{ title: 'The Clarion. volume (Troy, N.Y.) 1886-1887, August 21, 1886, Page 1, Image 1', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/np00170002/1886-08-21/ed-1/seq-1/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/np00170002/1886-08-21/ed-1/seq-1.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/np00170002/1886-08-21/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/np00170002/1886-08-21/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
Image provided by: Rensselaer County Historical Society
bss Ive I I! ^ Men’s we In riaede if ad- f our ? iMi. S, glaa iac ■ok. 3^ 7 . YOL. I, NUMBER 16. TROY, N. Y., AUGUST 21, 1886. PRICE 3 CENTS. THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE. SONG POR THE KNIGHTS OF LABOR. IT JAIIIB a, CLA1>- STCtgloward. o: g it's of thefatore, BwtsgO'.t.r»Td7e doori of toe put, yoT Uw tout of me p;opl» is lEOTlng .ma iTBisg from slumMr »t list; Ttie Umk forms of DlgLt tr ; retrMtlsg, Tbe »bit« pesks tasTS sigasled tbe a v , A£il Freedom ber loog rou U besiicg, And ciiimg te r sons to (be titr- Asd wo.to ttserole tbst b u plnndered And irod do pn tbS wouLded and slsls, W bUeibeosnof Toe Old Urns bsTe tbundered And men poured tbelr Ut.-tldeln vun; Tbe iS7 of l:s tr. umpb is esdlog, TbeerenlEgdriirs near v ltb ltd doom, And c b e sur of its (tree gtb isaetcsbdligi To sleep la dlsbo&or and gloom. TbO'tbe Mil trees sre crotrmd c» tbe tigU&ndi Wflb tbe Bret geld of r.lLbow end sun, WbUe t>r lb toe olstsEua b;low tbem Tbs r.TSrsla dark sbsdoKsrun, And tbe Bleeds Of tbe Hen TlmesbEdi spurs tbem Witb me SOUS of t jeir i«u.-9;U g feet. SKlig la n r } , b : gaKA UU tbe monlbg snail paint tbe brown mouLtams la gold. Till me life and tbe lore of tbe New Time SU b c o .qurrm e bMOOl me Old, Let tbe lace . t d me hand of me Uaster ; no ,oig<.r bs bidden iron new, Nor me lanos be pr-psred tor tbe manr Be trampled and robbed bg tbe few. TOO SS.1 tsUatbe same tniuiol storg, Tbeaeaio.smtir bounties dlsplag, And the flowera lift tbelrlaC slu giory Wbile oar fello xs are treated as ci uust me BM piesd in vain that me rlrer U V f.tom toite motbo liritat, AAd meearcQ begtbe rain clondeto give ber Of de« B meg have drawn rrom ber bresst? Lo! me Btswir comes back la a mutter froadcuneR wb-reme gn ck lightnings gMw, And from belgaiB where me mau waters u iu r Tneir warnings to dwtU?re below. A£d won to m e tobbns who gatbei In fleids where meg sever bare eo wn, Who bare stolen me jewels from labor And bunded to Memmoa a mroct; For tbe snow-kisg BBietp bg me fountsiss tAsll w ks lb the sommei’s hot bream, ABd deeoend In hot rage from tbs mcuatalns Bearing terror, aeeintction and deam. ASd tbe mrone of meir god shall be crumbled. And loetceptrebi swept from u e hand, And me heart of ihe haugntg be bumbled, And a servant be chief in me land— And tbe Tram and me rower united For tbe Lord of the harvest hath said It— 'Whose Ups never uttered a ue Jnd bis prophets and poets bare read It tn symbols of Farm and la skg; That to him who has reveled la pluLder TUI me angel of conscience U dumb. The shock Of tbe earthquake and thunder And temp. St and torrents sbtU come, swing laws rd, 01 gates of the rature. Swing oaiward ge doors of the past, AguntiswakUgfrom slamber And rending bis fetters a t la s t- Ffom the dust where hls proDd tgrants found hist Cnhworedand scorned and betraged, Be shall rise with me suebght around him And role In the realm he has made. (Presn the Labor Free Frees.) A Tale of Two Boycotts. “UNKNOWN” K .O F L. ( EAPTER IV. BOVS AGAIN IH “ MY MARTLANP.\ I did not at that time understand all loss in a high college meant, but 1 sa at once my husband was in tiouble and 1 moat readily s u d : “Why, it will be no disappointment to mf*. dear. 1 was just thinking of going home to see papa. You know he has let a little cottage at Bostic station on well known railroad. He says it is within s few minutes’ ride of Baltimore,and the scenery is beautiful as high hills are all around. He wilt be glad to have us for a few days, and, then, if his cottage is too small as he is alone with a serrant, we will have a b etterand have him come -with ns. Let us do that!” I exclaimed. H] husband brightened up and ki«eed me fondly with the words: “Indeed you are my sanbeam, tbe best little wife. Let.me see your father's letter.\ I got i t for him. After reading it he smiled : “WeU, we will go for the summer any how. In tbe meantime I will try to see what 1 can do to get a professorship in some college at once.’’ “When shall we g et” I said: “To-morrow if you lik^ dear, i will hot attend the commencement after soch treatment fVom PiesidentG. But I wish to stay here a few weeks longer to make another engagement if I can. For you are aware that all schools or colleges en gage their profeesors now, so they will be ready for their fall opening.