She was 14. Sitting with an open book on her lap she was weeping bitterly, when her mother entered the room.

"What has happened, Vera? What are you crying about? Has anything happened to you? For God's sake, speak out child?" "How they tortured them, mother! How they tortured them," the girl cried. "The best, the most noble souls they put into prison and torture. Oh, mother, when I grow up I shall give all my life for the great cause of freedom!"

"What are you talking about, child?" The mother was pale and trembling "Who gave you those books? My little girl, do you know what will happen to you? They'll put you into prison; they'll send you to Siberia."

"I shall be one of many, mother!" the girl answered.

Three years have passed. She was in prison. It was night, and her little cell was lighted by the flicker of a tiny lamp.

How gloomy was her cage. From the stony walls a numbing chill was breathing. She could make only five steps forward and back, so small was the cell. High in the wall there was a little, grated window. Many a time she would climb up the window-sill, press her face to the iron grating; only then she could see a little spot of the sky, and two or three stars. And with longing eyes she gazed into the patch of deep blue. There was freedom!

Behind the prison wall there was a river. It was spring, and at times she could hear the noise of a passing boat, the sound of the oars, human voices (how she longed

or them), and even a lonely song. And every night she would spend hours on the window-sill with her face pressed to the iron grating. For there was freedom! But behind her, in the silence of the night, she heard the distinct steps of the prison guards, and the clatter of their guns. From time to time a suppressed moan resounded -some one's heavy sigh-sone one's hasty steps-and again the ominous knocking of

the guns would drive her to the window-sill. In the neighboring cell was Oless. She smiled lovingly when she thought of him, and her heart filled with hope. They would suffer together.

She knocked gently on the wall. "Are you asleep, Oless?"

"No," came the answer, "I am not. Have courage, dear!"

"Oh, I am strong, Oless! Did you hear the song on the river? Do you remember how we two were rowing last spring?" "I remember, dear."

"I am strong, Oless! Aren't you with me? There is only a wall between us." "The wall is of stone, dear."

"Of stone," the girl echoed; "of stone," and with desperate eyes she looked up to the little window with the iron grating. "Of stone, of stone," she whispered.

She was faintly conscious of the enormous, crowded courtroom, the widely open windows full of sunshine, and the wave of fresh air, which intoxicated her. Her eyes, used to the dark cell, could discern nothing, when she entered the courtroom together with her six comrades and with a patrol of soldiers around them. She was dizzy from the crowd, the sunshine and the fresh air. She awoke when a soldier pushed her roughly to her seat, and she saw the wild glances of Oless' eyes.

"Be calm, dear!" she whispered. "Leave him alone!"

At first her eyes hungrily searched the crowd. She found many familiar faces who smiled to her and waived their hands. There were her classmates, students of the university, teachers, and many other sympathizers. Then her eyes fell upon the pale, withered face of her mother, who sat in the first row. How she had changed! Her hair was almost gray. A bitter pain seized the girl's heart; a lump rose in her throat.

Oless looked in the same direction. There, close to Vera's mother, sat his own mother. Hers was the greater tragedy, for the father of her son was the head of the

gendarmes in the city. There he stood, giving orders at the door, and, while his voice was firm, his hands trembled. He could not understand. .. He, who had arrested so many, who had seen so many teams, had come to the same misery himself. His only boy was a political criminal. His Oless, his dear boy! But the boy had not done any harm to anybody! Why were these children tried. With a sunken heart he looked up to the seven victims. There they sat, a girl of 17 and six boys, of whom the oldest

For the first time in the course of his life the old man felt a doubt. Before, everything had been clear; he served the czar, who was the ruler of Russia and the servant of God. And he in the czar's service would arrest every one who was against God and the government. Those were criminals; he was told so, and he believed. But when his Oless was taken to prison, and he saw his wife weeping and wringing her hands, then the change came. And he stood with a sunken heart. He was not a bad man at all. He only did his duty. And he could not understand. God, he could not understand!

