the friendly road-第28节

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〃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；　〃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　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　s