IN THE FACTORY 154 CROWDS OF MEN STREAMING FROM EVERY DOOR AND PRESSING SWIFTLY THROUGH THE GATE 160 THE NOON HOUR 164 MRS. SCHULZ’S BOARDING-HOUSE 168 NEVER ONCE DID I FAIL OF A FRIENDLY GREETING 196 HE HATED KINGS AND POTENTATES AND ALL GOVERNMENTAL AUTHORITY 214 THE SOCIALIST MEETING 222 THERE WAS NOTHING IN THE DOMESTIC SCENE WHICH MET US TO SUGGEST THE HOME OF A REVOLUTIONARY 232 AN EVASION OF THE FACTORY SYSTEM OF PRODUCTION 236 RETURNING WORK FROM SWEAT SHOPS 240 “DON’T TALK TO US ABOUT DISEASE; IT’S _BREAD_ WE’RE AFTER, _BREAD_!” 246 IT WAS A WELL-FED CROWD WHICH SAT SMOKING FOR A QUARTER OF AN HOUR OR MORE ON THE ROUGH EMBANKMENTS, OVERLOOKING THE AGRICULTURAL BUILDING BEFORE GOING BACK TO WORK 256 THE FOURTH OF JULY--“TWO TOWNSHIPS WERE TO PLAY EACH OTHER” 318 PRICE COULD SPEAK THEIR LANGUAGE, AND NOW AND THEN ONE JOINED US IN CAMP 370 THE WORKERS CHAPTER I THE ARMY OF THE UNEMPLOYED ROOMS OF THE YOUNG MEN’S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION, CHICAGO, ILL. Saturday Evening, December 5, 1891. A new phase of my experiment is begun. Hitherto I have been in the open country, and have found work with surprising readiness. Now I am in the heart of a congested labor market, and I am learning, by experience, what it is to look for work and fail to find it; to renew the search under the spur of hunger and cold, and of the animal instinct of self-preservation until any employment, no matter how low in the scale of work, that would yield food and shelter, appears to you the very Kingdom of Heaven; and if it could suffer violence, it would seem as though the strength of your desire must take that kingdom by force. But it remains impregnable to your attack, and, baffled and weakened, you are thrust back upon yourself and held down remorselessly to the cold, naked fact that you, who in all the universe are of supremest importance to yourself, are yet of no importance to the universe. You are a superfluous human being. For you there is no part in the play of the world’s activity. There remains for you simply this alternative: Have you the physical and moral qualities which fit you to survive, and which will place you at last within the working of the large scheme of things, or, lacking these qualities, does there await you inevitable wreck under the onward rush of the world’s great moving life?