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Updated: June 8, 2025
Early in 1909 the petition of the National Association to Congress for an amendment of the Federal Constitution was begun with Miss Williams chairman of the committee and 10,386 signatures were secured. Mrs. Philip Snowden of England lectured in Lincoln during the session of the Legislature and many of the members heard her. The annual convention was held in Lincoln November 18, 19. Mrs.
If Snowden had stayed here much longer I'd been willing to lay odds that Teddy would have run him off the car. Did I tell you about how Phil posted the silo?" "No; what about it?" Billy began an enthusiastic narration of Phil's clever piece of work, Mr. Sparling nodding as the story proceeded. "I am not surprised. He is a natural born showman.
"What is all this row about?" thundered the manager, stalking down the car, clad only in his pajamas. "We do not know, sir. We are trying to find out. I am afraid my friend has fallen out of bed and hurt himself," answered Phil. "I hope it killed him!" bellowed Mr. Snowden. "The idea of waking up the whole car at this time of the night! This nonsense has got to stop, and right quick at that.
Snowden was reserved, much by himself, and had little or no chance to learn bad habits; that is the only way I can account for his goodness.
Several understood the signs, but Snowden first rose, mounted a stump, and did not get off although receiving flesh wounds in half-a-dozen different places, and his clothing cut to ribands, until he saw the troops moving as directed. How we gritted our teeth as we heard the bullets whiz by that brave boy. I have the feeling yet. We thought his goodness saved him. His was goodness!
Snowden went directly to his stateroom where he locked himself in. "I guess the storm has blown over," decided young Tucker, grinning to himself. "But won't Phil raise an awful row when he hears about it!" The lad quickly learned the paste-making trick, and after dinner he set to work in earnest.
You may be a car manager yourself one of these times, and all this experience will prove useful to you," advised Mr. Sparling. "Not the kind of experience I have been having; that won't be useful to me," retorted Teddy. Mr. Sparling and Phil broke out into a hearty laugh, at which Teddy looked very much grieved. "Have you seen Mr. Snowden?" questioned Phil, glancing keenly at his employer.
There being one hundred and forty pounds of steam on the boiler something happened. The full force of the steam shot into the bottom of the can over which Mr. Snowden was bending. The contents of that can leaped up into the air, water, flour, bluestone and all, and for the next few seconds Manager Snowden was the central figure in the little drama.
Do you believe in the brotherhood of men: and do you, dear brethren, believe that Brother Arthur Henderson does not? Do you cry, "The world for the workers!" and do you imagine Philip Snowden would not? What we need is a name that shall declare, not that the modern treason and tyranny are bad, but that they are quite literally, intolerable: and that we mean to act accordingly.
He dashed to the sink, and, quickly filling a pail of water, ran back to the spot where Teddy was lying. Snowden turned the pail bottom side up, apparently intending to douse the water into Tucker's face. Instead, the contents of the pail landed on Phil Forrest's head, spreading itself over his bare back, and trickled down in rivulets over Teddy's face. The water was almost ice cold.
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