At four o’clock, after several hours of such wandering, I returned to the main thoroughfare--the market-place--in order to see what it was the hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants found to entertain them. I looked for theaters and found two, one of them a large moving-picture show. Of a sudden, walking in a certain direction my ears were greeted by a most euphonious clatter--so interwoven and blended were the particular sounds which I recognized at once as coming from the feet of a multitude, shod with wooden-soled clogs. Where were they coming from? I saw no crowd. Suddenly, up a side street, coming toward me down a slope I detected a vast throng. The immense moving-picture theater had closed for the afternoon and its entire audience, perhaps two thousand in all, was descending toward the main street. In connection with this crowd, as with the other at Boulton, I noted the phenomenon of the black or white straw hat, the black or brown shawl, the shapeless skirts and wooden-soled clogs of the women; the dull, commonplace suit and wooden clogs of the men. Where were they going now? Home, of course. These must be a portion of the strikers. They looked to me like typical mill-workers out on a holiday and their faces had a waxy pallor. I liked the sound of their shoes, though, as they came along. It was like the rattle of many drums. They might have been waltzing on a wooden floor. The thing had a swing and a rhythm of its own. “What if a marching army were shod with wooden shoes!” I thought; and then, “What if a mob with guns and swords came clattering so!” A crowd like this is like a flood of water pouring downhill. They came into the dark main street and it was quite brisk for a time with their presence. Then they melted away into the totality of the stream, as rivers do into the sea, and things were as they had been before. If there were any restaurants other than the “Kafe” Monico, I did not find them. For entertainment I suppose those who are not religiously minded do as they do in Fall River and elsewhere--walk up and down past the bright shop windows or sit and drink in the public houses, which are unquestionably far more cheerful by night than by day.