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a dinner of baked beans〃and I smacked〃and home made bread〃 and I
smacked again 〃and pumpkin pie〃and I smacked a third time〃that
will make your mouth water。〃
All this smacking and the description of baked beans and pumpkin pie
had an odd counter effect upon ME； for I suddenly recalled my own tragic
state。 So I jumped up quickly and asked directions for getting down to the
mill neighbourhood； where I hoped to find Bill Hahn。 My friend Healy
instantly volunteered the information。
〃And now；〃 I said； 〃I want to ask a small favour of you。 I'm looking
for a friend； and I'd like to leave my bag here for the night。〃
〃Sure； sure；〃 said the Irishman heartily。 〃Put it there in the officeon
top o' the desk。 It'll be all right。〃
So I put it in the office and was about to say good…bye； when my friend
said to me：
〃Come in； partner； and have a drink before you go〃and he pointed to
a nearby saloon。
〃Thank you；〃 I answered heartily； for I knew it was as fine a bit of
hospitality as he could offer me； 〃thank you； but I must find my friend
before it gets too late。〃
〃Aw； come on now；〃 he cried； taking my arm。 〃Sure you'll be better off
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for a bit o' warmth inside。〃
I had hard work to get away from them； and I am as sure as can be that
they would have found supper and a bed for me if they had known I
needed either。
〃Come agin；〃 Healy shouted after me； 〃we're glad to see a farmer any
toime。〃
My way led me quickly out of the well…groomed and glittering main
streets of the town。 I passed first through several blocks of quiet
residences； and then came to a street near the river which was garishly
lighted； and crowded with small； poor shops and stores； with a saloon on
nearly every corner。 I passed a huge； dark； silent box of a mill； and I saw
what I never saw before in a city； armed men guarding the streets。
Although it was growing lateit was after nine o'clockcrowds of
people were still parading the streets； and there was something intangibly
restless； something tense； in the very atmosphere of the neighbourhood。 It
was very plain that I had reached the strike district。 I was about to make
some further inquiries for the headquarters of the mill men or for Bill
Hahn personally； when I saw； not far ahead of me； a black crowd of people
reaching out into the street。 Drawing nearer I saw that an open space or
block between two rows of houses was literally black with human beings；
and in the centre on a raised platform； under a gasolene flare； I beheld my
friend of the road； Bill Hahn。 The overcoat and the hat with the furry ears
had disappeared； and the little man stood there bare…headed； before that
great audience。
My experience in the world is limited； but I have never heard anything
like that speech for sheer power。 It was as unruly and powerful and
resistless as life itself。 It was not like any other speech I ever heard； for it
was no mere giving out by the orator of ideas and thoughts and feelings of
his own。 It seemed ratherhow shall I describe it？as though the speaker
was looking into the very hearts of that vast gathering of poor men and
poor women and merely telling them what they themselves felt； but could
not tell。 And I shall never forget the breathless hush of the people or the
quality of their responses to the orator's words。 It was as though they said；
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〃Yes； yes〃 with a feeling of vast relief〃Yes； yesat last our own hopes
and fears and desires are being utteredyes； yes。〃
As for the orator himself； he held up one maimed hand and leaned
over the edge of the platform； and his undistinguished face glowed with
the white light of a great passion within。 The man had utterly forgotten
himself。
I confess； among those eager working people； clad in their poor
garments； I confess I was profoundly moved。 Faith is not so bounteous a
commodity in this world that we can afford to treat even its unfamiliar
manifestations with contempt。 And when a movement is hot with life；
when it stirs common men to their depths； look out！ look out！
Up to that time I had never known much of the practical workings of
Socialism； and the main contention of its philosophy has never accorded
wholly with my experience in life。
But the Socialism of to…day is no mere abstractionas it was； perhaps；
in the days of Brook Farm。 It is a mode of action。 Men whose view of life
is perfectly balanced rarely soil themselves with the dust of battle。 The
heat necessary to produce social conflict （and social progresswho
knows？） is generated by a supreme faith that certain principles are
universal in their application when in reality they are only local or
temporary。
Thus while one may not accept the philosophy of Socialism as a final
explanation of human life； he may yet look upon Socialism in action as a
powerful method of stimulating human progress。 The world has been
lagging behind in its sense of brotherhood； and we now have the Socialists
knit together in a fighting friendship as fierce and narrow in its motives as
Calvinism； pricking us to reform； asking the cogent question：
〃Are we not all brothers？〃
Oh； we are going a long way with these Socialists； we are going to
discover a new world of social relationshipsand then； and then； like a
mighty wave； will flow in upon us a renewed and more wonderful sense of
the worth of the individual human soul。 A new individualism； bringing
with it； perhaps； some faint realization of our dreams of a race of
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Supermen； lies just beyond！ Its prophets； girded with rude garments and
feeding upon the wild honey of poverty； are already crying in the
wilderness。
I think I could have remained there at the Socialist meeting all night
long： there was something about it that brought a hard； dry twist to my
throat。 But after a time my friend Bill Hahn； evidently quite worn out；
yielded his place to another and far less clairvoyant speaker； and the crowd；
among whom I now discovered quite a number of policemen； began to
thin out。
I made my way forward and saw Bill Hahn and several other men
just leaving the platform。 I stepped up to him； but it was not until I called
him by name （I knew how absent minded he was！） that he recognized me。
〃Well； well；〃 he said； 〃you came after all！〃
He seized me by both arms and introduced me to several of his
companions as 〃Brother Grayson。〃 They all shook hands with me warmly。
Although he was perspiring； Bill put on his overcoat and the old fur
hat with the ears； and as he now took my arm I could feel one of his
bulging pockets beating against my leg。 I had not the slightest idea where
they were going； but Bill held me by the arm and presently we came； a
block or so distant； to a dark； narrow stairway leading up from the street。 I
recall the stumbling sound of steps on the wooden boards； a laugh or two；
the high voice of a woman asserting and denying。 Feeling our way along
the wall； we came to the top and went into a long； low； rather dimly
lighted room set about with tables and chairsa sort of restaurant。 A
number of men and a few women had already gathered there。 Among them
my eyes instantly singled out a huge； rough…looking man who stood at the
centre of an animated group。 He had thick； shaggy hair； and one side of his
face over the cheekbone was of a dull blue…black and raked and scarred；
where it had been burned in a Powder blast。 He had been a miner。 His gray
eyes； which had a surprisingly youthful and even humorous expression；
looked out from under coarse； thick； gray brows。 A very remarkable face
and figure he