
perfectly joined together in the same mind
and in the same heart and judgment. For
is hath been declared untp me of you, my
brethren, that there are contentions among
you. Now I beseech you, brethren, mark
them whioh cause divisions, and avoid
them; for they by fair speeches deceive the
heart of the simple.
“I say to every man that is among vou
nos to think of himself more highly shat
he oughs to think.
“Herein I give you my advice as to the
payment of the church debs; for shis is ex-
pedient for you, who have begun before,
not only &o do, hus also to he forward.
Now, therefore, perform the doing of it ;
that as there was a readiness of will, so
there may be a performance also out of shan
which ye have.
“Finally, brethren, farewell.”
At the conclusion of his reading Mr.
Dinsmore etated that accompanying the
letter were six one hundred dollar bills to
be used toward the payment of the debt.
“80,” be continued, ‘‘we now lack only
fitteen hundred dollars.”
Judge Bentley rose impulsively in his
pew. ‘“‘Why cannot we make an end of
the whole matter here this forenoon, breth-
ren ?*’ be said, as he whip out
and his fountain pen. ‘I will give the last
five hundred.”
“You may put me down for a handred,”’
called out Willard Peck.
“One hondred for me,” eaid Winthrop
been a marked obaracteristio of the James | Olcott.
Strees people; and on the follow San-
day morning it was even more conspionous.
Though courteous toa mild degree, the
James Street ushers usually bastled stran-
gers, as well as members of the congrega-
tion, into pews, with scant ceremony. Now
a committee of four stood in the vestibule
to grees such with a pleasant ‘‘Good morn-
ing’’ and a warm grip of the hand. Paalters
and Hymoals, open at the right place, were
cordially extended to persons in pews in
front and pews in the rear, and even car-
elk witha bow and a smile across the
e.
Three or four of the churob members
also might have been a bit amazed at the
way upon which their fellow members com-
menced to look u them. There were
old Mr. Fern and Mr. Smart, both of whom
were known to possess a spug little for
tune, though the James Street Church kad
never been the better for it. For years
they had slipped quietly and appurently
unnoticed into their corners at oburch and
prayer meeting. No one forgot to call on
them to pray iu prayer or olass meeting
now, and, apparently, the smallest churoh
question ld not be properly decided
without their opinion.
Then there was Mra. Pearsall. In pro-
portion to her somawhat restricted income,
she had always been a generons giver. Al-
ready the sisters were beginning to canvass
ber for the next president of the Ladies’
Aid Society.
Irene’s father was by some looked upon
as the possible donor, though not many in-
clined to this view. It required a stretch
ol i pation to conceive of the matter.
of-faot judge as signing himself ‘Your Un-
known Friend.”
The church soon became divided into
parties of those who thoughs the “Unknown
Friend’ so be Mr. Fern, Mr. Smart, or
Mrs. Pearsall, and those who looked out.
side the parish. Meanwhile, Mr. Dins.
more was going the rounds with a sab-
scription paper headed with the one han-
3 dollars from the ‘‘Unknown Friend.”
Strangely enongh, it did not coeur to Mr.
Dinsmore or any member of his parish that
the gift might be repeated. Though he
and his wile never opened the mail with-
out thinking of thas memorable uring,
they did not look for shat childish, pecul-
iar writing. Had they looked for it they
would have heen disappointed ; for never
again did they hehold is.
On the eighth Wednesday, when Mr.
Dinsmore was feeling a bit discouraged
over his slow progress with the subsorip-
tion liet, an envelope addressed in a firm,
dashing style was found on his study table.
It contained three one hundred dollar bills
and the familiar words, ‘‘For the James
Street Church debs.” Some one must have
thrown it in through the open window.
Here indeed was a problem for the church
to le with ! the donor of the
firds hundred dollars, flastered possibly by
some delicate attention on the part of a
brother or sister, heen encouraged to re-
his good work, or had some other un-
nown been moved to emulate his example?
