The Chicago Martyrs by John P. Altgeld

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ADDRESS OE SAMUEL FIELDEN.
trovert much that has been asserted here in my particular case.
Your honor, I have worked at hard labor since I was eight years of age.
I went into a cotton factory when I was eight years old, and I have worked
continually since, and there has never been a time in my history that I could
have been boughtor paid into a single thing by any man for any purpose which
I did not believe to be true. To contradict the lie that was published in connection
with the bill by the grand jury charging us with murder, I wish to say
that I have never received one cent for agitating. When I have gone out of
the city I have had my expenses paid. But often when I have gone into communities,
when I would have to depend upon those communities for paying
my way, I have often come back to this city with money out of my pocket,
which I had earned by hard labor, and I had to pay for the privilege of my
agitation ont of the little money I might have in my possession.
1'oday as the beautiful autumn sun kisses- with balmy breeze the cheek of
every free man, I stand here never to bathe my head in its rays again.r, I have
loved my fellowmen as I have loved myself. I have hated trickery, di!lhonesty,
and injustice. The nineteenth century commits the crime of killing its
best friend. It will live to repent of it. But, as I have said before, if it will
do any good, I freely give myself up. I trust the time will come when there
will be a better understanding, more intelligence, and, above the mountains
of iniquity, wrong and corruption, I hope the sun of righteousness and truth
and justice will come to bathe in its balmy light an emancipated world., II
thank your honor for your attention.
. Address of' Albert R. Parsons.
FREEDOM.
TOIL and pray I The world cries cold;
Speed thy prayer, for time is gold.
At thy door Need's subtle tread;
Pray in haste! for time is bread.
And:thou plow'st and thou hew'st,
Aud thou rivet'st and sewest,
And thou:harveslest in vain;
Speak! 0, man; what is thy gain?
Fly'st the shuttle day and night,
Heav'st the ores of earth to light;
Fill'st with treasures plenty's horn;
Brim'st it o'er with wine and corn.
But who hatb thy meal prepared,
Festive garments with thee shared;
And where is thy cheerful hearth,
Thy good shield in battle dearth?
Thy OJ eations round thee see
All thy work, b:.It naught for thee!
Yea, of all the chains alone thy hand forged,
These are tbine own:
Chains tbat round the body cling,
CUains tbat lame the spirit's wing,
Chains that infants' feet, indeed,
Clog! 0, workman! Lo! Thy meed.
What you rear and bring to light,
Profits by the Idle Wight,
What ye weave of divers hue,
'Tis a curse-your only due.
What ye build, no room insures,
Not a sheltering roof to yours.
Aud by haughty ones are trod-
Ye, whose toil their feet hath shod.
Human bees! Has nature's thrlIt
Given thee naught 'but honey's gift?
See! the drones are on the wing.
Have you lost the wlll to sting?
Man of llthor, up, arise!
Know the might that in thee lies,
Wheel and shaft are set at rest
At thy powerful arm's behest.
Thine oppressor's hand recoils
When thou, weary of thy toil,
Shun'st thy plough thy task begun,
When thou speak'st: Enough is done!
Break this two fold yoke in twain:
Br "k thy want's enslaving ('hain;
BI('nlr thy t-laVer)'8 WAnt and dread;
1I"',"1 I~ fn'Nlom, freodom bread.