e, would find convincing
illustrations in conditions throughout the Nation, and especially
in Illinois.

In July, 1877, the famous strike of the railway employees came on.
It was exceptionally strong in the cities of Illinois--Chicago,
Decatur, Springfield, Galesburg, East St. Louis, and every other
city of considerable size. The State was ill prepared for such a
crisis. The strike ran along for several days with the State
unready to bring the matter to a close. Having been in office but
a few months, I had not yet secured any arms or other military
equipment with which to combat organized violations of the law.
The Illinois National Guard was inchoate--in fact, scarcely organized
at all, except in companies voluntarily formed, which were almost
entirely without military equipment. Finally, however, I determined
to order the National Guard to East St. Louis.

I telegraphed to Chicago for a locomotive and car to take me to
East St. Louis about two o'clock on a specified night. After
ordering the troops from different parts of the State to assemble
at East St. Louis on a given day, I went to East St. Louis myself,
three or four gentlemen accompanying me. There I found several
thousand men sitting about on the curbs of the sidewalks, apparently
perfectly quiet and inoffensive, if not unconcerned, and I concluded
that there was no reason why trains should not move.

However, I first consulted with several railroad men, expressing
the opinion that the strikers and their sympathizers did not seem
desirous of disturbing anybody, and insisted that they proceed to
move out their trains.

The superintendent of one of the roads finally promised to have a
train made up, and undertake to move it.

"All right," said I. "Fire up, and I will come around about the
time you are ready to move." He did as he had promised, and I went
around with the friends who were accompanying me.

But about the time the train was ready to move, these mild-mannered
laboring men, to the number of five or six hundred, gently closed
in upon the train, and put out the fire in the engine so it could
not be moved.

Thereupon, I stood upon the sidewalk and addressed this crowd of
five or six hundred fire-extinguishers. I told them that I had
come there to move the trains, and while I did not want to hurt
any one, that the trains would be started, if everybody who interfered
first had to be disabled. They gradually skulked away, and I
ordered