The excitement caused by this second
gift bad bardly had time tosaubside when
one evening, on patting on his overcoat in
the minister's room at the church, Mr.
Dinsmore found in the breast pocket a large
square envelope marked in a old-
fashioned style, ‘‘For the James Street
Church debs.”’ It contained five one hun-
dred dollar bills.
A Jun You, now Slened Fog Jaman
. By t effort on part
Mr. Dinsmore, who bad the hearty oco-
operation of the Ladies’ Aid Society, seven
thousand dollars was raised in ition to
the nine hundred received as a gifs.
Thanksgiving drew near. The aunounce-
mens of Irene Beutley’s forthcoming mar-
riage to Winthrop Oloots, which was to oo- | that father
our on the day after Thanksgiving, caused
a pleasant ripple of excitement.
Mrs. Dinsmore cast a fond look at Irene
as in her modest, noassumiing manner she
walked ap the aisle to her father’s pew on
Thavksgiving morning. Her modest air
Wis She sors fousaricable vy Sova of bet
magnificent . In a confiden
moment Wicenop once confided tc Mrs,
Dinsmore that he had fallen in love with
Irene Bently the first time he bad seen her
walk up she aisle.
On Winthrop Mrs. Dinsmore gazed some-
what anxiously. A noble-hearted fellow,
he was yet inclined to be ske I. De-
voted to his mother, he bad always been
her escors to church, even before Irene had
been an attraction.
To this day the James Street °
speak of Mr. Dinsmore's sermon on
morning as the high-water mark in his pul.
pit discourses. Ordinarily quiet in his
| style of delivery, this morning he appeared
“Mrs. Oloott, three hundred,’ came from
the other side of the house, Thus quick
were the responses till all bat fifty dollare
was raised.
Mrs. Dinsmore whispered something to
Mr. Black bars, Noe is front of har,
e ng to eet. ‘‘Our pastor's wife
De apuing to etate that she bas in her hand
fifty dollars which she has received from
an unknown friend for the debt.”
‘‘How did the money come to you ?"’ in-
quired Irene, as she and Mrs. Dinsmore
walked down the churoh steps together.
“It was in my Pealter at the psalm that
was marked for the day on the board,”
Mrs. Dinsmore replied.
“Any light on the donor yet ?"’ asked
Judge tley, who, with Winthrop Olcott,
Wt Debit anytoing 1
‘‘Not a bit. anything I am more puz-
zied than ever,’”’ answered Mrs. Dinsmore,
turning her head so steadfastly into
the j 's kind hazel eyes. That morn-
ing, for the first time, a suspicion of him
eo nshor nod getting discon
. my pars, am Tr.
aged,” said Judge Bentley, smiling down
upon her. “I will tell you what we wil?
do, Mrs. Dinsmore. If I find ous after you
are dead,I will lay a wreath on your grave;
and if you find out after I am dead, you
must do the same for me.”
‘Is is a compact,” Mre. Dinsmore re-
plied, lightly. “Winshrop and Irene shall
be witnesses.’
Neither Mre. Dinsmore nor anyone who
overheard Judge Bentley's little joke gave
a second th t to it. Strong and active,
more often taken for Irene’s brother than
father, the news of his death, which oo-
curred oo the next Sunday evening, came
as a shook to the community. Always be-
loved by the parish of James Street,he now
became their idol.
Perbaps not strangely the sad event had
uite a hearing on the supposed identity of
the “Unknown Friend.” The party of
ten or a dozen who had believed him to be
the judge in a few weeks was inoreased to
ily or sixty. The supporters of Mr. Fern
aod Mr. Smart then began to fall away.
In the fourth year strangers were not in-
frequently informed as a fact that Judge
Bentley had given two thousand dollars to-
ward the church debt.
At the time of Judge Bentley's death no
one in James Strees Church would bave
predioted that Winthroo Olcott would be
the man who in coming years would most
completely fill the judge's place. Yet such
tarned ont to be the case.
