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+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" />
+<title>Home-Life of the Lancashire Factory Folk during the Cotton Famine</title>
+</head>
+<body>
+<h2>
+<a href="#startoftext">Home-Life of the Lancashire Factory Folk during the Cotton Famine, by Edwin Waugh</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Home-Life of the Lancashire Factory Folk
+during the Cotton Famine, by Edwin Waugh
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Home-Life of the Lancashire Factory Folk during the Cotton Famine
+
+Author: Edwin Waugh
+
+Release Date: November 19, 2003 [eBook #10126]
+
+Language: English
+
+Chatacter set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOME-LIFE OF THE LANCASHIRE
+FACTORY FOLK DURING THE COTTON FAMINE***
+
+
+
+Many thanks to Peter Moulding who transcribed this eText.
+email: p e t e r @ m o u l d i n g n a m e . i n f o
+http://www.mouldingname.info/00.html
+
+
+
+</pre>
+<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
+<h1>HOME-LIFE OF THE LANCASHIRE FACTORY FOLK DURING THE&nbsp; COTTON
+FAMINE</h1>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<p>BY</p>
+<p>EDWIN WAUGH</p>
+<p>Author of &quot;Lancashire Sketches&quot;, &quot;Poems and Lancashire
+Songs&quot;,<br />&quot;Tufts of Heather from the Northern Moors&quot;,
+etc, etc.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;Hopdance cries in poor Tom's belly for two white herrings.<br />Croak
+not, black angel: I have no food for thee.&quot;<br /><i>&mdash;King
+Lear.</i></p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>CONTENTS</p>
+<pre>Chap.&nbsp; Page
+I&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 1&nbsp; &nbsp; Among the Blackburn Operatives
+II&nbsp; &nbsp; 13&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+III&nbsp; &nbsp; 23&nbsp; &nbsp; Among the Preston Operatives
+IV&nbsp; &nbsp; 32&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+V&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 40&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+VI&nbsp; &nbsp; 48&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+VII&nbsp; &nbsp; 59&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+VIII&nbsp; 69&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+IX&nbsp; &nbsp; 79&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+X&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 87&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XI&nbsp; &nbsp; 97&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XII&nbsp; &nbsp; 107&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XIII&nbsp; 115&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XIV&nbsp; &nbsp; 123&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XV&nbsp; &nbsp; 132&nbsp; Among the Wigan Operatives
+XVI&nbsp; &nbsp; 139&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XVII&nbsp; 147&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XVIII&nbsp; 155&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XIX&nbsp; &nbsp; 163&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XX&nbsp; &nbsp; 171&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XXI&nbsp; &nbsp; 179&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;&nbsp; &nbsp; &quot;
+XXII&nbsp; 189&nbsp; An Incident by the Wayside
+XXIII&nbsp; 197&nbsp; Wandering Minstrels; or, Wails of the Workless Poor</pre>
+<pre>LETTERS AND SPEECHES UPON THE COTTON FAMINE</pre>
+<pre>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;209&nbsp; Letters of a Lancashire Lad
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;217&nbsp; Mr Cobden's Speech
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;227&nbsp; Speech of the Earl of Derby</pre>
+<pre>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;253&nbsp; Songs of Distress chiefly written during the Cotton Famine</pre>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>PREFACE</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The following chapters are reprinted from the columns of the <i>Manchester
+Examiner and Times</i>, to which Paper they were contributed by the
+Author during the year 1862.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>HOME LIFE OF THE LANCASHIRE FACTORY FOLK DURING THE COTTON FAMINE.<br /><i>(Reprinted
+from the Manchester Examiner and Times of 1862)</i></p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>AMONG THE BLACKBURN OPERATIVES<br />&quot;Poor Tom's a-cold. Who
+gives anything to poor Tom?&quot;<br /><i>&mdash;King Lear.</i></p>
+<p>Blackburn is one of the towns which has suffered more than the rest
+in the present crisis, and yet a stranger to the place would not see
+anything in its outward appearance indicative of this adverse nip of
+the times. But to any one familiar with the town in its prosperity,
+the first glance shows that there is now something different on foot
+there, as it did to me on Friday last. The morning was wet and raw,
+a state of weather in which Blackburn does not wear an Arcadian aspect,
+when trade is good. Looking round from the front of the railway station,
+the first thing which struck me was the great number of tall chimneys
+which were smokeless, and the unusual clearness of the air. Compared
+with the appearance of the town when in full activity, there is now
+a look of doleful holiday, an unnatural fast-day quietness about everything.
+There were few carts astir, and not so many people in the streets as
+usual, although so many are out of work there. Several, in the garb
+of factory operatives, were leaning upon the bridge, and others were
+trailing along in twos and threes, looking listless and cold; but nobody
+seemed in a hurry. Very little of the old briskness was visible. When
+the mills are in full work, the streets are busy with heavy loads of
+twist and cloth; and the workpeople hurry in blithe crowds to and from
+the factories, full of life and glee, for factory labour is not so hurtful
+to healthy life as it was thirty years ago, nor as some people think
+it now, who don't know much about it. There were few people at the shop
+windows, and fewer inside. I went into some of the shops to buy trifling
+things of different kinds, making inquiries about the state of trade
+meanwhile, and, wherever I went, I met with the same gloomy answers.
+They were doing nothing, taking nothing; and they didn't know how things
+would end. They had the usual expenses going on, with increasing rates,
+and a fearfully lessened income, still growing less. And yet they durst
+not complain; but had to contribute towards the relief of their starving
+neighbours, sometimes even when they themselves ought to be receiving
+relief, if their true condition was known. I heard of several shopkeepers
+who had not taken more across their counters for weeks past than would
+pay their rents, and some were not doing even so much as that. This
+is one painful bit of the kernel of life in Blackburn just now, which
+is concealed by the quiet shell of outward appearance. Beyond this unusual
+quietness, a stranger will not see much of the pinch of the times, unless
+he goes deeper; for the people of Lancashire never were remarkable for
+hawking their troubles much about the world. In the present untoward
+pass, their deportment, as a whole, has been worthy of themselves, and
+their wants have been worthily met by their own neighbours. What it
+may become necessary to do hereafter, does not yet appear. It is a calamity
+arising, partly from a wise national forbearance, which will repay itself
+richly in the long run. But, apart from that wide-spread poverty which
+is already known and relieved, there is, in times like the present,
+always a certain small proportion, even of the poorest, who will &quot;eat
+their cake to th' edge,&quot; and then starve bitterly before they will
+complain. These are the flower of our working population; they are of
+finer stuff than the common staple of human nature. Amongst such there
+must be many touching cases of distress which do not come to light,
+even by accident. If they did, nobody can doubt the existence of a generous
+will to relieve them generously. To meet such cases, it is pleasant
+to learn, however, as I did, that there is a large amount of private
+benevolence at work in Blackburn, industriously searching out the most
+deserving cases of distress. Of course, this kind of benevolence never
+gets into the statistics of relief, but it will not the less meet with
+its reward. I heard also of one or two wealthy men whose names do not
+appear as contributors to the public relief fund, who have preferred
+to spend considerable sums of money in this private way. In my wanderings
+about the town I heard also of several instances of poor people holding
+relief tickets, who, upon meeting with some temporary employment, have
+returned their tickets to the committee for the benefit of those less
+fortunate than themselves. Waiving for the present all mention of the
+opposite picture; these things are alike honourable to both rich and
+poor.</p>
+<p>A little past noon, on Friday, I set out to visit the great stone
+quarries on the southern edge of the town, where upwards of six hundred
+of the more robust factory operatives are employed in the lighter work
+of the quarries. This labour consists principally of breaking up the
+small stone found in the facings of the solid rock, for the purpose
+of road-mending and the like. Some, also, are employed in agricultural
+work, on the ground belonging to the fine new workhouse there. These
+factory operatives, at the workhouse grounds, and in the quarries, are
+paid one shilling a day&mdash;not much, but much better than the bread
+of idleness; and for the most part, the men like it better, I am told.
+The first quarry I walked into was the one known by the name of &quot;Hacking's
+Shorrock Delph.&quot; There I sauntered about, looking at the scene.
+It was not difficult to distinguish the trained quarrymen from the rest.
+The latter did not seem to be working very hard at their new employment,
+and it can hardly be expected that they should, considering the great
+difference between it and their usual labour. Leaning on their spades
+and hammers, they watched me with a natural curiosity, as if wondering
+whether I was a new ganger, or a contractor come to buy stone. There
+were men of all ages amongst them, from about eighteen years old to
+white-headed men past sixty. Most of them looked healthy and a little
+embrowned by recent exposure to the weather; and here and there was
+a pinched face which told its own tale. I got into talk with a quiet,
+hardy-looking man, dressed in soil-stained corduroy. He was a kind of
+overlooker. He told me that there were from eighty to ninety factory
+hands employed in that quarry. &quot;But,&quot; said he, &quot;it varies
+a bit, yo known. Some on 'em gets knocked up neaw an' then, an' they
+han to stop a-whoam a day or two; an' some on 'em connot ston gettin'
+weet through&mdash;it mays 'em ill; an' here an' theer one turns up
+at doesn't like the job at o'&mdash;they'd rayther clem. There is at's
+both willin' an' able; thoose are likely to get a better job, somewheer.
+There's othersome at's willin' enough, but connot ston th' racket. They
+dun middlin', tak 'em one wi' another, an' considerin' that they're
+noan use't to th' wark. Th' hommer fo's leet wi' 'em; but we dunnot
+like to push 'em so mich, yo known&mdash;for what's a shillin' a day?
+Aw know some odd uns i' this delph at never tastes fro mornin' till
+they'n done at neet,&mdash;an' says nought abeawt it, noather. But they'n
+families. Beside, fro wake lads, sick as yon, at's bin train't to nought
+but leet wark, an' a warm place to wortch in, what con yo expect? We'n
+had a deeal o' bother wi 'em abeawt bein' paid for weet days, when they
+couldn't wortch. They wur not paid for weet days at th' furst; an' they
+geet it into their yeds at Shorrock were to blame. Shorrock's th' paymaister,
+under th' Guardians, But, then, he nobbut went accordin' to orders,
+yo known. At last, th' Board sattle't that they mut be paid for weet
+and dry,&mdash;an' there's bin quietness sin'. They wortchen fro eight
+till five; an', sometimes, when they'n done, they drilln o' together
+i'th road yon&mdash;just like sodiurs&mdash;an' then they walken away
+i' procession. But stop a bit;&mdash;just go in yon, an' aw'll come
+to yo in a two-thre minutes.&quot; He returned, accompanied by the paymaster,
+who offered to conduct me through the other delphs. Running over his
+pay-book, he showed me, by figures opposite each man's name, that, with
+not more than a dozen exceptions, they had all families of children,
+ranging in number from two to nine. He then pointed out the way over
+a knoll, to the next quarry, which is called &quot;Hacking's Gillies'
+Delph,&quot; saying that he would follow me thither. I walked on, stopping
+for him on the nearest edge of the quarry, which commanded a full view
+of the men below. They seemed to be waiting very hard for something
+just then, and they stared at me, as the rest had done; but in a few
+minutes, just as I began to hear the paymaster's footsteps behind me,
+the man at the nearest end of the quarry called &quot;Shorrock!&quot;
+and a sudden activity woke up along the line. Shorrock then pointed
+to a corner of the delph where two of these poor fellows had been killed
+the week before, by stones thrown out from a fall of earth. We went
+down through the delph, and up the slope, by the place where the older
+men were at work in the poorhouse grounds. Crossing the Darwen road,
+we passed the other delphs, where the scene was much the same as in
+the rest, except that more men were employed there. As we went on, one
+poor fellow was trolling a snatch of song, as he hammered away at the
+stones. &quot;Thir't merry, owd mon,&quot; said I, in passing. &quot;Well,&quot;
+replied he, &quot;cryin' 'll do nought, wilt?&quot; And then, as I walked
+away, he shouted after me, with a sort of sad smile, &quot;It's a poor
+heart at never rejoices, maister.&quot; Leaving the quarries, we waited
+below, until the men had struck work for the day, and the whole six
+hundred came trooping down the road, looking hard at me as they went
+by, and stopping here and there, in whispering groups. The paymaster
+told me that one-half of the men's wages was paid to them in tickets
+for bread&mdash;in each case given to the shopkeeper to whom the receiver
+of the ticket owed most money&mdash;the other half was paid to them
+in money every Saturday. Before returning to town I learnt that twenty
+of the more robust men, who had worked well for their shilling a day
+in the quarries, had been picked out by order of the Board of Guardians,
+to be sent to the scene of the late disaster, in Lincolnshire, where
+employment had been obtained for them, at the rate of 3s. 4d. per day.
+They were to muster at six o'clock next morning to breakfast at the
+soup kitchen, after which they were to leave town by the seven o'clock
+train. I resolved to be up and see them off. On retiring to bed at the
+&quot;Old Bull,&quot; a good-tempered fellow, known by the name of &quot;Stockings,&quot;
+from the fact of his being &quot;under-boots,&quot; promised to waken
+me by six o'clock; and so I ended the day, after watching &quot;Stockings&quot;
+write &quot;18&quot; on the soles of my boots, with a lump of chalk.</p>
+<p>&quot;Stockings&quot; might as well have kept his bed on Saturday
+morning. My room was close to the ancient tower, left standing in the
+parish churchyard; and, at five o'clock, the beautiful bells of St Marie's
+struck up, filling my little chamber with that heart-stirring music,
+which, as somebody has well said, &quot;sounds like a voice from the
+middle ages.&quot; I could not make out what all this early melody meant;
+for I had forgotten that it was the Queen's birthday. The old tower
+was in full view from my bed, and I lay there a while looking at it,
+and listening to the bells, and dreaming of Whalley Abbey, and of old
+features of life in picturesque Blackburnshire, now passed away. I felt
+no more inclination for sleep; and when the knock came to my door, I
+was dressed and ready. There were more people in the streets than I
+expected, and the bells were still ringing merrily. I found the soup
+kitchen a lively scene. The twenty men were busy at breakfast, and there
+was a crowd waiting outside to see them off. There were several members
+of the committee in the kitchen, and amongst them the Rev. Joseph V.
+Meaney, Catholic priest, went to and fro in cheerful chat. After breakfast,
+each man received four pounds of bread and one pound of cheese for the
+day's consumption. In addition to this, each man received one shilling;
+to which a certain active member of the committee added threepence in
+each case. Another member of the committee then handed a letter to each
+of the only three or four out of the twenty who were able to write,
+desiring each man to write back to the committee,&mdash;not all at once,
+but on different days, after their arrival. After this, he addressed
+them in the following words:&mdash;&quot;Now, I hope that every man
+will conduct himself so as to be a credit to himself and an honour to
+Blackburn. This work may not prove to be such as you will like, and
+you must not expect it to be so. But, do your best; and, if you find
+that there is any chance of employment for more men of the same class
+as yourselves, you must write and let us know, so as to relieve the
+distress of others who are left behind you. There will be people waiting
+to meet you before you get to your journey's end; and, I have no doubt,
+you will meet with every fair encouragement. One-half of your wages
+will be paid over to each man there; the other half will be forwarded
+here, for the benefit of your families, as you all know. Now go, and
+do your duty to the best of your power, and you will never regret it.
+I wish you all success.&quot; At half-past six the men left the kitchen
+for the station. I lingered behind to get a basin of the soup, which
+I relished mightily. At the station I found a crowd of wives, children,
+and friends of those who were going away. Amongst the rest, Dr Rushton,
+the vicar of Blackburn, and his lady, had come to see them off. Here
+a sweet little young wife stood on the edge of the platform, with a
+pretty bareheaded child in her arms, crying as if her heart would break.
+Her husband now and then spoke a consoling word to her from the carriage
+window. They had been noticed sharing their breakfast together at the
+kitchen. A little farther on, a poor old Irishwoman was weeping bitterly.
+The Rev. Mr Meaney went up to her, and said, &quot;Now, Mrs Davis, I
+thought you had more sense than to cry.&quot; &quot;Oh,&quot; said a
+young Irishwoman, standing beside her, &quot;sure, she's losin' her
+son from her.&quot; &quot;Well,&quot; said the clergyman, cheeringly,
+&quot;it's not your husband, woman.&quot; &quot;Ah, thin,&quot; replied
+the young woman, &quot;sure, it's all she has left of him.&quot; On
+the door of one compartment of the carriage there was the following
+written label:&mdash;&quot;Fragile, with care.&quot; &quot; How's this,
+Dennis?&quot; said the Catholic priest to a young fellow nearest the
+door; &quot;I suppose it's because you're all Irishmen inside there.&quot;
+In another compartment the lads kept popping their heads out, one after
+another, shouting farewells to their relatives and friends, after which
+they struck up, &quot;There's a good time coming!&quot; One wag of a
+fellow suddenly called out to his wife on the platform, &quot;Aw say,
+Molly, just run for thoose tother breeches o' mine. They'n come in rarely
+for weet weather.&quot; One of his companions replied, &quot;Thae knows
+hoo cannot get 'em, Jack. Th' pop-shops are noan oppen yet.&quot; One
+hearty cheer arose as the train started, after which the crowd dribbled
+away from the platform. I returned to the soup kitchen, where the wives,
+children, and mothers of the men who had gone were at breakfast in the
+inner compartment of the kitchen. On the outer side of the partition
+five or six pinched-looking men had straggled in to get their morning
+meal.</p>
+<p>When they had all done but one, who was left reared against the wooden
+partition finishing his soup, the last of those going away turned round
+and said, &quot;Sam, theaw'rt noan as tickle abeawt thi mate as thae
+use't to be.&quot; &quot;Naw,&quot; replied the other, &quot;it'll not
+do to be nice these times, owd mon. But, thae use't to think thisel'
+aboon porritch, too, Jone. Aw'll shake honds wi' tho i' thae's a mind,
+owd dog.&quot; &quot;Get forrud wi' that stuff, an' say nought,&quot;
+answered Jone. I left Sam at his soup, and went up into the town. In
+the course of the day I sat some hours in the Boardroom, listening to
+the relief cases; but of this, and other things, I will say more in
+my next.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>A little after ten o'clock on Saturday forenoon, I went into the
+Boardroom, in the hope of catching there some glimpses of the real state
+of the poor in Blackburn just now, and I was not disappointed; for amongst
+the short, sad complainings of those who may always be heard of in such
+a place, there was many a case presented itself which gave affecting
+proof of the pressure of the times. Although it is not here where one
+must look for the most enduring and unobtrusive of those who suffer;
+nor for the poor traders, who cannot afford to wear their distress upon
+their sleeves, so long as things will hold together with them at all;
+nor for that rare class which is now living upon the savings of past
+labour&mdash;yet, there were many persons, belonging to one or other
+of these classes, who applied for relief evidently because they had
+been driven unwillingly to this last bitter haven by a stress of weather
+which they could not bide any longer. There was a large attendance of
+the guardians; and they certainly evinced a strong wish to inquire carefully
+into each case, and to relieve every case of real need. The rate of
+relief given is this (as you will have seen stated by Mr Farnall elsewhere):&mdash;&quot;To
+single able bodied men, 3s. for three days' work. To the man who had
+a wife and two children, 6s. for six days' work, and he would have 2s.
+6d. added to the 6s., and perhaps a pair of clogs for one of his children.
+To a man who had a wife and four children, 10s. was paid for six days'
+labour, and in addition 4s., and sometimes 4s. 6d., was given to him,
+and also bits of clothing and other things which he absolutely wanted.&quot;
+Sitting at that Board I saw some curious&mdash;some painful things.
+It was, as one of the Board said to me, &quot;Hard work being there.&quot;
+In one case, a poor, pale, clean-looking, and almost speechless woman
+presented herself. Her thin and sunken eyes, as well as her known circumstances,
+explained her want sufficiently, and I heard one of the guardians whisper
+to another, &quot;That's a bad case. If it wasn't for private charity
+they'd die of starvation.&quot; &quot;Yes,&quot; replied another; &quot;that
+woman's punished, I can see.&quot; Now and then a case came on in which
+the guardians were surprised to see a man ask for relief whom everybody
+had supposed to be in good circumstances. The first applicant, after
+I entered the room, was a man apparently under forty years of age, a
+beerhouse keeper, who had been comparatively well off until lately.
+The tide of trouble had whelmed him over. His children were all factory
+operatives, and all out of work; and his wife was ill. &quot;What; are
+you here, John?&quot; said the chairman to a decent-looking man who
+stepped up in answer to his name. The poor fellow blushed with evident
+pain, and faltered out his story in few and simple words, as if ashamed
+that anything on earth should have driven him at last to such an extremity
+as this. In another case, a clean old decrepid man presented himself.
+&quot;What's brought you here, Joseph?&quot; said the chairman. &quot;Why;
+aw've nought to do,&mdash;nor nought to tak to.&quot; &quot;What's your
+daughter, Ellen, doing, Joseph?&quot; &quot;Hoo's eawt o' wark.&quot;
+&quot;And what's your wife doing?&quot; &quot;Hoo's bin bed-fast aboon
+five year.&quot; The old man was relieved at once; but, as he walked
+away, he looked hard at his ticket, as if it wasn't exactly the kind
+of thing; and, turning round, he said, &quot;Couldn't yo let me be a
+sweeper i'th streets, istid, Mr Eccles?&quot; A clean old woman came
+up, with a snow-white nightcap on her head. &quot;Well, Mary; what do
+you want?&quot; &quot;Aw could like yo to gi mo a bit o' summat, Mr
+Eccles,&mdash;for aw need it&quot; &quot;Well, but you've some lodgers,
+haven't you, Mary?&quot; &quot;Yigh; aw've three.&quot; &quot;Well;
+what do they pay you?&quot; &quot;They pay'n mo nought. They'n no wark,&mdash;an'
+one connot turn 'em eawt.&quot;</p>
+<p>This was all quite true. &quot;Well, but you live with your son;
+don't you?&quot; continued the chairman. &quot;Nay,&quot; replied the
+old woman, &quot;<i>he</i> lives wi' <i>me</i>; an' he's eawt o' wark,
+too. Aw could like yo to do a bit o' summat for us. We're hard put to
+'t.&quot; &quot;Don't you think she would be better in the workhouse?&quot;
+said one of the guardians. &quot;Oh, no,&quot; replied another; &quot;don't
+send th' owd woman there. Let her keep her own little place together,
+if she can.&quot; Another old woman presented herself, with a threadbare
+shawl drawn closely round her gray head. &quot;Well, Ann,&quot; said
+the chairman, &quot;there's nobody but yourself and your John, is there?&quot;
+&quot;Nawe.&quot; &quot;What age are you?&quot; &quot;Aw'm seventy.&quot;
+&quot;Seventy!&quot; &quot;Aye, I am.&quot; &quot;Well, and what age
+is your John?&quot; &quot;He's gooin' i' seventy-four.&quot; &quot;Where
+is he, Ann ?&quot; &quot;Well, aw laft him deawn i' th' street yon;
+gettin' a load o' coals in.&quot; There was a murmur of approbation
+around the Board; and the old woman was sent away relieved and thankful.
+There were many other affecting cases of genuine distress arising from
+the present temporary severity of the times. Several applicants were
+refused relief on its being proved that they were already in receipt
+of considerably more income than the usual amount allowed by the Board
+to those who have nothing to depend upon. Of course there are always
+some who, having lost that fine edge of feeling to which this kind of
+relief is revolting, are not unwilling to live idly upon the rates as
+much and as long as possible at any time, and who will even descend
+to pitiful schemes to wring from this source whatever miserable income
+they can get. There are some, even, with whom this state of mind seems
+almost hereditary; and these will not be slow to take advantage of the
+present state of affairs. Such cases, however, are not numerous among
+the people of Lancashire. It was a curious thing to see the different
+demeanours and appearances of the applicants&mdash;curious to hear the
+little stories of their different troubles. There were three or four
+women whose husbands were away in the militia; others whose husbands
+had wandered away in search of work weeks ago, and had never been heard
+of, since. There were a few very fine, intelligent countenances among
+them. There were many of all ages, clean in person, and bashful in manner,
+with their poor clothing put into the tidiest possible trim; others
+were dirty, and sluttish, and noisy of speech, as in the case of one
+woman, who, after receiving her ticket for relief, partly in money and
+partly in kind, whipped a pair of worn clogs from under her shawl, and
+cried out, &quot;Aw mun ha' some clogs afore aw go, too; look at thoose!
+They're a shame to be sin!&quot; Clogs were freely given; and, in several
+cases, they were all that were asked for. In three or four instances,
+the applicants said, after receiving other relief, &quot;Aw wish yo'd
+gi' me a pair o' clogs, Mr Eccles. Aw've had to borrow these to come
+in.&quot; One woman pleaded hard for two pair, saying, &quot;Yon chylt's
+bar-fuut; an' <i>he's</i> witchod (wet-shod), an' as ill as he con be.&quot;
+&quot;Who's witchod?&quot; asked the chairman. &quot;My husban' is,&quot;
+replied the woman; &quot;an' he connot ston it just neaw, yo mun let
+<i>him</i> have a pair iv yo con.&quot; &quot;Give her two pairs of
+clogs,&quot; said the chairman. Another woman took her clog off, and
+held it up, saying,</p>
+<p>&quot;Look at that. We're o' walkin' o'th floor; an' smoor't wi'
+cowds.&quot; One decent-looking old body, with a starved face, applied.
+The chairman said, &quot;Why, what's your son doing now? Has he catched
+no rabbits lately?&quot; &quot;Nay, aw dunnot know 'at he does. Aw get
+nought; an' it's <i>me</i> at wants summat, Mr Eccles,&quot; replied
+the old woman, in a tremulous tone, with the water rising in her eyes.
+&quot;Well, come; we mustn't punish th' owd woman for her son,&quot;
+said one of the guardians. Various forms of the feebleness of age appeared
+before the Board that day. &quot;What's your son John getting, Mary?&quot;
+said the chairman to one old woman. &quot;Whor?&quot; replied she. &quot;What's
+your son John getting?&quot; The old woman put her hand up to her ear,
+and answered,</p>
+<p>&quot;Aw'm rayther deaf. What say'n yo?&quot; It turned out that
+her son was taken ill, and they were relieved. In the course of inquiries
+I found that the working people of Blackburn, as elsewhere in Lancashire,
+nickname their workshops as well as themselves. The chairman asked a
+girl where she worked at last, and the girl replied, &quot;At th' 'Puff-an'-dart.'&quot;
+&quot;And what made you leave there?&quot; &quot;Whau, they were woven
+up.&quot; One poor, pale fellow, a widower, said he had &quot;worched&quot;
+a bit at &quot;Bang-the-nation,&quot; till he was taken ill, and then
+they had &quot;shopped his place,&quot; that is, they had given his
+work to somebody else. Another, when asked where he had been working,
+replied, &quot;At Se'nacre Bruck (Seven-acre Brook), wheer th' wild
+monkey were catched.&quot; It seems that an ourang-outang which once
+escaped from some travelling menagerie, was re-taken at this place.
+I sat until the last application had been disposed of, which was about
+half-past two in the afternoon. The business had taken up nearly four
+hours and a half.</p>
+<p>I had a good deal of conversation with people who were intimately
+acquainted with the town and its people; and I was informed that, in
+spite of the struggle for existence which is now going on, and not unlikely
+to continue for some time, there are things happening amongst the working
+people there, which do not seem wise, under existing circumstances.
+The people are much better informed now than they were twenty years
+ago; but, still, something of the old blindness lingers amongst them,
+here and there. For instance, at one mill, in Blackburn, where the operatives
+were receiving 11s. a week for two looms, the proprietor offered to
+give his workpeople three looms each, with a guarantee for constant
+employment until the end of next August, if they would accept one and
+a quarter pence less for the weaving of each piece. This offer, if taken,
+would have raised their wages to an average of 14s. 6d. a week. It was
+declined, however, and they are now working, as before, only on two
+looms each, with uncertainty of employment, at lls. a week. Perhaps
+it is too much to expect that such things should die out all at once.
+But I heard also that the bricklayers' labourers at Blackburn struck
+work last week for an advance of wages from 3s. 6d. a day to 4s. a day.
+This seems very untimely, to say the least of it. Apart from these things,
+there is, amongst all classes, a kind of cheery faith in the return
+of good times, although nobody can see what they may have to go through
+yet, before the clouds break. It is a fact that there are more than
+forty new places ready, or nearly ready, for starting, in and about
+Blackburn, when trade revives.</p>
+<p>After dinner, I walked down Darwen Street. Stopping to look at a
+music-seller's window, a rough-looking fellow, bareheaded and without
+coat, came sauntering across the road from a shop opposite. As he came
+near he shouted out, &quot;Nea then Heaw go!&quot; I turned round; and,
+seeing that I was a stranger, he said, &quot;Oh; aw thought it had bin
+another chap.&quot; &quot;Well,&quot; said I, &quot;heaw are yo gettin'
+on, these times?&quot; &quot;Divulish ill,&quot; replied he. &quot;Th'
+little maisters are runnin' a bit, some three, some four days. T'other
+are stopt o' together, welly. . . . It's thin pikein' for poor folk
+just neaw. But th' shopkeepers an' th' ale-heawses are in for it as
+ill as ony mak. There'll be crashin' amung some on 'em afore lung.&quot;
+After this, I spent a few minutes in the market-place, which was &quot;slacker&quot;
+than usual, as might be expected, for, as the Scotch proverb says, &quot;Sillerless
+folk gang fast through the market.&quot; Later on, I went up to Bank
+Top, on the eastern edge of the town, where many factory operatives
+reside. Of course, there is not any special quarter where they are clustered
+in such a manner as to show their condition as a whole. They are scattered
+all round the town, living as near as possible to the mills in which
+they are employed. Here I talked with some of the small shopkeepers,
+and found them all more or less troubled with the same complaint. One
+owner of a provision shop said to me, &quot;Wi'n a deeal o' brass owin';
+but it's mostly owin' by folk at'll pay sometime. An' then, th' part
+on 'em are doin' a bit yo known; an' they bring'n their trifle o' ready
+brass to us; an' so we're trailin' on. But folk han to trust us a bit
+for their stuff, dunnot yo see,&mdash;or else it would be 'Wo-up!' soon.&quot;
+I heard of one beerhouse, the owner of which had only drawn ls. 6d.
+during a whole week. His children were all factory operatives, and all
+out of work. They were very badly off, and would have been very glad
+of a few soup tickets; but, as the man said, &quot;Who'd believe me
+if aw were to go an' ax for relief?&quot; I was told of two young fellows,
+unemployed factory hands, meeting one day, when one said to the other,
+&quot;Thae favvurs hungry, Jone.&quot; &quot;Nay, aw's do yet, for that,&quot;
+replied Jone. &quot;Well,&quot; continued the other; &quot;keep thi
+heart eawt of thi clogs, iv thi breeches dun eawt-thrive thi carcass
+a bit, owd lad.&quot; &quot;Aye,&quot; said Jone, &quot;but what mun
+I do when my clogs gi'n way?&quot; &quot;Whaw, thae mun go to th' Guardians;
+they'n gi tho a pair in a minute.&quot; &quot;Nay, by __,&quot; replied
+Jone, &quot;aw'll dee furst!&quot;</p>
+<p>In the evening, I ran down to the beautiful suburb called Pleasington,
+in the hope of meeting a friend of mine there; not finding him, I came
+away by the eight o'clock train. The evening was splendid, and it was
+cheering to see the old bounty of nature gushing forth again in such
+unusual profusion and beauty, as if in pitiful charity for the troubles
+of mankind. I never saw the country look so rich in its spring robes
+as it does now.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>AMONG THE PRESTON OPERATIVES.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Proud Preston, or Priest-town, on the banks of the beautiful Ribble,
+is a place of many quaint customs, and of great historic fame. Its character
+for pride is said to come from the fact of its having been, in the old
+time, a favourite residence of the local nobles and gentry, and of many
+penniless folk with long pedigrees. It was here that Richard Arkwright
+shaved chins at a halfpenny each, in the meantime working out his bold
+and ingenious schemes, with patient faith in their ultimate success.
+It was here, too, that the teetotal movement first began, with Anderson
+for its rhyme-smith. Preston has had its full share of the changeful
+fortunes of England, and, like our motherland, it has risen strongly
+out of them all. War's mad havoc has swept over it in many a troubled
+period of our history. Plague, pestilence, and famine have afflicted
+it sorely; and it has suffered from trade riots, &quot;plug-drawings,&quot;
+panics, and strikes of most disastrous kinds. Proud Preston&mdash;the
+town of the Stanleys and the Hoghtons, and of &quot;many a crest that
+is famous in story&quot;&mdash;the town where silly King Jamie disported
+himself a little, with his knights and nobles, during the time of his
+ruinous visit to Hoghton Tower,&mdash;Proud Preston has seen many a
+black day. But, from the time when Roman sentinels kept watch and ward
+in their old camp at Walton, down by the Ribble side, it has never seen
+so much wealth and so much bitter poverty together as now. The streets
+do not show this poverty; but it is there. Looking from Avenham Walks,
+that glorious landscape smiles in all the splendour of a rich spring-tide.
+In those walks the nursemaids and children, and dainty folk, are wandering
+as usual airing their curls in the fresh breeze; and only now and then
+a workless operative trails by with chastened look. The wail of sorrow
+is not heard in Preston market-place; but destitution may be found almost
+anywhere there just now, cowering in squalid corners, within a few yards
+of plenty&mdash;as I have seen it many a time this week. The courts
+and alleys behind even some of the main streets swarm with people who
+have hardly a whole nail left to scratch themselves with.</p>
+<p>Before attempting to tell something of what I saw whilst wandering
+amongst the poor operatives of Preston, I will say at once, that I do
+not intend to meddle with statistics. They have been carefully gathered,
+and often given elsewhere, and there is no need for me to repeat them.
+But, apart from these, the theme is endless, and full of painful interest.
+I hear on all hands that there is hardly any town in Lancashire suffering
+so much as Preston. The reason why the stroke has fallen so heavily
+here, lies in the nature of the trade. In the first place, Preston is
+almost purely a cotton town. There are two or three flax mills, and
+two or three ironworks, of no great extent; but, upon the whole, there
+is hardly any variety of employment there to lighten the disaster which
+has befallen its one absorbing occupation. There is comparatively little
+weaving in Preston; it is a town mostly engaged in spinning. The cotton
+used there is nearly all what is called &quot;Middling American,&quot;
+the very kind which is now most scarce and dear. The yarns of Preston
+are known by the name of &quot;Blackburn Counts.&quot; They range from
+28's up to 60's, and they enter largely into the manufacture of goods
+for the India market. These things partly explain why Preston is more
+deeply overshadowed by the particular gloom of the times than many other
+places in Lancashire. About half-past nine on Tuesday morning last,
+I set out with an old acquaintance to call upon a certain member of
+the Relief Committee, in George's Ward. He is the manager of a cotton
+mill in that quarter, and he is well known and much respected among
+the working people. When we entered the mill-yard, all was quiet there,
+and the factory was still and silent. But through the office window
+we could see the man we wanted. He was accompanied by one of the proprietors
+of the mill, turning over the relief books of the ward. I soon found
+that he had a strong sense of humour, as well as a heart welling over
+with tenderness. He pointed to some of the cases in his books. The first
+was that of an old man, an overlooker of a cotton mill. His family was
+thirteen in number; three of the children were under ten years of age;
+seven of the rest were factory operatives; but the whole family had
+been out of work for several months. When in full employment the joint
+earnings of the family amounted to 80s. a week; but, after struggling
+on in the hope of better times, and exhausting the savings of past labour,
+they had been brought down to the receipt of charity at last, and for
+sixteen weeks gone by the whole thirteen had been living upon 6s. a
+week from the relief fund. They had no other resource. I went to see
+them at their own house afterwards, and it certainly was a pattern of
+cleanliness, with the little household gods there still. Seeing that
+house, a stranger would never dream that the family was living on an
+average income of less than sixpence a head per week. But I know how
+hard some decent folk will struggle with the bitterest poverty before
+they will give in to it. The old man came in whilst I was there. He
+sat down in one corner, quietly tinkering away at something he had in
+his hands. His old corduroy trousers were well patched, and just new
+washed. He had very little to say to us, except that &quot;He could
+like to get summat to do; for he wur tired o' walkin' abeawt.&quot;
+Another case was that of a poor widow woman, with five young children.
+This family had been driven from house to house, by increasing necessity,
+till they had sunk at last into a dingy little hovel, up a dark court,
+in one of the poorest parts of the town, where they huddled together
+about a fireless grate to keep one another warm. They had nothing left
+of the wreck of their home but two rickety chairs, and a little deal
+table reared against the wall, because one of the legs was gone. In
+this miserable hole&mdash;which I saw afterwards&mdash;her husband died
+of sheer starvation, as was declared by the jury on the inquest. The
+dark, damp hovel where they had crept to was scarcely four yards square;
+and the poor woman pointed to one corner of the floor, saying, &quot;He
+dee'd i' that nook.&quot; He died there, with nothing to lie upon but
+the ground, and nothing to cover him, in that fireless hovel. His wife
+and children crept about him, there, to watch him die; and to keep him
+as warm as they could. When the relief committee first found this family
+out, the entire clothing of the family of seven persons weighed eight
+pounds, and sold for fivepence, as rags. I saw the family afterwards,
+at their poor place; and will say more about them hereafter. He told
+me of many other cases of a similar kind. But, after agreeing to a time
+when we should visit them personally, we set out together to see the
+&quot;Stone Yard,&quot; where there are many factory hands at work under
+the Board of Guardians.</p>
+<p>The &quot;Stone Yard&quot; is close by the Preston and Lancaster
+Canal. Here there are from one hundred and seventy to one hundred and
+eighty, principally young men, employed in breaking, weighing, and wheeling
+stone, for road mending. The stones are of a hard kind of blue boulder,
+gathered from the land between Kendal and Lancaster. The &quot;Labour
+Master&quot; told me that there were thousands of tons of these boulders
+upon the land between Kendal and Lancaster. A great deal of them are
+brought from a place called &quot;Tewhitt Field,&quot; about seven mile
+on &quot;t' other side o' Lancaster.&quot; At the &quot;Stone Yard&quot;
+it is all piece-work, and the men can come and go when they like. As
+one of the Guardians told me, &quot;They can oather sit an' break 'em,
+or kneel an' break 'em, or lie deawn to it, iv they'n a mind.&quot;
+The men can choose whether they will fill three tons of the broken stone,
+and wheel it to the central heap, for a shilling, or break one ton for
+a shilling. The persons employed here are mostly &quot;lads an' leet-timber't
+chaps.&quot; The stronger men are sent to work upon Preston Moor. There
+are great varieties of health and strength amongst them. &quot;Beside,&quot;
+as the Labour Master said, &quot;yo'd hardly believe what a difference
+there it i'th wark o' two men wortchin' at the same heap, sometimes.
+There's a great deal i'th breaker, neaw; some on 'em's more artful nor
+others. They finden out that they can break 'em as fast again at after
+they'n getten to th' wick i'th inside. I have known an' odd un or two,
+here, that could break four ton a day,&mdash;an' many that couldn't
+break one,&mdash;but then, yo' know, th' men can only do accordin' to
+their ability. There is these differences, and there always will be.&quot;
+As we stood talking together, one of my friends said that he wished
+&quot;Radical Jack&quot; had been there. The latter gentleman is one
+of the guardians of the poor, and superintendent of the &quot;Stone
+Yard.&quot; The men are naturally jealous of misrepresentation; and,
+the other day, as &quot;Radical Jack&quot; was describing the working
+of the yard to a gentleman who had come to look at the scene, some of
+the men overheard his words, and, misconceiving their meaning, gathered
+around the superintendent, clamorously protesting against what he had
+been saying. &quot;He's lying!&quot; said one. &quot;Look at these honds!&quot;
+cried another; &quot;Wi'n they ever be fit to go to th' factory wi'
+again?&quot;</p>
+<p>Others turned up the soles of their battered shoon, to show their
+cut and stockingless feet. They were pacified at last; but, after the
+superintendent had gone away, some of the men said much and more, and
+&quot;if ever he towd ony moor lies abeawt 'em, they'd fling him into
+th' cut.&quot; The &quot;Labour Master&quot; told me there was a large
+wood shed for the men to shelter in when rain came on. As we were conversing,
+one of my friends exclaimed, &quot;He's here now!&quot; &quot;Who's
+here?&quot; &quot;Radical Jack.&quot; The superintendent was coming
+down the road. He told me some interesting things, which I will return
+to on another occasion. But our time was up. We had other places to
+see. As we came away, three old Irishwomen leaned against the wall at
+the corner of the yard, watching the men at work inside. One of them
+was saying, &quot;Thim guardians is the awfullest set o' min in the
+world! A man had better be transpoorted than come under 'em. An' thin,
+they'll try you, an' try you, as if you was goin' to be hanged.&quot;
+The poor old soul had evidently only a narrow view of the necessities
+and difficulties which beset the labours of the Board of Guardians at
+a time like this. On our way back to town one of my friends told me
+that he &quot;had met a sexton the day before, and had asked him how
+trade was with him. The sexton replied that it was &quot;Varra bad&mdash;nowt
+doin', hardly.&quot; &quot;Well, how's that?&quot; asked the other.
+&quot;Well, thae sees,&quot; answered the sexton, &quot;Poverty seldom
+dees. There's far more kilt wi' o'er-heytin' an' o'er-drinkin' nor there
+is wi' bein' pinched.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Leaving the &quot;Stone Yard,&quot; to fulfil an engagement in another
+part of the town, we agreed to call upon three or four poor folk, who
+lived by the way; and I don't know that I could do better than say something
+about what I saw of them. As we walked along, one of my companions told
+me of an incident which happened to one of the visitors in another ward,
+a few days before. In the course of his round, this visitor called upon
+a certain destitute family which was under his care, and he found the
+husband sitting alone in the house, pale and silent. His wife had been
+&quot;brought to bed&quot; two or three days before; and the visitor
+inquired how she was getting on. &quot;Hoo's very ill,&quot; said the
+husband. &quot;And the child,&quot; continued the visitor, &quot;how
+is it?&quot; &quot;It's deeod,&quot; replied the man; &quot;it dee'd
+yesterday.&quot; He then rose, and walked slowly into the next room,
+returning with a basket in his hands, in which the dead child was decently
+laid out.</p>
+<p>&quot;That's o' that's laft on it neaw,&quot; said the poor fellow.
+Then, putting the basket upon the floor, he sat down in front of it,
+with his head between his hands, looking silently at the corpse. Such
+things as these were the theme of our conversation as we went along,
+and I found afterwards that every visitor whom it was my privilege to
+meet, had some special story of distress to relate, which came within
+his own appointed range of action. In my first flying visit to that
+great melancholy field, I could only glean such things as lay nearest
+to my hand, just then; but wherever I went, I heard and saw things which
+touchingly testify what noble stuff the working population of Lancashire,
+as a whole, is made of. One of the first cases we called upon, after
+leaving the &quot;Stone Yard,&quot; was that of a family of ten&mdash;man
+and wife, and eight children. Four of the children were under ten years
+of age,&mdash;five were capable of working; and, when the working part
+of the family was in full employment, their joint earnings amounted
+to 61s. per week. But, in this case, the mother's habitual ill-health
+had been a great expense in the household for several years. This family
+belonged to a class of operatives&mdash;a much larger class than people
+unacquainted with the factory districts are likely to suppose&mdash;a
+class of operatives which will struggle, in a dumb, enduring way, to
+the death, sometimes, before they will sacrifice that &quot;immediate
+jewel of their souls&quot;&mdash;their old independence, and will keep
+up a decent appearance to the very last. These suffer more than the
+rest; for, in addition to the pains of bitter starvation, they feel
+a loss which is more afflicting to them even than the loss of food and
+furniture ; and their sufferings are less heard of than the rest, because
+they do not like to complain. This family of ten persons had been living,
+during the last nine weeks, upon relief amounting to 5s. a week. When
+we called, the mother and one or two of her daughters were busy in the
+next room, washing their poor bits of well-kept clothing. The daughters
+kept out of sight, as if ashamed. It was a good kind of cottage, in
+a clean street, called &quot;Maudland Bank,&quot; and the whole place
+had a tidy, sweet look, though it was washing-day. The mother told me
+that she had been severely afflicted with seven successive attacks of
+inflammation, and yet, in spite of her long-continued ill-health, and
+in spite of the iron teeth of poverty which had been gnawing at them
+so long, for the first time, I have rarely seen a more frank and cheerful
+countenance than that thin matron's, as she stood there, wringing her
+clothes, and telling her little story. The house they lived in belonged
+to their late employer, whose mill stopped some time ago. We asked her
+how they managed to pay the rent, and she said, &quot;Why, we dunnot
+pay it; we cannot pay it, an' he doesn't push us for it. Aw guess he
+knows he'll get it sometime. But we owe'd a deal o' brass beside that.
+Just look at this shop book. Aw'm noan freetend ov onybody seein' my
+acceawnts. An' then, there's a great lot o' doctor's-bills i' that pot,
+theer. Thoose are o' for me. There'll ha' to be some wark done afore
+things can be fotched up again. . . . Eh; aw'll tell yo what, William,
+(this was addressed to the visitor,) it went ill again th' grain wi'
+my husband to goo afore th' Board. An' when he did goo, he wouldn't
+say so mich. Yo known, folk doesn't like brastin' off abeawt theirsel'
+o' at once, at a shop like that. . . . Aw think sometimes it's very
+weel that four ov eawrs are i' heaven,&mdash;we'n sich hard tewin' (toiling),
+to poo through wi' tother, just neaw. But, aw guess it'll not last for
+ever.&quot; As we came away, talking of the reluctance shown by the
+better sort of working people to ask for relief, or even sometimes to
+accept it when offered to them, until thoroughly starved to it, I was
+told of a visitor calling upon a poor woman in another ward; no application
+had been made for relief, but some kind neighbour had told the committee
+that the woman and her husband were &quot;ill off.&quot; The visitor,
+finding that they were perishing for want, offered the woman some relief
+tickets for food; but the poor soul began to cry, and said; &quot;Eh,
+aw dar not touch 'em; my husban' would sauce me so! Aw dar not take
+'em; aw should never yer the last on't!&quot; When we got to the lower
+end of Hope Street, my guide stopped suddenly, and said, &quot;Oh, this
+is close to where that woman lives whose husband died of starvation.
+&quot;Leading a few yards up the by-street, he turned into a low, narrow
+entry, very dark and damp. Two turns more brought us to a dirty, pent-up
+corner, where a low door stood open. We entered there. It was a cold,
+gloomy-looking little hovel. In my allusion to the place last week I
+said it was &quot;scarcely four yards square.&quot; It is not more than
+three yards square. There was no fire in the little rusty grate. The
+day was sunny, but no sunshine could ever reach that nook, nor any fresh
+breezes disturb the pestilent vapours that harboured there, festering
+in the sluggish gloom. In one corner of the place a little worn and
+broken stair led up to a room of the same size above, where, I was told,
+there was now some straw for the family to sleep upon. But the only
+furniture in the house, of any kind, was two rickety chairs and a little
+broken deal table, reared against the stairs, because one leg was gone.
+A quiet-looking, thin woman, seemingly about fifty years of age, sat
+there, when we went in. She told us that she had buried five of her
+children, and that she had six yet alive, all living with her in that
+poor place. They had no work, no income whatever, save what came from
+the Relief Committee. Five of the children were playing in and out,
+bare-footed, and, like the mother, miserably clad; but they seemed quite
+unconscious that anything ailed them. I never saw finer children anywhere.
+The eldest girl, about fourteen, came in whilst we were there, and she
+leaned herself bashfully against the wall for a minute or two, and then
+slunk slyly out again, as if ashamed of our presence. The poor widow
+pointed to the cold corner where her husband died lately. She said that
+&quot;his name was Tim Pedder. His fadder name was Timothy, an' his
+mudder name was Mary. He was a driver (a driver of boat-horses on the
+canal); but he had bin oot o' wark a lang time afore he dee'd.&quot;
+I found in this case, as in some others, that the poor body had not
+much to say about her distress; but she did not need to say much. My
+guide told me that when he first called upon the family, in the depth
+of last winter, he found the children all clinging round about their
+mother in the cold hovel, trying in that way to keep one another warm.
+The time for my next appointment was now hard on, and we hurried towards
+the shop in Fishergate, kept by the gentleman I had promised to meet.
+He is an active member of the Relief Committee, and a visitor in George's
+ward. We found him in. He had just returned from the &quot;Cheese Fair,&quot;
+at Lancaster. My purpose was to find out what time on the morrow we
+could go together to see some of the cases he was best acquainted with.
+But, as the evening was not far spent, he proposed that we should go
+at once to see a few of those which were nearest. We set out together
+to Walker's Court, in Friargate. The first place we entered was at the
+top of the little narrow court. There we found a good-tempered Irish-woman
+sitting without fire, in her feverish hovel. &quot;Well, missis,&quot;
+said the visitor, &quot;how is your husband getting on?&quot; &quot;Ah,
+well, now, Mr. T----,&quot; replied she, &quot;you know, he's only a
+delicate little man, an' a tailor; an' he wint to work on the moor,
+an' he couldn't stand it. Sure, it was draggin' the bare life out of
+him. So, he says to me, one morning, &quot;Catharine,&quot; says he,
+&quot;I'll lave off this a little while, till I see will I be able to
+get a job o' work at my own trade; an' maybe God will rise up some thin'
+to put a dud o' clothes on us all, an' help us to pull through till
+the black time is over us.&quot; So, I told him to try his luck, any
+way; for he was killin' himself entirely on the moor. An' so he did
+try; for there's not an idle bone in that same boy's skin. But, see
+this, now; there's nothin' in the world to be had to do just now&mdash;an'
+a dale too many waitin' to do it&mdash;so all he got by the change was
+losin' his work on the moor. There is himself, an' me, an' the seven
+childer. Five o' the childer is under tin year old. We are all naked;
+an' the house is bare; an' our health is gone wi' the want o' mate.
+Sure it wasn't in the likes o' this we wor livin' when times was good.&quot;
+Three of the youngest children were playing about on the floor. &quot;That's
+a very fine lad,&quot; said I, pointing to one of them. The little fellow
+blushed, and smiled, and then became very still and attentive. &quot;Ah,
+thin,&quot; said his mother, &quot;that villain's the boy for tuckin'
+up soup! The Lord be about him, an' save him alive to me,&mdash;the
+crayter ! . . . An' there's little curly there,&mdash;the rogue! Sure
+he'll take as much soup as any wan o' them. Maybe he wouldn't laugh
+to see a big bowl forninst him this day.&quot; &quot;It's very well
+they have such good spirits,&quot; said the visitor. &quot;So it is,&quot;
+replies the woman, &quot;so it is, for God knows it's little else they
+have to keep them warm thim bad times.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The next house we called at in Walker's Court was much like the first
+in appearance&mdash;very little left but the walls, and that little,
+such as none but the neediest would pick up, if it was thrown out to
+the streets. The only person in the place was a pale, crippled woman;
+her sick head, lapped in a poor white clout, swayed languidly to and
+fro. Besides being a cripple, she had been ill six years, and now her
+husband, also, was taken ill. He had just crept off to fetch medicine
+for the two. We did not stop here long. The hand of the Ancient Master
+was visible in that pallid face; those sunken eyes, so full of deathly
+langour, seemed to be wandering about in dim, flickering gazes, upon
+the confines of an unknown world. I think that woman will soon be &quot;where
+the weary are at rest.&quot; As we came out, she said, slowly, and in
+broken, painful utterances, that &quot;she hoped the Lord would open
+the heavens for those who had helped them.&quot; A little lower down
+the court, we peeped in at two other doorways. The people were well
+known to my companion, who has the charge of visiting this part of the
+ward. Leaning against the door-cheek of one of these dim, unwholesome
+hovels, he said, &quot;Well, missis; how are you getting on?&quot; There
+was a tall, thin woman inside. She seemed to be far gone in some exhausting
+illness. With slow difficulty she rose to her feet, and, setting her
+hands to her sides, gasped out, &quot;My coals are done.&quot; He made
+a note, and said, I'll send you some more.&quot; Her other wants were
+regularly seen to on a certain day every week. Ours was an accidental
+visit. We now turned up to another nook of the court, where my companion
+told me there was a very bad case. He found the door fast. We looked
+through the window into that miserable man-nest. It was cold, gloomy,
+and bare. As Corrigan says, in the &quot;Colleen Bawn,&quot; &quot;There
+was nobody in&mdash;but the fire&mdash;and that was gone out.&quot;
+As we came away, a stalwart Irishman met us at a turn of the court,
+and said to my companion, &quot;Sure, ye didn't visit this house.&quot;
+&quot; Not to-day;&quot; replied the visitor. &quot;I'll come and see
+you at the usual time.&quot; The people in this house were not so badly
+off as some others. We came down the steps of the court into the fresher
+air of Friargate again.</p>
+<p>Our next walk was to Heatley Street. As we passed by a cluster of
+starved loungers, we overheard one of them saying to another, &quot;Sitho,
+yon's th' soup-maister, gooin' a-seein' somebry.&quot; Our time was
+getting short, so we only called at one house in Heatley Street, where
+there was a family of eleven&mdash;a decent family, a well-kept and
+orderly household, though now stript almost to the bare ground of all
+worldly possession, sold, bitterly, piecemeal, to help to keep the bare
+life together, as sweetly as possible, till better days. The eldest
+son is twenty-seven years of age. The whole family has been out of work
+for the last seventeen weeks, and before that, they had been working
+only short time for seven months. For thirteen weeks they had lived
+upon less than one shilling a head per week, and I am not sure that
+they did not pay the rent out of that; and now the income of the whole
+eleven is under 16s., with rent to pay. In this house they hold weekly
+prayer-meetings. Thin picking&mdash;one shilling a week, or less&mdash;for
+all expenses, for one person. It is easier to write about it than to
+feel what it means, unless one has tried it for three or four months.
+Just round the corner from Heatley Street, we stopped at the open door
+of a very little cottage. A good-looking young Irishwoman sat there,
+upon a three-legged stool, suckling her child. She was clean; and had
+an intelligent look. &quot;Let's see, missis,&quot; said the visitor,
+&quot;what do you pay for this nook?&quot; &quot;We pay eighteenpence
+a week&mdash;and they <i>will</i> have it&mdash;my word.&quot; &quot;Well,
+an' what income have you now?&quot; &quot;We have eighteenpence a head
+in the week, an' the rent to pay out o' that, or else they'll turn us
+out.&quot; Of course, the visitor knew that this was true; but he wanted
+me to hear the people speak for themselves. &quot;Let's see, Missis
+Burns, your husband's name is Patrick, isn't it?&quot; &quot; Yes, sir;
+Patrick Burns.&quot; &quot;What! Patrick Burns, the famous foot-racer?&quot;
+The little woman smiled bashfully, and replied, &quot;Yes, sir; I suppose
+it is.&quot; With respect to what the woman said about having to pay
+her rent or turn out, I may remark, in passing, that I have not hitherto
+met with an instance in which any millowner, or wealthy man, having
+cottage property, has pressed the unemployed poor for rent. But it is
+well to remember that there is a great amount of cottage property in
+Preston, as in other manufacturing towns, which belongs to the more
+provident class of working men. These working men, now hard pressed
+by the general distress, have been compelled to fall back upon their
+little rentals, clinging to them as their last independent means of
+existence. They are compelled to this, for, if they cannot get work,
+they cannot get anything else, having property. These are becoming fewer,
+however, from day to day. The poorest are hanging a good deal upon those
+a little less poor than themselves; and every link in the lengthening
+chain of neediness is helping to pull down the one immediately above
+it. There is, also, a considerable amount of cottage property in Preston,
+belonging to building societies, which have enough to do to hold their
+own just now. And then there is always some cottage property in the
+hands of agents.</p>
+<p>Leaving Heatley Street, we went to a place called &quot;Seed's Yard.&quot;
+Here we called upon a clean old stately widow, with a calm, sad face.
+She had been long known, and highly respected, in a good street, not
+far off, where she had lived for twenty-four years, in fair circumstances,
+until lately. She had always owned a good houseful of furniture; but,
+after making bitter meals upon the gradual wreck of it, she had been
+compelled to break up that house, and retire with her five children
+to lodge with a lone widow in this little cot, not over three yards
+square, in &quot;Seed's Yard,&quot; one of those dark corners into which
+decent poverty is so often found now, creeping unwillingly away from
+the public eye, in the hope of weathering the storm of adversity, in
+penurious independence. The old woman never would accept relief from
+the parish, although the whole family had been out of work for many
+months. One of the daughters, a clean, intelligent-looking young woman,
+about eighteen, sat at the table, eating a little bread and treacle
+to a cup of light-coloured tea, when we went in; but she blushed, and
+left off until we had gone&mdash;which was not long after. It felt almost
+like sacrilege to peer thus into the privacies of such people; but I
+hope they did not feel as if it had been done offensively. We called
+next at the cottage of a hand-loom weaver&mdash;a poor trade now in
+the best of times&mdash;a very poor trade&mdash;since the days when
+tattered old &quot;Jem Ceawp&quot; sung his pathetic song of &quot;Jone
+o' Greenfeelt&quot;&mdash;</p>
+<p>&quot;Aw'm a poor cotton weighver, as ony one knows;<br />We'n no
+meight i'th heawse, an' we'n worn eawt er clothes;<br />We'n live't
+upo nettles, while nettles were good;<br />An' Wayterloo porritch is
+th' most of er food;<br />This clemmin' and starvin',<br />Wi' never
+a farthin'&mdash;<br />It's enough to drive ony mon mad.&quot;</p>
+<p>This family was four in number&mdash;man, wife, and two children.
+They had always lived near to the ground, for the husband's earnings
+at the loom were seldom more than 7s. for a full week. The wife told
+us that they were not receiving any relief, for she said that when her
+husband &quot;had bin eawt o' wark a good while he turn't his hond to
+shaving;&quot; and in this way the ingenious struggling fellow had scraped
+a thin living for them during many months. &quot;But,&quot; said she,
+&quot; it brings varra little in, we hev to trust so much. He shaves
+four on 'em for a haw-penny, an' there's a deal on 'em connot pay that.
+Yo know, they're badly off&mdash;(the woman seemed to think her circumstances
+rather above the common kind); an' then,&quot; continued she, &quot;when
+they'n run up a shot for three-hawpence or twopence or so, they cannot
+pay it o' no shap, an' so they stoppen away fro th' shop. They cannot
+for shame come, that's heaw it is; so we lose'n their custom till sich
+times as summat turns up at they can raise a trifle to pay up wi'. .
+. . He has nobbut one razzor, but it'll be like to do.&quot; Hearken
+this, oh, ye spruce Figaros of the city, who trim the clean, crisp whiskers
+of the well-to-do! Hearken this, ye dainty perruquiers, &quot;who look
+so brisk, and smell so sweet,&quot; and have such an exquisite knack
+of chirruping, and lisping, and sliding over the smooth edge of the
+under lip,&mdash;and, sometimes, agreeably too,&mdash;&quot;an infinite
+deal of nothing,&quot;&mdash;ye who clip and anoint the hair of Old
+England's curled darlings! Eight chins a penny; and three months' credit!
+A bodle a piece for mowing chins overgrown with hair like pin-wire,
+and thick with dust; how would you like that? How would you get through
+it all, with a family of four, and only one razor? The next place we
+called at was what my friend described, in words that sounded to me,
+somehow, like melancholy irony,&mdash;as &quot;a poor provision shop.&quot;
+It was, indeed, a poor shop for provender. In the window, it is true,
+there were four or five empty glasses, where children's spice had once
+been. There was a little deal shelf here and there; but there were neither
+sand, salt, whitening, nor pipes. There was not the ghost of a farthing
+candle, nor a herring, nor a marble, nor a match, nor of any other thing,
+sour or sweet, eatable or saleable for other uses, except one small
+mug full of buttermilk up in a corner&mdash;the last relic of a departed
+trade, like the &quot;one rose of the wilderness, left on its stalk
+to mark where a garden has been.&quot; But I will say more about this
+in the next chapter.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Returning to the little shop mentioned in my last&mdash;the &quot;little
+provision shop,&quot; where there was nothing left to eat&mdash;nothing,
+indeed, of any kind, except one mug of buttermilk, and a miserable remnant
+of little empty things, which nobody would buy; four or five glass bottles
+in the window, two or three poor deal shelves, and a doleful little
+counter, rudely put together, and looking as if it felt, now, that there
+was nothing in the world left for it but to become chips at no distant
+date. Everything in the place had a sad, subdued look, and seemed conscious
+of having come down in the world, without hope of ever rising again;
+even the stript walls appeared to look at one another with a stony gaze
+of settled despair. But there was a clean, matronly woman in the place,
+gliding about from side to side with a cloth in her hands, and wiping
+first one, then another, of these poor little relics of better days
+in a caressing way. The shop had been her special care when times were
+good, and she clung affectionately to its ruins still. Besides, going
+about cleaning and arranging the little empty things in this way looked
+almost like doing business. But, nevertheless, the woman had a cheerful,
+good-humoured countenance. The sunshine of hope was still warm in her
+heart; though there was a touch of pathos in the way she gave the little
+rough counter another kindly wipe now and then, as if she wished to
+keep its spirits up; and in the way she looked, now at the buttermilk
+mug, then at the open door, and then at the four glass bottles in the
+window, which had been gazed at so oft and so eagerly by little children
+outside, in the days when spice was in them. . . . The husband came
+in from the little back room. He was a hardy, frank-looking man, and,
+like his wife, a trifle past middle age, I thought; but he had nothing
+to say, as he stood there with his wife, by the counter side. She answered
+our questions freely and simply, and in an uncomplaining way, not making
+any attempt to awaken sympathy by enlarging upon the facts of their
+condition. Theirs was a family of seven&mdash;man, wife, and five children.
+The man was a spinner; and his thrifty wife had managed the little shop,
+whilst he worked at the mill. There are many striving people among the
+factory operatives, who help up the family earnings by keeping a little
+shop in this way. But this family was another of those instances in
+which working people have been pulled down by misfortune before the
+present crisis came on. Just previous to the mills beginning to work
+short time, four of their five children had been lying ill, all at once,
+for five months; and, before that trouble befell them, one of the lads
+had two of his fingers taken off, whilst working at the factory, and
+so was disabled a good while. It takes little additional weight to sink
+those whose chins are only just above water; and these untoward circumstances
+oiled the way of this struggling family to the ground, before the mills
+stopped. A few months' want of work, with their little stock of shop
+stuff oozing away&mdash;partly on credit to their poor neighbours, and
+partly to live upon themselves &mdash;and they become destitute of all,
+except a few beggarly remnants of empty shop furniture. Looking round
+the place, I said,&quot; Well, missis, how's trade?&quot; &quot;Oh,
+brisk,&quot; said she; and then the man and his wife smiled at one another.
+&quot;Well,&quot; said I, &quot;yo'n sowd up, I see, heawever.&quot;
+&quot;Ay,&quot; answered she, &quot;we'n sowd up, for sure&mdash;a good
+while sin';&quot; and then she smiled again, as if she thought she had
+said a clever thing. They had been receiving relief from the parish
+several weeks; but she told me that some ill-natured neighbour had &quot;set
+it eawt,&quot; that they had sold off their stock out of the shop, and
+put the money into the bank. Through this report, the Board of Guardians
+had &quot;knocked off&quot; their relief for a fortnight, until the
+falsity of the report was made clear. After that, the Board gave orders
+for the man and his wife and three of the children to be admitted to
+the workhouse, leaving the other two lads, who were working at the &quot;Stone
+Yard,&quot; to &quot;fend for theirsels,&quot; and find new nests wherever
+they could. This, however, was overruled afterwards; and the family
+is still holding together in the empty shop,&mdash;receiving from all
+sources, work and relief, about 13s. a week for the seven,&mdash;not
+bad, compared with the income of very many others. It is sad to think
+how many poor families get sundered and scattered about the world in
+a time like this, never to meet again. And the false report respecting
+this family in the little shop, reminds me that the poor are not always
+kind to the poor. I learnt, from a gentleman who is Secretary to the
+Relief Committee of one of the wards, that it is not uncommon for the
+committees to receive anonymous letters, saying that so and so is unworthy
+of relief, on some ground or other. These complaints were generally
+found to be either wholly false, or founded upon some mistake. I have
+three such letters now before me. The first, written on a torn scrap
+of ruled paper, runs thus:&mdash;&quot;May 19th, 1862.&mdash;If you
+please be so kind as to look after __ Back Newton Street Formerly a
+Resident of __ as i think he is not Deserving Relief.&mdash;A Ratepayer.&quot;
+In each case I give the spelling, and everything else, exactly as in
+the originals before me, except the names. The next of these epistles
+says:&mdash;&quot;Preston, May 29th.&mdash;Sir, I beg to inform you
+that __, of Park Road, in receipt from the Relief Fund, is a very unworthy
+person, having worked two days since the 16 and drunk the remainder
+and his wife also; for the most part, he has plenty of work for himself
+his wife and a journeyman but that is their regular course of life.
