I

Twelve thousand strikers in the Blue Island avenue manufacturing dis- trict stretched themselves out on the

grass near Clark Brothers' large planing mill and furniture factory at 1 o'clock yesterday afternoon. They were lumber shovers, molders, planing mill men, and boxmakers. Nearly all were foreigners, and many wore bits of red ribbon on the lappels of their coats. At 2 o'clock a man, coatless and hatless, climbed upon an empty freight car standing near the multitude. He stepped to the edge of the roof and then waved his hands about his head. "Stand firm," he shouted in German. "Let every man stand shoulder to shoulder and we will win this fight. We must have our rights. Strike while the iron is hot. Drive the 'scabs' out of the yards and let us show McCormick that he cannot hire non-union men and keep them at work while we, the bone and sinew of Chicago, are forced to have our wives and our children crying for bread. Arm yourselves and prepare for the worst."

Deafening cheers greeted each sentence of the speaker's harangue. The thousands surged nearer the car upon which the hatless man stood and detached it from the train. As they did so a youth in a hickory shirt hurled a stone at one of the proprietors of the Hinglington planing mill who had thrust his head out of the window to learn the cause of the uproar. The multitude needed no other signal. Within three seconds 1,000 men burst into the yard of the company and swarmed around the building from which the head had protruded. A storm of stones and brick beat upon the roof, and the windows were demolished as if by an earthquake. This work of destruction having appeased the anger of the mob, the men returned to the car, from the top of which a member of the Lumber-Shovers' Union was trying to quell the disturbance. "We will win, boys," he shouted. "Stick together; that's all we want to do. One lumber firm has already consented to give its men ten hours' pay for eight hours' work, and before the week is out all of the bosses will give in. I will now introduce to you Mr. Spies, of the Arbeiter Zeitung." The young, fiery editor of the organ of the Anarchists stepped to the edge of the car. Beads of perspiration trickled down his cheeks. The fingers of his right hand grasped a black slouch hat, and in his other hand he held a bundle of Socialistic literature. While in the midst of a virulent attack upon capitalists, the tolling of the bell in the distant tower of the McCormick Reaper Works broke upon the ears of the 12,000 men.

"Now for the scabs," shouted a man with a red handkerchief knotted about his neck.

"Let's drive 'em out of the building and kill 'em,' roared a broad breasted molder as he took after the heels of the man with a red handkerchief.

The excitement was electric. It spread

from man to man in the twinkling of a star, there were cheers from a thousand throats, and then the noise grew into a mighty roar. "Off to McCormicks!" was the cry. Blue Island avenue was choked with hurrying men and boys. They rushed down the cartracks in a resistless body, and swept over the vacant lots in solid phalanxes. The roar grew mightier in volume as the mob poured down upon the huge, gray somber building at Western avenue.. . . "Kill the scabs," roared one of the leaders, as he hurled a bowlder through one of the windows, where a second before a pale face had been pressed.

"Tear down the building," shouted another, who was waving a huge club in his hands. Almost instantly the great factory was subjected to an ominous siege. Stones crashed through the windows and clubs carried away the sash. Nothing escaped the fury of the mob. When the windows of the first three stories had been demolished the storm swept through the gaping orifices.

"Now let us drive out the scabs," roared the man with the red handkerchief knotted about his neck. The mob pressed forward with a yell. Just as it was about to burst into the yard the Hinman street patrol wagon dashed down the dusty road. Twelve officers were in the body of the wagon. . . . The dozen officers stepped toward the 20,000 angry people before them. Each man carried a revolver in his right hand. The mob remained firm. "Disperse or we'll fire," shouted Sergeant Enright. His reply was a shower of stones that whistled unpleasantly about the little band of blue-coats. The officers wavered for a moment before the onslaught, and then leveled their revolvers at the crowd. The barrels of the weapons glistened in the sunlight, there was a flash, and then an explosion followed that startled the horses in the car barns, two blocks away. The first shot of the strike had been fired, but nobody was hurt. The bullets purposely flew over the heads of the strikers and buried themselves in the prairie to the northward.

