I have heard Aunt Jennie arguing the matter with considerable
energy. Our banks are housed in palaces, and our Chamber of Commerce
and our Merchants and Manufacturers and our Real Estate Exchange and
all the rest of our boosters have commodious and expensive quarters;
but our prisoners lie in torment, and no one boosts for them.
Did Carpenter know these things? Had the strikers or his little
company of agitators, told him about them? Suddenly he said, "Let us
pray;" and there on the steps of the jail he raised his hands in
invocation, and prayed for all prisoners and captives. And when he
finished, Comrade Abell suddenly lifted his voice and began to sing.
I would not have supposed that so big a voice could have come out of
so frail a body; but I was reminded that Abell had been practicing
on soap-boxes a good part of his life. He was one of these shouting
evangelists--only his gospel was different. He sang:
Arise, ye pris'ners of starvation!
Arise, ye wretched of the earth!
For justice thunders condemnation,
A better world's in birth.
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