minji
CHAPTER L
During all October and half of No
vember no work was done in the Black
Eagle mine, except by the pumps drain
ing the sump. The "coal pool"—a com
bination of anthracite mine owners
formed to check overproduction and
keep up the price of coal—had arbitra
rily ordered a "shut down." Such stop
page of labor at one or more of the
numerous collieries in the anthracite
fields was common, but the length of
time prescribed for it in this case was
unusual and not without a purpose. A
general reduction of miners' wages was
in contemplation, and the Black Eagle
had been selected as the point at which
the first blow should be struck for its
inauguration. In their best times the
300 men employed there, with their
families, lived from "hand to mouth,"
and it was only reasonable to expect
that the exhaustion of their scanty re
sources by a prolonged "shut down"
would leave them so close to starvation
that they would be glad to get work at
any rate. Then the new scale, thus es
tablished at one point, would be made
general as rapidly as circumstances
would permit.
The Black Eagle miners, however,
displayed an unexpected obstinacy in
resistance to the pretty scheme. They
actually refused to go to work under the
new scale, and a "strike" was declared.
That signified nothing to the "coal pool,"
which was helped by it in keeping down
production, but was a terrible misfor
tune for the 300 and their wretched fam
ilies. Cold and hunger were in all their
comfortless homes; bitterness and al
most despair in their hearts. Neverthe
less in dogged endurance they struggled
through the latter half of November and
three weeks of December, obtaining
fHom workers in other mines sufficient
aid to barely maintain life.
Christmas eve came, and still there
was upon the surface no indication of a
change in the situation, but a prescient
impression began to be generally felt
that a crisis was rapidly approaching.
The small and repellently ugly frame
houses of the miners were scattered in
an irregular double row along the rug
ged road on the bleak hillside above the
colliery. In one of them this Christmas
eve, in the darkness, were to be heard
two voices—those of a woman and of a
child.
\ "Please, gran'ina, do light tandle,"
pleaded the little one beseechingly.
"Please do. It so dark. Ally hate
dark."
"Try and get used to the dark, dear.
Ye'll have to get used to everything ye
hate most when ye're older," replied the
woman.
"Ally wants see pitty picture; please
light tandle, gran'ina."
"Ohl darlin, it's the last one we've got,
and supposin you'd bo took sick in the
night, what would we do theu for a
light?"
"Ally won't be sick. Please light tan
dle."
"Well, well, dear; it's a little thing to
deny a child, the Lord knows. Give it
here off the table."
The woman groped about on the floor
for a twig from a bunch laid by the
stove to dry for kindling, poked it
among the few coals still glowing in the
stove, and when it blazed lighted with
it the candle handed to her by the child.
By the feeble light it could bo seen that
she was sitting upon a low seat —a bit
of board laid across the top of an empty
+ powder keg—in front of the stove. She
was gaunt and pale, her hair was
streaked with gray, and her thin calico
dress was patched on the breast and
arms. The child—a little girl with
curly golden hair—knelt beside her
knees, and thrusting a fragment of paper
in her hands said eagerly:
"JSee, gran'ina; pitty picture; tell Ally
'bout it."
"It's Santa Claus."
"Who Santy Taus, gran'ina?"
'WHO SANTY TAUS, GRAN'MA?"
'He's a fine old gentleman who brings
Christinas gifts to them he has a likin
for; mostly to children."
'Oh! Will he bring Ally anyfln?"
'lndeed he won't. I'll go bail for that.
Far enough he'll keep himself from the
Black Eagle colliery."
"1 dess I'm too little. He hasn't heard
\ 'bout me yet."
"It'd make no differ if he had. He
isn't makin acquaintances of our sort.
Make up your mind to that."
"Will he never bring Ally anything?"
•Maybe, when you're old and tired
-out, and heart sore! and learn to pray
for it, he may bring ye—a coffin."
