The Nine-Tenths

orn as on a cliff above the city-one sees, at seven of a sharp morning, a low-hung sun in the eastern skies, a vast circle and lift of mild blue heavens, and at on

y skylight, every point of glass or metal on the roofs, flashes in the sun, and, gazing down from that corner in the sky, one sees the visible morning hymn of the city-a drift from thousands of house chimneys of delicate unraveling skeins of white-blue smoke lifting from those human

wed, that he was, in fact, so real to himself that the rest of the city was rather shadowy and unreal, and that he was immensely concerned in a thousand-flashing torrent of thoughts, in a mix-up of appetite and

by deciding to smoke lots of cigars, and proceeded to light one as a beginning. He smoked one, then a

at wallpaper, with paint and furniture. Even the dark inner bedrooms contrived to look cozy and warm and inviting. Joe's mother was a true New England housekeeper, whic

laughed, "and you'll ruin

lated not only these, but the floor, the two tables, the roll-top desk, and here and there a chair. White paper began to heap up in the corners. Magazi

-personality. There was something open, hospitabl

n the corner like a many-bladed penknife. He was thin and cadaverous, and spoke in a meek and melancholy voice, studied and slow. He dressed in black and tried to sup

id down two thousand cash and was to pay two thousand a year and interest. So Joe could figure his income at somewhat over six thousand dollars, and, as he h

ession-the joy of throwing out his thought and getting its immediate reaction in other lives. Yet he understood perfectly the man who seemed shy and recluse, who was choked-off before strangers, and who yet burned to be a democrat, to give and take, to share alien lives, to be of the moving throng of life. Such a man was the victim either of a wrong education, an education of repression that

ple, idlers, roomers and landlady in the house accepted him at once and felt as if they had known him all th

ker. It was that natural revulsion of the idealist following the first glow. Here he was, up against a reality, and yet with no definite plan, not even a name for his paper, and he had not even begun to penetrate the life about him. The throbbing momen

and Joe was standing in the shadow-land between two lives. The old life was receding in the past; the new life had not yet appeared. Without training, without experience, without definite knowledge of the need to be met, with only

rbing details, their human companionships, and had an almost irrepressible desire to rush out, take the elevated train, go down East Eighty-first Street, ascend the elevator, ring the bell, and enter his dominion of trembling, thundering presses. H

he rose hastily and went out and wandered about the shabby, unfriendly neighborhood. He had a mad desire, almost realized, to take the car straight to Eighty-first St

en he surrendered. He s

isn't there somethin

what

I'm half dead." He laughed strangely.

ed at him sharply.

s in-bet

. "Well, there's so

k Hea

jewels and silver, with silks and knick-knacks. The immense and rich plenty of earth, the products of factories and mills, were lavishly poured here, gathered in isles, about which a swarming sea of well-dressed women pushed and crowded. The high ceilings were hung with glowing moons of light; the atmosphere was magic with confused talk, shu

hat whirlpool of theaters released its matinee crowd

alth and idleness. Evidently a large population had nothing to do save shop and motor, eat and idle. How c

d him. He said as

riant. These people are the power of the city-the migh

d then the strug

there any place where we

p wintry air in the closing sunlight, what time the blue electric lights gleamed out among the almost naked boughs, the six-o'clock whistles began blowing from factories all about them-a glad shriek that jumped from street to street over the city-and at once across the eastern plaza of th

lutched, as it were, in a vise. He felt the strange, strong, human grip

whispered, in

is the real

hen a

only a fraction-th

ood surging to his cheeks,

ople and their captains, their teachers and interpreters, rested the burdens of civilization; that the mighty city was wrought by their hands and those who dreamed with them, that the foam and sparkle of Broadway and Fifth Avenue bubbled up from that strong liquor beneath. And he believed that the second-generation idlers had somehow expropriated the toilers and were living like drones in the hive, and he felt that this could not be forever, and he was se

d their work cut out for them-the most st

all who could. Then he, too, could do his share; he, too, could reach this crowd. And these people-they were reachable. No theaters and restaurants competed

eturned

ng, "it's all right. Now I'm ready

ome book on socialism or some sociological study, kept haunting his mind. The new power released in him made his br

ed. "Why not call my

oo

aloud as the quic

g for betterment-a concrete statement of where the world stands to-day and what it is doing. But a fair sheet, mother. No railing, no bitterness, no bomb-throwing. Plenty of horse sense, plenty of banking the fires, of delaying wisely. No setting class against class. No under-rating of leaders and captains. Justice, bu

ther, "you'll see things

l be ch

eady miles ahead. "Mother,

e laughed, ent

s a whoppe

e? That would su

ey're influenced by their advertising-that's their bread and butter. And even if they're not influenced, people suspect they are. We must be free even of that suspicion. We c

ther l

s worth trying. But how are you

ople round about, spread it any old way. And I'm going to start with the idea of a big future-twenty thousand copies finally. You see, it'll b

talled in the basement. Then he had the basement wired, and got an electric motor to furnish the power. John Rann and his family were moved down to a flat farther west on Tenth Street, and a feeder, a compositor, and a make-up man were hired along wit

a bindery to bind, fold, bundle, and address the papers; and wit

them that all they would have to do was to deliver the papers to the addr

scriptions (one dollar a year or twenty-five cents a quart

l. There was an editorial, "Greetings to You," in which Joe set forth in plain words the ideas and ideals of the paper, and in which he made clear the meaning of the phrase "nine-tenths." Then he found that there were two great strikes in progress in the city. This amazed him, as there was no visible sign of such a c

lled on some of the cloak-makers' bosses and learned their grievances. Then he wrote acco

printing that poem by Lowell which was his mother

slaves who

ht with tw

hodge-podge o

itorial page he ran the fo

INE-T

ABOUT MEN, WOM

*

M

LARGELY, BUT

*

DETAILS NOT

vents a child fro

filling its

events a woman o

ide of her o

SE DETAIL

S WANT OVERWO

alousy, quarrels,

of the mosq

what a glor

anted to be definite and simple, and he wan

ack in strips of type, it was hurried down to the idlers in the basement. At ten-thirty that chilly, dust-blowing morning, when the

his mother,

el the press

-the vision was beginning to

, mother!" he cried. "T

re a new-born child, as indeed it was, wet, drippy, forlorn, and weird, and yet a wonder and a miracle. Joe looked on his

py to Myra wit

's the answer t

closed, and doin

ow the neighborho

abby, shoddy, co

as happy as child

lendid. I am sure

n are you retur

e

BL

I have something to