the most part—­and hopeful!  What the condition of these labourers is after they have tested the promises of the manufacturer and found them empty bubbles can only be understood and imagined when one has seen their life, lived among them, worked by their side, and comprehended the tragedy of this population—­a floating population, going from Granton to Excelsior, from Excelsior to Richland, hither and thither, seeking—­seeking better conditions.  They have no affiliation with the people of the town; they are looked down upon as scum:  and in good sooth, for good reason, scum they are!

It is spring, warm, gracious.  This part of the world seems to be well-nigh treeless!  There is no generous foliage, but wherever there are branches to bear it the first green has started out, delicate, tender and beautiful.

In my simple work garb I leave Columbia and take a trolley to the mill district.  I have chosen Excelsior as best for my purpose.  Its reputation is most at stake; its prospectus dazzling; its annals effective.  If such things are done in Gath...!

I cannot say with what timidity I descend from the tram in this strange country, foreign to my Northern habitation and filled with classes whose likeness I have never seen and around which the Southern Negro makes a tad and gloomy background.

Before the trolley has arrived at the corporation stores Excelsior has spoken—­roared, clicked forth so vibrantly, so loudly, I am prepared to feel the earth shake.  This is the largest mill in the world and looks it!  A model, too, in point of view of architecture.  I have read in the prospectus that it represents $1,750,000 capital, possesses 104,000 spindles, employs 1,200 hands, and can, with crowding, employ 3,000.  Surely it will have place for one more, then!  I am impressed with its grandeur as it rises, red-bricked, with proud, straight towers toward its centre—­impressed and frightened by its insistent call as it rattles and hums to me across the one-sixteenth of a mile of arid sand track.  At one side Christianity and doctrine have constructed a church:  a second one is building.  On the other side, at a little distance, lies Granton, second largest mill.  All this I take in as I make my way Excelsiorward.  Between me and the vast mill itself there is not a soul.  A thick, sandy road winds to the right; in the distance I can see a black trestle over which the freight cars take the cotton manufactures to the distant railroad and ship them to all parts of the world.  Beyond the trestle are visible the first shanties of the mill town.

Work first and lodgings afterward are my goals.  At the door of Excelsior I am more than overwhelmed by its magnificence and its loud voice that makes itself so far-reachingly heard.  There is no entry for me at the front of the mill, and I toil around to the side; not a creature to be seen.  I venture upon the landing and make my way along a line of freight cars—­between the track and the mill.