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Updated: July 21, 2025
On November 11, 1937, it is just fifty years since Albert R. Parsons, August Spies, Adolph Fischer, George Engel and Louis Lingg, leaders of the great eight-hour day national strike of 1886, were executed in Chicago on the framed-up charge of having organized the Haymarket bomb explosion that caused the death of a number of policemen.
The driver of the taxi knew only that three times during the course of his drive he had been caught in a block and had had to wait for a few seconds once at the entrance to Trafalgar Square, again at the junction of Haymarket and Pall Mall, and, for a third time, opposite the Hyde Park Hotel. At neither of these halting places had he heard any one enter or leave the taxi.
The vendor beggars, so familiar a sight a few years ago, have all but disappeared, and you may walk from Waterloo Station to the Haymarket without so much as meeting a needy soul anxious to carry your bag. Taxicabs are in great demand.
For literary news, in my poor way, I have a one-act farce going to be acted at Haymarket; but when? is the question, 'Tis an extravaganza, and like enough to follow "Mr. H." "The London Magazine" has shifted its publishers once more, and I shall shift myself out of it. It is fallen.
Still when I see a little waist, high heels, plump you know, that's the way I used to like them when I used to go to the oyster shops; there was one at the top of the Haymarket. Ah!
The chord line, as you see, carries you by Aldie, Haymarket, and Fredericksburg, and you see how turnpikes, railroads, and finally the Potomac, by Acquia Creek, meet you at all points from Washington. The same, only the lines lengthened a little, if you press closer to the Blue Ridge part of the way.
At the Haymarket Theatre I saw a fashionable audience wildly applaud a play in which the local tailor becomes a major-general and returns home to marry the daughter of the lord of a mayor whose clothes he used to cut before the war. "The age of great adventure," were the words used by Mr. H. G. Wells to describe this epoch as we discussed it.
"No, I beg of you not to do so, although I do not know any Madame Constantini." "She has changed her name to Calori, and she sings at the 'Haymarket." "I know who she is now. I am sorry you have told me." "I have no doubt you will keep my secret, and I am now going to find out where she lives; for that is the principal thing."
Her next letter shows again a more general interest, though still largely concerned with Terry: "The other night Terry spoke for the Social Science League on 'The Lesson of the Haymarket' referring, as you know, to the hanging of the anarchists in 1886.
There was S . She was only an "auricomous" damsel, serving in a tobacconist's shop in the Haymarket when he first found her, and now where was she? "Of course, I've no interest of my own to serve, my dear none whatever. And there'll be lots of people to tempt you away from me when your name is made." Glory uttered some vehement protest, and then was lost in her dreams again.
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