Another volley was fired by the officers with no more effect. The strikers contested every inch of ground. . . . [The rioters] fired at the officers from ambush, with weapons of all patterns and calibre. Bullets whistled right and left, and off to the southward a half-dozen men on a shed kept up a plunging fire. At times it was a square, stand up fight. Policemen and strikers shot at each other at a distance of twenty paces, yet so defective was the marksmanship of the latter that not an officer was hit. ... Reinforced by the Twelfth street contingent the handful of men from Hinman street raced up the grade to the road. Here they formed in line, twelve abreast, under a desultory fire from windows, roofs, and sheds, and charged east on the street car tracks. The rioters at first made a sullen resistance. They faced the approaching officers and the slender, glittering line of revolver barrels held on a level with their heads as if it was all play. But when the hurrying officers curved the index finger of their right hands, and a streak of fire as long as a telegraph pole flashed through the air there was an exciting hegira and a general go-as-you-please race for cover.... ... Although the rioters had been driven from the McCormick works they still lined Blue Island avenue, from Robey street to Western avenue. . . . Revolvers cracked continually, and occasionally the loud report of a blunderbuss or ancient shotgun loaded with slugs split the air. Four strikers dropped during this charge, two of them being shot through the groin. They were picked up by comrades and borne away before the police could overtake them.... After the streets in the vicinity of the McCormick works had been cleared, the objectionable scabs employed there were marched out into Blue Island avenue and told that they would be escorted to their homes by the police. They were pale and their knees knocked together as they walked. One hundred officers were placed on either side of the "scabs," and in this position they marched toward the city.... As the procession marched east on Blue

Island avenue the walkers were jeered in a most exasperating manner. Women, with bare arms and red handkerchiefs tied about their heads, screamed imprecations from windows; children hid behind chimneys and pelted pebbles and eggs at the objects of their venom, and from time to time bricks and stone were hurled at officers and "scabs" by men secreted in the attics of the many small buildings on the line of march....

During the riot at least five strikers were shot, two fatally. Four officers were slightly injured and Assistant Superintendent C. J. Bemley, of the McCormick works, was hit with a stone in the face and badly hurt.

Chicago Herald 4 May 1886

CHICAGO Daily News, MAY 15, 1886

The police are confident that at last the man who threw the dynamite bomb into the ranks of the police on the night of May 4 is under arrest. Louis Lingg was arrested yesterday forenoon at 80 Ambrose street, in the southwestern part of the city, by a detail of detectives and patrolmen from the East Chicago avenue station.

The morning after the Haymarket riot Lingg moved from 442 Sedgwick street to Ambrose street, where he kept to his room

closely, saying that he was sick. When arrested he made a desperate resistance.... The young anarchist was sitting at the table writing. He seemed to have instantly recognized his abrupt visitor as an officer and grabbed a large Remington revolver which lay upon the table. The officer sprang upon him before Lingg could shoot. The men grappled in a struggle for life, which was so desperate that neither could use his revolver. They rolled upon the floor, first one on top and then the other. Lingg got the officer's thumb in his mouth and bit it almost off. The woman [Lingg's landlady] began to scream. At this instant the policemen on the outside burst open the door and rushed in. Lingg was instantly overpowered and handcuffed. A long and keen dirk knife was found strapped to his waist. The patrol wagon was called and he was removed to the Hinman street station, about half a mile distant, where he was kept until 3 o'clock in the afternoon, when he was taken to the East Chicago avenue station. After his arrival there a large squad of officers were kept in the station and outsiders were locked out of every room except the public office. Capt. Schaack would not see a reporter during the remainder of the day.

Lingg is a young German carpenter who had been rooming at 442 Sedgwick street, on the north side, with a young man named Selliger. On Thursday, May 6, the police visited this room. Lingg was not to be found, and his room-mate, Selliger, said he had not seen him since Wednesday morning and did not know where he was. Selliger was arrested and the room was searched. In Lingg's trunk were found two pistols, two long dynamite bombs, a large lot of shells and cartridges, and a quantity of anarchist pamphlets and newspapers. . . . In the trunk were a large number of letters and pieces of writing in German, which showed that Lingg had been one of the most rabid anarchists in the city, and that he was in correspondence with the leading agitators in this and other cities.