Thavksgiving was again drawing near.
Irene, sisting in front of the open fire with
Winthrop’s Bible in her band, was study-
ing the Sunday school lesson. Looking
down a page for a reference, her eye fell on
a marked : “Now I beseech yon,
brethren, * * * that there be no divisions
among you.” Io an instant Irene was
back in the chuich on that memorable
Thanksgiving morning. She heard ber
father’s voioe as be rose in his pew. Her
eyes filled with tears.
She locked again at the . For
the am time Wi sack ber wn sane Soa}
on who never forgot any
rt Tn
with a question on her lips; bata t
ed the words. Irene lifted the Bible
pages. It was as
ly tarned the
gy E passage that had
Sapeted, very
been contained in the letter from the un-
koown friend was marked. She smiled
involuntarily. How like Winthrop’s open
nature to have been so cunning in
to the letter in some respects, and in this
other to bave left tracks that a ohild might
aig pat iE a
eps was as she .
“Do you know, Winthrop,” she exclaim-
ed, “I bave never for an
sent that money to she
aap lak gw lh Tawipapes
nthrop own and
looked at her calmly. ‘Is begine to look
now as h that mystery would never
be unraveled.”
al Setenaiged on a hid move. "Win.
Oloott, did you send money?’
Taken thus unawares, Winthrop hung bis
bead like a school boy in some piece of
m :
“Why in the world, afser all these years,
should you suspect me, my dear?’ he
stammered.
“There! You need not say another word,
I knew that you did is.”
Wiutbiop fan that he was fairly caught.
“I am real to own up. A part of
my secre has pretty for me to
keep. You will remember that it was
with you?"
“Never.”
t believed | 36%
“I do not suppose that is ever ocearred
te you to inguire how she knew that the
aoney was to be used toward the church
debe.”
*‘No, indeed. Of course, you put that in
the letter.”
“Now, my dear little woman, I jost
dido’s. The envelope was addressed to
Mm. Heory Dinsmore, and the paper in
which the bill was folded hore simply the
words, ‘From an unknown Friend.” The
mouey was intended as a personal gifs to
her, a Thanksgiving gifs. I was so dom-
founded when Mi. Blackburn announced
thas it was for the debs that I came near
giving myself away. That was something
I bad not counted on. Hado't I heard
women talk enough to know what that
fitty dollars would mean to bes? And
badn’s I beard you and mother tell bow
shabby ber bats and jackets were?
“I saw the whole thing in a second.
There was just one little douhs in ber mind
#8 to whetter the muney might not pos-
sibiy be intended for ber to give toward
the debt;and as loog as that doubs was
there, not one cent would she touch.
“I never admired and respected anyone
in my life as I did that woman at that
moment; and somehow it seemed to knock
the bottom righs out of my skepticiem. I
dare say you and others have shooght it
was your father's death that made a dif-
ferens man of we, bus is was not. It was
the honesty of that woman's mind.
“It neems ridionlous to me now that I
should have given any of the money in that
way. Perl the inside of it was, I was
determined that Mr. Dinsmore should have
his debt paid, and at the same time I wae
ashamed to show how iuterested I was in the
matter. Then I thought what a fine joke
it wonld be to set everyhedy’s tougue to
waging. It certainly was very boyish in
me.”
Winthiop stopped suddenly. Irene was
on her feet going toward she door.
‘‘Where are you going?'’ he called after
ber.
“0, I am goingon an errand. I will
be back in a moment.”
‘‘You are not going to the parsonage?’
The sonod of Irene’s Somes along the
hall was the only Yespouse. inthrop re-
sued his reading with a resigned expree-
sion on his face.
*“These women!'’ he murmured, rather
energetically. ‘‘Every-one in town will
know is before Sunday. I can see Mrs.
Blackburn peeping at me tbroogh her
In the five minutes later Irene
was earnestly rn her story.
