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es 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 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 presented。 I soon learned that he was R… D…； the leader of whom I had often heard； and heard no good thing。 He was quite a different type from Bill Hahn： he was the man of authority； the organizer； the diplomatas Bill was the prophet； preaching a holy war。
How wonderful human nature is！ Only a short time before I had been thrilled by the intensity of the passion of the throng； but here the mood suddenly changed to one of friendly gayety。 Fully a third of those present were women； some of them plainly from the mills and some of them curiously differentwomen from other walks in life who had thrown themselves heart and soul into the strike。 Without ceremony but with much laughing and joking； they found their places around the tables。 A cook； who appeared in a dim doorway was greeted with a shout； to which he responded with a wide smile； waving the long spoon which he held in his hand。
I shall not attempt to give any complete description of the gathering or of what they said or did。 I think I could devote a dozen pages to the single man who was placed next to me。 I was interested in him from the outset。 The first thing that struck me about him was an air of neatness； even fastidiousness； about his personthough he wore no stiff collar； only a soft woollen shirt without a necktie。 He had the long sensitive； beautiful hands of an artist； but his face was thin and marked with the pallor peculiar to the indoor worker。 I soon learned that he was a weaver in the mills； an Englishman by birth； and we had not talked two minutes before I found that； while he had never had any education in the schools； he had been a gluttonous reader of books all kind of booksand； what is more； had thought about them and was ready with vigorous （and narrow） opinions about this author or that。 And he knew more about economics and sociology； I firmly believe； than half the college professors。 A truly remarkable man。
It was an Italian restaurant； and I remember how； in my hunger； I assailed the generous dishes of boiled meat and spaghetti。 A red wine was served in large bottles which circulated rapidly around the table； and almost immediately the room began to fill with tobacco smoke。 Every one seemed to be talking and laughing at once； in the liveliest spirit of good fellowship。 They joked from table to table； and sometimes the whole room would quiet down while some one told a joke； which invariably wound up with a roar of laughter。
〃Why；〃 I said； 〃these people have a whole life； a whole society； of their own！〃
In the midst of this jollity the clear voice of a girl rang out with the first lines of a song。 Instantly the room was hushed：
Arise； ye prisoners of starvation； Arise； ye wretched of the earth； For justice thunders condemnation A better world's in birth。
These were the words she sang； and when the clear； sweet voice died down the whole company； as though by a common impulse； arose from their chairs； and joined in a great swelling chorus：
It is the final conflict； Let each stand in his place； The Brotherhood of Man Shall be the human race。
It was beyond belief； to me； the spirit with which these words were su