CHICAGO Times , MAY 8, 1886

The socialistic organ [the Arbeiter-Zeitung] was issued yesterday in circular form, and it is at present a reminiscence in every particular. The language is not by any means as violent as it was, and its logic in apologizing for the incarceration of its editors and some of its managers is amusing. In one column it says:

To the Workingmen of Chicago As the entire personnel of the Arbeiter

Ze i tung , from the editors down to the devil in the composing-room, have been arrested, it was impossible to issue a paper day before yesterday and yesterday. Furthermore, after we had yesterday, with much trouble, set up the matter and carried the forms to the printing office, its proprietor, Burgess, refused to print the paper, because The Times, which owns the building in which his printing office is located, threatened to cancel his lease if he dared to print the sheet, and at the same time all other printing offices refused to print it, and among these firms Wehrer & Klein. After running about for four hours we came to the conclusion that there was a conspiracy among the owners of printing offices with the object of thus snuffing out this paper. Twenty-two printers have been arrested and the laughable accusation of murder has been placed against them. Men who were doing nothing but the work for which they were paid. Bail was not accepted for them. It is thus being arranged from all sides systematically to render the issuing of this paper impossible. They do not wish to disturb the impression that this is a free country or they would simply forbid its issue.

You can see, workingmen, from this that the ruling classes have realized the power of a workingmen's paper better than the workingmen themselves have done.

You will have read with deep sorrow in your hearts the triumphant bellowing of Raster and the Freie Presse when this paper did not appear yesterday and its staff was arrested. Now we want to show you that, although a few are under ban

now, the workingmen's party is perhaps for the time being a little troubled, but that it cannot be crushed. We now appeal to you, workingmen of Chicago! You have seen that a workingmen's movement without a workingmen's paper is an impossibility. Each one of you should, therefore, work to this end - that in the circles wherein you move the paper be supported. We have now taken the place of our arrested comrades. Should further arrests take place, then will others step into our places. We shall continue the fight for liberty and right, which this paper ever wages, to the terror of the robbing employers and their deeds, and in their faces we fling our motto, which is "Down with everything that resists us!" and inform them that this sentiment is too deeply rooted in the people to be exterminated by the imprisonment of a few leaders, especially where the movement is of such gigantic dimensions. Forward and unceasingly forward will this movement continue, in spite of all the chicanery of the ruling classes. Force engenders force. The truth of this axiom has been proved by others, and with us it is not going to be a fiasco.

Now, once more, workingmen, do your duty and we will do ours. If for a short time we can only issue our paper in small form we beg our readers to excuse us on account of the circumstances under which we are compelled to work.

We will do all we can to be in a short time again complete....

CHICAGO Inter Ocean, MAY 8, 1886

... The arrest of Rudolph Schauboldt, Schwab's

brother-in-law, might be mentioned in thisconnection. Tuesday night he was one of theprominent figures on the speaker's wagon onDesplaines street. His long, black beard,unkempt hair, and "specs" giving him theunmistakable air of a conspirator, therebyadding to his importance in the eyes of thecowardly curs who were looking upon him.Yesterday Detective Palmer visited the machine-shop at No. 224 Washington street, whereSchauboldt has been working ten hours a dayfor several months, and placed him underarrest. But it was not the figure which stoodbefore the admiring mob Tuesday that theofficer confronted. It was a small sized,smooth shaven man, with closely cut hair,whose sallow cheeks seemed shrunken with care. This bold dynamiter immediately upon his escape from the crowd, visited a barber's shopand had his luxuriant growth of beard and hairremoved in order to disguise his identity.When he was arrested he grew as pale as hissallowness would permit, and when he wasinformed that he would be required to walk tothe Central Police Station his fears knew nobounds. He evidently imagined that a mobwould be in waiting to tear him from theofficer and hang him, as his followers wouldhave done with Officer Casey last Monday night.He was greatly relieved to get within theprecincts of the City Hall in safety. To theofficers who examined him about hisconnection with the riot he stated that heattended the meeting merely as a spectator, but had by request taken a position in thespeaker's stand. He saw the police leave theDesplaines Street Station, watched their maneuvers while they were forming companies,and then waited expectantly for them to marchupon the position of the anarchists. Just afterthe head of the line

passed Randolph street he slipped off the wagon, elbowed his way out of the crowd, and put as much distance between himself and the scene of the meeting as he possibly could....

Parsons is still at large. The police have made every possible effort to find him, have followed every clew, and have visited every one of his known haunts, but he has so far managed to elude their vigilance. Yesterday Officer Duffy went to LaGrange, where it was understood the fugitive anarchist was concealed in the house of a woman who has been a devotee to his principles of blood and thunder. The officer searched the house from cellar to garret, but Parsons could not be found. Other places were searched by other officers, but with the same lack of success. The police do not believe Parsons has left the city. They do not think he could have got away because information was sent everywhere to arrest him and his wife. Mrs. Parsons was found in the city on Wednesday, but was turned loose by the police, because it was thought she might lead detectives to the concealment of her husband. Everywhere she has gone her steps have been dogged by officers.

