are the outcomes of their conditions. They are
always half-clad in the winter time; their clothes differ nothing at all
from their summer clothes; they have no overcoats or coats; many of them
go barefoot all winter long. They come out from the hot mills into cold,
raw winds and fall an easy prey to pneumonia, scourge of the mill-town.
Their general health is bad all the year round; their skins and
complexions have taken the tone of the sandy soil of the Southern
country in which they are bred and in which their martyrdom is
accomplished. I never saw a rosy cheek nor a clear skin: these are the
parchment editions of childhood on which Tragedy is written indelibly.
You can there read the eternal condemnation of those who have employed
them for the sake of gain.

It is a melancholy satisfaction to believe that mill labour will kill
off little spinners and spoolers. Unfortunately, this is not entirely
true. There are constitutions that survive all the horrors of existence.
I have worked both in Massachusetts and the South beside women who
entered the mill service at eight years of age. One of these was still
in her girlhood when I knew her. She was very strong, very good and
still had some illusions left. I do not know what it goes to prove, when
I say that at twenty, in spite of twelve years of labour, she still
dreamed, still hoped, still longed and prayed _for something that was
not a mill_. If this means content in servitude, if this means that the
poor white trash are born slaves, or if, on the contrary, it means that
there is something inherent in a woman that will carry her past suicide
and past idiocy and degradation, all of which is around her, I think it
argues well for the working women.

The other woman was forty. She had no illusions left--please remember
she had worked since eight; she had reached, if you like, the idiot
stage. She had nothing to offer during all the time I knew her but a few
sentences directly in connection with her toil.

It is useless to advance the plea that spooling is not difficult. No
child (we will cancel under twelve!) should work at all. No human
creature should work thirteen hours a day. No baby of six, seven or
eight should be seen in the mills.

It is also useless to say that these children tell you that they "like
the mill." They are beaten by their parents if they do not tell you
this, and, granted that they do not like their servitude, when was it
thought expedient that a