“I wonder if it would he wrong for me
to hope that your dear father knows,’ said
Mrs. Dinsmore, with a smile, that had a
tinge of sadness in is. ‘‘He was as curious
as any of us women. O, and do you re-
member his joke with me as we came down
the steps that morning?’
Irene and Mrs. Dinemore looked into
eaoh other's eyes. Both read the unspok-
en thought,
‘I will come for you with the carriage
at ten o’clook on Thanksgiving morning,”
said Irene. ‘‘Will that be too early?’
“0, no,” answered Mrs. Dinsmore. “I
hope that you do nos think me childish,
but my bears is set on is.”’
It bad heen a late fall. The grass was
still wonderfully green in the beautifal
cemetery. Irene picked a dandelion and
caressed it Joviogly as she and Mrs. Dins.
more walked slowly up the hill to the
Bentley lot. Mrs. Dinsmore bore a large
package which she would not allow Irene
to carry.
' it never seems dreary to me
bere,” said Irene, as she belped Mrs. Dins-
more undo Be package. “Father was such
a joyous spirit I cannot feel sorrowful even
by his grave.”
Mrs. Dinsmore lifted the wreath and
b laid it tenderly on the green covering that
natare had made. ‘Yes, that is the reason
I ohose these cheerful pink roses.’”’ —By
Flora Longfellow Turknett, in The Chris.
tian Advocate.
There was a young man who started in
life with the proposition that he would
believe nothing he could not prove for him.
nell or see with his own eyes. For that
man history was a sealed book, foreign lands
did not exist, astronomy was a fable, chem-
istry a fairy tale. For the foundation of
all Kuowl life ‘a the acceptance of faots
which have been proven by other people
and belief in the records of history and ge-
ography written by chroniclers and travel.
ers long dead. That yonng man would be
doomed to perish by his own ignorance, be-
cause be would take no other man’s word
and srust vo other man’s experience. There
is a class of people who might be blood re.
latione of that young man who see time
and again the statements of cures following
the use of Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical Dis-
covery. Yet they go on hing, spitting
blood, and losing strength with every hour.
The fact thas Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical
Discovery does care coughs, brovchitis,
weak luoge, hemorrhages and conditions
which tend to consumption, rests upon ev-
idence as sound as that which proves the
salient facts of history, geography, or as-
tronomy. It is not more certain that
Washington was at Valley Forge, that
London was the capital of land, or
that she sun rises in the East, that
“Golden Medical Discovery’’ cures pulmo-
vary diseases. You can’s afford to doubt
this evidence or rejecs it, if you are siok.
Yet a more Excellent Way.
A certain prophet grew very sired of be-
ing not withont hovor save in his own
country, for his own country was precisely
where the big money was so be made.
So he rerolved to try something besides
straight prophecy.
“I'm Fo as big a scoundrel as anybody
ic the System !"’ he oried in a loud voice.
‘Nobody but a fool will take my word !
When I tell a man to buy Acidulated Cop-
per, I’ve got an axe to grind—I'm trying
to work him.”
instant. Before san-
The effect was
down the buying publio bad absorbed all
the prophet’s Acidulated Copper at his own
re.
His First Case.
A young advocate was in his
first case. Before he bad prooceded ten
minates, with fall forensic foroe, the Judge
bad decided the case in his favor and
told him so. te this the young man
would not stop. nally the judge leaned
foward and, in $e fem of tones, said :
‘Mr. ——, not ng your argn-
- to decide
thie case in yoar favor I"
Airing the Room,
Every rozm that is occupied be thorough.
ly eg each day. It should be remem.
bered that a large volume of air rushing
through the house will remove the impurs
air more ‘effectually in 10 minutes than an
hour’s giring with windows partly opened
and doors closed.
—~tabeeribe for the WATCHMAN.
THANKSGIVING DAY.
BY THE REV. W, BR. FITCH,
To Thee, our gracious Lord and King,
Our offerings of praise we bring
On this Thanksgiving D=y.