"1 hate Santy Taus."
i • 'Ye needn't child. He's like all the
I Test. It's the way of the world. The
M
richer and happier folks are, the better
he likes them, and he's never tired doin
for them that don't need his help. But
he scorns the likes of uz."
The tears gathered in little Alice's
eyes as she sadly regarded the picture of
cruel, unsympathetic Santa Claus. She
but vaguely comprehended the bitter
ness of the old woman's feeling, yet the
spirit of it touched her and made life
seem drearier than ever before.
"Where did you get the picture?"
"Found it in road." And she threw
it away. "Ally tired, gran'ma. Want
go by by."
"Go along, dear, and may the saints
give you sweet sleep and fine dreams.
Sure they're the best things ye'll ever
know."
The child disappeared in a dark door
way to the right after kissing her grand
mother goodnight. The woman sat still,
with her elbows on her kneos, her chin
in her hands and her eyes glowering at
the little grate, where the fire had ceased
to show.
"The kindest thing he could bring to
her this night would be the coffin. God
forgive me for saying it," sho muttered
through her teeth.
The outer door was suddenly thrown
open, and a man with a heavy burden in
a sack on his shoulder staggered in. He
dropped his load beside the stove with a
"chuck" that shook the frail tenement,
and blowing in his hollowed hands to
warm them with his breath exclaimed:
"Gripes! But it's mortal cold. The
fingers is nearly froze off of me crab
blin under the snow."
"Put yez feet up on the stove. They
must be soakin," suggested the woman,
rising and hastening to make up the
tire with coal she took from the sack.
"That they are. I might a9 well be
wearin fishin nets on my feet as them
shoes. But what's the good of growlin?
Sure they're no worse than your own.
my poor Eily."
"Ah! It's the bitter, black Christmas
this is for uz."
"1 met Fogarty," remarked the man
after a little pause.
"The watchman?"
"Yes."
"I'd 'a' thought you'd show more marks
of it, and you wake as you are wid the
hunger. Are you hurted?"
"We didn't fight."
"No?"
"I'll tell ye how it was. He came on
me unbeknownst, while 1 had my head
down piokin among the culm, an the
first thing 1 knew he was standin beside
me. 'Andy Corrigan,' says he, 'don't
you know it's agin ordhers for the strik
ers to be let pick coal from the culm
pile?'"
"Bad luck to them that gev the or
dhers," interjected the woman fervently.
"Amen! But,' says I, 'it's froze to
death the childher will be, to say nothin
of ourselves if we don't be let.'
" 'Wid that,' says he, 'l've nothin to
do. Ordhers is ordhers. and them's
ordhers.'"
The woman, with a quick clutch at
her back hair, let it fall in a loose, strag
gling mass on her bony shoulders, and
raising her hands above her head in an
attitude of imprecation exclaimed:
"May the curse of the needy and the j
hopeless fall upon"
"Ho wid on, woman! Ho wid on wid
your cursin! Bide a bit till you get the
rights of your message to the divil. 11*8
mighty free with your curses you are."
"Sure it's all we have left to give."
"Maybe not. Hear me out. 'Now,'
says he, T'ui on my rounds, and I won't
be back this way for two hours, and 1
don't want to find you hero when I come
again.'
" 'God knows I hope you won't, for I'm
nigh froze already, and the sack is half
full.'
" 4 Wid snow, I suppose,' says he, wid a
grin, and off he wint."
"Sure," exclaimed the woman, with a
grim smile, "it was the same as tellin
ye to take what ye needed!"
"That's how I understood it, and
that's what 1 did."
"The blessin of the 6aints be on Fo
garty. Sure it's a good heart he's got.
even if he is a watchman."
"Gran'ina! It's so told!" called a
little whimpering voice from the next
room. Andy Corrigan quickly took off
his jacket, and his wife carried it in to
the child, whom she could be heard
soothing while wrapping the garment
about her.
