Thus the political economist who stops at figures and considers any further dealing with the question unnecessary. And if the law were of stringent application; if parents told the truth as to age, and if the two inspectors who are supposed to suffice for the thousands of factories in the State of New York were multiplied by fifty, there might be some chance of carrying out the provisions of this law. As it is, it is a mere form of words, evaded daily; a bit of legislation which, like much else bearing with it apparent benefit, proves when analyzed to be not much more than sham. The law applies to factories only. It does not touch mercantile establishments or trades that are carried on in tenement-houses, and it is with these two latter forms of labor that we deal to-day. In factory labor in the city of New York nine thousand children under twelve years of age are doing their part toward swelling the accumulation of wealth, each adding their tiny contribution to the great stream of what we call the prosperity of the nineteenth century. Thus far their share in the trades we have considered has been ignored. Let us see in what fashion they make part of the system. For a large proportion of the women visited, among whom all forms of the clothing industry were the occupation, children under ten, and more often from four to eight, were valuable assistants. In a small room on Hester Street, a woman on work on overalls--for the making of which she received one dollar a dozen--said:-- "I couldn't do as well if it wasn't for Jinny and Mame there. Mame has learned to sew on buttons first-rate, and Jinny is doing almost as well. I'm alone to-day, but most days three of us sew together here, and Jinny keeps right along. We'll do better yet when Mame gets a bit older." As she spoke the door opened and a woman with an enormous bundle of overalls entered and sat down on the nearest chair with a gasp. "Them stairs is killin'," she said. "It's lucky I've not to climb 'em often." Something crept forward as the bundle slid to the floor, and busied itself with the string that bound it. "Here you, Jinny," said the woman, "don't you be foolin'. What do you want anyhow?" The something shook back a mat of thick hair and rose to its feet,--a tiny child who in size seemed no more than three, but whose countenance indicated the experience of three hundred. "It's the string I want," the small voice said. "Me an' Mame was goin' to play with it." "There's small time for play," said the mother; "there'll be two pair more in a minute or two, an' you're to see how Mame does one an' do it good too, or I'll find out why not."