With blessings Thou hast crowned the year,
And filled the land with goodly cheer,
Driving our cares away.
Thou gavest us, and not in vain,
The early and the latter rain,
The sunshine and the dew :
Encouraged thus, the earth did yield
The richest products of the field,
Proving Thy promise true.
With garners filled to overflow,
No fear of want need any know,
Nor dread of winter's cold,
For though the air be damp avd chill,
Even the winds are tempered stil!
To those within his told.
O Lord of hosts, from out whose hands
Blessings flow down like golden sands
To giadden all the year,
Accept the praise our hearts would bring,
And hear the songs Thy children sing:
Thankegiving Day is here.
Lowville, N, Y.
History of Socialism in England.
England bas heen the classic country of
development. Her greatest revolutions
bave been carried on without the storms
aod struggles which bave devastated Eau-
rope ; often even without any physical furce
at all. She learns ber lessons and adapte
them to her needs before they are wrung
from her by outraged subjects.
Her economic growth has been so clear
and vatoral thas rhe bas always afforded
bappy illustrations to the teacher and
statesman,
The 15th century was the golden age of
Labor, not only in England but on the con-
tinent. The laborer was better housed,
better clothed and better fed than at any
time before or since. This was o to
the devastation wrought hy the Black
Death, which left fewer laborers than could
fill the demand. Production and exchange
were iudividoalistio and were carried on
for use and not for profis. Land was used
for rairing food avd not for capital yield-
ing rent. The relation between master
and man was personal. Paunperism was
anknown.
In the 16th centary an impulse was giv-
en to human enterprise and human imagin-
ation such as bad not before been known,
yes the great mass of the working Eoglish-
men was obanged from a flourishing and
wholesume state to one of miserable desti-
tation. Ib the reign of Queen Elizabeth
the whole aspect of the world bad been en-
larged to the philosopher, the mariner and
the merchans ; Eogland was laying the
foundation of her foreign commerce with
Russia, Turkey and India; thus giving
rise to large class of merchants in the
towns, who, with the land owners, on
long leases, in the country were producing
for profit. On the other band, the people
who fiom the Anglo-Saxon times had had
the use of she fields for their livelihood and
the care of the church when they were in
need, were now being driven into the high-
ways by the seizure of the common lands
for sheep enclosures and of the church
laude by Henry VIII for gifts to his favor-
ites. Pauperiem bad grown to such an ex-
tent that is was legalized in 1601 by the
famous poor law of Elizabeth's reign. The
capitalist farmer in the country and the
manufacturer and merchant in the towns
were becoming absolute masters. The per-
eonal relation between master and man
i being superceded by the money rela.
on
The century and a ball which followed
the Tudors witnessed the coming into pow-
er of the middle class. The English
ceased to belong to the Eoglich people.
Real estate hecame concentrated into fewer
bands. The general industry of the coun-
try was exceedingly flourishing. The old
limited production could not suffice for the
extended markets of India, China and the
Colonies. In 1660 the great land holders
threw off their feudal obligations to the
crown. The Revolution of 1688 crippled
the royal prerogative further, did
away with the payment of members of the
Hounee of Commons. In 1702 the abolition of
the annual parliaments, the establishment
of a standing army, and the extension of
the npational debt, placed overwhelming
power in the bands of the landed aristoora-
oy and the commercial classes. The ex-
tension of commerce and manufacture
Juongbt with ita wider system of credit.
The k of England was established in
1694. The fetichbism of money bad reach-
ed a high pitch. Undeoreelling with a view
to gain had become the rule. Exchange
for profit and interest on money lent had
become the principle of English life.
From tbe beginniog of the 17¢h century
the history of the trade of the world is lis-
tle more thao a history of the development
of the Euglish-speaking les. Great
Brittain, juss before the Am Revolu-
tion, was more powerful, relatively to oth-
er nations, than it was at the death of Eliz.
abeth. The machinery of commerce bad
been rapidly perfected. The power of man
over nature bad been greatly extended.