"There, dear; lie still now and soon
ye'll be warm as toast. Try and go to
sleep and dream about the angels. This
is Christmas eve, and they'll be all
around ye tonight."
"Is Hugh in yet?" asked Andy when
Eily returned to his side.
"He's not been home since mornin."
"Ah, the poor boy! It's to lave us his
share of the meat he stays out. It's
nearly all gone, isn't it?"
"Yes, but there's enough to last over
Christmas."
CHAPTER 11.
Mr. Corrigan was right. Hugh knew
by experience—as thousands of coal
miners have been compelled to learn
that a scanty breakfast of corumeal
mush daily would keep him alive, and
that was all he proposed to take from
the family's meager supply until the
hard times should be over.
But something elso kept him abroad
just now. Strange, revolutionary ideas
floating about filled him with anxiety.
"The rights of labor have too long
| been ignored. If justice is not peace
j fully accorded by capital, it must be
compelled by force. The rich man
smiles at seeing the wolf of starvation
tearing his poor brother's throat, but
the knife at his own will quickly teach
him he, too-, is but human. A man may
possess a million dollars, but can have
only one life. You cannot coerce the
rich by mere interruption of their accu
mulation of wealth; to bring them to
reason it is necessary to make them fear
death."
Such were the things Hugh heard
being said. And their author was one
of the last men in the community from
whom they might have been expected—
old Emil Wagner—a little weazen faced,
blue eyed German miner, who had been
on the Black Eagle rolls for at least a
dozen years past.
The English speaking miners generally
did not take kindly to his ideas, but
they were accepted as gospel by the
Hungarians and Slavs, whose language
he spoke and to whom he had endeared
himself by many acts of kindness.
The strikers' executive committee,
composed of David Evans, Patsey Gar
rity and Dau Cornell—a Welshman, an
Irishman and an Englishman, as their
names indicated—were not a little anx
ious about what "the foreigners" might
do and the possible consequences in
volved. In the hope of curbing Wag
ner's pernicious influence they summoned
him before a general meeting of the men
on Cliristnuis eve. The scene of the
meeting was an impressive one. Having
no room large enough to hold them,
nearly all the 300 miners assembled in
an open space in the woods, where they
had stationed sentries to keep away
spies. Their only light was that of the
moon, fitfully bright, which accentuated
the paleuess of their rugged, careworn
faces. Emil Wagner, being called upon
to explain himself, said to them:
44 Your contest must fail if not carried
on upon a plane where you and your
antagonists are equal, which is certainly
not that of resources. The destitution
and misery iu your wretched homes
should have convinced you of that by
this time. Where, then, are the starv
ing miner and the arrogant mine owner
equal? Before the king of terrors-
Death. Let your masters know that if
you must starve you will not die alone;
that those dear to you shall not die un
avenged. Make yourselves feared, if
you would be respected. Kill, if you
yourselves wish to live."
"Who would you want killed?" gasped
the English committeeman, quite aghast.
"1 want nobody killed, but it seems to
me the necessities of the situation in
clude using Superintendent Brattle as a
warning."
"Why? What has he ever done to
you?" demanded Garrity.
"To me! Nothing whatever. And
even if he had done me personally every
possible injury, not on my own account
would I wish his life taken. But he is
the representative of the power antag
onizing us, and his fate would warn our
masters that their slaves are in deadly
earnest."
44 What's the matter," shouted a striker,
"with touching capital where it is ten
derest—in its pocket? Burn the breaker!
Flood the mine!"
"And destroy the field of your em
ployment for months to come," respond
ed Wagner promptly; "hurting your
selves worst, since the county would
have to pay all the damages."
The discussion was long and grew hot.
Finally Chairman David Evans "sat
down" on Wagner, as he had all along
intended to do.
"It ill becomes a man, old and intel
ligent as you are, Mr. Wagner," said he,
"to talk in that murderous way, and we
want to hear no more of it."