Every house she has entered has been searched by these same officers, and so the thing will be kept up until Parsons is safe under lock and key. The detectives who have been following Mrs. Parsons have had some funny experiences not only with her but with her anarchistic friends whose abodes they have invaded. She has made every possible effort to throw her "shadows" off the track by dodging into untenanted houses, running through buildings, and walking through back yards, but wherever she goes she finds her Nemesis as inseparaable as if he were tied to her skirts with a rope. The search for Parsons will not be given up for an instant until he is safe behind the bars with his confederates.

CHICAGO Times, MAY 7, 1886

About 5 o'clock a bald-headed, light-complexioned German, about 45 years old,named George Engel, was brought to thestation by an excited number of police. They had arrested the man at No. 286 Milwaukee avenue, and brought with him a queer-shaped portable furnace, made of galvanized iron. The police were all puzzled to find for what use the furnace had been constructed, and the prisoner claimed he knew nothing about it. He said he was a painter, and he thought some tinsmith had put the queerly-constructed furnace in his house for a joke. Engel is one of the leaders of the socialists, and has been concerned in the production of the revolutionary sheet called The Anarchist. He was locked up at the armory station....

George Engel, of No. 286 Milwaukeeavenue, in whose house was found themysterious contrivance resembling a plumber'sfurnace, was released from custody last night. He explained to Supt. Ebersold that about sixmonths ago, while he was absent from home, a stranger left the thing with his wife, saying that it was a machine for the manufacture ofdynamite and that he would call for it in a few days. The stranger never appeared to claim his property, and yesterday, in view ofthe present troubles, Engle went to the West Chicago avenue station and asked the officers to take the queer-looking device away. It was conveyed to the Central station, where it still remains. Supt. Ebersold said that while Engel had socialistic tendencies he was was not an anarchist, and as there was really nothing to be brought against him hewas allowed to go home...

CHICAGO Times, MAY 6, 1886

Those arch counselors of riot, pillage,

incendiarism, and murder, August and Christian Spies, Michael Schwab, and Samuel

Fielden, are now in the hands of the law and secure behind strong iron bars in narrow cells at the Central police station. But one other man composing this galaxy of blood-preaching anarchists is at large. This fiend, who for months past has advocated the torch and dagger, the husband of a negress, and a most arrant coward withal, is named A. R. Parsons. Since his ignominious flight from the scene of blood in Haymarket square on Tuesday night he has not been seen. He may be shot, but it is feared he is not.

The capture of the Spies brothers and Michael Schwab, the owners and editors of the Arbeiter Zeitung, the organ of the anarchists, was effected in the editorial rooms of their office at No. 107 Fifth avenue. At 8:30 o'clock Detectives Costello, Duffy, Wiley, Slayton, Marks, Meyer, and Bonfield entered the office quietly and proceeded to the editorial rooms. There they found the three editors in earnest consultation, reviewing the work done by their followers on Haymarket square. As the officials were clothed in citizens' dress the conspirators did not know them, and for the moment thought they were a committee of some labor organization. They were speedily disabused of this idea by Detective Bonfield, who, in a f irm, clear-spoken tone, asked the fiend nearest to him if his name was not August Spies. Instantly the three fellows sprang to their feet, greatly excited, intuitively feeling that they were face to face with the minions of that law which they, by word and pen, have so frequently violated. With a grimace meant to be a smile, in which a row of white, wolfish teeth were shown, a small, blonde-looking man about 35 years of age answered that he was August Spies, the proprietor of the Arbeiter Zeitung. He tried to look pleasant

and unconcerned, and in his blandest tones asked what he could do for his visitors.

"Get yourself in readiness to accompany us," replied the detective; "we are officers of the law and now place you under arrest."

