le and counted it. Sam had not
seen so much money together since he piled his five hundred dollars in
gold in a stack and looked at it. He watched the count with fascination.
There must be a thousand at least.

He was shocked when the head usher leaned over the edge of the platform,
and whispered to Smith the total.

"Eighty-five dollars."

Sam glanced sadly at the two rows of negroes in front. There wouldn't
be much for each. He took courage in the thought, however, that some of
them were well-to-do and wouldn't ask their share. He was sure of this
because he had seen three or four put something in the baskets.

Gerrit Smith announced the amount of the collection with some
embarrassment and heartily added:

"My check for a hundred and fifteen dollars makes the sum an even two
hundred."

That was something worth while. Smith and Brown held a conference about
the announcement of another meeting as Sam whispered to the head usher:

"Could ye des gimme mine now an' lemme go?"

"Yours?"

"Yassah."

"Your share of the collection?"

The usher eyed him in scorn.

"To be sho," Sam answered confidently. "Yer tuk it up fer de po' black
man. I'se black, an' God knows I'se po'."

"You're a poor fool!"

"What ye take hit up fer den?"

"To support John Brown, not to feed lazy, good-for-nothing, free
negroes."

Sam turned from the man in disgust. He was about to rise and shamble
back to his miserable pallet when a sudden craning of necks and moving
of feet drew his eye toward the door.

He saw a man stalking down the aisle. He carried on his left arm a
little bundle of filthy rags. He mounted the platform and spoke to the
Chairman:

"Mr. Smith, may I say just a word to this meeting?"

The Philanthropist Congressman recognized him instantly as the most
eloquent orator in the labor movement in America. He had met him at a
Reform Convention. He rose at once.

"Certainly."

"Fellow Citizens, Mr. George Evans, the leading advocate of Organized
Labor in America, wishes to speak to you. Will you hear him?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" came from all parts of the house.

The man began in quivering tones that held Sam and gripped the unwilling
mind of the crowd:

"My friends: Just a few words. I have in my arms the still breathing
skeleton of a little girl. I found her in a street behind this building
within the sound of the voice of your speaker."

He paused and waved to John Brown.

"She was fighting with a stray cat