That was the general sentiment of the
English speaking strikers, but when
Evans' words were translated to the
brutal and obstinate Slavs they scowled
and walked away in grim silence.
Hugh Corrigan, though too young to
take any prominent part, felt A vivid
interest in the proceedings and had a
lively appreciation of the perilous qual
ity in the forces Emil Wagner had set
in motion. He knew that Mr. Brattle's
danger was very real and not to be
charmed away by the Welshman's con
servative rebuke. And if Wagner only
looked upon Mr. Brattle as a superin
tendent it was altogether as a man Hugh
thought of him and conceived it his
duty to warn him. On his own account
solely? Well, hardly.
But Mr. Brattle had a daughter-
Mary—who, in the young man's quite
unbiased and critical estimation, was
beyond all question the sweetest and
prettiest girl in the world. That de
cided opinion had been arrived at by
him in the short space of two hours
upon a memorable afternoon six months
ago, when he acted as guide for Miss
Mary Brattle and three or four other
visitors through the intricate depths of
the Black Eagle mine.
Clearly it was an imperative neces
sity that he should, for her sweet sake,
warn her father against the murderous
Slavs. He did not shut his eyes to the
fact that a striker who made himself in
anywise prominent, even by the doing
of a conspicuously good deed, was pretty
certain to be a marked man and made
to suffer for it when the strike was
ended.
The road he took was a rough and dan
gerous path over the mountain, but en
abled him to reach the superintendent's
house, which lay about half a mile be
yond the breaker, with but little risk of
being seen by any one who might take
exception to his mission.
There were no lights in Mr. Brattle's
windows when Hugh reached there, for
the hour was late, but his first timid tap
with the brass knocker on tho door
brought as an immediate response the
demand in a feminine voice from a win
dow opened behind closed blinds:
41 What is wanted?"
He recognized the sweet voice, and his
own trembled a little as he replied, "Is
Mr. Brattle at home?"
i "No; Mr. Brattle is not at home," and
the speaker slightly opening the slats to
peep out exclaimed, "Oh, it's you, is it,
Mr. Corrigan?"
Delighted astonishment at that recogni
j tion so overwhelmed the young man
I that he could not exactly take in the
' sense of what she told him, and he stam
mered, "I would like tcfsee him."
"He went out with—with a friend
half an hour ago or more. Is it any
thing particular';"
"Oh, Miss Brattle, I can't tell you how
particular it is. I have come to warn
him not to go among the men, for his
life is in danger."
"I did not think I would ever hear my
father threatened by a man of the Black
Eagle colliery."
"For God's sake, don't misunderstand
me. Can't you know the difference be
tween a threat and a warning. There
are men who would knock my head off
for coming here tonight to tell him
this. Trouble makers are telling about
that he is going to bring in more Slavs,
with Pinkerton men to protect them,
and that makes the men hot. And they
have some bad advisers among them."
"I'm sure he would have 110 hand in
such a wicked thing. Ho would resign
sooner."
Before Hugh could reply they were
startled by the dull sound of an explo
sion in the direction of the colliery.
CHAPTER 111,
Mr. Brattle, when he left home, was
accompanied by a stout but active gen
tleman, a little past the prime of life,
whom he addressed as Mr. Andrews.
They strolled as far as the company's
breaker without seeing anybody, and
stood chatting in its shadow for a few
minutes. Then they started up the road
toward the miners' houses. Thick cl<*ud
patches drifting across the sky made the
moon's bright light fitful. It was in a
moment when her radiance made every
thing almost as clear as day that they
left the shadow, and hardly had they
taken a dozen steps in the open road
when they heard in the air above them a
burst of Slavonic execration, coupled
with Mr. Brattle's name. On a high
trestle work supporting a car track were
three Slavs, looking like giants up there
in the moonlight, who instantly began,
with unpleasant expertuessofaim, hurl
ing lumps of coal and heavy irou mis
siles at them.