+And the S___s have all their family working full time. Yours respectfully.&quot;
+These last two are anonymous. The next is written in a very good hand,
+upon a square piece of very blue writing paper. It has a name attached,
+but no address:&mdash;&quot;Preston, June 2nd, 1862.&mdash;Mr. Dunn,&mdash;Dear
+Sir, Would you please to inquire into the case of __, of __. the are
+a family of 3 the man work four or more days per week on the moor the
+woman works 6 days per week at Messrs Simpsons North Road the third
+is a daughter 13 or 14 should be a weaver but to lasey she has good
+places such as Mr. Hollins and Horrocks and Millers as been sent a way
+for being to lasey. the man and woman very fond of drink. I as a Nabour
+and a subscriber do not think this a proper case for your charity. Yours
+truly, __.&quot; The committee could not find out the writer of this,
+although a name is given. Such things as these need no comment.</p>
+<p>The next house we called at was inhabited by an old widow and her
+only daughter. The daughter had been grievously afflicted with disease
+of the heart, and quite incapable of helping herself during the last
+eleven years. The poor worn girl sat upon an old tattered kind of sofa,
+near the fire, panting for breath in the close atmosphere. She sat there
+in feverish helplessness, sallow and shrunken, and unable to bear up
+her head. It was a painful thing to look at her. She had great difficulty
+in uttering a few words. I can hardly guess what her age may be now;
+I should think about twenty-five. Mr Toulmin, one of the visitors who
+accompanied me to the place, reminded the young woman of his having
+called upon them there more than four years ago, to leave some bedding
+which had been bestowed upon an old woman by a certain charity in the
+town. He saw no more of them after that, until the present hard times
+began, when he was deputed by the Relief Committee to call at that distressed
+corner amongst others in his own neighbourhood; and when he first opened
+the door, after a lapse of four years, he was surprised to find the
+same young woman, sitting in the same place, gasping painfully for breath,
+as he had last seen her. The old widow had just been able to earn what
+kept soul and body together in her sick girl and herself, during the
+last eleven years, by washing and such like work. But even this resource
+had fallen away a good deal during these bad times; there are so many
+poor creatures like herself, driven to extremity, and glad to grasp
+at any little bit of employment which can be had. In addition to what
+the old woman could get by a day's washing now and then, she received
+1s. 6d. a week from the parish. Think of the poor old soul trailing
+about the world, trying to &quot;scratch a living&quot; for herself
+and her daughter by washing; and having to hurry home from her labour
+to attend to that sick girl through eleven long years. Such a life is
+a good deal like a slow funeral. It is struggling for a few breaths
+more, with the worms crawling over you. And yet I am told that the old
+woman was not accustomed to &quot;make a poor mouth,&quot; as the saying
+goes. How true it is that &quot;a great many people in this world have
+only one form of rhetoric for their profoundest experiences, namely&mdash;to
+waste away and die.&quot;</p>
+<p>Our next visit was to an Irish family. There was an old woman in,
+and a flaxen-headed lad about ten years of age. She was sitting upon
+a low chair,&mdash;the only seat in the place,&mdash;and the tattered
+lad was kneeling on the ground before her, whilst she combed his hair
+out. &quot;Well, missis, how are you getting on amongst it?&quot; &quot;Oh,
+well, then, just middlin', Mr T. Ye see, I am busy combin' this boy's
+hair a bit, for 'tis gettin' like a wisp o' hay.&quot; There was not
+a vestige of furniture in the cottage, except the chair the old woman
+sat on. She said, &quot;I did sell the childer's bedstead for 2s. 6d.;
+an' after that I sold the bed from under them for 1s. 6d., just to keep
+them from starvin' to death. The childer had been two days without mate
+then, an' faith I couldn't bear it any longer. After that I did sell
+the big pan, an' then the new rockin' chair, an' so on, one thing after
+another, till all wint entirely, barrin' this I am sittin' on, an' they
+wint for next to nothin' too. Sure, I paid 9s. 6d. for the bed itself,
+which was sold for 1s. 6d. We all sleep on straw now.&quot; This family
+was seven in number. The mill at which they used to work had been stopped
+about ten months. One of the family had found employment at another
+mill, three months out of the ten, and the old man himself had got a
+few days' work in that time. The rest of the family had been wholly
+unemployed, during the ten months. Except the little money this work
+brought in, and a trifle raised now and then by the sale of a bit of
+furniture when hunger and cold pressed them hard, the whole family had
+been living upon 5s. a week for the last ten months. The rent was running
+on. The eldest daughter was twenty-eight years of age. As we came away
+Mr Toulmin said to me, &quot;Well, I have called at that house regularly
+for the last sixteen weeks, and this is the first time I ever saw a
+fire in the place. But the old man has got two days' work this week&mdash;that
+may account for the fire.&quot;</p>
+<p>It was now close upon half-past seven in the evening, at which time
+I had promised to call upon the Secretary of the Trinity Ward Relief
+Committee, whose admirable letter in the <i>London Times</i>, attracted
+so much attention about a month ago. I met several members of the committee
+at his lodgings, and we had an hour's interesting conversation. I learnt
+that, in cases of sickness arising from mere weakness, from poorness
+of diet, or from unsuitableness of the food commonly provided by the
+committee, orders were now issued for such kind of &quot;kitchen physic&quot;
+as was recommended by the doctors. The committee had many cases of this
+kind. One instance was mentioned, in which, by the doctor's advice,
+four ounces of mutton chop daily had been ordered to be given to a certain
+sick man, until further notice. The thing went on and was forgotten,
+until one day, when the distributor of food said to the committeeman
+who had issued the order, &quot;I suppose I must continue that daily
+mutton chop to so-and-so?&quot; &quot;Eh, no; he's been quite well two
+months?&quot; The chop had been going on for ninety-five days. We had
+some talk with that class of operatives who are both clean, provident,
+and &quot;heawse-preawd,&quot; as Lancashire folk call it. The Secretary
+told me that he was averse to such people living upon the sale of their
+furniture; and the committee had generally relieved the distress of
+such people, just as if they had no furniture, at all. He mentioned
+the case of a family of factory operatives, who were all fervent lovers
+of music, as so many of the working people of Lancashire are. Whilst
+in full work, they had scraped up money to buy a piano; and, long after
+the ploughshare of ruin had begun to drive over the little household,
+they clung to the darling instrument, which was such a source of pure
+pleasure to them, and they were advised to keep it by the committee
+which relieved them. &quot;Yes,&quot; said another member of the committee,&quot;
+but I called there lately, and the piano's gone at last.&quot; Many
+interesting things came out in the course of our conversation. One mentioned
+a house he had called at, where there was neither chair, table, nor
+bed; and one of the little lads had to hold up a piece of board for
+him to write upon. Another spoke of the difficulties which &quot;lone
+women&quot; have to encounter in these hard times. &quot;I knocked so-and-so
+off my list,&quot; said one of the committee, &quot;till I had inquired
+into an ill report I heard of her. But she came crying to me; and I
+found out that the woman had been grossly belied.&quot; Another (Mr
+Nowell) told of a house on his list, where they had no less than one
+hundred and fifty pawn tickets. He told, also, of a moulder's family,
+who had been all out of work and starving so long, that their poor neighbours
+came at last and recommended the committee to relieve them, as they
+would not apply for relief themselves. They accepted relief just one
+week, and then the man came and said that he had a <i>prospect</i> of
+work; and he shouldn't need relief tickets any longer. It was here that
+I heard so much about anonymous letters, of which I have given you three
+samples. Having said that I should like to see the soup kitchen, one
+of the committee offered to go with me thither at six o'clock the next
+morning; and so I came away from the meeting in the cool twilight.</p>
+<p>Old Preston looked fine to me in the clear air of that declining
+day. I stood a while at the end of the &quot;Bull&quot; gateway. There
+was a comical-looking little knock-kneed fellow in the middle of the
+street &mdash;a wandering minstrel, well known in Preston by the name
+of &quot;Whistling Jack.&quot; There he stood, warbling and waving his
+band, and looking from side to side,&mdash;in vain. At last I got him
+to whistle the &quot;Flowers of Edinburgh.&quot; He did it, vigorously;
+and earned his penny well. But even &quot;Whistling Jack&quot; complained
+of the times. He said Preston folk had &quot;no taste for music.&quot;
+But he assured me the time would come when there would be a monument
+to him in that town.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>About half-past six I found my friend waiting at the end of the &quot;Bull&quot;
+gateway. It was a lovely morning. The air was cool and clear, and the
+sky was bright. It was easy to see which was the way to the soup kitchen,
+by the stragglers going and coming. We passed the famous &quot;Orchard,&quot;
+now a kind of fairground, which has been the scene of so many popular
+excitements in troubled times. All was quiet in the &quot;Orchard&quot;
+that morning, except that, here, a starved-looking woman, with a bit
+of old shawl tucked round her head, and a pitcher in her hand, and there,
+a bare-footed lass, carrying a tin can, hurried across the sunny space
+towards the soup kitchen. We passed a new inn, called &quot;The Port
+Admiral.&quot; On the top of the building there were three life-sized
+statues&mdash;Wellington and Nelson, with the Greek slave between them&mdash;a
+curious companionship. These statues reminded me of a certain Englishman
+riding through Dublin, for the first time, upon an Irish car. &quot;What
+are the three figures yonder?&quot; said he to the car-boy, pointing
+to the top of some public building. &quot;Thim three is the twelve apostles,
+your honour,&quot; answered the driver. &quot;Nay, nay,&quot; said the
+traveller,&quot;that'll not do. How do you make twelve out of three?&quot;
+&quot;Bedad,&quot; replied the driver, &quot;your honour couldn't expect
+the whole twelve to be out at once such a murtherin' wet day as this.&quot;
+But we had other things than these to think of that day. As we drew
+near the baths and washhouses, where the soup kitchen is, the stream
+of people increased. About the gate there was a cluster of melancholy
+loungers, looking cold and hungry. They were neither going in nor going
+away. I was told afterwards that many of these were people who had neither
+money nor tickets for food&mdash;some of them wanderers from town to
+town; anybody may meet them limping, footsore and forlorn, upon the
+roads in Lancashire, just now&mdash;houseless wanderers, who had made
+their way to the soup kitchen to beg a mouthful from those who were
+themselves at death's door. In the best of times there are such wanderers;
+and, in spite of the generous provision made for the relief of the poor,
+there must be, in a time like the present, a great number who let go
+their hold of home (if they have any), and drift away in search of better
+fortune, and, sometimes, into irregular courses of life, never to settle
+more. Entering the yard, we found the wooden sheds crowded with people
+at breakfast&mdash;all ages, from white-haired men, bent with years,
+to eager childhood, yammering over its morning meal, and careless till
+the next nip of hunger came. Here and there a bonny lass had crept into
+the shade with her basin; and there was many a brown-faced man, who
+had been hardened by working upon the moor or at the &quot;stone-yard.&quot;
+&quot;Theer, thae's shap't that at last, as how?&quot; said one of these
+to his friend, who had just finished and stood wiping his mouth complacently.
+&quot;Shap't that,&quot; replied the other, &quot;ay, lad, aw can do
+a ticket and a hafe (three pints of soup) every morning.&quot; Five
+hundred people breakfast in the sheds alone, every day. The soup kitchen
+opens at five in the morning, and there is always a crowd waiting to
+get in. This looks like the eagerness of hunger. I was told that they
+often deliver 3000 quarts of soup at this kitchen in two hours. The
+superintendent of the bread department informed me that, on that morning,
+he had served out two thousand loaves, of 3lb. 11oz. each. There was
+a window at one end, where soup was delivered to such as brought money
+for it instead of tickets. Those who came with tickets&mdash;by far
+the greatest number&mdash;had to pass in single file through a strong
+wooden maze, which restrained their eagerness, and compelled them to
+order. I noticed that only a small proportion of men went through the
+maze; they were mostly women and children. There was many a fine, intelligent
+young face hurried blushing through that maze&mdash;many a bonny lad
+and lass who will be heard of honourably hereafter. The variety of utensils
+presented showed that some of the poor souls had been hard put to it
+for things to fetch their soup in. One brought a pitcher; another a
+bowl; and another a tin can, a world too big for what it had to hold.
+&quot;Yo mun mind th' jug,&quot; said one old woman; &quot;it's cracked,
+an' it's noan o' mine.&quot; &quot;Will ye bring me some?&quot; said
+a little, light-haired lass, holding up her rosy neb to the soupmaster.
+&quot;Aw want a ha'poth,&quot; said a lad with a three-quart can in
+his hand. The benevolent-looking old gentleman who had taken the superintendence
+of the soup department as a labour of love, told me that there had been
+a woman there by half-past five that morning, who had come four miles
+for some coffee. There was a poor fellow breakfasting in the shed at
+the same time; and he gave the woman a thick shive of his bread as she
+went away. He mentioned other instances of the same humane feeling;
+and he said, &quot;After what I have seen of them here, I say, 'Let
+me fall into the hands of the poor.'&quot;</p>
+<p>&quot;They who, half-fed, feed the breadless, in the travail of distress;<br />They
+who, taking from a little, give to those who still have less;<br />They
+who, needy, yet can pity when they look on greater need;<br />These
+are Charity's disciples,&mdash;these are Mercy's sons indeed.&quot;</p>
+<p>We returned to the middle of the town just as the shopkeepers in
+Friargate were beginning to take their shutters down. I had another
+engagement at half-past nine. A member of the Trinity Ward Relief Committee,
+who is master of the Catholic school in that ward, had offered to go
+with me to visit some distressed people who were under his care in that
+part of the town. We left Friargate at the appointed time. As we came
+along there was a crowd in front of Messrs Wards', the fishmongers.
+A fine sturgeon had just been brought in. It had been caught in the
+Ribble that morning. We went in to look at the royal fish. It was six
+feet long, and weighed above a hundred pounds. I don't know that I ever
+saw a sturgeon before. But we had other fish to fry; and so we went
+on. The first place we called at was a cellar in Nile Street. &quot;Here,&quot;
+said my companion, &quot;let us have a look at old John.&quot; A gray-headed
+little man, of seventy, lived down in this one room, sunken from the
+street. He had been married forty years, and if I remember aright, he
+lost his wife about four years ago. Since that time, he had lived in
+this cellar, all alone, washing and cooking for himself. But I think
+the last would not trouble him much, for &quot;they have no need for
+fine cooks who have only one potato to their dinner.&quot; When a lad,
+he had been apprenticed to a bobbin turner. Afterwards he picked up
+some knowledge of engineering; and he had been &quot;well off in his
+day.&quot; He now got a few coppers occasionally from the poor folk
+about, by grinding knives, and doing little tinkering jobs. Under the
+window he had a rude bench, with a few rusty tools upon it, and in one
+corner there was a low, miserable bedstead, without clothing upon it.
+There was one cratchinly chair in the place, too; but hardly anything
+else. He had no fire; be generally went into neighbours' houses to warm
+himself. He was not short of such food as the Relief Committees bestow.
+There was a piece of bread upon the bench, left from his morning meal;
+and the old fellow chirruped about, and looked as blithe as if he was
+up to the middle in clover. He showed us a little thing which he had
+done &quot;for a bit ov a prank.&quot; The number of his cellar was
+8, and he had cut out a large tin figure of 8, a foot long, and nailed
+it upon his door, for the benefit of some of his friends that were getting
+bad in their eyesight, and &quot;couldn't read smo' print so low deawn
+as that.&quot; &quot;Well, John,&quot; said my companion, when we went
+in, &quot;how are you getting on?&quot; &quot;Oh, bravely,&quot; replied
+he, handing a piece of blue paper to the inquirer, &quot;bravely; look
+at that!&quot; Why, this is a summons,&quot; said my companion. &quot;Ay,
+bigad is't, too,&quot; answered the old man. &quot;Never had sich a
+thing i' my life afore! Think o' me gettin' a summons for breakin' windows
+at seventy year owd. A bonny warlock, that, isn't it? Why, th' whole
+street went afore th' magistrates to get mo off.&quot; &quot;Then you
+did get off, John?&quot; &quot;Get off! Sure, aw did. It wur noan o'
+me. It wur a keaw jobber, at did it. . . . Aw'll tell yo what, for two
+pins aw'd frame that summons, an' hang it eawt o' th' window; but it
+would look so impudent.&quot; Old John's wants were inquired into, and
+we left him fiddling among his rusty tools. We next went to a place
+called Hammond's Row&mdash;thirteen poor cottages, side by side. Twelve
+of the thirteen were inhabited by people living, almost entirely, upon
+relief, either from the parish or from the Relief Committee. There was
+only one house where no relief was needed. As we passed by, the doors
+were nearly all open, and the interiors all presented the same monotonous
+phase of destitution. They looked as if they had been sacked by bum-bailiffs.
+The topmost house was the only place where I saw a fire. A family of
+eight lived there. They were Irish people. The wife, a tall, cheerful
+woman, sat suckling her child, and giving a helping hand now and then
+to her husband's work. He was a little, pale fellow, with only one arm,
+and he had an impediment in his speech. He had taken to making cheap
+boxes of thin, rough deal, afterwards covered with paper. With the help
+of his wife he could make one in a day, and he got ninepence profit
+out of it&mdash;when the box was sold. He was working at one when we
+went in, and he twirled it proudly about with his one arm, and stammered
+out a long explanation about the way it had been made; and then he got
+upon the lid, and sprang about a little, to let us see how much it would
+bear. As the brave little tattered man stood there upon the box-lid,
+springing, and sputtering, and waving his one arm, his wife looked up
+at him with a smile, as if she thought him &quot;the greatest wight
+on ground.&quot; There was a little curly-headed child standing by,
+quietly taking in all that was going on. I laid my hand upon her head;
+and asked her what her name was. She popped her thumb into her mouth,
+and looked shyly about from one to another, but never a word could I
+get her to say. &quot;That's Lizzy,&quot; said the woman; &quot;she
+is a little visitor belongin' to one o' the neighbours. They are badly
+off, and she often comes in. Sure, our childer is very fond of her,
+an' so she is of them. She is fine company wid ourselves, but always
+very shy wid strangers. Come now, Lizzy, darlin'; tell us your name,
+love, won't you, now?&quot; But it was no use; we couldn't get her to
+speak. In the next cottage where we called, in this row, there was a
+woman washing. Her mug was standing upon a stool in the middle of the
+floor; and there was not any other thing in the place in the shape of
+furniture or household utensil. The walls were bare of everything, except
+a printed paper, bearing these words:</p>
+<p>&quot;The wages of sin is death. But the gift of God is eternal life,
+through Jesus Christ our Lord.&quot; We now went to another street,
+and visited the cottage of a blind chairmaker, called John Singleton.
+He was a kind of oracle among the poor folk of the neighbourhood. The
+old chairmaker was sitting by the fire when we went in; and opposite
+to him sat &quot;Old John,&quot; the hero of the broken windows in Nile
+Street. He had come up to have a crack with his blind crony. The chairmaker
+was seventy years of age, and he had benefited by the advantage of good
+fundamental instruction in his youth. He was very communicative. He
+said he should have been educated for the priesthood, at Stonyhurst
+College. &quot;My clothes were made, an' everything was ready for me
+to start to Stonyhurst. There was a stagecoach load of us going; but
+I failed th' heart, an' wouldn't go&mdash;an' I've forethought ever
+sin'. Mr Newby said to my friends at the same time, he said, 'You don't
+need to be frightened of him; he'll make the brightest priest of all
+the lot&mdash;an' I should, too. . . . I consider mysel' a young man
+yet, i' everything, except it be somethin' at's uncuth to me.&quot;
+And now, old John, the grinder, began to complain again of how badly
+he had been used about the broken windows in Nile Street. But the old
+chairmaker stopped him; and, turning up his blind eyes, he said, &quot;John,
+don't you be foolish. Bother no moor abeawt it. All things has but a
+time.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>A man cannot go wrong in Trinity Ward just now, if he wants to see
+poor folk. He may find them there at any time, but now he cannot help
+but meet them; and nobody can imagine how badly off they are, unless
+he goes amongst them. They are biding the hard time out wonderfully
+well, and they will do so to the end. They certainly have not more than
+a common share of human frailty. There are those who seem to think that
+when people are suddenly reduced to poverty, they should become suddenly
+endowed with the rarest virtues; but it never was so, and, perhaps,
+never will be so long as the world rolls. In my rambles about this ward,
+I was astonished at the dismal succession of destitute homes, and the
+number of struggling owners of little shops, who were watching their
+stocks sink gradually down to nothing, and looking despondingly at the
+cold approach of pauperism. I was astonished at the strings of dwellings,
+side by side, stript, more or less, of the commonest household utensils&mdash;the
+poor little bare houses, often crowded with lodgers, whose homes had
+been broken up elsewhere; sometimes crowded, three or four families
+of decent working people in a cottage of half-a-crown a-week rental;
+sleeping anywhere, on benches or on straw, and afraid to doff their
+clothes at night time because they had no other covering. Now and then
+the weekly visitor comes to the door of a house where he has regularly
+called. He lifts the latch, and finds the door locked. He looks in at
+the window. The house is empty, and the people are gone&mdash;the Lord
+knows where. Who can tell what tales of sorrow will have their rise
+in the pressure of a time like this&mdash;tales that will never be written,
+and that no statistics will reveal.</p>
+<p>Trinity Ward swarms with factory operatives; and, after our chat
+with blind John, the chairmaker, and his ancient crony the grinder from
+Nile Street, we set off again to see something more of them. Fitful
+showers came down through the day, and we had to shelter now and then.
+In one cottage, where we stopped a few minutes, the old woman told us
+that, in addition to their own family, they had three young women living
+with them&mdash;the orphan daughters of her husband's brother. They
+had been out of work thirty-four weeks, and their uncle&mdash;a very
+poor man&mdash;had been obliged to take them into his house, &quot;till
+sich times as they could afford to pay for lodgin's somewheer else.&quot;
+My companion asked whether they were all out of work still. &quot;Naw,&quot;
+replied the old woman, &quot;one on 'em has getten on to wortch a few
+days for t' sick (that is, in the place of some sick person). Hoo's
+wortchin' i' th' cardreawn at 'Th' Big-un.'&quot; (This is the name
+they give to Messrs Swainson and Birley's mill.)</p>
+<p>The next place we called at was the house of an old joiner. He was
+lying very ill upstairs. As we drew up to the door, my companion said,
+&quot;Now, this is a clean, respectable family. They have struggled
+hard and suffered a great deal, before they would ask for relief.&quot;
+When we went in, the wife was cleaning her well-nigh empty house. &quot;Eh,&quot;
+said she,&quot; I thought it wur th' clubman comin', an' I wur just
+goin' to tell him that I had nothin' for him.&quot; The family was seven
+in number&mdash;man, wife, and five children. The husband, as I have
+said, was lying ill. The wife told me that they had only 6s. a-week
+coming in for the seven to live upon. My companion was the weekly visitor
+who relieved them. She told me that her husband was sixty-eight years
+old; she was not forty. She said that her husband was not strong, and
+he had been going nearly barefoot and &quot;clemmed&quot; all through
+last winter, and she was afraid he had got his death of cold. They had
+not a bed left to lie upon. &quot;My husband,&quot; said she,&quot;was
+a master joiner once, an' was doin' very well. But you see how we are
+now.&quot; There were two portraits&mdash;oil paintings&mdash;hanging
+against the wall. &quot;Whose portraits are these?&quot; said I. &quot;Well;
+that's my master&mdash;an' this is me,&quot; replied she. &quot;He would
+have 'em taken some time since. I couldn't think o' sellin' 'em; or
+else, yo see, we've sold nearly everything we had. I did try to pawn
+'em, too, thinkin' we could get 'em back again when things came round;
+but, I can assure yo, I couldn't find a broker anywhere that would tak'
+'em in.&quot; &quot;Well, Missis,&quot; said my companion, &quot;yo
+have one comfort; you are always clean.&quot; &quot;Eh, bless yo!&quot;
+replied she, &quot;I couldn't live among dirt! My husban' tells me that
+I clean all the luck away; but aw'm sure there's no luck i' filth; if
+there is, anybody may tak' it for me.&quot;</p>
+<p>The rain had stopt again; and after my friend had made a note respecting
+some additional relief for the family, we bade the woman good day. We
+had not gone far before a little ragged lass looked up admiringly at
+two pinks I had stuck in my buttonhole, and holding up her hand, said,
+&quot;Eh, gi' me a posy!&quot; My friend pointed to one of the cottages
+we passed, and said that the last time he called there, he found the
+family all seated round a large bowl of porridge, made of Indian meal.
+This meal is sold at a penny a pound. He stopped at another cottage
+and said, &quot;Here's a house where I always find them reading when
+I call. I know the people very well.&quot; He knocked and tried the
+latch, but there was nobody in. As we passed an open door, the pleasant
+smell of oatcake baking came suddenly upon me. It woke up many memories
+of days gone by. I saw through the window a stout, meal-dusted old woman,
+busy with her wooden ladle and baking-shovel at a brisk oven. &quot;Now,
+I should like to look in there for a minute or two, if it can be done,&quot;
+said I. &quot;Well,&quot; replied my friend, &quot;this woman is not
+on our books; she gets her own living in the way you see. But come in;
+it will be all right; I know her very well.&quot; I was glad of that,
+for I wanted to have a chat with her, and to peep at the baking. &quot;Good
+morning, Missis,&quot; said he; &quot;how are you?&quot; &quot;Why,
+just in a middlin' way.&quot; &quot;How long is this wet weather going
+to last, think you?&quot; &quot;Nay, there ye hev me fast;&mdash;but
+what brings ye here this mornin'?&quot; said the old woman, resting
+the end of her ladle on the little counter; &quot;I never trouble sic
+like chaps as ye.&quot; &quot;No, no,&quot; replied my friend; &quot;we
+have not called about anything of that kind.&quot; &quot;What, then,
+pray ye?&quot; &quot;Well, my friend, here, is almost a stranger in
+Preston; and as soon as ever he smelt the baking, he said he should
+like to see it, so I took the liberty of bringing him in.&quot; &quot;Oh,
+ay; come in, an' welcome. Ye're just i' time, too; for I've bin sat
+at t' back to sarra (serve) t' pigs.&quot; &quot;You're not a native
+of Lancashire, Missis,&quot; said I. &quot;Why, wheer then? come, now;
+let's be knowin', as ye're so sharp.&quot; &quot;Cumberland,&quot; said
+I. &quot;Well, now; ye're reight, sewer enough. But how did ye find
+it out, now?&quot; &quot;Why, you said that you had been out to sarra
+t' pigs. A native of Lancashire would have said 'serve' instead of 'sarra.'&quot;
+&quot;Well, that's varra queer; for I've bin a lang time away from my
+awn country. But, whereivver do ye belang to, as ye're so bowd wi' me?&quot;
+said she, smiling, and turning over a cake which was baking upon the
+oven. I told her that I was born a few miles from Manchester. &quot;Manchester!
+never, sewer;&quot; said she, resting her ladle again; &quot;why, I
+lived ever so long i' Manchester when I was young. I was cook at th'
+Swan i' Shudehill, aboon forty year sin.&quot; She said that, in those
+days, the Swan, in Shudehill, was much frequented by the commercial
+men of Manchester. It was a favourite dining house for them. Many of
+them even brought their own beefsteak on a skewer; and paid a penny
+for the cooking of it. She said she always liked Manchester very well;
+but she had not been there for a good while. &quot;But,&quot; said she,
+&quot;ye'll hev plenty o' oatcake theer&mdash;sartin.&quot; &quot;Not
+much, now,&quot; replied I; &quot;it's getting out o' fashion.&quot;
+I told her that we had to get it once a week from a man who came all
+the way from Stretford into Manchester, with a large basketful upon
+his head, crying &quot;Woat cakes, two a penny!&quot; &quot;Two a penny!&quot;
+said she; &quot;why, they'll not be near as big as these, belike.&quot;
+&quot;Not quite,&quot; replied I. &quot;Not quite! naw; not hauf t'
+size, aw warnd! Why, th' poor fellow desarves his brass iv he niver
+gev a farthin' for th' stuff to mak 'eni on. What! I knaw what oatcake
+bakin' is.&quot;</p>
+<p>Leaving the canny old Cumberland woman at her baking, we called at
+a cottage in Everton Gardens. It was as clean as a gentleman's parlour;
+but there was no furniture in sight except a table, and, upon the table,
+a fine bush of fresh hawthorn blossom, stuck in a pint jug full of water.
+Here, I heard again the common story&mdash;they had been several months
+out of work; their household goods had dribbled away in ruinous sales,
+for something to live upon; and now, they had very little left but the
+walls. The little woman said to me, &quot;Bless yo, there is at thinks
+we need'n nought, becose we keepen a daycent eawtside. But, I know my
+own know abeawt that. Beside, one doesn't like to fill folk's meawths,
+iv one is ill off.&quot;</p>
+<p>It was now a little past noon, and we spent a few minutes looking
+through the Catholic schoolhouse, in Trinity Ward&mdash;a spacious brick
+building. The scholars were away at dinner. My friend is master of the
+school. His assistant offered to go with us to one or two Irish families
+in a close wynd, hard by, called Wilkie's Court. In every case I had
+the great advantage of being thus accompanied by gentlemen who were
+friendly and familiar with the poor we visited. This was a great facility
+to me. Wilkie's Court is a little <i>cul de sac</i>, with about half-a-dozen
+wretched cottages in it, fronted by a dead wall. The inhabitants of
+the place are all Irish. They were nearly all kept alive by relief from
+one source or other; but their poverty was not relieved by that cleanliness
+which I had witnessed in so many equally poor houses, making the best
+use of those simple means of comfort which are invaluable, although
+they cost little or nothing. In the first house we called at, a middle-aged
+woman was pacing slowly about the unwholesome house with a child in
+her arms. My friend inquired where the children were. &quot;They are
+in the houses about; all but the one poor boy.&quot; &quot;And where
+is he?&quot; said I. &quot;Well, he comes home now an' agin; he comes
+an' goes; sure, we don't know how. . . . Ah, thin, sir,&quot; continued
+she, beginning to cry, &quot;I'll tell ye the rale truth, now. He was
+drawn away by some bad lads, an' he got three months in the New Bailey;
+that's God's truth. . . . Ah, what'll I do wid him,&quot; said she,
+bursting into tears afresh; &quot;what'll I do wid him? sure, he is
+my own!&quot; We did not stop long to intrude upon such trouble as this.
+She called out as we came away to tell us that the poor crayter next
+door was quite helpless. The next house was, in some respects, more
+comfortable than the last, though it was quite as poor in household
+goods. There was one flimsy deal table, one little chair, and two half-penny
+pictures of Catholic saints pinned against the wall. &quot;Sure, I sold
+the other table since you wor here before,&quot; said the woman to my
+friend; &quot;I sold it for two-an'-aightpence, an' bought this one
+for sixpence.&quot; At the house of another Irish family, my friend
+inquired where all the chairs were gone. &quot;Oh,&quot; said a young
+woman,&quot; the baillies did fetch uvverything away, barrin' the one
+sate, when we were livin' in Lancaster Street.&quot; &quot;Where do
+you all sit now, then?&quot; &quot;My mother sits there,&quot; replied
+she, &quot;an' we sit upon the flure.&quot; &quot;I heard they were
+goin' to sell these heawses,&quot; said one of the lads, &quot;but,
+begorra,&quot; continued he, with a laugh, &quot;I wouldn't wonder did
+they sell the ground from under us next.&quot; In the course of our
+visitation a thunder storm came on, during which we took shelter with
+a poor widow woman, who had a plateful of steeped peas for sale, in
+the window. She also dealt in rags and bones in a small way, and so
+managed to get a living, as she said, &quot;beawt troublin' onybody
+for charity.&quot; She said it was a thing that folk had to wait a good
+deal out in the cold for.</p>
+<p>It was market-day, and there were many country people in Preston.
+On my way back to the middle of the town, I called at an old inn, in
+Friargate, where I listened with pleasure a few minutes to the old-fashioned
+talk of three farmers from the Fylde country. Their conversation was
+principally upon cow-drinks. One of them said there was nothing in the
+world like &quot;peppermint tay an' new butter&quot; for cows that had
+the belly-ache. &quot;They'll be reet in a varra few minutes at after
+yo gotten that into 'em,&quot; said he. As evening came on the weather
+settled into one continuous shower, and I left Preston in the heavy
+rain, weary, and thinking of what I had seen during the day. Since then
+I have visited the town again, and I shall say something about that
+visit hereafter.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The rain had been falling heavily through the night. It was raw and
+gusty, and thick clouds were sailing wildly overhead, as I went to the
+first train for Preston. It was that time of morning when there is a
+lull in the streets of Manchester, between six and eight. The &quot;knocker-up&quot;
+had shouldered his long wand, and paddled home to bed again; and the
+little stalls, at which the early workman stops for his half-penny cup
+of coffee, were packing up. A cheerless morning, and the few people
+that were about looked damp and low spirited. I bought the day's paper,
+and tried to read it, as we flitted by the glimpses of dirty garret-life,
+through the forest of chimneys, gushing forth their thick morning fumes
+into the drizzly air, and over the dingy web of Salford streets. We
+rolled on through Pendleton, where the country is still trying to look
+green here and there, under increasing difficulties; but it was not
+till we came to where the green vale of Clifton open out, that I became
+quite reconciled to the weather. Before we were well out of sight of
+the ancient tower of Prestwich Church, the day brightened a little.
+The shifting folds of gloomy cloud began to glide asunder, and through
+the gauzy veils which lingered in the interspaces, there came a dim
+radiance which lighted up the rain-drops &quot;lingering on the pointed
+thorns;&quot; and the tall meadow grasses were swaying to and fro with
+their loads of liquid pearls, in courtesies full of exquisite grace,
+as we whirled along. I enjoyed the ride that raw morning, although the
+sky was all gloom again long before we came in sight of the Ribble.</p>
+<p>I met my friend, in Preston, at half-past nine; and we started at
+once for another ramble amongst the poor, in a different part of Trinity
+Ward. We went first to a little court, behind Bell Street. There is
+only one house in the court, and it is known as &quot;Th' Back Heawse.&quot;
+In this cottage the little house-things had escaped the ruin which I
+had witnessed in so many other places. There were two small tables,
+and three chairs; and there were a few pots and a pan or two. Upon the
+cornice there were two pot spaniels, and two painted stone apples; and,
+between them, there was a sailor waving a union jack, and a little pudgy
+pot man, for holding tobacco. On the windowsill there was a musk-plant;
+and, upon the table by the staircase, there was a rude cage, containing
+three young throstles. The place was tidy; and there was a kind-looking
+old couple inside. The old man stood at the table in the middle of the
+floor, washing the pots, and the old woman was wiping them, and putting
+them away. A little lad sat by the fire, thwittling at a piece of stick.
+The old man spoke very few words the whole time we were there, but he
+kept smiling and going on with his washing. The old woman was very civil,
+and rather shy at first; but we soon got into free talk together. She
+told me that she had borne thirteen children. Seven of them were dead;
+and the other six were all married, and all poor. &quot;I have one son,&quot;
+said she; &quot;he's a sailmaker. He's th' best off of any of 'em. But,
+Lord bless yo; he's not able to help us. He gets very little, and he
+has to pay a woman to nurse his sick wife. . . . This lad that's here,&mdash;he's
+a little grandson o' mine; he's one of my dowter's childer. He brings
+his meight with him every day, an' sleeps with us. They han bod one
+bed, yo see. His father hasn't had a stroke o' work sin Christmas. They're
+badly off. As for us&mdash;my husband has four days a week on th' moor,&mdash;that's
+4s., an' we've 2s. a week to pay out o' that for rent. Yo may guess
+fro that, heaw we are. He should ha' been workin' on the moor today,
+but they've bin rain't off. We've no kind o' meight i' this house bod
+three-ha'poth o' peas; an' we've no firin'. He's just brokken up an
+owd cheer to heat th' watter wi'. (The old man smiled at this, as if
+he thought it was a good joke.) He helps me to wesh, an' sick like;
+an' yo' know, it's a good deal better than gooin' into bad company,
+isn't it? (Here the old man gave her a quiet, approving look, like a
+good little lad taking notice of his mother's advice.) Aw'm very glad
+of a bit o' help,&quot; continued she,&quot;for aw'm not so terrible
+mich use, mysel'. Yo see; aw had a paralytic stroke seven year sin,
+an' we've not getten ower it. For two year aw hadn't a smite o' use
+all deawn this side. One arm an' one leg trail't quite helpless. Aw
+drunk for ever o' stuff for it. At last aw gat somethin' ov a yarb doctor.
+He said that he could cure me for a very trifle, an' he did me a deal
+o' good, sure enough. He nobbut charged me hauve-a-creawn. . . . We
+never knowed what it was to want a meal's meight till lately. We never
+had a penny off th' parish, nor never trouble't anybody till neaw. Aw
+wish times would mend, please God! . . . We once had a pig, an' was
+in a nice way o' gettin' a livin'. . . . When things began o' gooin'
+worse an' worse with us, we went to live in a cellar, at sixpence a
+week rent; and we made it very comfortable, too. We didn't go there
+because we liked th' place; but we thought nobody would know; an, we
+didn't care, so as we could put on till times mended, an' keep aat o'
+debt. But th' inspectors turned us out, an' we had to come here, an'
+pay 2s. a week. . . . Aw do <i>not</i> like to ask for charity, iv one
+could help it. They were givin' clothin' up at th' church a while sin',
+an' some o' th' neighbours wanted me to go an' ax for some singlets,
+ye see aw cannot do without flannels,&mdash;but aw couldn't put th'
+face on.&quot; Now, the young throstles in the cage by the staircase
+began to chirp one after another. &quot;Yer yo at that! &quot;said the
+old man, turning round to the cage; &quot;yer yo at that! Nobbut three
+week owd!&quot; &quot;Yes,&quot; replied the old woman; &quot;they belong
+to my grandson theer. He brought 'em in one day &mdash;neest an' all;
+an' poor nake't crayters they were. He's a great lad for birds.&quot;
+&quot;He's no worse nor me for that,&quot; answered the old man; &quot;aw
+use't to be terrible fond o' brids when aw wur yung.&quot;</p>
+<p>After a little more talk, we bade the old couple good day, and went
+to peep at the cellar where they had crept stealthily away, for the
+sake of keeping their expenses close to their lessening income. The
+place was empty, and the door was open. It was a damp and cheerless
+little hole, down in the corner of a dirty court. We went next into
+Pole Street, and tried the door of a cottage where a widow woman lived
+with her children less than a week before. They were gone, and the house
+was cleared out. &quot;They have had neither fire nor candle in that
+house for weeks past,&quot; said my companion. We then turned up a narrow
+entry, which was so dark and low overhead that my companion only told
+me just in time to &quot;mind my hat!&quot; There are several such entries
+leading out of Pole Street to little courts behind. Here we turned into
+a cold and nearly empty cottage, where a middle-aged woman sat nursing
+a sick child. She looked worn and ill herself, and she had sore eyes.
+She told me that the child was her daughter's. Her daughter's husband
+had died of asthma in the workhouse, about six weeks before. He had
+not &quot;addled&quot; a penny for twelve months before he died. She
+said, &quot;We hed a varra good heawse i' Stanley Street once; but we
+hed to sell up an' creep hitherto. This heawse is 2s. 3d. a week; an'
+we mun pay it, or go into th' street. Aw nobbut owed him for one week,
+an' he said, 'Iv yo connot pay yo mun turn eawt for thoose 'at will
+do.' Aw did think o' gooin' to th' Board,&quot; continued she, &quot;for
+a pair o' clogs. My een are bad; an' awm ill all o'er, an' it's wi'
+nought but gooin' weet o' my feet. My daughter's wortchin'. Hoo gets
+5s. 6d. a week. We han to live an' pay th' rent, too, eawt o' that.&quot;
+I guessed, from the little paper pictures on the wall, that they were
+Catholics.</p>
+<p>In another corner behind Pole Street, we called at a cottage of two
+rooms, each about three yards square. A brother and sister lived together
+here. They were each about fifty years of age. They had three female
+lodgers, factory operatives, out of work. The sister said that her brother
+had been round to the factories that morning, &quot;Thinking that as
+it wur a pastime, there would haply be somebody off; but he couldn't
+yer o' nought.&quot; She said she got a trifle by charing, but not much
+now; for folks were &quot;beginnin' to do it for theirsels.&quot; We
+now turned into Cunliffe Street, and called upon an Irish family there.
+It was a family of seven&mdash;an old tailor, and his wife and children.
+They had &quot;dismissed the relief,&quot; as he expressed it, &quot;because
+they got a bit o' work.&quot; The family was making a little living
+by ripping up old clothes, and turning the cloth to make it up afresh
+into lads' caps and other cheap things. The old man had had a great
+deal of trouble with his family. &quot;I have one girl,&quot; said he,
+&quot;who has bothered my mind a dale. She is under the influence o'
+bad advice. I had her on my hands for many months; an', after that,
+the furst week's wages she got, she up, an' cut stick, an' left me.
+I have another daughter, now nigh nineteen years of age. The trouble
+I have with her I am content with; because it can't be helped. The poor
+crayter hasn't the use of all her faculties. I have taken no end o'
+pains with her, but I can't get her to count twenty on her finger ends
+wid a whole life's tachein'. Fortune has turned her dark side to me
+this long time, now; and, bedad, iv it wasn't for contrivin', an' workin'
+hard to boot, I wouldn't be able to keep above the flood. I assure ye
+it goes agin me to trouble the gentlemen o' the Board; an' so long as
+I am able, I will not. I was born in King's County; an' I was once well
+off in the city of Waterford I once had &pound;400 in the bank. I seen
+the time I didn't drame of a cloudy day; but things take quare turns
+in this world. How-an-ever, since it's no better, thank God it's no
+worse. Sure, it's a long lane that has never a turn in it.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;There's nob'dy but the Lord an' me<br />That knows what I've
+to bide.&quot;<br />&mdash;NATTERIN NAN.</p>
+<p>The slipshod old tailor shuffled after us to the door, talking about
+the signs of the times. His frame was bowed with age and labour, and
+his shoulders drooped away. It was drawing near the time when the grasshopper
+would be a burden to him. A hard life had silently engraved its faithful
+records upon that furrowed face; but there was a cheerful ring in his
+voice which told of a hopeful spirit within him still. The old man's
+nostrils were dusty with snuff, and his poor garments hung about his
+shrunken form in the careless ease which is common to the tailor's shopboard.
+I could not help admiring the brave old wrinkled workman as he stood
+in the doorway talking about his secondhand trade, whilst the gusty
+wind fondled about in his thin gray hair. I took a friendly pinch from
+his little wooden box at parting, and left him to go on struggling with
+his troublesome family to &quot;keep above the flood,&quot; by translating
+old clothes into new. We called at some other houses, where the features
+of life were so much the same that it is not necessary to say more than
+that the inhabitants were all workless, or nearly so, and all living
+upon the charitable provision which is the only thin plank between so
+many people and death, just now. In one house, where the furniture had
+been sold, the poor souls had brought a great stone into the place,
+and this was their only seat. In Cunliffe Street, we passed the cottage
+of a boilermaker, whom I had heard of before. His family was four in
+number. This was one of those cases of wholesome pride in which the
+family had struggled with extreme penury, seeking for work in vain,
+but never asking for charity, until their own poor neighbours were at
+last so moved with pity for their condition, that they drew the attention
+of the Relief Committee to it. The man accepted relief for one week,
+but after that, he declined receiving it any longer, because he had
+met with a promise of employment. But the promise failed him when the
+time came. The employer, who had promised, was himself disappointed
+of the expected work. After this; the boilermaker's family was compelled
+to fall back upon the Relief Committee's allowance. He who has never
+gone hungry about the world, with a strong love of independence in his
+heart, seeking eagerly for work from day to day, and coming home night
+after night to a foodless, fireless house, and a starving family, disappointed
+and desponding, with the gloom of destitution deepening around him,
+can never fully realise what the feelings of such a man may be from
+anything that mere words can tell.</p>
+<p>In Park Road, we called at the house of a hand-loom weaver. I learnt,
+before we went in, that two families lived here, numbering together
+eight persons; and, though it was well known to the committee that they
+had suffered as severely as any on the relief list, yet their sufferings
+had been increased by the anonymous slanders of some ill-disposed neighbours.
+They were quiet, well-conducted working people; and these slanders had
+grieved them very much. I found the poor weaver's wife very sensitive
+on this subject. Man's inhumanity to man may be found among the poor
+sometimes. It is not every one who suffers that learns mercy from that
+suffering. As I have said before, the husband was a calico weaver on
+the hand-loom. He had to weave about seventy-three yards of a kind of
+check for 3s., and a full week's work rarely brought him more than 5s.
+It seems astonishing that a man should stick year after year to such
+labour as this. But there is a strong adhesiveness, mingled with timidity,
+in some men, which helps to keep them down. In the front room of the
+cottage there was not a single article of furniture left, so far as
+I can remember. The weaver's wife was in the little kitchen, and, knowing
+the gentleman who was with me, she invited us forward. She was a wan
+woman, with sunken eyes, and she was not much under fifty years of age.
+Her scanty clothing was whole and clean. She must have been a very good-looking
+woman sometime, though she seemed to me as if long years of hard work
+and poor diet had sapped the foundations of her constitution; and there
+was a curious changeful blending of pallor and feverish flush upon that
+worn face. But, even in the physical ruins of her countenance, a pleasing
+expression lingered still. She was timid and quiet in her manner at
+first, as if wondering what we had come for; but she asked me to sit
+down. There was no seat for my friend, and he stood leaning against
+the wall, trying to get her into easy conversation. The little kitchen
+looked so cheerless and bare that dull morning that it reminded me again
+of a passage in that rude, racy song of the Lancashire weaver, &quot;Jone
+o' Greenfeelt&quot;&mdash;</p>
+<p>&quot;Owd Bill o' Dan's sent us th' baillies one day,<br />For a
+shop-score aw owed him, at aw couldn't pay;<br />But, he were too lat,
+for owd Billy at th' Bent<br />Had sent th' tit an' cart, an' taen th'
+goods off for rent,&mdash;<br />They laft nought but th' owd stoo;<br />It
+were seats for us two,<br />An' on it keawr't Margit an' me.</p>
+<p>&quot;Then, th' baillies looked reawnd 'em as sly as a meawse,<br />When
+they see'd at o'th goods had bin taen eawt o' th' heawse;<br />Says
+tone chap to tother, 'O's gone,&mdash;thae may see,'&mdash;<br />Says
+aw, 'Lads, ne'er fret, for yo're welcome to me!'<br />Then they made
+no moor do,<br />But nipt up wi' owd stoo,<br />An' we both letten thwack
+upo' th' flags.</p>
+<p>&quot;Then aw said to eawr Margit, while we're upo' the floor,<br />'We's
+never be lower i' this world, aw'm sure;<br />Iv ever things awtern
+they're likely to mend,<br />For aw think i' my heart that we're both
+at th' fur end;<br />For meight we ban noan,<br />Nor no looms to weighve
+on,<br />An' egad, they're as good lost as fund.'&quot;</p>
+<p>We had something to do to get the weaver's wife to talk to us freely,
+and I believe the reason was, that, after the slanders they had been
+subject to, she harboured a sensitive fear lest anything like doubt
+should be cast upon her story. &quot;Well, Mrs,&quot; said my friend,
+&quot;let's see; how many are you altogether in this house?&quot; &quot;We're
+two families, yo know,&quot; replied she; &quot;there's eight on us
+all altogether.&quot; &quot;Well,&quot; continued he,&quot;and how much
+have you coming in, now?&quot; He had asked this question so oft before,
+and had so often received the same answer, that the poor soul began
+to wonder what was the meaning of it all. She looked at us silently,
+her wan face flushed, and then, with tears rising in her eyes, she said,
+tremulously, &quot;Well, iv yo' cannot believe folk&mdash;&quot; My
+friend stopped her at once, and said, &quot;Nay, Mrs_, you must not
+think that I doubt your story. I know all about it; but my friend wanted
+me to let you tell it your own way. We have come here to do you good,
+if possible, and no harm. You don't need to fear that.&quot; &quot;Oh,
+well,&quot; said she, slowly wiping her moist forehead, and looking
+relieved,&quot; but yo know, aw was very much put about o'er th' ill-natur't
+talk as somebody set eawt.&quot; &quot;Take no notice of them,&quot;
+said my friend; &quot;take no notice. I meet with such things every
+day.&quot; &quot;Well,&quot; continued she,&quot; yo know heaw we're
+situated. We were nine months an' hesn't a stroke o' wark. Eawr wenches
+are gettin' a day for t' sick, neaw and then, but that's all. There's
+a brother o' mine lives with us,&mdash;he'd a been clemmed into th'
+grave but for th' relief; an' aw've been many a time an' hesn't put
+a bit i' my meawth fro mornin' to mornin' again. We've bin married twenty-four
+year; an' aw don't think at him an' me together has spent a shillin'
+i' drink all that time. Why, to tell yo truth, we never had nought to
+stir on. My husband does bod get varra little upo th' hand-loom i' th'
+best o' times&mdash;5s. a week or so. He weighves a sort o' check&mdash;seventy-three
+yards for 3s.&quot; The back door opened into a little damp yard, hemmed
+in by brick walls. Over in the next yard we could see a man bustling
+about, and singing in a loud voice, &quot;Hard times come again no more.&quot;
+&quot;Yon fellow doesn't care much about th' hard times, I think,&quot;
+said I. &quot;Eh, naw,&quot; replied she. &quot;He'll live where mony
+a one would dee, will yon. He has that little shop, next dur; an' he
+keeps sellin' a bit o' toffy, an' then singin' a bit, an' then sellin'
+a bit moor toffy,&mdash;an' he's as happy as a pig amung slutch.&quot;</p>
+<p>Leaving the weaver's cottage, the rain came on, and we sat a few
+minutes with a young shoemaker, who was busy at his bench, doing a cobbling
+job. His wife was lying ill upstairs. He had been so short of work for
+some time past that he had been compelled to apply for relief. He complained
+that the cheap gutta percha shoes were hurting his trade. He said a
+pair of men's gutta percha shoes could be bought for 5s. 6d., whilst
+it would cost him 7s. 6d. for the materials alone to make a pair of
+men's shoes of. When the rain was over, we left his house, and as we
+went along I saw in a cottage window a printed paper containing these
+words, &quot;Bitter beer. This beer is made of herbs and roots of the
+native country.&quot; I know that there are many poor people yet in
+Lancashire who use decoctions of herbs instead of tea&mdash;mint and
+balm are the favourite herbs for this purpose; but I could not imagine
+what this herb beer could be, at a halfpenny a bottle, unless it was
+made of nettles. At the cottage door there was about four-pennyworth
+of mauled garden stuff upon an old tray. There was nobody inside but
+a little ragged lass, who could not tell us what the beer was made of.
+She had only one drinking glass in the place, and that had a snip out
+of the rim. The beer was exceedingly bitter. We drank as we could, and
+then went into Pump Street, to the house of a &quot;core-maker,&quot;
+a kind of labourer for moulders. The core-maker's wife was in. They
+had four children. The whole six had lived for thirteen weeks on 3s.
+6d. a week. When work first began to fall off, the husband told the
+visitors who came to inquire into their condition, that he had a little
+money saved up, and he could manage a while. The family lived upon their
+savings as long as they lasted, and then were compelled to apply for
+relief, or &quot;clem.&quot; It was not quite noon when we left this
+house, and my friend proposed that before we went farther we should
+call upon Mrs G_, an interesting old woman, in Cunliffe Street. We turned
+back to the place, and there we found</p>
+<p>&quot;In lowly shed, and mean attire,<br />A matron old, whom we
+schoolmistress name,<br />Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame.&quot;</p>
+<p>In a small room fronting the street, the mild old woman sat, with
+her bed in one corner, and her simple vassals ranged upon the forms
+around. Here, &quot;with quaint arts,&quot; she swayed the giddy crowd
+of little imprisoned elves, whilst they fretted away their irksome schooltime,
+and unconsciously played their innocent prelude to the serious drama
+of life. As we approach the open door&mdash;</p>
+<p>&quot;The noises intermix'd, which thence resound,<br />Do learning's
+little tenement betray;<br />Where sits the dame disguised in look profound,<br />And
+eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel around.&quot;</p>
+<p>The venerable little woman had lived in this house fourteen years.
+She was seventy-three years of age, and a native of Limerick. She was
+educated at St Ann's School, in Dublin, and she had lived fourteen years
+in the service of a lady in that city. The old dame made an effort to
+raise her feeble form when we entered, and she received us as courteously
+as the finest lady in the land could have done. She told us that she
+charged only a penny a-week for her teaching; but, said she, &quot;some
+of them can't pay it.&quot; &quot;There's a poor child,&quot; continued
+she, &quot;his father has been out of work eleven months, and they are
+starving but for the relief. Still, I do get a little, and I like to
+have the children about me. Oh, my case is not the worst, I know. I
+have people lodging in the house who are not so well off as me. I have
+three families living here. One is a family of four; they have only
+3s. a-week to live upon. Another is a family of three; they have 6s.
+a-week from a club, but they pay me 2s. a-week. for rent out of that.
+. . . . I am very much troubled with my eyes; my sight is failing fast.
+If I drop a stitch when I'm knitting, I can't see to take it up again.
+If I could buy a pair of spectacles, they would help me a good dale;
+but I cannot afford till times are better.&quot; I could not help thinking
+how many kind souls there are in the world who would be glad to give
+the old woman a pair of spectacles, if they knew her.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>We talked with the old schoolmistress in Cunliffe Street till it
+was &quot;high twelve&quot; at noon, and then the kind jailer of learning's
+little prison-house let all her fretful captives go. The clamorous elves
+rushed through the doorway into the street, like a stream too big for
+its vent, rejoicing in their new-found freedom and the open face of
+day. The buzz of the little teaching mill was hushed once more, and
+the old dame laid her knitting down, and quietly wiped her weak and
+weary eyes. The daughters of music were brought low with her, but, in
+the last thin treble of second childhood, she trembled forth mild complaints
+of her neighbours' troubles, but very little of her own. We left her
+to enjoy her frugal meal and her noontide reprieve in peace, and came
+back to the middle of the town. On our way I noticed again some features
+of street life which are more common in manufacturing towns just now
+than when times are good. Now and then one meets with a man in the dress
+of a factory worker selling newspapers, or religious tracts, or back
+numbers of the penny periodicals, which do not cost much. It is easy
+to see, from their shy and awkward manner, that they are new to the
+trade, and do not like it. They are far less dexterous, and much more
+easily &quot;said,&quot; than the brisk young salesmen who hawk newspapers
+in the streets of Manchester. I know that many of these are unemployed
+operatives trying to make an honest penny in this manner till better
+days return. Now and then, too, a grown-up girl trails along the street,
+&quot;with wandering steps and slow,&quot; ragged, and soiled, and starved,
+and looking as if she had travelled far in the rainy weather, houseless
+and forlorn. I know that such sights may be seen at any time, but not
+near so often as just now; and I cannot help thinking that many of these
+are poor sheep which have strayed away from the broken folds of labour.
+Sometimes it is an older woman that goes by, with a child at the breast,
+and one or two holding by the skirt of her tattered gown, and perhaps
+one or two more limping after, as she crawls along the pavement, gazing
+languidly from side to side among the heedless crowd, as if giving her
+last look round the world for help, without knowing where to get it,
+and without heart to ask for it. It is easy to give wholesale reasons
+why nobody needs to be in such a condition as this; but it is not improbable
+that there are some poor souls who, from no fault of their own, drop
+through the great sieve of charity into utter destitution. &quot;They
+are well kept that God keeps.&quot; May the continual dew of Heaven's
+blessing gladden the hearts of those who deal kindly with them!</p>
+<p>After dinner I fell into company with some gentlemen who were talking
+about the coming guild&mdash;that ancient local festival, which is so
+clear to the people of Preston, that they are not likely to allow it
+to go by wholly unhonoured, however severe the times may be. Amongst
+them was a gray-haired friend of mine, who is a genuine humorist. He
+told us many quaint anecdotes. One of them was of a man who went to
+inquire the price of graves in a certain cemetery. The sexton told him
+that they were &pound;1 on this side, and &pound;2 on the other side
+of the knoll. &quot;How is it that they are &pound;2 on the other side?&quot;
+inquired the man. &quot;Well, becose there's a better view there,&quot;
+replied the sexton. There were three or four millowners in the company,
+and, when the conversation turned upon the state of trade, one of them
+said, &quot;I admit that there is a great deal of distress, but we are
+not so badly off yet as to drive the operatives to work for reasonable
+wages. For instance, I had a labourer working for me at 10s. a-week;
+he threw up my employ, and went to work upon the moor for 1s. a-day.
+How do you account for that? And then, again, I had another man employed
+as a watchman and roller coverer, at 18s. a-week. I found that I couldn't
+afford to keep him on at 18s., so I offered him 15s. a-week; but he
+left it, and went to work on the moor at 1s. a-day; and, just now, I
+want a man to take his place, and cannot get one.&quot; Another said,
+&quot;I am only giving low wages to my workpeople, but they get more
+with me than they can make on the moor, and yet I cannot keep them.&quot;
+I heard some other things of the same kind, for which there might be
+special reasons; but these gentlemen admitted the general prevalence
+of severe distress, and the likelihood of its becoming much worse.</p>
+<p>At two o'clock I sallied forth again, under convoy of another member
+of the Relief Committee, into the neighbourhood of Messrs Horrocks,
+Miller, and Co.'s works. Their mill is known as &quot;Th' Yard Factory.&quot;
+Hereabouts the people generally are not so much reduced as in some parts
+of the town, because they have had more employment, until lately, than
+has been common elsewhere. But our business lay with those distressed
+families who were in receipt of relief, and, even here, they were very
+easy to find. The first house we called at was inhabited by a family
+of five&mdash;man and wife and three children. The man was working on
+the moor at one shilling a-day. The wife was unwell, but she was moving
+about the house. They had buried one girl three weeks before; and one
+of the three remaining children lay ill of the measles. They had suffered
+a great deal from sickness. The wife said, &quot;My husband is a peawer-loom
+weighver. He had to come whoam ill fro' his wark; an' then they shopped
+his looms, (gave his work to somebody else,) an' he couldn't get 'em
+back again. He'll get 'em back as soon as he con, yo may depend; for
+we don't want to bother folk for no mak o' relief no lunger than we
+can help.&quot; In addition to the husband's pay upon the moor, they
+were receiving 2s. a week from the Committee, making altogether 8s.
+a week for the five, with 2s. 6d. to pay out of it for rent. She said,
+&quot;We would rayther ha' soup than coffee, becose there's moor heytin'
+in it.&quot; My friend looked in at the door of a cottage in Barton
+Street. There was a sickly-looking woman inside. &quot;Well, missis,&quot;
+said my friend, jocularly, &quot;how are you? because, if you're ill,
+I've brought a doctor here.&quot; &quot;Eh,&quot; replied she, &quot;aw
+could be ill in a minute, if aw could afford, but these times winnot
+ston doctors' bills. Besides, aw never were partial to doctors' physic;
+it's kitchen physic at aw want. Han yo ony o' that mak' wi' yo?&quot;
+She said,&quot; My husban' were th' o'erlooker o' th'weighvers at &quot;Owd
+Tom's.' They stopt to fettle th' engine a while back, an' they'n never
+started sin'. But aw guess they wi'n do some day.&quot; We had not many
+yards to go to the next place, which was a poor cottage in Fletcher's
+Row, where a family of eight persons resided. There was very little
+furniture in the place, but I noticed a small shelf of books in a corner
+by the window. A feeble woman, upwards of seventy years old, sat upon
+a stool tending the cradle of a sleeping infant. This infant was the
+youngest of five children, the oldest of the five was seven years of
+age. The mother of the three-weeks-old infant had just gone out to the
+mill to claim her work from the person who had been filling her place
+during her confinement. The old woman said that the husband was &quot;a
+grinder in a card-room when they geet wed, an' he addled about 8s. a
+week; but, after they geet wed, his wife larn't him to weighve upo'
+th' peawer-looms.&quot; She said that she was no relation to them, but
+she nursed, and looked after the house for them. &quot;They connot afford
+to pay mo nought,&quot; continued she, &quot;but aw fare as they fare'n,
+an' they dunnot want to part wi' me. Aw'm not good to mich, but aw can
+manage what they wanten, yo see'n. Aw never trouble't noather teawn
+nor country i' my life, an' aw hope aw never shall for the bit o' time
+aw have to do on.&quot; She said that the Board of Guardians had allowed
+the family 10s. a week for the two first weeks of the wife's confinement,
+but now their income amounted to a little less than one shilling a head
+per week.</p>
+<p>Leaving this house, we turned round the corner into St Mary's Street
+North. Here we found a clean-looking young working man standing shivering
+by a cottage door, with his hands in his pockets. He was dressed in
+well-mended fustian, and he had a cloth cap on his head. His face had
+a healthy hunger-nipt look. &quot;Hollo,&quot; said my friend, &quot;I
+thought you was working on the moor.&quot; &quot;Ay,&quot; replied the
+young man, &quot;Aw have bin, but we'n bin rain't off this afternoon.&quot;
+&quot;Is there nobody in?&quot; said my friend. &quot;Naw, my wife's
+gone eawt; hoo'll not be mony minutes. Hoo's here neaw.&quot; A clean
+little pale woman came up, with a child in her arms, and we went in.
+They had not much furniture in the small kitchen, which was the only
+place we saw, but everything was sweet and orderly. Their income was,
+as usual in relief cases, about one shilling a head per week. &quot;You
+had some lodgers,&quot; said my friend. &quot;Ay,&quot; said she,&quot;but
+they're gone.&quot; &quot;How's that?&quot; &quot;We had a few words.
+Their little lad was makin' a great noise i' the passage theer, an'
+aw were very ill o' my yed, an' aw towd him to go an' play him at tother
+side o' th' street,&mdash;so, they took it amiss, an' went to lodge
+wi' some folk i' Ribbleton Lone.&quot;</p>
+<p>We called at another house in this street. A family of six lived
+there. The only furniture I saw in the place was two chairs, a table,
+a large stool, a cheap clock, and a few pots. The man and his wife were
+in. She was washing. The man was a stiff built, shock-headed little
+fellow, with a squint in his eye that seemed to enrich the good-humoured
+expression of his countenance. Sitting smiling by the window, he looked
+as if he had lots of fun in him, if he only had a fair chance of letting
+it off. He told us that he was a &quot;tackler&quot; by trade. A tackler
+is one who fettles looms when they get out of order. &quot;Couldn't
+you get on at Horrocks's?&quot; said my friend. &quot;Naw,&quot; replied
+he; &quot;they'n not ha' men-weighvers theer.&quot; The wife said,&quot;
+We're a deal better off than some. He has six days a week upo th' moor,
+an' we'n 3s. a week fro th' Relief Committee. We'n 2s. 6d. a week to
+pay eawt on it for rent; but then, we'n a lad that gets 4d. a day neaw
+an' then for puttin' bobbins on; an' every little makes a mickle, yo
+known.&quot; &quot;How is it that your clock's stopt?&quot; said I.
+&quot;Nay,&quot; said the little fellow; &quot;aw don't know. Want o'
+cotton, happen,&mdash;same as everything else is stopt for.&quot; Leaving
+this house we met with another member of the Relief Committee, who was
+overlooker of a mill a little way off. I parted here with the gentleman
+who had accompanied me hitherto, and the overlooker went on with me.</p>
+<p>In Newton Street he stopped, and said, &quot;Let's look in here.&quot;
+We went up two steps, and met a young woman coming out at the cottage
+door. &quot;How's Ruth?&quot; said my friend. &quot;Well, hoo is here.
+Hoo's busy bakin' for Betty.&quot; We went in. &quot;You're not bakin'
+for yourselves, then?&quot; said he. &quot;Eh, naw,&quot; replied the
+young woman,&quot; it's mony a year sin' we had a bakin' o' fleawr,
+isn't it, Ruth?&quot; The old woman who was baking turned round and
+said, &quot;Ay; an' it'll be mony another afore we han one aw deawt.&quot;
+There were three dirty-looking hens picking and croodling about the
+cottage floor. &quot;How is it you don't sell these, or else eat 'em?&quot;
+said he. &quot;Eh, dear,&quot; replied the old woman, &quot;dun yo want
+mo kilt? He's had thoose hens mony a year; an' they rooten abeawt th'
+heawse just th' same as greadley Christians. He did gi' consent for
+one on 'em to be kilt yesterday; but aw'll be hanged iv th' owd cracky
+didn't cry like a chylt when he see'd it beawt yed. He'd as soon part
+wi' one o'th childer as one o'th hens. He says they're so mich like
+owd friends, neaw. He's as quare as Dick's hat-bant 'at went nine times
+reawnd an' wouldn't tee. . . . We thought we'd getten a shop for yon
+lad o' mine t'other day. We yerd ov a chap at Lytham at wanted a lad
+to tak care o' six jackasses an' a pony. Th' pony were to tak th' quality
+to Blackpool, and such like. So we fettled th' lad's bits o' clooas
+up and made him ever so daycent, and set him off to try to get on wi'
+th' chap at Lytham. Well, th' lad were i' good heart abeawt it; an'
+when he geet theer th' chap towd him at he thought he wur very likely
+for th' job, so that made it better,&mdash;an' th' lad begun o' wearin'
+his bit o' brass o' summat to eat, an' sich like, thinkin' he're sure
+o' th' shop. Well, they kept him there, dallyin', aw tell yo, an' never
+tellin' him a greadley tale, fro Sunday till Monday o' th' neet, an'
+then,&mdash;lo an' behold,&mdash;th' mon towd him that he'd hire't another;
+and th' lad had to come trailin' whoam again, quite deawn i'th' meawth.
+Eh, aw wur some mad! Iv aw'd been at th' back o' that chap, aw could
+ha' punce't him, see yo!&quot; &quot;Well,&quot; said my friend, &quot;there's
+no work yet, Ruth, is there?&quot; &quot;Wark! naw; nor never will be
+no moor, aw believe.&quot; &quot;Hello, Ruth!&quot; said the young woman,
+pointing through the window, &quot;dun yo know who yon is?&quot; &quot;Know?
+ay,&quot; replied the old woman; &quot;He's getten aboon porritch neaw,
+has yon. He walks by me i'th street, as peart as a pynot, an' never
+cheeps. But, he's no 'casion. Aw know'd him when his yure stickt out
+at top ov his hat; and his shurt would ha' hanged eawt beheend, too,&mdash;like
+a Wigan lantron,&mdash;iv he'd had a shurt.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;Oh, reason not the deed; our basest beggars<br />Are in the
+poorest things superfluous:<br />Allow not nature more than nature needs,<br />Man's
+life is cheap as beast's.&quot;<br /><i>&mdash;King Lear.</i></p>
+<p>A short fit of rain came on whilst we were in the cottage in Newton
+Street, so we sat a little while with Ruth, listening to her quaint
+tattle about the old man and his feathered pets; about the children,
+the hard times, and her own personal ailments;&mdash;for, though I could
+not help thinking her a very good-hearted, humorous old woman, bravely
+disposed to fight it out with the troubles of her humble lot, yet it
+was clear that she was inclined to ease her harassed mind now and then
+by a little wholesome grumbling; and I dare say that sometimes she might
+lose her balance so far as to think, like &quot;Natterin' Nan,&quot;
+&quot;No livin' soul atop o't earth's bin tried as I've bin tried: there's
+nob'dy but the Lord an' me that knows what I've to bide.&quot;</p>
+<p>Old age and infirmity, too, had found Ruth out, in her penurious
+obscurity; and she was disposed to complain a little, like Nan, sometimes,
+of &quot;the ills that flesh is heir to:&quot;-</p>
+<p>&quot;Fro' t' wind i't stomach, rheumatism,<br />Tengin pains i't
+gooms,<br />An' coughs, an' cowds, an' t' spine o't back,<br />I suffer
+martyrdom.</p>
+<p>&quot;Yet nob'dy pities mo, or thinks<br />I'm ailin' owt at all;<br />T'
+poor slave mun tug an' tew wi't wark,<br />Wolivver shoo can crawl.&quot;</p>
+<p>Old Ruth was far from being as nattle and querulous as the famous
+ill-natured grumbler so racily pictured by Benjamin Preston, of Bradford;
+but, like most of the dwellers upon earth, she was a little bit touched
+with the same complaint. When the rain was over, we came away. I cannot
+say that the weather ever &quot;cleared up&quot; that day; for, at the
+end of every shower, the dark, slow-moving clouds always seemed to be
+mustering for another downfall. We came away, and left the &quot;cant&quot;
+old body &quot;busy bakin' for Betty,&quot; and &quot;shooing&quot;
+the hens away from her feet, and she shuffled about the house. A few
+yards lower in Newton Street, we turned up a low, dark entry, which
+led to a gloomy little court behind. This was one of those unhealthy,
+pent-up cloisters, where misery stagnates and broods among the &quot;foul
+congregation of pestilential vapours&quot; which haunt the backdoor
+life of the poorest parts of great towns. Here, those viewless ministers
+of health&mdash;the fresh winds of heaven&mdash;had no free play; and
+poor human nature inhaled destruction from the poisonous effluvia that
+festered there. And, in such nooks as this, there may be found many
+decent working people, who have been accustomed to live a cleanly life
+in their humble way in healthy quarters, now reduced to extreme penury,
+pinching, and pining, and nursing the flickering hope of better days,
+which may enable them to flee from the foul harbour which strong necessity
+has driven them to. The dark aspect of the day filled the court with
+a tomb-like gloom. If I remember aright, there were only three or four
+cottages in it. We called at two of them. Before we entered the first,
+my friend said, &quot;A young couple lives here. They are very decent
+people. They have not been here long; and they have gone through a great
+deal before they came here.&quot; There were two or three pot ornaments
+on the cornice; but there was no furniture in the place, save one chair,
+which was occupied by a pale young woman, nursing her child. Her thin,
+intelligent face looked very sad. Her clothing, though poor, was remarkably
+clean; and, as she sat there, in the gloomy, fireless house, she said
+very little, and what she said she said very quietly, as if she had
+hardly strength to complain, and was even half-ashamed to do so. She
+told us, however, that her husband had been out of work six months.
+&quot;He didn't know what to turn to after we sowd th' things,&quot;
+said she; &quot;but he's takken to cheer-bottomin', for he doesn't want
+to lie upo' folk for relief, if he can help it. He doesn't get much
+above a cheer, or happen two in a week, one week wi' another, an' even
+then he doesn't olez get paid, for folks ha' not brass. It runs very
+hard with us, an' I'm nobbut sickly.&quot; The poor soul did not need
+to say much; her own person, which evinced such a touching struggle
+to keep up a decent appearance to the last, and everything about her,
+as she sat there in the gloomy place, trying to keep the child warm
+upon her cold breast, told eloquently what her tongue faltered at and
+failed to express.</p>
+<p>The next place we called at in this court was a cottage kept by a
+withered old woman, with one foot in the grave. We found her in the
+house, sallow, and shrivelled, and panting for breath. She had three
+young women, out of work, lodging with her; and, in addition to these,
+a widow with her two children lived there. One of these children, a
+girl, was earning 2s. 6d. a week for working short time at a mill; the
+other, a lad, was earning 3s. a week. The rest were all unemployed,
+and had been so for several months past. This 5s. 6d. a week was all
+the seven people had to live upon, with the exception of a trifle the
+sickly old woman received from the Board of Guardians. As we left the
+court, two young fellows were lounging at the entry end, as if waiting
+for us. One of them stepped up to my friend, and whispered something
+plaintively, pointing to his feet. I did not catch the reply; but my
+friend made a note, and we went on. Before we had gone many yards down
+the street a storm of rain and thunder came on, and we hurried into
+the house of an old Irishwoman close by. My friend knew the old woman.
+She was on his list of relief cases. &quot;Will you let us shelter a
+few minutes, Mrs _?&quot; said he. &quot;I will, an' thank ye,&quot;
+replied she. &quot;Come in an' sit down. Sure, it's not fit to turn
+out a dog. Faith, that's a great storm. Oh, see the rain! Thank God
+it's not him that made the house that made the pot! Dear, dear; did
+ye see the awful flash that time? I don't like to be by myself, I am
+so terrified wi' the thunder. There has been a great dale o' wet this
+long time.&quot; &quot;There, has,&quot; replied my friend; &quot;but
+how have ye been getting on since I called before?&quot; &quot;Well,&quot;
+said the old woman, sitting down, &quot;things is quare with us as ever
+they can be, an' that you know very well.&quot; There was a young woman
+reared against the table by the window. My friend turned towards her,
+and said, &quot;Well, and how does the Indian meal agree with you?&quot;
+The young woman blushed, and smiled, but said nothing; but the old woman
+turned sharply round and replied, &quot;Well, now, it is better nor
+starvation; it is chape, an' it fills up&mdash;an' that's all.&quot;
+&quot;Is your son working?&quot; inquired my friend. &quot;Troth, he
+is,&quot; replied she. &quot;He does be gettin' a day now an' again
+at the breek-croft in Ribbleton Lone. Faith, it is time he did somethin',
+too, for he was nine months out o' work entirely. I am got greatly into
+debt, an' I don't think I'll ever be able to get over it any more. I
+don't know how does poor folk be able to spind money on drink such times
+as thim; bedad, I cannot do it. It is bard enough to get mate of any
+kind to keep the bare life in a body. Oh, see now; but for the relief,
+the half o' the country would die out.&quot; &quot;You're a native of
+Ireland, missis,&quot; said I. &quot;Troth, I am,&quot; replied she;
+&quot;an' had a good farm o' greawnd in it too, one time. Ah! many's
+the dark day I went through between that an' this. Before thim bad times
+came on, long ago, people were well off in ould Ireland. I seen them
+wid as many as tin cows standin' at the door at one time. . . . Ah,
+then! but the Irish people is greatly scattered now! . . . But, for
+the matter of that, folk are as badly off here as anywhere in the world,
+I think. I dunno know how does poor folk be able to spind money for
+dhrink. I am a widow this seventeen year now, an' the divle a man or
+woman uvver seen me goin' to a public-house. I seen women goin' a drinkin'
+widout a shift to their backs. I dunno how the divvle they done it.
