The boss had all but agreed to take him on for some sort of unskilled labor, when, struck by the cadaverous look of the man, he told him to bare his arm. Up went the sleeve of his coat and his ragged flannel shirt, exposing a naked arm with the muscles nearly gone, and the blue-white transparent skin stretched over sinews and the outline of the bones. Pitiful beyond words were his efforts to give a semblance of strength to the biceps which rose faintly to the upward movement of the forearm. But the boss sent him off with an oath and a contemptuous laugh, and I watched the fellow as he turned down the street, facing the fact of his starving family with a despair at his heart which only mortal man can feel and no mortal tongue can speak. The Bread Line BY BERTON BRALEY (Contemporary American poet) Well, here they are--they stand and stamp and shiver Waiting their food from some kind stranger hand, Their weary limbs with eagerness a-quiver Hungry and heartsick in a bounteous land. "Beggars and bums?" Perhaps, and largely worthless. Shaky with drink, unlovely, craven, low, With obscene tongues and hollow laughter mirthless; But who shall give them scorn for being so? Yes, here they are--with gaunt and pallid faces, With limbs ill-clad and fingers stiff and blued, Shuffling and stamping on their pavement places, Waiting and watching for their bit of food. We boast of vast achievements and of power, Of human progress knowing no defeat, Of strange new marvels every day and hour-- And here's the bread line in the wintry street! Ten thousand years of war and peace and glory, Of hope and work and deeds and golden schemes, Of mighty voices raised in song and story, Of huge inventions and of splendid dreams; Ten thousand years replete with every wonder, Of empires risen and of empires dead; Yet still, while wasters roll in swollen plunder, These broken men must stand in line--for bread! The Unemployed Problem (_From "Past and Present"_) BY THOMAS CARLYLE (See pages 31, 74) And truly this first practical form of the Sphinx-question, inarticulately and so audibly put there, is one of the most impressive ever asked in the world. "Behold us here, so many thousands, millions, and increasing at the rate of fifty every hour. We are right willing and able to work; and on the Planet Earth is plenty of work and wages for a million times as many. We ask, If you mean to lead us towards work; to try to lead us,--by ways new, never yet heard of till this new unheard-of Time? Or if you declare that you cannot lead us? And expect that we are to remain quietly unled, and in a composed manner perish of starvation? What is it you expect of us? What is it you mean to do with us?" This question, I say, has been put in the hearing of all Britain; and will be again put, and ever again, till some answer be given it. An Answer