"Run for your life, Mr. Andrews,''
exclaimed tho superintendent, leaping
back into the breaker's shadow; "you
can't reason with those animals. Hide
before they climb down, or we will be
lost."
"RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, MR. ANDREWS."
Swiftly they ran around the breaker
to where a number of coal cars were
crowded together 011 tracks near the
mouth of tho "incline," or tunnel, pene
trating the depths of the mine. Into one
of these they clambered, and laid them
selves flat down in the snow and coa)
grime on its bottom. Trestlework over
head made all here obscure. Hardly
were they hidden when tliey beard their
pursuers running, stumbling, panting
and curring, after them."
The fellows were at a loss where to
look for their intended victims. They
held their breaths and listened. All was
still. They sought tracks, but the snow,
trampled before by many feet, betrayed
nothing. A few of the cars were peered
into, but those were evidently deemed
too open to be probable hiding places,
and search in that direction was only
cursory and ineffective. At the mouth
of the incline they stood and jabbered,
evidently agreeing upon that as the
shelter the hunted men had found. It
was a likely place. An armed man there
might, in that darkness, kill a dozen
following him.
Double tracks, 1,700 feet long, were
laid down in the incline for loaded cars
to come up 011 one side while empty ones
descended on the other. On these tracks
the murderous Slavs placed two cars
abreast, fastening across their fronts by
a chain a stout beam, long enough to
sweep the entire width of the tunnel
and inevitably crush any one lurking
there when tiie ponderous engine of de
struction was launched. One of the cars
used for this purpose was next to that
in which the fugitives lay concealed.
Just when they were about setting their
infernal contrivance in motion one of
them called a halt and made some pro
position, to which his companions seemed
to accord enthusiastic assent. Then lie
ran away and was gone full half an
hour, while they remained on guard.
He brought back with him a tin can,
sucli as those in which the "oil well
shooters" carry nitroglycerin. This
they ingeniously fastened lightly before
tho crossbeam in such a position that
it would surely be knocked off if the
timber were at all displaced by touching
anything.
Slowly and laboriously they pushed
the joined cars forward to the verge of
the slope, when the mass moved by its
own weight with momentarily accel
erating momentum. Tho moment it
started they ran swiftly and silently
away. Up from the throat of the mine
came a dull rumbling, quickly increas
ing to a roar, which culminated in a ter
rific explosion that seemed to shake the
mountain. The car containing Mr. Brat
tle and his companion was tipped 011 its
side, throwing them out, but fortunately
without hurting them.
I "Quick, now!" urged the superintend
jnt. "We must get away from here
before the crowd comes."
They ran a little way across the flat,
and then up the hillside road until com
ing voices alarmed them, when they
(lung themselves down in the shadow of
a clump of bushes behind a little pile of
mine timbers by the road. Gangs of
excited miners rushed by until it seemed
as if all the men in the community must
have gone down to the breaker. Still
the fugitives did not venture to move.
To return to Mr. Brattle's house they
would have had to pass through the
crowd of strikers, which in the light of
their recent experience hardly seemed
safe, or go by the mountain path, which
the superintendent did not know.
"If we stay here much longer 1 shall
be frozen stiff," remarked Mr. Andrews
in a whispered growl. "If we'd bad
just a little sense we would have staid
in the house and fixed up tho children's
Christmas tree."
"Well, this moonlight ramble was not
on my programme, yon know."
"And 1 was seventy sorts of a fool for
insisting on it. 1 know that now. 1
Bliould have remembered wtiat 1 huve
often thought—that you, here on the
ground, understood the situation much
better than wo could in New York."
"1 hope to convince you of that. You
shall see for yourself"
"If 1 live. Where the mischief do
you suppose they the nitroglycerin?"
"No telling. Stole it somewhere, 1
suppose."
