four were contribution-men, that is to say, they paid
the Union a shilling per week for permission to make bricks; but this
weekly payment was merely a sort of blackmail, it entitled them to no
relief from the Union when out of work: so a three-weeks' strike brought
them to starvation, and they could cooperate no longer with the genuine
Union men, who were relieved from the box all this time. Nevertheless,
though their poverty, and not their will, brought them back to work,
they were all threatened, and found themselves in a position that merits
the sympathy of all men, especially of the very poor. Starvation on one
side, sanguinary threats on the other, from an Union which abandoned
them in their need, yet expected them to stick by it and starve. In
short, the said Union was no pupil of Amboyne; could not put itself in
the place of these hungry men, and realize their dilemma; it could only
see the situation from its own point of view. From that intellectual
defect sprang a crime. On a certain dark night, Thomas Wilde, one of
these contribution-men, was burning bricks all by himself, when a body
of seven men came crawling up to within a little distance. These men
were what they call "victims," i.e., men on strike, and receiving pay
from the box.

Now, when a man stands against the fire of a kiln, he cannot see many
yards from him: so five of the "victims" stood waiting, and sent two
forward. These two came up to Wilde, and asked him a favor. "Eh, mister,
can you let me and my mate lie down for an hour by your fire?"

"You are welcome," said honest Wilde. He then turned to break a piece of
coal, and instantly one of those who had accepted his hospitality struck
him on the back of the head, and the other five rushed in, and they all
set on him, and hit him with cartlegs, and kicked him with their heavy
shoes. Overpowered as he was, he struggled away from them, groaning and
bleeding, and got to a shed about thirty yards off. But these relentless
men, after a moment's hesitation, followed him, and rained blows and
kicks on him again, till he gave himself up for dead. He cried out
in his despair, "Lord, have mercy on me; they have finished me!" and
fainted away in a pool of his own blood. But, just before he became
insensible, he heard a voice say, "Thou'll burn no more bricks." Then
the "victims" retired, leaving this great criminal for dead.

After a long while he came to himself, and found his arm was broken, and
his bo