unloaded from the cars and with a battery paraded the main street. The
battery was made up of several men in brown uniforms. They set up a
Gatling gun at the end of the street and the strike subsided.

An Italian who lived in a house on the hillside cultivated a garden.
His place was the one beauty spot in the valley. With a wheelbarrow he
brought earth from the woods at the top of the hill and on Sunday he
could be seen going back and forth and whistling merrily. In the
winter he sat in his house making a drawing on a bit of paper. In the
spring he took the drawing, and by it planted his garden, utilising
every inch of his ground. When a strike came on he was told by the
mine manager to go on back to work or move out of his house. He
thought of the garden and the work he had done and went back to his
routine of work in the mine. While he worked the miners marched up the
hill and destroyed the garden. The next day the Italian also joined
the striking miners.

In a little one-room shack on the hill lived an old woman. She lived
alone and was vilely dirty. In her house she had old broken chairs and
tables picked up about town and piled in such profusion that she could
scarcely move about. On warm days she sat in the sun before the shack
chewing on a stick that had been dipped in tobacco. Miners coming up
the hill dumped bits of bread and meat-ends out of their dinner-pails
into a box nailed to a tree by the road. These the old woman collected
and ate. When the soldiers came to town she walked along the street
jeering at them. "Pretty boys! Scabs! Dudes! Dry-goods clerks!" she
called after them as she walked by the tails of their horses. A young
man with glasses on his nose, who was mounted on a grey horse turned
and called to his comrades, "Let her alone--it's old Mother Misery
herself."