+Begorra, I think, if I drunk a glass of ale just now, my two legs would
+fail from under me immadiately&mdash;I am that wake.&quot; The old woman
+was a little too censorious, I think. There is no doubt that even people
+who are starving do drink a little sometimes. The wonder would be if
+they did not, in some degree, share the follies of the rest of the world.
+Besides, it is a well-known fact, that those who are in employ, are
+apt, from a feeling of misdirected kindness, to treat those who are
+out of work to a glass of ale or two, now and then; and it is very natural,
+too, that those who have been but ill-fed for a long time are not able
+to stand it well.</p>
+<p>After leaving the old Irishwoman's house, we called upon a man who
+had got his living by the sale of newspapers. There was nothing specially
+worthy of remark in this case, except that he complained of his trade
+having fallen away a good deal. &quot;I used to sell three papers where
+I now sell one,&quot; said he. This may not arise from there being fewer
+papers sold, but from there being more people selling them than when
+times were good. I came back to Manchester in the evening. I have visited
+Preston again since then, and have spent some time upon Preston Moor,
+where there are nearly fifteen hundred men, principally factory operatives,
+at work. Of this I shall have something to say in my next paper.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;The rose of Lancaster for lack of nurture pales.&quot;<br />&mdash;BLACKBURN
+BARD.</p>
+<p>It was early on a fine morning in July when I next set off to see
+Preston again; the long-continued rains seemed to be ended, and the
+unclouded sun flooded all the landscape with splendour. All nature rejoiced
+in the change, and the heart of man was glad. In Clifton Vale, the white-sleeved
+mowers were at work among the rich grass, and the scent of new hay came
+sweetly through our carriage windows. In the leafy cloughs and hedges,
+the small birds were wild with joy, and every garden sent forth a goodly
+smell. Along its romantic vale the glittering Irwell meandered, here,
+through nooks, &quot;o'erhung wi' wildwoods, thickening green;&quot;
+and there, among lush unshaded pastures; gathering on its way many a
+mild whispering brook, whose sunlit waters laced the green land with
+freakish lines of trembling gold. To me this ride is always interesting,
+so many points of historic interest line the way; but it was doubly
+delightful on that glorious July morning. And I never saw Fishergate,
+in Preston, look better than it did then. On my arrival there I called
+upon the Secretary of the Trinity Ward Relief Committee. In a quiet
+bye-street, where there are four pleasant cottages, with little gardens
+in front of them, I found him in his studious nook, among books, relief
+tickets, and correspondence. We had a few minutes' talk about the increasing
+distress of the town; and he gave me a short account of the workroom
+which has been opened in Knowsley Street, for the employment of female
+factory operatives out of work. This workroom is managed by a committee
+of ladies, some of whom are in attendance every day. The young women
+are employed upon plain sewing. They have two days' work a week, at
+one shilling a day, and the Relief Committee adds sixpence to this 2s.
+in each case. Most of them are merely learning to sew. Many of them
+prove to be wholly untrained to this simple domestic accomplishment.
+The work is not remunerative, nor is it expected to be so; but the benefit
+which may grow out of the teaching which these young women get here&mdash;and
+the evil their employment here may prevent, cannot be calculated. I
+find that such workrooms are established in some of the other towns
+now suffering from the depression of trade. Some of these I intend to
+visit hereafter. I spent an interesting half-hour with the secretary,
+after which I went to see the factory operatives at work upon Preston
+Moor.</p>
+<p>Preston Moor is a tract of waste land on the western edge of the
+town. It belongs to the corporation. A little vale runs through a great
+part of this moor, from south-east to north-west; and the ground was,
+until lately, altogether uneven. On the town side of the little dividing
+vale the land is a light, sandy soil; on the other side, there is abundance
+of clay for brickmaking. Upon this moor there are now fifteen hundred
+men, chiefly factory operatives, at work, levelling the land for building
+purposes, and making a great main sewer for the drainage of future streets.
+The men, being almost all unused to this kind of labour, are paid only
+one shilling per day; and the whole scheme has been devised for the
+employment of those who are suffering from the present depression of
+trade. The work had been going on several months before I saw it, and
+a great part of the land was levelled. When I came in sight of the men,
+working in scattered gangs that fine morning, there was, as might be
+expected, a visible difference between their motions and those of trained
+&quot;navvies&quot; engaged upon the same kind of labour. There were
+also very great differences of age and physical condition amongst them&mdash;old
+men and consumptive-looking lads, hardly out of their teens. They looked
+hard at me as I walked down the central line, but they were not anyway
+uncivil. &quot;What time is 't, maister?&quot; asked a middle-aged man,
+with gray hair, as he wiped his forehead. &quot;Hauve-past ten,&quot;
+said I. &quot;What time says he?&quot; inquired a feeble young fellow,
+who was resting upon his barrow. &quot;Hauve-past ten, he says,&quot;
+replied the other. &quot;Eh; it's warm!&quot; said the tired lad, lying
+down upon his barrow again. One thing I noticed amongst these men, with
+very rare exceptions, their apparel, however poor, evinced that wholesome
+English love of order and cleanliness which generally indicates something
+of self-respect in the wearer&mdash;especially among poor folk. There
+is something touching in the whiteness of a well-worn shirt, and the
+careful patches of a poor man's old fustian coat.</p>
+<p>As I lounged about amongst the men, a mild-eyed policeman came up,
+and offered to conduct me to Jackson, the labour-master, who had gone
+down to the other end of the moor, to look after the men at work at
+the great sewer&mdash;a wet clay cutting&mdash;the heaviest bit of work
+on the ground. We passed some busy brickmakers, all plastered and splashed
+with wet clay &mdash;of the earth, earthy. Unlike the factory operatives
+around them, these men clashed, and kneaded, and sliced among the clay,
+as if they were working for a wager. But they were used to the job,
+and working piece-work. A little further on, we came to an unbroken
+bit of the moor. Here, on a green slope we saw a poor lad sitting chirruping
+upon the grass, with a little cloutful of groundsel for bird meat in
+his hand, watching another, who was on his knees, delving for earth-nuts
+with an old knife. Lower down the slope there were three other lads
+plaguing a young jackass colt; and further off, on the town edge of
+the moor, several children from the streets hard by, were wandering
+about the green hollow, picking daisies, and playing together in the
+sunshine. There are several cotton factories close to the moor, but
+they were quiet enough. Whilst I looked about me here, the policeman
+pointed to the distance and said, &quot;Jackson's comin' up, I see.
+Yon's him, wi' th' white lin' jacket on.&quot; Jackson seems to have
+won the esteem of the men upon the moor by his judicious management
+and calm determination. I have heard that he had a little trouble at
+first, through an injurious report spread amongst the men immediately
+before he undertook the management. Some person previously employed
+upon the ground had &quot;set it eawt that there wur a chap comin' that
+would make 'em addle a hauve-a-creawn a day for their shillin'.&quot;
+Of course this increased the difficulty of his position; but he seems
+to have fought handsomely through all that sort of thing. I had met
+him for a few minutes once before, so there was no difficulty between
+us.</p>
+<p>&quot;Well, Jackson,&quot; said I, &quot;heaw are yo gettin' on among
+it?&quot; &quot;Oh, very well, very well,&quot; said he,&quot; We'n
+more men at work than we had, an' we shall happen have more yet. But
+we'n getten things into something like system, an' then tak 'em one
+with another th' chaps are willin' enough. You see they're not men that
+have getten a livin' by idling aforetime; they're workin' men, but they're
+strange to this job, an' one cannot expect 'em to work like trained
+honds, no moor than one could expect a lot o' navvies to work weel at
+factory wark. Oh, they done middlin', tak 'em one with another.&quot;
+I now asked him if he had not had some trouble with the men at first.
+&quot;Well,&quot; said he, &quot;I had at first, an' that's the truth.
+I remember th' first day that I came to th' job. As I walked on to th'
+ground there was a great lump o' clay coom bang into my earhole th'
+first thing; but I walked on, an' took no notice, no moor than if it
+had bin a midge flyin' again my face. Well, that kind o' thing took
+place, now an' then, for two or three days, but I kept agate o' never
+mindin'; till I fund there were some things that I thought could be
+managed a deal better in a different way; so I gav' th' men notice that
+I would have 'em altered. For instance, now, when I coom here at first,
+there was a great shed in yon hollow; an' every mornin' th' men had
+to pass through that shed one after another, an' have their names booked
+for th' day. The result wur, that after they'd walked through th' shed,
+there was many on 'em walked out at t'other end o' th' moor straight
+into teawn a-playin' 'em. Well, I was determined to have that system
+done away with. An', when th' men fund that I was gooin' to make these
+alterations, they growled a good deal, you may depend, an' two or three
+on 'em coom up an' spoke to me abeawt th' matter, while tother stood
+clustered a bit off. Well; I was beginnin' to tell 'em plain an' straight-forrud
+what I would have done, when one o' these three sheawted out to th'
+whole lot, &quot;Here, chaps, come an' gether reawnd th' devil. Let's
+yer what he's for!&quot; 'Well,' said I, 'come on, an' you shall yer,'
+for aw felt cawmer just then, than I did when it were o'er. There they
+were, gethered reawnd me in a minute,&mdash;th' whole lot,&mdash;I were
+fair hemmed in. But I geet atop ov a bit ov a knowe, an' towd 'em a
+fair tale,&mdash;what I wanted, an' what I would have, an' I put it
+to 'em whether they didn't consider it reet. An' I believe they see'd
+th' thing in a reet leet, but they said nought about it, but went back
+to their wark, lookin' sulky. But I've had very little bother with 'em
+sin'. I never see'd a lot o' chaps so altered sin' th' last February,
+as they are. At that time no mortal mon hardly could walk through 'em
+'beawt havin' a bit o' slack-jaw, or a lump o' clay or summat flung
+a-him. But it isn't so, neaw. I consider th' men are doin' very weel.
+But, come; yo mun go deawn wi' me a-lookin' at yon main sewer.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;Oh, let us bear the present as we may,<br />Nor let the golden
+past be all forgot;<br />Hope lifts the curtain of the future day,<br />Where
+peace and plenty smile without a spot<br />On their white garments;
+where the human lot<br />Looks lovelier and less removed from heaven;<br />Where
+want, and war, and discord enter not,<br />But that for which the wise
+have hoped and striven&mdash;<br />The wealth of happiness, to humble
+worth is given.</p>
+<p>&quot;The time will come, as come again it must,<br />When Lancashire
+shall lift her head once more;<br />Her suffering sons, now down amid
+the dust<br />Of Indigence, shall pass through Plenty's door;<br />Her
+commerce cover seas from shore to shore;<br />Her arts arise to highest
+eminence;<br />Her products prove unrivall'd, as of yore;<br />Her valour
+and her virtue&mdash;men of sense<br />And blue-eyed beauties&mdash;England's
+pride and her defence.&quot;<br />&mdash;BLACKBURN BARD.</p>
+<p>Jackson's office as labour-master kept him constantly tramping about
+the sandy moor from one point to another. He was forced to be in sight,
+and on the move, during working hours, amongst his fifteen hundred scattered
+workmen. It was heavy walking, even in dry weather; and as we kneaded
+through the loose soil that hot forenoon, we wiped our foreheads now
+and then. &quot;Ay,&quot; said he, halting, and looking round upon the
+scene, &quot;I can assure you, that when I first took howd o' this job,
+I fund my honds full, as quiet as it looks now. I was laid up for nearly
+a week, an' I had to have two doctors. But, as I'd undertakken the thing,
+I was determined to go through with it to th' best o' my ability; an'
+I have confidence now that we shall be able to feight through th' bad
+time wi' summat like satisfaction, so far as this job's consarned, though
+it's next to impossible to please everybody, do what one will. But come
+wi' me down this road. I've some men agate o' cuttin' a main sewer.
+It's very little farther than where th' cattle pens are i' th' hollow
+yonder; and it's different wark to what you see here. Th' main sewer
+will have to be brought clean across i' this direction, an' it'll be
+a stiffish job. Th' cattle market's goin' to be shifted out o' yon hollow,
+an' in another year or two th' whole scene about here will be changed.&quot;
+Jackson and I both remembered something of the troubles of the cotton
+manufacture in past times. We had seen something of the &quot;shuttle
+gatherings,&quot; the &quot;plug-drawings,&quot; the wild starvation
+riots, and strikes of days gone by; and he agreed with me that one reason
+for the difference of their demeanour during the present trying circumstances
+lies in their increasing intelligence. The great growth of free discussion
+through the cheap press has done no little to work out this salutary
+change. There is more of human sympathy, and of a perception of the
+union of interests between employers and employed than ever existed
+before in the history of the cotton trade. Employers know that their
+workpeople are human beings, of like feelings and passions with themselves,
+and like themselves, endowed with no mean degree of independent spirit
+and natural intelligence; and working men know better than beforetime
+that their employers are not all the heartless tyrants which it has
+been too fashionable to encourage them to believe. The working men have
+a better insight into the real causes of trade panics than they used
+to have; and both masters and men feel more every day that their fortunes
+are naturally bound together for good or evil; and if the working men
+of Lancashire continue to struggle through the present trying pass of
+their lives with the brave patience which they have shown hitherto,
+they will have done more to defeat the arguments of those who hold them
+to be unfit for political power than the finest eloquence of their best
+friends could have done in the same time.</p>
+<p>The labour master and I had a little talk about these things as we
+went towards the lower end of the moor. A few minutes' slow walk brought
+us to the spot, where some twenty of the hardier sort of operatives
+were at work in a damp clay cutting. &quot;This is heavy work for sich
+chaps as these,&quot; said Jackson; &quot;but I let 'em work bi'th lump
+here. I give'em so much clay apiece to shift, and they can begin when
+they like, an' drop it th' same. Th' men seem satisfied wi' that arrangement,
+an' they done wonders, considerin' th' nature o'th job. There's many
+o'th men that come on to this moor are badly off for suitable things
+for their feet. I've had to give lots o' clogs away among'em. You see
+men cannot work with ony comfort among stuff o' this sort without summat
+substantial on. It rives poor shoon to pieces i' no time. Beside, they're
+not men that can ston bein' witchod (wetshod) like some. They haven't
+been used to it as a rule. Now, this is one o'th' finest days we've
+had this year; an' you haven't sin what th' ground is like in bad weather.
+But you'd be astonished what a difference wet makes on this moor. When
+it's bin rain for a day or two th' wark's as heavy again. Th' stuff's
+heavier to lift, an' worse to wheel; an' th' ground is slutchy. That
+tries 'em up, an' poo's their shoon to pieces; an' men that are wakely
+get knocked out o' time with it. But thoose that can stand it get hardened
+by it. There's a great difference; what would do one man's constitution
+good will kill another. Winter time 'll try 'em up tightly. . . Wait
+there a bit,&quot; continued he, &quot;I'll be with you again directly.&quot;
+He then went down into the cutting to speak to some of his men, whilst
+I walked about the edge of the bank. From a distant part of the moor,
+the bray of a jackass came faint upon the sleepy wind. &quot;Yer tho',
+Jone,&quot; said one of the men, resting upon his spade; &quot;another
+cally-weighver gone!&quot; &quot; Ay,&quot; replied Jone, &quot;th'
+owd lad's deawn't his cut. He'll want no more tickets, yon mon!&quot;
+The country folk of Lancashire say that a weaver dies every time a jackass
+brays. Jackson came up from the cutting, and we walked back to where
+the greatest number of men were at work. &quot;You should ha' bin here
+last Saturday,&quot; said he; &quot;we'd rather a curious scene. One
+o' the men coom to me an' axed if I'd allow 'em hauve-an-hour to howd
+a meetin' about havin' a procession i' th' guild week. I gav' 'em consent,
+on condition that they'd conduct their meetin' in an orderly way. Well,
+they gethered together upo' that level theer; an' th' speakers stood
+upo' th' edge o' that cuttin', close to Charnock Fowd. Th' meetin' lasted
+abeawt a quarter ov an hour longer than I bargained for; but they lost
+no time wi' what they had to do. O' went off quietly; an' they finished
+with 'Rule Britannia,' i' full chorus, an' then went back to their wark.
+You'll see th' report in today's paper.&quot;</p>
+<p>This meeting was so curious, and so characteristic of the men, that
+I think the report is worth repeating here:&mdash;&quot;On Saturday
+afternoon, a meeting of the parish labourers was held on the moor, to
+consider the propriety of having a demonstration of their numbers on
+one day in the guild week. There were upwards of a thousand present.
+An operative, named John Houlker, was elected to conduct the proceedings.
+After stating the object of the assembly, a series of propositions were
+read to the meeting by William Gillow, to the effect that a procession
+take place of the parish labourers in the guild week; that no person
+be allowed to join in it except those whose names were on the books
+of the timekeepers; that no one should receive any of the benefits which
+might accrue who did not conduct himself in an orderly manner; that
+all persons joining the procession should be required to appear on the
+ground washed and shaven, and their clogs, shoes, and other clothes
+cleaned; that they were not expected to purchase or redeem any articles
+of clothing in order to take part in the demonstration; and that any
+one absenting himself from the procession should be expelled from any
+participation in the advantages which might arise from the subscriptions
+to be collected by their fellow-labourers. These were all agreed to,
+and a committee of twelve was appointed to collect subscriptions and
+donations. A president, secretary, and treasurer were also elected,
+and a number of resolutions agreed to in reference to the carrying out
+of the details of their scheme. The managing committee consist of Messrs
+W. Gillow, Robert Upton, Thomas Greenwood Riley, John Houlker, John
+Taylor, James Ray, James Whalley, Wm. Banks, Joseph Redhead, James Clayton,
+and James McDermot. The men agreed to subscribe a penny per week to
+form a fund out of which a dinner should be provided, and they expressed
+themselves confident that they could secure the gratuitous services
+of a band of music. During the meeting there was great order. At the
+conclusion, a vote of thanks was accorded to the chairman, to the labour
+master for granting them three-quarters of an hour for the purpose of
+holding the meeting, and to William Gillow for drawing up the resolutions.
+Three times three then followed; after which, George Dewhurst mounted
+a hillock, and, by desire, sang 'Rule Britannia,' the chorus being taken
+up by the whole crowd, and the whole being wound up with a hearty cheer.&quot;
+There are various schemes devised in Preston for regaling the poor during
+the guild; and not the worst of them is the proposal to give them a
+little extra money for that week, so as to enable them to enjoy the
+holiday with their families at home.</p>
+<p>It was now about half-past eleven. &quot;It's getting on for dinner
+time,&quot; said Jackson, looking at his watch. &quot;Let's have a look
+at th' opposite side yonder; an' then we'll come back, an' you'll see
+th' men drop work when the five minutes' bell rings. There's many of
+'em live so far off that they couldn't well get whoam an' back in an
+hour; so, we give'em an hour an' a half to their dinner, now, an' they
+work half an' hour longer i'th afternoon.&quot; We crossed the hollow
+which divides the moor, and went to the top of a sandy cutting at the
+rear of the workhouse. This eminence commanded a full view of the men
+at work on different parts of the ground, with the time-keepers going
+to and fro amongst them, book in hand. Here were men at work with picks
+and spades; there, a slow-moving train of full barrows came along; and,
+yonder, a train of empty barrows stood, with the men sitting upon them,
+waiting. Jackson pointed out some of his most remarkable men to me;
+after which we went up to a little plot of ground behind the workhouse,
+where we found a few apparently older or weaker men, riddling pebbly
+stuff, brought from the bed of the Ribble. The smaller pebbles were
+thrown into heaps, to make a hard floor for the workhouse schoolyard.
+The master of the workhouse said that the others were too big for this
+purpose&mdash;the lads would break the windows with them. The largest
+pebbles were cast aside to be broken up, for the making of garden walks.
+Whilst the master of the workhouse was showing us round the building,
+Jackson looked at his watch again, and said, &quot;Come, we've just
+time to get across again. Th' bell will ring in two or three minutes,
+an' I should like yo to see 'em knock off.&quot; We hurried over to
+the other side, and, before we had been a minute there, the bell rung.
+At the first toll, down dropt the barrows, the half-flung shovelfuls
+fell to the ground, and all labour stopt as suddenly as if the men had
+been moved by the pull of one string. In two minutes Preston Moor was
+nearly deserted, and, like the rest, we were on our way to dinner.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>AMONG THE WIGAN OPERATIVES</p>
+<p>&quot;There'll be some on us missin', aw deawt,<br />Iv there isn't
+some help for us soon.&quot;<br />&mdash;SAMUEL LAYCOCK.</p>
+<p>The next scene of my observations is the town of Wigan. The temporary
+troubles now affecting the working people of Lancashire wear a different
+aspect there on account of such a large proportion of the population
+being employed in the coal mines. The &quot;way of life&quot; and the
+characteristics of the people are marked by strong peculiarities. But,
+apart from these things, Wigan is an interesting place. The towns of
+Lancashire have undergone so much change during the last fifty years
+that their old features are mostly either swept away entirely, or are
+drowned in a great overgrowth of modern buildings. Yet coaly Wigan retains
+visible relics of its ancient character still; and there is something
+striking in its situation. It is associated with some of the most stirring
+events of our history, and it is the scene of many an interesting old
+story, such as the legend of Mabel of Haigh Hall, the crusader's dame.
+The remnant of &quot;Mab's Cross&quot; still stands in Wigan Lane. Some
+of the finest old halls of Lancashire are now, and have been, in its
+neighbourhood, such as Ince Hall and Crooke Hall. It must have been
+a picturesque town in the time of the Commonwealth, when Cavaliers and
+Roundheads met there in deadly contention. Wigan saw a great deal of
+the troubles of that time. The ancient monument, erected to the memory
+of Colonel Tyldesley, upon the ground where he fell at the battle of
+Wigan Lane, only tells a little of the story of Longfellow's puritan
+hero, Miles Standish, who belonged to the Chorley branch of the family
+of Standish of Standish, near this town. The ingenious John Roby, author
+of the &quot;Traditions of Lancashire,&quot; was born here. Round about
+the old market-place, and the fine parish church of St Wilfred, there
+are many quaint nooks still left to tell the tale of centuries gone
+by. These remarks, however, by the way. It is almost impossible to sunder
+any place entirely from the interest which such things lend to it.</p>
+<p>Our present business is with the share which Wigan feels of the troubles
+of our own time, and in this respect it is affected by some conditions
+peculiar to the place. I am told that Wigan was one of the first&mdash;if
+not the very first&mdash;of the towns of Lancashire to feel the nip
+of our present distress. I am told, also, that it was the first town
+in which a Relief Committee was organised. The cotton consumed here
+is almost entirely of the kind from ordinary to middling American, which
+is now the scarcest and dearest of any. Preston is almost wholly a spinning
+town. In Wigan there is a considerable amount of weaving as well as
+spinning. The counts spun in Wigan are lower than those in Preston;
+they range from 10's up to 20's. There is also, as I have said before,
+another peculiar element of labour, which tends to give a strong flavour
+to the conditions of life in Wigan, that is, the great number of people
+employed in the coal mines. This, however, does not much lighten the
+distress which has fallen upon the spinners and weavers, for the colliers
+are also working short time&mdash;an average of four days a week. I
+am told, also, that the coal miners have been subject to so many disasters
+of various kinds during past years, that there is now hardly a collier's
+family which has not lost one or more of its most active members by
+accidents in the pits. About six years ago, the river Douglas broke
+into one of the Ince mines, and nearly two hundred people were drowned
+thereby. These were almost all buried on one day, and it was a very
+distressing scene. Everywhere in Wigan one may meet with the widows
+and orphans of men who have been killed in the mines; and there are
+no few men more or less disabled by colliery accidents, and, therefore,
+dependent either upon the kindness of their employers, or upon the labour
+of their families in the cotton factories. This last failing them, the
+result may be easily guessed. The widows and orphans of coal miners
+almost always fall back upon factory labour for a living; and, in the
+present state of things, this class of people forms a very helpless
+element of the general distress. These things I learnt during my brief
+visit to the town a few days ago. Hereafter, I shall try to acquaint
+myself more deeply and widely with the relations of life amongst the
+working people there.</p>
+<p>I had not seen Wigan during many years before that fine August afternoon.
+In the Main Street and Market Place there is no striking outward sign
+of distress, and yet here, as in other Lancashire towns, any careful
+eye may see that there is a visible increase of mendicant stragglers,
+whose awkward plaintiveness, whose helpless restraint and hesitancy
+of manner, and whose general appearance, tell at once that they belong
+to the operative classes now suffering in Lancashire. Beyond this, the
+sights I first noticed upon the streets, as peculiar to the place, were,
+here, two &quot;Sisters of Mercy,&quot; wending along, in their black
+cloaks and hoods, with their foreheads and cheeks swathed in ghastly
+white bands, and with strong rough shoes upon their feet; and, there,
+passed by a knot of the women employed in the coal mines. The singular
+appearance of these women has puzzled many a southern stranger. All
+grimed with coaldust, they swing along the street with their dinner
+baskets and cans in their hands, chattering merrily. To the waist they
+are dressed like men, in strong trousers and wooden clogs. Their gowns,
+tucked clean up, before, to the middle, hang down behind them in a peaked
+tail. A limp bonnet, tied under the chin, makes up the head-dress. Their
+curious garb, though soiled, is almost always sound; and one can see
+that the wash-tub will reveal many a comely face amongst them. The dusky
+damsels are &quot;to the manner born,&quot; and as they walk about the
+streets, thoughtless of singularity, the Wigan people let them go unheeded
+by. Before I had been two hours in the town, I was put into communication
+with one of the active members of the Relief Committee, who offered
+to devote a few hours of the following day to visitation with me, amongst
+the poor of a district called &quot;Scholes,&quot; on the eastern edge
+of the town. Scholes is the &quot;Little Ireland&quot; of Wigan, the
+poorest quarter of the town. The colliers and factory operatives chiefly
+live there. There is a saying in Wigan &mdash;that, no man's education
+is finished until he has been through Scholes. Having made my arrangements
+for the next day, I went to stay for the night with a friend who lives
+in the green country near Orrell, three miles west of Wigan.</p>
+<p>Early next morning, we rode over to see the quaint town of Upholland,
+and its fine old church, with the little ivied monastic ruin close by.
+We returned thence, by way of &quot;Orrell Pow,&quot; to Wigan, to meet
+my engagement at ten in the forenoon. On our way, we could not help
+noticing the unusual number of foot-sore, travel-soiled people, many
+of them evidently factory operatives, limping away from the town upon
+their melancholy wanderings. We could see, also, by the number of decrepid
+old women, creeping towards Wigan, and now and then stopping to rest
+by the wayside, that it was relief day at the Board of Guardians. At
+ten, I met the gentleman who had kindly offered to guide me for the
+day; and we set off together. There are three excellent rooms engaged
+by the good people of Wigan for the employment and teaching of the young
+women thrown out of work at the cotton mills. The most central of the
+three is the lecture theatre of the Mechanics' Institution. This room
+was the first place we visited. Ten o'clock is the time appointed for
+the young women to assemble. It was a few minutes past ten when we got
+to the place; and there were some twenty of the girls waiting about
+the door. They were barred out, on account of being behind time. The
+lasses seemed very anxious to get in; but they were kept there a few
+minutes till the kind old superintendent, Mr Fisher, made his appearance.
+After giving the foolish virgins a gentle lecture upon the value of
+punctuality, he admitted them to the room. Inside, there were about
+three hundred and fifty girls mustered that morning. They are required
+to attend four hours a day on four days of the week, and they are paid
+9d. a day for their attendance. They are divided into classes, each
+class being watched over by some lady of the committee. Part of the
+time each day is set apart for reading and writing; the rest of the
+day is devoted to knitting and plain sewing. The business of each day
+begins with the reading of the rules, after which, the names are called
+over. A girl in a white pinafore, upon the platform, was calling over
+the names when we entered. I never saw a more comely, clean, and orderly
+assembly anywhere. I never saw more modest demeanour, nor a greater
+proportion of healthy, intelligent faces in any company of equal numbers.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white herrings.<br />Croak
+not, black angel; I have no food for thee.&quot;<br />&mdash;King Lear.</p>
+<p>I lingered a little while in the work-room, at the Mechanics' Institution,
+interested in the scene. A stout young woman came in at a side door,
+and hurried up to the centre of the room with a great roll of coarse
+gray cloth, and lin check, to be cut up for the stitchers. One or two
+of the classes were busy with books and slates; the remainder of the
+girls were sewing and knitting; and the ladies of the committee were
+moving about, each in quiet superintendence of her own class. The room
+was comfortably full, even on the platform; but there was very little
+noise, and no disorder at all. I say again that I never saw a more comely,
+clean, and well conducted assembly than this of three hundred and fifty
+factory lasses. I was told, however, that even these girls show a kind
+of pride of caste amongst one another. The human heart is much the same
+in all conditions of life. I did not stay long enough to be able to
+say more about this place; but one of the most active and intelligent
+ladies connected with the management said to me afterwards, &quot;Your
+wealthy manufacturers and merchants must leave a great deal of common
+stuff lying in their warehouses, and perhaps not very saleable just
+now, which would be much more valuable to us here than ever it will
+be to them. Do you think they would like to give us a little of it if
+we were to ask them nicely?&quot; I said I thought there were many of
+them who would do so; and I think I said right.</p>
+<p>After a little talk with the benevolent old superintendent, whose
+heart, I am sure, is devoted to the business for the sake of the good
+it will do, and the evil it will prevent, I set off with my friend to
+see some of the poor folk who live in the quarter called &quot;Scholes.&quot;
+It is not more than five hundred yards from the Mechanics' Institution
+to Scholes Bridge, which crosses the little river Douglas, down in a
+valley in the eastern part of the town. As soon as we were at the other
+end of the bridge, we turned off at the right hand corner into a street
+of the poorest sort&mdash;a narrow old street, called &quot;Amy Lane.&quot;
+A few yards on the street we came to a few steps, which led up, on the
+right hand side, to a little terrace of poor cottages, overlooking the
+river Douglas. We called at one of these cottages. Though rather disorderly
+just then, it was not an uncomfortable place. It was evidently looked
+after by some homely dame. A clean old cat dosed upon a chair by the
+fireside. The bits of cottage furniture, though cheap, and well worn,
+were all there; and the simple household gods, in the shape of pictures
+and ornaments, were in their places still. A hardy-looking, brown-faced
+man, with close-cropped black hair, and a mild countenance, sat on a
+table by the window, making artificial flies, for fishing. In the corner
+over his head a cheap, dingy picture of the trial of Queen Catherine,
+hung against the wall. I could just make out the tall figure of the
+indignant queen, in the well-known theatrical attitude, with her right
+arm uplifted, and her sad, proud face turned away from the judgment-seat,
+where Henry sits, evidently uncomfortable in mind, as she gushes forth
+that bold address to her priestly foes and accusers. The man sitting
+beneath the picture, told us that he was a throstle-overlooker by trade;
+and that he had been nine months out of work. He said, &quot;There's
+five on us here when we're i'th heawse. When th' wark fell off I had
+a bit o' brass save't up, so we were forced to start o' usin' that.
+But month after month went by, an' th' brass kept gettin' less, do what
+we would; an' th' times geet wur, till at last we fund ersels fair stagged
+up. At after that, my mother helped us as weel as hoo could,&mdash;why,
+hoo does neaw, for th' matter o' that, an' then aw've three brothers,
+colliers; they've done their best to poo us through. But they're nobbut
+wortchin' four days a week, neaw; besides they'n enough to do for their
+own. Aw make no acceawnt o' slotchin' up an' deawn o' this shap, like
+a foo. It would sicken a dog, it would for sure. Aw go a fishin' a bit
+neaw an' then; an' aw cotter abeawt wi' first one thing an' then another;
+but it comes to no sense. Its noan like gradely wark. It makes me maunder
+up an' deawn, like a gonnor wi' a nail in it's yed. Aw wish to God yon
+chaps in Amerikey would play th' upstroke, an' get done wi' their bother,
+so as folk could start o' their wark again.&quot; This was evidently
+a provident man, who had striven hard to get through his troubles decently.
+His position as overlooker, too, made him dislike the thoughts of receiving
+relief amongst the operatives whom he might some day be called upon
+to superintend again.</p>
+<p>A little higher up in Amy Lane we came to a kind of square. On the
+side where the lane continues there is a dead brick wall; on the other
+side, bounding a little space of unpaved ground, rather higher than
+the lane, there are a few old brick cottages, of very mean and dirty
+appearance. At the doors of some of the cottages squalid, untidy women
+were lounging; some of them sitting upon the doorstep, with their elbows
+on their knees, smoking, and looking stolidly miserable. We were now
+getting near where the cholera made such havoc during its last visit,&mdash;a
+pestilent jungle, where disease is always prowling about, &quot;seeking
+whom it can devour.&quot; A few sallow, dirty children were playing
+listlessly about the space, in a melancholy way, looking as if their
+young minds were already &quot;sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,&quot;
+and unconsciously oppressed with wonder why they should be born to such
+a miserable share of human life as this. A tall, gaunt woman, with pale
+face, and thinly clad in a worn and much-patched calico gown, and with
+a pair of &quot;trashes&quot; upon her stockingless feet, sat on the
+step of the cottage nearest the lane. The woman rose when she saw my
+friend. &quot;Come in,&quot; said she; and we followed her into the
+house. It was a wretched place; and the smell inside was sickly. I should
+think a broker would not give half-a-crown for all the furniture we
+saw. The woman seemed simple-minded and very illiterate; and as she
+stood in the middle of the floor, looking vaguely round she said, &quot;Aw
+can hardly ax yo to sit deawn, for we'n sowd o' th' things eawt o'th
+heawse for a bit o' meight; but there is a cheer theer, sich as it is;
+see yo; tak' that.&quot; When she found that I wished to know something
+of her condition&mdash;although this was already well known to the gentleman
+who accompanied me&mdash;she began to tell her story in a simple, off-hand
+way. &quot;Aw've had nine childer,&quot; said she; &quot;we'n buried
+six, an' we'n three alive, an' aw expect another every day.&quot; In
+one corner there was a rickety little low bedstead. There was no bedding
+upon it but a ragged kind of quilt, which covered the ticking. Upon
+this quilt something lay, like a bundle of rags, covered with a dirty
+cloth. &quot;There's one o' th' childer, lies here, ill,&quot; said
+she. &quot;It's getten' th' worm fayver.&quot; When she uncovered that
+little emaciated face, the sick child gazed at me with wild, burning
+eyes, and began to whine pitifully. &quot;Husht, my love,&quot; said
+the poor woman; &quot;he'll not hurt tho'! Husht, now; he's noan beawn
+to touch tho'! He's noan o'th doctor, love. Come, neaw, husht; that's
+a good lass!&quot; I gave the little thing a penny, and one way and
+another we soothed her fears, and she became silent; but the child still
+gazed at me with wild eyes, and the forecast of death on its thin face.
+The mother began again, &quot;Eh, that little thing has suffered summat,&quot;
+said she, wiping her eyes; &quot;an', as aw towd yo before, aw expect
+another every day. They're born nake't, an' th' next'll ha' to remain
+so, for aught that aw con see. But, aw dar not begin o' thinkin' abeawt
+it. It would drive me crazy. We han a little lad o' mi sister's livin'
+wi' us. Aw had to tak' him when his mother deed. Th' little thing's
+noather feyther nor mother, neaw. It's gwon eawt a beggin' this morning
+wi' my two childer. My mother lives with us, too,&quot; continued she;
+&quot;hoo's gooin' i' eighty-four, an' hoo's eighteen pence a week off
+th' teawn. There's seven on us, o'together, an' we'n had eawr share
+o' trouble, one way an' another, or else aw'm chetted. Well, aw'll tell
+yo' what happened to my husban' o' i' two years' time. My husban's a
+collier. Well, first he wur brought whoam wi' three ribs broken&mdash;aw
+wur lyin' in when they brought him whoam. An' then, at after that, he
+geet his arm broken; an' soon after he'd getten o'er that, he wur nearly
+brunt to deeath i' one o'th pits at Ratcliffe; an' aw haven't quite
+done yet, for, after that, he lee ill o'th rheumatic fayver sixteen
+week. That o' happen't i' two years' time. It's God's truth, maister.
+Mr Lea knows summat abeawt it&mdash;an' he stons theer. Yo may have
+a like aim what we'n had to go through. An' that wur when times were'n
+good; but then, everything o' that sort helps to poo folk deawn, yo
+known. We'n had very hard deed, maister&mdash;aw consider we'n had as
+hard deed as anybody livin', takkin' o' together.&quot; This case was
+an instance of the peculiar troubles to which colliers and their families
+are liable; a little representative bit of life among the poor of Wigan.
+From this place we went further up into Scholes, to a dirty square,
+called the &quot;Coal Yard.&quot; Here we called at the house of Peter
+Y_, a man of fifty-one, and a weaver of a kind of stuff called, &quot;broad
+cross-over,&quot; at which work he earned about six shillings a week,
+when in full employ. His wife was a cripple, unable to help herself;
+and, therefore, necessarily a burden. Their children were two girls,
+and one boy. The old woman said, &quot;Aw'm always forced to keep one
+o'th lasses a-whoam, for aw connot do a hond's turn.&quot; The children
+had been brought up to factory labour; but both they and their father
+had been out of work nearly twelve months. During that time the family
+had received relief tickets, amounting to the value of four shillings
+a week. Speaking of the old man, the mother said, &quot;Peter has just
+getten a bit o' wark again, thank God. He's hardly fit for it; but he'll
+do it as lung as he can keep ov his feet.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;Lord! how the people suffer day by day<br />A lingering death,
+through lack of honest bread;<br />And yet are gentle on their starving
+way,<br />By faith in future good and justice led.&quot;<br />&mdash;BLACKBURN
+BARD.</p>
+<p>It is a curious thing to note the various combinations of circumstance
+which exist among the families of the poor. On the surface they seem
+much the same; and they are reckoned up according to number, income,
+and the like. But there are great differences of feeling and cultivation
+amongst them; and then, every household has a story of its own, which
+no statistics can tell. There is hardly a family which has not had some
+sickness, some stroke of disaster, some peculiar sorrow, or crippling
+hindrance, arising within itself, which makes its condition unlike the
+rest. In this respect each family is one string in the great harp of
+humanity&mdash;a string which, touched by the finger of Heaven, contributes
+a special utterance to that universal harmony which is too fine for
+mortal ears.</p>
+<p>From the old weaver's house in &quot;Coal Yard&quot; we went to a
+place close by, called &quot;Castle Yard,&quot; one of the most unwholesome
+nooks I have seen in Wigan yet, though there are many such in that part
+of the town. It was a close, pestilent, little cul de sac, shut in by
+a dead brick wall at the far end. Here we called upon an Irish family,
+seven in number. The mother and two of her daughters were in. The mother
+had sore eyes. The place was dirty, and the air inside was close and
+foul. The miserable bits of furniture left were fit for nothing but
+a bonfire. &quot;Good morning, Mrs K_,&quot; said my friend, as we entered
+the stifling house; &quot;how are you geting on?&quot; The mother stood
+in the middle of the floor, wiping her sore eyes, and then folding her
+hands in a tattered apron; whilst her daughters gazed upon us vacantly
+from the background. &quot;Oh, then,&quot; replied the woman, &quot;things
+is worse wid us entirely, sir, than whenever ye wor here before. I dunno
+what will we do whin the winter comes.&quot; In reply to me, she said,
+&quot;We are seven altogether, wid my husband an' myself. I have one
+lad was ill o' the yallow jaundice this many months, an' there is somethin'
+quare hangin' over that boy this day; I dunno whatever shall we do wid
+him. I was thinkin' this long time could I get a ricommind to see would
+the doctor give him anythin' to rise an appetite in him at all. By the
+same token, I know it is not a convanient time for makin' appetites
+in poor folk just now. But perhaps the doctor might be able to do him
+some good, by the way he would be ready when times mind. Faith, my hands
+is full wid one thing an' another. Ah, thin; but God is good, after
+all. We dunno what is He goin' to do through the dark stroke is an'
+us this day.&quot; Here my friend interrupted her, saying, &quot;Don't
+you think, Mrs K_, that you would be more comfortable if you were to
+keep your house cleaner? It costs nothing, you know, but a little labour;
+and you have nothing else to do just now.&quot; &quot;Ah, then,&quot;
+replied she; &quot;see here, now. I was just gettin' the mug ready for
+that same, whenever ye wor comin' into the yard, I was. &quot;Here she
+turned sharply round, and said to one of the girls, who was standing
+in the background, &quot;Go on, wid ye, now; and clane the flure. Didn't
+I tell ye many a time this day?&quot; The girl smiled, and shuffled
+away into a dingy little room at the rear of the cottage. &quot;Faith,
+sir,&quot; continued the woman, beating time with her hand in the air;
+&quot;faith, sir, it is not aisy for a poor woman to manage unbiddable
+childer.&quot; &quot;What part of Ireland do you come from, Mrs K_?&quot;
+said I. She hesitated a second or two, and played with her chin; then,
+blushing slightly, she replied in a subdued tone, &quot;County Galway,
+sir.&quot; &quot;Well,&quot; said I, &quot;you've no need to be ashamed
+of that.&quot; The woman seemed reassured, and answered at once, &quot;Oh,
+indeed then, sir, I am not ashamed&mdash;why would I? I am more nor
+seventeen year now in England, an' I never disguised my speech, nor
+disowned my country&mdash;nor I never will, aither, plase God.&quot;
+She had said before that her husband was forty-five years of age; and
+now I inquired what age she was. &quot;I am the same age as my husband,&quot;
+replied she. &quot;Forty-five,&quot; said I. &quot;No, indeed, I am
+not forty-five,&quot; answered she; &quot;nor forty naither.&quot; &quot;Are
+you thirty-eight?&quot; &quot;May be I am; I dunno. I don't think I
+am thirty-eight naither; I am the same age as my husband.&quot; It was
+no use talking, so the subject was dropped. As we came away, the woman
+followed my friend to the door, earnestly pleading the cause of some
+family in the neighbourhood, who were in great distress. &quot;See now,&quot;
+said she, &quot;they are a large family, and the poor crayters are starvin'.
+He is a shoemaker, an' he doesn't be gettin' any work this longtime.
+Oh, indeed, then, Mr Lea, God knows thim people is badly off.&quot;
+My friend promised to visit the family she had spoken of, and we came
+away. The smell of the house, and of the court altogether, was so sickening
+that we were glad to get into the air of the open street again.</p>
+<p>It was now about half-past eleven, and my friend said, &quot;We have
+another workroom for young women in the schoolroom of St Catherine's
+Church. It is about five minutes' walk from here; we have just time
+to see it before they break up for dinner.&quot; It was a large, square,
+brick building, standing by the road side, upon high ground, at the
+upper end of Scholes. The church is about fifty yards east of the schoolhouse.
+This workroom was more airy, and better lighted than the one at the
+Mechanics' Institution. The floor was flagged, which will make it colder
+than the other in winter time. There were four hundred girls in this
+room, some engaged in sewing and knitting, others in reading and writing.
+They are employed four days in the week, and they are paid ninepence
+a day, as at the other two rooms in the town. It really was a pleasant
+thing to see their clear, healthy, blond complexions; their clothing,
+so clean and whole, however poor; and their orderly deportment. But
+they had been accustomed to work, and their work had given them a discipline
+which is not sufficiently valued. There are people who have written
+a great deal, and know very little about the influence of factory labour
+upon health,&mdash;it would be worth their while to see some of these
+workrooms. I think it would sweep cobwebs away from the corners of their
+minds. The clothing made up in these workrooms is of a kind suitable
+for the wear of working people, and is intended to be given away to
+the neediest among them, in the coming winter. I noticed a feature here
+which escaped me in the room at the Mechanics' Institution. On one side
+of the room there was a flight of wooden stairs, about six yards wide.
+Upon these steps were seated a number of children, with books in their
+hands. These youngsters were evidently restless, though not noisy; and
+they were not very attentive to their books. These children were the
+worst clad and least clean part of the assembly; and it was natural
+that they should be so, for they were habitual beggars, gathered from
+the streets, and brought there to be taught and fed. When they were
+pointed out to me, I could not help thinking that the money which has
+been spent upon ragged schools is an excellent investment in the sense
+of world-wide good. I remarked to one of the ladies teaching there,
+how very clean and healthy the young women looked. She said that the
+girls had lately been more in the open air than usual. &quot;And,&quot;
+said she, speaking of the class she was superintending, &quot;I find
+these poor girls as apt learners as any other class of young people
+I ever knew.&quot; We left the room just before they were dismissed
+to dinner.</p>
+<p>A few yards from the school, and by the same roadside, we came to
+a little cottage at the end of a row. &quot;We will call here,&quot;
+said my friend; &quot;I know the people very well. &quot;A little, tidy,
+good-looking woman sat by the fire, nursing an infant at the breast.
+The house was clean, and all the humble furniture of the poor man's
+cottage seemed to be still in its place. There were two shelves of books
+hanging against the walls, and a pile of tracts and pamphlets, a foot
+deep, on a small table at the back of the room. I soon found, however,
+that these people were going through their share of the prevalent suffering.
+The family was six in number. The comely little woman said that her
+husband was a weaver of &quot;Cross-over;&quot; and I suppose he would
+earn about six or seven shillings a week at that kind of work; but he
+had been long out of work. His wife said, &quot;I've had to pop my husban's
+trousers an' waistcoat many a time to pay th' rent o' this house.&quot;
+She then began to talk about her first-born, and the theme was too much
+for her. &quot;My owdest child was thirteen when he died,&quot; said
+she. &quot;Eh, he was a fine child. We lost him about two years sin'.
+He was killed. He fell down that little pit o' Wright's, Mr Lea, he
+did.&quot; Then the little woman began to cry, &quot;Eh, my poor lad!
+Eh, my fine little lad! Oh dear,&mdash;oh dear o' me!&quot; What better
+thing could we have done than to say nothing at such a moment. We waited
+a few minutes until she became calm, and then she began to talk about
+a benevolent young governess who used to live in that quarter, and who
+had gone about doing good there, amongst &quot;all sorts and conditions
+of men,&quot; especially the poorest.</p>
+<p>&quot;Eh,&quot; said she; &quot;that was a good woman, if ever there
+was one. Hoo teached a class o' fifty at church school here, though
+hoo wur a Dissenter. An' hoo used to come to this house every Sunday
+neet, an' read th' Scripturs; an' th' place wur olez crammed&mdash;th'
+stairs an o'. Up-groon fellows used to come an' larn fro her, just same
+as childer&mdash;they did for sure&mdash;great rough colliers, an' o'
+mak's. Hoo used to warn 'em again drinkin', an' get 'em to promise that
+they wouldn't taste for sich a time. An' if ever they broke their promise,
+they olez towd her th' truth, and owned to it at once. They like as
+iv they couldn't for shame tell her a lie. There's one of her scholars,
+a blacksmith&mdash;he's above fifty year owd&mdash;iv yo were to mention
+her name to him just now, he'd begin a-cryin', an' he'd ha' to walk
+eawt o'th heause afore he could sattle hissel'. Eh, hoo wur a fine woman;
+an' everything that hoo said wur so striking. Hoo writes to her scholars
+here, once a week; an' hoo wants 'em to write back to her, as mony on
+'em as con do. See yo; that's one ov her letters!&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;Come, child of misfortune, come hither!<br />I'll weep with
+thee, tear for tear.&quot;<br />&mdash;TOM MOORE.</p>
+<p>The weaver's wife spoke very feelingly of the young governess who
+had been so good to the family. Her voice trembled with emotion as she
+told of her kindnesses, which had so won the hearts of the poor folk
+thereabouts, that whenever they hear her name now, their tongues leap
+at once into heart-warm praise of her. It seems to have been her daily
+pleasure to go about helping those who needed help most, without any
+narrowness of distinction; in the spirit of that &quot;prime wisdom&quot;
+which works with all its might among such elements as lie nearest to
+the hand. Children and gray-haired working men crowded into the poor
+cottages to hear her read, and to learn the first elements of education
+at her free classes. She left the town, some time ago, to live in the
+south of England; but the blessings of many who were ready to perish
+in Wigan will follow her all her days, and her memory will long remain
+a garden of good thoughts and feelings to those she has left behind.
+The eyes of the weaver's wife grew moist as she told of the old blacksmith,
+who could not bear to hear her name mentioned without tears. On certain
+nights of the week he used to come regularly with the rest to learn
+to read, like a little child, from that young teacher. As I said in
+my last, she still sends a weekly letter to her poor scholars in Wigan
+to encourage them in their struggles, and to induce as many of them
+as are able to write to her in return. &quot;This is one of her letters,&quot;
+said the poor woman, handing a paper to me. The manner of the handwriting
+was itself characteristic of kind consideration for her untrained readers.
+The words stood well apart. The letters were clearly divided, and carefully
+and distinctly written, in Roman characters, a quarter of an inch long;
+and there was about three-quarters of an inch of space between each
+line, so as to make the whole easier to read by those not used to manuscript.
+The letter ran as follows:&mdash;&quot;Dear friends,&mdash;I send you
+with this some little books, which I hope you will like to try to read;
+soon, I hope, I shall be able to help you with those texts you cannot
+make out by yourselves. I often think of you, dear friends, and wish
+that I could sometimes take a walk to Scholefield's Lane. This wish
+only makes me feel how far I am from you, but then I remember with gladness
+that I may mention you all by name to our one Father, and ask Him to
+bless you. Very often I do ask Him, and one of my strongest wishes is
+that we, who have so often read His message of love together, may all
+of us love the Saviour, and, through Him, be saved from sin. Dear friends,
+do pray to Him. With kind love and best wishes to each one of you, believe
+me always, your sincere friend, __.&quot; I have dwelt a little upon
+this instance of unassuming beneficence, to show that there is a great
+deal of good being done in this world, which is not much heard of, except
+by accident. One meets with it, here and there, as a thirsty traveller
+meets with an unexpected spring in the wilderness, refreshing its own
+plot of earth, without noise or ostentation.</p>
+<p>My friend and I left the weaver's cottage, and came down again into
+a part of Scholes where huddled squalor and filth is to be found on
+all sides. On our way we passed an old tattered Irishwoman, who was
+hurrying along, with two large cabbages clipt tight in her withered
+arms. &quot;You're doin' well, old lady,&quot; said I. &quot;Faith,&quot;
+replied she, &quot;if I had a big lump ov a ham bone, now, wouldn't
+we get over this day in glory, anyhow. But no matter. There's not wan
+lafe o' them two fellows but will be clane out o' sight before the clock
+strikes again.&quot; The first place we called at in this quarter was
+a poor half-empty cottage, inhabited by an old widow and her sick daughter.
+The girl sat there pale and panting, and wearing away to skin and bone.
+She was far gone in consumption. Their only source of maintenance was
+the usual grant of relief from the committee, but this girl's condition
+needed further consideration. The old widow said to my friend, &quot;Aw
+wish yo could get me some sort o' nourishment for this lass, Mr Lea;
+aw cannot get it mysel', an' yo see'n heaw hoo is.&quot; My friend took
+a note of the case, and promised to see to it at once. When great weltering
+populations, like that of Lancashire, are thrown suddenly into such
+a helpless state as now, it is almost impossible to lay hold at once
+of every nice distinction of circumstances that gives a speciality of
+suffering to the different households of the poor. But I believe, as
+this time of trouble goes on, the relief committees are giving a more
+careful and delicate consideration to the respective conditions of poor
+families.</p>
+<p>After leaving the old widow's house, as we went farther down into
+the sickly hive of penury and dirt, called &quot;Scholes,&quot; my friend
+told me of an intelligent young woman, a factory operative and a Sunday-school
+teacher, who had struggled against starvation, till she could bear it
+no longer; and, even after she had accepted the grant of relief, she
+&quot;couldn't for shame&quot; fetch the tickets herself, but waited
+outside whilst a friend of hers went in for them. The next house we
+visited was a comfortable cottage. The simple furniture was abundant,
+and good of its kind, and the whole was remarkably clean. Amongst the
+wretched dwellings in its neighbourhood, it shone &quot;like a good
+deed in a naughty world.&quot; On the walls there were several Catholic
+pictures, neatly framed; and a large old-fashioned wooden wheel stood
+in the middle of the floor, with a quantity of linen yarn upon it. Old
+Stephen I__ and his cosy goodwife lived there. The old woman was &quot;putting
+the place to rights&quot; after their noontide meal; and Stephen was
+&quot;cottering&quot; about the head of the cellar steps when we went
+in. There were a few healthy plants in the windows, and everything gave
+evidence of industry and care. The good-tempered old couple were very
+communicative. Old Stephen was a weaver of diaper; and, when he had
+anything to do, he could earn about eight shillings a week. &quot;Some
+can get more than that at the same work,&quot; said he; &quot;but I
+am gettin' an old man, ye see. I shall be seventy-three on the 10th
+of next October, and, beside that, I have a very bad arm, which is a
+great hindrance to me.&quot; &quot;He has had very little work for months,
+now,&quot; said his wife; &quot;an' what makes us feel it more, just
+now, is that my son is over here on a visit to us, from Oscott College.
+He is studying for the priesthood. He went to St John's, here, in Wigan,
+for five years, as a pupil teacher; an' he took good ways, so the principals
+of the college proposed to educate him for the Church of Rome. He was
+always a good boy, an' a bright one, too. I wish we had been able to
+entertain him better. But he knows that the times are again us. He is
+twenty-four years of age; an' I often think it strange that his father's
+birthday and his own fall on the same day of the month&mdash;the 10th
+of October. I hope we'll both live to see him an ornament to his profession
+yet. There is only the girl, an' Stephen, an' myself left at home now,
+an' we have hard work to pull through, I can assure ye; though there
+are many people a dale worse off than we are.&quot;</p>
+<p>From this place we went up to a street called &quot;Vauxhall Road.&quot;
+In the first cottage we called at here the inmates were all out of work,
+as usual, and living upon relief. There happened to be a poor old white-haired
+weaver sitting in the house,&mdash;an aged neighbour out of work, who
+had come in to chat with my friend a bit. My friend asked how he was
+getting on. &quot;Yo mun speak up,&quot; said the woman of the house,
+&quot;he's very deaf.&quot; &quot;What age are yo, maister?&quot; said
+I. &quot;What?&quot; &quot;How old are yo?&quot; &quot;Aw'm a beamer,&quot;
+replied the old man, &quot;a twister-in,&mdash;when there's ought doin'.
+But it's nowt ov a trade neaw. Aw'll tell yo what ruins me; it's these
+lung warps. They maken 'em seven an' eight cuts in, neaw an' then. There's
+so mony 'fancies' an' things i' these days; it makes my job good to
+nought at o' for sich like chaps as me. When one gets sixty year owd,
+they needen to go to schoo again neaw; they getten o'erta'en wi' so
+many kerly-berlies o' one mak and another. Mon, owd folk at has to wortch
+for a livin' cannot keep up wi' sich times as these,&mdash;nought o'th
+sort.&quot; &quot;Well, but how do you manage to live?&quot; &quot;Well,
+aw can hardly tell,&mdash;aw'll be sunken iv aw can tell. It's very
+thin pikein'; but very little does for me, an' aw've nought but mysel'.
+Yo see'n, aw get a bit ov a job neaw an' then, an' a scrat amung th'
+rook, like an owd hen. But aw'll tell yo one thing; aw'll not go up
+yon, iv aw can help it,&mdash;aw'll not.&quot; (&quot;Up yon&quot; meant
+to the Board of Guardians.) &quot;Eh, now,&quot; said the woman of the
+house, &quot;aw never see'd sich a man as him i' my life. See yo, he'll
+sit an' clem fro mornin' to neet afore he'll ax oather relief folk or
+onybody else for a bite.&quot;</p>
+<p>In the same street we called at a house where there was a tall, pale
+old man, sitting sadly in an old arm-chair, by the fireside. The little
+cottage was very sweet and orderly. Every window was cleaned to its
+utmost nook of glass, and every bit of metal was brightened up to the
+height. The flagged floor was new washed; and everything was in its
+own place. There were a few books on little shelves, and a Bible lay
+on the window-sill; and there was a sad, chapel-like stillness in the
+house. A clean, staid-looking girl stood at a table, peeling potatoes
+for dinner. The old man said, &quot;We are five, altogether, in this
+house. This lass is a reeler. I am a weighver; but we'n bin out o' wark
+nine months, now. We'n bin force't to tak to relief at last; an' we'n
+getten five tickets. We could happen ha' manage't better,&mdash;but
+aw'm sore wi' rheumatism, yo see'n. Aw've had a bit o' weighvin' i'th
+heawse mony a day, but aw've th' rheumatic so bad i' this hond&mdash;it's
+hond that aw pick wi'&mdash;that aw couldn't bide to touch a fither
+with it, bless yo. Aw have th' rheumatic all o'er mo, nearly; an' it
+leads one a feaw life. Yo happen never had a touch on it, had yo?&quot;
+&quot;Never.&quot; &quot;Well; yo're weel off. When is this war to end,
+thinken yo?&quot; &quot;Nay; that's a very hard thing to tell.&quot;
+&quot; Well, we mun grin an' abide till it's o'er, aw guess. It's a
+mad mak o' wark. But it'll happen turn up for best i'th end ov o'.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;Mother, heaw leets we han no brade,&mdash;<br />Heawever con
+it be?<br />Iv aw don't get some brade to eat,<br />Aw think 'at aw
+mun dee.&quot;<br /><i>&mdash;Hungry Child</i>.</p>
+<p>It was about noon when we left the old weaver, nursing his rheumatic
+limbs by the side of a dim fire, in his chapel-like little house. His
+daughter, a tall, clean, shy girl, began to peel a few potatoes just
+before we came away. It is a touching thing, just now, to see so many
+decent cottages of thrifty working men brought low by the strange events
+of these days; cottages in which everything betokens the care of well-conducted
+lives, and where the sacred fire of independent feeling is struggling
+through the long frost of misfortune with patient dignity. It is a touching
+thing to see the simple joys of life, in homes like these, crushed into
+a speechless endurance of penury, and the native spirit of self-reliance
+writhing in unavoidable prostration, and hoping on from day to day for
+better times. I have seen many such places in my wanderings during these
+hard days&mdash;cottages where all was so sweet and orderly, both in
+person and habitation, that, but for the funereal stillness which sat
+upon hunger-nipt faces, a stranger would hardly have dreamt that the
+people dwelling there were undergoing any uncommon privation. I have
+often met with such people in my rambles,&mdash;I have often found them
+suffering pangs more keen than hunger alone could inflict, because they
+arose from the loss of those sweet relations of independence which are
+dear to many of them as life itself. With such as these&mdash;the shy,
+the proud, the intelligent and uncomplaining endurers&mdash;hunger is
+not the hardest thing that befalls:-</p>
+<p>&quot;When the mind's free,<br />The body's delicate; the tempest
+in their minds<br />Doth from their senses take all else,<br />Save
+what beats there.&quot;</p>
+<p>People of this temper are more numerous amongst our working population
+than the world believes, because they are exactly of the kind least
+likely to be heard of. They will fight their share of the battle of
+this time out as nobly as they have begun it; and it will be an ill
+thing for the land that owns them if full justice is not done to their
+worth, both now and hereafter.</p>
+<p>In the same street where the old weaver lived, we called upon a collier's
+family&mdash;a family of ten in number. The colliers of Wigan have been
+suffering a good deal lately, among the rest of the community, from
+shortness of labour. It was dinner-time when we entered the house, and
+the children were all swarming about the little place clamouring for
+their noontide meal. With such a rough young brood, I do not wonder
+that the house was not so tidy as some that I had seen. The collier's
+wife was a decent, good-tempered-looking woman, though her face was
+pale and worn, and bore evidence of the truth of her words, when she
+said, &quot;Bless your life, aw'm poo'd to pieces wi' these childer!&quot;
+She sat upon a stool, nursing a child at the breast, and doing her best
+to still the tumult of the others, who were fluttering about noisily.
+&quot;Neaw, Sammul,&quot; said she, &quot;theaw'll ha' that pot upo
+th' floor in now,&mdash;thae little pousement thae! Do keep eawt o'
+mischief,&mdash;an' make a less din, childer, win yo: for my yed's fair
+maddle't wi' one thing an' another . . . Mary, tak' th' pon off th'
+fire, an' reach me yon hippin' off th' oondur; an' then sit tho deawn
+somewheer, do,&mdash;thae'll be less bi th' legs.&quot; The children
+ranged seemingly from about two months up to fourteen years of age.
+Two of the youngest were sitting upon the bottom step of the stairs,
+eating off one plate. Four rough lads were gathered round a brown dish,
+which stood upon a little deal table in the middle of the floor. These
+four were round-headed little fellows, all teeming with life. &quot;Yon
+catched us eawt o'flunters, (out of order,)&quot; said the poor woman
+when we entered; &quot;but what con a body do?&quot; We were begging
+that she would not disturb herself, when one of the lads at the table
+called out, &quot;Mother; look at eawr John. He keeps pushin' me off
+th' cheer!&quot; &quot;Eh, John,&quot; replied she; &quot;I wish thy
+feyther were here! Thae'rt olez tormentin' that lad. Do let him alone,
+wilto&mdash;or else aw'll poo that toppin' o' thine, smartly&mdash;aw
+will! An' do see iv yo connot behave yorsels!&quot; &quot;Well,&quot;
+said John; &quot;he keeps takkin' my puddin'!&quot; &quot;Eh, what a
+story,&quot; replied the other little fellow; &quot;it wur thee, neaw!&quot;
+&quot; Aw'll tell yo what it is,&quot; said the mother, &quot;iv yo
+two connot agree, an' get your dinner quietly, aw'll tak that dish away;
+an' yo'st not have another bite this day. Heaw con yo for shame!&quot;
+This quietened the lads a little, and they went on with their dinner.
+At another little table under the back window, two girls stood, dining
+off one plate. The children were all eating a kind of light pudding,
+known in Lancashire by the name of &quot;Berm-bo,&quot; or, &quot;Berm-dumplin',&quot;
+made of flour and yeast, mixed with a little suet. The poor woman said
+that her children were all &quot;hearty-etten,&quot; (all hearty eaters,)
+especially the lads; and she hardly knew what to make for them, so as
+to have enough for the whole. &quot;Berm-dumplin',&quot; was as satisfying
+as anything that she could get, and it would &quot;stick to their ribs&quot;
+better than &quot;ony mak o' swill;&quot; besides, the children liked
+it. Speaking of her husband, she said, &quot;He were eawt o' wark a
+good while; but he geet a shop at last, at Blackrod, abeawt four mile
+off Wigan. When he went a-wortchin' to Blackrod, at first, nought would
+sarve but he would walk theer an' back every day, so as to save lodgin'
+brass,&mdash;an sich like. Aw shouldn't ha' care't iv it had nobbut
+bin a mile, or two even; for aw'd far rayther that he had his meals
+comfortable awhoam, an' his bits o' clooas put reet; but Lord bless
+yo,&mdash;eight mile a day, beside a hard day's wark,&mdash;it knocked
+him up at last,&mdash;it were so like. He kept sayin', 'Oh, he could
+do it,' an' sich like; but aw could see that he were fair killin' hissel',
+just for the sake o' comin' to his own whoam ov a neet; an' for th'
+sake o' savin' two or three shillin'; so at last aw turned Turk, an'
+made him tak lodgin's theer. Aw'd summut to do to persuade him at first,
+an' aw know that he's as whoam-sick as a chylt that's lost its mother,
+just this minute; but then, what's th' matter o' that,&mdash;it wouldn't
+do for mo to have him laid up, yo known. . . . Oh, he's a very feelin'
+mon. Aw've sin him when he couldn't finish his bit o' dinner for thinkin'
+o' somebody that were clemmin'.&quot; Speaking of the hardships the
+family had experienced, she said, &quot;Eh, bless yo! There's some folk
+can sit i'th heawse an' send their childer to prow eawt a-beggin' in
+a mornin', regilar,&mdash;but eawr childer wouldn't do it,&mdash;an',
+iv they would, aw wouldn' let 'em,&mdash;naw, not iv we were clemmin'
+to deeoth,&mdash;to my thinkin'.&quot;</p>
+<p>The woman was quite right. Among the hard-tried operatives of Lancashire
+I have seen several instances in which they have gone out daily to beg;
+and some rare cases, even, in which they have stayed moodily at home
+themselves and sent their children forth to beg; and anybody living
+in this county will have noticed the increase of mendicancy there, during
+the last few months. No doubt professional beggars have taken large
+advantage of this unhappy time to work upon the sympathies of those
+easy givers who cannot bear to hear the wail of distress, however simulated&mdash;who
+prefer giving at once, because it &quot;does their own hearts good,&quot;
+to the trouble of inquiring or the pain of refusing,&mdash;who would
+rather relieve twenty rogues than miss the blessing of one honest soul
+who was ready to perish,&mdash;those kind-hearted, free-handed scatterers
+of indiscriminate benevolence who are the keen-eyed, whining cadger's
+chief support, his standing joke, and favourite prey; and who are more
+than ever disposed to give to whomsoever shall ask of them in such a
+season as this. All the mendicancy which appears on our streets does
+not belong to the suffering operatives of Lancashire. But, apart from
+those poor, miserable crawlers in the gutters of life, who live by habitual
+and unnecessary beggary, great and continued adversity is a strong test
+of the moral tone of any people. Extreme poverty, and the painful things
+which follow in its train&mdash;these are &quot;bad to bide&quot; with
+the best of mankind. Besides, there are always some people who, from
+causes within themselves, are continually at their wits' end to keep
+the wolf from the door, even when employment is plentiful with them;
+and there are some natures too weak to bear any long strain of unusual
+poverty without falling back upon means of living which, in easy circumstances,
+they would have avoided, if not despised. It is one evil of the heavy
+pressure of the times; for there is fear that among such as these, especially
+the young and plastic, some may become so familiar with that beggarly
+element which was offensive to their minds at first&mdash;may so lose
+the tone of independent pride, and become &quot;subdued to what they
+work in, like the dyer's hand,&quot;&mdash;that they may learn to look
+upon mendicancy as an easy source of support hereafter, even in times
+of less difficulty than the present.</p>
+<p>Happily, such weakness as this is not characteristic of the English
+people; but &quot;they are well kept that God keeps,&quot; and perhaps
+it would not be wise to cramp the hand of relief too much at a time
+like this, to a people who have been, and will be yet, the hope and
+glory of the land.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;Poor Tom's a-cold! Who gives anything to poor Tom?&quot;<br /><i>&mdash;King
+Lear</i>.</p>
+<p>One sometimes meets with remarkable differences of condition in the
+households of poor folk, which stand side by side in the same street.
+I am not speaking of the uncertain shelters of those who struggle upon
+the skirts of civilisation, in careless, uncared-for wretchedness, without
+settled homes, or regular occupation,&mdash;the miserable camp followers
+of life's warfare,&mdash;living habitually from hand to mouth, in a
+reckless wrestle with the world, for mere existence. I do not mean these,
+but the households of our common working people. Amongst the latter
+one sometimes meets with striking differences, in cleanliness, furniture,
+manners, intellectual acquirements, and that delicate compound of mental
+elements called taste. Even in families whose earnings have been equal
+in the past, and who are just now subject alike to the same pinch of
+adversity, these disparities are sometimes very great. And, although
+there are cases in which the immediate causes of these differences are
+evident enough in the habits of the people, yet, in others, the causes
+are so obscure, that the wisest observer would be most careful in judging
+respecting them. I saw an example of this in a little bye-street, at
+the upper end of Scholes&mdash;a quarter of Wigan where the poorest
+of the poor reside, and where many decent working people have lately
+been driven for cheap shelter by the stress of the times. Scholes is
+one of those ash-pits of human life which may be found in almost any
+great town; where, among a good deal of despised stuff, which by wise
+treatment might possibly be made useful to the world, many a jewel gets
+accidentally thrown away, and lost. This bye-street of mean brick cottages
+had an unwholesome, outcast look; and the sallow, tattered women, lounging
+about the doorways, and listlessly watching the sickly children in the
+street, evinced the prevalence of squalor and want there. The very children
+seemed joyless at their play; and everything that met the eye foretold
+that there was little chance of finding anything in that street but
+poverty in its most prostrate forms. But, even in this unpromising spot,
+I met with an agreeable surprise.</p>
+<p>The first house we entered reminded me of those clean, lone dwellings,
+up in the moorland nooks of Lancashire, where the sweet influences of
+nature have free play; where the people have a hereditary hatred of
+dirt and disorder; and where, even now, many of the hardy mountain folk
+are half farmers, half woollen weavers, doing their weaving in their
+own quiet houses, where the smell of the heather and the song of the
+wild bird floats in at the workman's window, blent with the sounds of
+rindling waters,&mdash;doing their weaving in green sequestered nooks,
+where the low of kine, and the cry of the moorfowl can be heard; and
+bearing the finished &quot;cuts&quot; home upon their backs to the distant
+town. All was so bright in this little cottage,&mdash;so tidy and serene,&mdash;that
+the very air seemed clearer there than in the open street. The humble
+furniture, good of its kind, was all shiny with &quot;elbow grease,&quot;
+and some parts of it looked quaint and well-preserved, like the heirlooms
+of a careful cottage ancestry. The well polished fire-irons, and other
+metal things, seemed to gather up the diffuse daylight and fling it
+back in concentrated radiances that illuminated the shady cottage with
+cheerful beauty. The little shelf of books, the gleaming window, with
+its healthy pot flowers, the perfect order, and the trim sweetness of
+everything, reminded me, as I have said, of the better sort of houses
+where simple livers dwell, up among the free air of the green hills&mdash;those
+green hills of Lancashire, the remembrance of which will always stir
+my heart as long as it can stir to anything. This cottage, in comparison
+with most of those which I had seen in Scholes, looked like a glimpse
+of the star-lit blue peeping through the clouds on a gloomy night. I
+found that it was the house of a widower, a weaver of diaper, who was
+left with a family of eight children to look after. Two little girls
+were in the house, and they were humbly but cleanly clad. One of them
+called her father up from the cellar, where he was working at his looms.
