We are all indicted and must stand our trial. There rests upon us the obligation to ascertain the facts. The author of "The Jungle" lived in Packingtown for months, and the eminently respectable publishers who are now issuing the book sent a shrewd lawyer to Chicago to report as to whether the statements in it were exaggerated, and his report confirmed the assertions of the author. This book is a call to immediate action. The Lithuanian hero found his solution of the problems suggested in Socialism. The solution lies either in that direction or in something better, and it behooves those who warn us against Socialistic experiments to tell us if they know of any other effective remedy. Surely all thoughtful men should study these theories of social redemption and learn why their advocates claim that putting them in practice would modify or abolish the evils of our modern conditions. "The masters, lords and rulers of all lands," the thinkers and workers of our time must speedily give themselves to the understanding and application of some adequate remedy, or there will be blood, woe and tears almost without end, "when this dumb terror shall reply to God, after the silence of the centuries." FOOTNOTE: [2] Genuine or not genuine: we live right now in a democracy. If, in spite of that, such diabolical crimes as Sinclair describes them are committed daily, then this only proves that democracy is no panacea for them. Why should it, if criminals of the Armour kind realize profits out of their wholesale poisoning of such dimensions that they can easily buy all the glory of the people's sovereignty.--Editor. THE GAME IS UP. By SADAKICHI HARTMANN. "HELLO, Morrison, may I come in?" The door stood slightly ajar. Morrison came to the door--the complexion of his face was sallow and his eyes had a peculiar look--he recognized his visitor, hesitated for a moment whether he should admit him, then opened the door and made a sort of mock courtesy. "Cleaning up?" the tall, lean man asked as he entered the little hall room. "Yes," and a wistful smile glided over Morrison's pale face; "cleaning up for good." The room had a peculiar appearance. There was no disorder and yet a lot of things were lying about; it looked as if the lodger intended to go away on a long journey and had tried to straighten up matters previous to his departure. The visitor gazed curiously about the room. He had a strange foreboding, but forced himself to ask in a jocular mood: "Going to Egypt again?" "Farther than that this time, but it won't take so long; the journey I am contemplating will be over by to-morrow evening, I hope." "What do you mean?" "The game is up."