At this the faces of the cowering wretches, whose utterances and writings have caused so much misery and recent bloodshed, paled to the color of ashes. They made no reply and offered no resistance, first because of cowardice and secondly because they were shrewd enough to see that the slightest disobedience would result in their being shot in their tracks. The only one who showed a balky spirit was Christian Spies, who asked Detective Duffy by what right he was arrested. A significant move of the detective toward his pistol was the answer he received. Without more ado he fell into line, and the three were then escorted to police headquarters and for the moment locked in a room with the chief officials and State's Atty. Grinnell. The prisoners were submitted to a close search, during which they uttered not a word. Their pale lips were tightly compressed and their eyes were kept constantly on the floor. Michael Schwab, an editorial writer, trembled like an aspen and could hardly button his coat. This office was performed for him in no very gentle manner by the justly incensed officials. These latter, filled with thoughts of their dead and wounded companions, glared at the anarchists and looked the deep hatred they felt for their prisoners.

August Spies, in a Prince Albert coat and neatly-fitting pantaloons, seemed the most self-possessed, although he, it was easily seen, forced his seeming unconcern. His eyes were red and inflamed, giving him the appearance of a man who had slept uneasily or not at all. The search being over, they were unceremoniously hustled down stairs to the cells, where the strong bolts were closed on them, and they were left to their own thoughts.

One hour later Detectives Ryan, Costello and Slayton marched proudly into headquarters, having in their midst that despicable,

blatant coward, Samuel Fielden. He had been captured at his home, No. 110 West Polk street, roused out of bed and compelled to limp to the Central station. Unfortunately he was but slightly wounded at the Haymarket square riot. A spent ball hurt the knee cap somewhat, just enough to make it extremely painful. He is a villainous-looking fellow at best, of heavy, stocky build, shoulders broad and slightly stooped, large hands, and muscular arms. His head is covered with a thick growth of frowsy rat-colored hair, and his face is almost hidden in a mass of whiskers resembling moss-hair. The expression of his countenance as a prisoner was in great contrast to that as a murder-preaching devil. He it was who made the last speech to the socialist crowd on Tuesday night. Then, mounted on a platform, his face contorted in a most fiendish shape, he harangued and urged his listeners to pillage and kill. He was in his element and felt safe in his backing. Yesterday, however, his visage was one of extreme despair and fear. The brutal look had given place to one of fearful anxiety, and as he was led into the secret room of the police he cast his little ratty eyes about from face to face looking in vain for a friendly countenance. A few moments' search of his sweaty, sticky clothes disclosed nothing but a dirty handkerchief and numerous circulars appealing to the workingman to take up arms, etc. He whined and groaned with fear and pain when locked up next to his brother villains. Turnkey Figg said, on coming up-stairs from the cells, that he never in his life turned a bolt with so much satisfaction.

At noon Mayor Harrison, States Atty. Grinnell, and a number of detectives visited the office of the Arbeiter Zeitung, where a general search of the premises was instituted. . . .

While making the search a Mr. Oscar Niebe stepped into the office and inquired for August Spies. He was immediately taken in hand by Mayor Harrison, who asked him to give an account of himself, his honor thinking that the man was concerned with the office. The reply was that he was a friend of Spies, but was in no way interested in the paper. He, however, would get out the morning edition of the paper if no objection were offered.

"I promise you, sir," he said to his honor, "that nothing of an incendiary nature will be published."

"That there won't I can assure you," significantly replied the mayor.

Fifteen minutes later it was decided to arrest everyone connected with the office, from the devil to the foreman. Niebe, who claims to be an employe of a brewery, was not found when a return was made to effect the arrest. It is not known that he is wanted, for that matter.

CHICAGO Inter Ocean, MAY 6, 1886

Shortly after the Spies brothers and Schwab were arrested a patrol wagon containing a dozen officers under command of Captain Bonfield dashed up to the beer saloon which is located directly beneath the offices of the Arbeiter Zeitung. The officers dismounted from the wagon in haste and filed up the narrow stairs into the office and took possession of it in the name of the people. Five officers proceeded to the third floor where twenty-five printers were engaged in setting into type anarachist editorials and circulars. Captain Bonfield ordered them all under arrest and in a few minutes they were on their way downstairs to the patrol wagons, which were drawn up to the curb to receive them. A cordon of police was formed on either side of the entrance to prevent interference with the arrests and also to prevent any of the prisonersescaping. They were a motley looking lot, all having the air of pronounced socialists, although reasonably well dressed.... All along the route were gathered hundredsof the "capitalists," the especial objects of a socialist's hatred, and the police were loudly cheered for their action, while the socialists were groaned at, hissed at, and made otherwise miserable.... Only one of the prisoners, a small sized, sallow man undertook to exhibit contrariness, and for his exhibition he received such a shaking at the hands of his captors as he will not forget for many days. The gang was taken into the cell-room, "booked," and locked up....

