the iron puddler-第7节
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He lives in the builder's house； but he is not a builder。 He undermines that house； he is a rat。
Some men are by nature beavers； and some are rats； yet they all belong to the human race。 The people that came to this country in the early days were of the beaver type and they built up America because it was in their nature to build。 Then the rat…people began coming here； to house under the roof that others built。 And they try to undermine and ruin it because it is in their nature to destroy。 They call themselves anarchists。
A civilization rises when the beaver…men outnumber the rat…men。 When the rat…men get the upper hand the civilization falls。 Then the rats turn and eat one another and that is the end。 Beware of breeding rats in America。
CHAPTER IX
THE SCATTERED FAMILY
For three years after we came to Sharon I went to school； and in my spare time worked at my shoe shining and other odd jobs。 We had bought feather beds again and our little home was a happy one。 By hanging around the depot spotting traveling men who needed a shine； or their grips carried； I got acquainted with the telegraph agent。 And so I got the job of telegraph messenger boy。
Few telegrams were sent； and then only when somebody died。 So whenever I carried a telegram I knew that I was the bearer of bad news。 Accidents happened in the mines and iron mills。 And when a man was killed； it often meant his wife and babies would face hunger； for the jobs were not the kind for women and children； muscular men were needed。 Aside from the occupation of housewife； there was nothing for a woman to do in those days except to take in washing or sewing。
Of the many death messages that I bore to the workers' homes in Sharon； few found a home that was able to last a day after the burial of the bread…winner。 He had failed to make provision for such an accident；no savings in the bank； no life insurance。 As soon as the worker was stricken his children were at the mercy of the world。 I saw so much of this； that the pity of it entered deep into my boy…heart and never afterward could I forget it。
I talked with the station agent； the banker and the hotel keeper。 The station agent had money in the bank which he was saving to educate his boy to be a telegrapher。 He also carried life insurance。 〃If I should die；〃 he said； 〃my wife would collect enough insurance to start a boarding…house。 My boy would have money enough to learn a trade。 Then he could get as good a job as I have。〃 The hotel keeper told me that if he should die his wife could run the hotel just the same； it being free of debt and earning enough money so that she could hire a man to do the work he had been doing。 The banker owned bonds and if he died the bonds would go right on earning money for his children。
These men were capitalists and their future was provided for。 Most of the mill…workers were only laborers； they had no capital and the minute their labors ended they were done for。 The workers were kind…hearted； and when a fellow was killed in the mill or died of sickness they went to his widow and with tears in their eyes reached into their pockets and gave her what cash they had。 I never knew a man to hang back when a collection for a widow was being taken。 Contributions sometimes were as high as five dollars。 It made a heartrending scene： the broken body of a once strong man lying under a white sheet； the children playing around and laughing （if they were too young to know what it meant）； the mother frantic with the thought that her brood was now homeless； and the big grimy workers wiping their tears with a rough hand and putting silver dollars into a hat。
With this money and the last wages of the dead man； the widow paid for the funeral and sometimes bought a ticket to the home of some relative who would give her her 〃keep〃 in return for her labor in the house。 Other relatives might each take one of the children 〃to raise；〃 who； thus scattered； seldom if ever got together again。 When I became an iron worker there were several fellows in our union who didn't know whether they had a relative on earth。 One of them； Bill Williams； said to me： 〃Jim； no wonder you're always happy。 You've got so many brothers that there's always two of you together； whether it's playing in the band； on the ball nine or working at the furnace。 If I had a brother around I wouldn't get the blues the way I do。 I've got some brothers somewhere in this world； but I'll probably never know where they are。〃
