The Metropolis | Page 6

and loathsome pestilence and raving madness stalked
about in the broad daylight.
And now this army of deliverance, with its waving banners and its
prancing horses and its rumbling cannon, had marched into the
shadow-world. The very ground that it had trod was sacred; and one
who fingered the dusty volumes which held the record of its deeds
would feel a strange awe come upon him, and thrill with a sudden fear
of life--that was so fleeting and so little to be understood. There were
boyhood memories in Montague's mind, of hours of consecration, when
the vision had descended upon him, and he had sat with face hidden in
his hands.
It was for the Republic that these men had suffered; for him and his
children--that a government of the people, by the people, for the people,
might not perish from the earth. And with the organ-music of the
Gettysburg Address echoing within him, the boy laid his soul upon the
altar of his country. They had done so much for him--and now, was
there anything that he could do? A dozen years had passed since then,
and still he knew that deep within him--deeper than all other purposes,
than all thoughts of wealth and fame and power--was the purpose that
the men who had died for the Republic should find him worthy of their
trust.
The singing had stopped, and Judge Ellis was standing before him. The
Judge was about to go, and in his caressing voice he said that he would
hope to see Montague again. Then, seeing that General Prentice was
also standing up, Montague threw off the spell that had gripped him,
and shook hands with the little drummer, and with Selden and
Anderson and all the others of his dream people. A few minutes later he

found himself outside the hotel, drinking deep draughts of the cold
November air.
Major Thorne had come out with them; and learning that the General's
route lay uptown, he offered to walk with Montague to his hotel.
They set out, and then Montague told the Major about the figure in the
grape-vine, and the Major laughed and told how it had felt. There had
been more adventures, it seemed; while he was hunting a horse he had
come upon two mules loaded with ammunition and entangled with their
harness about a tree; he had rushed up to seize them--when a solid shot
had struck the tree and exploded the ammunition and blown the mules
to fragments. And then there was the story of the charge late in the
night, which had recovered the lost ground, and kept Stonewall Jackson
busy up to the very hour of his tragic death. And there was the story of
Andersonville, and the escape from prison. Montague could have
walked the streets all night, exchanging these war-time reminiscences
with the Major.
Absorbed in their talk, they came to an avenue given up to the poorer
class of people; with elevated trains rattling by overhead, and rows of
little shops along it. Montague noticed a dense crowd on one of the
corners, land asked what it meant.
"Some sort of a meeting," said the Major.
They came nearer, and saw a torch, with a man standing near it, above
the heads of the crowd.
"It looks like a political meeting," said Montague, "but it can't be,
now--just after election."
"Probably it's a Socialist," said the Major. "They're at it all the time."
They crossed the avenue, and then they could see plainly. The man was
lean and hungry-looking, and he had long arms, which he waved with
prodigious violence. He was in a frenzy of excitement, pacing this way
and that, and leaning over the throng packed about him. Because of a
passing train the two could not hear a sound.
"A Socialist!" exclaimed Montague, wonderingly. "What do they
want?"
"I'm not sure," said the other. "They want to overthrow the
government."
The train passed, and then the man's words came to them: "They force
you to build palaces, and then they put you into tenements! They force

you to spin fine raiment, and then they dress you in rags! They force
you to build jails, and then they lock you up in them! They force you to
make guns, and then they shoot you with them! They own the political
parties, and they name the candidates, and trick you into voting for
them--and they call it the law! They herd you into armies and send you
to shoot your brothers--and they call it order! They take a piece of
coloured rag and call it the flag and teach you to let yourself be
shot--and they call it patriotism! First, last, and all the time, you do the
work and they get the benefit--they, the masters and