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So I went dashing over to the Department of Justice and into the law library, where I found Cordell Hull and Homer Cummings. If they had been acting parts in a play, they couldn't have put on faces that were more appropriate to spell to the audience total disaster, total defeat of themselves, and the end of the world. Both of them were slightly long-faced, but I never saw them look quite so long - long jaws, drooped mouths, downcast eyes. I was astonished to see the apparently desperate feeling that must have been back of those expressions.

I said some thing like, “We ought to look into this situation. I think it will be over very shortly. I think we can bring about an adjustment.”

Hull said slowly and lugubriously, “But I don't think that any adjustment is possible when a general strike has been commenced. It is too serious for an adjustment.”

I said, “But this isn't a general strike.”

“I'm afraid you're mistaken,” said Honer Cummings. “I have it right here.” He opened an imposing looking book that he had pulled down out of the law library. “Here is the definition of a general strike.” He read out of this book a definition, which I now forget, but