24

FORTY THOUSAND OUTSIDE THE GATE.

They Peep Through Knot-Holes in the Fence-Side-Shows Flourish.

Those who think that the closing of the World's Fair Sunday inflicts no hardship upon the wage-workers should have been on Stony Island avenue yesterday. Forty thousand people were barred out. Men with their wives and children, young men with the maids of their choice trooped hopelessly up and down before that implacable fence.

On one side of the fence was the "Dream City" - a fairyland of restful beauty of green grass and blue water. On the other was a gang of howling fakers whose wares are the cheapest attractions that ever surrounded a circus tent. The crowd which thronged Stony Island avenue all day was the largest ever debarred from the grounds. Before every gate or possible coign of vantage people clustered in groups, eager to obtain even a glimpse of that which is to them a forbidden land. They were no mere pleasure seekers, these men who rested toil-worn hands upon each other's shoulders in their endeavors to see. They had

no time to take a day from the week of work. Sunday only was theirs, and the White City was closed against them.

There were few threats, for an American crowd can suffer long in silence, but there was ominous discontent, and with it that to them unanswerable question. "Why?" The people seemed to feel their power, and that their numbers were a vast protest, but they waited and hoped. One man said the Fair would be open next week.

"Next week!" he was answered. "You bet it will be open next week. Look at that crowd. What the people want the people will get."

Excursionsists Greatly Disappointed.

The crows was composed half of the excursionists from the country. They came on excursion trains from rural districts tributary to Chicago, lured in, it is said, by flaming railway advertisements. They had their hard dollars to pay admissions. Their jaws fell away down on their chests when they learned that they could only spend the day by patronizing the side shows and "lemon'" stands that were on exhibition out among the greens and early dog-fennell in blossom outside the fence. They put in the day trying to beat the games and buy out the stands.

The lumber of which the fences are built about the grounds of the World's Fair proper, as well as around the exhibit of Midway

Plaisance, is of a poor quality and full of knots. Almost all those knots have been knocked out and many persons glued their eyes to these holes, getting what glimpse of the White City the limited range afforded. It is said that, if the gates are kept closed next Sunday, any petitions will be filed on the part of Sunday closers to have corn bobs driven into all these knot holes and broken off.

The streets about the grounds were thronged with vehicles of all sorts, from the most fashionable turnouts from South Side boulevards to the carts of the humble toiler, all filled with wide-eyed people. Boats were crowded to their capacity and the "L," steam, cable, and electric cars had passengers walking around over each other's corns and hanging on by one hand, a toe, or an eye-winker.

Enjoying Outside Shows.

The people turned to see outside attractions. The most prominence was attached to Buffalo Bill's show and the sharp crack of the revolver, the low bawl of the long horned Texas steer, and the hoarse yow yow of the Buffalo from inside the enclosure drew in many thousands. Then there was the gypsy woman at the tent door luring in the deacon from the country village to squeeze his hand and tell his fortune. A Salvation Army squad was singing an exhortative hymn in a half completed tent, while a stiff game of stud poker was flying high with broadly stretched wings in a tent in the rear of a popcorn and red pop stand within easy hearing distance of the salvationists. A good many grins were led out and many cheeks cracked with laughter by a fat man, a mountain of adipose, falling from the clothesline chariot. The chariot is a huge clothes basket, a regular Fallstaff enclosure, suspended so as to slide on an elevated cable a half block in length. The fat aeronaut rolled from a lofty height and broke the machine, much to the delight of the wide-mouthed youngsters standing by.

A young married couple from Paxton took their first born child to one of those open-air photo galleries to be "took." The cherub persisted in yanking its cute little lace bonnet to one side of its head and twisting its features to correspond. A hundred gazers gathered 'round. Many suggestions were made. It was proposed to hold photos before its pretty blue eyes so as to induce a smile. A picture of World's Fair managers was presented. Away went the childish features into a wild disorder. Bob Ingersoll was tried on it, and the little one burst into tears. Carter H. Harrison was held up. The child reached out its tiny hands as if to clutch it. A picture of Baby Ruth Cleveland was held out, and a sweet smile, one of those cherubic cheek-swellers, there a glow over the face and the photo was a good one.

It was difficult to find beer for sale in the prohibition district, but industry was rewarded by those who felt they must have it.

Mingling with the crowds with hands in

pockets were many of Chicago's ablest detectives, as well as a large number of the veteran pickpockets of the city. Good, strong-armed men who make a living by smiting people at the mouths of alleys, long-fingered persons who relieve the pockets of others of coin, porch-climbers, burglars, "fighters," biters, etc., were there too.