+He was a mild, thoughtful-looking man, something past middle age. I
+could not help admiring him as he stood in the middle of the floor with
+his unsleeved arms folded, uttering quiet jets of simple speech to my
+friend, who had known him before. He said that he hardly ever got anything
+to do now, but when he was at work he could make about 7s. 2d. a week
+by weaving two cuts. He was receiving six tickets weekly from the Relief
+Committee, which, except the proceeds of a little employment now and
+then, was all that the family of nine had to depend upon for food, firing,
+clothes, and rent. He said that he was forced to make every little spin
+out as far as it would; but it kept him bare and busy, and held his
+nose &quot;everlastingly deawn to th' grindlestone.&quot; But he didn't
+know that it was any use complaining about a thing that neither master
+nor man could help. He durst say that he could manage to grin and bide
+till things came round, th' same as other folk had to do. Grumbling,
+in a case like this, was like &quot;fo'in eawt wi' th' elements,&quot;
+(quarrelling with a storm.) One of his little girls was on her knees,
+cleaning the floor. She stopped a minute, to look at my friend and me.
+&quot;Come, my lass,&quot; said her father, &quot;get on wi' thi weshin'.&quot;
+&quot;I made application for th' watchman's place at Leyland Mill,&quot;
+continued he, &quot;but I wur to lat. . . . There's nought for it,&quot;
+continued he, as we came out of the house, &quot;there's nought for
+it but to keep one's een oppen, an' do as weel as they con, till it
+blows o'er.&quot;</p>
+<p>A few yards from this house, we looked in at a slip of a cottage,
+at the corner of the row. It was like a slice off some other cottage,
+stuck on at the end of the rest, to make up the measure of the street;
+for it was less than two yards wide, by about four yards long. There
+was only one small window, close to the door, and it was shrouded by
+a dingy cotton blind. When we first entered, I could hardly see what
+there was in that gloomy cell; but when the eyes became acquainted with
+the dimness within, we found that there was neither fire nor furniture
+in the place, except at the far end, where an old sick woman lay gasping
+upon three chairs, thinly covered from the cold. She was dying of asthma.
+At her right hand there was another rickety chair, by the help of which
+she raised herself up from her hard bed. She said that she had never
+been up stairs during the previous twelve months, but had lain there,
+at the foot of the stairs, all that time. She had two daughters. They
+were both out of the house; and they had been out of work a long time.
+One of them had gone to Miss B_'s to learn to sew. &quot;She gets her
+breakfast before she starts,&quot; said the old woman, &quot;an' she
+takes a piece o' bread with her, to last for th' day.&quot; It was a
+trouble to her to talk much, so we did not stop long; but I could not
+help feeling sorry that the poor old soul had not a little more comfort
+to smooth her painful passage to the grave. On our way from this place,
+we went into a cottage near the &quot;Coal Yard,&quot; where a tall,
+thin Irishwoman was washing some tattered clothes, whilst her children
+played about the gutter outside. This was a family of seven, and they
+were all out of work, except the father, who was away, trying to make
+a trifle by hawking writing-paper and envelopes. This woman told us
+that she was in great trouble about one of her children&mdash;the eldest
+daughter, now grown up to womanhood. &quot;She got married to a sailor
+about two year ago,&quot; said she, &quot;an' he wint away a fortnit
+after, an' never was heard of since. She never got the scrape ov a pen
+from him to say was he alive or dead. She never heard top nor tail of
+him since he wint from her; an' the girl is just pinin' away.&quot;</p>
+<p>Poor folk have their full share of the common troubles of life, apart
+from the present distress. The next place we visited was the &quot;Fleece
+Yard,&quot; another of those unhealthy courts, of which there are so
+many in Scholes&mdash;where poverty and dirt unite to make life doubly
+miserable. In this yard we went up three or four steps into a little
+disorderly house, where a family of eleven was crowded. Not one of the
+eleven was earning anything except the father, who was working for ls.
+3d. a day. In addition to this the family received four tickets weekly
+from the Relief Committee. There were several of the children in, and
+they looked brisk and healthy, in spite of the dirt and discomfort of
+the place; but the mother was sadly &quot;torn down&quot; by the cares
+of her large family. The house had a sickly smell. Close to the window,
+a little, stiff built, bullet-headed lad stood, stript to the waist,
+sputtering and splashing as he washed himself in a large bowl of water,
+placed upon a stool. By his side there was another lad three or four
+years older, and the two were having a bit of famous fun together, quite
+heedless of all else. The elder kept ducking the little fellow's head
+into the water, upon which the one who was washing himself sobbed, and
+spat, and cried out in great glee, &quot;Do it again, Jack!&quot; The
+mother, seeing us laugh at the lads, said, &quot;That big un's been
+powin' tother, an' th' little monkey's gone an' cut every smite o' th'
+lad's toppin' off. &quot;&quot; Well,&quot; said the elder lad, &quot;Aw
+did it so as nobody can lug him. &quot;And it certainly was a close
+clip. We could see to the roots of the little fellow's hair all over
+his round, hard head. &quot;Come,&quot; said the mother, &quot;yo two
+are makin' a nice floor for mo. Thae'll do, mon; arto beawn to lother
+o' th' bit o' swoap away that one has to wash wi'; gi's howd on't this
+minute, an' go thi ways an' dry thisel', thae little pouse, thae.&quot;
+We visited several other places in Scholes that day, but of these I
+will say something hereafter. In the evening I returned home, and the
+thing that I best remember hearing on the way was an anecdote of two
+Lancashire men, who had been disputing a long time about something that
+one of them knew little of. At last the other turned to him, and said,
+&quot;Jem; does thae know what it is that makes me like thee so weel,
+owd brid?&quot; &quot;Naw; what is it?&quot; &quot;Why; it's becose
+thae'rt sich a ___ foo!&quot; &quot;Well,&quot; replied the other, &quot;never
+thee mind that;&quot; and then, alluding to the subject they had been
+disputing about, he said, &quot;Thae knows, Joe, aw know thae'rt reet
+enough; but, by th' men, aw'll not give in till mornin'.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&quot;Here, take this purse, thou whom the Heaven's plagues<br />Have
+humbled to all strokes.&quot;<br /><i>&mdash;King Lear</i>.</p>
+<p>In the afternoon of the last day I spent in Wigan, as I wandered
+with my friend from one cottage to another, in the long suburban lane
+called &quot;Hardy Butts,&quot; I bethought me how oft I had met with
+this name of &quot;Butts &quot;connected with places in or close to
+the towns of Lancashire. To me the original application of the name
+seems plain, and not uninteresting. In the old days, when archery was
+common in England, the bowmen of Lancashire were famous; and it is more
+than likely that these yet so-called &quot;Butts&quot; are the places
+where archery was then publicly practised. When Sir Edward Stanley led
+the war-smiths of Lancashire and Cheshire to Flodden Field, the men
+of Wigan are mentioned as going with the rest. And among those &quot;fellows
+fearce and freshe for feight,&quot; of whom the quaint old alliterative
+ballad describes the array:-</p>
+<p>&quot;A stock of striplings strong of heart,<br />Brought up from
+babes with beef and bread,<br />From Warton unto Warrington<br />From
+Wigan unto Wiresdale&mdash;&quot;</p>
+<p>and, from a long list of the hills, and cloughs, and old towns of
+the county&mdash;the bowmen of Lancashire did their share of work upon
+that field. The use of the bow lingered longer in Lancashire than in
+some parts of the kingdom&mdash;longer in England generally than many
+people suppose. Sir Walter Scott says, in a note to his &quot;Legend
+of Montrose:&quot; &quot;Not only many of the Highlanders in Montrose's
+army used these antique missiles, but even in England the bow and quiver,
+once the glory of the bold yeomen of that land, were occasionally used
+during the great civil wars.&quot;</p>
+<p>But I have said enough upon this subject in this place. My friend's
+business, and mine, in Wigan, that day, was connected with other things.
+He was specially wishful that I should call upon an acquaintance of
+his, who lived in &quot;Hardy Butts,&quot; an old man and very poor;
+a man heavily stricken by fortune's blows, yet not much tamed thereby;
+a man &quot;steeped to the lips&quot; in poverty, yet of a jocund spirit;
+a humorist and a politician, among his humble companions. I felt curious
+to see this &quot;Old John,&quot; of whom I heard so much. We went to
+the cottage where he lived. There was very little furniture in the place,
+and, like the house itself, it was neither good nor clean; but then
+the poverty-stricken pair were very old, and, so far as household comfort
+went, they had to look after themselves. When we entered, the little
+wrinkled woman sat with her back to us, smoking, and gazing at the dirty
+grate, where a few hot cinders glowed dimly in the lowmost bars. &quot;Where's
+John?&quot; said my friend. &quot;He hasn't bin gone eawt aboon five
+minutes,&quot; said she, turning round to look at us, &quot;Wur yo wantin'
+him?&quot; &quot;Yes, I should like to see him.&quot; She looked hard
+at my friend again, and then cried out, &quot;Eh, is it yo? Come, an'
+sit yo deawn! aw'll go an' see iv aw can root him up for yo!&quot; But
+we thought it as well to visit some other houses in the neighbourhood,
+calling at old John's again afterwards; so we told the old woman, and
+came away.</p>
+<p>My friend was well known to the poor people of that neighbourhood
+as a member of the Relief Committee, and we had not gone many yards
+down &quot;Hardy Butts&quot; before we drew near where three Irishwomen
+were sitting upon the doorsteps of a miserable cottage, chattering,
+and looking vacantly up and down the slutchy street. As soon as they
+caught sight of my friend, one of the women called out, &quot;Eh, here's
+Mr Lea! Come here, now, Mr Lea, till I spake to ye. Ah, now; couldn't
+ye do somethin' for old Mary beyant there? Sure the colour of hunger's
+in that woman's face. Faith, it's a pity to see the way she is,&mdash;neither
+husband nor son, nor chick nor child, nor bit nor sup, barrin' what
+folk that has nothin' can give to her,&mdash;the crayter.&quot; &quot;
+Oh, indeed, then, sir,&quot; said another, &quot;I'll lave it to God;
+but that woman is starvin'. She is little more nor skin an' bone,&mdash;and
+that's goin' less. Faith, she's not long for this world, any how. .
+. . Bridget, ye might run an' see can she come here a minute. . . .
+But there she is, standin' at the corner. Mary! Come here, now, woman,
+till ye see the gentleman.&quot; She was a miserable-looking creature;
+old, and ill, and thinly-clothed in rags, with a dirty cloth tied round
+her head. My friend asked her some questions, which she answered slowly,
+in a low voice that trembled with more than the weakness of old age.
+He promised to see to the relief of her condition immediately&mdash;
+and she thanked him, but so feebly, that it seemed to me as if she had
+not strength enough left to care much whether she was relieved or not.</p>
+<p>But, as we came away, the three Irishwomen, sitting upon the door-steps,
+burst forth into characteristic expressions of gratitude. &quot;Ah!
+long life to ye, Mr Lea! The prayer o' the poor is wid ye for evermore.
+If there was ony two people goin' to heaven alive, you'll be wan o'
+them. . .&nbsp; That ye may never know want nor scant,&mdash;for the
+good heart that's batein' in ye, Mr Lea.&quot; We now went through some
+of the filthy alleys behind &quot;Hardy Butts,&quot; till we came to
+the cottage of a poor widow and her two daughters. The three were entirely
+dependent upon the usual grant of relief from the committee. My friend
+called here to inquire why the two girls had not been to school during
+the previous few days; and whilst their mother was explaining the reason,
+a neighbour woman who had seen us enter, looked in at the door, and
+said, &quot;Hey! aw say, Mr Lea!&quot; &quot;Well, what's the matter?&quot;
+&quot; Whaw, there's a woman i'th next street at's gettin' four tickets
+fro th' relief folk, reggilar, an' her husban's addlin' thirty shillin'
+a week o' t' time, as a sinker&mdash;he is for sure. Aw 'm noan tellin'
+yo a wort ov a lie. Aw consider sick wark as that's noan reet&mdash;an'
+so mony folk clemmin' as there is i' Wigan.&quot; He made a note of
+the matter; but he told me afterwards that such reports were often found
+to be untrue, having their origin sometimes in private spite or personal
+contention of some kind.</p>
+<p>In the next house we called at, a widow woman lived, with her married
+daughter, who had a child at the breast. The old woman told her story
+herself; the daughter never spoke a word, so far as I remember, but
+sat there, nursing, silent and sad, with half-averted face, and stealing
+a shy glance at us now and then, when she thought we were not looking
+at her. It was a clean cottage, though it was scantily furnished with
+poor things; and they were both neat and clean in person, though their
+clothing was meagre and far worn. I thought, also, that the old woman's
+language, and the countenances of both of them, indicated more natural
+delicacy of feeling, and more cultivation, than is common amongst people
+of their condition. The old woman said, &quot;My daughter has been eawt
+o' work a long time. I can make about two shillings and sixpence a-week,
+an' we've a lodger that pays us two shillings a week; but we've three
+shillings a-week to pay for rent, an' we must pay it, too, or else turn
+out. But I'm lookin' for a less heawse; for we cannot afford to stop
+here any longer, wi' what we have comin' in, &mdash;that is, if we're
+to live at o'.&quot; I thought the house they were in was small enough
+and mean enough for the poorest creature, and, though it was kept clean,
+the neighbourhood was very unwholesome. But this was another instance
+of how the unemployed operatives of Lancashire are being driven down
+from day to day deeper into the pestilent sinks of life in these hard
+times. &quot;This child of my daughter's,&quot; continued the old woman,
+in a low tone, &quot;this child was born just as they were puttin' my
+husband into his coffin, an' wi' one thing an' another, we've had a
+deal o' trouble. But one half o'th world doesn't know how tother lives.
+My husban' lay ill i' bed three year; an' he suffered to that degree
+that he was weary o' life long before it were o'er. At after we lost
+him, these bad times coom on, an' neaw, aw think we're poo'd deawn as
+nee to th' greawnd as ony body can be. My daughter's husband went off
+a-seekin' work just afore that child was born,&mdash;an' we haven't
+heard from him yet.&quot; My friend took care that his visit should
+result in lightening the weight of the old woman's troubles a little.</p>
+<p>As we passed the doors of a row of new cottages at the top end of
+&quot;Hardy Butts,&quot; a respectable old man looked out at one of
+the doorways, and said to my friend, &quot;Could aw spake to yo a minute?&quot;
+We went in, and found the house remarkably clean, with good cottage
+furniture in it. Two neighbour children were peeping in at the open
+door. The old man first sent them away, and then, after closing the
+door, he pointed to a good-looking young woman who stood blushing at
+the entrance of the inner room, with a wet cloth in her hands, and he
+said, &quot;Could yo do a bit o' summat to help this lass till sich
+times as hoo can get wark again? Hoo's noather feyther nor mother, nor
+nought i'th world to tak to, but what aw can spare for her, an' this
+is a poor shop to come to for help. Aw'm uncle to her.&quot; &quot;Well,&quot;
+said my friend, &quot;and cannot you manage to keep her?&quot; &quot;God
+bless yo!&quot; replied the old man, getting warm, &quot;Aw cannot keep
+mysel'. Aw will howd eawt as lung as aw can; but, yo know, what'll barely
+keep one alive 'll clem two. Aw should be thankful iv yo could give
+her a bit o' help whol things are as they are.&quot; Before the old
+man had done talking, his niece had crept away into the back room, as
+if ashamed of being the subject of such a conversation. This case was
+soon disposed of to the satisfaction of the old man; after which we
+visited three other houses in the same block, of which I have nothing
+special to say, except that they were all inhabited by people brought
+down to destitution by long want of work, and living solely upon the
+relief fund, and upon the private charity of their old employers. Upon
+this last source of relief too little has been said, because it has
+not paraded itself before the public eye; but I have had opportunities
+for seeing how wide and generous it is, and I shall have abundant occasion
+for speaking of it hereafter. On our way back, we looked in at &quot;Old
+John's&quot; again, to see if he had returned home. He had been in,
+and he had gone out again, so we came away, and saw nothing of him.
+Farther down towards the town, we passed through Acton Square, which
+is a cleaner place than some of the abominable nooks of Scholes, though
+I can well believe that there is many a miserable dwelling in it, from
+what I saw of the interiors and about the doorways, in passing.</p>
+<p>The last house we called at was in this square, and it was a pleasing
+exception to the general dirt of the neighbourhood. It was the cottage
+of a stout old collier, who lost his right leg in one of Wright's pits
+some years ago. My friend knew the family, and we called there more
+for the purpose of resting ourselves and having a chat than anything
+else. The old man was gray-haired, but he looked very hale and hearty&mdash;save
+the lack of his leg. His countenance was expressive of intelligence
+and good humour; and there was a touch of quiet majesty about his massive
+features. There was, to me, a kind of rude hint of Christopher North
+in the old collier's appearance. His wife, too, was a tall, strong-built
+woman, with a comely and a gentle face &mdash;a fit mate for such a
+man as he. I thought, as she moved about, her grand bulk seemed to outface
+the narrow limits of the cottage. The tiny house was exceedingly clean,
+and comfortably furnished. Everything seemed to be in its appointed
+place, even to the sleek cat sleeping on the hearth. There were a few
+books on a shelf, and a concertina upon a little table in the corner.
+When we entered, the old collier was busy with the slate and pencil,
+and an arithmetic before him; but he laid them aside, and, doffing his
+spectacles, began to talk with us. He said that they were a family of
+six, and all out of work; but he said that, ever since he lost his leg,
+the proprietors of the pit in which the accident happened (Wright's)
+had allowed him a pension of six shillings a week, which he considered
+very handsome. This allowance just kept the wolf from their little door
+in these hard times. In the course of our conversation I found that
+the old man read the papers frequently, and that he was a man of more
+than common information in his class. I should have been glad to stay
+longer with him, but my time was up; so I came away from the town, thus
+ending my last ramble amongst the unemployed operatives of Wigan. Since
+then the condition of the poor there has been steadily growing worse,
+which is sure to be heard of in the papers.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>AN INCIDENT BY THE WAYSIDE.</p>
+<p>&quot;Take physic, pomp!<br />Expose thyself to feel what wretches
+feel;<br />That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,<br />And show
+the Heavens more just.&quot;<br /><i>&mdash;King Lear</i>.</p>
+<p>On the Saturday after my return from Wigan, a little incident fell
+in my way, which I thought worth taking note of at the time; and perhaps
+it may not be uninteresting to your readers. On that day I went up to
+Levenshulme, to spend the afternoon with an old friend of mine, a man
+of studious habits, living in a retired part of that green suburb. The
+time went pleasantly by whilst I was with the calm old student, conversing
+upon the state of Lancashire, and the strange events which are upheaving
+the civilised world in great billows of change,&mdash;and drinking in
+the peaceful charm which pervaded everything about the man and his house
+and the scene which it stood in.</p>
+<p>After tea, he came with me across the fields to the &quot;Midway
+Inn,&quot; on Stockport Road, where the omnibuses call on their way
+to Manchester. It was a lovely evening, very clear and cool, and twilight
+was sinking upon the scene. Waiting for the next omnibus, we leaned
+against the long wooden watering-trough in front of the inn. The irregular
+old building looked picturesque in the soft light of declining day,
+and all around was so still that we could hear the voices of bowlers
+who were lingering upon the green, off at the north side of the house,
+and retired from the highway by an intervening garden. The varied tones
+of animation, and the phrases uttered by the players, on different parts
+of the green, came through the quiet air with a cheery ring. The language
+of the bowling-green sounds very quaint to people unused to the game.
+&quot;Too much land, James!&quot; cries one. &quot;Bravo, bully-bowl!
+That's th' first wood! Come again for more!&quot; cries another. &quot;Th'
+wrong bias, John!&quot; &quot;How's that?&quot; &quot;A good road; but
+it wants legs! Narrow; narrow, o' to pieces!&quot; These, and such like
+phrases of the game, came distinctly from the green into the highway
+that quiet evening. And here I am reminded, as I write, that the philosophic
+Doctor Dalton was a regular bowler upon Tattersall's green, at Old Trafford.
+These things, however, are all aside from the little matters which I
+wish to tell.</p>
+<p>As we stood by the watering-trough, listening to the voices of the
+bowlers, and to the occasional ringing of bells mingled with a low buzz
+of merriment inside the house, there were many travellers went by. They
+came, nearly all of them, from the Manchester side; sometimes three
+or four in company, and sometimes a lonely straggler. Some of them had
+poor-looking little bundles in their hands; and, with a few exceptions,
+their dress, their weary gait, and dispirited looks led me to think
+that many of them were unemployed factory operatives, who had been wandering
+away to beg where they would not be known. I have met so many shame-faced,
+melancholy people in that condition during the last few months, that,
+perhaps, I may have somewhat over judged the number of these that belongs
+to that class. But, in two or three cases, little snatches of conversation,
+uttered by them as they went by, plainly told that, so far as the speakers
+went, it was so; and, at last, a little thing befell, which, I am sure,
+represented the condition of many a thousand more in Lancashire just
+now. Three young women stopped on the footpath in front of the inn,
+close to the place where we stood, and began to talk together in a very
+free, open way, quite careless of being overheard. One of them was a
+stout, handsome young woman, about twenty-three. Her dress was of light
+printed stuff, clean and good. Her round, ruddy arms, her clear blond
+complexion, and the bright expression of her full open countenance,
+all indicated health and good-nature. I guessed from her conversation,
+as well as from her general appearance, that she was a factory operative
+in full employ&mdash;though that is such a rare thing in these parts
+now. The other two looked very poor and downhearted. One was a short,
+thick-set girl, seemingly not twenty years of age; her face was sad,
+and she had very little to say. The other was a thin, dark-haired, cadaverous
+woman, above thirty years of age, as I supposed; her shrunk visage was
+the picture of want, and her frank, child-like talk showed great simplicity
+of character. The weather had been wet for some days previous; and the
+clothing of the two looked thin, and shower-stained. It had evidently
+been worn a good while; and the colours were faded. Each of them wore
+a shivery bit of shawl, in which their hands were folded, as if to keep
+them warm. The handsome lass, who seemed to be in good employ, knew
+them both; but she showed an especial kindness towards the eldest of
+them.</p>
+<p>As these two stood talking to their friend, we did not take much
+notice of what they were saying until two other young women came slowly
+from townwards, looking poor, and tired, and ill, like the first. These
+last comers instantly recognised two of those who stood talking together
+in front of the inn, and one of them said to the other, &quot;Eh, sitho;
+there's Sarah an' Martha here! . . . Eh, lasses; han yo bin a-beggin'
+too?&quot; &quot;Ay, lass; we han;&quot; replied the thin, dark complexioned
+woman; &quot;Ay, lass; we han. Aw've just bin tellin' Ann, here. Aw
+never did sich a thing i' my life afore&mdash;never! But it's th' first
+time and th' last for me,&mdash;it is that! Aw'll go whoam; an' aw'll
+dee theer, afore aw'll go a-beggin' ony moor, aw will for sure! Mon,
+it's sich a nasty, dirty job; aw'd as soon clem! . . . See yo, lasses;
+we set off this mornin'&mdash;Martha an' me, we set eawt this mornin'
+to go to Gorton Tank, becose we yerd that it wur sich a good place.
+But one doesn't know wheer to go these times; an' one doesn't like to
+go a-beggin' among folk at they known. Well, when we coom to Gorton
+we geet twopence-hawpenny theer; an' that wur o'. Neaw, there's plenty
+moor beggin' besides us. Well, at after that twopence-hawpenny, we geet
+twopence moor, an' that's o' at we'n getten. But, eh, lasses, when aw
+coom to do it, aw hadn't th' heart to as for nought; aw hadn't for sure.
+. . . Martha an' me's walked aboon ten mile iv we'n walked a yard; an'
+we geet weet through th' first thing; an' aw wur ill when we set off,
+an' so wur Martha, too; aw know hoo wur, though hoo says nought. Well;
+we coom back through t' teawn; an' we were both on us fair stagged up.
+Aw never were so done o'er i' my life, wi' one thing an' another. So
+we co'de a-seein' Ann here; an' hoo made us a rare good baggin'&mdash;th'
+lass did. See yo; aw wur fit to drop o'th flags afore aw geet that saup
+o' warm tay into mo&mdash;aw wur for sure! An' neaw, hoo's come'd a
+gate wi' us hitherto, an' hoo would have us to have a glass o' warm
+ale a-piece at yon heawse lower deawn a bit; an' aw dar say it'll do
+mo good, aw getten sich a cowd; but, eh dear, it's made mo as mazy as
+a tup; an' neaw, hoo wants us to have another afore we starten off whoam.
+But it's no use; we mun' be gooin' on. Aw'm noan used to it, an' aw
+connot ston it. Aw'm as wake as a kittlin' this minute.&quot;</p>
+<p>Ann, who had befriended them in this manner, was the handsome young
+woman who seemed to be in work; and now, the poor woman who had been
+telling the story, laid her hand upon her friend's shoulder and said,
+&quot;Ann, thae's behaved very weel to us o' roads; an' neaw, lass,
+go thi ways whoam, an' dunnut fret abeawt us, mon. Aw feel better neaw,
+aw do for sure. We's be reet enough to-morn, lass. Mon, there's awlus
+some way shap't. That tay's done me a deeol o' good. . . . Go thi ways
+whoam, Ann; neaw do; or else aw shan't be yezzy abeawt tho!&quot; But
+Ann, who was wiping her eyes with her apron, replied, &quot;Naw, naw;
+aw will not go yet, Sarah!&quot; . . . And then she began to cry, &quot;Eh,
+lasses; aw dunnot like to see yo o' this shap&mdash;aw dunnot for sure!
+Besides, yo'n bin far enough today. Come back wi' me. Aw connot find
+reawm for both on yo; but thee come back wi' me, Sarah. Aw'll find thee
+a good bed: an' thae'rt welcome to a share o' what there is&mdash;as
+welcome as th' fleawers i May&mdash;thae knows that. Thae'rt th' owdest
+o' th' two; an thae'rt noan fit to trawnce up an' deawn o' this shap.
+Come back to eawr heawse; an' Martha'll go forrud to Stopput, (Stockport,)&mdash;winnot
+tho, Martha! . . . Thae knows, Martha,&quot; continued she, &quot;thae
+knows, Martha, thae munnot think nought at me axin' Sarah, an' noan
+o' thee. Yo should both on yo go back iv aw'd reawm,&mdash;but aw haven't.
+Beside, thae'rt younger an' strunger than hoo is.&quot; &quot; Eh, God
+bless tho, lass,&quot; replied Martha, &quot;aw know o' abeawt it. Aw'd
+rayther Sarah would stop, for hoo'll be ill. Aw can go forrud by mysel',
+weel enough. It's noan so fur, neaw.&quot; But, here, Sarah, the eldest
+of the three, laid her hand once more upon the shoulder of her friend,
+and said in an earnest tone, &quot;Ann! it will not do, my lass! Go
+aw <i>mun</i>! I never wur away fro whoam o' neet i my life,&mdash;never!
+Aw connot do it, mon! Beside, thae knows, aw've laft yon lad, an' never
+a wick soul wi' him! He'd fret hissel' to deoth this neet, mon, if aw
+didn't go whoam! Aw couldn't sleep a wink for thinkin' abeawt him! Th'
+child would be fit to start eawt o'th heawse i'th deead time o'th neet
+a-seechin' mo,&mdash;aw know he would! . . . Aw mun go, mon: God bless
+tho, Ann; aw'm obleeged to thee o' th' same. But, thae knows heaw it
+is. Aw mun goo!&quot;</p>
+<p>Here the omnibus came up, and I rode back to Manchester. The whole
+conversation took up very little more time than it will take to read
+it; but I thought it worth recording, as characteristic of the people
+now suffering in Lancashire from no fault of their own. I know the people
+well. The greatest number of them would starve themselves to that degree
+that they would not be of much more physical use in this world, before
+they would condescend to beg. But starving to death is hard work. What
+will winter bring to them when severe weather begins to tell upon constitutions
+lowered in tone by a starvation diet&mdash;a diet so different to what
+they have been used to when in work? What will the 1s. 6d. a-head weekly
+do for them in that hard time? If something more than this is not done
+for them, when more food, clothing, and fire are necessary to everybody,
+calamities may arise which will cost England a hundred times more than
+a sufficient relief&mdash;a relief worthy of those who are suffering,
+and of the nation they belong to&mdash;would have cost. In the meantime
+the cold wings of winter already begin to overshadow the land; and every
+day lost involves the lives, or the future usefulness, of thousands
+of our best population.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>WANDERING MINSTRELS; OR, WAILS OF THE WORKLESS POOR.</p>
+<p>&quot;For whom the heart of man shuts out,<br />Straightway the heart
+of God takes in,<br />And fences them all round about<br />With silence,
+'mid the world's loud din.<br />And one of his great charities<br />Is
+music; and it doth not scorn<br />To close the lids upon the eyes<br />Of
+the weary and forlorn.&quot;<br />&mdash;JAMES RUSSEL LOWELL.</p>
+<p>There is one feature of the distress in Lancashire which was seen
+strikingly upon the streets of our large towns during some months of
+1862. I allude to the wandering minstrelsy of the unemployed. Swarms
+of strange, shy, sad-looking singers and instrumental performers, in
+the work-worn clothing of factory operatives, went about the busy city,
+pleading for help in touching wails of simple song&mdash;like so many
+wild birds driven by hard weather to the haunts of man. There is something
+instructive, as well as affecting, in this feature of the troubled time.
+These wanderers are only a kind of representative overflow of a vast
+number whom our streets will never see. Any one well acquainted with
+Lancashire, will know how widespread the study of music is among its
+working population. Even the inhabitants of our large towns know something
+more about this now than they knew a few months ago. I believe there
+is no part of England in which the practice of sacred music is so widely
+and lovingly pursued amongst the working people as in the counties of
+Lancashire and Yorkshire. There is no part of England where, until lately,
+there have been so many poor men's pianos, which have been purchased
+by a long course of careful savings from the workman's wages. These,
+of course, have mostly been sold during the hard times to keep life
+in the owner and his family. The great works of Handel, Haydn, Beethoven,
+and Mozart have solaced the toil of thousands of the poorest working
+people of Lancashire. Anybody accustomed to wander among the moorlands
+of the country will remember how common it is to hear the people practising
+sacred music in their lonely cottages. It is not uncommon to meet working
+men wandering over the wild hills, &quot;where whip and heather grow,&quot;
+with their musical instruments, to take part in some village oratorio
+many miles away. &quot;That reminds me,&quot; as tale-tellers say, of
+an incident among the hills, which was interesting, though far from
+singular in my experience.</p>
+<p>Up in the forest of Rosendale, between Derply Moor and the wild bill
+called Swinshaw, there is a little lone valley, a green cup in the mountains,
+called &quot;Dean.&quot; The inhabitants of this valley are so notable
+for their love of music, that they are known all through the vales of
+Rosendale as &quot;Th' Deighn Layrocks,&quot; or &quot;The Larks of
+Dean.&quot; In the twilight of a glorious Sunday evening, in the height
+of summer, I was roaming over the heathery waste of Swinshaw, towards
+Dean, in company with a musical friend of mine, who lived in the neighbouring
+clough, when we saw a little crowd of people coming down a moorland
+slope, far away in front of us. As they drew nearer, we found that many
+of them had musical instruments, and when we met, my friend recognised
+them as working people living in the district, and mostly well known
+to him. He inquired where they had been; and they told him that they
+had &quot;bin to a bit ov a sing deawn i'th Deighn.&quot; &quot;Well,&quot;
+said he, &quot;can't we have a tune here?&quot; &quot;Sure, yo con,
+wi' o' th' plezzur i'th world,&quot; replied he who acted as spokesman;
+and a low buzz of delighted consent ran through the rest of the company.
+They then ranged themselves in a circle around their conductor, and
+they played and sang several fine pieces of psalmody upon the heather-scented
+mountain top. As those solemn strains floated over the wild landscape,
+startling the moorfowl untimely in his nest, I could not help thinking
+of the hunted Covenanters of Scotland. The all-together of that scene
+upon the mountains, &quot;between the gloaming and the mirk,&quot; made
+an impression upon me which I shall not easily forget. Long after we
+parted from them we could hear their voices, softening in sound as the
+distance grew, chanting on their way down the echoing glen, and the
+effect was wonderfully fine. This little incident upon the top of Swinshaw
+is representative of things which often occur in the country parts of
+Lancashire, showing how widespread the love of music is among the working
+classes there. Even in great manufacturing towns, it is very common,
+when passing cotton mills at work, to hear some fine psalm tune streaming
+in chorus from female voices, and mingling with the spoom of thousands
+of spindles. The &quot;Larks of Dean,&quot; like the rest of Lancashire
+operatives, must have suffered in this melancholy time; but I hope that
+the humble musicians of our county will never have occasion to hang
+their harps upon the willows.</p>
+<p>Now, when fortune has laid such a load of sorrow upon the working
+people of Lancashire, it is a sad thing to see so many workless minstrels
+of humble life &quot;chanting their artless notes in simple guise&quot;
+upon the streets of great towns, amongst a kind of life they are little
+used to. There is something very touching, too, in their manner and
+appearance. They may be ill-shod and footsore; they may be hungry, and
+sick at heart, and forlorn in countenance, but they are almost always
+clean and wholesome-looking in person. They come singing in twos and
+threes, and sometimes in more numerous bands, as if to keep one another
+in countenance. Sometimes they come in a large family all together,
+the females with their hymn-books, and the men with their different
+musical instruments,&mdash;bits of pet salvage from the wrecks of cottage
+homes. The women have sometimes children in their arms, or led by the
+hand; and they sometimes carry music-books for the men. I have seen
+them, too, with little handkerchiefs of rude provender for the day.
+As I said before, they are almost invariably clean in person, and their
+clothing is almost always sound and seemly in appearance, however poor
+and scanty. Amongst these poor wanderers there is none of the reckless
+personal negligence and filth of hopeless reprobacy; neither is there
+a shadow of the professional ostentation of poverty amongst them. Their
+faces are sad, and their manners very often singularly shame-faced and
+awkward; and any careful observer would see at a glance that these people
+were altogether unused to the craft of the trained minstrel of the streets.
+Their clear, healthy complexion, though often touched with pallor, their
+simple, unimportunate demeanour, and the general rusticity of their
+appearance, shows them to be</p>
+<p>&quot;Suppliants who would blush<br />To wear a tatter'd garb, however
+coarse;<br />Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth;<br />Who ask with
+painful shyness, and refused,<br />Because deserving, silently retire.&quot;</p>
+<p>The females, especially the younger ones, generally walk behind,
+blushing and hiding themselves as much as possible. I have seen the
+men sometimes walk backwards, with their faces towards those who were
+advancing, as if ashamed of what they were doing. And thus they went
+wailing through the busy streets, whilst the listening crowd looks on
+them pityingly and wonderingly, as if they were so many hungry shepherds
+from the mountains of Calabria. This flood of strange minstrels partly
+drowned the slang melodies and the monotonous strains of ordinary street
+musicians for a while. The professional gleeman &quot;paled his ineffectual
+fire&quot; before these mournful songsters. I think there never was
+so much sacred music heard upon the streets of Manchester before. With
+the exception of a favourite glee now and then, their music consisted
+chiefly of fine psalm tunes&mdash;often plaintive old strains, known
+and welcome to all, because they awaken tender and elevating remembrances
+of life. &quot;Burton,&quot; &quot;French,&quot; &quot;Kilmarnock,&quot;
+&quot;Luther's Hymn,&quot; the grand &quot;Old Hundred,&quot; and many
+other fine tunes of similar character, have floated daily in the air
+of our city, for months together. I am sure that this choice does not
+arise from the minstrels themselves having craft enough to select &quot;a
+mournful muse, soft pity to infuse.&quot; It is the kind of music which
+has been the practice and pleasure of their lives, and it is a fortuitous
+thing that now, in addition to its natural plaintiveness, the sad necessity
+of the times lends a tender accompaniment to their simplest melody.
+I doubt very much whether Leech's minor tunes were ever heard upon our
+streets till lately. Leech was a working man, born near the hills, in
+Lancashire; and his anthems and psalm tunes are great favourites among
+the musical population, especially in the country districts. Leech's
+harp was tuned by the genius of sorrow. Several times lately I have
+heard the tender complaining notes of his psalmody upon the streets
+of the city. About three months ago I heard one of his most pathetic
+tunes sung in the market-place by an old man and two young women. The
+old man's dress had the peculiar hue and fray of factory work upon it,
+and he had a pair of clogs upon his stockingless feet. They were singing
+one of Leech's finest minor tunes to Wesley's hymn:-</p>
+<p>&quot;And am I born to die,<br />To lay this body down?<br />And
+must my trembling spirit fly<br />Into a world unknown?<br />A land
+of deepest shade,<br />Unpierced by human thought;<br />The dreary country
+of the dead<br />Where all things are forgot.&quot;</p>
+<p>It is a tune often sung by country people in Lancashire at funerals;
+and, if I remember right, the same melody is cut upon Leech's gravestone
+in the old Wesleyan Chapel-yard, at Rochdale. I saw a company of minstrels
+of the same class going through Brown Street, the other day, playing
+and singing,</p>
+<p>&quot;In darkest shades, if Thou appear,<br />My dawning is begun.&quot;</p>
+<p>The company consisted of an old man, two young men, and three young
+women. Two of the women had children in their arms. After I had listened
+to them a little while, thinking the time and the words a little appropriate
+to their condition, I beckoned to one of the young men, who came &quot;sidling&quot;
+slowly up to me. I asked him where they came from, and he said, &quot;Ash'n.&quot;
+In answer to another question, he said, &quot;We're o' one family. Me
+an' yon tother's wed. That's his wife wi' th' chylt in her arms, an'
+hur wi' th' plod shawl on's mine.&quot; I asked if the old man was his
+father. &quot;Ay,&quot; replied he, &quot;we're o' here, nobbut two.
+My mother's ill i' bed, an' one o' my sisters is lookin' after her.&quot;
+&quot; Well, an' heaw han yo getten on?&quot; said I. &quot;Oh, we'n
+done weel; but we's come no moor,&quot; replied he. Another day, there
+was an instrumental band of these operatives playing sacred music close
+to the Exchange lamp. Amongst the crowd around, I met with a friend
+of mine. He told me that the players were from Staleybridge. They played
+some fine old tunes, by desire, and, among the rest, they played one
+called &quot;Warrington. &quot;When they had played it several times
+over, my friend turned to me and said, &quot;That tune was composed
+by a Rev. Mr Harrison, who was once minister of Cross Street Unitarian
+Chapel, in Manchester; and, one day, an old weaver, who had come down
+from the hills, many miles, staff in hand, knocked at the minister's
+door, and asked if there was 'a gentleman co'de' Harrison lived theer?'
+'Yes.' 'Could aw see him?' 'Yes.' When the minister came to the door,
+the old weaver looked hard at him, for a minute, and said, 'Are yo th'
+mon 'at composed that tune co'de Worrington?' 'Yes,' replied the minister,
+'I believe I am.' 'Well,' said the old weaver, 'give me your hond! It's
+a good un!' He then shook hands with him heartily again, and saying,
+'Well, good day to yo,' he went his way home again, before the old minister
+could fairly collect his scattered thoughts.&quot;</p>
+<p>I do not know how it is that these workless minstrels are gradually
+becoming rarer upon the streets than they were a few months ago. Perhaps
+it is because the unemployed are more liberally relieved now than they
+were at first. I know that now many who have concealed their starving
+condition are ferreted out and relieved as far as possible. Many of
+these street wanderers have gone home again disgusted, to pinch out
+the hard time in proud obscurity; and there are some, no doubt, who
+have wandered away to other parts of England. Of these last, we may
+naturally expect that a few may become so reconciled to a life of wandering
+minstrelsy that they may probably never return to settled labour again.
+But &quot;there's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how
+we will.&quot; Let us trust that the Great Creator may comfort and relieve
+them, &quot;according to their several necessities, giving them patience
+under their sufferings, and a happy issue out of all their afflictions.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>LETTER AND SPEECHES UPON THE COTTON FAMINE</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>LETTERS OF A LANCASHIRE LAD ON THE COTTON FAMINE.</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The following extracts are from the letters of Mr. John Whittaker,
+&quot;A Lancashire Lad,&quot; one of the first writers whose appeals
+through the press drew serious attention to the great distress in Lancashire
+during the Cotton Famine. There is no doubt that his letters in <i>The
+Times</i>, and to the Lord Mayor of London, led to the Mansion House
+Fund. In <i>The Times</i> of April 14, 1862, appeared the first of a
+series of letters, pleading the cause of the distressed operatives.
+He said:-</p>
+<p>&quot;I am living in the centre of a vast district where there are
+many cotton mills, which in ordinary times afford employment to many
+thousands of 'hands,' and food to many more thousands of mouths. With
+rare exceptions, quietness reigns at all those mills. . . . It may be
+that our material atmosphere is somewhat brighter than it was, but our
+social atmosphere is much darker and denser. Hard times have come; and
+we have had them sufficiently long to know what they mean. We have fathers
+sitting in the house at mid-day, silent and glum, while children look
+wistfully about, and sometimes whimper for bread which they cannot have.
+We have the same fathers who, before hard times came, were proud men,
+who would have thought 'beggar' the most opprobrious epithet you could
+have hit them with; but who now are made humble by the sight of wife
+and children almost starving, and who go before 'relief committees,'
+and submit to be questioned about their wants with a patience and humility
+which it is painful, almost schocking, to witness, And some others of
+these fathers turn out in the morning with long besoms as street-sweepers,
+while others again go to breaking stones in the town's yard or open
+road-side, where they are unprotected from the keen east winds, which
+add a little more to the burden of misery which they have to bear just
+now. But, harder even than this, our factory-women and girls have had
+to turn out; and, plodding a weary way from door to door, beg a bit
+of bread or a stray copper, that they may eke out the scanty supply
+at home. Only the other day, while taking a long stroll in the country
+lying about the town in which I live, I met a few of these factory-girls,
+and was stopped by their not very beggar-like question of 'Con yo help
+us a bit?' They were just such as my own sisters; and as I saw and heard
+them, I was almost choked as I fancied my sisters come to such a pass
+as that. 'Con yo help us a bit?' asked these factory girls.</p>
+<p>. . . I have heard of ladies whose whole lives seem to be but a changing
+from one kind of pleasure to another; who suffer chiefly from what they
+call ennui, (a kind of disease from which my sisters are not likely
+to suffer at all,) and to whom a new pleasure to enjoy would be something
+like what a new world to conquer would be to Alexander. Why should they
+not hear our Lancashire girls' cry of 'Con yo help us a bit?' Why should
+not they be reminded that these girls in cotton gowns and wooden clogs
+are wending their way towards the same heaven&mdash;or, alas, towards
+the same hell&mdash;whither wend all the daughters of Eve, no matter
+what their outer condition and dress? Why should not they be asked to
+think how these striving girls have to pray daily, 'Lead us not into
+temptation,' while temptations innumerable stand everywhere about them?</p>
+<p>Those of us who are men would rather do much than let our sisters
+go begging. May not some of us take to doing more to prevent it? I remember
+some poetry about the</p>
+<p>'Sister bloodhounds, Want and Sin,'</p>
+<p>and know that they hunt oftener together than singly. We have felt
+the fangs of the first: upon how many of us will the second pounce?&quot;</p>
+<p>In a second letter, inserted in <i>The Times</i> of April 22, 1862,
+the same writer says:&mdash;&quot;Even during the short time which has
+elapsed since I wrote last week, many things have combined to show that
+the distress is rapidly increasing, and that there is a pressing need
+that we should go beyond the borders of our own county for help. . .
+. I remember what I have read of the Godlike in man, and I look with
+a strange feeling upon the half-famished creatures I see hourly about
+me. I cannot pass through a street but I see evidences of deep distress.
+I cannot sit at home half-an-hour without having one or more coming
+to ask for bread to eat. But what comes casually before me is as nothing
+when compared with that deeper distress which can only be seen by those
+who seek it. . . . There have been families who have been so reduced
+that the only food they have had has been a porridge made of Indian
+meal. They could not afford oatmeal, and even of their Indian meal porridge
+they could only afford to have two meals a day. They have been so ashamed
+of their coarser food that they have done all that was possible to hide
+their desperate state from those about them. It has only been by accident
+that it has been found out, and then they have been caught hurriedly
+putting away the dishes that contained their loathsome food. A woman,
+whose name I could give, and whose dwelling I could point to, was said
+not only to be in deep distress, but to be also ill of fever. She was
+visited. On entering the lower room of the house, the visitors saw that
+there was not a scrap of furniture; the woman, fever-stricken, sat on
+an orange-box before a low fire; and to prevent the fire from going
+quite out, she was pulling her seat to pieces for fuel bit by bit. The
+visitors looked upstairs. There was no furniture there&mdash;only a
+bit of straw in a corner, which served as the bed of the woman's four
+children. In another case a woman, who was said to be too weak to apply
+for relief, was visited. Her husband had been out of work a long time
+by reason of his illness; he was now of a fashion recovered, and had
+gone off to seek for work. He left his wife and three children in their
+cellar-home. The wife was very near her confinement, and had not tasted
+food for two or three days. . . . There are in this town some hundreds
+of young single women who have been self-dependent, but who are now
+entirely without means. Nearly all of these are good English girls,
+who have quietly fought their own life-battle, but who now have hard
+work to withstand the attacks this grim poverty is making. I am told
+of a case in which one of these girls was forced to become one of that
+class of whom poor Hood sang in his 'Bridge of Sighs.' She was an orphan,
+had no relations here, and was tossed about from place to place till
+she found her way to a brothel. Thank God, she has been rescued. Our
+relief fund has been the means of relieving her from that degradation;
+but cannot those who read my letter see how strong are the temptations
+which their want places in the way of these poor girls!&quot;</p>
+<p>On 25th April a number of city merchants, most of whom were interested
+in the cotton manufacture, waited upon the Lord Mayor of London, with
+a view to interest him, and through him the public at large, in the
+increasing distress among the operative population in the manufacturing
+districts of Lancashire. Previous to this, the &quot;Lancashire Lad&quot;
+had made a private appeal, by letter, to the Lord Mayor, in which he
+said:-</p>
+<p>&quot;Local means are nearly exhausted, and I am convinced that if
+we have not help from without, our condition will soon be more desperate
+than I or any one else who possesses human feelings can wish it to become.
+To see the homes of those whom we know and respect, though they are
+but working men, stripped of every bit of furniture&mdash;to see long-cherished
+books and pictures sent one by one to the pawn-shop, that food may be
+had&mdash;and to see that food almost loathsome in kind, and insufficient
+in quantity,&mdash;are hard, very hard things to bear. But those are
+not the worst things. In many of our cottage homes there is now nothing
+left by the pawning of which a few pence may be raised, and the mothers
+and sisters of we 'Lancashire lads' have turned out to beg, and ofttimes
+knock at the doors of houses in which there is as much destitution as
+there is in our own; while the fathers and the lads themselves think
+they are very fortunate if they can earn a shilling or two by street-sweeping
+or stone breaking. . . . Will you not do for us what you have done for
+others&mdash;become the recipient of whatever moneys those who are inclined
+to help us may send to you?&quot;</p>
+<p>The Lord Mayor, having listened to the deputation, read them the
+personal appeal, and, &quot;before separating, the deputation engaged
+to form themselves into a provisional committee, to correspond with
+any local one which circumstances might render it desirable to set on
+foot in some central part of the distressed districts.&quot; Immediately
+afterwards, the Lord Mayor, on taking his seat in the justice-room,
+stated that &quot;he was ready, with the assistance of the gentlemen
+of the deputation, to act in the way desired. . . . He could not himself
+take any part in the distribution. All he could do was to be the medium
+of transmission; and as soon as he knew that some organisation had been
+formed, either in the great city of Manchester, or in some other part
+of Lancashire, in which the public might feel confidence, he should
+be ready to send the small sums he had already received, and any others
+that might be intrusted to him from time to time.&quot; And thus originated
+the first general subscription for the cotton operatives, and which,
+before it closed, reached the magnificent sum of &pound;528,336, 9s.
+9d.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>MR COBDEN'S SPEECH ON THE COTTON FAMINE.</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>On the 29th of April 1862, a meeting of gentlemen residents, called
+by Thomas Goadsby, Esq., Mayor of Manchester, was held in the Town Hall
+of that city, to consider the propriety of forming a relief committee.
+'&quot;The late Mr Richard Cobden, M.P., attended, and recommended a
+bold appeal to the whole country, declaring with prophetic keenness
+of vision that not less than &pound;1,000,000 would be required to carry
+the suffering operatives through the crisis, whilst the subscriptions
+up to that date amounted only to &pound;180,000.&quot; On the motion
+of a vote of thanks to the Mayor of Manchester, who was retiring from
+the mayoralty, Mr Cobden said:-</p>
+<p>&quot;Before that resolution is passed, I will take the opportunity
+of making an observation. I have had the honour of having my name added
+to this committee, and the first thing I asked of my neighbour here
+was&mdash;'What are the functions of the general committee?' And I have
+heard that they amount to nothing more than to attend here once a month,
+and receive the report of the executive committee as to the business
+done and the distribution of the funds. I was going to suggest to you
+whether the duties of the general committee might not be very much enlarged&mdash;whether
+it might not be employed very usefully in increasing the amount of subscriptions.
+I think all our experience must have taught us that, with the very best
+cause in the world in hand, the success of a public subscription depends
+very much upon the amount of activity in those who solicit it; and I
+think, in order to induce us to make a general and national effort to
+raise additional funds in this great emergency, it is only necessary
+to refer to and repeat one or two facts that have been stated in this
+report just read to us. I find it stated that it is estimated that the
+loss of wages at present is at the rate of &pound;136,094 per week,
+and there is no doubt that the savings of the working classes are almost
+exhausted. Now, &pound;136,094 per week represents upwards of &pound;7,000,000
+sterling per annum, and that is the rate at which the deduction is now
+being made from the wages of labour in this district.</p>
+<p>I see it stated in this report that the resources which this committee
+can at present foresee that it will possess to relieve this amount of
+distress are &pound;25,000 a month for the next five months, which is
+at the rate of &pound;300,000 per annum; so that we foresee at present
+the means of affording a relief of something less than five per cent
+upon the actual amount of the loss of wages at present incurred by the
+working classes of this country. But I need not tell honourable gentlemen
+present, who are so practically acquainted with this district, that
+that loss of seven millions in wages per annum is a very imperfect measure
+of the amount of suffering and loss which will be inflicted on this
+community three or four months hence. It may be taken to be &pound;10,000,000;
+and that &pound;10,000,000 of loss of wages before the next spring is
+by no means a measure of the loss this district will incur; for you
+must take it that the capitalists will be incurring also a loss on their
+fixed machinery and buildings; and though perhaps not so much as that
+of the labourer, it will be a very large amount, and possibly, in the
+opinion of some people, will very nearly approach it.</p>
+<p>That is not all: Mr Farnall has told us that at present the increase
+of the rates in this district is at the rate of &pound;10,000 per week.
+That will be at the rate of half a million per annum, and, of course,
+if this distress goes on, that rate must be largely increased, perhaps
+doubled. This shows the amount of pressure which is threatening this
+immediate district. I have always been of opinion that this distress
+and suffering must be cumulative to a degree which few people have ever
+foreseen, because your means of meeting the difficulty will diminish
+just in proportion as the difficulty will increase. Mr Farnall has told
+us that one-third of the rateable property will fall out of existence,
+as it were, and future rates must be levied upon two-thirds. But that
+will be by no means the measure of the condition of things two or three
+months hence, because every additional rate forces out of existence
+a large amount of saleable property; and the more you increase your
+rates the more you diminish the area over which those rates are to be
+productive. This view of the case has a very important bearing, also,
+upon the condition of the shop-keeping class as well as the classes
+of mill-owners and manufacturers who have not a large amount of floating
+capital. There is no doubt but a very large amount of the shopkeeping
+class are rapidly falling into the condition of the unemployed labourers.</p>
+<p>When I was at Rochdale the other day, I heard a very sorrowful example
+of it. There was a poor woman who kept a shop, and she was threatened
+with a distraint for her poor-rate. She sold the Sunday clothes of her
+son to pay the poor-rate, and she received a relief-ticket when she
+went to leave her rate. That is a sad and sorrowful example, but I am
+afraid it will not be a solitary one for a long time. Then you have
+the shopkeeping class descending to the rank of the operatives. It must
+be so. Withdraw the custom of &pound;7,000,000 per annum, which has
+ceased to be paid in wages, from the shopkeepers, and the consequence
+must present itself to any rational mind. We have then another class&mdash;the
+young men of superior education employed in warehouses and counting-houses.
+A great number of these will rapidly sink to the condition in which
+you find the operative classes. All this will add to the distress and
+the embarrassment of this part of the kingdom. Now, to meet this state
+of things you have the poor-law relief, which is the only relief we
+can rely upon, except that which comes from our own voluntary exertions.
+Well, but any one who has read over this report of Mr Farnall, just
+laid before us, must see how inadequate this relief must be. It runs
+up from one shilling and a half-penny in the pound to one shilling and
+fourpence or one shilling and fivepence; there is hardly one case in
+which the allowance is as much as two shillings per week for each individual&mdash;I
+won't call them paupers&mdash;each distressed individual.</p>
+<p>Now, there is one point to which I would wish to bring the attention
+of the committee in reference to this subject&mdash;it is a most important
+one, in my appreciation. In ordinary times, when you give relief to
+the poor, that relief being given when the great mass of workpeople
+are in full employment, the measure of your relief to an isolated family
+or two that may be in distress is by no means the measure of the amount
+of their subsistence, because we all know that in prosperous times,
+when the bulk of the working people are employed, they are always kind
+to each other. The poor, in fact, do more to relieve the poor than any
+other class. A working man and his family out of employment in prosperous
+times could get a meal at a neighbour's house, just as we, in our class,
+could get a meal at a neighbour's house if it was a convenience to us
+in making a journey. But recollect, now the whole mass of the labouring
+and working population is brought down to one sad level of destitution,
+and what you allow them from the poor-rates, and what you allow them
+from these voluntary subscriptions, are actually the measure of all
+that they will obtain for their subsistence. And that being so general,
+producing a great depression of spirits, as well as physical prostration,
+you are in great danger of the health and strength of this community
+suffering, unless something more be done to meet the case than I fear
+is yet provided for it. All this brings me to this conclusion&mdash;that
+something more must be done by this general committee than has been
+done, to awaken the attention of the public generally to the condition
+of this part of the country. It is totally exceptional. The state of
+things has no parallel in all history. It is impossible you could point
+out to me another case, in which, in a limited sphere, such as we have
+in Lancashire, and in the course of a few months, there has been a cessation
+of employment at the rate of &pound;7,000,000 sterling per annum in
+wages. There has been nothing like it in the history of the world for
+its suddenness, for the impossibility of dealing with it, or managing
+it in the way of an effective remedy.</p>
+<p>Well, the country at large must be made acquainted with these facts.
+How is that to be done? It can only be by the diffusion of information
+from this central committee. An appeal must be made to the whole country,
+if this great destitution is to be met in any part by voluntary aid.
+The nation at large must be made fully acquainted with the exigency
+of the case, and we must be reminded that a national responsibility
+rests upon us. I will, therefore, suggest that this general committee
+should be made a national committee, and we shall then get rid of this
+little difficulty with the Lord Mayor. We shall want all the co-operation
+of the Lord Mayor and the city of London; and I say that this committee,
+instead of being a Manchester or Lancashire central committee, should
+be made a national committee; that from this should go forth invitations
+to all parts of the country, beginning with the lords-lieutenant, inviting
+them to be vice-presidents of this committee. Let the noble Lord continue
+to be at the head of the general committee&mdash;the national committee&mdash;and
+invite every mayor to take part. We are going to have new mayors in
+the course of the week, and, though I am sorry to lose our present one,
+yet when new mayors come in, they may be probably more ready to take
+up a new undertaking than if they had just been exhausted with a years
+labour. Let every mayor in the kingdom be invited to become a member
+of this committee. Let subscription-circulars be despatched to them
+asking them to organise a committee in every borough; and let there
+be a secretary and honorary secretary employed. Through these bodies
+you might communicate information, and counteract those misrepresentations
+that have been made with regard to the condition of this district.</p>
+<p>You might, if necessary, send an ambassador to some of those more
+important places; but better still, if you could induce them to send
+some one here to look into the state of things for themselves; because
+I am sure if they did, so far from finding the calumnies that have been
+uttered against the propertied classes in this county being well founded,
+they would find instances&mdash;and not a few&mdash;of great liberality
+and generosity, such as I think would surprise any one who visited this
+district from the southern part of the kingdom.</p>
+<p>This would only be done by an active effort from the centre here,
+and I submit that we shall not be doing justice to this effort unless
+we give to the whole country an opportunity of co-operating in that
+way, and throw upon every part of the kingdom a share of the responsibility
+of this great crisis and emergency. I submit that there is every motive
+why this community, as well as the whole kingdom, should wish to preserve
+this industrious population in health and in the possession of their
+energies. There is every motive why we should endeavour to keep this
+working population here rather than drive them away from here, as you
+will do if they are not sufficiently fed and clothed during the next
+winter. They will be wanted again if this district is to revive, as
+we all hope and believe it will revive. Your fixed capital here is of
+no use without the population. It is of no use without your raw material.
+Lancashire is the richest county in the kingdom when its machinery is
+employed; it is the poorest county in the kingdom when its machinery
+and fixed capital are paralysed, as at present. Therefore, I say it
+is the interest, not only of this community, but of the kingdom, that
+this population should be preserved for the time&mdash;I hope not a
+distant time&mdash;when the raw material of their industry will be supplied
+to this region.</p>
+<p>I submit; then, to the whole kingdom&mdash;this district as well
+as the rest&mdash;that it will be advisable, until Parliament meets,
+that such an effort should be made as will make a national subscription
+amount probably to &pound;1,000,000. Short of that, it would be utterly
+insufficient for the case; and I believe that, with an energetic appeal
+made to the whole country, and an effort organised such as I have indicated,
+such an amount might be raised.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>SPEECH OF THE EARL OF DERBY</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>AT THE COUNTY MEETING, ON THE 2D DECEMBER 1863.<br />THE EARL OF
+SEFTON IN THE CHAIR.</p>
+<p>The thirteen hundred circulars issued by the Earl of Sefton, Lord-Lieutenant
+of Lancashire, &quot;brought together such a gathering of rank, and
+wealth, and influence, as is not often to be witnessed; and the eloquent
+advocate of class distinctions and aristocratic privileges (the Earl
+of Derby) became on that day the powerful and successful representative
+of the poor and helpless.&quot; Called upon by the chairman, the Earl
+of Derby said:-</p>
+<p>&quot;My Lord Sefton, my Lords and Gentlemen,&mdash;We are met together
+upon an occasion which must call forth the most painful, and at the
+same time ought to excite, and I am sure will excite, the most kindly
+feelings of our human nature. We are met to consider the best means
+of palliating&mdash;would to God that I could say removing!&mdash;a
+great national calamity, the like whereof in modern times has never
+been witnessed in this favoured land&mdash;a calamity which it was impossible
+for those who are the chief sufferers by it to foresee, or, if they
+had foreseen, to have taken any steps to avoid&mdash;a calamity which,
+though shared by the nation at large, falls more peculiarly and with
+the heaviest weight upon this hitherto prosperous and wealthy district&mdash;a
+calamity which has converted this teeming hive of industry into a stagnant
+desert of compulsory inaction and idleness&mdash;a calamity which has
+converted that which was the source of our greatest wealth into the
+deepest abyss of impoverishment&mdash;a calamity which has impoverished
+the wealthy, which has reduced men of easy fortunes to the greatest
+straits, which has brought distress upon those who have hitherto been
+somewhat above the world by the exercise of frugal industry, and which
+has reduced honest and struggling poverty to a state of absolute and
+humiliating destitution. Gentlemen, it is to meet this calamity that
+we are met together this day, to add our means and our assistance to
+those efforts which have been so nobly made throughout the country generally,
+and, I am bound to say, in this county also, as I shall prove to you
+before I conclude my remarks. Gentlemen, I know how impossible it is
+by any figures to convey an idea of the extent of the destitution which
+now prevails, and I know also how impatient large assemblies are of
+any extensive use of figures, or even of figures at all; but at the
+same time, it is impossible for me to lay before you the whole state
+of the case, in opening this resolution, and asking you to resolve with
+regard to the extent of the distress which now prevails, without trespassing
+on your attention by a few, and they shall be a very few, figures, which
+shall show the extent, if not the pressure, throughout this district,
+of the present distress. And, gentlemen, I think I shall best give you
+an idea of the amount of distress and destitution which prevails, by
+very shortly comparing the state of things which existed in the districts
+to which I refer in the month of September 1861, as compared with the
+month of September 1862, and with that again only about two weeks ago,
+which is the latest information we have&mdash;up to the 22d of last
+month.</p>
+<p>I find then, gentlemen, that in a district comprising, in round numbers,
+two million inhabitants&mdash;for that is about the number in that district&mdash;in
+the fourth week of September 1861, there were forty-three thousand five
+hundred persons receiving parochial relief; in the fourth week of September
+1862, there were one hundred and sixty-three thousand four hundred and
+ninety-eight persons receiving parochial relief; and in the short space
+which elapsed between the last week of September and the third week
+of November the number of one hundred and sixty-three thousand four
+hundred and ninety-eight had increased to two hundred and fifty-nine
+thousand three hundred and eighty-five persons. Now, gentlemen, let
+us in the same periods compare the amount which was applied from the
+parochial funds to the relief of pauperism. In September 1861, the amount
+so applied was &pound;2259; in September 1862, it was &pound;9674. That
+is by the week. What is now the amount? In November 1862 it was &pound;17,681
+for the week. The proportion of those receiving parochial relief to
+the total population was two and three-tenths per cent in September
+1861, and eight and five-tenths per cent in September 1862, and that
+had become thirteen and five-tenths percent in the population in November
+1862. Here, therefore, is thirteen per cent of the whole population
+at the present moment depending for their subsistence upon parochial
+relief alone. Of these two hundred and fifty-nine thousand&mdash;I give
+only round numbers&mdash;there were thirty-six thousand eight hundred
+old or infirm; there were nearly ninety-eight thousand able-bodied adults
+receiving parochial relief, and there were under sixteen years of age
+nearly twenty-four thousand persons. But it would be very far from giving
+you an estimate of the extent of the distress if we were to confine
+our observations to those who are dependent upon parochial relief alone.</p>
+<p>We have evidence from the local committees, whom we have extensively
+employed, and whose services have been invaluable to us, that of persons
+not relieved from the poor-rates there are relieved also by local committees
+no fewer in this district than one hundred and seventy-two thousand
+persons&mdash;making a total of four hundred and thirty-one thousand
+three hundred and ninety-five persons out of two millions, or twenty-one
+and seven-tenths per cent on the whole population&mdash;that is, more
+than one in every five persons depend for their daily existence either
+upon parochial relief or public charity. Gentlemen, I have said that
+figures will not show sufficiently the amount of distress; nor, in the
+same manner, will figures show, I am happy to say, the amount that has
+been contributed for the relief of that distress. But let us take another
+test; let us examine what has been the result, not upon the poor who
+are dependent for their daily bread upon their daily labour, and many
+of whom are upon the very verge of pauperism, from day to day, but let
+us take a test of what has been the effect upon the well-to-do artisan,
+upon the frugal, industrious, saving men, who have been hitherto somewhat
+above the world, and I have here but an imperfect test, because I am
+unable to obtain the whole amount of deposits withdrawn from the savings
+banks, the best of all possible tests, if we could carry the account
+up to the present day; but I have only been able to obtain it to the
+middle of June last, when the distress could hardly be said to have
+begun, and yet I find from seven savings banks alone in this county
+in six months&mdash;and those months in which the distress had not reached
+its present height, or anything like it&mdash;there was an excess of
+withdrawals of deposits over the ordinary average to the amount of &pound;71,113.
+This was up to June last, when, as I have said, the pressure had hardly
+commenced, and from that time it as been found impossible to obtain
+from the savings banks, who are themselves naturally unwilling to disclose
+this state of affairs&mdash;it has been found impossible to obtain such
+further returns as would enable us to present to you any proper estimate
+of the excess of withdrawals at present; but that they have been very
+large must necessarily be inferred from the great increase of distress
+which has taken place since the large sum I have mentioned was obtained
+from the banks, as representing the excess of ordinary withdrawals in
+June last.</p>
+<p>Now, gentlemen, figure to yourselves, I beg of you, what a state
+of things that sum of &pound;71,113, as the excess of the average withdrawals
+from the savings banks represents; what an amount of suffering does
+it picture; what disappointed hopes; what a prospect of future distress
+does it not bring before you for the working and industrious classes?
+Why, gentlemen, it represents the blighted hopes for life of many a
+family. It represents the small sum set apart by honest, frugal, persevering
+industry, won by years of toil and self-denial, in the hope of its being,
+as it has been in many cases before, the foundation even of colossal
+fortunes which have been made from smaller sums. It represents the gradual
+decay of the hopes for his family of many an industrious artisan. The
+first step in that downward progress which has led to destitution and
+pauperism is the withdrawal of the savings of honest industry, and that
+is represented in the return which I have quoted to you. Then comes
+the sacrifice of some little cherished article of furniture&mdash;the
+cutting off of some little indulgence&mdash;the sacrifice of that which
+gave his home an appearance of additional comfort and happiness&mdash;the
+sacrifice gradually, one by one, of the principal articles of furniture,
+till at last the well-conducted, honest, frugal, saving working man
+finds himself on a level with the idle, the dissipated, and the improvident&mdash;obliged
+to pawn the very clothes of his family&mdash;nay, the very bedding on
+which he lies, to obtain the simple means of subsistence from day to
+day, and encountering all that difficulty and all that distress with
+the noble independence that would do anything rather than depend upon
+public or even on private charity, and in his own simple but emphatic
+language declaring, 'Nay, but we'll <i>clem</i> first.'</p>
+<p>And, gentlemen, this leads me to observe upon a more gratifying point
+of view, that is, the noble manner, a manner beyond all praise, in which
+this destitution has been borne by the population of this great county.
+It is not the case of ordinary labourers who find themselves reduced
+a trifle below their former means of subsistence, but it is a reduction
+in the pecuniary comfort, and almost necessaries, of men who have been
+in the habit of living, if not in luxury, at least in the extreme of
+comfort&mdash;a reduction to two shillings and three shillings a week
+from sums which had usually amounted to twenty-five shillings, or thirty
+shillings, or forty shillings; a cutting off of all their comforts,
+cutting off all their hopes of future additional comfort, or of rising
+in life&mdash;aggravated by a feeling, an honourable, an honest, but
+at the same time a morbid feeling, of repugnance to the idea of being
+indebted under these circumstances to relief of any kind or description.
+And I may say that, among the difficulties which have been encountered
+by the local relief committees&mdash;no doubt there have been many of
+those not among the most deserving who have been clamorous for the aid
+held out to them&mdash;but one of the great difficulties of local relief
+committees has been to find out and relieve struggling and really-distressed
+merit, and to overcome that feeling of independence which, even under
+circumstances like these, leads them to shrink from being relieved by
+private charity. I know that instances of this kind have happened; I
+know that cases have occurred where it has been necessary to press upon
+individuals, themselves upon the point of starvation, the necessity
+of accepting this relief; and from this place I take the opportunity
+of saying, and I hope it will go far and wide, that in circumstances
+like the present, discreditable as habitual dependence upon parochial
+relief may be, it is no degradation, it is no censure, it is no possible
+cause of blame, that any man, however great his industry, however high
+his character, however noble his feeling of self-dependence, should
+feel himself obliged to have recourse to that Christian charity which
+I am sure we are all prepared to give. Gentlemen, I might perhaps here,
+as far as my resolution goes, close the observations I have to make
+to you. The resolution I have to move, indeed, is one which calls for
+no extensive argument; and a plain statement of facts, such as that
+I have laid before you, is sufficient to obtain for it your unanimous
+assent. The resolution is:-</p>
+<p>&quot;'That the manufacturing districts of Lancashire and the adjoining
+counties are suffering from an extent of destitution happily hitherto
+unknown, which has been borne by the working classes with a patient
+submission and resolution entitling them to the warmest sympathy of
+their fellow-countrymen.'</p>
+<p>&quot;But, gentlemen, I cannot, in the first place, lose the opportunity
+of asking this great assembly with what feelings this state of things
+should be contemplated by us who are in happier circumstances. Let me
+say with all reverence that it is a subject for deep national humiliation,
+and, above all, for deep humiliation for this great county. We have
+been accustomed for years to look with pride and complacency upon the
+enormous growth of that manufacture which has conferred wealth upon
+so many thousands, and which has so largely increased the manufacturing
+population and industry of this country. We have seen within the last
+twelve or fourteen years the consumption of cotton in Europe increase
+from fifty thousand to ninety thousand bales a week; we have seen the
+weight of cotton goods exported from this country in the shape of yarn
+and manufactured goods amount to no less than nine hundred and eighty-three
+million pounds in a single year. We have seen, in spite of all opposing
+circumstances, this trade constantly and rapidly extending; we have
+seen colossal fortunes made; and we have as a county, perhaps, been
+accustomed to look down on those less fortunate districts whose wealth
+and fortunes were built upon a less secure foundation; we have reckoned
+upon this great manufacture as the pride of our country, and as the
+best security against the possibility of war, in consequence of the
+mutual interest between us and the cotton-producing districts.</p>
+<p>We have held that in the cotton manufacture was the pride, the strength,
+and the certainty of our future national prosperity and peace. I am
+afraid we have looked upon this trade too much in the spirit of the
+Assyrian monarch of old. We have said to ourselves:&mdash;'Is not this
+great Babylon, that I have built for the house of my kingdom by the
+might of my power, and for the honour of my majesty?' But in the hour
+in which the monarch used these words the word came forth, 'Thy kingdom
+is departed from thee!' That which was his pride became his humiliation;
+that which was our pride has become our humiliation and our punishment.
