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270 THE CRISIS Safe for Democracy RUSSIA. For a moment we thought that the general's life had been saved, when all at once a number of soldiers smashed open the door and rushed into the cr. They seized Dukhonin by the shoulders, pushed him out of the car steps, and then down to the station platform. Krylenko ran after them. At the sight of the general there was an outbreak of yells. "Kimm him at once!" the mob shouted. "It is enough that Kerensky and Korniloff have got away from us. This must be beaten down on the spot." The crowd began to surge closer around Dukhonin. In vain Krylenko shouted orders and entreaties; he was not heard. Riflebutts flew up into the air. Then came a dreadful sight. Krylenko entreated the mob to spare the unhappy man, but out from the crowd jumped a tall sailor, whose cap bore the name of the cruiser Aurora, and shoved Krylenko back. "Look here, you, if you mix into this business, we will settle with you, too." Then, with a single blow of his musket, he beat Dukhonin to the ground. The General immediately leaped up, his face bathed in blood, and tried to speak, but h was immediately transfixed by a dozen bayonets, and then upon that bloody body a fury of blows from rifle butts and heavy boots descended. The crowd fought to get nearer to the corpse. It was stripped of every stitch of clothing. Scenes of grotesque horror were enacted. Two soldiers, having each snatched one of the Genera's boots, fell upon each other curses and blows. Finally, the body, entirely naked, was propped up, against the railway car and, laughing like madmen, the crowd gave itself up to a series of monstrous amusements. Sailors, Red Guards, and soldiers threw snowballs and mud at the head of the dead man. -New York Evening Post. AMERICA. Jim McIlherron, the Negro who shot and killed Pierce Rodgers and Jesse Tigert, two white when at Estill Springs, last Friday, and wounded Frank Tigert, was tortured with a red-hot crowbar and then burned to death here to-night at 7:40 by twelve masked men. A crowd of approximately 2,000 persons, among whom were women and children, witnessed the burning. McIlherron, who was badly wounded and unable to walk, was carried to the scene of the murder, where preparation for a funeral prye was begun. The captors proceeded to a spot about a quarter of a mile from the railroad station and prepared the death fire. The crowd followed and remained throughout the horrible proceedings. The Negro was led to a hickory tree, to which they chained him. After securing him to the tree, a fire was laid. A short distance away another fire was kindled, and into it was put an iron bar to heat. When the bar became red hot a member of the mob jabbed it toward the Negro's body. Crazed with fright, the black grabbed hold of it, and as it was pulled through his hands the atmosphere was filled with the odor of burning flesh. This was the first time the murderer gave evidence of his will being broken. Scream after scream rent the air. As the hot iron was applied to various parts of his body his yells and cries for mercy could be heard in the town. After torturing the Negro several minutes one of the masked men poured coal oil on his feet and trousers and applied a match to the prye. As the flames rose, enveloping the black's body, he begged that he be shot. Yells of derision greeted his request. The angry flames consumed his clothing and little blue blazes shot upward from his burning hair before he lost consciousness. -Chattanooga Daily Times. MINE EYES HAVE SEEN By Alice M. Dunbar-Nelson A Play in One Act. (Rights of Reproduction reserved.) CHARACTERS. DAN: The Cripple. CHRIS: The Younger Brother. LUCY: The Sister. MRS. O'NEILL: An Irish Neighbor. JAKE: A Jewish Boy. JULIA: Chris' Sweetheart. BILL HARVEY: A Muleteer. CORNELLA LEWIS: A Settlement Worker. Time: Now Place: A manufacturing city in the northern part of the United States. SCENE. Kitchen of a tenement. All details of furnishing emphasize sordidness-laundry tubs, range, table covered with oil cloth, pine chairs. Curtain discloses DAN in a rude imitation of a steamer chair, propped by faded pillows, his feet covered with a patch-work quilt. Practicable window a backup. LUCY is bustling about the range preparing a meal. During the conversation she moves from range to table, setting latter and making ready the noon-day meal. DAN is about thirty years old; face thin, pinched, bearing traces of suffering. His hair is prematurely gray; nose finely chiseled; eyes wide, as if seeing BEYOND. Complexion brown. LUCY is slight, frail, brown-skinned, about twenty, with a pathetic face. She walks with a slight limp. DAN: Isn't it most time for him to home, Lucy? LUCY: It's hard to tell, Danny, dear; Chris doesn't come home on time any more. It's half-past twelve, and he ought to be here by the clock, but you can't tell any more-you can't tell. DAN: Where does he go? LUCY: I know where he doesn't go, Dan, but where he does, I can't say. He's not going to Julia's any more lately. I'm afraid, Dan, I'm afraid! DAN: Of what, Little Sister? LUCY: Of everything; oh, Dan, it's too big, too much for me-the world outside, the street-Chris going out and coming home nights moody-eyed; I don't understand. DAN: And so you're afraid? That's been the trouble from the beginning of time we're afraid because we don't understand. LUCY: (Coming down front, with a dish cloth in her hand.) Oh, Dan, wasn't it better in the old days when we were back home-in the little house with the garden, and you and father coming home nights and mother getting supper, and Chris and I studying lessons in the dining-room at the table-we didn't have to eat and live in the kitchen then, and- DAN: (Grinly.) -And the notices posted on the fence for us to leave town because niggers had no business having such a decent home. LUCY: (Unheeding the interruption.) -And Chris and I reading the wonderful books and laying such a decent home. DAN: -To see them go up in the smoke of our burned home. LUCY: (Continuing, her backs to DAN, her eyes lifted, as if seeing a vision of retrospect.) -And everyone petting me because I had hurt my foot when I was little, and father- 271
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