\ \1 am to go home alone thenl ’ and I most say 1 pouted and my eyes filled witb tears. My husbiud laughed: “Yon dear, foolish little thing. I would not keep you here all this hot summer for anythiug. It is now the middle of Jnne, are you not alt packed up}’’ “Yes,” I murmured. He then went off somewhere to smoke in a much cheerier mood. 1 thought awhile, then I, too, brightened up. It wonld be so nice to Uke papa by sur prise, and then fix things for my hus band’s coming. For 1 knew bow men kept bonse. I sprang up and conunenoed to gather up ail my little belongings snch as books and ornaments, and pictures. When put in a heap on the bed and floor I found that a trunk would not hold tbem, and set about wrapping tbem np and tying them together to have ready packed for express I had to cease packing to dress for dinner and when Frufeesor joined me ready dressed to take me down, we both were in a most cheerful mood, and he admired my energy and laughed over my burry to g et away. The next morning I bad said gcod-bye to my husband and was going home as fast as tie express could take me. Home 1 arid. Hardly ought 1 to use the word home in that senae. For rather had not Hew York city been my home for three happy years. And was I not now goiug to astrange place and a strange house! But, had cot my eyes fin>l seen tbe light under Maryland’s skies? Bad not home meant then mother, father, brothers and sisters, dear old &mily col ored servants? Home meant to me then everything dear. Now as I relumed as <iaick as steam could take me to my na tive akies, to my native earth, to my only remaining parent, was it not my home in the dearest, truest, sweetest sense of the word? Would not my husband join me there, and could not we make home—no matter how humble—among its green bills or in its fertile valleys? I was absorbed in tbe sweet pictures memory conjared up. Tbe many boors seemed as one when I arrived about sun set to a wayside station and got ofi' look ing fresh and feeling eo. The train whistled away, and I was alone on tbe long bare platform. Hy numerous trunks and boxes had been put off tome distance up. Tbe station and hotel were in one. A baggagei appeared and asked me if all that was my baggage. I looked at his astonished face and said “yes.” “How can I get it taken to the house for me. Bose Cottage is the name.’’ “I will see to that Miss,” he smiled and passed on. 1 went to the ticket office where a sol emn man kept watch and I asked him “could he get some one to show the way to Bose Cottage?” “Yes,” he said,“are yon the old gen tleman’s daughter? He seems mighty lonely all by himself up there. I am glad you have come, Miss, to keep him com- I was so pleased; tbe first person that almost spoke to me, welcomed me. called a small colored boy to show tbe way. It was not far, but a steep hill with a road that wound around it to make it easier for canines, then, too, Rose Cottage was b nried among the trees. Cottage dotted the hilltop everywhere. Once on the.top we had a splendid view of the valley, and tbe railroad and station a quarter of a mile below us. Having reached tbe gate I thanked the little barefoot guide and dropped a piec of silver into bis cap; then turned and opened the fancy wood gate. Quite pretty olose-shaven lawn with brignt flower beds met my view. 1 then glanced at tbe bonse—a small cottage, bat new and trim, with a porch where my dear father sat reading. 1 stole op to him and put my arms around his neck without his seeing ; and kissed him. He was very glad to see me and welcomed me witb his best. One of our old servants was hU house keeper and factotum. She was glad to see me also, and soon bad a spare room ready fur me. Indeed, my father bad only two bed-rooms furnished and the down stairs rooms. It was a small box of a cottage, just built for the summer months, and my father whose business was in tbe city, and bad to go every day, took it just for the warm weather. But be, and our old servant, made me at home in a few mo ments. Soon a delicious tea was ready, hurried on my occonnt, as they smd I must be Then my father and myself went out under tbe trees, and I told him of why I came to Maryland so suddenly. He thought it was right and much better than going to the seashore. When I went to my room that night, 1 stood at tbe small window and thought bow strange the silence after the roar and murmur of a great city. The air cool and sweet with scent of new mown hay, and I slept soundly until morning. Tbe first ray of sunshine awoke all the birds and they, burst into song right at my window so it seemed. CHAPTER V. I that ’ s “ sometdino ” again . (Test d’aDord rumeuT irgere.