The complete separation of the people from
the soil had been accomplished and the
means of production, capital and credit had
been concentrated in the bands of the mid-
dle class. .
Efforts were being made by the capital-
ists to relieve themselves from state re-
striotions which interfered with ‘‘freedom
of contract.” Men who had made their
fortunes in trade were buying up the land-
ed properties and systematically clearing
estates and enclosing the commons. Land.
ed estates were now heing rated at sheir
capitalized value, estimated hy the amount
of interest represented by their rental.
Land owners dominated parliament. Man-
ufacturers, bankers and merchants exercis-
ed a pressure on legislature similar to that
which the working classes today exert on
the House of Commons. Everything led
relentlessly up to the formation of a sys-
tem, on ‘“‘free contract,” ‘‘each for
himsell,”” as the top, the individual cap-
italiss, holding the whole process of pro-
duction and exchange in his bands ; as the
bottom, the destitute proleteriate in both
country and city, entirely at the disposal
of the possessing olass.
Throughout this period, before the in-
vention of machinery, although the condi-
tion of the agricultural laborer was most
wretched, in manufacture, the masters
were never fully able to dominate their
men. The invention of machinery occur-
red io the last third of the 18th century.
It changed the old industry into the new
manufacturing world and is known as the
Industrial Revolution.
In 1769 the spioning-frame was invent.
ed by Arkwright and his patent for the
first steam-engine was taken out by Wass.
Io 1770 came Hargreaves spisniug jenny,
in 1778 the mule-jenny by Crompton, in
1785 the power loom, by Cartwright and in
1792 the cotton-gin, hy Whitney. These
inventions took the tools from the hands of
the oraftsman and workman and fitted
them into machines, the steam engine fur-
|
; nisbing the motive power. Ind now
| passed into the factory system. ry
The change was so rapid and unforseen
that the results to the workers were v
terrible. They were left, lb
to com in the market, against
each other, for the privilege of selling their
labor-power $0 wasters who bad no econom-
ic interest in their wellfare further than to
get as much work oat of them as possible,
for the least amount of Owing to
the expense of machinery small manu-
facturers were forced out into the wage
earning class, which was already far soo
large. Pauperism, misery and bardship
increased to an unheard of extents. The
accounts of the factory system in England,
at the beginning of the 19th century, would
be incredible if they were not borne ous
from so many different sources.
i When it was discovered that a child
could do more at ove of the new machines
than a dozen men had dove before, the
mavolacturers got them from the work-
houses. They paid these children no wag-
es and did pos even properly clothe and
house them. They were often worked six-
teen hours by day and by night, and if nee-
essary, kept to their work by the lash.
They slept, in tarn, in the same filthy
beds, fed on the coarsest food and subjeot-
ed to conditions which brought disease,
misery and vice to them in she early years
of childhood.
Sach was the condition of the mesnulac-
toring world, when Robert Owen, in 1800,
pu the cotton mills of New Lanark,
n Scotland, with the idea of transforming
them into a village, modeled after his phil-
anthropioc ideals and based on his experi.
ence a8 a successful cotton merchant in
Manchester
New Lanark wae considered at the time,
as ‘‘the best regulated factory in the
world,’’ yet Owen gives in his an
pby the following account of it: There
were about five hundred children employ-
ed, who ‘‘were received as early as six years
old, the pauper authorities declining to
send them at any later age.” They work-
ed from six in the morning until seven in
the evening. They hated their slavery
and many absconded. Many were dwarf-
ed and stunted in stature, and when they
were through their apprenticeship, at thir-
teen or fifteen years of age, they common!
went off to ri or Edinburgh, with
no guardiavs, ignorans and ready, ‘‘admir-
ably sunited’’ to swell the great mass of
vice and misery in the towns. The people
in New Leas k vg oration without con-
trol in ts of vice, idleness, poverty
debt and destitation. 'Thieving > gen-
eral.
