Then there was Dormer, who had formerly stood well with the organization; yet he was by no means angelic in disposition or reputation. Nor were Lawler, Monaghan, Kehoe, Dolan, and a dozen others, with whom McKenna had come in contact, at all of the character called saintly. It was easy to see how fair the aims and objects of the original fathers of the society might have been when beginning the movement. It could even be believed that, in some parts of the country, the primal endeavor might yet be in force, but, in the mining districts of Pennsylvania, surely they had long since disappeared from view. Evil had taken up the reins and obtained undisputed sway. Acts of beneficence and charity had been succeeded by scenes of violence and carnage. Wicked-minded and reckless persons were at the helm, and made choice of their kind to fill the ranks. Good men had no chance. A murderer, an assassin, a violent party was sought after and coveted by the divisions, while one of known rectitude of purpose and strict integrity was not wanted, and sure of being rejected were his name by accident proposed. Hence it was well that McKenna took the course he did when first arriving in the coal regions. His jolly, devil-may-care manner, his habit—not really a habit, but an assumption of one—of being nearly always intoxicated, ready and willing to sing, shoot, dance, fight, gamble, face a man in a knock-down or a jig, stay out all night, sleep all day, tell a story, rob a hen-roost or a traveler—just suited those with whom he daily came in contact. Returning to a date preceding McKenna’s induction to Shenandoah Division, let me bring in some of the acts committed by the Mollies and their opponents, forming a kind of introduction to others of wider celebrity, if not of greater magnitude, which it will soon be the chronicler’s duty to narrate.