—Rosslirs B-:rbler deseviue. Hew condudve a country life is to thought. The early bed-time, the early riting, for who cares to sleep away tbe loveliest hours of a summer day ! I was much alone, as my father left for the city by eight, and often earlier; and did n ot lelnm until far in the afternoon. But 1 had my trunk to unpack and ar range at first; then letters to write al most daily to my husband; books and papers—to read. I bad not been long at Bose Cottage before 1 knew all tbe pretty walks around the village and sta tion, as well as on our MU. Thus I got to know a great many people, small farmers and storekeepers and other desl- 1 would go to meet papa at the station and get my letters at the same time. I had been at Rose Cottage about six weeks, spendiug my time in this mono- tottOQB &shion—not unpleasautty to me however—when one eveniog I received a letter from my husband. I had bad one intbe morning, so it somewhat sur prised me. As we walked home I read my letter: “Mydearest, I amheartstek. Allthe best schools have professors engaged lor the next year. Those I knew that wished a professor of languages and I called upon them, either met me coldly and preferred someone else, or boldly told me that they bad beard something a g ^ s t me. Not one of them could be induced to tell me what. This is very strange. I am completely bewildered, and, in fact, do not know what to do. Advise me; often when a man becomes despondent as I am now, tne fresh and free from care opinion of a aoman helps him, and is of great value to him. And you, my sueshine, can but help me, nay, you have dene u so often, and of late by your bappy letters.” I put.my letter by on reaching home, and did not mention it to papa, as I did not care to spoU our pleasant dinner by unwelcome news. That night I sat long by my chamber window, looking into tbe deep, dark night sky, spangled with thousands of stars—for help and gnidsnee an my ad vice lo my husband. This may seem a light thing to those whom slander has never touched with ber smntty finger; and it may seem light to advise one’s husband how to a c t But I knew full well what it cost to live in New York, and we would not like to go back and live differently from the past years spent there. In fact, my friends there might be, and would—1 have no doubt—be the same, b u t Icould not well mingle in the same society without ai much money to spend. I did not care so much after ail for sneb things. And, it it was too bard to get a professorship there, why, it would be best for him to come home to my state. And yet New York offered many advantages to our small state. Our people were different thongh; and what Maryland man wonld join in a alander, much less refuse Pro fessor Melville a situition on account of that something and not tell him what it was and who was his accuser. I s tlast made up my mind to write to him tbe first thing in tbe morning and tell him to come to Maryland. I then dismissed the subject and slept. The next morniug at breakfast I read Professor's letter to papa and to ^ him my determination. He approve*! of it and was veiy indiguant at what be called “tbe cowardly conduct of those presi dents and trustees of schools, who pre tended to have something and could not tell him what.'' “1 will get my h at and go to the ela tion with^ou,” 1 said; “I Lave my letter to mail.” As we 'walked down tbe bill, I said: “Papa, for how many months did you rent Rose Cottage ?’’ “Three; in two weeks it will be the first of September and we will have to go to the city.” “Why should we do that? I like it here, and so do you; and it is too so conveniently by rail everywhere.’’ “Well,” paps said, “I do not think the Cottage wonld do as a 'winter resi dence, it is too open; and if the profes sor comes it will be rather small for a regular family life. But if you say so 1 will take it b y tbe year.” “No, du not do that. I think I will look for a better honse. On this same road, standing back in a pretty enclosed lawn, is a double cottage for rent. You have seen it; Bellevue is its name. I think I will inquire about it to-day.” My father said he remembered the house on the opposite hill, just as near tbe station, and he thonght it would do. He liked the country and would remain if we did. CHAPTER VL AITOGXTHBR BUBAl- Beatns ills qul procul oesctlla. Vt pnsaa gens mortallum, etc. —iiouoe Odea Happy tne man who, tar troai puoilc strUe, Bajoys the calm ooaieLt of rural life: ..... .— -— ------------pj gam, Department.)” .reasury When we reached the station the b ^ - gage master came to me smilingly and “ We have a present here for you; from yonr husband 1 reckon.” I laughed: “What kind of a present?’' He led the way to the express office, and in a large box was a magnificent dog, a Newfoundland. He bad on a silver collar with “Rover” I am generally afrmd of dogs and do not like them—tbe small dogs especially. But this one looked so kind and wagged his tail so eagerly to be I t out o f his narrow praun (hat 1 asked for a string to tie to bis collar to lead him home. And when a piece of rope was found and the man tied it for me, the slats were taken out of the box, and o ut he walked. Peo ple who had crowded around fell back a little, and my father exclaimed: “He IB an immense dog! I hope he is not ferocious.” 