Robert Owen is often called the father of
Socialism, for it wae bis followers who
were fitet called Socialists. Owen was ear-
y imbued with the conviction thas man is
e oreatore of surrounding circumstances;
that his character is not made by bim bus
for him, and sherefor the only way to raise
she character and habits of men is to im-
prove the conditions under which they
live. He also held that ‘‘under the sys-
tem of free competition the inorease of pro-
ductivity of labor invariably leads to the
deterioration of she condition of the work-
ing olass.” Again he declared that ‘‘the
quantity of average human labor contained
ina commodity determines the value of
such commodity, hence if all commodities
be valued and exobaoged by the producer
according to that standard, the capitalist
will have uo room io industry nor com-
merce, or the worker will retain she
full product of his labor.”
At New Lanark Owen abolished the
eepers, who had been selling the
workers inferior articles at bigh prices, and
he established shops where commodities
retailed at cost. He reduced the workmen's
hoaure of labor and increased their pay. He
received no pauper children Tay the
children of his employees he tounded mod-
el infant schools aud provided means of ed-
ucation for all the inbahitante. In 1906,
when a orisis in the cotton industry ocour-
red, which stopped all the cotton mills in
England and shrew thousands of workers
out of employment, Owen retained all his
men aod, although for four months no
work was done, he paid them their fall
wages,
Owen of course met with many obstacles
hut within a generation New Lanark had
heen changed from a miserable village with
a degenerate population, to a model settle-
ment of healthy, bappy, industrious men
and women—the admiration of thousands
of visitors. Owen's fame bad spread over
all the civilized countries. He was at one
time the most pepular man in Earope.
In the later years of his life Owen at-
tempted to found settlements in America.
These did not prove successful. He died
in 1858, at the age of eighty-seven years.
Marres Hillguit says of him, ‘few lives
bad been so eventful and useful as his. Hie
failures were many, but his achievements
were more ; he was the first to introduce
the infant school system ; he was the fath-
er of factory legislation, one of the first ad-
vocates of cooperative association, and he
anticipated many of the theories and fea-
tures of the modern socialist movement.
Owen must be classed with the Utopeans,
for although many of his ideas were those
of socialism, bis application was thatof a
reformer rather than an educator along the
scientifio lines of development. Wonder-
ol his uk was, it fell bo pieces at his
eath, but the great cooperative movement
of Eogland is his lasting monument, This
base realized his ideal of profit sharing.
y ae 1890 the Ovoperative Union indlujed
oo tive associations, ting
twelve million of capital. EE
of co-operation, it has been said, ‘‘is the
complete solution of the administrative
difficulties of an Industrial Democracy.’
The chartist movement, which came to
an nnsnccessful end in 1849 brought before
Eoglishmen the terrible suffering of the
workiog classes, and gave rise to the
christian Socialist movement, led by Mau-
rice Kingsley and others. This lasted un-
til 1852 when almost all socialistic agita-
tion ceased in England for about twenty
years.
In 1881—2 Henry George visited Eng-
land, where his views on land value ——
a greater im on thaw in his own coun-
try. An agitation on land nationalization
was ® and a number of socialist
movements arose.
The academio sccialists are ted
in England by the Fabian Society, which
was founded in 1884. Awoug its members
have been many men of ability and promi-
nence, of whom the best known in Ameri-
ca are Bernard Shaw and H. G. Wells.
The Social Democratic Federation was
founded in 1883, by William Morris and
BH 5 Hyndman. It is scientific and po-
tical.
The establishment of the London County
Council in 1886—7 and the ng of the
Loa: | Gontrnuicat 44s is aud Jon
ve given oppor ty for man re-
torms along socialistic lines.
In 1893 the Ind ent Labor Party
founded by Keir ie hound iteelf to the
support of Socialism,
e Trade Unions in England have bet.
tered the conditions of the workers and are
Continued on page three,
et