While the political economist knits his brows in perplexity over the immoderate increase of cotton mills in the Southern States, and the social reformer cries vehemently against their child labor and low adult wages, these problems are solving themselves by natural processes which man’s economics or sociological theories can neither hurry nor retard. Cotton manufacturing has traversed the road to its base of supply, and can no more be severed from it again than the descending rivulet can turn and run up hill. Child labor is only a complicated error of new conditions, and will in due process fall to inevitable decay. The wage problem mutates everywhere, yet optimism assures us that it bears steadily towards solution. But the mill people of the South are a new and picturesque labor class. Some glimpses of their homes and family life will, we believe, afford interest to the reader for entertainment as well as to the student of sociology. * * * * * There are points of distinct difference between the factory operatives of the South and those of any other section of our country or of Europe. In the first place, there are no urban instincts in these Southern mill communities. Whatever virtues they lack at least they have not the vices of cities. The good and the evil in them are still such as belong to a strictly rural people. But no one must expect, after another decade and a half, to find the same thing true; for, with the passing of the present generation, this unique characteristic must of necessity be largely lost. Gregariousness of living is potent to efface such a mark even when deeply stamped. It may be asked, What are the indications of this quality which, for want of a better name, is termed rusticity? The signs are many and easy to read. No observant person can miss the plain evidence even in his first day with the mill people. He walks past the cottages, row on row, and sees prince’s feather and bachelor’s button growing in the tiny yards, patchwork quilts sunning from the windows, and strings of red pepper festooned on the back porches. The boys are quite often chewing tobacco, but they are not smoking cigarettes. Often, alas! the girls dip snuff, but they do not lace in their waists, nor attempt handkerchief flirtations. The women are given to quiet, and a profound reserve usually marks their social intercourse. The festive gatherings in the entertainment halls on Saturday nights are either stiff parties or genuine country dances. The “barbecue” is common on a general holiday and the “all day singing” of a Sunday still remains the acme of enjoyment, affording the perfect blending of sociality and devotion.