s an important part in the social life of the
mill hands. There are gatherings of all sorts from one Sunday to
another, and on Sunday there are almost continuous services. There are
frequent conversions. When the Presbyterian form fails they "try" the
Baptist. There is no moral instruction; it is all purely religious; and
they join one church or another more as they would a social club than an
ordained religious organization.

Friday was "social" night at the church. Sometimes there was a "poverty"
social, when every one put on shabby clothes, and any one who wore a
correct garment of any sort was fined for the benefit of the church.
Pound socials were another variety of diversion, where all the
attendants were weighed on arriving and charged a cent admission for
every pound of avoirdupois.

The most popular socials, however, were box socials, and it was to one
of these I decided to go with two girls boarding in the house. Each of
us packed a box with lunch as good as we could afford--eggs, sandwiches,
cakes, pickles, oranges--and arrived with these, we proceeded to the
vestry-room, where we found an improvised auctioneer's table and a pile
of boxes like our own, which were marked and presently put up for sale.
The youths of the party bid cautiously or recklessly, according as their
inward conviction told them that the box was packed by friend or foe.

My box, which, like the rest, had supper for two, was bid in by a tall,
nice-looking mill hand, and we installed ourselves in a corner to eat
and talk. He was full of reminiscence and had had a checkered career.
His first experience had been at night work in a paper mill. He worked
eleven hours a night one week, thirteen hours a night the next week, in
and out of doors, drenched to the skin. He had lost twenty-five pounds
in less than a year, and his face was a mere mask drawn over the
irregular bones of the skull.

"I always like whatever I am doing," he responded at my protestation of
sympathy. "I think that's the only way to be. I never had much appetite
at night. They packed me an elegant pail, but somehow all cold food
didn't relish much. I never did like a pail.... How would you like to
take a dead man's place?" he asked, looking at me grimly.

I begged him to explain.

"One of my best friends," he began, "was working alongside of me, and I
guess he got dizzy or something, for he leaned up against the big belt
that ran all the machinery and he was lifted right