"The great, friendless mass-the hopeful, hopeless majority-they were true to you and the party, and they re-elected you."

His eyes were on mine again, and there was light in them; but it was the reflected light of fire, and it burned.

"And you-you betrayed them," I said; and I hurried on, piling on the fuel, all I had. "They have power, the people have, and they have needs, great common needs; and they have great common wealth. All your fat, rich franchises, all your great social values, the values added to land and franchise by the presence of the great, common, numerous mass, all the city's public propertyall are theirs, their common property. They own enough in common to meet all their great common needs, and they have an organization to keep for them and to develop for their use and profit all these great needed. social values. It is the city; the city government; city, State, and national. And they have, they breed in their own ranks, men like you, natural political leaders, to go into public life and lead them, teach them, represent them. And they leave it all to you, trusting you. And you, all of you-not you alone, Boss, but all of you: ward leaders; State leaders; all the national political bosses-you all betray them. You receive from them their votes, so faithfully given, and you transform them into office-holders whom you teach or corrupt and compel to obey you. So you reorganize the city government. You, not the Mayor, are the head of it; you, not the council, are its legislature; you, not the heads of departments, are the administrators of the property and the powers of the people of your city; the common, helpless, friendless people. And, having thus organized and taken over all this power and property and-this beautiful faith,

you do not protect their rights and their property. What

do you do with it, Boss?"

He started.

him:

He could not answer. I answered for

"You sell 'em out; you turn over the whole thing— the city, its property, and its people-to Business, to the big fellows; to the business leaders of the people. You deliver, not only franchises, privileges, private rights and public properties, and values, Boss: you-all of you together have delivered the government itself to these men, so that today this city, this State, and the national government represent, normally, not the people, not the great mass of common folk, who need protection, butBusiness; preferably bad business; privileged business; a class; a privileged class."

He had sunk back among the pillows, his eyes closed, his fingers still. I sounded him.

"That's the system," I repeated. "It's an organization of social treason, and the political boss is the chief traitor. It couldn't stand without the submission of the people; the real bosses have to get that. They can't buy the people-too many of them; so they buy the people's leaders, and the disloyalty of the political boss is the key to the whole thing."

These was no response. I plumbed him again.

"And you you believe in loyalty, Boss," I said"in being true to your own." His eyes opened. "That's your virtue, you say, and you said, too, that you have practiced it."

"Don't," he murmured.

A Ballad of Dead Girls

BY DANA BURNET

(American poet, born 1888)

SCARCE had they brought the bodies down

Across the withered floor,

Than Max Rogosky thundered at

The District Leader's door.

Scarce had the white-lipped mothers come

To search the fearful noon, Than little Max stood shivering In Tom McTodd's saloon!

In Tom McTodd's saloon he stood,
Beside the silver bar,

Where any honest lad may stand,

And sell his vote at par.

"Ten years I've paid the System's tax,"
The words fell, quivering, raw;
"And now I want the thing I bought-
Protection from the law!"

The Leader smiled a twisted smile:
"Your doors were locked," he said.
"You've overstepped the limit, Max-
A hundred women. . . . dead!"

Then Max Rogosky gripped the bar
And shivered where he stood.
"You listen now to me," he cried,

"Like business fellers should!

"I've paid for all my hundred dead,
I've paid, I've paid, I've paid."
His ragged laughter rang, and died—
For he was sore afraid.

"I've paid for wooden hall and stair,
I've paid to strain my floors,
I've paid for rotten fire-escapes,
For all my bolted doors.

"Your fat inspectors came and came-
I crossed their hands with gold.
And now I want the thing I bought,
The thing the System sold."

The District Leader filled a glass
With whiskey from the bar,
(The little silver counter where
He bought men's souls at par.)

And well he knew that he must give
The thing that he had sold,

Else men should doubt the System's word,
Keep back the System's gold.

The whiskey burned beneath his tongue:

"A hundred women dead!

I guess the Boss can fix it up,

Go home and hide," he said.

All day they brought the bodies down
From Max Rogosky's place-

And oh, the fearful touch of flame
On hand and breast and face!