several centuries ago; De Foe's Plague of London style. Heigh? What made
me think of it was Beaton. If I could get hold of him, you two could go
round together and take down its aesthetic aspects. It's a big thing,
March, this strike is. I tell you it's imposing to have a private war, as
you say, fought out this way, in the heart of New York, and New York not
minding, it a bit. See? Might take that view of it. With your
descriptions and Beaton's sketches--well, it would just be the greatest
card! Come! What do you say?"

"Will you undertake to make it right with Mrs. March if I'm killed and
she and the children are not killed with me?"

"Well, it would be difficult. I wonder how it would do to get Kendricks
to do the literary part?"

"I've no doubt he'd jump at the chance. I've yet to see the form of
literature that Kendricks wouldn't lay down his life for."

"Say!" March perceived that Fulkerson was about to vent another
inspiration, and smiled patiently. "Look here! What's the reason we
couldn't get one of the strikers to write it up for us?"

"Might have a symposium of strikers and presidents," March suggested.

"No; I'm in earnest. They say some of those fellows-especially the
foreigners--are educated men. I know one fellow--a Bohemian--that used to
edit a Bohemian newspaper here. He could write it out in his kind of
Dutch, and we could get Lindau to translate it."

"I guess not," said March, dryly.