ain of railroads
cease to run. A quarter of a million miners throw down pick and shovel
and outrage the sun with their pale, bleached faces. The street railways
of a swarming metropolis stand idle, or the rumble of machinery in vast
manufactories dies away to silence. There is alarm and panic. Arson and
homicide stalk forth. There is a cry in the night, and quick anger and
sudden death. Peaceful cities are affrighted by the crack of rifles and
the snarl of machine-guns, and the hearts of the shuddering are shaken by
the roar of dynamite. There is hurrying and skurrying. The wires are
kept hot between the centre of government and the seat of trouble. The
chiefs of state ponder gravely and advise, and governors of states
implore. There is assembling of militia and massing of troops, and the
streets resound to the tramp of armed men. There are separate and joint
conferences between the captains of industry and the captains of labor.
And then, finally, all is quiet again, and the memory of it is like the
memory of a bad dream.

But these strikes become olympiads, things to date from; and common on
the lips of men become such phrases as "The Great Dock Strike," "The
Great Coal Strike," "The Great Railroad Strike." Never before did labor
do these things. After the Great Plague in England, labor, finding
itself in demand and innocently obeying the economic law, asked higher
wages. But the masters set a maximum wage, restrained workingmen from
moving about from place to place, refused to tolerate idlers, and by most
barbarous legal methods punished those who disobeyed. But labor is
accorded greater respect today. Such a policy, put into effect in this
the first decade of the twentieth century, would sweep the masters from
their seats in one mighty crash. And the masters know it and are
respectful.

A fair instance of the growing solidarity of labor is afforded by an
unimportant recent strike in San Francisco. The restaurant cooks and
waiters were completely unorganized, working at any and all hours for
whatever wages they could get. A representative of the American
Federation of Labor went among them and organized them. Within a few
weeks nearly two thousand men were enrolled, and they had five thousand
dollars on deposit. Then they put in their demand for increased wages
and shorter hours. Forthwith their employers organized. The demand was
denied, and the Cooks' and Waiters' Union walked out.

All or