118 Transactions of the 



truth. Since tlie earliest times tlicse masterlcss and liomeless out- 

 casts have existed as a material and disturbinfj; clement of society. 

 An army numbering thousands followed the Crusaders. Their cap- 

 tain, to secure good faith, on their march stopped tiiem in defiles, 

 and if, upon search, one was found with so much as a penny, he 

 was exi)clled IVom the community, and was told to buy arms and 

 fight. In England, three hundred years ago, in Elizabeth's reign, 

 statutes were i)a.ssed providing for tlie i)unishment of tramps and 

 vagabonds. Tiien, as now. they were tlie bane of tlie industrial 

 classes, and whenever permitted fastened and fattened upon the body 

 of the community. In this State they are numbered by thousands, 

 swarming in the cities and infesting the country. Tiie world owes 

 them a living, and a living they will have. Is it quite apparent tiiat 

 there is any necessity for their living, and is it entirely certain that 

 society would not cheerfully excuse them from the discharge of this 

 duty? These people call upon you generally just atnightfall — when 

 it is too late to get any work out of them. Tiiey have suffered great 

 losses and have gone through untold troubles. You are afraid of 

 sending away one really unfortunate, and take him in. You joy to 

 see him feed, and you lie down better satisfied — even when you are 

 quite sure he is a humbug — that you have at least filled one empty 

 stomach and have paid tribute to mercy. And when you rise in the 

 morning and find (as was my case five times in as many months) that 

 your guest has decamped with what of personal property he found 

 convenient, you are more dis])osed to laugh than be angry. IIow 

 long these people are to insult labor by claiming to be elevated to it, 

 and how long society is to endure, are questions for your considera- 

 tion and for theaction of those to whom you confide the making of 

 your laws. 



Will the workingman here permit me to say to him, I am not 

 unconscious of the diificulties surrounding you. I certainly am con- 

 scious of the feeling of di.sgust Avhich sometimes agitates you, but 

 after all is not your condition a good one — have you not health and 

 length of days beyond those you consider more fortunate than your- 

 self? Are you not better instructed, with the rest of your fellows, 

 than has been the lot of man hitherto? Are not your rights as really 

 secure as any one's, and do you not feel a manly pride and exultation 

 in your ])osition and power, Avhich no other class can claim to pos- 

 sess? Are you not conscious that for all this, under heaven, you are 

 indebted to that higher civilization and intelligence which has been 

 worked out in this world by you, and with you, in equal degree by 

 your fellow-man? And if you believe as I do, that there is still 

 greater enlightenment, jjcace, and ])rosperity to come, is it not true 

 that past mistakes are as mut-h yours as they are of the rest of these, 

 your brethren, and to secure this glorious future — if it is not on the 

 whole better — casting aside the little jealousies that so easily beset 

 us, to work in concert for these higher ends, and to begin by confid- 

 ing in our fellow-men, and by observing towards them an intelligent 

 and manly justice? 



We must all be convinced there is something (Mit of joint with us. 

 Either our political and .social institutionsare mistaken, or they have 

 been made to appear so, to a material portion of our community. In 

 the absence of any reason to suppose our institutions are at fault, I 

 am inclined to believe that the present disturbed condition of the 

 public mind is fairly attributable to mistaken views, arising from tho 



