A nauseating stench assails us as we enter the compulsory labor camp at Kharkov. The courtyard is filled with men and boys, incredibly emaciated, mere shadows of humans. Their faces yellow and eyes distended, bodies ragged, and barefoot, they forcibly remind me of starving pariahs in famine-stricken India. "The sewer is being repaired," the official accompanying us explains. Only a few prisoners are at work; the others stand about apathetically, or sprawl on the ground as if too weak for exertion. "Our worst scourge is disease," the guide remarks. "The men are undernourished and lack resistance. We have no medicine and we are short of physicians." Some of the prisoners surround our party, apparently taking us for officials. "Tovarishtchi," a young man appeals to us, "when will the Commission decide upon my case?" "Visitors," the guide informs him laconically. "We can't live on the pyock. The bread ration has been cut again. No...
We are very well pleased with the results of the Liverpool Trade Union Congress. The party of inaction, the "old gang" of place-hunters have been thoroughly worsted by the upholders of the "new" unionism, and the latter have taken a firm hold of the controlling power of the trade unions of this country. The organizations are pledged to a policy of very much greater activity, they have endorsed Socialism to a very considerable extent, they have declared their desire to have an eight hour law passed in the imperial parliament, they have elected John Burns on their parliamentary committee and they have discarded Shipton as parliamentary secretary. The men who in the past criticized the "Do-nothing" party in the severest manner- -criticism by t... (From : AnarchyArchives.)