1 patted him on tbe neck and called to him by name to follow me. He stalked by my ride as if he had known me all hie life. When I reached home 1 shot him up in a large chicken house that was not need, and then got some food for him. 1 was much pleased over my present; and although my husband bad n ot said anytLing in bis letters about eendiug me a dog, yet 1 felt be bad sent him, as be bad often expressed a fear about my rambles alone. That same day 1 took Rover and we looked u p the landlord oi Bellevue Cot tage. 1 found tbe rent was very little more—if we took it by tbe year—than our small box of a house was by tbe uum- mer; and, after a visit over it with tbe landlord, 1 concluded to take it from tbe first of September. 1 had now plenty to fill my time and amuse me. It would be tb» first time since my marriage that 1 would house- keep, have a home of our own. I never ' reflected then if my husband did not have a silnation, thete would be no need of a house if he had nothing to keep it. I went to work joyously to have it fixed for his coming. I wonld run in to Baltimore almost every day to order something for the house—a matting, a carpet, or curtains. Then a new bed-room set for our room, and a library set another day. Some more china and glais, a mirror or a vase. Whaf, with tbe new furniture and that webadatRose Cottag^^ acdoor united books and pictures, and my silver, and beautiful china that I had as wedding presents,'buffiarge and cemmodions cot tage was a beautiful home by the first of September. The lawn had been mowed, tbe garden bad been cleared of weeds; and soma late fall and winter vegetables planted. The stable and chicken yard had been ^ repaired and whitewashed. Tbe new place bad an abundance of fruit Just at tb^t Season the grapes, pears and apples were getting ripe. Both papa and myself were delighted, and settled down to r ^ l home life. No idea of soon moving to trouble us. Rover bad attached bimseif to me and was the greatest company on my walks. I now only wished softie chickens for the empty houses, and a nice cow for tbe 1 thought of a pony and a phaeton, but I reflected I must be economical, and a pony requires to much care: I will have a Jersey cow. Then we will have all tbe milk, cream and butter we wish. I asked papa the second morniug after we had moved to tell me how to choose a oow. He said he would do his best, but it generally took more than a mere tell ing to choose any domestic snimaL Still be gave me some valuable points; and Rover and X went ss early as possible in the day to see if we could not get one. An old fanner lived nearly a mile away down in the valley. I had been there several times to buy thingefor tbe house. He had an eztenrive and rich farm with a large number of cows—all pure Jerseys. The walk was a beautiful one, and es pecially now that September bad lined the footpath through the meadows and by tbe rivershore with golden rod, the crimson and purple iris. Beyond tbe com wss just ripening and whole fields waved their tops like so many plumee in tbe soft September breeze. Rover and I sped light-footed through tbe valley, up a broad hill-road at tbe farmer’s back door, where we found him wasbiug his hands at an old-fashioned well-trough. Farmer Hutton was one of the old type of fanners. He was a plain, uneducated man, but good-hearted and generous; quaint in his speech and actions. I liked him and be liked me; Z felt it. He smiled as we came up to him. A dry, shrewd smile: “ What kin I do for you, young lady?’’ he grid after we had exchanged saluta- “I want a cow; a young cow, a gentle oow and a pretty oow, that will 'give plenty of milk.” “Ob, lor! that is too much to ask in any one critter.” And we langhed. “Have you not a cow for sale that would suit me, farmer?” “Wall, I have a cow.” And he took a- quid ol tobacco from his mouth a t ^ put it into bis p o cket: “But I dunno if it will soil your fin icky notions.” Be led tbe way to a field near by where a fine herd -were grazing. He called to tbe gate by name a young Jersey cow, a perfect beauty. “This here cow is not a real Jersey, bnt part Ayrshire, and for that reason I will mske a ba^ain with yon. She is young and so far a good milker.” I put my band through the gate and patted her velvet ears. She was so gen tle. Her name, too, was pretty—Blos- “Now,” said the old farmer, “I don’t want to sell you a cow that you might not like after you get her borne. Sup pose yon let me