+That which was the source of our wealth&mdash;the sure foundation on
+which we built&mdash;has become itself the instrument of our humiliating
+poverty, which compels us to appeal to the charity of other counties.
+The reed upon which we leaned has gone through the hand that reposed
+on it, and has pierced us to the heart.</p>
+<p>But, gentlemen, we have happier and more gratifying subjects of contemplation.
+I have pointed to the noble conduct which must make us proud of our
+countrymen in the mmiufacturing districts; I have pointed to the noble
+and heroic submission to difficulties they could never foresee, and
+privations they never expected to encounter; but again, we have another
+feeling which I am sure will not be disappointed, which the country
+has nobly met&mdash;that this is an opportunity providentially given
+to those who are blessed with wealth and fortune to show their sympathy&mdash;their
+practical, active, earnest sympathy&mdash;with the sufferings of their
+poorer brethren, and, with God's blessing, used as I trust by God's
+blessing it will be, it may be a link to bind together more closely
+than ever the various classes in this great community, to satisfy the
+wealthy that the poor have a claim, not only to their money, but to
+their sympathy&mdash;to satisfy the poor also that the rich are not
+overbearing, grinding tyrants, but men like themselves, who have hearts
+to feel for suffering, and are prompt to use the means God has given
+to them for the relief of that suffering.</p>
+<p>Gentlemen, a few words more, and I will not further trespass on your
+attention. But I feel myself called on, as chairman of that executive
+committee to which my noble friend in the chair has paid so just a compliment,
+to lay before you some answer to objections which have been made, and
+which in other counties, if not in this, may have a tendency to check
+the contributions which have hitherto so freely flowed in. Before doing
+so, allow me to say (and I can do it with more freedom, because in the,
+earlier stages of its organisation I was not a member of that committee)
+it is bare justice to them to say that there never was an occasion on
+which greater or more earnest efforts were made to secure that the distribution
+of those funds intrusted to them should be guarded against all possibility
+of abuse, and be distributed without the slightest reference to political
+or religious opinions; distributed with the most perfect impartiality,
+and in every locality, through the instrumentality of persons in whom
+the neighbourhood might repose entire confidence. Such has been our
+endeavour, and I think to a great extent we have been successful. I
+may say that, although the central executive committee is composed of
+men of most discordant opinions in politics and religion, nothing for
+a single moment has interfered with the harmony&mdash;I had almost said
+with the unanimity&mdash;of our proceedings. There has been nothing
+to produce any painful feelings among us, nor any desire on the part
+of the representatives of different districts to obtain an undue share
+for the districts they represented from the common fund.</p>
+<p>But there are three points on which objection has being taken to
+the course we have adopted. One has been, that the relief we have given
+has not been given with a sufficiently liberal hand; the next&mdash;and
+I think I shall show you that these two are inconsistent, the one answering
+the other&mdash;is, that there has not been a sufficient pressure on
+the local rates; and the third is, that Lancashire has not hitherto
+done its duty with reference to the subscriptions from other parts of
+the country. Allow me a few words on each of these subjects.</p>
+<p>First, the amount to which we have endeavoured to raise our subscriptions
+has been to the extent of from two shillings to two shillings and sixpence
+weekly per head; in this late cold weather an additional sixpence has
+been provided, mainly for coal and clothing. Our endeavour has been
+to raise the total income of each individual to at least two shillings
+or two shillings and sixpence a week. Now, I am told that this is a
+very inadequate amount, and no doubt it is an amount very far below
+that which many of the recipients were in the habit of obtaining. But
+in the first place, I think there is some misapprehension when we speak
+of the sum of two shillings a week. If anybody supposes that two shillings
+a week is the maximum to each individual, he will be greatly mistaken.
+Two shillings a head per week is the sum we endeavoured to arrive at
+as the average receipt of every man, woman, and child receiving assistance;
+consequently, a man and his wife with a family of three or four small
+children would receive, not two shillings, but ten or twelve shillings
+from the fund&mdash;an amount not far short of that which in prosperous
+times an honest and industrious labourer in other parts of the country
+would obtain for the maintenance of his family. I am not in the least
+afraid that, if we had fixed the amount at four shillings or five shillings
+per head, such is the liberality of the country, we should not have
+had sufficient means of doing so. But were we justified in doing that?
+If we had raised their income beyond that of the labouring man in ordinary
+times, we should have gone far to destroy the most valuable feeling
+of the manufacturing population&mdash;namely, that of honest self-reliance,
+and we should have done our best, to a great extent, to demoralise a
+large portion of the population, and induce them to prefer the wages
+of charitable relief to the return of honest industry. But then we are
+told that the rates are not sufficiently high in the distressed districts,
+and that we ought to raise them before we come on the fund. In the first
+place, we have no power to compel the guardians to raise the rates beyond
+that which they think sufficient for the maintenance of those to be
+relieved, and, naturally considering themselves the trustees of the
+ratepayers, they are unwilling, and, indeed, ought not to raise the
+amount beyond that which is called for by absolute necessity. But suppose
+we had raised the relief from our committee very far beyond the amount
+thought sufficient by the guardians, what would have been the inevitable
+result? Why, that the rates which it is desired to charge more heavily
+would have been relieved, because persons would have taken themselves
+off the poor-rates, and placed themselves on the charitable committee,
+and therefore the very object theso objectors have in view in calling
+for an increase of our donations would have been defeated by their own
+measure. I must say, however, honestly speaking all I feel, that, with
+regard to the amount of rates, there are some districts which have applied
+to us for assistance which I think have not sufficient pressure on their
+rates. Where I find, for example, that the total assessment on the nett
+rateable value does not exceed ninepence or tenpence in the pound, I
+really think such districts ought to be called upon to increase their
+rates before applying for extraneous help. But we have urged as far
+as we could urge&mdash;we have no power to command the guardians to
+be more liberal in the rate of relief, and to that extent to raise the
+rates in their districts.</p>
+<p>And now a word on the subject of raising rates, because I have received
+many letters in which it has been said that the rates are nothing&mdash;'they
+are only three shillings or four shillings in the pound, while we in
+the agricultural districts are used to six shillings in the pound. We
+consider that no extraordinary rate, and it is monstrous,' they say,
+'that the accumulated wealth of years in the county of Lancashire should
+not more largely contribute to the relief of its own distress.' I will
+not enter into an argument as to how far the larger amount of wages
+in the manufacturing districts may balance the smaller&mdash;amount
+of wages and the larger amount of poor-rates in the agricultural districts.
+I don't wish to enter into any comparison; I have seen many comparisons
+of this kind made, but they were full of fallacies from one end to the
+other. I will not waste your time by discussing them; but I ask you
+to consider the effect of a sudden rise of rates as a charge upon the
+accumulated wealth of a district. It is not the actual amount of the
+rates, but it is the sudden and rapid increase of the usual rate of
+the rates that presses most heavily on the ratepayers. In the long run,
+the rates must fall on real property, because all bargains between owner
+and occupier are made with reference to the amount of rates to be paid,
+and in all calculations between them, that is an element which enters
+into the first agreement. But when the rate is suddenly increased from
+one shilling to four shillings, it does not fall on the accumulated
+wealth or on the real property, but it falls on the occupier, the ratepayer&mdash;men,
+the great bulk of whom are at the present moment themselves struggling
+upon the verge of pauperism. Therefore, if in those districts it should
+appear to persons accustomed to agricultural districts that the amount
+of our rates was very small, I would say to them that any attempt to
+increase those rates would only increase the pauperism, diminish the
+number of solvent ratepayers, and greatly aggravate the distress. In
+some of the districts I think the amount of the rates quite sufficient
+to satisfy the most ardent advocate of high rates. For example, in the
+town of Ashton they have raised in the course of the year one rate of
+one shilling and sixpence, another of one shilling and six-pence, and
+a third of four shillings and sixpence, which it is hoped will carry
+them over the year. They have also, in addition to these rates, drawn
+largely on previous balances, and I am afraid have largely added to
+their debt. The total of what has been or will be expended, with a prospect
+of even a great increase, in that borough exceeds eleven shillings and
+elevenpence in the pound for the relief of the poor alone. And, gentlemen,
+this rate of four shillings and sixpence about to be levied, which ought
+to yield about &pound;32,000, it is calculated will not yield &pound;24,000.
+In Stockport the rate is even higher, being twelve shillings or more
+per pound, and there it is calculated that at the next levy the defalcations
+will be at least forty per cent, according to the calculation of the
+poor-law commissioner himself. To talk, then, of raising rates in such
+districts as these would be absolute insanity; and even in districts
+less heavily rated, any sudden attempt considerably to increase the
+rate would have the effect of pauperising those who are now solvent,
+and to augment rather than diminish the distress of the district.</p>
+<p>The last point on which I would make an observation relates to the
+objection which has been taken to our proceedings, on the ground that
+Lancashire has not done its duty in this distress, and that consequently
+other parts of the country have been unduly called on to contribute
+to that which I don't deny properly and primarily belongs to Lancashire.
+Gentlemen, it is very hard to ascertain with any certainty what has
+been done by Lancashire, because, in the first place, the amount of
+local subscriptions and the amount of public contributions by themselves
+give no fair indication of that which really has been done by public
+or private charity. I don't mean to say that there are not individuals
+who have grossly neglected their duty in Lancashire. On the other hand,
+we know there are many, though I am not about to name them, who have
+acted with the most princely munificence, liberality, and generous feeling,
+involving an amount of sacrifice of which no persons out of this county
+can possibly have the slightest conception. I am not saying there are
+not instances of niggard feeling, though I am not about to name them,
+which really it was hardly possible to believe could exist.</p>
+<p>Will you forgive me if I trespass for a few moments by reading two
+or three extracts from confidential reports made to us every week from
+the different districts by a gentleman whose services were placed at
+our disposal by the Government? These reports being, as I have said,
+confidential, I will not mention the names of the persons, firms, or
+localities alluded to, though in some instances they may be guessed
+at. This report was made to us on the 25th of November, and I will quote
+some of the remarks made in it. The writer observes:&mdash;'It must
+not be inferred when such remarks are absent from the reports that nothing
+is done. I have great difficulty sometimes in overcoming the feeling
+that my questions on these points are a meddlesome interference in private
+matters.' Bearing that remark in mind, I say here are instances which
+I am sure reflect as much credit on the individuals as on the interest
+they represent and the county to which they belong. I am sure I shall
+be excused for trespassing on your patience by reading a few examples.
+He says, under No.1,&mdash;'Nearly three thousand operatives out of
+the whole, most of them the hands of Messrs __ and Mr __, at his own
+cost, employs five hundred and fifty-five girls in sewing five days
+a week, paying them eightpence a day; sends seventy-six youths from
+thirteen to fourteen years old, and three hundred and thirty-two adults
+above fifteen, five days a week to school, paying them from fourpence
+to eightpence per day, according to age. He also pays the school pence
+of all the children. Mr __ has hitherto paid his people two days' wages
+a week, but he is now preparing to adopt a scheme like Mr __ to a great
+extent. I would add that, in addition to wages, Mr __ gives bread, soup,
+socks, and clogs. 2. Mr __ has at his own expense caused fifty to sixty
+dinners to be provided for sick persons every day. These consist of
+roast beef or mutton, soup, beef-tea, rice-puddings, wine, and porter,
+as ordered; and the forty visitors distribute orders as they find it
+necessary. Ostensibly all is done in the name of the committee; but
+Mr __ pays all the cost. An admirable soup kitchen is being fitted up,
+where the poor man may purchase a good hot meal for one penny, and either
+carry it away or consume it on the premises. 3. Messrs __ are giving
+to their hands three days' wages (about &pound;500 a week.) Messrs __
+and __ are giving their one hundred and twenty hands, and Messrs their
+two hundred and thirty hands, two days' wages a week. I may mention
+that Messrs __ are providing for all their one thousand seven hundred
+hands. 4. A great deal of private charity exists, one firm having spent
+&pound;1400 in money, exclusive of weekly doles of bread. 5. Messrs
+__ are providing all their old hands with sufficient clothing and bedding
+to supply every want, so that their subscription of &pound;50 is merely
+nominal. 6. The ladies of the village visit and relieve privately with
+money, food, or clothing, or all, if needed urgently. In a few cases
+distraint has been threatened, but generally the poor are living rent
+free. 7. Payment of rent is almost unknown. The agent for several landlords
+assures me he could not from his receipts pay the property-tax, but
+no distraints are made. 8. The bulk of the rents are not collected,
+and distraints are unknown. 9. The millowners are chiefly cottage-owners,
+and are asking for no rents.'</p>
+<p>That leads me to call your attention to the fact that, in addition
+to the sacrifices they are making, the millowners are themselves to
+a large extent the owners of cottages, and I believe, without exception,
+they are at the present moment receiving no rent, thereby losing a large
+amount of income they had a right to count upon. I know one case which
+is curious as showing how great is the difficulty of ascertaining what
+is really done. It is required in the executive committee that every
+committee should send in an account of the local subscriptions. We received
+an application from a small district where there was one mill, occupied
+by some young men who had just entered into the business. We returned
+a refusal, inasmuch as there was no local subscription; but when we
+came to inquire, we found that from last February, when the mill closed,
+these young men had maintained the whole of their hands, that they paid
+one-third of the rates of the whole district, and that they were at
+that moment suffering a yearly loss of &pound;300 in the rent of cottages
+for which they were not drawing a single halfpenny. That was a case
+in which we thought it right in the first instance to withhold any assistance,
+because there appeared to be no local subscription, and it shows how
+persons at a distance may be deceived by the want apparently of any
+local subscription. But I will throw out of consideration the whole
+of those amounts&mdash;the whole of this unparalleled munificence on
+the part of many manufacturers which never appears in any account whatever&mdash;I
+will throw out everything done in private and unostentatious charity&mdash;the
+supplies of bedding, clothing, food, necessaries of every description,
+which do not appear as public subscriptions, and will appeal to public
+subscriptions alone; and I will appeal to an authority which cannot,
+I think, be disputed&mdash;the authority of the commissioner, Mr Farnall
+himself, whose services the Government kindly placed at our disposal,
+and of whose activity, industry, and readiness to assist us, it is difficult
+to speak in too high terms of praise. A better authority could not be
+quoted on the subject of the comparative support given in aid of this
+distress in Lancashire and other districts. I find that, excluding altogether
+the subscriptions in the Lord Mayor's Mansion House list&mdash;of which
+we know the general amount, but not the sources from which it is derived,
+or how it is expended&mdash;but excluding it from consideration, and
+dealing only with the funds which have been given or promised to be
+administered through the central executive committee, I find that, including
+some of the subscriptions which we know are coming in this day, the
+total amount which has been contributed is about &pound;540,000. Of
+that amount we received&mdash;and it is a most gratifying fact&mdash;&pound;40,000
+from the colonies; we received from the rest of the United Kingdom &pound;100,000;
+and from the county of Lancaster itself, in round numbers, &pound;400,000
+out of &pound;540,000.</p>
+<p>Now, I hope that these figures, upon the estimate and authority of
+the Government poor-law commissioner, will be sufficient, at all events,
+to do away with the imputation that Lancashire, at this crisis, is not
+doing its duty. But if Lancashire has been doing its duty&mdash;if it
+is doing its duty&mdash;that is no reason why Lancashire should relax
+its efforts; and of that I trust the result of this day's proceedings
+will afford a sufficient testimony. We are not yet at the height of
+the distress. It is estimated that at the present moment there are three
+hundred and fifty-five thousand persons engaged in the different manufactories.
+Of these forty thousand only are in full work; one hundred and thirty-five
+thousand are at short work, and one hundred and eighty thousand are
+out of work altogether. In the course of the next six weeks this number
+is likely to be greatly increased; and the loss of wages is not less
+than &pound;137,000 a week. This, I say then, is a state of things that
+calls for the most active exertions of all classes of the community,
+who, I am happy to say, have responded to the call which has been made
+upon them most nobly, from the Queen down to the lowest individual in
+the community. At the commencement of the distress, the Queen, with
+her usual munificence, sent us a donation of &pound;2000. The first
+act of His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, upon attaining his majority,
+was to write from Rome, and to request that his name should be put down
+for &pound;1000. And to go to the other end of the scale, I received
+two days ago, from Lord Shaftesbury, a donation of &pound;1200 from
+some thousands of working men, readers of a particular periodical which
+he mentioned, the <i>British Workman</i>. To that sum Lord Shaftesbury
+stated many thousands of persons had subscribed, and it embraced contributions
+even from the brigade of shoe-black boys.</p>
+<p>On the part of all classes there has been the greatest liberality
+displayed; and I should be unjust to the working men, I should be unjust
+to the poor in every district, if I did not say that in proportion to
+their means they have contributed more than their share. In no case
+hardly which has come to my knowledge has there been any grudging, and
+in many cases I know that poor persons have contributed more than common
+prudence would have dictated. These observations have run to a greater
+extent than I had intended; but I thought it desirable that the whole
+case, as far as possible, should be brought before you, and I have only
+now earnestly to request that you will this day do your part towards
+the furtherance of the good work. I have no apprehension, if the distress
+should not last over five or six months more, that the spontaneous efforts
+of individuals and public bodies, and contributions received in every
+part of the country, will fall short of that which is needed for enabling
+the population to tide over this deep distress; and I earnestly hope
+that, if it be necessary to apply to Parliament, as a last resource,
+the representatives of the country will not grudge their aid; yet I
+do fervently hope and believe that, with the assistance of the machinery
+of that bill passed in Parliament last session, (the Rate in Aid Act,)
+which will come into operation shortly after Christmas, but could not
+possibly be brought into operation sooner, I do fervently hope and believe
+that this great manufacturing district will be spared the further humiliation
+of coming before Parliament, which ought to be the last resource, as
+a claimant, a suppliant for the bounty of the nation at large. I don't
+apprehend that there will be a single dissentient voice raised against
+the resolution which I have now the honour to move.&quot;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>SONGS OF DISTRESS,<br />CHIEFLY WRITTEN DURING THE COTTON FAMINE.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>STANZAS TO MY STARVING KIN IN THE NORTH.<br />BY ELIZA COOK.</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Sad are the sounds that are breaking forth<br />From the women and
+men of the brave old North!<br />Sad are the sights for human eyes,<br />In
+fireless homes, 'neath wintry skies;<br />Where wrinkles gather on childhood's
+skin,<br />And youth's &quot;clemm'd&quot; cheek is pallid and thin;<br />Where
+the good, the honest&mdash;unclothed, unfed,<br />Child, mother, and
+father, are craving for bread!<br />But faint not, fear not&mdash;still
+have trust;<br />Your voices are heard, and your claims are just.<br />England
+to England's self is true,<br />And &quot;God and the People&quot; will
+help you through.</p>
+<p>Brothers and sisters! full well ye have stood,<br />While the gripe
+of gaunt Famine has curdled your blood!<br />No murmur, no threat on
+your lips have place,<br />Though ye look on the Hunger-fiend face to
+face;<br />But haggard and worn ye silently bear,<br />Dragging your
+death-chains with patience and prayer;<br />With your hearts as loyal,
+your deeds as right,<br />As when Plenty and Sleep blest your day and
+your night,<br />Brothers and sisters! oh! do not believe<br />It is
+Charity's GOLD ALONE ye receive.<br />Ah, no! It is Sympathy, Feeling,
+and Hope,<br />That pull out in the Life-boat to fling ye a rope.</p>
+<p>Fondly I've lauded your wealth-winning hands,<br />Planting Commerce
+and Fame throughout measureless lands;<br />And my patriot-love, and
+my patriot-song,<br />To the children of Labour will ever belong.<br />Women
+and men of this brave old soil!<br />I weep that starvation should guerdon
+your toil;<br />But I glory to see ye&mdash;proudly mute&mdash;<br />Showing
+<i>souls</i> like the <i>hero</i>, not <i>fangs</i> like the brute.<br />Oh!
+keep courage within; be the Britons ye are;<br />HE, who driveth the
+storm hath His hand on the star!<br />England to England's sons shall
+be true,<br />And &quot;God and the People&quot; will carry ye through!</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>THE SMOKELESS CHIMNEY<br />BY A LANCASHIRE LADY <a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1">{1}</a>
+(E.J.B.)</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>STRANGER! who to buy art willing,<br />Seek not here for talent rare;<br />Mine's
+no song of love or beauty,<br />But a tale of want and care.</p>
+<p>Traveller on the Northern Railway!<br />Look and learn, as on you
+speed;<br />See the hundred smokeless chimneys,<br />Learn their tale
+of cheerless need.</p>
+<p>Ah! perchance the landscape fairer<br />Charms your taste, your artist-eye;<br />Little
+do you guess how dearly<br />Costs that now unclouded sky.</p>
+<p>&quot;How much prettier is this county!&quot;<br />Says the careless
+passer-by;<br />&quot;Clouds of smoke we see no longer,<br />What's
+the reason?&mdash;Tell me why.</p>
+<p>&quot;Better far it were, most surely,<br />Never more such clouds
+to see,<br />Bringing taint o'er nature's beauty,<br />With their foul
+obscurity.&quot;</p>
+<p>Thoughtless fair one! from yon chimney<br />Floats the golden breath
+of life;<br />Stop that current at your pleasure!<br />Stop! and starve
+the child&mdash;the wife.</p>
+<p>Ah! to them each smokeless chimney<br />Is a signal of despair;<br />They
+see hunger, sickness, ruin,<br />Written in that pure, bright air.</p>
+<p>&quot;Mother! mother! see! 'twas truly<br />Said last week the mill
+would stop;<br />Mark yon chimney, nought is going,<br />There's no
+smoke from 'out o'th top!'</p>
+<p>&quot;Father! father! what's the reason<br />That the chimneys smokeless
+stand?<br />Is it true that all through strangers,<br />We must starve
+in our own land?&quot;</p>
+<p>Low upon her chair that mother<br />Droops, and sighs with tearful
+eye;<br />At the hearthstone lags the father,<br />Musing o'er the days
+gone by.</p>
+<p>Days which saw him glad and hearty,<br />Punctual at his work of
+love;<br />When the week's end brought him plenty,<br />And he thanked
+the Lord above.</p>
+<p>When his wages, earned so justly,<br />Gave him clothing, home, and
+food;<br />When his wife, with fond caresses,<br />Blessed his heart,
+so kind and good.</p>
+<p>Neat and clean each Sunday saw them,<br />In their place of prayer
+and praise,<br />Little dreaming that the morrow<br />Piteous cries
+for help would raise.</p>
+<p>Weeks roll on, and still yon chimney<br />Gives of better times no
+sign;<br />Men by thousands cry for labour,<br />Daily cry, and daily
+pine.</p>
+<p>Now the things, so long and dearly<br />Prized before, are pledged
+away;<br />Clock and Bible, marriage-presents,<br />Both must go&mdash;how
+sad to say!</p>
+<p>Charley trots to school no longer,<br />Nelly grows more pale each
+day;<br />Nay, the baby's shoes, so tiny,<br />Must be sold, for bread
+to pay.</p>
+<p>They who loathe to be dependent<br />Now for alms are forced to ask<br />Hard
+is mill-work, but, believe me,<br />Begging is the bitterest task.</p>
+<p>Soon will come the doom most dreaded,<br />With a horror that appals;<br />Lo!
+before their downcast faces<br />Grimly stare the workhouse walls.</p>
+<p>Stranger, if these sorrows touch you,<br />Widely bid your bounty
+flow;<br />And assist my poor endeavours<br />To relieve this load of
+woe.</p>
+<p>Let no more the smokeless chimneys<br />Draw from you one word of
+praise;<br />Think, oh, think upon the thousands<br />Who are moaning
+out their days.</p>
+<p>Rather pray that peace, soon bringing<br />Work and plenty in her
+train,<br />We may see these smokeless chimneys<br />Blackening all
+the land again.</p>
+<p>1862.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>THE MILL-HAND'S PETITION.</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The following verses are copied from &quot;Lancashire Lyrics,&quot;
+edited by John Harland, Esq., F.S.A. They are extracted from a song
+&quot;by some 'W.C.,' printed as a street broadside, at Ashton-under-Lyne,
+and sung in most towns of South Lancashire.&quot;</p>
+<p>We have come to ask for assistance;<br />At home we've been starving
+too long;<br />An' our children are wanting subsistence;<br />Kindly
+aid us to help them along.</p>
+<p>CHORUS.</p>
+<p>For humanity is calling;<br />Don't let the call be in vain;<br />But
+help us; we're needy and falling;<br />And God will return it again.</p>
+<p>War's clamour and civil commotion<br />Has stagnation brought in
+its train;<br />And stoppage bring with it starvation,<br />So help
+us some bread to obtain.</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;For humanity is calling.<br />The American war
+is still lasting;<br />Like a terrible nightmare it leans<br />On the
+breast of a country, now fasting<br />For cotton, for work, and for
+means.</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And humanity is calling.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHEER UP A BIT LONGER. <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2">{2}</a><br />BY
+SAMUEL LAYCOCK.</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Cheer up a bit longer, mi brothers i' want,<br />There's breeter
+days for us i' store;<br />There'll be plenty o' tommy an' wark for
+us o'<br />When this 'Merica bother gets o'er.<br />Yo'n struggled reet
+nobly, an' battled reet hard,<br />While things han bin lookin' so feaw;<br />Yo'n
+borne wi' yo're troubles and trials so long,<br />It's no use o' givin'
+up neaw.</p>
+<p>Feight on, as yo' han done, an' victory's sure,<br />For th' battle
+seems very nee won,<br />Be firm i' yo're sufferin', an' dunno give
+way;<br />They're nowt nobbut ceawards'at run.<br />Yo' know heaw they'n
+praised us for stondin' so firm,<br />An' shall we neaw stagger an'
+fo?<br />Nowt o'th soart;&mdash;iv we nobbut brace up an' be hard,<br />We
+can stond a bit longer, aw know.</p>
+<p>It's hard to keep clemmin' an' starvin' so long;<br />An' one's hurt
+to see th' little things fret,<br />Becose there's no buttercakes for
+'em to eat;<br />But we'n allus kept pooin' thro' yet.<br />As bad as
+toimes are, an' as feaw as things look,<br />We're certain they met
+ha' bin worse;<br />We'n had tommy to eat, an' clooas to put on;<br />They'n
+only bin roughish, aw know.</p>
+<p>Aw've begged on yo' to keep up yo're courage afore,<br />An' neaw
+let me ax yo' once moor;<br />Let's noan get disheartened, there's hope
+for us yet,<br />We needn't dispair tho' we're poor.<br />We cannot
+expect it'll allus be foine;<br />It's dark for a while, an' then clear;<br />We'n
+mirth mixed wi' sadness, an' pleasure wi' pain,<br />An' shall have
+as long as we're here.</p>
+<p>This world's full o' changes for better an' wur,<br />An' this is
+one change among th' ruck;<br />We'n a toime o' prosperity,&mdash;toime
+o' success,<br />An' then we'n a reawnd o' bad luck.<br />We're baskin'
+i' sunshine, at one toime o'th day,<br />At other toimes ceawerin' i'th
+dark;<br />We're sometoimes as hearty an' busy as owt,<br />At other
+toimes ill, an' beawt wark.</p>
+<p>Good bless yo'! mi brothers, we're nobbut on th' tramp,<br />We never
+stay long at one spot;<br />An' while we keep knockin' abeawt i' this
+world,<br />Disappointments will fall to eawer lot:<br />So th' best
+thing we can do, iv we meon to get thro',<br />Is to wrastle wi' cares
+as they come;<br />We shall feel rayther tired,&mdash;but let's never
+heed that,&mdash;<br />We can rest us weel when we get whoam.</p>
+<p>Cheer up, then, aw say, an' keep hopin' for th' best,<br />An' things
+'ll soon awter, yo'll see;<br />There'll be oceans o' butties for Tommy
+an' Fred,<br />An' th' little un perched on yo're knee.<br />Bide on
+a bit longer, tak' heart once ogen,<br />An' do give o'er lookin' so
+feaw;<br />As we'n battled, an' struggled, an' suffered so long,<br />It's
+no use o' givin' up neaw.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>FRETTIN'.</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><i>(From &quot;Phases of Distress&mdash;Lancashire Rhymes.&quot;)</i></p>
+<p>BY JOSEPH RAMSBOTTOM.</p>
+<p>Fro' heawrs to days&mdash;a dhreary length&mdash;<br />Fro' days
+to weeks one idle stons,<br />An' slowly sinks fro' pride an' strength<br />To
+weeny heart an' wakely honds;<br />An' still one hopes, an' ever tries<br />To
+think 'at better days mun come;<br />Bo' th' sun may set, an' th' sun
+may rise,&mdash;<br />No sthreak o' leet one finds a-whoam.</p>
+<p>Aw want to see thoose days again,<br />When folk can win whate'er
+they need;<br />O God! to think 'at wortchin' men<br />Should be poor
+things to pet an' feed!<br />There's some to th' Bastile han to goo,<br />To
+live o'th rates they'n help'd to pay;<br />An' some get &quot;dow&quot;
+<a name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3">{3}</a> to help 'em through;<br />An'
+some are taen or sent away.</p>
+<p>What is there here, 'at one should live,<br />Or wish to live, weigh'd
+deawn wi' grief,<br />Through weary weeks an' months, 'at give<br />Not
+one short heawr o' sweet relief?<br />A sudden plunge, a little blow,<br />Would
+end at once mi' care an' pain!<br />An' why noa do't?&mdash;for weel
+aw know<br />Aw's lose bo' ills, if nowt aw gain.</p>
+<p>An' why noa do't? It ill 'ud tell<br />O' thoose wur laft beheend,
+aw fear;<br />It's wring, at fust, to kill mysel',<br />It's wring to
+lyev mi childer here.<br />One's like to tak' some thowt for them&mdash;<br />Some
+sort o' comfort one should give;<br />So one mun bide, an' starve, an'
+clem,<br />An' pine, an' mope, an' fret, an' live.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>TH' SHURAT WEAVER'S SONG. <a name="citation4"></a><a href="#footnote4">{4}</a></h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>BY SAMUEL LAYCOCK.</p>
+<p>TUNE<i>&mdash;&quot;Rory O'More.&quot;</i></p>
+<p>Confound it! aw ne'er wur so woven afore;<br />My back's welly brocken,
+mi fingers are sore;<br />Aw've been starin' an' rootin' amung this
+Shurat,<br />Till aw'm very near getten as bloint as a bat.</p>
+<p>Aw wish aw wur fur enough off, eawt o'th road,<br />For o' weavin'
+this rubbitch aw'm getten reet sto'd;<br />Aw've nowt i' this world
+to lie deawn on but straw,<br />For aw've nobbut eight shillin' this
+fortnit to draw.</p>
+<p>Neaw, aw haven't mi family under mi hat;<br />Aw've a woife and six
+childer to keep eawt o' that;<br />So aw'm rayther amung it just neaw,
+yo may see&mdash;<br />Iv ever a fellow wur puzzle't, it's me!<br />Iv
+aw turn eawt to steal, folk'll co' me a thief;<br />An' aw conno' put
+th' cheek on to ax for relief;<br />As aw said i' eawr heawse t'other
+neet to mi wife,<br />Aw never did nowt o' this mak' i' my life.</p>
+<p>O dear! iv yon Yankees could nobbut just see,<br />Heaw they're clemmin'
+an' starvin' poor weavers loike me,<br />Aw think they'd soon sattle
+their bother, an' strive<br />To send us some cotton to keep us alive.</p>
+<p>There's theawsan's o' folk, just i'th best o' their days,<br />Wi'
+traces o' want plainly sin i' their faze;<br />An' a futur afore 'em
+as dreary an' dark;<br />For, when th' cotton gets done, we's be o'
+eawt o' wark.</p>
+<p>We'n bin patient an' quiet as lung as we con;<br />Th' bits o' things
+we had by us are welly o' gone;<br />Mi clogs an' mi shoon are both
+gettin' worn eawt,<br />An' my halliday clooas are o' gone &quot;up
+th' speawt!&quot;</p>
+<p>Mony a time i' my days aw've sin things lookin' feaw,<br />But never
+as awkard as what they are neaw;<br />Iv there isn't some help for us
+factory folk soon,<br />Aw'm sure 'at we's o' be knock'd reet eawt o'
+tune.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>GOD HELP THE POOR. <a name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5">{5}</a></h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>BY SAMUEL BAMFORD.</p>
+<p>God help the poor, who in this wintry morn,<br />Come forth of alleys
+dim and courts obscure;<br />God help yon poor, pale girl, who droops
+forlorn,<br />And meekly her affliction doth endure!</p>
+<p>God help the outcast lamb! she trembling stands,<br />All wan her
+lips, and frozen red her hands;<br />Her mournful eyes are modestly
+down cast,<br />Her night-black hair streams on the fitful blast;<br />Her
+bosom, passing fair, is half reveal'd,<br />And oh! so cold the snow
+lies there congeal'd;<br />Her feet benumb'd, her shoes all rent and
+worn;&mdash;<br />God help thee, outcast lamb, who stand'st forlorn!<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;God
+help the poor!</p>
+<p>God help the poor! an infant's feeble wail<br />Comes from yon narrow
+gate-way! and behold<br />A female crouching there, so deathly pale,<br />Huddling
+her child, to screen it from the cold!&mdash;<br />Her vesture scant,
+her bonnet crush'd and torn;<br />A thin shawl doth her baby dear enfold.<br />And
+there she bides the ruthless gale of morn,<br />Which almost to her
+heart hath sent its cold!<br />And now she sudden darts a ravening look,<br />As
+one with new hot bread comes past the nook;<br />And, as the tempting
+load is onward borne,<br />She weeps. God help thee, hapless one forlorn!<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;God
+help the poor!</p>
+<p>God help the poor! Behold yon famish'd lad<br />No shoes, no hose,
+his wounded feet protect;<br />With limping gait, and looks so dreamy-sad,<br />He
+wanders onward, stopping to inspect<br />Each window, stored with articles
+of food;<br />He yearns but to enjoy one cheering meal.<br />Oh! to
+his hungry palate, viands rude<br />Would yield a zest the famish'd
+only feel!<br />He now devours a crust of mouldy bread&mdash;<br />With
+teeth and hands the precious boon is torn,<br />Unmindful of the storm
+which round his head<br />Impetuous sweeps. God help thee, child forlorn<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;God
+help the poor!<br />God help the poor! Another have I found<br />A bow'd
+and venerable man is he;<br />His slouched hat with faded crape is bound,<br />His
+coat is gray, and threadbare, too, I see;<br />&quot;The rude winds&quot;
+seem to &quot;mock his hoary hair;&quot;<br />His shirtless bosom to
+the blast is bare.<br />Anon he turns, and casts a wistful eye,<br />And
+with scant napkin wipes the blinding spray;<br />And looks again, as
+if he fain would spy<br />Friends he hath feasted in his better day<br />Ah!
+some are dead, and some have long forborne<br />To know the poor; and
+he is left forlorn!<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;God help the poor!</p>
+<p>God help the poor who in lone valleys dwell,<br />Or by far hills,
+where whin and heather grow<br />Theirs is a story sad indeed to tell!<br />Yet
+little cares the world, nor seeks to know<br />The toil and want poor
+weavers undergo.<br />The irksome loom must have them up at morn;<br />They
+work till worn-out nature will have sleep;<br />They taste, but are
+not fed. Cold snow drifts deep<br />Around the fireless cot, and blocks
+the door;<br />The night-storm howls a dirge o'er moss and moor!<br />And
+shall they perish thus, oppress'd and lorn?<br />Shall toil and famine
+hopeless still be borne!&mdash;<br />No! GOD will yet arise, and HELP
+THE POOR!</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>TICKLE TIMES.</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>BY EDWIN WAUGH.</p>
+<p>Neaw times are so tickle, no wonder<br />One's heart should be deawn
+i' his shoon,<br />But, dang it, we munnot knock under<br />To th' freawn
+o' misfortin to soon;<br />Though Robin looks fearfully gloomy,<br />An'
+Jamie keeps starin' at th' greawnd,<br />An' thinkin' o'th table 'at's
+empty,<br />An' th' little things yammerin' reawnd.</p>
+<p>Iv a mon be both honest an' willin',<br />An' never a stroke to be
+had,<br />An' clemmin' for want ov a shillin',&mdash;<br />It's likely
+to make him feel sad;<br />It troubles his heart to keep seein'<br />His
+little brids feedin' o'th air;<br />An' it feels very hard to be deein',<br />An'
+never a mortal to care.</p>
+<p>But life's sich a quare bit o' travel,&mdash;<br />A warlock wi'
+sun an' wi' shade,&mdash;<br />An' then, on a bowster o' gravel,<br />They
+lay'n us i' bed wi' a spade;<br />It's no use o' peawtin' an' fratchin';<br />As
+th' whirligig's twirlin' areawn'd,<br />Have at it again; an' keep scratehin',<br />As
+lung as your yed's upo' greawnd.</p>
+<p>Iv one could but feel i'th inside on't,<br />There's trouble i' every
+heart;<br />An' thoose that'n th' biggest o'th pride on't,<br />Oft
+leeten o'th keenest o'th smart.<br />Whatever may chance to come to
+us,<br />Let's patiently hondle er share,&mdash;<br />For there's mony
+a fine suit o' clooas<br />That covers a murderin' care.</p>
+<p>There's danger i' every station,<br />I'th palace, as weel as i'th
+cot;<br />There's hanker i' every condition,<br />An' canker i' every
+lot;<br />There's folk that are weary o' livin',<br />That never fear't
+hunger nor cowd;<br />An' there's mony a miserly crayter<br />'At's
+deed ov a surfeit o' gowd.</p>
+<p>One feels, neaw 'at times are so nippin',<br />A mon's at a troublesome
+schoo',<br />That slaves like a horse for a livin',<br />An, flings
+it away like a foo;<br />But, as pleasur's sometimes a misfortin,<br />An'
+trouble sometimes a good thing,&mdash;<br />Though we liv'n o'th floor,
+same as layrocks,<br />We'n go up, like layrocks, to sing.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<pre>THE END</pre>
+<pre>JOHN HEYWOOD, PRINTER, MANCHESTER.</pre>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<pre>WAUGH'S POEMS AND LANCASHIRE SONGS. 5s.</pre>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<pre><i>CONTENTS</i>.</pre>
+<pre>POEMS.</pre>
+<pre>The Moorland Flower&mdash;To the Rose-Tree on my Window Sill&mdash;Keen Blows the North Wind&mdash;Now Summer's Sunlight Glowing&mdash;The Moorland Witch&mdash;The Church Clock&mdash;God Bless Thee, Old England&mdash;All on a Rosy Morn of June&mdash;Glad Welcome to Morn's Dewy Hours&mdash;Alas, how Hard it is to Smile&mdash;Ye Gallant Men of England&mdash;Here's to my Native Land&mdash;What Makes your Leaves Fall Down&mdash;Oh, had she been a Lowly Maid&mdash;The Old Bard's Welcome Home&mdash;Oh, Come Across the Fields&mdash;Oh, Weave a Garland for my Brow&mdash;The Wanderer's Hymn&mdash;Alone upon the Flowery Plain&mdash;Life's Twilight&mdash;Time is Flying&mdash;The Moorlands&mdash;The Captain's Friends&mdash;The World&mdash;To a Married Lady&mdash;Cultivate your Men&mdash;Old Man's Song&mdash;Bide on&mdash;Christmas Song&mdash;Love and Gold&mdash;When Drowsy Daylight&mdash;Mary&mdash;To the Spring Wind&mdash;Nightfall&mdash;To a Young Lady&mdash;Poor Travellers all&mdash;The Dying Rose&mdash;Lines&mdash;The Man of the Time&mdash;Christmas Morning.</pre>
+<pre>SONGS IN THE DIALECT.</pre>
+<pre>Come Whoam to thi Childer an' Me&mdash;What ails Thee, my Son Robin&mdash;God Bless these Poor Folk&mdash;Come, Mary, Link thi Arm i Mine&mdash;Chirrup &mdash;The Dule's i' this Bonnet o' Mine&mdash;Tickle Times&mdash;Jamie's Frolic&mdash;Owd Pinder&mdash;Come, Jamie, let's Undo thi Shoon&mdash;The Goblin Parson&mdash;While Takin' a Wift o' my Pipe&mdash;God Bless thi Silver Yure&mdash;Margit's Coming.</pre>
+<pre>WAUGH'S LANCASHIRE SONGS.</pre>
+<pre>Cloth, neat, 1s.</pre>
+<pre><i>CONTENTS</i>.</pre>
+<pre>Come Whoam to thi Childer an' Me&mdash;What ails Thee, my Son Robin&mdash;God Bless these Poor Folk&mdash;Come, Mary, Link thi Arm i' Mine&mdash;The Dule's i' this Bonnet o' Mine&mdash;Come, Jamie, let's Undo thi Shoon&mdash;Aw've Worn my Bits o' Shoon Away&mdash;Chirrup&mdash;Bonny Nan&mdash;Tum Rindle&mdash;Tickle Times&mdash;Jamie's Frolic&mdash;Owd Pinder&mdash;The Goblin Parson&mdash;While Takin' a Wift o' my Pipe&mdash;Yesterneet&mdash;God Bless thi Silver Yure&mdash;Margit's Coming&mdash;Eawr Folk&mdash;Th' Sweetheart Gate&mdash;Gentle Jone&mdash;Neet Fo'&mdash;A Lift on th' Way.</pre>
+<pre>WAUGH'S LANCASHIRE SONGS.</pre>
+<pre>In sheets, 1d. each.</pre>
+<pre><i>CONTENTS</i>.</pre>
+<pre>Come Whoam to thi Childer an' Me&mdash;What ails Thee, my Son Robin&mdash;God Bless these Poor Folk&mdash;Come, Mary, Link thi Arm i' Mine&mdash;The Dule's i' this Bonnet o' Mine&mdash;Come, Jamie, let's Undo Thi Shoon&mdash;While Takin' a Wift o' my Pipe&mdash;God Bless thi Silver Yure&mdash;Aw've Worn my Bits o' Shoon Away &mdash;Yesterneet&mdash;Owd Enoch&mdash;Chirrup &mdash;Tickle Times&mdash;Jamie's Frolic&mdash;Owd Pinder&mdash;Th' Goblin Parson&mdash;Margit's Coming&mdash;Eawr Folk&mdash;Th' Sweetheart Gate&mdash;Gentle Jone&mdash;Neet Fo'&mdash;Bonnie Nan&mdash;A Lift on th' Way&mdash;Tum Rindle&mdash;Buckle to.</pre>
+<pre>WAUGH'S. The Birtle Carter's Tale about Owd Bodle. 3d.
+WAUGH'S. The Goblin's Grave. 3d.
+WAUGH'S. Chapel Island: An Adventure on the Ulverstone Sands. 1d.
+WAUGH'S. Norbreck: A Sketch on the Lancashire Coast. 1d.
+WAUGH'S. Birth-Place of Tim Bobbin. 6d.
+WAUGH'S. Rambles in the Lake Country and its Borders. Cloth, neat. 2s. 6d.
+WAUGH'S. Sketches of Lancashire Life and Localities. 1s.
+WAUGH'S. Fourteen Days in Scotland. 1s.
+WAUGH'S. Wandering Minstrels; or, Wails of the Workless Poor. 1d.
+WAUGH'S. The Barrel Organ. With Illustrations. 3d.
+WAUGH'S. Tattlin Matty. 3d.
+WAUGH'S. The Dead Man's Dinner. 3d.
+WAUGH'S. Over Sands to the Lakes. 6d.
+WAUGH'S. Sea-Side Lakes and Mountains of Cumberland. 6d.
+WAUGH'S. Home-Life of the Lancashire Factory Folk during the Cotton Famine. 3s. 6d.
+WAUGH'S. Tufts of Heather from the Northern Moors. 5s.</pre>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1">{1}</a>&nbsp; These
+stanzas are extracted, by permission, from the second volume of &quot;Lancashire
+Lyrics,&quot; edited by John Harland, Esq., F.S.A. &quot;They were written
+by a lady in aid of the Relief Fund. They were printed on a card, and
+sold, principally at the railway stations. Their sale there, and elsewhere,
+is known to have realised the sum of &pound;160. Their authoress is
+the wife of Mr Serjeant Bellasis, and the only daughter of the late
+William Garnett, Esq. of Quernmore Park and Bleasdale, Lancashire.&quot;&mdash;<i>Notes
+in &quot;Lancashire Lyrics</i>.&quot;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2">{2}</a>&nbsp; From &quot;Lancashire
+Lyrics,&quot; edited by John Harland, Esq., F.S.A.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3">{3}</a>&nbsp; Dole;
+relief from charity.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4">{4}</a>&nbsp; &quot;During
+what has been well named 'The Cotton Famine,' amongst the imports of
+cotton from India, perhaps the worst was that denominated 'Surat,' from
+the city of that name in the province of Guzerat, a great cotton district.
+Short in staple, and often rotten, bad in quality, and dirty in condition,
+(the result too often of dishonest packers,) it was found to be exceedingly
+difficult to work up; and from its various defects, it involved considerable
+deductions, or 'batings,' for bad work, from the spinners' and weavers'
+wages. This naturally led to a general dislike of the Surat cotton,
+and to the application of the word 'Surat' to designate any inferior
+article. One action was tried at the assizes, the offence being the
+applying to the beverage of a particular brewer the term of 'Surat beer.'
+Besides the song given above, several others were written on the subject.
+One called 'Surat Warps,' and said to be the production of a Rossendale
+rhymester, (T. N., of Bacup,) appeared in <i>Notes and Queries</i> of
+June 3, 1865, (third series, vol. vii., p. 432,) and is there stated
+to be a great favourite amongst the old 'Deyghn Layrocks,' (<i>Anglice</i>,
+the 'Larks of Dean,' in the forest of Rossendale,) 'who sing it to one
+of the easy-going psalm-tunes with much gusto.' One verse runs thus:-</p>
+<p>&quot; 'I look at th' yealds, and there they stick;<br />I ne'er
+seen the like sin' I wur wick!<br />What pity could befall a heart,<br />To
+think about these hard-sized warps!'</p>
+<p>Another song, called 'The Surat Weyver,' was written by William Billington
+of Blackburn. It is in the form of a lament by a body of Lancashire
+weavers, who declare that they had</p>
+<p>&quot; 'Borne what mortal man could bear,<br />Affoore they'd weave
+Surat.'</p>
+<p>But they had been compelled to weave it, though</p>
+<p>&quot; 'Stransportashun's not as ill<br />As weyvin rotten Su'.'</p>
+<p>The song concludes with the emphatic execration,<br />&quot; 'To
+hell wi' o' Surat!'&quot;</p>
+<p><i>&mdash;Note in &quot;Lancashire Lyrics</i>,&quot; vol. ii., <i>edited
+by John Harland, Esq., F.S.A.</i></p>
+<p><a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5">{5}</a>&nbsp; These
+beautiful lines, by the veteran Samuel Bamford, of Harperhey, near Manchester,
+author of &quot;Passages in the Life of a Radical,&quot; &amp;c., are
+copied from the new and complete edition of his poems, entitled &quot;Homely
+Rhymes, Poems, and Reminiscences,&quot; published by Alexander Ireland
+&amp; Co., <i>Examiner</i> and <i>Times</i> Office, Pall Mall, Manchester.
+Price 3s. 6d., with a portrait of the author.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOME-LIFE OF THE LANCASHIRE FACTORY
+FOLK DURING THE COTTON FAMINE***</p>
+<pre>
+
+***** This file should be named 10126-h.htm or 10126-h.zip******
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diff --git a/10126.txt b/10126.txt
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+++ b/10126.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Home-Life of the Lancashire Factory Folk
+during the Cotton Famine, by Edwin Waugh
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Home-Life of the Lancashire Factory Folk during the Cotton Famine
+
+Author: Edwin Waugh
+
+Release Date: November 19, 2003 [eBook #10126]
+
+Language: English
+
+Chatacter set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOME-LIFE OF THE LANCASHIRE
+FACTORY FOLK DURING THE COTTON FAMINE***
+
+
+
+Many thanks to Peter Moulding who transcribed this eText.
+email: p e t e r @ m o u l d i n g n a m e . i n f o
+http://www.mouldingname.info/00.html
+
+
+
+
+HOME-LIFE
+
+OF THE
+
+LANCASHIRE FACTORY FOLK
+
+DURING THE COTTON FAMINE
+
+
+
+
+BY
+
+EDWIN WAUGH
+
+Author of "Lancashire Sketches", "Poems and Lancashire Songs",
+"Tufts of Heather from the Northern Moors", etc, etc.
+
+
+"Hopdance cries in poor Tom's belly for two white herrings.
+Croak not, black angel: I have no food for thee."
+--King Lear.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+Chap. Page
+I 1 Among the Blackburn Operatives
+II 13 " "
+III 23 Among the Preston Operatives
+IV 32 " "
+V 40 " "
+VI 48 " "
+VII 59 " "
+VIII 69 " "
+IX 79 " "
+X 87 " "
+XI 97 " "
+XII 107 " "
+XIII 115 " "
+XIV 123 " "
+XV 132 Among the Wigan Operatives
+XVI 139 " "
+XVII 147 " "
+XVIII 155 " "
+XIX 163 " "
+XX 171 " "
+XXI 179 " "
+XXII 189 An Incident by the Wayside
+XXIII 197 Wandering Minstrels; or, Wails of the Workless Poor
+
+LETTERS AND SPEECHES UPON THE COTTON FAMINE
+
+ 209 Letters of a Lancashire Lad
+ 217 Mr Cobden's Speech
+ 227 Speech of the Earl of Derby
+
+ 253 Songs of Distress chiefly written during the Cotton
+Famine
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+
+The following chapters are reprinted from the columns of the
+Manchester Examiner and Times, to which Paper they were contributed
+by the Author during the year 1862.
+
+
+
+HOME LIFE OF THE LANCASHIRE FACTORY FOLK DURING THE COTTON FAMINE.
+(Reprinted from the Manchester Examiner and Times of 1862)
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+
+AMONG THE BLACKBURN OPERATIVES
+"Poor Tom's a-cold. Who gives anything to poor Tom?"
+--King Lear.
+
+Blackburn is one of the towns which has suffered more than the rest
+in the present crisis, and yet a stranger to the place would not see
+anything in its outward appearance indicative of this adverse nip of
+the times. But to any one familiar with the town in its prosperity,
+the first glance shows that there is now something different on foot
+there, as it did to me on Friday last. The morning was wet and raw,
+a state of weather in which Blackburn does not wear an Arcadian
+aspect, when trade is good. Looking round from the front of the
+railway station, the first thing which struck me was the great
+number of tall chimneys which were smokeless, and the unusual
+clearness of the air. Compared with the appearance of the town when
+in full activity, there is now a look of doleful holiday, an
+unnatural fast-day quietness about everything. There were few carts
+astir, and not so many people in the streets as usual, although so
+many are out of work there. Several, in the garb of factory
+operatives, were leaning upon the bridge, and others were trailing
+along in twos and threes, looking listless and cold; but nobody
+seemed in a hurry. Very little of the old briskness was visible.
+When the mills are in full work, the streets are busy with heavy
+loads of twist and cloth; and the workpeople hurry in blithe crowds
+to and from the factories, full of life and glee, for factory labour
+is not so hurtful to healthy life as it was thirty years ago, nor as
+some people think it now, who don't know much about it. There were
+few people at the shop windows, and fewer inside. I went into some
+of the shops to buy trifling things of different kinds, making
+inquiries about the state of trade meanwhile, and, wherever I went,
+I met with the same gloomy answers. They were doing nothing, taking
+nothing; and they didn't know how things would end. They had the
+usual expenses going on, with increasing rates, and a fearfully
+lessened income, still growing less. And yet they durst not
+complain; but had to contribute towards the relief of their starving
+neighbours, sometimes even when they themselves ought to be
+receiving relief, if their true condition was known. I heard of
+several shopkeepers who had not taken more across their counters for
+weeks past than would pay their rents, and some were not doing even
+so much as that. This is one painful bit of the kernel of life in
+Blackburn just now, which is concealed by the quiet shell of outward
+appearance. Beyond this unusual quietness, a stranger will not see
+much of the pinch of the times, unless he goes deeper; for the
+people of Lancashire never were remarkable for hawking their
+troubles much about the world. In the present untoward pass, their
+deportment, as a whole, has been worthy of themselves, and their
+wants have been worthily met by their own neighbours. What it may
+become necessary to do hereafter, does not yet appear. It is a
+calamity arising, partly from a wise national forbearance, which
+will repay itself richly in the long run. But, apart from that wide-
+spread poverty which is already known and relieved, there is, in
+times like the present, always a certain small proportion, even of
+the poorest, who will "eat their cake to th' edge," and then starve
+bitterly before they will complain. These are the flower of our
+working population; they are of finer stuff than the common staple
+of human nature. Amongst such there must be many touching cases of
+distress which do not come to light, even by accident. If they did,
+nobody can doubt the existence of a generous will to relieve them
+generously. To meet such cases, it is pleasant to learn, however, as
+I did, that there is a large amount of private benevolence at work
+in Blackburn, industriously searching out the most deserving cases
+of distress. Of course, this kind of benevolence never gets into the
+statistics of relief, but it will not the less meet with its reward.
+I heard also of one or two wealthy men whose names do not appear as
+contributors to the public relief fund, who have preferred to spend
+considerable sums of money in this private way. In my wanderings
+about the town I heard also of several instances of poor people
+holding relief tickets, who, upon meeting with some temporary
+employment, have returned their tickets to the committee for the
+benefit of those less fortunate than themselves. Waiving for the
+present all mention of the opposite picture; these things are alike
+honourable to both rich and poor.
+
+A little past noon, on Friday, I set out to visit the great stone
+quarries on the southern edge of the town, where upwards of six
+hundred of the more robust factory operatives are employed in the
+lighter work of the quarries. This labour consists principally of
+breaking up the small stone found in the facings of the solid rock,
+for the purpose of road-mending and the like. Some, also, are
+employed in agricultural work, on the ground belonging to the fine
+new workhouse there. These factory operatives, at the workhouse
+grounds, and in the quarries, are paid one shilling a day--not much,
+but much better than the bread of idleness; and for the most part,
+the men like it better, I am told. The first quarry I walked into
+was the one known by the name of "Hacking's Shorrock Delph." There I
+sauntered about, looking at the scene. It was not difficult to
+distinguish the trained quarrymen from the rest. The latter did not
+seem to be working very hard at their new employment, and it can
+hardly be expected that they should, considering the great
+difference between it and their usual labour. Leaning on their
+spades and hammers, they watched me with a natural curiosity, as if
+wondering whether I was a new ganger, or a contractor come to buy
+stone. There were men of all ages amongst them, from about eighteen
+years old to white-headed men past sixty. Most of them looked
+healthy and a little embrowned by recent exposure to the weather;
+and here and there was a pinched face which told its own tale. I got
+into talk with a quiet, hardy-looking man, dressed in soil-stained
+corduroy. He was a kind of overlooker. He told me that there were
+from eighty to ninety factory hands employed in that quarry. "But,"
+said he, "it varies a bit, yo known. Some on 'em gets knocked up
+neaw an' then, an' they han to stop a-whoam a day or two; an' some
+on 'em connot ston gettin' weet through--it mays 'em ill; an' here
+an' theer one turns up at doesn't like the job at o'--they'd rayther
+clem. There is at's both willin' an' able; thoose are likely to get
+a better job, somewheer. There's othersome at's willin' enough, but
+connot ston th' racket. They dun middlin', tak 'em one wi' another,
+an' considerin' that they're noan use't to th' wark. Th' hommer fo's
+leet wi' 'em; but we dunnot like to push 'em so mich, yo known--for
+what's a shillin' a day? Aw know some odd uns i' this delph at never
+tastes fro mornin' till they'n done at neet,--an' says nought abeawt
+it, noather. But they'n families. Beside, fro wake lads, sick as
+yon, at's bin train't to nought but leet wark, an' a warm place to
+wortch in, what con yo expect? We'n had a deeal o' bother wi 'em
+abeawt bein' paid for weet days, when they couldn't wortch. They wur
+not paid for weet days at th' furst; an' they geet it into their
+yeds at Shorrock were to blame. Shorrock's th' paymaister, under th'
+Guardians, But, then, he nobbut went accordin' to orders, yo known.
+At last, th' Board sattle't that they mut be paid for weet and dry,-
+-an' there's bin quietness sin'. They wortchen fro eight till five;
+an', sometimes, when they'n done, they drilln o' together i'th road
+yon--just like sodiurs--an' then they walken away i' procession. But
+stop a bit;--just go in yon, an' aw'll come to yo in a two-thre
+minutes." He returned, accompanied by the paymaster, who offered to
+conduct me through the other delphs. Running over his pay-book, he
+showed me, by figures opposite each man's name, that, with not more
+than a dozen exceptions, they had all families of children, ranging
+in number from two to nine. He then pointed out the way over a
+knoll, to the next quarry, which is called "Hacking's Gillies'
+Delph," saying that he would follow me thither. I walked on,
+stopping for him on the nearest edge of the quarry, which commanded
+a full view of the men below. They seemed to be waiting very hard
+for something just then, and they stared at me, as the rest had
+done; but in a few minutes, just as I began to hear the paymaster's
+footsteps behind me, the man at the nearest end of the quarry called
+"Shorrock!" and a sudden activity woke up along the line. Shorrock
+then pointed to a corner of the delph where two of these poor
+fellows had been killed the week before, by stones thrown out from a
+fall of earth. We went down through the delph, and up the slope, by
+the place where the older men were at work in the poorhouse grounds.
+Crossing the Darwen road, we passed the other delphs, where the
+scene was much the same as in the rest, except that more men were
+employed there. As we went on, one poor fellow was trolling a snatch
+of song, as he hammered away at the stones. "Thir't merry, owd mon,"
+said I, in passing. "Well," replied he, "cryin' 'll do nought,
+wilt?" And then, as I walked away, he shouted after me, with a sort
+of sad smile, "It's a poor heart at never rejoices, maister."
+Leaving the quarries, we waited below, until the men had struck work
+for the day, and the whole six hundred came trooping down the road,
+looking hard at me as they went by, and stopping here and there, in
+whispering groups. The paymaster told me that one-half of the men's
+wages was paid to them in tickets for bread--in each case given to
+the shopkeeper to whom the receiver of the ticket owed most money--
+the other half was paid to them in money every Saturday. Before
+returning to town I learnt that twenty of the more robust men, who
+had worked well for their shilling a day in the quarries, had been
+picked out by order of the Board of Guardians, to be sent to the
+scene of the late disaster, in Lincolnshire, where employment had
+been obtained for them, at the rate of 3s. 4d. per day. They were to
+muster at six o'clock next morning to breakfast at the soup kitchen,
+after which they were to leave town by the seven o'clock train. I
+resolved to be up and see them off. On retiring to bed at the "Old
+Bull," a good-tempered fellow, known by the name of "Stockings,"
+from the fact of his being "under-boots," promised to waken me by
+six o'clock; and so I ended the day, after watching "Stockings"
+write "18" on the soles of my boots, with a lump of chalk.
+
+"Stockings" might as well have kept his bed on Saturday morning. My
+room was close to the ancient tower, left standing in the parish
+churchyard; and, at five o'clock, the beautiful bells of St Marie's
+struck up, filling my little chamber with that heart-stirring music,
+which, as somebody has well said, "sounds like a voice from the
+middle ages." I could not make out what all this early melody meant;
+for I had forgotten that it was the Queen's birthday. The old tower
+was in full view from my bed, and I lay there a while looking at it,
+and listening to the bells, and dreaming of Whalley Abbey, and of
+old features of life in picturesque Blackburnshire, now passed away.
+I felt no more inclination for sleep; and when the knock came to my
+door, I was dressed and ready. There were more people in the streets
+than I expected, and the bells were still ringing merrily. I found
+the soup kitchen a lively scene. The twenty men were busy at
+breakfast, and there was a crowd waiting outside to see them off.
+There were several members of the committee in the kitchen, and
+amongst them the Rev. Joseph V. Meaney, Catholic priest, went to and
+fro in cheerful chat. After breakfast, each man received four pounds
+of bread and one pound of cheese for the day's consumption. In
+addition to this, each man received one shilling; to which a certain
+active member of the committee added threepence in each case.
+Another member of the committee then handed a letter to each of the
+only three or four out of the twenty who were able to write,
+desiring each man to write back to the committee,--not all at once,
+but on different days, after their arrival. After this, he addressed
+them in the following words:--"Now, I hope that every man will
+conduct himself so as to be a credit to himself and an honour to
+Blackburn. This work may not prove to be such as you will like, and
+you must not expect it to be so. But, do your best; and, if you find
+that there is any chance of employment for more men of the same
+class as yourselves, you must write and let us know, so as to
+relieve the distress of others who are left behind you. There will
+be people waiting to meet you before you get to your journey's end;
+and, I have no doubt, you will meet with every fair encouragement.
+One-half of your wages will be paid over to each man there; the
+other half will be forwarded here, for the benefit of your families,
+as you all know. Now go, and do your duty to the best of your power,
+and you will never regret it. I wish you all success." At half-past
+six the men left the kitchen for the station. I lingered behind to
+get a basin of the soup, which I relished mightily. At the station I
+found a crowd of wives, children, and friends of those who were
+going away. Amongst the rest, Dr Rushton, the vicar of Blackburn,
+and his lady, had come to see them off. Here a sweet little young
+wife stood on the edge of the platform, with a pretty bareheaded
+child in her arms, crying as if her heart would break. Her husband
+now and then spoke a consoling word to her from the carriage window.
+They had been noticed sharing their breakfast together at the
+kitchen. A little farther on, a poor old Irishwoman was weeping
+bitterly. The Rev. Mr Meaney went up to her, and said, "Now, Mrs
+Davis, I thought you had more sense than to cry." "Oh," said a young
+Irishwoman, standing beside her, "sure, she's losin' her son from
+her." "Well," said the clergyman, cheeringly, "it's not your
+husband, woman." "Ah, thin," replied the young woman, "sure, it's
+all she has left of him." On the door of one compartment of the
+carriage there was the following written label:--"Fragile, with
+care." " How's this, Dennis?" said the Catholic priest to a young
+fellow nearest the door; "I suppose it's because you're all Irishmen
+inside there." In another compartment the lads kept popping their
+heads out, one after another, shouting farewells to their relatives
+and friends, after which they struck up, "There's a good time
+coming!" One wag of a fellow suddenly called out to his wife on the
+platform, "Aw say, Molly, just run for thoose tother breeches o'
+mine. They'n come in rarely for weet weather." One of his companions
+replied, "Thae knows hoo cannot get 'em, Jack. Th' pop-shops are
+noan oppen yet." One hearty cheer arose as the train started, after
+which the crowd dribbled away from the platform. I returned to the
+soup kitchen, where the wives, children, and mothers of the men who
+had gone were at breakfast in the inner compartment of the kitchen.
+On the outer side of the partition five or six pinched-looking men
+had straggled in to get their morning meal.
+
+When they had all done but one, who was left reared against the
+wooden partition finishing his soup, the last of those going away
+turned round and said, "Sam, theaw'rt noan as tickle abeawt thi mate
+as thae use't to be." "Naw," replied the other, "it'll not do to be
+nice these times, owd mon. But, thae use't to think thisel' aboon
+porritch, too, Jone. Aw'll shake honds wi' tho i' thae's a mind, owd
+dog." "Get forrud wi' that stuff, an' say nought," answered Jone. I
+left Sam at his soup, and went up into the town. In the course of
+the day I sat some hours in the Boardroom, listening to the relief
+cases; but of this, and other things, I will say more in my next.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+
+A little after ten o'clock on Saturday forenoon, I went into the
+Boardroom, in the hope of catching there some glimpses of the real
+state of the poor in Blackburn just now, and I was not disappointed;
+for amongst the short, sad complainings of those who may always be
+heard of in such a place, there was many a case presented itself
+which gave affecting proof of the pressure of the times. Although it
+is not here where one must look for the most enduring and
+unobtrusive of those who suffer; nor for the poor traders, who
+cannot afford to wear their distress upon their sleeves, so long as
+things will hold together with them at all; nor for that rare class
+which is now living upon the savings of past labour--yet, there were
+many persons, belonging to one or other of these classes, who
+applied for relief evidently because they had been driven
+unwillingly to this last bitter haven by a stress of weather which
+they could not bide any longer. There was a large attendance of the
+guardians; and they certainly evinced a strong wish to inquire
+carefully into each case, and to relieve every case of real need.
+The rate of relief given is this (as you will have seen stated by Mr
+Farnall elsewhere):--"To single able bodied men, 3s. for three days'
+work. To the man who had a wife and two children, 6s. for six days'
+work, and he would have 2s. 6d. added to the 6s., and perhaps a pair
+of clogs for one of his children. To a man who had a wife and four
+children, 10s. was paid for six days' labour, and in addition 4s.,
+and sometimes 4s. 6d., was given to him, and also bits of clothing
+and other things which he absolutely wanted." Sitting at that Board
+I saw some curious--some painful things. It was, as one of the Board
+said to me, "Hard work being there." In one case, a poor, pale,
+clean-looking, and almost speechless woman presented herself. Her
+thin and sunken eyes, as well as her known circumstances, explained
+her want sufficiently, and I heard one of the guardians whisper to
+another, "That's a bad case. If it wasn't for private charity they'd
+die of starvation." "Yes," replied another; "that woman's punished,
+I can see." Now and then a case came on in which the guardians were
+surprised to see a man ask for relief whom everybody had supposed to
+be in good circumstances. The first applicant, after I entered the
+room, was a man apparently under forty years of age, a beerhouse
+keeper, who had been comparatively well off until lately. The tide
+of trouble had whelmed him over. His children were all factory
+operatives, and all out of work; and his wife was ill. "What; are
+you here, John?" said the chairman to a decent-looking man who
+stepped up in answer to his name. The poor fellow blushed with
+evident pain, and faltered out his story in few and simple words, as
+if ashamed that anything on earth should have driven him at last to
+such an extremity as this. In another case, a clean old decrepid man
+presented himself. "What's brought you here, Joseph?" said the
+chairman. "Why; aw've nought to do,--nor nought to tak to." "What's
+your daughter, Ellen, doing, Joseph?" "Hoo's eawt o' wark." "And
+what's your wife doing?" "Hoo's bin bed-fast aboon five year." The
+old man was relieved at once; but, as he walked away, he looked hard
+at his ticket, as if it wasn't exactly the kind of thing; and,
+turning round, he said, "Couldn't yo let me be a sweeper i'th
+streets, istid, Mr Eccles?" A clean old woman came up, with a snow-
+white nightcap on her head. "Well, Mary; what do you want?" "Aw
+could like yo to gi mo a bit o' summat, Mr Eccles,--for aw need it"
+"Well, but you've some lodgers, haven't you, Mary?" "Yigh; aw've
+three." "Well; what do they pay you?" "They pay'n mo nought. They'n
+no wark,--an' one connot turn 'em eawt."
+
+This was all quite true. "Well, but you live with your son; don't
+you?" continued the chairman. "Nay," replied the old woman, "HE
+lives wi' ME; an' he's eawt o' wark, too. Aw could like yo to do a
+bit o' summat for us. We're hard put to 't." "Don't you think she
+would be better in the workhouse?" said one of the guardians. "Oh,
+no," replied another; "don't send th' owd woman there. Let her keep
+her own little place together, if she can." Another old woman
+presented herself, with a threadbare shawl drawn closely round her
+gray head. "Well, Ann," said the chairman, "there's nobody but
+yourself and your John, is there?" "Nawe." "What age are you?" "Aw'm
+seventy." "Seventy!" "Aye, I am." "Well, and what age is your John?"