Neither of the fugitives noticed a man
coming up from the breaker until he.
arriving within sound of their speech,
halted and uttered a sharp "Hello
there!", of challenge. It was Hugh 011
his way home after learning the little
concerning the explosion that could be
guessed at that night—tho Slavs having
had tho sense to keep accurate knowl
edge to themselves. His hasty imagin
ing, when he heard the voices, was that
the speakers were Slavs in ambush for
tho man ho meant to save, and it was a
great relief to his mind when Mr. Brattle
replied, uttering his name in a tone of
unmistakably gratified recognition:
"A friend and myself have escaped
from some fellows who wanted to kill
us. Will you help us to get away from
here?"
"With all my heart. Jump out here
and go with mo. We'll not be likely to
meet any one and can keep ahead of the
crowd that will be coming up present
ly." He led them straight to his
father's house, and when they had en
tered said, as he lighted the candle
"Here you will be safe until near day
light, when you can try for home.
Everybody will be asleep then, and I will
guide you by a road few travel at any
time."
Mr. Andrews looked about him with
a shudder, and sinking upon a stool put
his frozen feet on the stove hearth to
warm.
"Something ugly lias happened in the
incline," remarked Hugh, "but nobody !
seems to know rightly what it is."
"1 know all about it," replied Mr
Brattle, and related their adventure
with tho Slavs, asking in conclusion
how far their feeling was shared by tin
other men.
"Not at all, sir," answered the young
man warmly. "Barring the cattle im
ported by the company the time of the
strike, and perhaps one old crank, there's
none would harm a hair of your head,
and it will go hard with the Slavs who
did that devil's job tonight when the
men find them out."
"You feel sure of what you say?" de
manded Mr. Andrews Bharply.
"As that I am alive."
"Then I wish you would go at once to
tho leaders of the strike—l take it for
granted the men have leaders—and ask
them to como here at daylight for a con
ference. This strike can and must be
ended immediately. I know I'm giving
you trouble, but will make it wortb
your while."
"Don't speak of that, sir. I'd do any
thing honest to end the strike."
"Go ahead, then, and we will await
here your return."
Hugh went immediately. When he
was gone the superintendent said:
"Look about you, Mr. Andrews, and
see the home of an honest, sober, indus
trious and skillful miner—as Andrew
Corrigan is. Even the necessaries of
life are scant. Mere comforts here would
be luxuries. There may be a little corn
meal in the cupboard, but 110 other food
I would wager. Open that dinner can
hanging on the wall, and ten to one you
will find a block of wood in it. Do you
know why? That its lightness may not
betray its emptiness when the man car
ries it down into the itiine with him as
a public pretense that he can afford a
midday meal. See that patched gown
and trousers hung on the clotheshorse
to dry for daily use tomorrow. I'm glad
you have a chance to see this for your
self. I have long wanted to get one
director with a heart in him to come
here and learn the situation as it really
exists."
"But," stammered Mr. Andrews,
"this is dnring a rather prolonged
strike."
• "They were only a little better off
when they had work; more cornmeal
and perhaps now and then a bit of salt
pork when there were not too many
'shut downs,' but not much else. Noth
ing has gone to the pawnbrokers."
CHAPTER IV.
Hearing some movement in the noxt
room, the men noiselessly stepped into
the shadow of the clotheshorse. A
pretty little mite of a barefoot girl, with
light golden curls framing her pale,
thin face, appeared in the door, blinking
at the candle as if wondering at its
being alight. A man's coarse cardigan
jacket dangled around her ragged little '
nightdress, and site carried in one hand
a small stocking:
"Don't tare what gran'ma says," she
audibly soliloquized. "Santy Taus might {
turn. Ally dream Santy Taus b'ing i
gran'ma 'n gran'pa shoes, 'n dolly for
Ally, 'n watch f' Untie Hugh—lots to
eat."
While she talked she climbed up on a I
stool and put her stocking on the man
tel, with a chunk of crial on its toe and
the top dangling down—an excellent
symbol, Mr. Brattle thought, of the
miner's prospects in life.
