Emmerich Manual High School - Ivian Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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MIND AND HAND. 11 A MEDAL OF HONOR. FOR five weeks the men at the Stanford factory had been idle. They had struck for higher wages and had sworn among themselves not to go back to work until their demands had been granted. For five weeks Mr. Stanford had refused the raise, and as he was a very obstinate man it would probably be a long time be- fore he would comply with their demands. He owned that factory, he said, and he would pay the wages he thought necessary, and if the employes were dissatisfied they were at liberty to go elsewhere, as there were plenty of men who would gladly work for a dollar a day. Day after day the men gathered about the factory door expecting to see a notice to resume work, and day after day they had been disappointed and returned to their families empty-handed. Mr. Stanford was too proud to be dictated to by a set of ignorant laborers. By this time most of the men would gladly have given up and gone back under the old pay, but they were restrained from doing so by the fiery speeches and denun- ciations of one of their number, Sam Maguire. It was Friday night, and a cold, piercing wind blew over the little town of starving laborers. The streets were all deserted save for one solitary pedestrian, who was plodding along with his head down. He hurried on until he reached the home of Mr. Stanford. He was admitted, and a light was seen in the study. The light burned steadily until after midnight ; then the mysterious figure came out into the darkness and hurried down the street. The next day the men were seen crowd- ing about the factory door reading the fol- lowing notice : Mr. Stanford has learned the truth of the case in an interview with a certain gentleman, and has decided to withdraw his objections to the requests of his employes. The employes will resume work on the following Monday at the wages desired. In an instant all their auger and despair was turned to joy, and with shouts and laughter they rushed to Mr. Stanford ' s home and stood half the day cheering their employer. Many inquiries were made for the gen- tleman who had braved Mr. Stanford ' s auger for their sake, but they were all in vain. At the end of the first week each man contributed a small sum and a silver medal was given to Mr. Stanford with the instructions that the mysterious gentleman should wear it as a token of their grati- tude. The medal bore the words : To a Gentleman. From His Friends. Two years had elapsed since the strike. It was the noon hour, and the men were sitting in a circle telling stories and joking. Here comes Larry, said one. Let ' s get him to tell us a story. I bet he ' ll tell about the time he saw Queen Victoria crowned, growled another. I know I ' ve heard that story fifty times if I ' ve heard it once. Let ' s see if he does. A little old man tottered up and took his seat in the circle of men. Telling stories, gentlemen? Don ' t let me disturb you. We ' ve all run out of lies, Larry. You tell us some of yours, said one young fellow. I never tell lies, my young man, Larry answered gravely ; but I will tell you — let me see — suppose I tell you about the coronation of the Queen? The men exchanged quick glances and could hardly suppress their mirth.

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MIND AND HAND. 13 Then he told that same old story, prais- ing the Queen and the nobility. He said he was one of the English nobility, and gave a minute description of the family estate in England. He seemed to forget the circle of red- shirted men, and the low, dirty factory, and the long, monotonous rows of black, greasy machines. He was roaming once again in the green parks of his old English home, and his gray eyes lighted with pride, and his thin, delicate hands shook with excitement as he told of the ancient glory of his family. He ceased, and for several seconds the men smoked on in silence. Then Sam Ma- guire broke out, his face red with anger: What do you stay in this measly, good-for-nothing country for, any way, if England is so much better? Why don ' t you go back and live off your dukes and earls, instead o ' stayin ' here an ' workin ' an ' takin ' the bread out o ' the mouth o ' some pore cuss that needs it worse ' n you do ? Larry arose, full of dignity. I will return to my native land, sir, as soon as my father ' s estate is settled. Then I shall be able to live as one of the English nobility should live. The group watched him in silence a9 he walked away. I don ' t believe he ' s a nobleman no more ' n I am. He ' s nothin ' but an ol ' humbug, said one. I tell you what we ' ll do, cried Sam. Let ' s write a letter savin ' that his father ' s estate has all fell to him. I ' ll send the let- ter to him through the mail, an ' we ' ll watch him when he gits it. That ' s the way we can tell whether he ' s a nobleman or not. So the letter was written and mailed. The following noon the men gathered at the end of the room to watch Larry. They saw one of the office men come in and hand (3) Larry a letter. They saw him start and eagerly tear it open. His hands shook so that he dropped his glasses twice. The men watched him with guilty faces. They looked more like so many criminals than like practical jokers. Larry unfolded the letter hastily and read it. With a low cry of joy he started from his bench and tottered toward them, feebly waving the letter in the air. Then he saw the guilt and shame written on the faces of the men, and in a flash he under- stood the truth. A pain convulsed his face, and, with a moan, he fell to the floor. The men rushed to him and began rub- bing his hands and fanning him. Quick, boys ! Open his coat and shirt and let him get some air. I didn ' t think he ' d carry on like this, murmured Sam. Sam tore open his shirt and put his hand on Larry ' s heart just in time to feel the last faint flutter, and he felt the last feeble breath on his cheek. His fingers touched something cold and hard which hung around Larry ' s neck. He held it up to the light. It was a small silver medal bearing the words : To a Gentleman. From His Friends. Herbert Moore, 11 A. AN ARCH ENEMY. (H HREE or four yards from me was a L nest, containing young birds, beneath which, in long festoons, lay a huge black snake. What could be more overpower- ingly terrible to an unsuspecting family of birds than the sudden appearance above their home of the head and neck of this arch enemy. I could not but admire his beauty. His black, shining folds ; his easy, gliding movement, head erect, eyes glisten- ing, tongue playing like subtle flame, and his invisible means of locomotion charmed me. Presently his attention was arrested