CHICAGO Inter Ocean, MAY 5, 1886

Mayor Harrison was seen at his residence after midnight. He was up conversing with his family over the affairs of the night. He said: ". . . I went down to the meeting and mingled with the crowd, going from point to point and hearing all that was said. First Spies made a speech a little incendiary, and then he introduced Parsons, who was not very incendiary, and who struck me as being more demagogical. The crowd did not strike me as being sympathetic with the speakers. Those on the outskirts jeered them, saying "Well, they never work," etc. Those directly around the speaker's stand cheered them vigorously. . . . A little after 10 o'clock I left the meeting, and got home about 10:20 o'clock. Bonfield in the meantime had directed all the stations, except in the Desplaines, Madison, and Lake Street Station, to let the reserve forcego. About 10:30 o'clock I undressed and was about going to bed when I heard what seemed like a cannon and then a rattling sound after it. I thought it might be thunder. I raised the window and then heard the rattling of small arms, revolver shots, and got the direction they were in. I dressed and went down to the station. There I found twenty-eight of our men more or less badly wounded and two dead, and others that I fear will die.... I inquired as to the cause. ... It seems that after Parsons finished, a fellow named Fielden commenced to talk. One officer reported that he said that the crowd should before morning go and mete out to the silk-stocking aristocracy what their brothers at McCormick's had received yesterday. Another officer reported that Fielden called the crowd to arms, and to act before morning. Where it [the bomb] came from I do not know, some say

2

it was from a window, others from the stand where Fielden was, and some think they saw the man. We'll find out.... Almost immediately after the bomb, pistol shots were fired. I don't know whether it was the crowd or police who shot first. The detectives say it was the mob.... / I should judge from the way they cheered that there were 300 or 400 men around the speaker who wanted to do something to-night. Around were some who went to see.... I suppose that Fielden's speech was so incendiary that when the police appeared they were ready to do anything. I can't tell what will be the result of this. Naturally this will bring the people who think to their senses. It would strike me that it would at once convince the better element of the strikers that they must cut loose from these nihilists. This shows that the nihilists don't want eight hours but revolution. ... This affair does not change my views. I shall take care of and protect the city to the best of my ability. Neither will this change the actions of the police, though they will look out for bombs now.... The fellow that had that bomb may have been a nihilistic crank. My impression is that Mr. Spies is responsible for to-night's action in his calling the meeting, together with the headlines, `Blood!' `Revenge!' He will be indicted for inciting riot and bloodshed at once. His paper is evidence enough. He wanted them to meet the police, and the crowd did meet the police, and were prepared with deadly weapons. The police will look up the other fellows, and have evidence enough for them."

"What if they find the man that threw the bomb?"

"Great God, they will swing him. I can't tell what I will do to-morrow. I can not make up my mind at once. This is a sort of thing where a man must be guided by the facts before him. This does not excite or alarm me, but it disgusts me, and makes me sad. I knew danger was liable to come, but when I went home I thought Parsons was the last speaker. I will protect this city."

CHICAGO Evening Journal, MAY 5, 1886

This morning Inspector Bonfield went to Zipp's [Zepf's]

Hall, corner of Lake and Desplaines street, and closed the saloon and hall. In the building they found severalmuskets, some red flags and a large mass of socialist documents. There were some books and correspondence which was in German. As far as they have been translated nothing treasonable or opposed to good order was found. Crowds gathered on the corners, and some began to complain about the closing of the building, but when the officers explained the necessity of the action all acquiesced save two, who were gently but firmly persuaded to move up the street. Grief's Hall, at 54 West Lake street was next visited. A meeting of freight-handlers was in session. After a conference with Inspector Bonfield, the President of the association invited him to address the boys. He went in and was introduced to the striking freight-handlers. The President said:

Men, every one of you raise your right hands and swear

that you have no sympathy with the socialists who committed the dreadful crime of last night, and that you deprecate all misrule and will do your level best to keep the peace from being broken, and that you will do your part as good citizens to protect men and property from any harm.

Every many raised his hand and emphasized his answer

with a lusty "I will." Inspector Bonfield made them a little speech, and

advised them to avoid assembling in crowds upon the streets, and especially not to march in procession. He gave them a lot of good advice about avoiding even the appearance of evil, and withdrew....