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BERKSHIRE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



vestment thus — $1,967,755,642. Now the laborer's share in this 

 is $947,953,795- Deduct this from the united profits of the con- 

 cern, that is, $1,972,755,642 and we have what the manufacturer 

 receives over and above the laborer, which is $1,024,801,847. Now 

 suppose we give the manufacturer — the capitalist — 10 per cent, on 

 the original investment in the raw material, that is, on $3,396,- 

 823,549, he would then receive $339,682,354,900. Now deduct 



P this from what the manufacturer actually receives, that is, $1,024,- 



f^ 801,849, and you have what he receives over 10 per cent, on the 

 j| original investment, to wit, $685,119,492.10; that is so much over 

 H 10 per cent.; that is, over $685,000,000 of profit in the employ- 

 H ment of bones and muscles, brains and will power, as his stock in 

 || trade, and he could not have made even his 10 per cent, without 

 H these live factors. Thus the millions are being rolled up and the 

 H beggary increased. How is this amazing amount above 10 per 

 H cent, on the capital invested reached? It is reached by a mighty 

 p and remorseless depression of the price of labor. The price of 

 || labor may go down but the dividends must be kept up. Take an 

 || illustration. In yonder garret a woman in " unwomanly rags" is 

 |f making vests for three cents apiece, or doing white work for the 

 l| large shops, by which, after sewing 10 or 15 hours a day, she may 

 y earn possibly 25 cents. There are 100,000 of such women, strug- 

 || gling through life in New York City alone. The American woman, 

 II in the sunny and prosperous walks of life, is a queen, and the 

 queenliest of the whole. But still remorseless monopolies have 

 crushed the working woman down to as much of a slave as she 

 || ever was among the Turks or Huns, and this in America by the 

 y side of magnificent churches and palatial mansions! 

 y Tom Hood thought and felt very much in the same strain when 



y he wrote, 



y With fingers a-weary and worn, 



With eyelids heavy and red, 

 A woman sat in unwomanly rags, 

 |^ Plying her needle and thread — 



|j Stitch! Stitch! Stitch! 



yf In poverty, hunger and dirt, 



y And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, 



She sang the song of the shirt. 



Work! Work! Work! 



'Till the brain begins to swim; 

 Work! Work! Work! 



'Till the eyes are heavy and dim! 

 Seam and gusset and band, 



