It seemed as though some great cosmic thing lay dead.

The pulse of the land had ceased to beat.

Of a truth the nation had died.
There were no wagons rumbling on the streets, no factory whistles, no hum of electricity in the air, no passing of street cars, no cries of news-boys--nothing but persons who at rare intervals went by like furtive ghosts, themselves oppressed and made unreal by the silence.
And during that week of silence the Oligarchy was taught its lesson.

And well it learned the lesson.

The general strike was a warning.