+"He's gooin' i' seventy-four." "Where is he, Ann ?" "Well, aw laft
+him deawn i' th' street yon; gettin' a load o' coals in." There was
+a murmur of approbation around the Board; and the old woman was sent
+away relieved and thankful. There were many other affecting cases of
+genuine distress arising from the present temporary severity of the
+times. Several applicants were refused relief on its being proved
+that they were already in receipt of considerably more income than
+the usual amount allowed by the Board to those who have nothing to
+depend upon. Of course there are always some who, having lost that
+fine edge of feeling to which this kind of relief is revolting, are
+not unwilling to live idly upon the rates as much and as long as
+possible at any time, and who will even descend to pitiful schemes
+to wring from this source whatever miserable income they can get.
+There are some, even, with whom this state of mind seems almost
+hereditary; and these will not be slow to take advantage of the
+present state of affairs. Such cases, however, are not numerous
+among the people of Lancashire. It was a curious thing to see the
+different demeanours and appearances of the applicants--curious to
+hear the little stories of their different troubles. There were
+three or four women whose husbands were away in the militia; others
+whose husbands had wandered away in search of work weeks ago, and
+had never been heard of, since. There were a few very fine,
+intelligent countenances among them. There were many of all ages,
+clean in person, and bashful in manner, with their poor clothing put
+into the tidiest possible trim; others were dirty, and sluttish, and
+noisy of speech, as in the case of one woman, who, after receiving
+her ticket for relief, partly in money and partly in kind, whipped a
+pair of worn clogs from under her shawl, and cried out, "Aw mun ha'
+some clogs afore aw go, too; look at thoose! They're a shame to be
+sin!" Clogs were freely given; and, in several cases, they were all
+that were asked for. In three or four instances, the applicants
+said, after receiving other relief, "Aw wish yo'd gi' me a pair o'
+clogs, Mr Eccles. Aw've had to borrow these to come in." One woman
+pleaded hard for two pair, saying, "Yon chylt's bar-fuut; an' HE'S
+witchod (wet-shod), an' as ill as he con be." "Who's witchod?" asked
+the chairman. "My husban' is," replied the woman; "an' he connot
+ston it just neaw, yo mun let HIM have a pair iv yo con." "Give her
+two pairs of clogs," said the chairman. Another woman took her clog
+off, and held it up, saying,
+
+"Look at that. We're o' walkin' o'th floor; an' smoor't wi' cowds."
+One decent-looking old body, with a starved face, applied. The
+chairman said, "Why, what's your son doing now? Has he catched no
+rabbits lately?" "Nay, aw dunnot know 'at he does. Aw get nought;
+an' it's ME at wants summat, Mr Eccles," replied the old woman, in a
+tremulous tone, with the water rising in her eyes. "Well, come; we
+mustn't punish th' owd woman for her son," said one of the
+guardians. Various forms of the feebleness of age appeared before
+the Board that day. "What's your son John getting, Mary?" said the
+chairman to one old woman. "Whor?" replied she. "What's your son
+John getting?" The old woman put her hand up to her ear, and
+answered,
+
+"Aw'm rayther deaf. What say'n yo?" It turned out that her son was
+taken ill, and they were relieved. In the course of inquiries I
+found that the working people of Blackburn, as elsewhere in
+Lancashire, nickname their workshops as well as themselves. The
+chairman asked a girl where she worked at last, and the girl
+replied, "At th' 'Puff-an'-dart.'" "And what made you leave there?"
+"Whau, they were woven up." One poor, pale fellow, a widower, said
+he had "worched" a bit at "Bang-the-nation," till he was taken ill,
+and then they had "shopped his place," that is, they had given his
+work to somebody else. Another, when asked where he had been
+working, replied, "At Se'nacre Bruck (Seven-acre Brook), wheer th'
+wild monkey were catched." It seems that an ourang-outang which once
+escaped from some travelling menagerie, was re-taken at this place.
+I sat until the last application had been disposed of, which was
+about half-past two in the afternoon. The business had taken up
+nearly four hours and a half.
+
+I had a good deal of conversation with people who were intimately
+acquainted with the town and its people; and I was informed that, in
+spite of the struggle for existence which is now going on, and not
+unlikely to continue for some time, there are things happening
+amongst the working people there, which do not seem wise, under
+existing circumstances. The people are much better informed now than
+they were twenty years ago; but, still, something of the old
+blindness lingers amongst them, here and there. For instance, at one
+mill, in Blackburn, where the operatives were receiving 11s. a week
+for two looms, the proprietor offered to give his workpeople three
+looms each, with a guarantee for constant employment until the end
+of next August, if they would accept one and a quarter pence less
+for the weaving of each piece. This offer, if taken, would have
+raised their wages to an average of 14s. 6d. a week. It was
+declined, however, and they are now working, as before, only on two
+looms each, with uncertainty of employment, at lls. a week. Perhaps
+it is too much to expect that such things should die out all at
+once. But I heard also that the bricklayers' labourers at Blackburn
+struck work last week for an advance of wages from 3s. 6d. a day to
+4s. a day. This seems very untimely, to say the least of it. Apart
+from these things, there is, amongst all classes, a kind of cheery
+faith in the return of good times, although nobody can see what they
+may have to go through yet, before the clouds break. It is a fact
+that there are more than forty new places ready, or nearly ready,
+for starting, in and about Blackburn, when trade revives.
+
+After dinner, I walked down Darwen Street. Stopping to look at a
+music-seller's window, a rough-looking fellow, bareheaded and
+without coat, came sauntering across the road from a shop opposite.
+As he came near he shouted out, "Nea then Heaw go!" I turned round;
+and, seeing that I was a stranger, he said, "Oh; aw thought it had
+bin another chap." "Well," said I, "heaw are yo gettin' on, these
+times?" "Divulish ill," replied he. "Th' little maisters are runnin'
+a bit, some three, some four days. T'other are stopt o' together,
+welly. . . . It's thin pikein' for poor folk just neaw. But th'
+shopkeepers an' th' ale-heawses are in for it as ill as ony mak.
+There'll be crashin' amung some on 'em afore lung." After this, I
+spent a few minutes in the market-place, which was "slacker" than
+usual, as might be expected, for, as the Scotch proverb says,
+"Sillerless folk gang fast through the market." Later on, I went up
+to Bank Top, on the eastern edge of the town, where many factory
+operatives reside. Of course, there is not any special quarter where
+they are clustered in such a manner as to show their condition as a
+whole. They are scattered all round the town, living as near as
+possible to the mills in which they are employed. Here I talked with
+some of the small shopkeepers, and found them all more or less
+troubled with the same complaint. One owner of a provision shop said
+to me, "Wi'n a deeal o' brass owin'; but it's mostly owin' by folk
+at'll pay sometime. An' then, th' part on 'em are doin' a bit yo
+known; an' they bring'n their trifle o' ready brass to us; an' so
+we're trailin' on. But folk han to trust us a bit for their stuff,
+dunnot yo see,--or else it would be 'Wo-up!' soon." I heard of one
+beerhouse, the owner of which had only drawn ls. 6d. during a whole
+week. His children were all factory operatives, and all out of work.
+They were very badly off, and would have been very glad of a few
+soup tickets; but, as the man said, "Who'd believe me if aw were to
+go an' ax for relief?" I was told of two young fellows, unemployed
+factory hands, meeting one day, when one said to the other, "Thae
+favvurs hungry, Jone." "Nay, aw's do yet, for that," replied Jone.
+"Well," continued the other; "keep thi heart eawt of thi clogs, iv
+thi breeches dun eawt-thrive thi carcass a bit, owd lad." "Aye,"
+said Jone, "but what mun I do when my clogs gi'n way?" "Whaw, thae
+mun go to th' Guardians; they'n gi tho a pair in a minute." "Nay, by
+__," replied Jone, "aw'll dee furst!"
+
+In the evening, I ran down to the beautiful suburb called
+Pleasington, in the hope of meeting a friend of mine there; not
+finding him, I came away by the eight o'clock train. The evening was
+splendid, and it was cheering to see the old bounty of nature
+gushing forth again in such unusual profusion and beauty, as if in
+pitiful charity for the troubles of mankind. I never saw the country
+look so rich in its spring robes as it does now.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+
+AMONG THE PRESTON OPERATIVES.
+
+
+
+Proud Preston, or Priest-town, on the banks of the beautiful Ribble,
+is a place of many quaint customs, and of great historic fame. Its
+character for pride is said to come from the fact of its having
+been, in the old time, a favourite residence of the local nobles and
+gentry, and of many penniless folk with long pedigrees. It was here
+that Richard Arkwright shaved chins at a halfpenny each, in the
+meantime working out his bold and ingenious schemes, with patient
+faith in their ultimate success. It was here, too, that the teetotal
+movement first began, with Anderson for its rhyme-smith. Preston has
+had its full share of the changeful fortunes of England, and, like
+our motherland, it has risen strongly out of them all. War's mad
+havoc has swept over it in many a troubled period of our history.
+Plague, pestilence, and famine have afflicted it sorely; and it has
+suffered from trade riots, "plug-drawings," panics, and strikes of
+most disastrous kinds. Proud Preston--the town of the Stanleys and
+the Hoghtons, and of "many a crest that is famous in story"--the
+town where silly King Jamie disported himself a little, with his
+knights and nobles, during the time of his ruinous visit to Hoghton
+Tower,--Proud Preston has seen many a black day. But, from the time
+when Roman sentinels kept watch and ward in their old camp at
+Walton, down by the Ribble side, it has never seen so much wealth
+and so much bitter poverty together as now. The streets do not show
+this poverty; but it is there. Looking from Avenham Walks, that
+glorious landscape smiles in all the splendour of a rich spring-
+tide. In those walks the nursemaids and children, and dainty folk,
+are wandering as usual airing their curls in the fresh breeze; and
+only now and then a workless operative trails by with chastened
+look. The wail of sorrow is not heard in Preston market-place; but
+destitution may be found almost anywhere there just now, cowering in
+squalid corners, within a few yards of plenty--as I have seen it
+many a time this week. The courts and alleys behind even some of the
+main streets swarm with people who have hardly a whole nail left to
+scratch themselves with.
+
+Before attempting to tell something of what I saw whilst wandering
+amongst the poor operatives of Preston, I will say at once, that I
+do not intend to meddle with statistics. They have been carefully
+gathered, and often given elsewhere, and there is no need for me to
+repeat them. But, apart from these, the theme is endless, and full
+of painful interest. I hear on all hands that there is hardly any
+town in Lancashire suffering so much as Preston. The reason why the
+stroke has fallen so heavily here, lies in the nature of the trade.
+In the first place, Preston is almost purely a cotton town. There
+are two or three flax mills, and two or three ironworks, of no great
+extent; but, upon the whole, there is hardly any variety of
+employment there to lighten the disaster which has befallen its one
+absorbing occupation. There is comparatively little weaving in
+Preston; it is a town mostly engaged in spinning. The cotton used
+there is nearly all what is called "Middling American," the very
+kind which is now most scarce and dear. The yarns of Preston are
+known by the name of "Blackburn Counts." They range from 28's up to
+60's, and they enter largely into the manufacture of goods for the
+India market. These things partly explain why Preston is more deeply
+overshadowed by the particular gloom of the times than many other
+places in Lancashire. About half-past nine on Tuesday morning last,
+I set out with an old acquaintance to call upon a certain member of
+the Relief Committee, in George's Ward. He is the manager of a
+cotton mill in that quarter, and he is well known and much respected
+among the working people. When we entered the mill-yard, all was
+quiet there, and the factory was still and silent. But through the
+office window we could see the man we wanted. He was accompanied by
+one of the proprietors of the mill, turning over the relief books of
+the ward. I soon found that he had a strong sense of humour, as well
+as a heart welling over with tenderness. He pointed to some of the
+cases in his books. The first was that of an old man, an overlooker
+of a cotton mill. His family was thirteen in number; three of the
+children were under ten years of age; seven of the rest were factory
+operatives; but the whole family had been out of work for several
+months. When in full employment the joint earnings of the family
+amounted to 80s. a week; but, after struggling on in the hope of
+better times, and exhausting the savings of past labour, they had
+been brought down to the receipt of charity at last, and for sixteen
+weeks gone by the whole thirteen had been living upon 6s. a week
+from the relief fund. They had no other resource. I went to see them
+at their own house afterwards, and it certainly was a pattern of
+cleanliness, with the little household gods there still. Seeing that
+house, a stranger would never dream that the family was living on an
+average income of less than sixpence a head per week. But I know how
+hard some decent folk will struggle with the bitterest poverty
+before they will give in to it. The old man came in whilst I was
+there. He sat down in one corner, quietly tinkering away at
+something he had in his hands. His old corduroy trousers were well
+patched, and just new washed. He had very little to say to us,
+except that "He could like to get summat to do; for he wur tired o'
+walkin' abeawt." Another case was that of a poor widow woman, with
+five young children. This family had been driven from house to
+house, by increasing necessity, till they had sunk at last into a
+dingy little hovel, up a dark court, in one of the poorest parts of
+the town, where they huddled together about a fireless grate to keep
+one another warm. They had nothing left of the wreck of their home
+but two rickety chairs, and a little deal table reared against the
+wall, because one of the legs was gone. In this miserable hole--
+which I saw afterwards--her husband died of sheer starvation, as was
+declared by the jury on the inquest. The dark, damp hovel where they
+had crept to was scarcely four yards square; and the poor woman
+pointed to one corner of the floor, saying, "He dee'd i' that nook."
+He died there, with nothing to lie upon but the ground, and nothing
+to cover him, in that fireless hovel. His wife and children crept
+about him, there, to watch him die; and to keep him as warm as they
+could. When the relief committee first found this family out, the
+entire clothing of the family of seven persons weighed eight pounds,
+and sold for fivepence, as rags. I saw the family afterwards, at
+their poor place; and will say more about them hereafter. He told me
+of many other cases of a similar kind. But, after agreeing to a time
+when we should visit them personally, we set out together to see the
+"Stone Yard," where there are many factory hands at work under the
+Board of Guardians.
+
+The "Stone Yard" is close by the Preston and Lancaster Canal. Here
+there are from one hundred and seventy to one hundred and eighty,
+principally young men, employed in breaking, weighing, and wheeling
+stone, for road mending. The stones are of a hard kind of blue
+boulder, gathered from the land between Kendal and Lancaster. The
+"Labour Master" told me that there were thousands of tons of these
+boulders upon the land between Kendal and Lancaster. A great deal of
+them are brought from a place called "Tewhitt Field," about seven
+mile on "t' other side o' Lancaster." At the "Stone Yard" it is all
+piece-work, and the men can come and go when they like. As one of
+the Guardians told me, "They can oather sit an' break 'em, or kneel
+an' break 'em, or lie deawn to it, iv they'n a mind." The men can
+choose whether they will fill three tons of the broken stone, and
+wheel it to the central heap, for a shilling, or break one ton for a
+shilling. The persons employed here are mostly "lads an' leet-
+timber't chaps." The stronger men are sent to work upon Preston
+Moor. There are great varieties of health and strength amongst them.
+"Beside," as the Labour Master said, "yo'd hardly believe what a
+difference there it i'th wark o' two men wortchin' at the same heap,
+sometimes. There's a great deal i'th breaker, neaw; some on 'em's
+more artful nor others. They finden out that they can break 'em as
+fast again at after they'n getten to th' wick i'th inside. I have
+known an' odd un or two, here, that could break four ton a day,--an'
+many that couldn't break one,--but then, yo' know, th' men can only
+do accordin' to their ability. There is these differences, and there
+always will be." As we stood talking together, one of my friends
+said that he wished "Radical Jack" had been there. The latter
+gentleman is one of the guardians of the poor, and superintendent of
+the "Stone Yard." The men are naturally jealous of
+misrepresentation; and, the other day, as "Radical Jack" was
+describing the working of the yard to a gentleman who had come to
+look at the scene, some of the men overheard his words, and,
+misconceiving their meaning, gathered around the superintendent,
+clamorously protesting against what he had been saying. "He's
+lying!" said one. "Look at these honds!" cried another; "Wi'n they
+ever be fit to go to th' factory wi' again?"
+
+Others turned up the soles of their battered shoon, to show their
+cut and stockingless feet. They were pacified at last; but, after
+the superintendent had gone away, some of the men said much and
+more, and "if ever he towd ony moor lies abeawt 'em, they'd fling
+him into th' cut." The "Labour Master" told me there was a large
+wood shed for the men to shelter in when rain came on. As we were
+conversing, one of my friends exclaimed, "He's here now!" "Who's
+here?" "Radical Jack." The superintendent was coming down the road.
+He told me some interesting things, which I will return to on
+another occasion. But our time was up. We had other places to see.
+As we came away, three old Irishwomen leaned against the wall at the
+corner of the yard, watching the men at work inside. One of them was
+saying, "Thim guardians is the awfullest set o' min in the world! A
+man had better be transpoorted than come under 'em. An' thin,
+they'll try you, an' try you, as if you was goin' to be hanged." The
+poor old soul had evidently only a narrow view of the necessities
+and difficulties which beset the labours of the Board of Guardians
+at a time like this. On our way back to town one of my friends told
+me that he "had met a sexton the day before, and had asked him how
+trade was with him. The sexton replied that it was "Varra bad--nowt
+doin', hardly." "Well, how's that?" asked the other. "Well, thae
+sees," answered the sexton, "Poverty seldom dees. There's far more
+kilt wi' o'er-heytin' an' o'er-drinkin' nor there is wi' bein'
+pinched."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+
+Leaving the "Stone Yard," to fulfil an engagement in another part of
+the town, we agreed to call upon three or four poor folk, who lived
+by the way; and I don't know that I could do better than say
+something about what I saw of them. As we walked along, one of my
+companions told me of an incident which happened to one of the
+visitors in another ward, a few days before. In the course of his
+round, this visitor called upon a certain destitute family which was
+under his care, and he found the husband sitting alone in the house,
+pale and silent. His wife had been "brought to bed" two or three
+days before; and the visitor inquired how she was getting on. "Hoo's
+very ill," said the husband. "And the child," continued the visitor,
+"how is it?" "It's deeod," replied the man; "it dee'd yesterday." He
+then rose, and walked slowly into the next room, returning with a
+basket in his hands, in which the dead child was decently laid out.
+
+"That's o' that's laft on it neaw," said the poor fellow. Then,
+putting the basket upon the floor, he sat down in front of it, with
+his head between his hands, looking silently at the corpse. Such
+things as these were the theme of our conversation as we went along,
+and I found afterwards that every visitor whom it was my privilege
+to meet, had some special story of distress to relate, which came
+within his own appointed range of action. In my first flying visit
+to that great melancholy field, I could only glean such things as
+lay nearest to my hand, just then; but wherever I went, I heard and
+saw things which touchingly testify what noble stuff the working
+population of Lancashire, as a whole, is made of. One of the first
+cases we called upon, after leaving the "Stone Yard," was that of a
+family of ten--man and wife, and eight children. Four of the
+children were under ten years of age,--five were capable of working;
+and, when the working part of the family was in full employment,
+their joint earnings amounted to 61s. per week. But, in this case,
+the mother's habitual ill-health had been a great expense in the
+household for several years. This family belonged to a class of
+operatives--a much larger class than people unacquainted with the
+factory districts are likely to suppose--a class of operatives which
+will struggle, in a dumb, enduring way, to the death, sometimes,
+before they will sacrifice that "immediate jewel of their souls"--
+their old independence, and will keep up a decent appearance to the
+very last. These suffer more than the rest; for, in addition to the
+pains of bitter starvation, they feel a loss which is more
+afflicting to them even than the loss of food and furniture ; and
+their sufferings are less heard of than the rest, because they do
+not like to complain. This family of ten persons had been living,
+during the last nine weeks, upon relief amounting to 5s. a week.
+When we called, the mother and one or two of her daughters were busy
+in the next room, washing their poor bits of well-kept clothing. The
+daughters kept out of sight, as if ashamed. It was a good kind of
+cottage, in a clean street, called "Maudland Bank," and the whole
+place had a tidy, sweet look, though it was washing-day. The mother
+told me that she had been severely afflicted with seven successive
+attacks of inflammation, and yet, in spite of her long-continued
+ill-health, and in spite of the iron teeth of poverty which had been
+gnawing at them so long, for the first time, I have rarely seen a
+more frank and cheerful countenance than that thin matron's, as she
+stood there, wringing her clothes, and telling her little story. The
+house they lived in belonged to their late employer, whose mill
+stopped some time ago. We asked her how they managed to pay the
+rent, and she said, "Why, we dunnot pay it; we cannot pay it, an' he
+doesn't push us for it. Aw guess he knows he'll get it sometime. But
+we owe'd a deal o' brass beside that. Just look at this shop book.
+Aw'm noan freetend ov onybody seein' my acceawnts. An' then, there's
+a great lot o' doctor's-bills i' that pot, theer. Thoose are o' for
+me. There'll ha' to be some wark done afore things can be fotched up
+again. . . . Eh; aw'll tell yo what, William, (this was addressed to
+the visitor,) it went ill again th' grain wi' my husband to goo
+afore th' Board. An' when he did goo, he wouldn't say so mich. Yo
+known, folk doesn't like brastin' off abeawt theirsel' o' at once,
+at a shop like that. . . . Aw think sometimes it's very weel that
+four ov eawrs are i' heaven,--we'n sich hard tewin' (toiling), to
+poo through wi' tother, just neaw. But, aw guess it'll not last for
+ever." As we came away, talking of the reluctance shown by the
+better sort of working people to ask for relief, or even sometimes
+to accept it when offered to them, until thoroughly starved to it, I
+was told of a visitor calling upon a poor woman in another ward; no
+application had been made for relief, but some kind neighbour had
+told the committee that the woman and her husband were "ill off."
+The visitor, finding that they were perishing for want, offered the
+woman some relief tickets for food; but the poor soul began to cry,
+and said; "Eh, aw dar not touch 'em; my husban' would sauce me so!
+Aw dar not take 'em; aw should never yer the last on't!" When we got
+to the lower end of Hope Street, my guide stopped suddenly, and
+said, "Oh, this is close to where that woman lives whose husband
+died of starvation. "Leading a few yards up the by-street, he turned
+into a low, narrow entry, very dark and damp. Two turns more brought
+us to a dirty, pent-up corner, where a low door stood open. We
+entered there. It was a cold, gloomy-looking little hovel. In my
+allusion to the place last week I said it was "scarcely four yards
+square." It is not more than three yards square. There was no fire
+in the little rusty grate. The day was sunny, but no sunshine could
+ever reach that nook, nor any fresh breezes disturb the pestilent
+vapours that harboured there, festering in the sluggish gloom. In
+one corner of the place a little worn and broken stair led up to a
+room of the same size above, where, I was told, there was now some
+straw for the family to sleep upon. But the only furniture in the
+house, of any kind, was two rickety chairs and a little broken deal
+table, reared against the stairs, because one leg was gone. A quiet-
+looking, thin woman, seemingly about fifty years of age, sat there,
+when we went in. She told us that she had buried five of her
+children, and that she had six yet alive, all living with her in
+that poor place. They had no work, no income whatever, save what
+came from the Relief Committee. Five of the children were playing in
+and out, bare-footed, and, like the mother, miserably clad; but they
+seemed quite unconscious that anything ailed them. I never saw finer
+children anywhere. The eldest girl, about fourteen, came in whilst
+we were there, and she leaned herself bashfully against the wall for
+a minute or two, and then slunk slyly out again, as if ashamed of
+our presence. The poor widow pointed to the cold corner where her
+husband died lately. She said that "his name was Tim Pedder. His
+fadder name was Timothy, an' his mudder name was Mary. He was a
+driver (a driver of boat-horses on the canal); but he had bin oot o'
+wark a lang time afore he dee'd." I found in this case, as in some
+others, that the poor body had not much to say about her distress;
+but she did not need to say much. My guide told me that when he
+first called upon the family, in the depth of last winter, he found
+the children all clinging round about their mother in the cold
+hovel, trying in that way to keep one another warm. The time for my
+next appointment was now hard on, and we hurried towards the shop in
+Fishergate, kept by the gentleman I had promised to meet. He is an
+active member of the Relief Committee, and a visitor in George's
+ward. We found him in. He had just returned from the "Cheese Fair,"
+at Lancaster. My purpose was to find out what time on the morrow we
+could go together to see some of the cases he was best acquainted
+with. But, as the evening was not far spent, he proposed that we
+should go at once to see a few of those which were nearest. We set
+out together to Walker's Court, in Friargate. The first place we
+entered was at the top of the little narrow court. There we found a
+good-tempered Irish-woman sitting without fire, in her feverish
+hovel. "Well, missis," said the visitor, "how is your husband
+getting on?" "Ah, well, now, Mr. T----," replied she, "you know,
+he's only a delicate little man, an' a tailor; an' he wint to work
+on the moor, an' he couldn't stand it. Sure, it was draggin' the
+bare life out of him. So, he says to me, one morning, "Catharine,"
+says he, "I'll lave off this a little while, till I see will I be
+able to get a job o' work at my own trade; an' maybe God will rise
+up some thin' to put a dud o' clothes on us all, an' help us to pull
+through till the black time is over us." So, I told him to try his
+luck, any way; for he was killin' himself entirely on the moor. An'
+so he did try; for there's not an idle bone in that same boy's skin.
+But, see this, now; there's nothin' in the world to be had to do
+just now--an' a dale too many waitin' to do it--so all he got by the
+change was losin' his work on the moor. There is himself, an' me,
+an' the seven childer. Five o' the childer is under tin year old. We
+are all naked; an' the house is bare; an' our health is gone wi' the
+want o' mate. Sure it wasn't in the likes o' this we wor livin' when
+times was good." Three of the youngest children were playing about
+on the floor. "That's a very fine lad," said I, pointing to one of
+them. The little fellow blushed, and smiled, and then became very
+still and attentive. "Ah, thin," said his mother, "that villain's
+the boy for tuckin' up soup! The Lord be about him, an' save him
+alive to me,--the crayter ! . . . An' there's little curly there,--
+the rogue! Sure he'll take as much soup as any wan o' them. Maybe he
+wouldn't laugh to see a big bowl forninst him this day." "It's very
+well they have such good spirits," said the visitor. "So it is,"
+replies the woman, "so it is, for God knows it's little else they
+have to keep them warm thim bad times."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+
+The next house we called at in Walker's Court was much like the
+first in appearance--very little left but the walls, and that
+little, such as none but the neediest would pick up, if it was
+thrown out to the streets. The only person in the place was a pale,
+crippled woman; her sick head, lapped in a poor white clout, swayed
+languidly to and fro. Besides being a cripple, she had been ill six
+years, and now her husband, also, was taken ill. He had just crept
+off to fetch medicine for the two. We did not stop here long. The
+hand of the Ancient Master was visible in that pallid face; those
+sunken eyes, so full of deathly langour, seemed to be wandering
+about in dim, flickering gazes, upon the confines of an unknown
+world. I think that woman will soon be "where the weary are at
+rest." As we came out, she said, slowly, and in broken, painful
+utterances, that "she hoped the Lord would open the heavens for
+those who had helped them." A little lower down the court, we peeped
+in at two other doorways. The people were well known to my
+companion, who has the charge of visiting this part of the ward.
+Leaning against the door-cheek of one of these dim, unwholesome
+hovels, he said, "Well, missis; how are you getting on?" There was a
+tall, thin woman inside. She seemed to be far gone in some
+exhausting illness. With slow difficulty she rose to her feet, and,
+setting her hands to her sides, gasped out, "My coals are done." He
+made a note, and said, I'll send you some more." Her other wants
+were regularly seen to on a certain day every week. Ours was an
+accidental visit. We now turned up to another nook of the court,
+where my companion told me there was a very bad case. He found the
+door fast. We looked through the window into that miserable man-
+nest. It was cold, gloomy, and bare. As Corrigan says, in the
+"Colleen Bawn," "There was nobody in--but the fire--and that was
+gone out." As we came away, a stalwart Irishman met us at a turn of
+the court, and said to my companion, "Sure, ye didn't visit this
+house." " Not to-day;" replied the visitor. "I'll come and see you
+at the usual time." The people in this house were not so badly off
+as some others. We came down the steps of the court into the fresher
+air of Friargate again.
+
+Our next walk was to Heatley Street. As we passed by a cluster of
+starved loungers, we overheard one of them saying to another,
+"Sitho, yon's th' soup-maister, gooin' a-seein' somebry." Our time
+was getting short, so we only called at one house in Heatley Street,
+where there was a family of eleven--a decent family, a well-kept and
+orderly household, though now stript almost to the bare ground of
+all worldly possession, sold, bitterly, piecemeal, to help to keep
+the bare life together, as sweetly as possible, till better days.
+The eldest son is twenty-seven years of age. The whole family has
+been out of work for the last seventeen weeks, and before that, they
+had been working only short time for seven months. For thirteen
+weeks they had lived upon less than one shilling a head per week,
+and I am not sure that they did not pay the rent out of that; and
+now the income of the whole eleven is under 16s., with rent to pay.
+In this house they hold weekly prayer-meetings. Thin picking--one
+shilling a week, or less--for all expenses, for one person. It is
+easier to write about it than to feel what it means, unless one has
+tried it for three or four months. Just round the corner from
+Heatley Street, we stopped at the open door of a very little
+cottage. A good-looking young Irishwoman sat there, upon a three-
+legged stool, suckling her child. She was clean; and had an
+intelligent look. "Let's see, missis," said the visitor, "what do
+you pay for this nook?" "We pay eighteenpence a week--and they WILL
+have it--my word." "Well, an' what income have you now?" "We have
+eighteenpence a head in the week, an' the rent to pay out o' that,
+or else they'll turn us out." Of course, the visitor knew that this
+was true; but he wanted me to hear the people speak for themselves.
+"Let's see, Missis Burns, your husband's name is Patrick, isn't it?"
+" Yes, sir; Patrick Burns." "What! Patrick Burns, the famous foot-
+racer?" The little woman smiled bashfully, and replied, "Yes, sir; I
+suppose it is." With respect to what the woman said about having to
+pay her rent or turn out, I may remark, in passing, that I have not
+hitherto met with an instance in which any millowner, or wealthy
+man, having cottage property, has pressed the unemployed poor for
+rent. But it is well to remember that there is a great amount of
+cottage property in Preston, as in other manufacturing towns, which
+belongs to the more provident class of working men. These working
+men, now hard pressed by the general distress, have been compelled
+to fall back upon their little rentals, clinging to them as their
+last independent means of existence. They are compelled to this,
+for, if they cannot get work, they cannot get anything else, having
+property. These are becoming fewer, however, from day to day. The
+poorest are hanging a good deal upon those a little less poor than
+themselves; and every link in the lengthening chain of neediness is
+helping to pull down the one immediately above it. There is, also, a
+considerable amount of cottage property in Preston, belonging to
+building societies, which have enough to do to hold their own just
+now. And then there is always some cottage property in the hands of
+agents.
+
+Leaving Heatley Street, we went to a place called "Seed's Yard."
+Here we called upon a clean old stately widow, with a calm, sad
+face. She had been long known, and highly respected, in a good
+street, not far off, where she had lived for twenty-four years, in
+fair circumstances, until lately. She had always owned a good
+houseful of furniture; but, after making bitter meals upon the
+gradual wreck of it, she had been compelled to break up that house,
+and retire with her five children to lodge with a lone widow in this
+little cot, not over three yards square, in "Seed's Yard," one of
+those dark corners into which decent poverty is so often found now,
+creeping unwillingly away from the public eye, in the hope of
+weathering the storm of adversity, in penurious independence. The
+old woman never would accept relief from the parish, although the
+whole family had been out of work for many months. One of the
+daughters, a clean, intelligent-looking young woman, about eighteen,
+sat at the table, eating a little bread and treacle to a cup of
+light-coloured tea, when we went in; but she blushed, and left off
+until we had gone--which was not long after. It felt almost like
+sacrilege to peer thus into the privacies of such people; but I hope
+they did not feel as if it had been done offensively. We called next
+at the cottage of a hand-loom weaver--a poor trade now in the best
+of times--a very poor trade--since the days when tattered old "Jem
+Ceawp" sung his pathetic song of "Jone o' Greenfeelt"--
+
+"Aw'm a poor cotton weighver, as ony one knows;
+We'n no meight i'th heawse, an' we'n worn eawt er clothes;
+We'n live't upo nettles, while nettles were good;
+An' Wayterloo porritch is th' most of er food;
+This clemmin' and starvin',
+Wi' never a farthin'--
+It's enough to drive ony mon mad."
+
+This family was four in number--man, wife, and two children. They
+had always lived near to the ground, for the husband's earnings at
+the loom were seldom more than 7s. for a full week. The wife told us
+that they were not receiving any relief, for she said that when her
+husband "had bin eawt o' wark a good while he turn't his hond to
+shaving;" and in this way the ingenious struggling fellow had
+scraped a thin living for them during many months. "But," said she,
+" it brings varra little in, we hev to trust so much. He shaves four
+on 'em for a haw-penny, an' there's a deal on 'em connot pay that.
+Yo know, they're badly off--(the woman seemed to think her
+circumstances rather above the common kind); an' then," continued
+she, "when they'n run up a shot for three-hawpence or twopence or
+so, they cannot pay it o' no shap, an' so they stoppen away fro th'
+shop. They cannot for shame come, that's heaw it is; so we lose'n
+their custom till sich times as summat turns up at they can raise a
+trifle to pay up wi'. . . . He has nobbut one razzor, but it'll be
+like to do." Hearken this, oh, ye spruce Figaros of the city, who
+trim the clean, crisp whiskers of the well-to-do! Hearken this, ye
+dainty perruquiers, "who look so brisk, and smell so sweet," and
+have such an exquisite knack of chirruping, and lisping, and sliding
+over the smooth edge of the under lip,--and, sometimes, agreeably
+too,--"an infinite deal of nothing,"--ye who clip and anoint the
+hair of Old England's curled darlings! Eight chins a penny; and
+three months' credit! A bodle a piece for mowing chins overgrown
+with hair like pin-wire, and thick with dust; how would you like
+that? How would you get through it all, with a family of four, and
+only one razor? The next place we called at was what my friend
+described, in words that sounded to me, somehow, like melancholy
+irony,--as "a poor provision shop." It was, indeed, a poor shop for
+provender. In the window, it is true, there were four or five empty
+glasses, where children's spice had once been. There was a little
+deal shelf here and there; but there were neither sand, salt,
+whitening, nor pipes. There was not the ghost of a farthing candle,
+nor a herring, nor a marble, nor a match, nor of any other thing,
+sour or sweet, eatable or saleable for other uses, except one small
+mug full of buttermilk up in a corner--the last relic of a departed
+trade, like the "one rose of the wilderness, left on its stalk to
+mark where a garden has been." But I will say more about this in the
+next chapter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+
+Returning to the little shop mentioned in my last--the "little
+provision shop," where there was nothing left to eat--nothing,
+indeed, of any kind, except one mug of buttermilk, and a miserable
+remnant of little empty things, which nobody would buy; four or five
+glass bottles in the window, two or three poor deal shelves, and a
+doleful little counter, rudely put together, and looking as if it
+felt, now, that there was nothing in the world left for it but to
+become chips at no distant date. Everything in the place had a sad,
+subdued look, and seemed conscious of having come down in the world,
+without hope of ever rising again; even the stript walls appeared to
+look at one another with a stony gaze of settled despair. But there
+was a clean, matronly woman in the place, gliding about from side to
+side with a cloth in her hands, and wiping first one, then another,
+of these poor little relics of better days in a caressing way. The
+shop had been her special care when times were good, and she clung
+affectionately to its ruins still. Besides, going about cleaning and
+arranging the little empty things in this way looked almost like
+doing business. But, nevertheless, the woman had a cheerful, good-
+humoured countenance. The sunshine of hope was still warm in her
+heart; though there was a touch of pathos in the way she gave the
+little rough counter another kindly wipe now and then, as if she
+wished to keep its spirits up; and in the way she looked, now at the
+buttermilk mug, then at the open door, and then at the four glass
+bottles in the window, which had been gazed at so oft and so eagerly
+by little children outside, in the days when spice was in them. . .
+. The husband came in from the little back room. He was a hardy,
+frank-looking man, and, like his wife, a trifle past middle age, I
+thought; but he had nothing to say, as he stood there with his wife,
+by the counter side. She answered our questions freely and simply,
+and in an uncomplaining way, not making any attempt to awaken
+sympathy by enlarging upon the facts of their condition. Theirs was
+a family of seven--man, wife, and five children. The man was a
+spinner; and his thrifty wife had managed the little shop, whilst he
+worked at the mill. There are many striving people among the factory
+operatives, who help up the family earnings by keeping a little shop
+in this way. But this family was another of those instances in which
+working people have been pulled down by misfortune before the
+present crisis came on. Just previous to the mills beginning to work
+short time, four of their five children had been lying ill, all at
+once, for five months; and, before that trouble befell them, one of
+the lads had two of his fingers taken off, whilst working at the
+factory, and so was disabled a good while. It takes little
+additional weight to sink those whose chins are only just above
+water; and these untoward circumstances oiled the way of this
+struggling family to the ground, before the mills stopped. A few
+months' want of work, with their little stock of shop stuff oozing
+away--partly on credit to their poor neighbours, and partly to live
+upon themselves --and they become destitute of all, except a few
+beggarly remnants of empty shop furniture. Looking round the place,
+I said," Well, missis, how's trade?" "Oh, brisk," said she; and then
+the man and his wife smiled at one another. "Well," said I, "yo'n
+sowd up, I see, heawever." "Ay," answered she, "we'n sowd up, for
+sure--a good while sin';" and then she smiled again, as if she
+thought she had said a clever thing. They had been receiving relief
+from the parish several weeks; but she told me that some ill-natured
+neighbour had "set it eawt," that they had sold off their stock out
+of the shop, and put the money into the bank. Through this report,
+the Board of Guardians had "knocked off" their relief for a
+fortnight, until the falsity of the report was made clear. After
+that, the Board gave orders for the man and his wife and three of
+the children to be admitted to the workhouse, leaving the other two
+lads, who were working at the "Stone Yard," to "fend for theirsels,"
+and find new nests wherever they could. This, however, was overruled
+afterwards; and the family is still holding together in the empty
+shop,--receiving from all sources, work and relief, about 13s. a
+week for the seven,--not bad, compared with the income of very many
+others. It is sad to think how many poor families get sundered and
+scattered about the world in a time like this, never to meet again.
+And the false report respecting this family in the little shop,
+reminds me that the poor are not always kind to the poor. I learnt,
+from a gentleman who is Secretary to the Relief Committee of one of
+the wards, that it is not uncommon for the committees to receive
+anonymous letters, saying that so and so is unworthy of relief, on
+some ground or other. These complaints were generally found to be
+either wholly false, or founded upon some mistake. I have three such
+letters now before me. The first, written on a torn scrap of ruled
+paper, runs thus:--"May 19th, 1862.--If you please be so kind as to
+look after __ Back Newton Street Formerly a Resident of __ as i
+think he is not Deserving Relief.--A Ratepayer." In each case I give
+the spelling, and everything else, exactly as in the originals
+before me, except the names. The next of these epistles says:--
+"Preston, May 29th.--Sir, I beg to inform you that __, of Park Road,
+in receipt from the Relief Fund, is a very unworthy person, having
+worked two days since the 16 and drunk the remainder and his wife
+also; for the most part, he has plenty of work for himself his wife
+and a journeyman but that is their regular course of life. And the
+S___s have all their family working full time. Yours respectfully."
+These last two are anonymous. The next is written in a very good
+hand, upon a square piece of very blue writing paper. It has a name
+attached, but no address:--"Preston, June 2nd, 1862.--Mr. Dunn,--
+Dear Sir, Would you please to inquire into the case of __, of __.
+the are a family of 3 the man work four or more days per week on the
+moor the woman works 6 days per week at Messrs Simpsons North Road
+the third is a daughter 13 or 14 should be a weaver but to lasey she
+has good places such as Mr. Hollins and Horrocks and Millers as been
+sent a way for being to lasey. the man and woman very fond of drink.
+I as a Nabour and a subscriber do not think this a proper case for
+your charity. Yours truly, __." The committee could not find out the
+writer of this, although a name is given. Such things as these need
+no comment.
+
+The next house we called at was inhabited by an old widow and her
+only daughter. The daughter had been grievously afflicted with
+disease of the heart, and quite incapable of helping herself during
+the last eleven years. The poor worn girl sat upon an old tattered
+kind of sofa, near the fire, panting for breath in the close
+atmosphere. She sat there in feverish helplessness, sallow and
+shrunken, and unable to bear up her head. It was a painful thing to
+look at her. She had great difficulty in uttering a few words. I can
+hardly guess what her age may be now; I should think about twenty-
+five. Mr Toulmin, one of the visitors who accompanied me to the
+place, reminded the young woman of his having called upon them there
+more than four years ago, to leave some bedding which had been
+bestowed upon an old woman by a certain charity in the town. He saw
+no more of them after that, until the present hard times began, when
+he was deputed by the Relief Committee to call at that distressed
+corner amongst others in his own neighbourhood; and when he first
+opened the door, after a lapse of four years, he was surprised to
+find the same young woman, sitting in the same place, gasping
+painfully for breath, as he had last seen her. The old widow had
+just been able to earn what kept soul and body together in her sick
+girl and herself, during the last eleven years, by washing and such
+like work. But even this resource had fallen away a good deal during
+these bad times; there are so many poor creatures like herself,
+driven to extremity, and glad to grasp at any little bit of
+employment which can be had. In addition to what the old woman could
+get by a day's washing now and then, she received 1s. 6d. a week
+from the parish. Think of the poor old soul trailing about the
+world, trying to "scratch a living" for herself and her daughter by
+washing; and having to hurry home from her labour to attend to that
+sick girl through eleven long years. Such a life is a good deal like
+a slow funeral. It is struggling for a few breaths more, with the
+worms crawling over you. And yet I am told that the old woman was
+not accustomed to "make a poor mouth," as the saying goes. How true
+it is that "a great many people in this world have only one form of
+rhetoric for their profoundest experiences, namely--to waste away
+and die."
+
+Our next visit was to an Irish family. There was an old woman in,
+and a flaxen-headed lad about ten years of age. She was sitting upon
+a low chair,--the only seat in the place,--and the tattered lad was
+kneeling on the ground before her, whilst she combed his hair out.
+"Well, missis, how are you getting on amongst it?" "Oh, well, then,
+just middlin', Mr T. Ye see, I am busy combin' this boy's hair a
+bit, for 'tis gettin' like a wisp o' hay." There was not a vestige
+of furniture in the cottage, except the chair the old woman sat on.
+She said, "I did sell the childer's bedstead for 2s. 6d.; an' after
+that I sold the bed from under them for 1s. 6d., just to keep them
+from starvin' to death. The childer had been two days without mate
+then, an' faith I couldn't bear it any longer. After that I did sell
+the big pan, an' then the new rockin' chair, an' so on, one thing
+after another, till all wint entirely, barrin' this I am sittin' on,
+an' they wint for next to nothin' too. Sure, I paid 9s. 6d. for the
+bed itself, which was sold for 1s. 6d. We all sleep on straw now."
+This family was seven in number. The mill at which they used to work
+had been stopped about ten months. One of the family had found
+employment at another mill, three months out of the ten, and the old
+man himself had got a few days' work in that time. The rest of the
+family had been wholly unemployed, during the ten months. Except the
+little money this work brought in, and a trifle raised now and then
+by the sale of a bit of furniture when hunger and cold pressed them
+hard, the whole family had been living upon 5s. a week for the last
+ten months. The rent was running on. The eldest daughter was twenty-
+eight years of age. As we came away Mr Toulmin said to me, "Well, I
+have called at that house regularly for the last sixteen weeks, and
+this is the first time I ever saw a fire in the place. But the old
+man has got two days' work this week--that may account for the
+fire."
+
+It was now close upon half-past seven in the evening, at which time
+I had promised to call upon the Secretary of the Trinity Ward Relief
+Committee, whose admirable letter in the London Times, attracted so
+much attention about a month ago. I met several members of the
+committee at his lodgings, and we had an hour's interesting
+conversation. I learnt that, in cases of sickness arising from mere
+weakness, from poorness of diet, or from unsuitableness of the food
+commonly provided by the committee, orders were now issued for such
+kind of "kitchen physic" as was recommended by the doctors. The
+committee had many cases of this kind. One instance was mentioned,
+in which, by the doctor's advice, four ounces of mutton chop daily
+had been ordered to be given to a certain sick man, until further
+notice. The thing went on and was forgotten, until one day, when the
+distributor of food said to the committeeman who had issued the
+order, "I suppose I must continue that daily mutton chop to so-and-
+so?" "Eh, no; he's been quite well two months?" The chop had been
+going on for ninety-five days. We had some talk with that class of
+operatives who are both clean, provident, and "heawse-preawd," as
+Lancashire folk call it. The Secretary told me that he was averse to
+such people living upon the sale of their furniture; and the
+committee had generally relieved the distress of such people, just
+as if they had no furniture, at all. He mentioned the case of a
+family of factory operatives, who were all fervent lovers of music,
+as so many of the working people of Lancashire are. Whilst in full
+work, they had scraped up money to buy a piano; and, long after the
+ploughshare of ruin had begun to drive over the little household,
+they clung to the darling instrument, which was such a source of
+pure pleasure to them, and they were advised to keep it by the
+committee which relieved them. "Yes," said another member of the
+committee," but I called there lately, and the piano's gone at
+last." Many interesting things came out in the course of our
+conversation. One mentioned a house he had called at, where there
+was neither chair, table, nor bed; and one of the little lads had to
+hold up a piece of board for him to write upon. Another spoke of the
+difficulties which "lone women" have to encounter in these hard
+times. "I knocked so-and-so off my list," said one of the committee,
+"till I had inquired into an ill report I heard of her. But she came
+crying to me; and I found out that the woman had been grossly
+belied." Another (Mr Nowell) told of a house on his list, where they
+had no less than one hundred and fifty pawn tickets. He told, also,
+of a moulder's family, who had been all out of work and starving so
+long, that their poor neighbours came at last and recommended the
+committee to relieve them, as they would not apply for relief
+themselves. They accepted relief just one week, and then the man
+came and said that he had a PROSPECT of work; and he shouldn't need
+relief tickets any longer. It was here that I heard so much about
+anonymous letters, of which I have given you three samples. Having
+said that I should like to see the soup kitchen, one of the
+committee offered to go with me thither at six o'clock the next
+morning; and so I came away from the meeting in the cool twilight.
+
+Old Preston looked fine to me in the clear air of that declining
+day. I stood a while at the end of the "Bull" gateway. There was a
+comical-looking little knock-kneed fellow in the middle of the
+street --a wandering minstrel, well known in Preston by the name of
+"Whistling Jack." There he stood, warbling and waving his band, and
+looking from side to side,--in vain. At last I got him to whistle
+the "Flowers of Edinburgh." He did it, vigorously; and earned his
+penny well. But even "Whistling Jack" complained of the times. He
+said Preston folk had "no taste for music." But he assured me the
+time would come when there would be a monument to him in that town.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+
+About half-past six I found my friend waiting at the end of the
+"Bull" gateway. It was a lovely morning. The air was cool and clear,
+and the sky was bright. It was easy to see which was the way to the
+soup kitchen, by the stragglers going and coming. We passed the
+famous "Orchard," now a kind of fairground, which has been the scene
+of so many popular excitements in troubled times. All was quiet in
+the "Orchard" that morning, except that, here, a starved-looking
+woman, with a bit of old shawl tucked round her head, and a pitcher
+in her hand, and there, a bare-footed lass, carrying a tin can,
+hurried across the sunny space towards the soup kitchen. We passed a
+new inn, called "The Port Admiral." On the top of the building there
+were three life-sized statues--Wellington and Nelson, with the Greek
+slave between them--a curious companionship. These statues reminded
+me of a certain Englishman riding through Dublin, for the first
+time, upon an Irish car. "What are the three figures yonder?" said
+he to the car-boy, pointing to the top of some public building.
+"Thim three is the twelve apostles, your honour," answered the
+driver. "Nay, nay," said the traveller,"that'll not do. How do you
+make twelve out of three?" "Bedad," replied the driver, "your honour
+couldn't expect the whole twelve to be out at once such a murtherin'
+wet day as this." But we had other things than these to think of
+that day. As we drew near the baths and washhouses, where the soup
+kitchen is, the stream of people increased. About the gate there was
+a cluster of melancholy loungers, looking cold and hungry. They were
+neither going in nor going away. I was told afterwards that many of
+these were people who had neither money nor tickets for food--some
+of them wanderers from town to town; anybody may meet them limping,
+footsore and forlorn, upon the roads in Lancashire, just now--
+houseless wanderers, who had made their way to the soup kitchen to
+beg a mouthful from those who were themselves at death's door. In
+the best of times there are such wanderers; and, in spite of the
+generous provision made for the relief of the poor, there must be,
+in a time like the present, a great number who let go their hold of
+home (if they have any), and drift away in search of better fortune,
+and, sometimes, into irregular courses of life, never to settle
+more. Entering the yard, we found the wooden sheds crowded with
+people at breakfast--all ages, from white-haired men, bent with
+years, to eager childhood, yammering over its morning meal, and
+careless till the next nip of hunger came. Here and there a bonny
+lass had crept into the shade with her basin; and there was many a
+brown-faced man, who had been hardened by working upon the moor or
+at the "stone-yard." "Theer, thae's shap't that at last, as how?"
+said one of these to his friend, who had just finished and stood
+wiping his mouth complacently. "Shap't that," replied the other,
+"ay, lad, aw can do a ticket and a hafe (three pints of soup) every
+morning." Five hundred people breakfast in the sheds alone, every
+day. The soup kitchen opens at five in the morning, and there is
+always a crowd waiting to get in. This looks like the eagerness of
+hunger. I was told that they often deliver 3000 quarts of soup at
+this kitchen in two hours. The superintendent of the bread
+department informed me that, on that morning, he had served out two
+thousand loaves, of 3lb. 11oz. each. There was a window at one end,
+where soup was delivered to such as brought money for it instead of
+tickets. Those who came with tickets--by far the greatest number--
+had to pass in single file through a strong wooden maze, which
+restrained their eagerness, and compelled them to order. I noticed
+that only a small proportion of men went through the maze; they were
+mostly women and children. There was many a fine, intelligent young
+face hurried blushing through that maze--many a bonny lad and lass
+who will be heard of honourably hereafter. The variety of utensils
+presented showed that some of the poor souls had been hard put to it
+for things to fetch their soup in. One brought a pitcher; another a
+bowl; and another a tin can, a world too big for what it had to
+hold. "Yo mun mind th' jug," said one old woman; "it's cracked, an'
+it's noan o' mine." "Will ye bring me some?" said a little, light-
+haired lass, holding up her rosy neb to the soupmaster. "Aw want a
+ha'poth," said a lad with a three-quart can in his hand. The
+benevolent-looking old gentleman who had taken the superintendence
+of the soup department as a labour of love, told me that there had
+been a woman there by half-past five that morning, who had come four
+miles for some coffee. There was a poor fellow breakfasting in the
+shed at the same time; and he gave the woman a thick shive of his
+bread as she went away. He mentioned other instances of the same
+humane feeling; and he said, "After what I have seen of them here, I
+say, 'Let me fall into the hands of the poor.'"
+
+"They who, half-fed, feed the breadless, in the travail of distress;
+They who, taking from a little, give to those who still have less;
+They who, needy, yet can pity when they look on greater need;
+These are Charity's disciples,--these are Mercy's sons indeed."
+
+We returned to the middle of the town just as the shopkeepers in
+Friargate were beginning to take their shutters down. I had another
+engagement at half-past nine. A member of the Trinity Ward Relief
+Committee, who is master of the Catholic school in that ward, had
+offered to go with me to visit some distressed people who were under
+his care in that part of the town. We left Friargate at the
+appointed time. As we came along there was a crowd in front of
+Messrs Wards', the fishmongers. A fine sturgeon had just been
+brought in. It had been caught in the Ribble that morning. We went
+in to look at the royal fish. It was six feet long, and weighed
+above a hundred pounds. I don't know that I ever saw a sturgeon
+before. But we had other fish to fry; and so we went on. The first
+place we called at was a cellar in Nile Street. "Here," said my
+companion, "let us have a look at old John." A gray-headed little
+man, of seventy, lived down in this one room, sunken from the
+street. He had been married forty years, and if I remember aright,
+he lost his wife about four years ago. Since that time, he had lived
+in this cellar, all alone, washing and cooking for himself. But I
+think the last would not trouble him much, for "they have no need
+for fine cooks who have only one potato to their dinner." When a
+lad, he had been apprenticed to a bobbin turner. Afterwards he
+picked up some knowledge of engineering; and he had been "well off
+in his day." He now got a few coppers occasionally from the poor
+folk about, by grinding knives, and doing little tinkering jobs.
+Under the window he had a rude bench, with a few rusty tools upon
+it, and in one corner there was a low, miserable bedstead, without
+clothing upon it. There was one cratchinly chair in the place, too;
+but hardly anything else. He had no fire; be generally went into
+neighbours' houses to warm himself. He was not short of such food as
+the Relief Committees bestow. There was a piece of bread upon the
+bench, left from his morning meal; and the old fellow chirruped
+about, and looked as blithe as if he was up to the middle in clover.
+He showed us a little thing which he had done "for a bit ov a
+prank." The number of his cellar was 8, and he had cut out a large
+tin figure of 8, a foot long, and nailed it upon his door, for the
+benefit of some of his friends that were getting bad in their
+eyesight, and "couldn't read smo' print so low deawn as that."
+"Well, John," said my companion, when we went in, "how are you
+getting on?" "Oh, bravely," replied he, handing a piece of blue
+paper to the inquirer, "bravely; look at that!" Why, this is a
+summons," said my companion. "Ay, bigad is't, too," answered the old
+man. "Never had sich a thing i' my life afore! Think o' me gettin' a
+summons for breakin' windows at seventy year owd. A bonny warlock,
+that, isn't it? Why, th' whole street went afore th' magistrates to
+get mo off." "Then you did get off, John?" "Get off! Sure, aw did.
+It wur noan o' me. It wur a keaw jobber, at did it. . . . Aw'll tell
+yo what, for two pins aw'd frame that summons, an' hang it eawt o'
+th' window; but it would look so impudent." Old John's wants were
+inquired into, and we left him fiddling among his rusty tools. We
+next went to a place called Hammond's Row--thirteen poor cottages,
+side by side. Twelve of the thirteen were inhabited by people
+living, almost entirely, upon relief, either from the parish or from
+the Relief Committee. There was only one house where no relief was
+needed. As we passed by, the doors were nearly all open, and the
+interiors all presented the same monotonous phase of destitution.
+They looked as if they had been sacked by bum-bailiffs. The topmost
+house was the only place where I saw a fire. A family of eight lived
+there. They were Irish people. The wife, a tall, cheerful woman, sat
+suckling her child, and giving a helping hand now and then to her
+husband's work. He was a little, pale fellow, with only one arm, and
+he had an impediment in his speech. He had taken to making cheap
+boxes of thin, rough deal, afterwards covered with paper. With the
+help of his wife he could make one in a day, and he got ninepence
+profit out of it--when the box was sold. He was working at one when
+we went in, and he twirled it proudly about with his one arm, and
+stammered out a long explanation about the way it had been made; and
+then he got upon the lid, and sprang about a little, to let us see
+how much it would bear. As the brave little tattered man stood there
+upon the box-lid, springing, and sputtering, and waving his one arm,
+his wife looked up at him with a smile, as if she thought him "the
+greatest wight on ground." There was a little curly-headed child
+standing by, quietly taking in all that was going on. I laid my hand
+upon her head; and asked her what her name was. She popped her thumb
+into her mouth, and looked shyly about from one to another, but
+never a word could I get her to say. "That's Lizzy," said the woman;
+"she is a little visitor belongin' to one o' the neighbours. They
+are badly off, and she often comes in. Sure, our childer is very
+fond of her, an' so she is of them. She is fine company wid
+ourselves, but always very shy wid strangers. Come now, Lizzy,
+darlin'; tell us your name, love, won't you, now?" But it was no
+use; we couldn't get her to speak. In the next cottage where we
+called, in this row, there was a woman washing. Her mug was standing
+upon a stool in the middle of the floor; and there was not any other
+thing in the place in the shape of furniture or household utensil.
+The walls were bare of everything, except a printed paper, bearing
+these words:
+
+"The wages of sin is death. But the gift of God is eternal life,
+through Jesus Christ our Lord." We now went to another street, and
+visited the cottage of a blind chairmaker, called John Singleton. He
+was a kind of oracle among the poor folk of the neighbourhood. The
+old chairmaker was sitting by the fire when we went in; and opposite
+to him sat "Old John," the hero of the broken windows in Nile
+Street. He had come up to have a crack with his blind crony. The
+chairmaker was seventy years of age, and he had benefited by the
+advantage of good fundamental instruction in his youth. He was very
+communicative. He said he should have been educated for the
+priesthood, at Stonyhurst College. "My clothes were made, an'
+everything was ready for me to start to Stonyhurst. There was a
+stagecoach load of us going; but I failed th' heart, an' wouldn't
+go--an' I've forethought ever sin'. Mr Newby said to my friends at
+the same time, he said, 'You don't need to be frightened of him;
+he'll make the brightest priest of all the lot--an' I should, too. .
+. . I consider mysel' a young man yet, i' everything, except it be
+somethin' at's uncuth to me." And now, old John, the grinder, began
+to complain again of how badly he had been used about the broken
+windows in Nile Street. But the old chairmaker stopped him; and,
+turning up his blind eyes, he said, "John, don't you be foolish.
+Bother no moor abeawt it. All things has but a time."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+
+A man cannot go wrong in Trinity Ward just now, if he wants to see
+poor folk. He may find them there at any time, but now he cannot
+help but meet them; and nobody can imagine how badly off they are,
+unless he goes amongst them. They are biding the hard time out
+wonderfully well, and they will do so to the end. They certainly
+have not more than a common share of human frailty. There are those
+who seem to think that when people are suddenly reduced to poverty,
+they should become suddenly endowed with the rarest virtues; but it
+never was so, and, perhaps, never will be so long as the world
+rolls. In my rambles about this ward, I was astonished at the dismal
+succession of destitute homes, and the number of struggling owners
+of little shops, who were watching their stocks sink gradually down
+to nothing, and looking despondingly at the cold approach of
+pauperism. I was astonished at the strings of dwellings, side by
+side, stript, more or less, of the commonest household utensils--the
+poor little bare houses, often crowded with lodgers, whose homes had
+been broken up elsewhere; sometimes crowded, three or four families
+of decent working people in a cottage of half-a-crown a-week rental;
+sleeping anywhere, on benches or on straw, and afraid to doff their
+clothes at night time because they had no other covering. Now and
+then the weekly visitor comes to the door of a house where he has
+regularly called. He lifts the latch, and finds the door locked. He
+looks in at the window. The house is empty, and the people are gone-
+-the Lord knows where. Who can tell what tales of sorrow will have
+their rise in the pressure of a time like this--tales that will
+never be written, and that no statistics will reveal.
+
+Trinity Ward swarms with factory operatives; and, after our chat
+with blind John, the chairmaker, and his ancient crony the grinder
+from Nile Street, we set off again to see something more of them.
+Fitful showers came down through the day, and we had to shelter now
+and then. In one cottage, where we stopped a few minutes, the old
+woman told us that, in addition to their own family, they had three
+young women living with them--the orphan daughters of her husband's
+brother. They had been out of work thirty-four weeks, and their
+uncle--a very poor man--had been obliged to take them into his
+house, "till sich times as they could afford to pay for lodgin's
+somewheer else." My companion asked whether they were all out of
+work still. "Naw," replied the old woman, "one on 'em has getten on
+to wortch a few days for t' sick (that is, in the place of some sick
+person). Hoo's wortchin' i' th' cardreawn at 'Th' Big-un.'" (This is
+the name they give to Messrs Swainson and Birley's mill.)
+
+The next place we called at was the house of an old joiner. He was
+lying very ill upstairs. As we drew up to the door, my companion
+said, "Now, this is a clean, respectable family. They have struggled
+hard and suffered a great deal, before they would ask for relief."
+When we went in, the wife was cleaning her well-nigh empty house.
+"Eh," said she," I thought it wur th' clubman comin', an' I wur just
+goin' to tell him that I had nothin' for him." The family was seven
+in number--man, wife, and five children. The husband, as I have
+said, was lying ill. The wife told me that they had only 6s. a-week
+coming in for the seven to live upon. My companion was the weekly
+visitor who relieved them. She told me that her husband was sixty-
+eight years old; she was not forty. She said that her husband was
+not strong, and he had been going nearly barefoot and "clemmed" all
+through last winter, and she was afraid he had got his death of
+cold. They had not a bed left to lie upon. "My husband," said
+she,"was a master joiner once, an' was doin' very well. But you see
+how we are now." There were two portraits--oil paintings--hanging
+against the wall. "Whose portraits are these?" said I. "Well; that's
+my master--an' this is me," replied she. "He would have 'em taken
+some time since. I couldn't think o' sellin' 'em; or else, yo see,
+we've sold nearly everything we had. I did try to pawn 'em, too,
+thinkin' we could get 'em back again when things came round; but, I
+can assure yo, I couldn't find a broker anywhere that would tak' 'em
+in." "Well, Missis," said my companion, "yo have one comfort; you
+are always clean." "Eh, bless yo!" replied she, "I couldn't live
+among dirt! My husban' tells me that I clean all the luck away; but
+aw'm sure there's no luck i' filth; if there is, anybody may tak' it
+for me."
+
+The rain had stopt again; and after my friend had made a note
+respecting some additional relief for the family, we bade the woman
+good day. We had not gone far before a little ragged lass looked up
+admiringly at two pinks I had stuck in my buttonhole, and holding up
+her hand, said, "Eh, gi' me a posy!" My friend pointed to one of the
+cottages we passed, and said that the last time he called there, he
+found the family all seated round a large bowl of porridge, made of
+Indian meal. This meal is sold at a penny a pound. He stopped at
+another cottage and said, "Here's a house where I always find them
+reading when I call. I know the people very well." He knocked and
+tried the latch, but there was nobody in. As we passed an open door,
+the pleasant smell of oatcake baking came suddenly upon me. It woke
+up many memories of days gone by. I saw through the window a stout,
+meal-dusted old woman, busy with her wooden ladle and baking-shovel
+at a brisk oven. "Now, I should like to look in there for a minute
+or two, if it can be done," said I. "Well," replied my friend, "this
+woman is not on our books; she gets her own living in the way you
+see. But come in; it will be all right; I know her very well." I was
+glad of that, for I wanted to have a chat with her, and to peep at
+the baking. "Good morning, Missis," said he; "how are you?" "Why,
+just in a middlin' way." "How long is this wet weather going to
+last, think you?" "Nay, there ye hev me fast;--but what brings ye
+here this mornin'?" said the old woman, resting the end of her ladle
+on the little counter; "I never trouble sic like chaps as ye." "No,
+no," replied my friend; "we have not called about anything of that
+kind." "What, then, pray ye?" "Well, my friend, here, is almost a
+stranger in Preston; and as soon as ever he smelt the baking, he
+said he should like to see it, so I took the liberty of bringing him
+in." "Oh, ay; come in, an' welcome. Ye're just i' time, too; for
+I've bin sat at t' back to sarra (serve) t' pigs." "You're not a
+native of Lancashire, Missis," said I. "Why, wheer then? come, now;
+let's be knowin', as ye're so sharp." "Cumberland," said I. "Well,
+now; ye're reight, sewer enough. But how did ye find it out, now?"
+"Why, you said that you had been out to sarra t' pigs. A native of
+Lancashire would have said 'serve' instead of 'sarra.'" "Well,
+that's varra queer; for I've bin a lang time away from my awn
+country. But, whereivver do ye belang to, as ye're so bowd wi' me?"
+said she, smiling, and turning over a cake which was baking upon the
+oven. I told her that I was born a few miles from Manchester.
+"Manchester! never, sewer;" said she, resting her ladle again; "why,
+I lived ever so long i' Manchester when I was young. I was cook at
+th' Swan i' Shudehill, aboon forty year sin." She said that, in
+those days, the Swan, in Shudehill, was much frequented by the
+commercial men of Manchester. It was a favourite dining house for
+them. Many of them even brought their own beefsteak on a skewer; and
+paid a penny for the cooking of it. She said she always liked
+Manchester very well; but she had not been there for a good while.
+"But," said she, "ye'll hev plenty o' oatcake theer--sartin." "Not
+much, now," replied I; "it's getting out o' fashion." I told her
+that we had to get it once a week from a man who came all the way
+from Stretford into Manchester, with a large basketful upon his
+head, crying "Woat cakes, two a penny!" "Two a penny!" said she;
+"why, they'll not be near as big as these, belike." "Not quite,"
+replied I. "Not quite! naw; not hauf t' size, aw warnd! Why, th'
+poor fellow desarves his brass iv he niver gev a farthin' for th'
+stuff to mak 'eni on. What! I knaw what oatcake bakin' is."
+
+Leaving the canny old Cumberland woman at her baking, we called at a
+cottage in Everton Gardens. It was as clean as a gentleman's
+parlour; but there was no furniture in sight except a table, and,
+upon the table, a fine bush of fresh hawthorn blossom, stuck in a
+pint jug full of water. Here, I heard again the common story--they
+had been several months out of work; their household goods had
+dribbled away in ruinous sales, for something to live upon; and now,
+they had very little left but the walls. The little woman said to
+me, "Bless yo, there is at thinks we need'n nought, becose we keepen
+a daycent eawtside. But, I know my own know abeawt that. Beside, one
+doesn't like to fill folk's meawths, iv one is ill off."
+
+It was now a little past noon, and we spent a few minutes looking
+through the Catholic schoolhouse, in Trinity Ward--a spacious brick
+building. The scholars were away at dinner. My friend is master of
+the school. His assistant offered to go with us to one or two Irish
+families in a close wynd, hard by, called Wilkie's Court. In every
+case I had the great advantage of being thus accompanied by
+gentlemen who were friendly and familiar with the poor we visited.
+This was a great facility to me. Wilkie's Court is a little cul de
+sac, with about half-a-dozen wretched cottages in it, fronted by a
+dead wall. The inhabitants of the place are all Irish. They were
+nearly all kept alive by relief from one source or other; but their
+poverty was not relieved by that cleanliness which I had witnessed
+in so many equally poor houses, making the best use of those simple
+means of comfort which are invaluable, although they cost little or
+nothing. In the first house we called at, a middle-aged woman was
+pacing slowly about the unwholesome house with a child in her arms.
+My friend inquired where the children were. "They are in the houses
+about; all but the one poor boy." "And where is he?" said I. "Well,
+he comes home now an' agin; he comes an' goes; sure, we don't know
+how. . . . Ah, thin, sir," continued she, beginning to cry, "I'll
+tell ye the rale truth, now. He was drawn away by some bad lads, an'
+he got three months in the New Bailey; that's God's truth. . . . Ah,
+what'll I do wid him," said she, bursting into tears afresh;
+"what'll I do wid him? sure, he is my own!" We did not stop long to
+intrude upon such trouble as this. She called out as we came away to
+tell us that the poor crayter next door was quite helpless. The next
+house was, in some respects, more comfortable than the last, though
+it was quite as poor in household goods. There was one flimsy deal
+table, one little chair, and two half-penny pictures of Catholic
+saints pinned against the wall. "Sure, I sold the other table since
+you wor here before," said the woman to my friend; "I sold it for
+two-an'-aightpence, an' bought this one for sixpence." At the house
+of another Irish family, my friend inquired where all the chairs
+were gone. "Oh," said a young woman," the baillies did fetch
+uvverything away, barrin' the one sate, when we were livin' in
+Lancaster Street." "Where do you all sit now, then?" "My mother sits
+there," replied she, "an' we sit upon the flure." "I heard they were
+goin' to sell these heawses," said one of the lads, "but, begorra,"
+continued he, with a laugh, "I wouldn't wonder did they sell the
+ground from under us next." In the course of our visitation a
+thunder storm came on, during which we took shelter with a poor
+widow woman, who had a plateful of steeped peas for sale, in the
+window. She also dealt in rags and bones in a small way, and so
+managed to get a living, as she said, "beawt troublin' onybody for
+charity." She said it was a thing that folk had to wait a good deal
+out in the cold for.
+
+It was market-day, and there were many country people in Preston. On
+my way back to the middle of the town, I called at an old inn, in
+Friargate, where I listened with pleasure a few minutes to the old-
+fashioned talk of three farmers from the Fylde country. Their
+conversation was principally upon cow-drinks. One of them said there
+was nothing in the world like "peppermint tay an' new butter" for
+cows that had the belly-ache. "They'll be reet in a varra few
+minutes at after yo gotten that into 'em," said he. As evening came
+on the weather settled into one continuous shower, and I left
+Preston in the heavy rain, weary, and thinking of what I had seen
+during the day. Since then I have visited the town again, and I
+shall say something about that visit hereafter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+
+The rain had been falling heavily through the night. It was raw and
+gusty, and thick clouds were sailing wildly overhead, as I went to
+the first train for Preston. It was that time of morning when there
+is a lull in the streets of Manchester, between six and eight. The
+"knocker-up" had shouldered his long wand, and paddled home to bed
+again; and the little stalls, at which the early workman stops for
+his half-penny cup of coffee, were packing up. A cheerless morning,
+and the few people that were about looked damp and low spirited. I
+bought the day's paper, and tried to read it, as we flitted by the
+glimpses of dirty garret-life, through the forest of chimneys,
+gushing forth their thick morning fumes into the drizzly air, and
+over the dingy web of Salford streets. We rolled on through
+Pendleton, where the country is still trying to look green here and
+there, under increasing difficulties; but it was not till we came to
+where the green vale of Clifton open out, that I became quite
+reconciled to the weather. Before we were well out of sight of the
+ancient tower of Prestwich Church, the day brightened a little. The
+shifting folds of gloomy cloud began to glide asunder, and through
+the gauzy veils which lingered in the interspaces, there came a dim
+radiance which lighted up the rain-drops "lingering on the pointed
+thorns;" and the tall meadow grasses were swaying to and fro with
+their loads of liquid pearls, in courtesies full of exquisite grace,
+as we whirled along. I enjoyed the ride that raw morning, although
+the sky was all gloom again long before we came in sight of the
+Ribble.