"Do, p'ease, good Air. Sunty Taus,
bring us smnfin to eat anyway," she
said pleadingly, clambered down and
toddled off to bed. Presently they heard
her whimper, "Oh, I's so told," then all
was still.
iiailg^
"DO, P'EASE, GOOD MR. SANTY TADS.
BRING US SUMFIN TO EAT ANYWAY."
Mr. Andrews came from behind the
screen with tears in his eyes and in his
hand a wad of bank notes, which he
silently poked into the little stocking
and then, sitting down again, sank into a
reverie. Mr. Brattle did not disturb
him. Silence reigned, broken only by
the mournful howls of the wind, which
rose after midnight. At length the two
men whispered anxiously about Hugh's
protracted absence. Something they
feared must have happened to him. tie
came with the dawn, looking so worn
and haggard that his appearance
startled them. They didn't know it
but he had gone through over twenty
hours of almost continuous exertion
without a morsel of food, and that as the
culmination of weeks of starvation. He
reported:
"One of the men, the most important
had gone to Laurel Run, and I went over
after him."
"Fourteen miles, there and back, over
an exceptionally abominable mountain
road," Mr. Brattle explained, sotto voce
to his companion.
"He will be here," continued Hugh
"before 8 o'clock. 1 thought Miss Brat
tle might be anxious, so 1 stopped on the
way back to tell her you were safe, sir.'
"Thank you, Hugh. That was a good,
kind thing to do, and not a little one, for
it took you a good half mile out of your
way, and you must have been very tired."
"Oh, that's nothing, sir. I'm glad 1
went."
"Did you see Mary herself?"
"The minute after 1 knocked. She
was so anxious she had not gone to bed
but when I left her mind was easy. She
told me to wish you a merry Christmas
sir."
"My Godl" exploded Air. Andrews
"The idea of a merry Christmas here!"
"It depends on you," responded Air
Brattle to him in a low tone.
Presently Air. Corrigan, tousled, testy
and surprised, emerged from his bed
room. All the hospitality at his com
mand he extended to his visitors—he put
more coal in the stove. Then he took
down the woman's gown from the
clotheshorse and handed it into the bed
room that Mrs. Corrigan might dress
herself. When she came out she brought
the coarse gray blanket from her bed
and laid it over the sleeping child in
place of the jacket, which Air. Corrigan
then put on.
Mary Brattle came over on horseback
at a very early hour, bringing with her
a big basket full of bacon, bread and
coffee.
"1 knew you had guests this morn
ing," she said to Airs, Corrigan, "whom
it is my duty to take care of, so 1 hope
you will not be offended at my helping
you to entertain them." Her tone was
so frank and friendly that it won the
matron's good will at once, and no re
bellious pride prejudiced her against the
prospect of a good breakfast. In a few
minutes the bacon was sizzling in a pan
and for the first time in many months
the aroma of coffee amazed the atmos
phere of the miner's home. Alice
awoke and sniffed it. With a scramble
and plunge she was out of bed and in
the middle of the family room, staring
with wonder dilated eyes at the prep
arations for breakfast and quite ob
livious of the presence of strangers.
Throwing up her hands, with a shrill
scream of ecstatic joy, she cried:
"Oh, gran'ma, Santy Taus did turn!"
The strikers' committee appeared on
time, and the superintendent formally
introduced to them his companion, "Air
George Andrews, the new president of
the Black Ragle Coal Alining company."
"Men," said Air. Andrews to them, "1
have only recently been elected to the
directorate and made president of this I
company. Until now I have never been
in the anthracite country, knew nothing
of the conditions of existence here and
would have been powerless to change
the company's policy if 1 had known.
All that is changed. We have a new
management. 1 know the facts—thanks
to Air. Brattle—and am happy to say
that I have power to act as my judgment
dictates. Work will bo resumed in the
colliery tomorrow at old rates; 'shut
downs' will be rare in the future, and
all the old hands are invited to take
their places again—except the Slavs
and Hungarians; we will have no more
of them."