send her to yon for a lit tle while to try her; and then we will make a bargain.” I liked tbe looks of tbe cow, and thought that was fair, and be agreed to send ber that evening by bis two little boya ’Thev were peeping behind tbe barn at ns—barefooted andragged-hatted —but independent as lords of tbe land abould be. I made a bargain about some chickens at tbe same time; and then Rover and 1 sauntered homewsrds gathering tbe bright flowers on tbe way. [ to BI COHTISriD.J Workingmeu subscribe for tbe C larion it is yonr paper. It is devoted to your Interest, and you should support it. POWDEBLY ON THIS RICHMOND CONVENTIO.V. A Herald correspoudent has bad an interview with Oeneral Master Workman Powderly of the Knights of Labor on tbe &-.ming convention at Richmond, Vt. Mr. Powderiy said: I have no heritation in saying that this will be the largest convention representing tbe interests of labor that has ever been calie J together in any p jrt of the civilized world in an cient or modern times. We will have 1000 or more representatives at that con- veutioD, reptesentiug directly a conRtitu- eney of 1,000,000 workers, while those who we behind in their dues or not in good standing or for other causes, will not fall short of bait a million more. Every grade of industry and many of the professions »iil be represented on tbe floor of that convention ; the humblest day laborer and the college graduate will be found seated side by side. The ideas which men will bring from Cahfornia in the west, Louisiana in tbe south, Ma:ne in the east and Canada in the north, will be exchanged, and when those people separate to return to their homes they will carry with them a more intimate kuowledge of tbe tastes, mauners, cus toms, habits and wants of each other than they ever had before. The anarchist element has no influence whatever over the Knights of Labor, and never will have. Anarchy means des truction of law and order—the breaking of social ties and fabrics. Our organizs- tfon aims at maintaining tne law and cw- der and believes in substituting good laws for bad ones, and estabiisbing more firmly, tbe social and political ties which bind .our people to each other. At tbe Cleveland convention we placed a check OD boycotts and strikes—so much so that few have occurred since then. No sooner did ODT order place its stroog hand on tbe strike and bovcot't than the employ ers of.labor began to strike and boycott. Over 200 lockouts have occurred rince the employers got the idea that members of our organization could not strike with out violatiug tbe laws of tbe order. 1 have always opposed strikes. 1 always will, except as a last resort; but tbe ac tion of some employers of labor since the Clevelaud'convention has made it abso lutely necessary for us to take some ac tion to protect onr own members. With regard to politics Mr. Powderiy said: Our organization believes In t b e judicious Qse of tbe ballot, and the dis- cussioos which take place in our assem blies concerning tbe laws of tbe country are in the direction of teaching the citi zen ids duty. The million men who are in the Knights of Labor are to-day studying tbe science of government. They, in turn, -will be teachers of other millions, and if the parties of to-day do not heed tbe hand-writingon tbe wall, and make American laws foi tbe Ameri can people, tbe milhons so instructed can form a patty that will do so. KNIGHTS IN POLITICS. In bis recent speech before the letter- carriers of New York city. General Mas ter Workman Powderiy sp<ke thus: You say the Knights of Labor do not meddle in politics. We are not intbe babit of standing at a rum door asking for votes, or of voting for this man or that man be cause he is a good fellow. But in the sense of demanding good government by good men, hrespeotive of party, you may count on the Knights of Labor being in politics first, last and all the time. We mean to mark statesmen. That oue who thinks vested rights of preperty stand before the natural rights of man must go. There ore others who fail to come up to the demands of ad vanced statesmamhip, and they will find that we are American citizens, and that while we are not party men we are poli ticians in the new sense of the world. In Milwaukee, Wis., one of Atkins & Ogden's sub-contractors engaged a man at $16 per week. He had been working for Page & Co. at $12 per week, b ut Page & Co. were idle. He took his k it of tools and reported at Atkina A Ogden’s, when Mr. Atkins himself informed him that he could not work there, as Mr. Page bad forbidden it, and it was a rule that no employer should hire another’s men. The K. of L. immediately struck the shop, all hands quitting work at once, and the re • suit was that tbe m 'is now working for Atkins A Ogden at 116 per week. So much for what orgai zatlos can do.
