what he bitterly
terms "wage slavery," he has risen. Never was he so strong as he is
today, and never so menacing. He does the work of the world, and he is
beginning to know it. The world cannot get along without him, and this
also he is beginning to know. All the human knowledge of the past, all
the scientific discovery, governmental experiment, and invention of
machinery, have tended to his advancement. His standard of living is
higher. His common school education would shame princes ten centuries
past. His civil and religious liberty makes him a free man, and his
ballot the peer of his betters. And all this has tended to make him
conscious, conscious of himself, conscious of his class. He looks about
him and questions that ancient law of development. It is cruel and
wrong, he is beginning to declare. It is an anachronism. Let it be
abolished. Why should there be one empty belly in all the world, when
the work of ten men can feed a hundred? What if my brother be not so
strong as I? He has not sinned. Wherefore should he hunger--he and his
sinless little ones? Away with the old law. There is food and shelter
for all, therefore let all receive food and shelter.

As fast as labor has become conscious it has organized. The ambition of
these class-conscious men is that the movement shall become general, that
all labor shall become conscious of itself and its class interests. And
the day that witnesses the solidarity of labor, they triumphantly affirm,
will be a day when labor dominates the world. This growing consciousness
has led to the organization of two movements, both separate and distinct,
but both converging toward a common goal--one, the labor movement, known
as Trade Unionism; the other, the political movement, known as Socialism.
Both are grim and silent forces, unheralded and virtually unknown to the
general public save in moments of stress. The sleeping labor giant
receives little notice from the capitalistic press, and when he stirs
uneasily, a column of surprise, indignation, and horror suffices.

It is only now and then, after long periods of silence, that the labor
movement puts in its claim for notice. All is quiet. The kind old world
spins on, and the bourgeois masters clip their coupons in smug
complacency. But the grim and silent forces are at work.

Suddenly, like a clap of thunder from a clear sky, comes a disruption of
industry. From ocean to ocean the wheels of a great ch