Then he told how his father had died when he was three years old。 There were several children； and they were taken by relatives。 He was sent to his grandmother； whose name was Williams。 That was not his name。 Before he was seven both his grandparents died and he was taken by a farmer who called him Bill。 The farmer did not send him to school and he grew up barely able to write his name； Will Williams； which was not his real name。 He didn't even know what his real name was。
〃Probably my brothers are alive；〃 he said； 〃but what chance have I got of ever finding them when I don't know what the family name is。 Maybe they've all got new names now like I have。 Maybe I've met my own brothers and we never knew it。 I'd give everything in the world； if I had it； to look into a man's face and know that he was my brother。 It must be a wonderful feeling。〃
These things are the tragedies of the poor。 And although such a misfortune never happened to me； this problem stared me in the face when I began carrying those fatal telegrams。 I tackled the problem with a boyish mind。 I soon resolved it into these propositions：
When a laborer dies his little children are scattered to the winds。 Brothers and sisters may never see one another again。
When a man with property dies； his children are kept together。 Their future is made safe by the property。
Labor provides for to…day。 Property provides for to…morrow。
That truth was driven into my mind when I saw one family after another scattered by the death of a laborer。 A merchant in Sharon died； and his children； after the funeral； kept right on going to school。 There was no doubting the truth of my rule： Labor makes the present day safebut the present day only。 Capital safeguards the future。
From that day on； I argued that we should buy a home and save a little every day for capital。 It was our duty thus to protect ourselves； should our father die； against being scattered among strangers。
CHAPTER X
MELODRAMA BECOMES COMEDY
Every race gets a nickname in America。 A Frenchman is a 〃frog；〃 a negro a 〃coon〃 and a Welshman a 〃goat。〃 All the schoolboys who were not Welsh delighted in teasing us by applying the uncomplimentary nickname。 This once resulted at the Sharon operahouse； in turning a dramatic episode into a howling farce。
I was acting as a super in the sensational drama She； by H。 Rider Haggard。 Two Englishmen were penetrating the mysterious jungles of Africa； and I was their native guide and porter。 They had me all blacked up like a negro minstrel； but this wasn't a funny show； it was a drama of mystery and terror。 While I was guiding the English travelers through the jungle of the local stage； we penetrated into the land of the wall…eyed cannibals。
The cannibals captured me and prepared to eat me in full view of the audience while the Englishmen behind the trees looked on in horror。 The cannibals； who were also supers led by an actor of the 〃troupe；〃 set up a hot pot to boil my bones in。 I was bound hand and foot； while the cannibals； armed with spears； danced around me in a heathen ceremony； chanting a voodoo chant and reciting a rigmarole by which cannibals are supposed to make their human feast on a sacred rite。 As they danced about me in a circle； they sang：
〃Is it an ox？ Him…yah； him…yah。〃 And they jabbed their spears into me。 Some of the supers jabbed me pretty hard； among them Babe Durgon； who delighted in tormenting me。
〃Is it a sheep？ Him…yah； him…yah。〃 Again they jabbed me； and I was so mad I was cussing them under my breath。
〃Is it a pig？ Him…yah； him…yah。〃
The audience was breathless with tense excitement。
〃Is it a goat？〃
The entire gallery broke into a whirlwind roar： 〃Yes！ yes！ He's a goat。〃
Laughter rocked the audience。 They all knew I was Welsh and saw the joke。 The horror and suspense had been so great that when it broke with comic relief the house was really hysterical。 It stopped the show。
I played supernumerary parts in many shows that winter including Richard III and other Shakespearean plays。 At the battle of Bosworth field where Richard cries： 〃A horse； a horse； my kingdom for a horse；〃 the supers in the army were clattering their swords on the opposing shields in a great hubbub and shouting； 〃Hay； hay hay！〃 I was of a thrifty turn of mind； and said： 〃Hold on； boys。 Don't order too much hay until we see whether he gets the horse or not。〃
A hypnotist came to the opera…house and I volunteered to be hypnotized。 He couldn't hypnotize me。 I felt rather bad about it。 I was out of the show。 Later I learned that all of the 〃Perfessor's〃 best subjects came with him under salary； and the local boys who made good were faking like the professionals。 The whole thing was a cheat and I had not caught on。 I was too seri