+
+I met my friend, in Preston, at half-past nine; and we started at
+once for another ramble amongst the poor, in a different part of
+Trinity Ward. We went first to a little court, behind Bell Street.
+There is only one house in the court, and it is known as "Th' Back
+Heawse." In this cottage the little house-things had escaped the
+ruin which I had witnessed in so many other places. There were two
+small tables, and three chairs; and there were a few pots and a pan
+or two. Upon the cornice there were two pot spaniels, and two
+painted stone apples; and, between them, there was a sailor waving a
+union jack, and a little pudgy pot man, for holding tobacco. On the
+windowsill there was a musk-plant; and, upon the table by the
+staircase, there was a rude cage, containing three young throstles.
+The place was tidy; and there was a kind-looking old couple inside.
+The old man stood at the table in the middle of the floor, washing
+the pots, and the old woman was wiping them, and putting them away.
+A little lad sat by the fire, thwittling at a piece of stick. The
+old man spoke very few words the whole time we were there, but he
+kept smiling and going on with his washing. The old woman was very
+civil, and rather shy at first; but we soon got into free talk
+together. She told me that she had borne thirteen children. Seven of
+them were dead; and the other six were all married, and all poor. "I
+have one son," said she; "he's a sailmaker. He's th' best off of any
+of 'em. But, Lord bless yo; he's not able to help us. He gets very
+little, and he has to pay a woman to nurse his sick wife. . . . This
+lad that's here,--he's a little grandson o' mine; he's one of my
+dowter's childer. He brings his meight with him every day, an'
+sleeps with us. They han bod one bed, yo see. His father hasn't had
+a stroke o' work sin Christmas. They're badly off. As for us--my
+husband has four days a week on th' moor,--that's 4s., an' we've 2s.
+a week to pay out o' that for rent. Yo may guess fro that, heaw we
+are. He should ha' been workin' on the moor today, but they've bin
+rain't off. We've no kind o' meight i' this house bod three-ha'poth
+o' peas; an' we've no firin'. He's just brokken up an owd cheer to
+heat th' watter wi'. (The old man smiled at this, as if he thought
+it was a good joke.) He helps me to wesh, an' sick like; an' yo'
+know, it's a good deal better than gooin' into bad company, isn't
+it? (Here the old man gave her a quiet, approving look, like a good
+little lad taking notice of his mother's advice.) Aw'm very glad of
+a bit o' help," continued she,"for aw'm not so terrible mich use,
+mysel'. Yo see; aw had a paralytic stroke seven year sin, an' we've
+not getten ower it. For two year aw hadn't a smite o' use all deawn
+this side. One arm an' one leg trail't quite helpless. Aw drunk for
+ever o' stuff for it. At last aw gat somethin' ov a yarb doctor. He
+said that he could cure me for a very trifle, an' he did me a deal
+o' good, sure enough. He nobbut charged me hauve-a-creawn. . . . We
+never knowed what it was to want a meal's meight till lately. We
+never had a penny off th' parish, nor never trouble't anybody till
+neaw. Aw wish times would mend, please God! . . . We once had a pig,
+an' was in a nice way o' gettin' a livin'. . . . When things began
+o' gooin' worse an' worse with us, we went to live in a cellar, at
+sixpence a week rent; and we made it very comfortable, too. We
+didn't go there because we liked th' place; but we thought nobody
+would know; an, we didn't care, so as we could put on till times
+mended, an' keep aat o' debt. But th' inspectors turned us out, an'
+we had to come here, an' pay 2s. a week. . . . Aw do NOT like to ask
+for charity, iv one could help it. They were givin' clothin' up at
+th' church a while sin', an' some o' th' neighbours wanted me to go
+an' ax for some singlets, ye see aw cannot do without flannels,--but
+aw couldn't put th' face on." Now, the young throstles in the cage
+by the staircase began to chirp one after another. "Yer yo at that!
+"said the old man, turning round to the cage; "yer yo at that!
+Nobbut three week owd!" "Yes," replied the old woman; "they belong
+to my grandson theer. He brought 'em in one day --neest an' all; an'
+poor nake't crayters they were. He's a great lad for birds." "He's
+no worse nor me for that," answered the old man; "aw use't to be
+terrible fond o' brids when aw wur yung."
+
+After a little more talk, we bade the old couple good day, and went
+to peep at the cellar where they had crept stealthily away, for the
+sake of keeping their expenses close to their lessening income. The
+place was empty, and the door was open. It was a damp and cheerless
+little hole, down in the corner of a dirty court. We went next into
+Pole Street, and tried the door of a cottage where a widow woman
+lived with her children less than a week before. They were gone, and
+the house was cleared out. "They have had neither fire nor candle in
+that house for weeks past," said my companion. We then turned up a
+narrow entry, which was so dark and low overhead that my companion
+only told me just in time to "mind my hat!" There are several such
+entries leading out of Pole Street to little courts behind. Here we
+turned into a cold and nearly empty cottage, where a middle-aged
+woman sat nursing a sick child. She looked worn and ill herself, and
+she had sore eyes. She told me that the child was her daughter's.
+Her daughter's husband had died of asthma in the workhouse, about
+six weeks before. He had not "addled" a penny for twelve months
+before he died. She said, "We hed a varra good heawse i' Stanley
+Street once; but we hed to sell up an' creep hitherto. This heawse
+is 2s. 3d. a week; an' we mun pay it, or go into th' street. Aw
+nobbut owed him for one week, an' he said, 'Iv yo connot pay yo mun
+turn eawt for thoose 'at will do.' Aw did think o' gooin' to th'
+Board," continued she, "for a pair o' clogs. My een are bad; an' awm
+ill all o'er, an' it's wi' nought but gooin' weet o' my feet. My
+daughter's wortchin'. Hoo gets 5s. 6d. a week. We han to live an'
+pay th' rent, too, eawt o' that." I guessed, from the little paper
+pictures on the wall, that they were Catholics.
+
+In another corner behind Pole Street, we called at a cottage of two
+rooms, each about three yards square. A brother and sister lived
+together here. They were each about fifty years of age. They had
+three female lodgers, factory operatives, out of work. The sister
+said that her brother had been round to the factories that morning,
+"Thinking that as it wur a pastime, there would haply be somebody
+off; but he couldn't yer o' nought." She said she got a trifle by
+charing, but not much now; for folks were "beginnin' to do it for
+theirsels." We now turned into Cunliffe Street, and called upon an
+Irish family there. It was a family of seven--an old tailor, and his
+wife and children. They had "dismissed the relief," as he expressed
+it, "because they got a bit o' work." The family was making a little
+living by ripping up old clothes, and turning the cloth to make it
+up afresh into lads' caps and other cheap things. The old man had
+had a great deal of trouble with his family. "I have one girl," said
+he, "who has bothered my mind a dale. She is under the influence o'
+bad advice. I had her on my hands for many months; an', after that,
+the furst week's wages she got, she up, an' cut stick, an' left me.
+I have another daughter, now nigh nineteen years of age. The trouble
+I have with her I am content with; because it can't be helped. The
+poor crayter hasn't the use of all her faculties. I have taken no
+end o' pains with her, but I can't get her to count twenty on her
+finger ends wid a whole life's tachein'. Fortune has turned her dark
+side to me this long time, now; and, bedad, iv it wasn't for
+contrivin', an' workin' hard to boot, I wouldn't be able to keep
+above the flood. I assure ye it goes agin me to trouble the
+gentlemen o' the Board; an' so long as I am able, I will not. I was
+born in King's County; an' I was once well off in the city of
+Waterford I once had 400 pounds in the bank. I seen the time I
+didn't drame of a cloudy day; but things take quare turns in this
+world. How-an-ever, since it's no better, thank God it's no worse.
+Sure, it's a long lane that has never a turn in it."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+
+"There's nob'dy but the Lord an' me
+That knows what I've to bide."
+--NATTERIN NAN.
+
+The slipshod old tailor shuffled after us to the door, talking about
+the signs of the times. His frame was bowed with age and labour, and
+his shoulders drooped away. It was drawing near the time when the
+grasshopper would be a burden to him. A hard life had silently
+engraved its faithful records upon that furrowed face; but there was
+a cheerful ring in his voice which told of a hopeful spirit within
+him still. The old man's nostrils were dusty with snuff, and his
+poor garments hung about his shrunken form in the careless ease
+which is common to the tailor's shopboard. I could not help admiring
+the brave old wrinkled workman as he stood in the doorway talking
+about his secondhand trade, whilst the gusty wind fondled about in
+his thin gray hair. I took a friendly pinch from his little wooden
+box at parting, and left him to go on struggling with his
+troublesome family to "keep above the flood," by translating old
+clothes into new. We called at some other houses, where the features
+of life were so much the same that it is not necessary to say more
+than that the inhabitants were all workless, or nearly so, and all
+living upon the charitable provision which is the only thin plank
+between so many people and death, just now. In one house, where the
+furniture had been sold, the poor souls had brought a great stone
+into the place, and this was their only seat. In Cunliffe Street, we
+passed the cottage of a boilermaker, whom I had heard of before. His
+family was four in number. This was one of those cases of wholesome
+pride in which the family had struggled with extreme penury, seeking
+for work in vain, but never asking for charity, until their own poor
+neighbours were at last so moved with pity for their condition, that
+they drew the attention of the Relief Committee to it. The man
+accepted relief for one week, but after that, he declined receiving
+it any longer, because he had met with a promise of employment. But
+the promise failed him when the time came. The employer, who had
+promised, was himself disappointed of the expected work. After this;
+the boilermaker's family was compelled to fall back upon the Relief
+Committee's allowance. He who has never gone hungry about the world,
+with a strong love of independence in his heart, seeking eagerly for
+work from day to day, and coming home night after night to a
+foodless, fireless house, and a starving family, disappointed and
+desponding, with the gloom of destitution deepening around him, can
+never fully realise what the feelings of such a man may be from
+anything that mere words can tell.
+
+In Park Road, we called at the house of a hand-loom weaver. I
+learnt, before we went in, that two families lived here, numbering
+together eight persons; and, though it was well known to the
+committee that they had suffered as severely as any on the relief
+list, yet their sufferings had been increased by the anonymous
+slanders of some ill-disposed neighbours. They were quiet, well-
+conducted working people; and these slanders had grieved them very
+much. I found the poor weaver's wife very sensitive on this subject.
+Man's inhumanity to man may be found among the poor sometimes. It is
+not every one who suffers that learns mercy from that suffering. As
+I have said before, the husband was a calico weaver on the hand-
+loom. He had to weave about seventy-three yards of a kind of check
+for 3s., and a full week's work rarely brought him more than 5s. It
+seems astonishing that a man should stick year after year to such
+labour as this. But there is a strong adhesiveness, mingled with
+timidity, in some men, which helps to keep them down. In the front
+room of the cottage there was not a single article of furniture
+left, so far as I can remember. The weaver's wife was in the little
+kitchen, and, knowing the gentleman who was with me, she invited us
+forward. She was a wan woman, with sunken eyes, and she was not much
+under fifty years of age. Her scanty clothing was whole and clean.
+She must have been a very good-looking woman sometime, though she
+seemed to me as if long years of hard work and poor diet had sapped
+the foundations of her constitution; and there was a curious
+changeful blending of pallor and feverish flush upon that worn face.
+But, even in the physical ruins of her countenance, a pleasing
+expression lingered still. She was timid and quiet in her manner at
+first, as if wondering what we had come for; but she asked me to sit
+down. There was no seat for my friend, and he stood leaning against
+the wall, trying to get her into easy conversation. The little
+kitchen looked so cheerless and bare that dull morning that it
+reminded me again of a passage in that rude, racy song of the
+Lancashire weaver, "Jone o' Greenfeelt"--
+
+"Owd Bill o' Dan's sent us th' baillies one day,
+For a shop-score aw owed him, at aw couldn't pay;
+But, he were too lat, for owd Billy at th' Bent
+Had sent th' tit an' cart, an' taen th' goods off for rent,--
+They laft nought but th' owd stoo;
+It were seats for us two,
+An' on it keawr't Margit an' me.
+
+"Then, th' baillies looked reawnd 'em as sly as a meawse,
+When they see'd at o'th goods had bin taen eawt o' th' heawse;
+Says tone chap to tother, 'O's gone,--thae may see,'--
+Says aw, 'Lads, ne'er fret, for yo're welcome to me!'
+Then they made no moor do,
+But nipt up wi' owd stoo,
+An' we both letten thwack upo' th' flags.
+
+"Then aw said to eawr Margit, while we're upo' the floor,
+'We's never be lower i' this world, aw'm sure;
+Iv ever things awtern they're likely to mend,
+For aw think i' my heart that we're both at th' fur end;
+For meight we ban noan,
+Nor no looms to weighve on,
+An' egad, they're as good lost as fund.'"
+
+We had something to do to get the weaver's wife to talk to us
+freely, and I believe the reason was, that, after the slanders they
+had been subject to, she harboured a sensitive fear lest anything
+like doubt should be cast upon her story. "Well, Mrs," said my
+friend, "let's see; how many are you altogether in this house?"
+"We're two families, yo know," replied she; "there's eight on us all
+altogether." "Well," continued he,"and how much have you coming in,
+now?" He had asked this question so oft before, and had so often
+received the same answer, that the poor soul began to wonder what
+was the meaning of it all. She looked at us silently, her wan face
+flushed, and then, with tears rising in her eyes, she said,
+tremulously, "Well, iv yo' cannot believe folk--" My friend stopped
+her at once, and said, "Nay, Mrs_, you must not think that I doubt
+your story. I know all about it; but my friend wanted me to let you
+tell it your own way. We have come here to do you good, if possible,
+and no harm. You don't need to fear that." "Oh, well," said she,
+slowly wiping her moist forehead, and looking relieved," but yo
+know, aw was very much put about o'er th' ill-natur't talk as
+somebody set eawt." "Take no notice of them," said my friend; "take
+no notice. I meet with such things every day." "Well," continued
+she," yo know heaw we're situated. We were nine months an' hesn't a
+stroke o' wark. Eawr wenches are gettin' a day for t' sick, neaw and
+then, but that's all. There's a brother o' mine lives with us,--he'd
+a been clemmed into th' grave but for th' relief; an' aw've been
+many a time an' hesn't put a bit i' my meawth fro mornin' to mornin'
+again. We've bin married twenty-four year; an' aw don't think at him
+an' me together has spent a shillin' i' drink all that time. Why, to
+tell yo truth, we never had nought to stir on. My husband does bod
+get varra little upo th' hand-loom i' th' best o' times--5s. a week
+or so. He weighves a sort o' check--seventy-three yards for 3s." The
+back door opened into a little damp yard, hemmed in by brick walls.
+Over in the next yard we could see a man bustling about, and singing
+in a loud voice, "Hard times come again no more." "Yon fellow
+doesn't care much about th' hard times, I think," said I. "Eh, naw,"
+replied she. "He'll live where mony a one would dee, will yon. He
+has that little shop, next dur; an' he keeps sellin' a bit o' toffy,
+an' then singin' a bit, an' then sellin' a bit moor toffy,--an' he's
+as happy as a pig amung slutch."
+
+Leaving the weaver's cottage, the rain came on, and we sat a few
+minutes with a young shoemaker, who was busy at his bench, doing a
+cobbling job. His wife was lying ill upstairs. He had been so short
+of work for some time past that he had been compelled to apply for
+relief. He complained that the cheap gutta percha shoes were hurting
+his trade. He said a pair of men's gutta percha shoes could be
+bought for 5s. 6d., whilst it would cost him 7s. 6d. for the
+materials alone to make a pair of men's shoes of. When the rain was
+over, we left his house, and as we went along I saw in a cottage
+window a printed paper containing these words, "Bitter beer. This
+beer is made of herbs and roots of the native country." I know that
+there are many poor people yet in Lancashire who use decoctions of
+herbs instead of tea--mint and balm are the favourite herbs for this
+purpose; but I could not imagine what this herb beer could be, at a
+halfpenny a bottle, unless it was made of nettles. At the cottage
+door there was about four-pennyworth of mauled garden stuff upon an
+old tray. There was nobody inside but a little ragged lass, who
+could not tell us what the beer was made of. She had only one
+drinking glass in the place, and that had a snip out of the rim. The
+beer was exceedingly bitter. We drank as we could, and then went
+into Pump Street, to the house of a "core-maker," a kind of labourer
+for moulders. The core-maker's wife was in. They had four children.
+The whole six had lived for thirteen weeks on 3s. 6d. a week. When
+work first began to fall off, the husband told the visitors who came
+to inquire into their condition, that he had a little money saved
+up, and he could manage a while. The family lived upon their savings
+as long as they lasted, and then were compelled to apply for relief,
+or "clem." It was not quite noon when we left this house, and my
+friend proposed that before we went farther we should call upon Mrs
+G_, an interesting old woman, in Cunliffe Street. We turned back to
+the place, and there we found
+
+"In lowly shed, and mean attire,
+A matron old, whom we schoolmistress name,
+Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame."
+
+In a small room fronting the street, the mild old woman sat, with
+her bed in one corner, and her simple vassals ranged upon the forms
+around. Here, "with quaint arts," she swayed the giddy crowd of
+little imprisoned elves, whilst they fretted away their irksome
+schooltime, and unconsciously played their innocent prelude to the
+serious drama of life. As we approach the open door--
+
+"The noises intermix'd, which thence resound,
+Do learning's little tenement betray;
+Where sits the dame disguised in look profound,
+And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel around."
+
+The venerable little woman had lived in this house fourteen years.
+She was seventy-three years of age, and a native of Limerick. She
+was educated at St Ann's School, in Dublin, and she had lived
+fourteen years in the service of a lady in that city. The old dame
+made an effort to raise her feeble form when we entered, and she
+received us as courteously as the finest lady in the land could have
+done. She told us that she charged only a penny a-week for her
+teaching; but, said she, "some of them can't pay it." "There's a
+poor child," continued she, "his father has been out of work eleven
+months, and they are starving but for the relief. Still, I do get a
+little, and I like to have the children about me. Oh, my case is not
+the worst, I know. I have people lodging in the house who are not so
+well off as me. I have three families living here. One is a family
+of four; they have only 3s. a-week to live upon. Another is a family
+of three; they have 6s. a-week from a club, but they pay me 2s. a-
+week. for rent out of that. . . . . I am very much troubled with my
+eyes; my sight is failing fast. If I drop a stitch when I'm
+knitting, I can't see to take it up again. If I could buy a pair of
+spectacles, they would help me a good dale; but I cannot afford till
+times are better." I could not help thinking how many kind souls
+there are in the world who would be glad to give the old woman a
+pair of spectacles, if they knew her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+
+We talked with the old schoolmistress in Cunliffe Street till it was
+"high twelve" at noon, and then the kind jailer of learning's little
+prison-house let all her fretful captives go. The clamorous elves
+rushed through the doorway into the street, like a stream too big
+for its vent, rejoicing in their new-found freedom and the open face
+of day. The buzz of the little teaching mill was hushed once more,
+and the old dame laid her knitting down, and quietly wiped her weak
+and weary eyes. The daughters of music were brought low with her,
+but, in the last thin treble of second childhood, she trembled forth
+mild complaints of her neighbours' troubles, but very little of her
+own. We left her to enjoy her frugal meal and her noontide reprieve
+in peace, and came back to the middle of the town. On our way I
+noticed again some features of street life which are more common in
+manufacturing towns just now than when times are good. Now and then
+one meets with a man in the dress of a factory worker selling
+newspapers, or religious tracts, or back numbers of the penny
+periodicals, which do not cost much. It is easy to see, from their
+shy and awkward manner, that they are new to the trade, and do not
+like it. They are far less dexterous, and much more easily "said,"
+than the brisk young salesmen who hawk newspapers in the streets of
+Manchester. I know that many of these are unemployed operatives
+trying to make an honest penny in this manner till better days
+return. Now and then, too, a grown-up girl trails along the street,
+"with wandering steps and slow," ragged, and soiled, and starved,
+and looking as if she had travelled far in the rainy weather,
+houseless and forlorn. I know that such sights may be seen at any
+time, but not near so often as just now; and I cannot help thinking
+that many of these are poor sheep which have strayed away from the
+broken folds of labour. Sometimes it is an older woman that goes by,
+with a child at the breast, and one or two holding by the skirt of
+her tattered gown, and perhaps one or two more limping after, as she
+crawls along the pavement, gazing languidly from side to side among
+the heedless crowd, as if giving her last look round the world for
+help, without knowing where to get it, and without heart to ask for
+it. It is easy to give wholesale reasons why nobody needs to be in
+such a condition as this; but it is not improbable that there are
+some poor souls who, from no fault of their own, drop through the
+great sieve of charity into utter destitution. "They are well kept
+that God keeps." May the continual dew of Heaven's blessing gladden
+the hearts of those who deal kindly with them!
+
+After dinner I fell into company with some gentlemen who were
+talking about the coming guild--that ancient local festival, which
+is so clear to the people of Preston, that they are not likely to
+allow it to go by wholly unhonoured, however severe the times may
+be. Amongst them was a gray-haired friend of mine, who is a genuine
+humorist. He told us many quaint anecdotes. One of them was of a man
+who went to inquire the price of graves in a certain cemetery. The
+sexton told him that they were 1 pound on this side, and 2 pounds on
+the other side of the knoll. "How is it that they are 2 pounds on
+the other side?" inquired the man. "Well, becose there's a better
+view there," replied the sexton. There were three or four millowners
+in the company, and, when the conversation turned upon the state of
+trade, one of them said, "I admit that there is a great deal of
+distress, but we are not so badly off yet as to drive the operatives
+to work for reasonable wages. For instance, I had a labourer working
+for me at 10s. a-week; he threw up my employ, and went to work upon
+the moor for 1s. a-day. How do you account for that? And then,
+again, I had another man employed as a watchman and roller coverer,
+at 18s. a-week. I found that I couldn't afford to keep him on at
+18s., so I offered him 15s. a-week; but he left it, and went to work
+on the moor at 1s. a-day; and, just now, I want a man to take his
+place, and cannot get one." Another said, "I am only giving low
+wages to my workpeople, but they get more with me than they can make
+on the moor, and yet I cannot keep them." I heard some other things
+of the same kind, for which there might be special reasons; but
+these gentlemen admitted the general prevalence of severe distress,
+and the likelihood of its becoming much worse.
+
+At two o'clock I sallied forth again, under convoy of another member
+of the Relief Committee, into the neighbourhood of Messrs Horrocks,
+Miller, and Co.'s works. Their mill is known as "Th' Yard Factory."
+Hereabouts the people generally are not so much reduced as in some
+parts of the town, because they have had more employment, until
+lately, than has been common elsewhere. But our business lay with
+those distressed families who were in receipt of relief, and, even
+here, they were very easy to find. The first house we called at was
+inhabited by a family of five--man and wife and three children. The
+man was working on the moor at one shilling a-day. The wife was
+unwell, but she was moving about the house. They had buried one girl
+three weeks before; and one of the three remaining children lay ill
+of the measles. They had suffered a great deal from sickness. The
+wife said, "My husband is a peawer-loom weighver. He had to come
+whoam ill fro' his wark; an' then they shopped his looms, (gave his
+work to somebody else,) an' he couldn't get 'em back again. He'll
+get 'em back as soon as he con, yo may depend; for we don't want to
+bother folk for no mak o' relief no lunger than we can help." In
+addition to the husband's pay upon the moor, they were receiving 2s.
+a week from the Committee, making altogether 8s. a week for the
+five, with 2s. 6d. to pay out of it for rent. She said, "We would
+rayther ha' soup than coffee, becose there's moor heytin' in it." My
+friend looked in at the door of a cottage in Barton Street. There
+was a sickly-looking woman inside. "Well, missis," said my friend,
+jocularly, "how are you? because, if you're ill, I've brought a
+doctor here." "Eh," replied she, "aw could be ill in a minute, if aw
+could afford, but these times winnot ston doctors' bills. Besides,
+aw never were partial to doctors' physic; it's kitchen physic at aw
+want. Han yo ony o' that mak' wi' yo?" She said," My husban' were
+th' o'erlooker o' th'weighvers at "Owd Tom's.' They stopt to fettle
+th' engine a while back, an' they'n never started sin'. But aw guess
+they wi'n do some day." We had not many yards to go to the next
+place, which was a poor cottage in Fletcher's Row, where a family of
+eight persons resided. There was very little furniture in the place,
+but I noticed a small shelf of books in a corner by the window. A
+feeble woman, upwards of seventy years old, sat upon a stool tending
+the cradle of a sleeping infant. This infant was the youngest of
+five children, the oldest of the five was seven years of age. The
+mother of the three-weeks-old infant had just gone out to the mill
+to claim her work from the person who had been filling her place
+during her confinement. The old woman said that the husband was "a
+grinder in a card-room when they geet wed, an' he addled about 8s. a
+week; but, after they geet wed, his wife larn't him to weighve upo'
+th' peawer-looms." She said that she was no relation to them, but
+she nursed, and looked after the house for them. "They connot afford
+to pay mo nought," continued she, "but aw fare as they fare'n, an'
+they dunnot want to part wi' me. Aw'm not good to mich, but aw can
+manage what they wanten, yo see'n. Aw never trouble't noather teawn
+nor country i' my life, an' aw hope aw never shall for the bit o'
+time aw have to do on." She said that the Board of Guardians had
+allowed the family 10s. a week for the two first weeks of the wife's
+confinement, but now their income amounted to a little less than one
+shilling a head per week.
+
+Leaving this house, we turned round the corner into St Mary's Street
+North. Here we found a clean-looking young working man standing
+shivering by a cottage door, with his hands in his pockets. He was
+dressed in well-mended fustian, and he had a cloth cap on his head.
+His face had a healthy hunger-nipt look. "Hollo," said my friend, "I
+thought you was working on the moor." "Ay," replied the young man,
+"Aw have bin, but we'n bin rain't off this afternoon." "Is there
+nobody in?" said my friend. "Naw, my wife's gone eawt; hoo'll not be
+mony minutes. Hoo's here neaw." A clean little pale woman came up,
+with a child in her arms, and we went in. They had not much
+furniture in the small kitchen, which was the only place we saw, but
+everything was sweet and orderly. Their income was, as usual in
+relief cases, about one shilling a head per week. "You had some
+lodgers," said my friend. "Ay," said she,"but they're gone." "How's
+that?" "We had a few words. Their little lad was makin' a great
+noise i' the passage theer, an' aw were very ill o' my yed, an' aw
+towd him to go an' play him at tother side o' th' street,--so, they
+took it amiss, an' went to lodge wi' some folk i' Ribbleton Lone."
+
+We called at another house in this street. A family of six lived
+there. The only furniture I saw in the place was two chairs, a
+table, a large stool, a cheap clock, and a few pots. The man and his
+wife were in. She was washing. The man was a stiff built, shock-
+headed little fellow, with a squint in his eye that seemed to enrich
+the good-humoured expression of his countenance. Sitting smiling by
+the window, he looked as if he had lots of fun in him, if he only
+had a fair chance of letting it off. He told us that he was a
+"tackler" by trade. A tackler is one who fettles looms when they get
+out of order. "Couldn't you get on at Horrocks's?" said my friend.
+"Naw," replied he; "they'n not ha' men-weighvers theer." The wife
+said," We're a deal better off than some. He has six days a week upo
+th' moor, an' we'n 3s. a week fro th' Relief Committee. We'n 2s. 6d.
+a week to pay eawt on it for rent; but then, we'n a lad that gets
+4d. a day neaw an' then for puttin' bobbins on; an' every little
+makes a mickle, yo known." "How is it that your clock's stopt?" said
+I. "Nay," said the little fellow; "aw don't know. Want o' cotton,
+happen,--same as everything else is stopt for." Leaving this house
+we met with another member of the Relief Committee, who was
+overlooker of a mill a little way off. I parted here with the
+gentleman who had accompanied me hitherto, and the overlooker went
+on with me.
+
+In Newton Street he stopped, and said, "Let's look in here." We went
+up two steps, and met a young woman coming out at the cottage door.
+"How's Ruth?" said my friend. "Well, hoo is here. Hoo's busy bakin'
+for Betty." We went in. "You're not bakin' for yourselves, then?"
+said he. "Eh, naw," replied the young woman," it's mony a year sin'
+we had a bakin' o' fleawr, isn't it, Ruth?" The old woman who was
+baking turned round and said, "Ay; an' it'll be mony another afore
+we han one aw deawt." There were three dirty-looking hens picking
+and croodling about the cottage floor. "How is it you don't sell
+these, or else eat 'em?" said he. "Eh, dear," replied the old woman,
+"dun yo want mo kilt? He's had thoose hens mony a year; an' they
+rooten abeawt th' heawse just th' same as greadley Christians. He
+did gi' consent for one on 'em to be kilt yesterday; but aw'll be
+hanged iv th' owd cracky didn't cry like a chylt when he see'd it
+beawt yed. He'd as soon part wi' one o'th childer as one o'th hens.
+He says they're so mich like owd friends, neaw. He's as quare as
+Dick's hat-bant 'at went nine times reawnd an' wouldn't tee. . . .
+We thought we'd getten a shop for yon lad o' mine t'other day. We
+yerd ov a chap at Lytham at wanted a lad to tak care o' six
+jackasses an' a pony. Th' pony were to tak th' quality to Blackpool,
+and such like. So we fettled th' lad's bits o' clooas up and made
+him ever so daycent, and set him off to try to get on wi' th' chap
+at Lytham. Well, th' lad were i' good heart abeawt it; an' when he
+geet theer th' chap towd him at he thought he wur very likely for
+th' job, so that made it better,--an' th' lad begun o' wearin' his
+bit o' brass o' summat to eat, an' sich like, thinkin' he're sure o'
+th' shop. Well, they kept him there, dallyin', aw tell yo, an' never
+tellin' him a greadley tale, fro Sunday till Monday o' th' neet, an'
+then,--lo an' behold,--th' mon towd him that he'd hire't another;
+and th' lad had to come trailin' whoam again, quite deawn i'th'
+meawth. Eh, aw wur some mad! Iv aw'd been at th' back o' that chap,
+aw could ha' punce't him, see yo!" "Well," said my friend, "there's
+no work yet, Ruth, is there?" "Wark! naw; nor never will be no moor,
+aw believe." "Hello, Ruth!" said the young woman, pointing through
+the window, "dun yo know who yon is?" "Know? ay," replied the old
+woman; "He's getten aboon porritch neaw, has yon. He walks by me
+i'th street, as peart as a pynot, an' never cheeps. But, he's no
+'casion. Aw know'd him when his yure stickt out at top ov his hat;
+and his shurt would ha' hanged eawt beheend, too,--like a Wigan
+lantron,--iv he'd had a shurt."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+
+"Oh, reason not the deed; our basest beggars
+Are in the poorest things superfluous:
+Allow not nature more than nature needs,
+Man's life is cheap as beast's."
+--King Lear.
+
+A short fit of rain came on whilst we were in the cottage in Newton
+Street, so we sat a little while with Ruth, listening to her quaint
+tattle about the old man and his feathered pets; about the children,
+the hard times, and her own personal ailments;--for, though I could
+not help thinking her a very good-hearted, humorous old woman,
+bravely disposed to fight it out with the troubles of her humble
+lot, yet it was clear that she was inclined to ease her harassed
+mind now and then by a little wholesome grumbling; and I dare say
+that sometimes she might lose her balance so far as to think, like
+"Natterin' Nan," "No livin' soul atop o't earth's bin tried as I've
+bin tried: there's nob'dy but the Lord an' me that knows what I've
+to bide."
+
+Old age and infirmity, too, had found Ruth out, in her penurious
+obscurity; and she was disposed to complain a little, like Nan,
+sometimes, of "the ills that flesh is heir to:"-
+
+"Fro' t' wind i't stomach, rheumatism,
+Tengin pains i't gooms,
+An' coughs, an' cowds, an' t' spine o't back,
+I suffer martyrdom.
+
+"Yet nob'dy pities mo, or thinks
+I'm ailin' owt at all;
+T' poor slave mun tug an' tew wi't wark,
+Wolivver shoo can crawl."
+
+Old Ruth was far from being as nattle and querulous as the famous
+ill-natured grumbler so racily pictured by Benjamin Preston, of
+Bradford; but, like most of the dwellers upon earth, she was a
+little bit touched with the same complaint. When the rain was over,
+we came away. I cannot say that the weather ever "cleared up" that
+day; for, at the end of every shower, the dark, slow-moving clouds
+always seemed to be mustering for another downfall. We came away,
+and left the "cant" old body "busy bakin' for Betty," and "shooing"
+the hens away from her feet, and she shuffled about the house. A few
+yards lower in Newton Street, we turned up a low, dark entry, which
+led to a gloomy little court behind. This was one of those
+unhealthy, pent-up cloisters, where misery stagnates and broods
+among the "foul congregation of pestilential vapours" which haunt
+the backdoor life of the poorest parts of great towns. Here, those
+viewless ministers of health--the fresh winds of heaven--had no free
+play; and poor human nature inhaled destruction from the poisonous
+effluvia that festered there. And, in such nooks as this, there may
+be found many decent working people, who have been accustomed to
+live a cleanly life in their humble way in healthy quarters, now
+reduced to extreme penury, pinching, and pining, and nursing the
+flickering hope of better days, which may enable them to flee from
+the foul harbour which strong necessity has driven them to. The dark
+aspect of the day filled the court with a tomb-like gloom. If I
+remember aright, there were only three or four cottages in it. We
+called at two of them. Before we entered the first, my friend said,
+"A young couple lives here. They are very decent people. They have
+not been here long; and they have gone through a great deal before
+they came here." There were two or three pot ornaments on the
+cornice; but there was no furniture in the place, save one chair,
+which was occupied by a pale young woman, nursing her child. Her
+thin, intelligent face looked very sad. Her clothing, though poor,
+was remarkably clean; and, as she sat there, in the gloomy, fireless
+house, she said very little, and what she said she said very
+quietly, as if she had hardly strength to complain, and was even
+half-ashamed to do so. She told us, however, that her husband had
+been out of work six months. "He didn't know what to turn to after
+we sowd th' things," said she; "but he's takken to cheer-bottomin',
+for he doesn't want to lie upo' folk for relief, if he can help it.
+He doesn't get much above a cheer, or happen two in a week, one week
+wi' another, an' even then he doesn't olez get paid, for folks ha'
+not brass. It runs very hard with us, an' I'm nobbut sickly." The
+poor soul did not need to say much; her own person, which evinced
+such a touching struggle to keep up a decent appearance to the last,
+and everything about her, as she sat there in the gloomy place,
+trying to keep the child warm upon her cold breast, told eloquently
+what her tongue faltered at and failed to express.
+
+The next place we called at in this court was a cottage kept by a
+withered old woman, with one foot in the grave. We found her in the
+house, sallow, and shrivelled, and panting for breath. She had three
+young women, out of work, lodging with her; and, in addition to
+these, a widow with her two children lived there. One of these
+children, a girl, was earning 2s. 6d. a week for working short time
+at a mill; the other, a lad, was earning 3s. a week. The rest were
+all unemployed, and had been so for several months past. This 5s.
+6d. a week was all the seven people had to live upon, with the
+exception of a trifle the sickly old woman received from the Board
+of Guardians. As we left the court, two young fellows were lounging
+at the entry end, as if waiting for us. One of them stepped up to my
+friend, and whispered something plaintively, pointing to his feet. I
+did not catch the reply; but my friend made a note, and we went on.
+Before we had gone many yards down the street a storm of rain and
+thunder came on, and we hurried into the house of an old Irishwoman
+close by. My friend knew the old woman. She was on his list of
+relief cases. "Will you let us shelter a few minutes, Mrs _?" said
+he. "I will, an' thank ye," replied she. "Come in an' sit down.
+Sure, it's not fit to turn out a dog. Faith, that's a great storm.
+Oh, see the rain! Thank God it's not him that made the house that
+made the pot! Dear, dear; did ye see the awful flash that time? I
+don't like to be by myself, I am so terrified wi' the thunder. There
+has been a great dale o' wet this long time." "There, has," replied
+my friend; "but how have ye been getting on since I called before?"
+"Well," said the old woman, sitting down, "things is quare with us
+as ever they can be, an' that you know very well." There was a young
+woman reared against the table by the window. My friend turned
+towards her, and said, "Well, and how does the Indian meal agree
+with you?" The young woman blushed, and smiled, but said nothing;
+but the old woman turned sharply round and replied, "Well, now, it
+is better nor starvation; it is chape, an' it fills up--an' that's
+all." "Is your son working?" inquired my friend. "Troth, he is,"
+replied she. "He does be gettin' a day now an' again at the breek-
+croft in Ribbleton Lone. Faith, it is time he did somethin', too,
+for he was nine months out o' work entirely. I am got greatly into
+debt, an' I don't think I'll ever be able to get over it any more. I
+don't know how does poor folk be able to spind money on drink such
+times as thim; bedad, I cannot do it. It is bard enough to get mate
+of any kind to keep the bare life in a body. Oh, see now; but for
+the relief, the half o' the country would die out." "You're a native
+of Ireland, missis," said I. "Troth, I am," replied she; "an' had a
+good farm o' greawnd in it too, one time. Ah! many's the dark day I
+went through between that an' this. Before thim bad times came on,
+long ago, people were well off in ould Ireland. I seen them wid as
+many as tin cows standin' at the door at one time. . . . Ah, then!
+but the Irish people is greatly scattered now! . . . But, for the
+matter of that, folk are as badly off here as anywhere in the world,
+I think. I dunno know how does poor folk be able to spind money for
+dhrink. I am a widow this seventeen year now, an' the divle a man or
+woman uvver seen me goin' to a public-house. I seen women goin' a
+drinkin' widout a shift to their backs. I dunno how the divvle they
+done it. Begorra, I think, if I drunk a glass of ale just now, my
+two legs would fail from under me immadiately--I am that wake." The
+old woman was a little too censorious, I think. There is no doubt
+that even people who are starving do drink a little sometimes. The
+wonder would be if they did not, in some degree, share the follies
+of the rest of the world. Besides, it is a well-known fact, that
+those who are in employ, are apt, from a feeling of misdirected
+kindness, to treat those who are out of work to a glass of ale or
+two, now and then; and it is very natural, too, that those who have
+been but ill-fed for a long time are not able to stand it well.
+
+After leaving the old Irishwoman's house, we called upon a man who
+had got his living by the sale of newspapers. There was nothing
+specially worthy of remark in this case, except that he complained
+of his trade having fallen away a good deal. "I used to sell three
+papers where I now sell one," said he. This may not arise from there
+being fewer papers sold, but from there being more people selling
+them than when times were good. I came back to Manchester in the
+evening. I have visited Preston again since then, and have spent
+some time upon Preston Moor, where there are nearly fifteen hundred
+men, principally factory operatives, at work. Of this I shall have
+something to say in my next paper.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+
+"The rose of Lancaster for lack of nurture pales."
+--BLACKBURN BARD.
+
+It was early on a fine morning in July when I next set off to see
+Preston again; the long-continued rains seemed to be ended, and the
+unclouded sun flooded all the landscape with splendour. All nature
+rejoiced in the change, and the heart of man was glad. In Clifton
+Vale, the white-sleeved mowers were at work among the rich grass,
+and the scent of new hay came sweetly through our carriage windows.
+In the leafy cloughs and hedges, the small birds were wild with joy,
+and every garden sent forth a goodly smell. Along its romantic vale
+the glittering Irwell meandered, here, through nooks, "o'erhung wi'
+wildwoods, thickening green;" and there, among lush unshaded
+pastures; gathering on its way many a mild whispering brook, whose
+sunlit waters laced the green land with freakish lines of trembling
+gold. To me this ride is always interesting, so many points of
+historic interest line the way; but it was doubly delightful on that
+glorious July morning. And I never saw Fishergate, in Preston, look
+better than it did then. On my arrival there I called upon the
+Secretary of the Trinity Ward Relief Committee. In a quiet bye-
+street, where there are four pleasant cottages, with little gardens
+in front of them, I found him in his studious nook, among books,
+relief tickets, and correspondence. We had a few minutes' talk about
+the increasing distress of the town; and he gave me a short account
+of the workroom which has been opened in Knowsley Street, for the
+employment of female factory operatives out of work. This workroom
+is managed by a committee of ladies, some of whom are in attendance
+every day. The young women are employed upon plain sewing. They have
+two days' work a week, at one shilling a day, and the Relief
+Committee adds sixpence to this 2s. in each case. Most of them are
+merely learning to sew. Many of them prove to be wholly untrained to
+this simple domestic accomplishment. The work is not remunerative,
+nor is it expected to be so; but the benefit which may grow out of
+the teaching which these young women get here--and the evil their
+employment here may prevent, cannot be calculated. I find that such
+workrooms are established in some of the other towns now suffering
+from the depression of trade. Some of these I intend to visit
+hereafter. I spent an interesting half-hour with the secretary,
+after which I went to see the factory operatives at work upon
+Preston Moor.
+
+Preston Moor is a tract of waste land on the western edge of the
+town. It belongs to the corporation. A little vale runs through a
+great part of this moor, from south-east to north-west; and the
+ground was, until lately, altogether uneven. On the town side of the
+little dividing vale the land is a light, sandy soil; on the other
+side, there is abundance of clay for brickmaking. Upon this moor
+there are now fifteen hundred men, chiefly factory operatives, at
+work, levelling the land for building purposes, and making a great
+main sewer for the drainage of future streets. The men, being almost
+all unused to this kind of labour, are paid only one shilling per
+day; and the whole scheme has been devised for the employment of
+those who are suffering from the present depression of trade. The
+work had been going on several months before I saw it, and a great
+part of the land was levelled. When I came in sight of the men,
+working in scattered gangs that fine morning, there was, as might be
+expected, a visible difference between their motions and those of
+trained "navvies" engaged upon the same kind of labour. There were
+also very great differences of age and physical condition amongst
+them--old men and consumptive-looking lads, hardly out of their
+teens. They looked hard at me as I walked down the central line, but
+they were not anyway uncivil. "What time is 't, maister?" asked a
+middle-aged man, with gray hair, as he wiped his forehead. "Hauve-
+past ten," said I. "What time says he?" inquired a feeble young
+fellow, who was resting upon his barrow. "Hauve-past ten, he says,"
+replied the other. "Eh; it's warm!" said the tired lad, lying down
+upon his barrow again. One thing I noticed amongst these men, with
+very rare exceptions, their apparel, however poor, evinced that
+wholesome English love of order and cleanliness which generally
+indicates something of self-respect in the wearer--especially among
+poor folk. There is something touching in the whiteness of a well-
+worn shirt, and the careful patches of a poor man's old fustian
+coat.
+
+As I lounged about amongst the men, a mild-eyed policeman came up,
+and offered to conduct me to Jackson, the labour-master, who had
+gone down to the other end of the moor, to look after the men at
+work at the great sewer--a wet clay cutting--the heaviest bit of
+work on the ground. We passed some busy brickmakers, all plastered
+and splashed with wet clay --of the earth, earthy. Unlike the
+factory operatives around them, these men clashed, and kneaded, and
+sliced among the clay, as if they were working for a wager. But they
+were used to the job, and working piece-work. A little further on,
+we came to an unbroken bit of the moor. Here, on a green slope we
+saw a poor lad sitting chirruping upon the grass, with a little
+cloutful of groundsel for bird meat in his hand, watching another,
+who was on his knees, delving for earth-nuts with an old knife.
+Lower down the slope there were three other lads plaguing a young
+jackass colt; and further off, on the town edge of the moor, several
+children from the streets hard by, were wandering about the green
+hollow, picking daisies, and playing together in the sunshine. There
+are several cotton factories close to the moor, but they were quiet
+enough. Whilst I looked about me here, the policeman pointed to the
+distance and said, "Jackson's comin' up, I see. Yon's him, wi' th'
+white lin' jacket on." Jackson seems to have won the esteem of the
+men upon the moor by his judicious management and calm
+determination. I have heard that he had a little trouble at first,
+through an injurious report spread amongst the men immediately
+before he undertook the management. Some person previously employed
+upon the ground had "set it eawt that there wur a chap comin' that
+would make 'em addle a hauve-a-creawn a day for their shillin'." Of
+course this increased the difficulty of his position; but he seems
+to have fought handsomely through all that sort of thing. I had met
+him for a few minutes once before, so there was no difficulty
+between us.
+
+"Well, Jackson," said I, "heaw are yo gettin' on among it?" "Oh,
+very well, very well," said he," We'n more men at work than we had,
+an' we shall happen have more yet. But we'n getten things into
+something like system, an' then tak 'em one with another th' chaps
+are willin' enough. You see they're not men that have getten a
+livin' by idling aforetime; they're workin' men, but they're strange
+to this job, an' one cannot expect 'em to work like trained honds,
+no moor than one could expect a lot o' navvies to work weel at
+factory wark. Oh, they done middlin', tak 'em one with another." I
+now asked him if he had not had some trouble with the men at first.
+"Well," said he, "I had at first, an' that's the truth. I remember
+th' first day that I came to th' job. As I walked on to th' ground
+there was a great lump o' clay coom bang into my earhole th' first
+thing; but I walked on, an' took no notice, no moor than if it had
+bin a midge flyin' again my face. Well, that kind o' thing took
+place, now an' then, for two or three days, but I kept agate o'
+never mindin'; till I fund there were some things that I thought
+could be managed a deal better in a different way; so I gav' th' men
+notice that I would have 'em altered. For instance, now, when I coom
+here at first, there was a great shed in yon hollow; an' every
+mornin' th' men had to pass through that shed one after another, an'
+have their names booked for th' day. The result wur, that after
+they'd walked through th' shed, there was many on 'em walked out at
+t'other end o' th' moor straight into teawn a-playin' 'em. Well, I
+was determined to have that system done away with. An', when th' men
+fund that I was gooin' to make these alterations, they growled a
+good deal, you may depend, an' two or three on 'em coom up an' spoke
+to me abeawt th' matter, while tother stood clustered a bit off.
+Well; I was beginnin' to tell 'em plain an' straight-forrud what I
+would have done, when one o' these three sheawted out to th' whole
+lot, "Here, chaps, come an' gether reawnd th' devil. Let's yer what
+he's for!" 'Well,' said I, 'come on, an' you shall yer,' for aw felt
+cawmer just then, than I did when it were o'er. There they were,
+gethered reawnd me in a minute,--th' whole lot,--I were fair hemmed
+in. But I geet atop ov a bit ov a knowe, an' towd 'em a fair tale,--
+what I wanted, an' what I would have, an' I put it to 'em whether
+they didn't consider it reet. An' I believe they see'd th' thing in
+a reet leet, but they said nought about it, but went back to their
+wark, lookin' sulky. But I've had very little bother with 'em sin'.
+I never see'd a lot o' chaps so altered sin' th' last February, as
+they are. At that time no mortal mon hardly could walk through 'em
+'beawt havin' a bit o' slack-jaw, or a lump o' clay or summat flung
+a-him. But it isn't so, neaw. I consider th' men are doin' very
+weel. But, come; yo mun go deawn wi' me a-lookin' at yon main
+sewer."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+
+"Oh, let us bear the present as we may,
+Nor let the golden past be all forgot;
+Hope lifts the curtain of the future day,
+Where peace and plenty smile without a spot
+On their white garments; where the human lot
+Looks lovelier and less removed from heaven;
+Where want, and war, and discord enter not,
+But that for which the wise have hoped and striven--
+The wealth of happiness, to humble worth is given.
+
+"The time will come, as come again it must,
+When Lancashire shall lift her head once more;
+Her suffering sons, now down amid the dust
+Of Indigence, shall pass through Plenty's door;
+Her commerce cover seas from shore to shore;
+Her arts arise to highest eminence;
+Her products prove unrivall'd, as of yore;
+Her valour and her virtue--men of sense
+And blue-eyed beauties--England's pride and her defence."
+--BLACKBURN BARD.
+
+Jackson's office as labour-master kept him constantly tramping about
+the sandy moor from one point to another. He was forced to be in
+sight, and on the move, during working hours, amongst his fifteen
+hundred scattered workmen. It was heavy walking, even in dry
+weather; and as we kneaded through the loose soil that hot forenoon,
+we wiped our foreheads now and then. "Ay," said he, halting, and
+looking round upon the scene, "I can assure you, that when I first
+took howd o' this job, I fund my honds full, as quiet as it looks
+now. I was laid up for nearly a week, an' I had to have two doctors.
+But, as I'd undertakken the thing, I was determined to go through
+with it to th' best o' my ability; an' I have confidence now that we
+shall be able to feight through th' bad time wi' summat like
+satisfaction, so far as this job's consarned, though it's next to
+impossible to please everybody, do what one will. But come wi' me
+down this road. I've some men agate o' cuttin' a main sewer. It's
+very little farther than where th' cattle pens are i' th' hollow
+yonder; and it's different wark to what you see here. Th' main sewer
+will have to be brought clean across i' this direction, an' it'll be
+a stiffish job. Th' cattle market's goin' to be shifted out o' yon
+hollow, an' in another year or two th' whole scene about here will
+be changed." Jackson and I both remembered something of the troubles
+of the cotton manufacture in past times. We had seen something of
+the "shuttle gatherings," the "plug-drawings," the wild starvation
+riots, and strikes of days gone by; and he agreed with me that one
+reason for the difference of their demeanour during the present
+trying circumstances lies in their increasing intelligence. The
+great growth of free discussion through the cheap press has done no
+little to work out this salutary change. There is more of human
+sympathy, and of a perception of the union of interests between
+employers and employed than ever existed before in the history of
+the cotton trade. Employers know that their workpeople are human
+beings, of like feelings and passions with themselves, and like
+themselves, endowed with no mean degree of independent spirit and
+natural intelligence; and working men know better than beforetime
+that their employers are not all the heartless tyrants which it has
+been too fashionable to encourage them to believe. The working men
+have a better insight into the real causes of trade panics than they
+used to have; and both masters and men feel more every day that
+their fortunes are naturally bound together for good or evil; and if
+the working men of Lancashire continue to struggle through the
+present trying pass of their lives with the brave patience which
+they have shown hitherto, they will have done more to defeat the
+arguments of those who hold them to be unfit for political power
+than the finest eloquence of their best friends could have done in
+the same time.
+
+The labour master and I had a little talk about these things as we
+went towards the lower end of the moor. A few minutes' slow walk
+brought us to the spot, where some twenty of the hardier sort of
+operatives were at work in a damp clay cutting. "This is heavy work
+for sich chaps as these," said Jackson; "but I let 'em work bi'th
+lump here. I give'em so much clay apiece to shift, and they can
+begin when they like, an' drop it th' same. Th' men seem satisfied
+wi' that arrangement, an' they done wonders, considerin' th' nature
+o'th job. There's many o'th men that come on to this moor are badly
+off for suitable things for their feet. I've had to give lots o'
+clogs away among'em. You see men cannot work with ony comfort among
+stuff o' this sort without summat substantial on. It rives poor
+shoon to pieces i' no time. Beside, they're not men that can ston
+bein' witchod (wetshod) like some. They haven't been used to it as a
+rule. Now, this is one o'th' finest days we've had this year; an'
+you haven't sin what th' ground is like in bad weather. But you'd be
+astonished what a difference wet makes on this moor. When it's bin
+rain for a day or two th' wark's as heavy again. Th' stuff's heavier
+to lift, an' worse to wheel; an' th' ground is slutchy. That tries
+'em up, an' poo's their shoon to pieces; an' men that are wakely get
+knocked out o' time with it. But thoose that can stand it get
+hardened by it. There's a great difference; what would do one man's
+constitution good will kill another. Winter time 'll try 'em up
+tightly. . . Wait there a bit," continued he, "I'll be with you
+again directly." He then went down into the cutting to speak to some
+of his men, whilst I walked about the edge of the bank. From a
+distant part of the moor, the bray of a jackass came faint upon the
+sleepy wind. "Yer tho', Jone," said one of the men, resting upon his
+spade; "another cally-weighver gone!" " Ay," replied Jone, "th' owd
+lad's deawn't his cut. He'll want no more tickets, yon mon!" The
+country folk of Lancashire say that a weaver dies every time a
+jackass brays. Jackson came up from the cutting, and we walked back
+to where the greatest number of men were at work. "You should ha'
+bin here last Saturday," said he; "we'd rather a curious scene. One
+o' the men coom to me an' axed if I'd allow 'em hauve-an-hour to
+howd a meetin' about havin' a procession i' th' guild week. I gav'
+'em consent, on condition that they'd conduct their meetin' in an
+orderly way. Well, they gethered together upo' that level theer; an'
+th' speakers stood upo' th' edge o' that cuttin', close to Charnock
+Fowd. Th' meetin' lasted abeawt a quarter ov an hour longer than I
+bargained for; but they lost no time wi' what they had to do. O'
+went off quietly; an' they finished with 'Rule Britannia,' i' full
+chorus, an' then went back to their wark. You'll see th' report in
+today's paper."
+
+This meeting was so curious, and so characteristic of the men, that
+I think the report is worth repeating here:--"On Saturday afternoon,
+a meeting of the parish labourers was held on the moor, to consider
+the propriety of having a demonstration of their numbers on one day
+in the guild week. There were upwards of a thousand present. An
+operative, named John Houlker, was elected to conduct the
+proceedings. After stating the object of the assembly, a series of
+propositions were read to the meeting by William Gillow, to the
+effect that a procession take place of the parish labourers in the
+guild week; that no person be allowed to join in it except those
+whose names were on the books of the timekeepers; that no one should
+receive any of the benefits which might accrue who did not conduct
+himself in an orderly manner; that all persons joining the
+procession should be required to appear on the ground washed and
+shaven, and their clogs, shoes, and other clothes cleaned; that they
+were not expected to purchase or redeem any articles of clothing in
+order to take part in the demonstration; and that any one absenting
+himself from the procession should be expelled from any
+participation in the advantages which might arise from the
+subscriptions to be collected by their fellow-labourers. These were
+all agreed to, and a committee of twelve was appointed to collect
+subscriptions and donations. A president, secretary, and treasurer
+were also elected, and a number of resolutions agreed to in
+reference to the carrying out of the details of their scheme. The
+managing committee consist of Messrs W. Gillow, Robert Upton, Thomas
+Greenwood Riley, John Houlker, John Taylor, James Ray, James
+Whalley, Wm. Banks, Joseph Redhead, James Clayton, and James
+McDermot. The men agreed to subscribe a penny per week to form a
+fund out of which a dinner should be provided, and they expressed
+themselves confident that they could secure the gratuitous services
+of a band of music. During the meeting there was great order. At the
+conclusion, a vote of thanks was accorded to the chairman, to the
+labour master for granting them three-quarters of an hour for the
+purpose of holding the meeting, and to William Gillow for drawing up
+the resolutions. Three times three then followed; after which,
+George Dewhurst mounted a hillock, and, by desire, sang 'Rule
+Britannia,' the chorus being taken up by the whole crowd, and the
+whole being wound up with a hearty cheer." There are various schemes
+devised in Preston for regaling the poor during the guild; and not
+the worst of them is the proposal to give them a little extra money
+for that week, so as to enable them to enjoy the holiday with their
+families at home.
+
+It was now about half-past eleven. "It's getting on for dinner
+time," said Jackson, looking at his watch. "Let's have a look at th'
+opposite side yonder; an' then we'll come back, an' you'll see th'
+men drop work when the five minutes' bell rings. There's many of 'em
+live so far off that they couldn't well get whoam an' back in an
+hour; so, we give'em an hour an' a half to their dinner, now, an'
+they work half an' hour longer i'th afternoon." We crossed the
+hollow which divides the moor, and went to the top of a sandy
+cutting at the rear of the workhouse. This eminence commanded a full
+view of the men at work on different parts of the ground, with the
+time-keepers going to and fro amongst them, book in hand. Here were
+men at work with picks and spades; there, a slow-moving train of
+full barrows came along; and, yonder, a train of empty barrows
+stood, with the men sitting upon them, waiting. Jackson pointed out
+some of his most remarkable men to me; after which we went up to a
+little plot of ground behind the workhouse, where we found a few
+apparently older or weaker men, riddling pebbly stuff, brought from
+the bed of the Ribble. The smaller pebbles were thrown into heaps,
+to make a hard floor for the workhouse schoolyard. The master of the
+workhouse said that the others were too big for this purpose--the
+lads would break the windows with them. The largest pebbles were
+cast aside to be broken up, for the making of garden walks. Whilst
+the master of the workhouse was showing us round the building,
+Jackson looked at his watch again, and said, "Come, we've just time
+to get across again. Th' bell will ring in two or three minutes, an'
+I should like yo to see 'em knock off." We hurried over to the other
+side, and, before we had been a minute there, the bell rung. At the
+first toll, down dropt the barrows, the half-flung shovelfuls fell
+to the ground, and all labour stopt as suddenly as if the men had
+been moved by the pull of one string. In two minutes Preston Moor
+was nearly deserted, and, like the rest, we were on our way to
+dinner.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+
+AMONG THE WIGAN OPERATIVES
+
+"There'll be some on us missin', aw deawt,
+Iv there isn't some help for us soon."
+--SAMUEL LAYCOCK.
+
+The next scene of my observations is the town of Wigan. The
+temporary troubles now affecting the working people of Lancashire
+wear a different aspect there on account of such a large proportion
+of the population being employed in the coal mines. The "way of
+life" and the characteristics of the people are marked by strong
+peculiarities. But, apart from these things, Wigan is an interesting
+place. The towns of Lancashire have undergone so much change during
+the last fifty years that their old features are mostly either swept
+away entirely, or are drowned in a great overgrowth of modern
+buildings. Yet coaly Wigan retains visible relics of its ancient
+character still; and there is something striking in its situation.
+It is associated with some of the most stirring events of our
+history, and it is the scene of many an interesting old story, such
+as the legend of Mabel of Haigh Hall, the crusader's dame. The
+remnant of "Mab's Cross" still stands in Wigan Lane. Some of the
+finest old halls of Lancashire are now, and have been, in its
+neighbourhood, such as Ince Hall and Crooke Hall. It must have been
+a picturesque town in the time of the Commonwealth, when Cavaliers
+and Roundheads met there in deadly contention. Wigan saw a great
+deal of the troubles of that time. The ancient monument, erected to
+the memory of Colonel Tyldesley, upon the ground where he fell at
+the battle of Wigan Lane, only tells a little of the story of
+Longfellow's puritan hero, Miles Standish, who belonged to the
+Chorley branch of the family of Standish of Standish, near this
+town. The ingenious John Roby, author of the "Traditions of
+Lancashire," was born here. Round about the old market-place, and
+the fine parish church of St Wilfred, there are many quaint nooks
+still left to tell the tale of centuries gone by. These remarks,
+however, by the way. It is almost impossible to sunder any place
+entirely from the interest which such things lend to it.
+
+Our present business is with the share which Wigan feels of the
+troubles of our own time, and in this respect it is affected by some
+conditions peculiar to the place. I am told that Wigan was one of
+the first--if not the very first--of the towns of Lancashire to feel
+the nip of our present distress. I am told, also, that it was the
+first town in which a Relief Committee was organised. The cotton
+consumed here is almost entirely of the kind from ordinary to
+middling American, which is now the scarcest and dearest of any.
+Preston is almost wholly a spinning town. In Wigan there is a
+considerable amount of weaving as well as spinning. The counts spun
+in Wigan are lower than those in Preston; they range from 10's up to
+20's. There is also, as I have said before, another peculiar element
+of labour, which tends to give a strong flavour to the conditions of
+life in Wigan, that is, the great number of people employed in the
+coal mines. This, however, does not much lighten the distress which
+has fallen upon the spinners and weavers, for the colliers are also
+working short time--an average of four days a week. I am told, also,
+that the coal miners have been subject to so many disasters of
+various kinds during past years, that there is now hardly a
+collier's family which has not lost one or more of its most active
+members by accidents in the pits. About six years ago, the river
+Douglas broke into one of the Ince mines, and nearly two hundred
+people were drowned thereby. These were almost all buried on one
+day, and it was a very distressing scene. Everywhere in Wigan one
+may meet with the widows and orphans of men who have been killed in
+the mines; and there are no few men more or less disabled by
+colliery accidents, and, therefore, dependent either upon the
+kindness of their employers, or upon the labour of their families in
+the cotton factories. This last failing them, the result may be
+easily guessed. The widows and orphans of coal miners almost always
+fall back upon factory labour for a living; and, in the present
+state of things, this class of people forms a very helpless element
+of the general distress. These things I learnt during my brief visit
+to the town a few days ago. Hereafter, I shall try to acquaint
+myself more deeply and widely with the relations of life amongst the
+working people there.
+
+I had not seen Wigan during many years before that fine August
+afternoon. In the Main Street and Market Place there is no striking
+outward sign of distress, and yet here, as in other Lancashire
+towns, any careful eye may see that there is a visible increase of
+mendicant stragglers, whose awkward plaintiveness, whose helpless
+restraint and hesitancy of manner, and whose general appearance,
+tell at once that they belong to the operative classes now suffering
+in Lancashire. Beyond this, the sights I first noticed upon the
+streets, as peculiar to the place, were, here, two "Sisters of
+Mercy," wending along, in their black cloaks and hoods, with their
+foreheads and cheeks swathed in ghastly white bands, and with strong
+rough shoes upon their feet; and, there, passed by a knot of the
+women employed in the coal mines. The singular appearance of these
+women has puzzled many a southern stranger. All grimed with
+coaldust, they swing along the street with their dinner baskets and
+cans in their hands, chattering merrily. To the waist they are
+dressed like men, in strong trousers and wooden clogs. Their gowns,
+tucked clean up, before, to the middle, hang down behind them in a
+peaked tail. A limp bonnet, tied under the chin, makes up the head-
+dress. Their curious garb, though soiled, is almost always sound;
+and one can see that the wash-tub will reveal many a comely face
+amongst them. The dusky damsels are "to the manner born," and as
+they walk about the streets, thoughtless of singularity, the Wigan
+people let them go unheeded by. Before I had been two hours in the
+town, I was put into communication with one of the active members of
+the Relief Committee, who offered to devote a few hours of the
+following day to visitation with me, amongst the poor of a district
+called "Scholes," on the eastern edge of the town. Scholes is the
+"Little Ireland" of Wigan, the poorest quarter of the town. The
+colliers and factory operatives chiefly live there. There is a
+saying in Wigan --that, no man's education is finished until he has
+been through Scholes. Having made my arrangements for the next day,
+I went to stay for the night with a friend who lives in the green
+country near Orrell, three miles west of Wigan.
+
+Early next morning, we rode over to see the quaint town of
+Upholland, and its fine old church, with the little ivied monastic
+ruin close by. We returned thence, by way of "Orrell Pow," to Wigan,
+to meet my engagement at ten in the forenoon. On our way, we could
+not help noticing the unusual number of foot-sore, travel-soiled
+people, many of them evidently factory operatives, limping away from
+the town upon their melancholy wanderings. We could see, also, by
+the number of decrepid old women, creeping towards Wigan, and now
+and then stopping to rest by the wayside, that it was relief day at
+the Board of Guardians. At ten, I met the gentleman who had kindly
+offered to guide me for the day; and we set off together. There are
+three excellent rooms engaged by the good people of Wigan for the
+employment and teaching of the young women thrown out of work at the
+cotton mills. The most central of the three is the lecture theatre
+of the Mechanics' Institution. This room was the first place we
+visited. Ten o'clock is the time appointed for the young women to
+assemble. It was a few minutes past ten when we got to the place;
+and there were some twenty of the girls waiting about the door. They
+were barred out, on account of being behind time. The lasses seemed
+very anxious to get in; but they were kept there a few minutes till
+the kind old superintendent, Mr Fisher, made his appearance. After
+giving the foolish virgins a gentle lecture upon the value of
+punctuality, he admitted them to the room. Inside, there were about
+three hundred and fifty girls mustered that morning. They are
+required to attend four hours a day on four days of the week, and
+they are paid 9d. a day for their attendance. They are divided into
+classes, each class being watched over by some lady of the
+committee. Part of the time each day is set apart for reading and
+writing; the rest of the day is devoted to knitting and plain
+sewing. The business of each day begins with the reading of the
+rules, after which, the names are called over. A girl in a white
+pinafore, upon the platform, was calling over the names when we
+entered. I never saw a more comely, clean, and orderly assembly
+anywhere. I never saw more modest demeanour, nor a greater
+proportion of healthy, intelligent faces in any company of equal
+numbers.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+
+"Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two white herrings.
+Croak not, black angel; I have no food for thee."
+--King Lear.
+
+I lingered a little while in the work-room, at the Mechanics'
+Institution, interested in the scene. A stout young woman came in at
+a side door, and hurried up to the centre of the room with a great
+roll of coarse gray cloth, and lin check, to be cut up for the
+stitchers. One or two of the classes were busy with books and
+slates; the remainder of the girls were sewing and knitting; and the
+ladies of the committee were moving about, each in quiet
+superintendence of her own class. The room was comfortably full,
+even on the platform; but there was very little noise, and no
+disorder at all. I say again that I never saw a more comely, clean,
+and well conducted assembly than this of three hundred and fifty
+factory lasses. I was told, however, that even these girls show a
+kind of pride of caste amongst one another. The human heart is much
+the same in all conditions of life. I did not stay long enough to be
+able to say more about this place; but one of the most active and
+intelligent ladies connected with the management said to me
+afterwards, "Your wealthy manufacturers and merchants must leave a
+great deal of common stuff lying in their warehouses, and perhaps
+not very saleable just now, which would be much more valuable to us
+here than ever it will be to them. Do you think they would like to
+give us a little of it if we were to ask them nicely?" I said I
+thought there were many of them who would do so; and I think I said
+right.
+
+After a little talk with the benevolent old superintendent, whose
+heart, I am sure, is devoted to the business for the sake of the
+good it will do, and the evil it will prevent, I set off with my
+friend to see some of the poor folk who live in the quarter called
+"Scholes." It is not more than five hundred yards from the
+Mechanics' Institution to Scholes Bridge, which crosses the little
+river Douglas, down in a valley in the eastern part of the town. As
+soon as we were at the other end of the bridge, we turned off at the
+right hand corner into a street of the poorest sort--a narrow old
+street, called "Amy Lane." A few yards on the street we came to a
+few steps, which led up, on the right hand side, to a little terrace
+of poor cottages, overlooking the river Douglas. We called at one of
+these cottages. Though rather disorderly just then, it was not an
+uncomfortable place. It was evidently looked after by some homely
+dame. A clean old cat dosed upon a chair by the fireside. The bits
+of cottage furniture, though cheap, and well worn, were all there;
+and the simple household gods, in the shape of pictures and
+ornaments, were in their places still. A hardy-looking, brown-faced
+man, with close-cropped black hair, and a mild countenance, sat on a
+table by the window, making artificial flies, for fishing. In the
+corner over his head a cheap, dingy picture of the trial of Queen
+Catherine, hung against the wall. I could just make out the tall
+figure of the indignant queen, in the well-known theatrical
+attitude, with her right arm uplifted, and her sad, proud face
+turned away from the judgment-seat, where Henry sits, evidently
+uncomfortable in mind, as she gushes forth that bold address to her
+priestly foes and accusers. The man sitting beneath the picture,
+told us that he was a throstle-overlooker by trade; and that he had
+been nine months out of work. He said, "There's five on us here when
+we're i'th heawse. When th' wark fell off I had a bit o' brass
+save't up, so we were forced to start o' usin' that. But month after
+month went by, an' th' brass kept gettin' less, do what we would;
+an' th' times geet wur, till at last we fund ersels fair stagged up.
+At after that, my mother helped us as weel as hoo could,--why, hoo
+does neaw, for th' matter o' that, an' then aw've three brothers,
+colliers; they've done their best to poo us through. But they're
+nobbut wortchin' four days a week, neaw; besides they'n enough to do
+for their own. Aw make no acceawnt o' slotchin' up an' deawn o' this
+shap, like a foo. It would sicken a dog, it would for sure. Aw go a
+fishin' a bit neaw an' then; an' aw cotter abeawt wi' first one
+thing an' then another; but it comes to no sense. Its noan like
+gradely wark. It makes me maunder up an' deawn, like a gonnor wi' a
+nail in it's yed. Aw wish to God yon chaps in Amerikey would play
+th' upstroke, an' get done wi' their bother, so as folk could start
+o' their wark again." This was evidently a provident man, who had
+striven hard to get through his troubles decently. His position as
+overlooker, too, made him dislike the thoughts of receiving relief
+amongst the operatives whom he might some day be called upon to
+superintend again.