The happy news flew abroad as light
spreads when the sun rises; joyous hur
rahs everywhere welcomed the ending j
of the strike, and "Merry Christmas" |
was heard on all sides from lips which I
certainly would not have uttered the
words that day—except perhaps in bit- I
ter irony—but for the unexpected ending j
of their misery. And Mr. Andrews j
helped to make the day a merry one by j
ordering tho opening of the company's j
store and distribution of such liberal I
largesse of provisions as banished hunger I
and carried comfort into every honest
home in the community.
I.—A merry tme this week at
the busy
FREELAND
READY
FAY.
Holiday goods to the front.
Doll babies, lc, tic, 10c,
15c, 25c, 50c, 75c, etc.
They will all dance the
jig, "The store I leave be
hind nie" to the tune of 20
2>er cent, saved by the cash
system.
2.—The next is boys' sleighs,
shoo fly, horses, steam en
gines, ten-pins, and blocks
and thousands of other ar
ticles marked in plain fig
ures. Original song and
dance, "(Jasli tells the tale."
3.—Without any intermission
Ladies' and Children's
Coats
reeuced, some to one-half
their value. Heel and toe,
"Away we go," at 50c on
the dollar.
4.—Men's candee gum boots,
every pair guaranteed. A
full line of rubber goods;
will be enjoyed by Santa
Clans and all in the ap
proacliing storm. "Blown
down," solo, by the cash
system.
s.—Stylish
Plaid Dress
Goods,
twenty-live cents; were 50c
last week. Will linish this
enjoyable programme by
everybody singing "Where
is McGinty now "
(>.—One hundred per cent
Wool Blankets
at $5.00.
Will keep the 79c Kentucky
white cotton wool behind
the rush and make the
sheep cry "Ta la ra boom
d'e ay," while the band
plays the cash solo.
7.—Girls of 100 years and under
will be furnished witli ex
tra pouches to carry of the
English walnuts, hazle nuts,
cream nuts.
Brazilian nuts, 125 cents
per pound.
Xmas candy, 10 cents per
pound.
B.—No extra charges for special
and reserved goods, such as
the inner man wants.
Turkeys, Chickens,
Geese and Ducks,
with a little Kalamzoo eel
ery. All forgotten bundles
delivered free of charge.
Don't forget to mark the
street and number on them.
Yours, etc.,
J. C. Serner.
CITIZENS' BANK
OF
FREELAND.
15 Front Street.
Capital, - ?50,0C0.
OFFICERS.
JOSEPH RIRKBKCK, President.
H. C. KOONS, Vice President.
11. U. DAVIS, Cashier.
JOHN SMITH, Secretary.
DIRECTORS.
Joseph Dirk book, Thomas Hi rk beck. John
WiijmiT. A llmlewh-k, H. r. Koons, C harles
DusnoeU, William Kemp, Mnthias Sel.wiihe
John Smith, John M. l'owell, 2d, John Burton!
jar" Three per cent, interest paid on savlmr
deposits. "
.XuS.™ I"• m - to4 p ' m - Satur <x>r
WM. WEHRMANN,
German Practical Watchmaker.
Centre Street, Five Points.
3STe-w "\X7"atclxes
and. Cloclcs
for sale. The cheapest repairing store
in town. All repairing guaran
teed for one year.
GOLD AND SILVER PLATING DONE.
Guarantee good satisfaction; defy competi
tion in quality and in prices. Tweuty-ilvo
years in business.
GIVE US A CALL.
ELEGTROPOISE
Office REMOVED to
lO t Mt. Vernon Ht., PHILADELPHIA.
Persons desirhw city or countu agencies addre 9
/. D. WARE, tienerul Agent
For the Stutes of Pennsylvania, New Jersey
Maryland uud Delaware.