* * *

By

The trial began. There was a long list of ceremonies, and Vera faintly answered "Yes," or "No," as the case might be. She was told to kiss the bible, and she did so, repeating the words which she hardly understood. Her eyes turned with doubt from the face of the judge, who was a tall, stout man, with gray little eyes and a face like that of a swine, to the jury, among whom she saw cold, heartless faces. For a minute her glance lingered on the face of their lawyer, who came purposely from Petrograd for this session of the supreme court. He smiled at her, and she answered with a faint smile. The face of the lawyer was the only clear spot in the dark mass of enemies around her.

He was a kind man; his heart was bleeding for the countless victims of the cruel regime. But he was helpless; he knew well that they would be sentenced, and within his big, sympathetic heart raged a great store of flaming hatred for the "butchers," as he called them.

They were guilty as a group of political criminals whose aim was to destroy the

present regime. Oless Krukoff and Vera Sharoff were the leaders; he, as the editor of a revolutionary magazine; she, as his secretary, and as the librarian of the revolutionary library which she popularized among the students. And the attorney added that it was better to destroy at once the kindling sparks of revolt than let them become red, burning flames.

Then came their lawyer's turn. "Gentlemen!" he said. "Gentlemen! Look up at the children who sit before you. Can they be criminals? The oldest is 21. The youngest, the little girl with the blue eyes, is only 17. Pure souls, full of idealism, for which Russia is renowned among the nations of the world. These children, noble and beautiful, were craving craving for higher ideals! And they found them in liberty! They wanted to relieve those who suffer. Was this a crime!"

He talked long, and he knew well that his words were useless and futile. Those who sat before him were servants of a regime that they obeyed blindly. They were indifferent to everything but their careers, and to make a career meant to sentence as many "enemies of Russia" as possible.

When at last the jury came back after an hour's discussion there was a dead silence in the courtroom.

"Guilty," a monotonous voice began to read. "Vera Sharoff, 17 sentenced for life to Sibera; Oless Krukoff, 21, sentenced for life to Siberia; Michael Ivanoff, 20, for life to Siberia. The rest are free."

"Oless! My only one!" a wild voice rang out of the dead silence. "Oless! My son! Murderers! Give me my child back!" The unfortunate woman fainted in the arms of her son.

Vera kissed her mother. "Good-by. mother," she said quietly. "Good-by! Have courage, mother, dear! I am only one of many!"

The gray-headed woman listened silently and looked with eyes that saw nothing, and two streams of tears rolled down her cheeks. And in the corner of the courtroom a tall, old gendarme in a blue uniform stood near the door pale and trembling, not daring to look into the eyes of his wife and son. He could not understand, by, God, he could not understand!

The educational work within our International Union is no longer a theory but a reality.

The Waist Makers' Union of New York, Local No. 25, made a start with its Unity House in the summer of 1916, followed by a Unity Center in the winter. The Waist Makers' union of Philadelphia, Local 15, followed suit with a Unity House this summer. This movement, though confined to these two locals, has accomplished a good thing in developing fellowship among the members. Large memberships in big cities make it uneasy, if not impossible, for the members to meet socially and make each other's acquaintance. I had the pleasure of witnessing how these Unity Centres unite the members who are scattered over the city.

Many a time we overheard this kind of conversation among our women members: "Jennie, why don't you accept a nomination for the Executive Board?"

Jennie: "Let those be in the Board who are fit for it."

"But Jennie, you are an intelligent girl, you are better qualified to be a member of the board than those who accepted the nomination. Don't you realize that it is your duty to run for that office?"

Jennie: "But I do not care for it."

"It seems to me, Jennie, that you don't take an interest in the union at all. You give the impression as if it were the same to you whether the union is managed by capable and honest people, or by incapable and dishonest people."

Jennie, in anger: "What makes you think so. I am just as much interested in the integrity and strength of my union as any member of it."

Many of us shake their heads in despair, and consider Jennie, or even Jack for that matter, a useless person. Yet this is not correct. Our unions are now bigger than years ago, when we were first organized. When the membership was small, they were all inspired by the idealism of youth. Then every member was one of the build

ers of the union, either an organizer, executive member, secretary, etc. All of them, with enthusiasm and hope, carried the burden of laying the foundation of the future union, and we think of them with respect and admiration.

Our local unions have grown immensely. The number of their membership is so big that whole cities could be filled with them. The personnel consists of different elements, language, habits, and inclinations, just as the population of a big city.

Not all the tens of thousands of the members of a local union could be moved to engage in one and the same activities. In a civilized community, every citizen finds something to do for the good of that community. One, for instance, is engaged in advancing the artistic taste of his fellow citizens, another is engaged in politics, etc. So every member could utilize his energy and do something for the good of the union and develop his mind at the same time, if opportunity offered.

The truth is that although Jennie or Jack are intelligent they may be unfit to assist in the management of the union, but fit and useful for some other activity.

Then the question arises, why not try to discover the ability and fitness of every member and utilize it for the good of the organization? No member will be indifferent to the union if he or she could be made active in any capacity.

The possibilities of a trade union with its tens of thousands of members are unlimited, if we only have some vision, idealism and belief in these possibilities. A start was made in this direction by the Philadelphia Convention of our International, when the convention created an Educational Committee of five, and instructed the General Executive Board to appropriate $5,000 for educational activities. The General Executive Board at its quarterly meeting in Cincinnati appointed three vice-presidents to represent the Board on the Committee.

At the last quarterly meeting of the General Executive Board in Boston, a plan

adopted by the joint committee was submitted, and the Board realizing that any plan of education must be gradually developed, and that no hard and fast method will work, referred the plan back to the committee with full authority to act. The committee engaged Miss Juliet Stuart Poyntz, Educational Director of the Waist Makers' Union, Local No. 25, as director of the International Educational Department. Miss Poyntz brings with her, besides her intellectual and educational qualifications and experience for such a big task, enthusiasm, devotion and confidence in the possibilities of the trade unions.

As a member of the Educational Committee, I believe that this Educational Department should remain a permanent institution of our International Union, and that no efforts should be spared to make it a

success.

Our members need to have a better understanding of the trade union movement, and one of the essentials of success is the development of the feeling of solidarity and fellowship among the workers.

To accomplish this we should attempt to bring together all our members socially, for the free discussion of different questions and exchange of opinions, and not only at formal business meetings. Both the more intelligent and the less intelligent members of our local unions will meet here on common ground and, besides developing fellowship. Such social gatherings will also serve as a medium of self culture. Every member could contribute something as well as get something out of such gatherings.

The function of the Educational Committee will be to develop activities within the unions that will bring together all our members and will enable them to come in touch with each other. It will give the Jennies and Jacks a chance to be actively interested in the union, to express themselves and utilize their energies and their enthusiasm for the good of their local union.

Just as we are learning to collectively sell our labor power and get the best of it, so we could learn to use our consumers' powers to the advantage of the workers.

An attempt at living co-operatively was already made by the Educational Department of Local 25 of New York, and Local 15 of Philadelphia. The Unity House en

Entered as second-class matter at the New York Post Office.

GENERAL OFFICERS

Benjamin Schlesinger, President Ab. Baroff, General Sec'y-Treas. STATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP. MANAGEMENT, etc., of the LADIES' GARMENT WORKER, published monthly at New York, N. Y., for October 1, 1917. State of New York, County of New York 309.

Before me, a Notary Public in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally ap peared M. Danish, who, having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says that he is the business manager of the Ladies' Garment Worker and that the following is, to the best of his knowledge and belief, a true statement of the ownership, management, etc.. of the aforesaid publication for the date shown in the above caption, required by the Act of August 24, 1912, embodied in section 443, Postal Laws and Regulations, printed on the reverse of this form, to wit:

1. That the names and addresses of the publisher, editor, managing editor, and business managers are: Publisher, International Ladies' Garment Workers' Union, 31 Union Square, New York City; Editor, Benj. Schlesinger, 31 Union Square, New York City; Managing Editor, A. Rosebury, 31 Union Square New York City; Business Manager, M. Danish, 31 Union Square.

2. That the owners are: International La: dies' Garment Workers' Union, 31 Union Square, New York, N. Y. Membership over 100,000. Benj. Schlesinger, President; Abraham Baroff, Secretary-Treasurer.

3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or holding 1 per cent. or more of total amount of bonds. mortgages, or other securities are: None.

M. DANISH, Business Manager. Sworn to and subscribed before me this 3d day of October, 1917. (Seal.) HYMAN BARSKY. (My commission expires March 30, 1919.)