+
+A little higher up in Amy Lane we came to a kind of square. On the
+side where the lane continues there is a dead brick wall; on the
+other side, bounding a little space of unpaved ground, rather higher
+than the lane, there are a few old brick cottages, of very mean and
+dirty appearance. At the doors of some of the cottages squalid,
+untidy women were lounging; some of them sitting upon the doorstep,
+with their elbows on their knees, smoking, and looking stolidly
+miserable. We were now getting near where the cholera made such
+havoc during its last visit,--a pestilent jungle, where disease is
+always prowling about, "seeking whom it can devour." A few sallow,
+dirty children were playing listlessly about the space, in a
+melancholy way, looking as if their young minds were already
+"sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought," and unconsciously
+oppressed with wonder why they should be born to such a miserable
+share of human life as this. A tall, gaunt woman, with pale face,
+and thinly clad in a worn and much-patched calico gown, and with a
+pair of "trashes" upon her stockingless feet, sat on the step of the
+cottage nearest the lane. The woman rose when she saw my friend.
+"Come in," said she; and we followed her into the house. It was a
+wretched place; and the smell inside was sickly. I should think a
+broker would not give half-a-crown for all the furniture we saw. The
+woman seemed simple-minded and very illiterate; and as she stood in
+the middle of the floor, looking vaguely round she said, "Aw can
+hardly ax yo to sit deawn, for we'n sowd o' th' things eawt o'th
+heawse for a bit o' meight; but there is a cheer theer, sich as it
+is; see yo; tak' that." When she found that I wished to know
+something of her condition--although this was already well known to
+the gentleman who accompanied me--she began to tell her story in a
+simple, off-hand way. "Aw've had nine childer," said she; "we'n
+buried six, an' we'n three alive, an' aw expect another every day."
+In one corner there was a rickety little low bedstead. There was no
+bedding upon it but a ragged kind of quilt, which covered the
+ticking. Upon this quilt something lay, like a bundle of rags,
+covered with a dirty cloth. "There's one o' th' childer, lies here,
+ill," said she. "It's getten' th' worm fayver." When she uncovered
+that little emaciated face, the sick child gazed at me with wild,
+burning eyes, and began to whine pitifully. "Husht, my love," said
+the poor woman; "he'll not hurt tho'! Husht, now; he's noan beawn to
+touch tho'! He's noan o'th doctor, love. Come, neaw, husht; that's a
+good lass!" I gave the little thing a penny, and one way and another
+we soothed her fears, and she became silent; but the child still
+gazed at me with wild eyes, and the forecast of death on its thin
+face. The mother began again, "Eh, that little thing has suffered
+summat," said she, wiping her eyes; "an', as aw towd yo before, aw
+expect another every day. They're born nake't, an' th' next'll ha'
+to remain so, for aught that aw con see. But, aw dar not begin o'
+thinkin' abeawt it. It would drive me crazy. We han a little lad o'
+mi sister's livin' wi' us. Aw had to tak' him when his mother deed.
+Th' little thing's noather feyther nor mother, neaw. It's gwon eawt
+a beggin' this morning wi' my two childer. My mother lives with us,
+too," continued she; "hoo's gooin' i' eighty-four, an' hoo's
+eighteen pence a week off th' teawn. There's seven on us,
+o'together, an' we'n had eawr share o' trouble, one way an' another,
+or else aw'm chetted. Well, aw'll tell yo' what happened to my
+husban' o' i' two years' time. My husban's a collier. Well, first he
+wur brought whoam wi' three ribs broken--aw wur lyin' in when they
+brought him whoam. An' then, at after that, he geet his arm broken;
+an' soon after he'd getten o'er that, he wur nearly brunt to deeath
+i' one o'th pits at Ratcliffe; an' aw haven't quite done yet, for,
+after that, he lee ill o'th rheumatic fayver sixteen week. That o'
+happen't i' two years' time. It's God's truth, maister. Mr Lea knows
+summat abeawt it--an' he stons theer. Yo may have a like aim what
+we'n had to go through. An' that wur when times were'n good; but
+then, everything o' that sort helps to poo folk deawn, yo known.
+We'n had very hard deed, maister--aw consider we'n had as hard deed
+as anybody livin', takkin' o' together." This case was an instance
+of the peculiar troubles to which colliers and their families are
+liable; a little representative bit of life among the poor of Wigan.
+From this place we went further up into Scholes, to a dirty square,
+called the "Coal Yard." Here we called at the house of Peter Y_, a
+man of fifty-one, and a weaver of a kind of stuff called, "broad
+cross-over," at which work he earned about six shillings a week,
+when in full employ. His wife was a cripple, unable to help herself;
+and, therefore, necessarily a burden. Their children were two girls,
+and one boy. The old woman said, "Aw'm always forced to keep one
+o'th lasses a-whoam, for aw connot do a hond's turn." The children
+had been brought up to factory labour; but both they and their
+father had been out of work nearly twelve months. During that time
+the family had received relief tickets, amounting to the value of
+four shillings a week. Speaking of the old man, the mother said,
+"Peter has just getten a bit o' wark again, thank God. He's hardly
+fit for it; but he'll do it as lung as he can keep ov his feet."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+
+"Lord! how the people suffer day by day
+A lingering death, through lack of honest bread;
+And yet are gentle on their starving way,
+By faith in future good and justice led."
+--BLACKBURN BARD.
+
+It is a curious thing to note the various combinations of
+circumstance which exist among the families of the poor. On the
+surface they seem much the same; and they are reckoned up according
+to number, income, and the like. But there are great differences of
+feeling and cultivation amongst them; and then, every household has
+a story of its own, which no statistics can tell. There is hardly a
+family which has not had some sickness, some stroke of disaster,
+some peculiar sorrow, or crippling hindrance, arising within itself,
+which makes its condition unlike the rest. In this respect each
+family is one string in the great harp of humanity--a string which,
+touched by the finger of Heaven, contributes a special utterance to
+that universal harmony which is too fine for mortal ears.
+
+From the old weaver's house in "Coal Yard" we went to a place close
+by, called "Castle Yard," one of the most unwholesome nooks I have
+seen in Wigan yet, though there are many such in that part of the
+town. It was a close, pestilent, little cul de sac, shut in by a
+dead brick wall at the far end. Here we called upon an Irish family,
+seven in number. The mother and two of her daughters were in. The
+mother had sore eyes. The place was dirty, and the air inside was
+close and foul. The miserable bits of furniture left were fit for
+nothing but a bonfire. "Good morning, Mrs K_," said my friend, as we
+entered the stifling house; "how are you geting on?" The mother
+stood in the middle of the floor, wiping her sore eyes, and then
+folding her hands in a tattered apron; whilst her daughters gazed
+upon us vacantly from the background. "Oh, then," replied the woman,
+"things is worse wid us entirely, sir, than whenever ye wor here
+before. I dunno what will we do whin the winter comes." In reply to
+me, she said, "We are seven altogether, wid my husband an' myself. I
+have one lad was ill o' the yallow jaundice this many months, an'
+there is somethin' quare hangin' over that boy this day; I dunno
+whatever shall we do wid him. I was thinkin' this long time could I
+get a ricommind to see would the doctor give him anythin' to rise an
+appetite in him at all. By the same token, I know it is not a
+convanient time for makin' appetites in poor folk just now. But
+perhaps the doctor might be able to do him some good, by the way he
+would be ready when times mind. Faith, my hands is full wid one
+thing an' another. Ah, thin; but God is good, after all. We dunno
+what is He goin' to do through the dark stroke is an' us this day."
+Here my friend interrupted her, saying, "Don't you think, Mrs K_,
+that you would be more comfortable if you were to keep your house
+cleaner? It costs nothing, you know, but a little labour; and you
+have nothing else to do just now." "Ah, then," replied she; "see
+here, now. I was just gettin' the mug ready for that same, whenever
+ye wor comin' into the yard, I was. "Here she turned sharply round,
+and said to one of the girls, who was standing in the background,
+"Go on, wid ye, now; and clane the flure. Didn't I tell ye many a
+time this day?" The girl smiled, and shuffled away into a dingy
+little room at the rear of the cottage. "Faith, sir," continued the
+woman, beating time with her hand in the air; "faith, sir, it is not
+aisy for a poor woman to manage unbiddable childer." "What part of
+Ireland do you come from, Mrs K_?" said I. She hesitated a second or
+two, and played with her chin; then, blushing slightly, she replied
+in a subdued tone, "County Galway, sir." "Well," said I, "you've no
+need to be ashamed of that." The woman seemed reassured, and
+answered at once, "Oh, indeed then, sir, I am not ashamed--why would
+I? I am more nor seventeen year now in England, an' I never
+disguised my speech, nor disowned my country--nor I never will,
+aither, plase God." She had said before that her husband was forty-
+five years of age; and now I inquired what age she was. "I am the
+same age as my husband," replied she. "Forty-five," said I. "No,
+indeed, I am not forty-five," answered she; "nor forty naither."
+"Are you thirty-eight?" "May be I am; I dunno. I don't think I am
+thirty-eight naither; I am the same age as my husband." It was no
+use talking, so the subject was dropped. As we came away, the woman
+followed my friend to the door, earnestly pleading the cause of some
+family in the neighbourhood, who were in great distress. "See now,"
+said she, "they are a large family, and the poor crayters are
+starvin'. He is a shoemaker, an' he doesn't be gettin' any work this
+longtime. Oh, indeed, then, Mr Lea, God knows thim people is badly
+off." My friend promised to visit the family she had spoken of, and
+we came away. The smell of the house, and of the court altogether,
+was so sickening that we were glad to get into the air of the open
+street again.
+
+It was now about half-past eleven, and my friend said, "We have
+another workroom for young women in the schoolroom of St Catherine's
+Church. It is about five minutes' walk from here; we have just time
+to see it before they break up for dinner." It was a large, square,
+brick building, standing by the road side, upon high ground, at the
+upper end of Scholes. The church is about fifty yards east of the
+schoolhouse. This workroom was more airy, and better lighted than
+the one at the Mechanics' Institution. The floor was flagged, which
+will make it colder than the other in winter time. There were four
+hundred girls in this room, some engaged in sewing and knitting,
+others in reading and writing. They are employed four days in the
+week, and they are paid ninepence a day, as at the other two rooms
+in the town. It really was a pleasant thing to see their clear,
+healthy, blond complexions; their clothing, so clean and whole,
+however poor; and their orderly deportment. But they had been
+accustomed to work, and their work had given them a discipline which
+is not sufficiently valued. There are people who have written a
+great deal, and know very little about the influence of factory
+labour upon health,--it would be worth their while to see some of
+these workrooms. I think it would sweep cobwebs away from the
+corners of their minds. The clothing made up in these workrooms is
+of a kind suitable for the wear of working people, and is intended
+to be given away to the neediest among them, in the coming winter. I
+noticed a feature here which escaped me in the room at the
+Mechanics' Institution. On one side of the room there was a flight
+of wooden stairs, about six yards wide. Upon these steps were seated
+a number of children, with books in their hands. These youngsters
+were evidently restless, though not noisy; and they were not very
+attentive to their books. These children were the worst clad and
+least clean part of the assembly; and it was natural that they
+should be so, for they were habitual beggars, gathered from the
+streets, and brought there to be taught and fed. When they were
+pointed out to me, I could not help thinking that the money which
+has been spent upon ragged schools is an excellent investment in the
+sense of world-wide good. I remarked to one of the ladies teaching
+there, how very clean and healthy the young women looked. She said
+that the girls had lately been more in the open air than usual.
+"And," said she, speaking of the class she was superintending, "I
+find these poor girls as apt learners as any other class of young
+people I ever knew." We left the room just before they were
+dismissed to dinner.
+
+A few yards from the school, and by the same roadside, we came to a
+little cottage at the end of a row. "We will call here," said my
+friend; "I know the people very well. "A little, tidy, good-looking
+woman sat by the fire, nursing an infant at the breast. The house
+was clean, and all the humble furniture of the poor man's cottage
+seemed to be still in its place. There were two shelves of books
+hanging against the walls, and a pile of tracts and pamphlets, a
+foot deep, on a small table at the back of the room. I soon found,
+however, that these people were going through their share of the
+prevalent suffering. The family was six in number. The comely little
+woman said that her husband was a weaver of "Cross-over;" and I
+suppose he would earn about six or seven shillings a week at that
+kind of work; but he had been long out of work. His wife said, "I've
+had to pop my husban's trousers an' waistcoat many a time to pay th'
+rent o' this house." She then began to talk about her first-born,
+and the theme was too much for her. "My owdest child was thirteen
+when he died," said she. "Eh, he was a fine child. We lost him about
+two years sin'. He was killed. He fell down that little pit o'
+Wright's, Mr Lea, he did." Then the little woman began to cry, "Eh,
+my poor lad! Eh, my fine little lad! Oh dear,--oh dear o' me!" What
+better thing could we have done than to say nothing at such a
+moment. We waited a few minutes until she became calm, and then she
+began to talk about a benevolent young governess who used to live in
+that quarter, and who had gone about doing good there, amongst "all
+sorts and conditions of men," especially the poorest.
+
+"Eh," said she; "that was a good woman, if ever there was one. Hoo
+teached a class o' fifty at church school here, though hoo wur a
+Dissenter. An' hoo used to come to this house every Sunday neet, an'
+read th' Scripturs; an' th' place wur olez crammed--th' stairs an
+o'. Up-groon fellows used to come an' larn fro her, just same as
+childer--they did for sure--great rough colliers, an' o' mak's. Hoo
+used to warn 'em again drinkin', an' get 'em to promise that they
+wouldn't taste for sich a time. An' if ever they broke their
+promise, they olez towd her th' truth, and owned to it at once. They
+like as iv they couldn't for shame tell her a lie. There's one of
+her scholars, a blacksmith--he's above fifty year owd--iv yo were to
+mention her name to him just now, he'd begin a-cryin', an' he'd ha'
+to walk eawt o'th heause afore he could sattle hissel'. Eh, hoo wur
+a fine woman; an' everything that hoo said wur so striking. Hoo
+writes to her scholars here, once a week; an' hoo wants 'em to write
+back to her, as mony on 'em as con do. See yo; that's one ov her
+letters!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+
+"Come, child of misfortune, come hither!
+I'll weep with thee, tear for tear."
+--TOM MOORE.
+
+The weaver's wife spoke very feelingly of the young governess who
+had been so good to the family. Her voice trembled with emotion as
+she told of her kindnesses, which had so won the hearts of the poor
+folk thereabouts, that whenever they hear her name now, their
+tongues leap at once into heart-warm praise of her. It seems to have
+been her daily pleasure to go about helping those who needed help
+most, without any narrowness of distinction; in the spirit of that
+"prime wisdom" which works with all its might among such elements as
+lie nearest to the hand. Children and gray-haired working men
+crowded into the poor cottages to hear her read, and to learn the
+first elements of education at her free classes. She left the town,
+some time ago, to live in the south of England; but the blessings of
+many who were ready to perish in Wigan will follow her all her days,
+and her memory will long remain a garden of good thoughts and
+feelings to those she has left behind. The eyes of the weaver's wife
+grew moist as she told of the old blacksmith, who could not bear to
+hear her name mentioned without tears. On certain nights of the week
+he used to come regularly with the rest to learn to read, like a
+little child, from that young teacher. As I said in my last, she
+still sends a weekly letter to her poor scholars in Wigan to
+encourage them in their struggles, and to induce as many of them as
+are able to write to her in return. "This is one of her letters,"
+said the poor woman, handing a paper to me. The manner of the
+handwriting was itself characteristic of kind consideration for her
+untrained readers. The words stood well apart. The letters were
+clearly divided, and carefully and distinctly written, in Roman
+characters, a quarter of an inch long; and there was about three-
+quarters of an inch of space between each line, so as to make the
+whole easier to read by those not used to manuscript. The letter ran
+as follows:--"Dear friends,--I send you with this some little books,
+which I hope you will like to try to read; soon, I hope, I shall be
+able to help you with those texts you cannot make out by yourselves.
+I often think of you, dear friends, and wish that I could sometimes
+take a walk to Scholefield's Lane. This wish only makes me feel how
+far I am from you, but then I remember with gladness that I may
+mention you all by name to our one Father, and ask Him to bless you.
+Very often I do ask Him, and one of my strongest wishes is that we,
+who have so often read His message of love together, may all of us
+love the Saviour, and, through Him, be saved from sin. Dear friends,
+do pray to Him. With kind love and best wishes to each one of you,
+believe me always, your sincere friend, __." I have dwelt a little
+upon this instance of unassuming beneficence, to show that there is
+a great deal of good being done in this world, which is not much
+heard of, except by accident. One meets with it, here and there, as
+a thirsty traveller meets with an unexpected spring in the
+wilderness, refreshing its own plot of earth, without noise or
+ostentation.
+
+My friend and I left the weaver's cottage, and came down again into
+a part of Scholes where huddled squalor and filth is to be found on
+all sides. On our way we passed an old tattered Irishwoman, who was
+hurrying along, with two large cabbages clipt tight in her withered
+arms. "You're doin' well, old lady," said I. "Faith," replied she,
+"if I had a big lump ov a ham bone, now, wouldn't we get over this
+day in glory, anyhow. But no matter. There's not wan lafe o' them
+two fellows but will be clane out o' sight before the clock strikes
+again." The first place we called at in this quarter was a poor
+half-empty cottage, inhabited by an old widow and her sick daughter.
+The girl sat there pale and panting, and wearing away to skin and
+bone. She was far gone in consumption. Their only source of
+maintenance was the usual grant of relief from the committee, but
+this girl's condition needed further consideration. The old widow
+said to my friend, "Aw wish yo could get me some sort o' nourishment
+for this lass, Mr Lea; aw cannot get it mysel', an' yo see'n heaw
+hoo is." My friend took a note of the case, and promised to see to
+it at once. When great weltering populations, like that of
+Lancashire, are thrown suddenly into such a helpless state as now,
+it is almost impossible to lay hold at once of every nice
+distinction of circumstances that gives a speciality of suffering to
+the different households of the poor. But I believe, as this time of
+trouble goes on, the relief committees are giving a more careful and
+delicate consideration to the respective conditions of poor
+families.
+
+After leaving the old widow's house, as we went farther down into
+the sickly hive of penury and dirt, called "Scholes," my friend told
+me of an intelligent young woman, a factory operative and a Sunday-
+school teacher, who had struggled against starvation, till she could
+bear it no longer; and, even after she had accepted the grant of
+relief, she "couldn't for shame" fetch the tickets herself, but
+waited outside whilst a friend of hers went in for them. The next
+house we visited was a comfortable cottage. The simple furniture was
+abundant, and good of its kind, and the whole was remarkably clean.
+Amongst the wretched dwellings in its neighbourhood, it shone "like
+a good deed in a naughty world." On the walls there were several
+Catholic pictures, neatly framed; and a large old-fashioned wooden
+wheel stood in the middle of the floor, with a quantity of linen
+yarn upon it. Old Stephen I__ and his cosy goodwife lived there. The
+old woman was "putting the place to rights" after their noontide
+meal; and Stephen was "cottering" about the head of the cellar steps
+when we went in. There were a few healthy plants in the windows, and
+everything gave evidence of industry and care. The good-tempered old
+couple were very communicative. Old Stephen was a weaver of diaper;
+and, when he had anything to do, he could earn about eight shillings
+a week. "Some can get more than that at the same work," said he;
+"but I am gettin' an old man, ye see. I shall be seventy-three on
+the 10th of next October, and, beside that, I have a very bad arm,
+which is a great hindrance to me." "He has had very little work for
+months, now," said his wife; "an' what makes us feel it more, just
+now, is that my son is over here on a visit to us, from Oscott
+College. He is studying for the priesthood. He went to St John's,
+here, in Wigan, for five years, as a pupil teacher; an' he took good
+ways, so the principals of the college proposed to educate him for
+the Church of Rome. He was always a good boy, an' a bright one, too.
+I wish we had been able to entertain him better. But he knows that
+the times are again us. He is twenty-four years of age; an' I often
+think it strange that his father's birthday and his own fall on the
+same day of the month--the 10th of October. I hope we'll both live
+to see him an ornament to his profession yet. There is only the
+girl, an' Stephen, an' myself left at home now, an' we have hard
+work to pull through, I can assure ye; though there are many people
+a dale worse off than we are."
+
+From this place we went up to a street called "Vauxhall Road." In
+the first cottage we called at here the inmates were all out of
+work, as usual, and living upon relief. There happened to be a poor
+old white-haired weaver sitting in the house,--an aged neighbour out
+of work, who had come in to chat with my friend a bit. My friend
+asked how he was getting on. "Yo mun speak up," said the woman of
+the house, "he's very deaf." "What age are yo, maister?" said I.
+"What?" "How old are yo?" "Aw'm a beamer," replied the old man, "a
+twister-in,--when there's ought doin'. But it's nowt ov a trade
+neaw. Aw'll tell yo what ruins me; it's these lung warps. They maken
+'em seven an' eight cuts in, neaw an' then. There's so mony
+'fancies' an' things i' these days; it makes my job good to nought
+at o' for sich like chaps as me. When one gets sixty year owd, they
+needen to go to schoo again neaw; they getten o'erta'en wi' so many
+kerly-berlies o' one mak and another. Mon, owd folk at has to wortch
+for a livin' cannot keep up wi' sich times as these,--nought o'th
+sort." "Well, but how do you manage to live?" "Well, aw can hardly
+tell,--aw'll be sunken iv aw can tell. It's very thin pikein'; but
+very little does for me, an' aw've nought but mysel'. Yo see'n, aw
+get a bit ov a job neaw an' then, an' a scrat amung th' rook, like
+an owd hen. But aw'll tell yo one thing; aw'll not go up yon, iv aw
+can help it,--aw'll not." ("Up yon" meant to the Board of
+Guardians.) "Eh, now," said the woman of the house, "aw never see'd
+sich a man as him i' my life. See yo, he'll sit an' clem fro mornin'
+to neet afore he'll ax oather relief folk or onybody else for a
+bite."
+
+In the same street we called at a house where there was a tall, pale
+old man, sitting sadly in an old arm-chair, by the fireside. The
+little cottage was very sweet and orderly. Every window was cleaned
+to its utmost nook of glass, and every bit of metal was brightened
+up to the height. The flagged floor was new washed; and everything
+was in its own place. There were a few books on little shelves, and
+a Bible lay on the window-sill; and there was a sad, chapel-like
+stillness in the house. A clean, staid-looking girl stood at a
+table, peeling potatoes for dinner. The old man said, "We are five,
+altogether, in this house. This lass is a reeler. I am a weighver;
+but we'n bin out o' wark nine months, now. We'n bin force't to tak
+to relief at last; an' we'n getten five tickets. We could happen ha'
+manage't better,--but aw'm sore wi' rheumatism, yo see'n. Aw've had
+a bit o' weighvin' i'th heawse mony a day, but aw've th' rheumatic
+so bad i' this hond--it's hond that aw pick wi'--that aw couldn't
+bide to touch a fither with it, bless yo. Aw have th' rheumatic all
+o'er mo, nearly; an' it leads one a feaw life. Yo happen never had a
+touch on it, had yo?" "Never." "Well; yo're weel off. When is this
+war to end, thinken yo?" "Nay; that's a very hard thing to tell." "
+Well, we mun grin an' abide till it's o'er, aw guess. It's a mad mak
+o' wark. But it'll happen turn up for best i'th end ov o'."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+
+"Mother, heaw leets we han no brade,--
+Heawever con it be?
+Iv aw don't get some brade to eat,
+Aw think 'at aw mun dee."
+--Hungry Child.
+
+It was about noon when we left the old weaver, nursing his rheumatic
+limbs by the side of a dim fire, in his chapel-like little house.
+His daughter, a tall, clean, shy girl, began to peel a few potatoes
+just before we came away. It is a touching thing, just now, to see
+so many decent cottages of thrifty working men brought low by the
+strange events of these days; cottages in which everything betokens
+the care of well-conducted lives, and where the sacred fire of
+independent feeling is struggling through the long frost of
+misfortune with patient dignity. It is a touching thing to see the
+simple joys of life, in homes like these, crushed into a speechless
+endurance of penury, and the native spirit of self-reliance writhing
+in unavoidable prostration, and hoping on from day to day for better
+times. I have seen many such places in my wanderings during these
+hard days--cottages where all was so sweet and orderly, both in
+person and habitation, that, but for the funereal stillness which
+sat upon hunger-nipt faces, a stranger would hardly have dreamt that
+the people dwelling there were undergoing any uncommon privation. I
+have often met with such people in my rambles,--I have often found
+them suffering pangs more keen than hunger alone could inflict,
+because they arose from the loss of those sweet relations of
+independence which are dear to many of them as life itself. With
+such as these--the shy, the proud, the intelligent and uncomplaining
+endurers--hunger is not the hardest thing that befalls:-
+
+"When the mind's free,
+The body's delicate; the tempest in their minds
+Doth from their senses take all else,
+Save what beats there."
+
+People of this temper are more numerous amongst our working
+population than the world believes, because they are exactly of the
+kind least likely to be heard of. They will fight their share of the
+battle of this time out as nobly as they have begun it; and it will
+be an ill thing for the land that owns them if full justice is not
+done to their worth, both now and hereafter.
+
+In the same street where the old weaver lived, we called upon a
+collier's family--a family of ten in number. The colliers of Wigan
+have been suffering a good deal lately, among the rest of the
+community, from shortness of labour. It was dinner-time when we
+entered the house, and the children were all swarming about the
+little place clamouring for their noontide meal. With such a rough
+young brood, I do not wonder that the house was not so tidy as some
+that I had seen. The collier's wife was a decent, good-tempered-
+looking woman, though her face was pale and worn, and bore evidence
+of the truth of her words, when she said, "Bless your life, aw'm
+poo'd to pieces wi' these childer!" She sat upon a stool, nursing a
+child at the breast, and doing her best to still the tumult of the
+others, who were fluttering about noisily. "Neaw, Sammul," said she,
+"theaw'll ha' that pot upo th' floor in now,--thae little pousement
+thae! Do keep eawt o' mischief,--an' make a less din, childer, win
+yo: for my yed's fair maddle't wi' one thing an' another . . .
+Mary, tak' th' pon off th' fire, an' reach me yon hippin' off th'
+oondur; an' then sit tho deawn somewheer, do,--thae'll be less bi
+th' legs." The children ranged seemingly from about two months up to
+fourteen years of age. Two of the youngest were sitting upon the
+bottom step of the stairs, eating off one plate. Four rough lads
+were gathered round a brown dish, which stood upon a little deal
+table in the middle of the floor. These four were round-headed
+little fellows, all teeming with life. "Yon catched us eawt
+o'flunters, (out of order,)" said the poor woman when we entered;
+"but what con a body do?" We were begging that she would not disturb
+herself, when one of the lads at the table called out, "Mother; look
+at eawr John. He keeps pushin' me off th' cheer!" "Eh, John,"
+replied she; "I wish thy feyther were here! Thae'rt olez tormentin'
+that lad. Do let him alone, wilto--or else aw'll poo that toppin' o'
+thine, smartly--aw will! An' do see iv yo connot behave yorsels!"
+"Well," said John; "he keeps takkin' my puddin'!" "Eh, what a
+story," replied the other little fellow; "it wur thee, neaw!" "
+Aw'll tell yo what it is," said the mother, "iv yo two connot agree,
+an' get your dinner quietly, aw'll tak that dish away; an' yo'st not
+have another bite this day. Heaw con yo for shame!" This quietened
+the lads a little, and they went on with their dinner. At another
+little table under the back window, two girls stood, dining off one
+plate. The children were all eating a kind of light pudding, known
+in Lancashire by the name of "Berm-bo," or, "Berm-dumplin'," made of
+flour and yeast, mixed with a little suet. The poor woman said that
+her children were all "hearty-etten," (all hearty eaters,)
+especially the lads; and she hardly knew what to make for them, so
+as to have enough for the whole. "Berm-dumplin'," was as satisfying
+as anything that she could get, and it would "stick to their ribs"
+better than "ony mak o' swill;" besides, the children liked it.
+Speaking of her husband, she said, "He were eawt o' wark a good
+while; but he geet a shop at last, at Blackrod, abeawt four mile off
+Wigan. When he went a-wortchin' to Blackrod, at first, nought would
+sarve but he would walk theer an' back every day, so as to save
+lodgin' brass,--an sich like. Aw shouldn't ha' care't iv it had
+nobbut bin a mile, or two even; for aw'd far rayther that he had his
+meals comfortable awhoam, an' his bits o' clooas put reet; but Lord
+bless yo,--eight mile a day, beside a hard day's wark,--it knocked
+him up at last,--it were so like. He kept sayin', 'Oh, he could do
+it,' an' sich like; but aw could see that he were fair killin'
+hissel', just for the sake o' comin' to his own whoam ov a neet; an'
+for th' sake o' savin' two or three shillin'; so at last aw turned
+Turk, an' made him tak lodgin's theer. Aw'd summut to do to persuade
+him at first, an' aw know that he's as whoam-sick as a chylt that's
+lost its mother, just this minute; but then, what's th' matter o'
+that,--it wouldn't do for mo to have him laid up, yo known. . . .
+Oh, he's a very feelin' mon. Aw've sin him when he couldn't finish
+his bit o' dinner for thinkin' o' somebody that were clemmin'."
+Speaking of the hardships the family had experienced, she said, "Eh,
+bless yo! There's some folk can sit i'th heawse an' send their
+childer to prow eawt a-beggin' in a mornin', regilar,--but eawr
+childer wouldn't do it,--an', iv they would, aw wouldn' let 'em,--
+naw, not iv we were clemmin' to deeoth,--to my thinkin'."
+
+The woman was quite right. Among the hard-tried operatives of
+Lancashire I have seen several instances in which they have gone out
+daily to beg; and some rare cases, even, in which they have stayed
+moodily at home themselves and sent their children forth to beg; and
+anybody living in this county will have noticed the increase of
+mendicancy there, during the last few months. No doubt professional
+beggars have taken large advantage of this unhappy time to work upon
+the sympathies of those easy givers who cannot bear to hear the wail
+of distress, however simulated--who prefer giving at once, because
+it "does their own hearts good," to the trouble of inquiring or the
+pain of refusing,--who would rather relieve twenty rogues than miss
+the blessing of one honest soul who was ready to perish,--those
+kind-hearted, free-handed scatterers of indiscriminate benevolence
+who are the keen-eyed, whining cadger's chief support, his standing
+joke, and favourite prey; and who are more than ever disposed to
+give to whomsoever shall ask of them in such a season as this. All
+the mendicancy which appears on our streets does not belong to the
+suffering operatives of Lancashire. But, apart from those poor,
+miserable crawlers in the gutters of life, who live by habitual and
+unnecessary beggary, great and continued adversity is a strong test
+of the moral tone of any people. Extreme poverty, and the painful
+things which follow in its train--these are "bad to bide" with the
+best of mankind. Besides, there are always some people who, from
+causes within themselves, are continually at their wits' end to keep
+the wolf from the door, even when employment is plentiful with them;
+and there are some natures too weak to bear any long strain of
+unusual poverty without falling back upon means of living which, in
+easy circumstances, they would have avoided, if not despised. It is
+one evil of the heavy pressure of the times; for there is fear that
+among such as these, especially the young and plastic, some may
+become so familiar with that beggarly element which was offensive to
+their minds at first--may so lose the tone of independent pride, and
+become "subdued to what they work in, like the dyer's hand,"--that
+they may learn to look upon mendicancy as an easy source of support
+hereafter, even in times of less difficulty than the present.
+
+Happily, such weakness as this is not characteristic of the English
+people; but "they are well kept that God keeps," and perhaps it
+would not be wise to cramp the hand of relief too much at a time
+like this, to a people who have been, and will be yet, the hope and
+glory of the land.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+
+"Poor Tom's a-cold! Who gives anything to poor Tom?"
+--King Lear.
+
+One sometimes meets with remarkable differences of condition in the
+households of poor folk, which stand side by side in the same
+street. I am not speaking of the uncertain shelters of those who
+struggle upon the skirts of civilisation, in careless, uncared-for
+wretchedness, without settled homes, or regular occupation,--the
+miserable camp followers of life's warfare,--living habitually from
+hand to mouth, in a reckless wrestle with the world, for mere
+existence. I do not mean these, but the households of our common
+working people. Amongst the latter one sometimes meets with striking
+differences, in cleanliness, furniture, manners, intellectual
+acquirements, and that delicate compound of mental elements called
+taste. Even in families whose earnings have been equal in the past,
+and who are just now subject alike to the same pinch of adversity,
+these disparities are sometimes very great. And, although there are
+cases in which the immediate causes of these differences are evident
+enough in the habits of the people, yet, in others, the causes are
+so obscure, that the wisest observer would be most careful in
+judging respecting them. I saw an example of this in a little bye-
+street, at the upper end of Scholes--a quarter of Wigan where the
+poorest of the poor reside, and where many decent working people
+have lately been driven for cheap shelter by the stress of the
+times. Scholes is one of those ash-pits of human life which may be
+found in almost any great town; where, among a good deal of despised
+stuff, which by wise treatment might possibly be made useful to the
+world, many a jewel gets accidentally thrown away, and lost. This
+bye-street of mean brick cottages had an unwholesome, outcast look;
+and the sallow, tattered women, lounging about the doorways, and
+listlessly watching the sickly children in the street, evinced the
+prevalence of squalor and want there. The very children seemed
+joyless at their play; and everything that met the eye foretold that
+there was little chance of finding anything in that street but
+poverty in its most prostrate forms. But, even in this unpromising
+spot, I met with an agreeable surprise.
+
+The first house we entered reminded me of those clean, lone
+dwellings, up in the moorland nooks of Lancashire, where the sweet
+influences of nature have free play; where the people have a
+hereditary hatred of dirt and disorder; and where, even now, many of
+the hardy mountain folk are half farmers, half woollen weavers,
+doing their weaving in their own quiet houses, where the smell of
+the heather and the song of the wild bird floats in at the workman's
+window, blent with the sounds of rindling waters,--doing their
+weaving in green sequestered nooks, where the low of kine, and the
+cry of the moorfowl can be heard; and bearing the finished "cuts"
+home upon their backs to the distant town. All was so bright in this
+little cottage,--so tidy and serene,--that the very air seemed
+clearer there than in the open street. The humble furniture, good of
+its kind, was all shiny with "elbow grease," and some parts of it
+looked quaint and well-preserved, like the heirlooms of a careful
+cottage ancestry. The well polished fire-irons, and other metal
+things, seemed to gather up the diffuse daylight and fling it back
+in concentrated radiances that illuminated the shady cottage with
+cheerful beauty. The little shelf of books, the gleaming window,
+with its healthy pot flowers, the perfect order, and the trim
+sweetness of everything, reminded me, as I have said, of the better
+sort of houses where simple livers dwell, up among the free air of
+the green hills--those green hills of Lancashire, the remembrance of
+which will always stir my heart as long as it can stir to anything.
+This cottage, in comparison with most of those which I had seen in
+Scholes, looked like a glimpse of the star-lit blue peeping through
+the clouds on a gloomy night. I found that it was the house of a
+widower, a weaver of diaper, who was left with a family of eight
+children to look after. Two little girls were in the house, and they
+were humbly but cleanly clad. One of them called her father up from
+the cellar, where he was working at his looms. He was a mild,
+thoughtful-looking man, something past middle age. I could not help
+admiring him as he stood in the middle of the floor with his
+unsleeved arms folded, uttering quiet jets of simple speech to my
+friend, who had known him before. He said that he hardly ever got
+anything to do now, but when he was at work he could make about 7s.
+2d. a week by weaving two cuts. He was receiving six tickets weekly
+from the Relief Committee, which, except the proceeds of a little
+employment now and then, was all that the family of nine had to
+depend upon for food, firing, clothes, and rent. He said that he was
+forced to make every little spin out as far as it would; but it kept
+him bare and busy, and held his nose "everlastingly deawn to th'
+grindlestone." But he didn't know that it was any use complaining
+about a thing that neither master nor man could help. He durst say
+that he could manage to grin and bide till things came round, th'
+same as other folk had to do. Grumbling, in a case like this, was
+like "fo'in eawt wi' th' elements," (quarrelling with a storm.) One
+of his little girls was on her knees, cleaning the floor. She
+stopped a minute, to look at my friend and me. "Come, my lass," said
+her father, "get on wi' thi weshin'." "I made application for th'
+watchman's place at Leyland Mill," continued he, "but I wur to lat.
+. . . There's nought for it," continued he, as we came out of the
+house, "there's nought for it but to keep one's een oppen, an' do as
+weel as they con, till it blows o'er."
+
+A few yards from this house, we looked in at a slip of a cottage, at
+the corner of the row. It was like a slice off some other cottage,
+stuck on at the end of the rest, to make up the measure of the
+street; for it was less than two yards wide, by about four yards
+long. There was only one small window, close to the door, and it was
+shrouded by a dingy cotton blind. When we first entered, I could
+hardly see what there was in that gloomy cell; but when the eyes
+became acquainted with the dimness within, we found that there was
+neither fire nor furniture in the place, except at the far end,
+where an old sick woman lay gasping upon three chairs, thinly
+covered from the cold. She was dying of asthma. At her right hand
+there was another rickety chair, by the help of which she raised
+herself up from her hard bed. She said that she had never been up
+stairs during the previous twelve months, but had lain there, at the
+foot of the stairs, all that time. She had two daughters. They were
+both out of the house; and they had been out of work a long time.
+One of them had gone to Miss B_'s to learn to sew. "She gets her
+breakfast before she starts," said the old woman, "an' she takes a
+piece o' bread with her, to last for th' day." It was a trouble to
+her to talk much, so we did not stop long; but I could not help
+feeling sorry that the poor old soul had not a little more comfort
+to smooth her painful passage to the grave. On our way from this
+place, we went into a cottage near the "Coal Yard," where a tall,
+thin Irishwoman was washing some tattered clothes, whilst her
+children played about the gutter outside. This was a family of
+seven, and they were all out of work, except the father, who was
+away, trying to make a trifle by hawking writing-paper and
+envelopes. This woman told us that she was in great trouble about
+one of her children--the eldest daughter, now grown up to womanhood.
+"She got married to a sailor about two year ago," said she, "an' he
+wint away a fortnit after, an' never was heard of since. She never
+got the scrape ov a pen from him to say was he alive or dead. She
+never heard top nor tail of him since he wint from her; an' the girl
+is just pinin' away."
+
+Poor folk have their full share of the common troubles of life,
+apart from the present distress. The next place we visited was the
+"Fleece Yard," another of those unhealthy courts, of which there are
+so many in Scholes--where poverty and dirt unite to make life doubly
+miserable. In this yard we went up three or four steps into a little
+disorderly house, where a family of eleven was crowded. Not one of
+the eleven was earning anything except the father, who was working
+for ls. 3d. a day. In addition to this the family received four
+tickets weekly from the Relief Committee. There were several of the
+children in, and they looked brisk and healthy, in spite of the dirt
+and discomfort of the place; but the mother was sadly "torn down" by
+the cares of her large family. The house had a sickly smell. Close
+to the window, a little, stiff built, bullet-headed lad stood,
+stript to the waist, sputtering and splashing as he washed himself
+in a large bowl of water, placed upon a stool. By his side there was
+another lad three or four years older, and the two were having a bit
+of famous fun together, quite heedless of all else. The elder kept
+ducking the little fellow's head into the water, upon which the one
+who was washing himself sobbed, and spat, and cried out in great
+glee, "Do it again, Jack!" The mother, seeing us laugh at the lads,
+said, "That big un's been powin' tother, an' th' little monkey's
+gone an' cut every smite o' th' lad's toppin' off. "" Well," said
+the elder lad, "Aw did it so as nobody can lug him. "And it
+certainly was a close clip. We could see to the roots of the little
+fellow's hair all over his round, hard head. "Come," said the
+mother, "yo two are makin' a nice floor for mo. Thae'll do, mon;
+arto beawn to lother o' th' bit o' swoap away that one has to wash
+wi'; gi's howd on't this minute, an' go thi ways an' dry thisel',
+thae little pouse, thae." We visited several other places in Scholes
+that day, but of these I will say something hereafter. In the
+evening I returned home, and the thing that I best remember hearing
+on the way was an anecdote of two Lancashire men, who had been
+disputing a long time about something that one of them knew little
+of. At last the other turned to him, and said, "Jem; does thae know
+what it is that makes me like thee so weel, owd brid?" "Naw; what is
+it?" "Why; it's becose thae'rt sich a ___ foo!" "Well," replied the
+other, "never thee mind that;" and then, alluding to the subject
+they had been disputing about, he said, "Thae knows, Joe, aw know
+thae'rt reet enough; but, by th' men, aw'll not give in till
+mornin'."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+
+"Here, take this purse, thou whom the Heaven's plagues
+Have humbled to all strokes."
+--King Lear.
+
+In the afternoon of the last day I spent in Wigan, as I wandered
+with my friend from one cottage to another, in the long suburban
+lane called "Hardy Butts," I bethought me how oft I had met with
+this name of "Butts "connected with places in or close to the towns
+of Lancashire. To me the original application of the name seems
+plain, and not uninteresting. In the old days, when archery was
+common in England, the bowmen of Lancashire were famous; and it is
+more than likely that these yet so-called "Butts" are the places
+where archery was then publicly practised. When Sir Edward Stanley
+led the war-smiths of Lancashire and Cheshire to Flodden Field, the
+men of Wigan are mentioned as going with the rest. And among those
+"fellows fearce and freshe for feight," of whom the quaint old
+alliterative ballad describes the array:-
+
+"A stock of striplings strong of heart,
+Brought up from babes with beef and bread,
+From Warton unto Warrington
+From Wigan unto Wiresdale--"
+
+and, from a long list of the hills, and cloughs, and old towns of
+the county--the bowmen of Lancashire did their share of work upon
+that field. The use of the bow lingered longer in Lancashire than in
+some parts of the kingdom--longer in England generally than many
+people suppose. Sir Walter Scott says, in a note to his "Legend of
+Montrose:" "Not only many of the Highlanders in Montrose's army used
+these antique missiles, but even in England the bow and quiver, once
+the glory of the bold yeomen of that land, were occasionally used
+during the great civil wars."
+
+But I have said enough upon this subject in this place. My friend's
+business, and mine, in Wigan, that day, was connected with other
+things. He was specially wishful that I should call upon an
+acquaintance of his, who lived in "Hardy Butts," an old man and very
+poor; a man heavily stricken by fortune's blows, yet not much tamed
+thereby; a man "steeped to the lips" in poverty, yet of a jocund
+spirit; a humorist and a politician, among his humble companions. I
+felt curious to see this "Old John," of whom I heard so much. We
+went to the cottage where he lived. There was very little furniture
+in the place, and, like the house itself, it was neither good nor
+clean; but then the poverty-stricken pair were very old, and, so far
+as household comfort went, they had to look after themselves. When
+we entered, the little wrinkled woman sat with her back to us,
+smoking, and gazing at the dirty grate, where a few hot cinders
+glowed dimly in the lowmost bars. "Where's John?" said my friend.
+"He hasn't bin gone eawt aboon five minutes," said she, turning
+round to look at us, "Wur yo wantin' him?" "Yes, I should like to
+see him." She looked hard at my friend again, and then cried out,
+"Eh, is it yo? Come, an' sit yo deawn! aw'll go an' see iv aw can
+root him up for yo!" But we thought it as well to visit some other
+houses in the neighbourhood, calling at old John's again afterwards;
+so we told the old woman, and came away.
+
+My friend was well known to the poor people of that neighbourhood as
+a member of the Relief Committee, and we had not gone many yards
+down "Hardy Butts" before we drew near where three Irishwomen were
+sitting upon the doorsteps of a miserable cottage, chattering, and
+looking vacantly up and down the slutchy street. As soon as they
+caught sight of my friend, one of the women called out, "Eh, here's
+Mr Lea! Come here, now, Mr Lea, till I spake to ye. Ah, now;
+couldn't ye do somethin' for old Mary beyant there? Sure the colour
+of hunger's in that woman's face. Faith, it's a pity to see the way
+she is,--neither husband nor son, nor chick nor child, nor bit nor
+sup, barrin' what folk that has nothin' can give to her,--the
+crayter." " Oh, indeed, then, sir," said another, "I'll lave it to
+God; but that woman is starvin'. She is little more nor skin an'
+bone,--and that's goin' less. Faith, she's not long for this world,
+any how. . . . Bridget, ye might run an' see can she come here a
+minute. . . . But there she is, standin' at the corner. Mary! Come
+here, now, woman, till ye see the gentleman." She was a miserable-
+looking creature; old, and ill, and thinly-clothed in rags, with a
+dirty cloth tied round her head. My friend asked her some questions,
+which she answered slowly, in a low voice that trembled with more
+than the weakness of old age. He promised to see to the relief of
+her condition immediately-- and she thanked him, but so feebly, that
+it seemed to me as if she had not strength enough left to care much
+whether she was relieved or not.
+
+But, as we came away, the three Irishwomen, sitting upon the door-
+steps, burst forth into characteristic expressions of gratitude.
+"Ah! long life to ye, Mr Lea! The prayer o' the poor is wid ye for
+evermore. If there was ony two people goin' to heaven alive, you'll
+be wan o' them. . . That ye may never know want nor scant,--for the
+good heart that's batein' in ye, Mr Lea." We now went through some
+of the filthy alleys behind "Hardy Butts," till we came to the
+cottage of a poor widow and her two daughters. The three were
+entirely dependent upon the usual grant of relief from the
+committee. My friend called here to inquire why the two girls had
+not been to school during the previous few days; and whilst their
+mother was explaining the reason, a neighbour woman who had seen us
+enter, looked in at the door, and said, "Hey! aw say, Mr Lea!"
+"Well, what's the matter?" " Whaw, there's a woman i'th next street
+at's gettin' four tickets fro th' relief folk, reggilar, an' her
+husban's addlin' thirty shillin' a week o' t' time, as a sinker--he
+is for sure. Aw 'm noan tellin' yo a wort ov a lie. Aw consider sick
+wark as that's noan reet--an' so mony folk clemmin' as there is i'
+Wigan." He made a note of the matter; but he told me afterwards that
+such reports were often found to be untrue, having their origin
+sometimes in private spite or personal contention of some kind.
+
+In the next house we called at, a widow woman lived, with her
+married daughter, who had a child at the breast. The old woman told
+her story herself; the daughter never spoke a word, so far as I
+remember, but sat there, nursing, silent and sad, with half-averted
+face, and stealing a shy glance at us now and then, when she thought
+we were not looking at her. It was a clean cottage, though it was
+scantily furnished with poor things; and they were both neat and
+clean in person, though their clothing was meagre and far worn. I
+thought, also, that the old woman's language, and the countenances
+of both of them, indicated more natural delicacy of feeling, and
+more cultivation, than is common amongst people of their condition.
+The old woman said, "My daughter has been eawt o' work a long time.
+I can make about two shillings and sixpence a-week, an' we've a
+lodger that pays us two shillings a week; but we've three shillings
+a-week to pay for rent, an' we must pay it, too, or else turn out.
+But I'm lookin' for a less heawse; for we cannot afford to stop here
+any longer, wi' what we have comin' in, --that is, if we're to live
+at o'." I thought the house they were in was small enough and mean
+enough for the poorest creature, and, though it was kept clean, the
+neighbourhood was very unwholesome. But this was another instance of
+how the unemployed operatives of Lancashire are being driven down
+from day to day deeper into the pestilent sinks of life in these
+hard times. "This child of my daughter's," continued the old woman,
+in a low tone, "this child was born just as they were puttin' my
+husband into his coffin, an' wi' one thing an' another, we've had a
+deal o' trouble. But one half o'th world doesn't know how tother
+lives. My husban' lay ill i' bed three year; an' he suffered to that
+degree that he was weary o' life long before it were o'er. At after
+we lost him, these bad times coom on, an' neaw, aw think we're poo'd
+deawn as nee to th' greawnd as ony body can be. My daughter's
+husband went off a-seekin' work just afore that child was born,--an'
+we haven't heard from him yet." My friend took care that his visit
+should result in lightening the weight of the old woman's troubles a
+little.
+
+As we passed the doors of a row of new cottages at the top end of
+"Hardy Butts," a respectable old man looked out at one of the
+doorways, and said to my friend, "Could aw spake to yo a minute?" We
+went in, and found the house remarkably clean, with good cottage
+furniture in it. Two neighbour children were peeping in at the open
+door. The old man first sent them away, and then, after closing the
+door, he pointed to a good-looking young woman who stood blushing at
+the entrance of the inner room, with a wet cloth in her hands, and
+he said, "Could yo do a bit o' summat to help this lass till sich
+times as hoo can get wark again? Hoo's noather feyther nor mother,
+nor nought i'th world to tak to, but what aw can spare for her, an'
+this is a poor shop to come to for help. Aw'm uncle to her." "Well,"
+said my friend, "and cannot you manage to keep her?" "God bless yo!"
+replied the old man, getting warm, "Aw cannot keep mysel'. Aw will
+howd eawt as lung as aw can; but, yo know, what'll barely keep one
+alive 'll clem two. Aw should be thankful iv yo could give her a bit
+o' help whol things are as they are." Before the old man had done
+talking, his niece had crept away into the back room, as if ashamed
+of being the subject of such a conversation. This case was soon
+disposed of to the satisfaction of the old man; after which we
+visited three other houses in the same block, of which I have
+nothing special to say, except that they were all inhabited by
+people brought down to destitution by long want of work, and living
+solely upon the relief fund, and upon the private charity of their
+old employers. Upon this last source of relief too little has been
+said, because it has not paraded itself before the public eye; but I
+have had opportunities for seeing how wide and generous it is, and I
+shall have abundant occasion for speaking of it hereafter. On our
+way back, we looked in at "Old John's" again, to see if he had
+returned home. He had been in, and he had gone out again, so we came
+away, and saw nothing of him. Farther down towards the town, we
+passed through Acton Square, which is a cleaner place than some of
+the abominable nooks of Scholes, though I can well believe that
+there is many a miserable dwelling in it, from what I saw of the
+interiors and about the doorways, in passing.
+
+The last house we called at was in this square, and it was a
+pleasing exception to the general dirt of the neighbourhood. It was
+the cottage of a stout old collier, who lost his right leg in one of
+Wright's pits some years ago. My friend knew the family, and we
+called there more for the purpose of resting ourselves and having a
+chat than anything else. The old man was gray-haired, but he looked
+very hale and hearty--save the lack of his leg. His countenance was
+expressive of intelligence and good humour; and there was a touch of
+quiet majesty about his massive features. There was, to me, a kind
+of rude hint of Christopher North in the old collier's appearance.
+His wife, too, was a tall, strong-built woman, with a comely and a
+gentle face --a fit mate for such a man as he. I thought, as she
+moved about, her grand bulk seemed to outface the narrow limits of
+the cottage. The tiny house was exceedingly clean, and comfortably
+furnished. Everything seemed to be in its appointed place, even to
+the sleek cat sleeping on the hearth. There were a few books on a
+shelf, and a concertina upon a little table in the corner. When we
+entered, the old collier was busy with the slate and pencil, and an
+arithmetic before him; but he laid them aside, and, doffing his
+spectacles, began to talk with us. He said that they were a family
+of six, and all out of work; but he said that, ever since he lost
+his leg, the proprietors of the pit in which the accident happened
+(Wright's) had allowed him a pension of six shillings a week, which
+he considered very handsome. This allowance just kept the wolf from
+their little door in these hard times. In the course of our
+conversation I found that the old man read the papers frequently,
+and that he was a man of more than common information in his class.
+I should have been glad to stay longer with him, but my time was up;
+so I came away from the town, thus ending my last ramble amongst the
+unemployed operatives of Wigan. Since then the condition of the poor
+there has been steadily growing worse, which is sure to be heard of
+in the papers.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+
+AN INCIDENT BY THE WAYSIDE.
+
+"Take physic, pomp!
+Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel;
+That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
+And show the Heavens more just."
+--King Lear.
+
+On the Saturday after my return from Wigan, a little incident fell
+in my way, which I thought worth taking note of at the time; and
+perhaps it may not be uninteresting to your readers. On that day I
+went up to Levenshulme, to spend the afternoon with an old friend of
+mine, a man of studious habits, living in a retired part of that
+green suburb. The time went pleasantly by whilst I was with the calm
+old student, conversing upon the state of Lancashire, and the
+strange events which are upheaving the civilised world in great
+billows of change,--and drinking in the peaceful charm which
+pervaded everything about the man and his house and the scene which
+it stood in.
+
+After tea, he came with me across the fields to the "Midway Inn," on
+Stockport Road, where the omnibuses call on their way to Manchester.
+It was a lovely evening, very clear and cool, and twilight was
+sinking upon the scene. Waiting for the next omnibus, we leaned
+against the long wooden watering-trough in front of the inn. The
+irregular old building looked picturesque in the soft light of
+declining day, and all around was so still that we could hear the
+voices of bowlers who were lingering upon the green, off at the
+north side of the house, and retired from the highway by an
+intervening garden. The varied tones of animation, and the phrases
+uttered by the players, on different parts of the green, came
+through the quiet air with a cheery ring. The language of the
+bowling-green sounds very quaint to people unused to the game. "Too
+much land, James!" cries one. "Bravo, bully-bowl! That's th' first
+wood! Come again for more!" cries another. "Th' wrong bias, John!"
+"How's that?" "A good road; but it wants legs! Narrow; narrow, o' to
+pieces!" These, and such like phrases of the game, came distinctly
+from the green into the highway that quiet evening. And here I am
+reminded, as I write, that the philosophic Doctor Dalton was a
+regular bowler upon Tattersall's green, at Old Trafford. These
+things, however, are all aside from the little matters which I wish
+to tell.
+
+As we stood by the watering-trough, listening to the voices of the
+bowlers, and to the occasional ringing of bells mingled with a low
+buzz of merriment inside the house, there were many travellers went
+by. They came, nearly all of them, from the Manchester side;
+sometimes three or four in company, and sometimes a lonely
+straggler. Some of them had poor-looking little bundles in their
+hands; and, with a few exceptions, their dress, their weary gait,
+and dispirited looks led me to think that many of them were
+unemployed factory operatives, who had been wandering away to beg
+where they would not be known. I have met so many shame-faced,
+melancholy people in that condition during the last few months,
+that, perhaps, I may have somewhat over judged the number of these
+that belongs to that class. But, in two or three cases, little
+snatches of conversation, uttered by them as they went by, plainly
+told that, so far as the speakers went, it was so; and, at last, a
+little thing befell, which, I am sure, represented the condition of
+many a thousand more in Lancashire just now. Three young women
+stopped on the footpath in front of the inn, close to the place
+where we stood, and began to talk together in a very free, open way,
+quite careless of being overheard. One of them was a stout, handsome
+young woman, about twenty-three. Her dress was of light printed
+stuff, clean and good. Her round, ruddy arms, her clear blond
+complexion, and the bright expression of her full open countenance,
+all indicated health and good-nature. I guessed from her
+conversation, as well as from her general appearance, that she was a
+factory operative in full employ--though that is such a rare thing
+in these parts now. The other two looked very poor and downhearted.
+One was a short, thick-set girl, seemingly not twenty years of age;
+her face was sad, and she had very little to say. The other was a
+thin, dark-haired, cadaverous woman, above thirty years of age, as I
+supposed; her shrunk visage was the picture of want, and her frank,
+child-like talk showed great simplicity of character. The weather
+had been wet for some days previous; and the clothing of the two
+looked thin, and shower-stained. It had evidently been worn a good
+while; and the colours were faded. Each of them wore a shivery bit
+of shawl, in which their hands were folded, as if to keep them warm.
+The handsome lass, who seemed to be in good employ, knew them both;
+but she showed an especial kindness towards the eldest of them.
+
+As these two stood talking to their friend, we did not take much
+notice of what they were saying until two other young women came
+slowly from townwards, looking poor, and tired, and ill, like the
+first. These last comers instantly recognised two of those who stood
+talking together in front of the inn, and one of them said to the
+other, "Eh, sitho; there's Sarah an' Martha here! . . . Eh, lasses;
+han yo bin a-beggin' too?" "Ay, lass; we han;" replied the thin,
+dark complexioned woman; "Ay, lass; we han. Aw've just bin tellin'
+Ann, here. Aw never did sich a thing i' my life afore--never! But
+it's th' first time and th' last for me,--it is that! Aw'll go
+whoam; an' aw'll dee theer, afore aw'll go a-beggin' ony moor, aw
+will for sure! Mon, it's sich a nasty, dirty job; aw'd as soon clem!
+. . . See yo, lasses; we set off this mornin'--Martha an' me, we set
+eawt this mornin' to go to Gorton Tank, becose we yerd that it wur
+sich a good place. But one doesn't know wheer to go these times; an'
+one doesn't like to go a-beggin' among folk at they known. Well,
+when we coom to Gorton we geet twopence-hawpenny theer; an' that wur
+o'. Neaw, there's plenty moor beggin' besides us. Well, at after
+that twopence-hawpenny, we geet twopence moor, an' that's o' at we'n
+getten. But, eh, lasses, when aw coom to do it, aw hadn't th' heart
+to as for nought; aw hadn't for sure. . . . Martha an' me's walked
+aboon ten mile iv we'n walked a yard; an' we geet weet through th'
+first thing; an' aw wur ill when we set off, an' so wur Martha, too;
+aw know hoo wur, though hoo says nought. Well; we coom back through
+t' teawn; an' we were both on us fair stagged up. Aw never were so
+done o'er i' my life, wi' one thing an' another. So we co'de a-
+seein' Ann here; an' hoo made us a rare good baggin'--th' lass did.
+See yo; aw wur fit to drop o'th flags afore aw geet that saup o'
+warm tay into mo--aw wur for sure! An' neaw, hoo's come'd a gate wi'
+us hitherto, an' hoo would have us to have a glass o' warm ale a-
+piece at yon heawse lower deawn a bit; an' aw dar say it'll do mo
+good, aw getten sich a cowd; but, eh dear, it's made mo as mazy as a
+tup; an' neaw, hoo wants us to have another afore we starten off
+whoam. But it's no use; we mun' be gooin' on. Aw'm noan used to it,
+an' aw connot ston it. Aw'm as wake as a kittlin' this minute."
+
+Ann, who had befriended them in this manner, was the handsome young
+woman who seemed to be in work; and now, the poor woman who had been
+telling the story, laid her hand upon her friend's shoulder and
+said, "Ann, thae's behaved very weel to us o' roads; an' neaw, lass,
+go thi ways whoam, an' dunnut fret abeawt us, mon. Aw feel better
+neaw, aw do for sure. We's be reet enough to-morn, lass. Mon,
+there's awlus some way shap't. That tay's done me a deeol o' good. .
+. . Go thi ways whoam, Ann; neaw do; or else aw shan't be yezzy
+abeawt tho!" But Ann, who was wiping her eyes with her apron,
+replied, "Naw, naw; aw will not go yet, Sarah!" . . . And then she
+began to cry, "Eh, lasses; aw dunnot like to see yo o' this shap--aw
+dunnot for sure! Besides, yo'n bin far enough today. Come back wi'
+me. Aw connot find reawm for both on yo; but thee come back wi' me,
+Sarah. Aw'll find thee a good bed: an' thae'rt welcome to a share
+o' what there is--as welcome as th' fleawers i May--thae knows that.
+Thae'rt th' owdest o' th' two; an thae'rt noan fit to trawnce up an'
+deawn o' this shap. Come back to eawr heawse; an' Martha'll go
+forrud to Stopput, (Stockport,)--winnot tho, Martha! . . . Thae
+knows, Martha," continued she, "thae knows, Martha, thae munnot
+think nought at me axin' Sarah, an' noan o' thee. Yo should both on
+yo go back iv aw'd reawm,--but aw haven't. Beside, thae'rt younger
+an' strunger than hoo is." " Eh, God bless tho, lass," replied
+Martha, "aw know o' abeawt it. Aw'd rayther Sarah would stop, for
+hoo'll be ill. Aw can go forrud by mysel', weel enough. It's noan so
+fur, neaw." But, here, Sarah, the eldest of the three, laid her hand
+once more upon the shoulder of her friend, and said in an earnest
+tone, "Ann! it will not do, my lass! Go aw MUN! I never wur away fro
+whoam o' neet i my life,--never! Aw connot do it, mon! Beside, thae
+knows, aw've laft yon lad, an' never a wick soul wi' him! He'd fret
+hissel' to deoth this neet, mon, if aw didn't go whoam! Aw couldn't
+sleep a wink for thinkin' abeawt him! Th' child would be fit to
+start eawt o'th heawse i'th deead time o'th neet a-seechin' mo,--aw
+know he would! . . . Aw mun go, mon: God bless tho, Ann; aw'm
+obleeged to thee o' th' same. But, thae knows heaw it is. Aw mun
+goo!"
+
+Here the omnibus came up, and I rode back to Manchester. The whole
+conversation took up very little more time than it will take to read
+it; but I thought it worth recording, as characteristic of the
+people now suffering in Lancashire from no fault of their own. I
+know the people well. The greatest number of them would starve
+themselves to that degree that they would not be of much more
+physical use in this world, before they would condescend to beg. But
+starving to death is hard work. What will winter bring to them when
+severe weather begins to tell upon constitutions lowered in tone by
+a starvation diet--a diet so different to what they have been used
+to when in work? What will the 1s. 6d. a-head weekly do for them in
+that hard time? If something more than this is not done for them,
+when more food, clothing, and fire are necessary to everybody,
+calamities may arise which will cost England a hundred times more
+than a sufficient relief--a relief worthy of those who are
+suffering, and of the nation they belong to--would have cost. In the
+meantime the cold wings of winter already begin to overshadow the
+land; and every day lost involves the lives, or the future
+usefulness, of thousands of our best population.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+
+WANDERING MINSTRELS; OR, WAILS OF THE WORKLESS POOR.
+
+"For whom the heart of man shuts out,
+Straightway the heart of God takes in,
+And fences them all round about
+With silence, 'mid the world's loud din.
+And one of his great charities
+Is music; and it doth not scorn
+To close the lids upon the eyes
+Of the weary and forlorn."
+--JAMES RUSSEL LOWELL.
+
+There is one feature of the distress in Lancashire which was seen
+strikingly upon the streets of our large towns during some months of
+1862. I allude to the wandering minstrelsy of the unemployed. Swarms
+of strange, shy, sad-looking singers and instrumental performers, in
+the work-worn clothing of factory operatives, went about the busy
+city, pleading for help in touching wails of simple song--like so
+many wild birds driven by hard weather to the haunts of man. There
+is something instructive, as well as affecting, in this feature of
+the troubled time. These wanderers are only a kind of representative
+overflow of a vast number whom our streets will never see. Any one
+well acquainted with Lancashire, will know how widespread the study
+of music is among its working population. Even the inhabitants of
+our large towns know something more about this now than they knew a
+few months ago. I believe there is no part of England in which the
+practice of sacred music is so widely and lovingly pursued amongst
+the working people as in the counties of Lancashire and Yorkshire.
+There is no part of England where, until lately, there have been so
+many poor men's pianos, which have been purchased by a long course
+of careful savings from the workman's wages. These, of course, have
+mostly been sold during the hard times to keep life in the owner and
+his family. The great works of Handel, Haydn, Beethoven, and Mozart
+have solaced the toil of thousands of the poorest working people of
+Lancashire. Anybody accustomed to wander among the moorlands of the
+country will remember how common it is to hear the people practising
+sacred music in their lonely cottages. It is not uncommon to meet
+working men wandering over the wild hills, "where whip and heather
+grow," with their musical instruments, to take part in some village
+oratorio many miles away. "That reminds me," as tale-tellers say, of
+an incident among the hills, which was interesting, though far from
+singular in my experience.
+
+Up in the forest of Rosendale, between Derply Moor and the wild bill
+called Swinshaw, there is a little lone valley, a green cup in the
+mountains, called "Dean." The inhabitants of this valley are so
+notable for their love of music, that they are known all through the
+vales of Rosendale as "Th' Deighn Layrocks," or "The Larks of Dean."
+In the twilight of a glorious Sunday evening, in the height of
+summer, I was roaming over the heathery waste of Swinshaw, towards
+Dean, in company with a musical friend of mine, who lived in the
+neighbouring clough, when we saw a little crowd of people coming
+down a moorland slope, far away in front of us. As they drew nearer,
+we found that many of them had musical instruments, and when we met,
+my friend recognised them as working people living in the district,
+and mostly well known to him. He inquired where they had been; and
+they told him that they had "bin to a bit ov a sing deawn i'th
+Deighn." "Well," said he, "can't we have a tune here?" "Sure, yo
+con, wi' o' th' plezzur i'th world," replied he who acted as
+spokesman; and a low buzz of delighted consent ran through the rest
+of the company. They then ranged themselves in a circle around their
+conductor, and they played and sang several fine pieces of psalmody
+upon the heather-scented mountain top. As those solemn strains
+floated over the wild landscape, startling the moorfowl untimely in
+his nest, I could not help thinking of the hunted Covenanters of
+Scotland. The all-together of that scene upon the mountains,
+"between the gloaming and the mirk," made an impression upon me
+which I shall not easily forget. Long after we parted from them we
+could hear their voices, softening in sound as the distance grew,
+chanting on their way down the echoing glen, and the effect was
+wonderfully fine. This little incident upon the top of Swinshaw is
+representative of things which often occur in the country parts of
+Lancashire, showing how widespread the love of music is among the
+working classes there. Even in great manufacturing towns, it is very
+common, when passing cotton mills at work, to hear some fine psalm
+tune streaming in chorus from female voices, and mingling with the
+spoom of thousands of spindles. The "Larks of Dean," like the rest
+of Lancashire operatives, must have suffered in this melancholy
+time; but I hope that the humble musicians of our county will never
+have occasion to hang their harps upon the willows.
+
+Now, when fortune has laid such a load of sorrow upon the working
+people of Lancashire, it is a sad thing to see so many workless
+minstrels of humble life "chanting their artless notes in simple
+guise" upon the streets of great towns, amongst a kind of life they
+are little used to. There is something very touching, too, in their
+manner and appearance. They may be ill-shod and footsore; they may
+be hungry, and sick at heart, and forlorn in countenance, but they
+are almost always clean and wholesome-looking in person. They come
+singing in twos and threes, and sometimes in more numerous bands, as
+if to keep one another in countenance. Sometimes they come in a
+large family all together, the females with their hymn-books, and
+the men with their different musical instruments,--bits of pet
+salvage from the wrecks of cottage homes. The women have sometimes
+children in their arms, or led by the hand; and they sometimes carry
+music-books for the men. I have seen them, too, with little
+handkerchiefs of rude provender for the day. As I said before, they
+are almost invariably clean in person, and their clothing is almost
+always sound and seemly in appearance, however poor and scanty.
+Amongst these poor wanderers there is none of the reckless personal
+negligence and filth of hopeless reprobacy; neither is there a
+shadow of the professional ostentation of poverty amongst them.
+Their faces are sad, and their manners very often singularly shame-
+faced and awkward; and any careful observer would see at a glance
+that these people were altogether unused to the craft of the trained
+minstrel of the streets. Their clear, healthy complexion, though
+often touched with pallor, their simple, unimportunate demeanour,
+and the general rusticity of their appearance, shows them to be
+
+"Suppliants who would blush
+To wear a tatter'd garb, however coarse;
+Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth;
+Who ask with painful shyness, and refused,
+Because deserving, silently retire."
+
+The females, especially the younger ones, generally walk behind,
+blushing and hiding themselves as much as possible. I have seen the
+men sometimes walk backwards, with their faces towards those who
+were advancing, as if ashamed of what they were doing. And thus they
+went wailing through the busy streets, whilst the listening crowd
+looks on them pityingly and wonderingly, as if they were so many
+hungry shepherds from the mountains of Calabria. This flood of
+strange minstrels partly drowned the slang melodies and the
+monotonous strains of ordinary street musicians for a while. The
+professional gleeman "paled his ineffectual fire" before these
+mournful songsters. I think there never was so much sacred music
+heard upon the streets of Manchester before. With the exception of a
+favourite glee now and then, their music consisted chiefly of fine
+psalm tunes--often plaintive old strains, known and welcome to all,
+because they awaken tender and elevating remembrances of life.
+"Burton," "French," "Kilmarnock," "Luther's Hymn," the grand "Old
+Hundred," and many other fine tunes of similar character, have
+floated daily in the air of our city, for months together. I am sure
+that this choice does not arise from the minstrels themselves having
+craft enough to select "a mournful muse, soft pity to infuse." It is
+the kind of music which has been the practice and pleasure of their
+lives, and it is a fortuitous thing that now, in addition to its
+natural plaintiveness, the sad necessity of the times lends a tender
+accompaniment to their simplest melody. I doubt very much whether
+Leech's minor tunes were ever heard upon our streets till lately.
+Leech was a working man, born near the hills, in Lancashire; and his
+anthems and psalm tunes are great favourites among the musical
+population, especially in the country districts. Leech's harp was
+tuned by the genius of sorrow. Several times lately I have heard the
+tender complaining notes of his psalmody upon the streets of the
+city. About three months ago I heard one of his most pathetic tunes
+sung in the market-place by an old man and two young women. The old
+man's dress had the peculiar hue and fray of factory work upon it,
+and he had a pair of clogs upon his stockingless feet. They were
+singing one of Leech's finest minor tunes to Wesley's hymn:-
+
+"And am I born to die,
+To lay this body down?
+And must my trembling spirit fly
+Into a world unknown?
+A land of deepest shade,
+Unpierced by human thought;
+The dreary country of the dead
+Where all things are forgot."
+
+It is a tune often sung by country people in Lancashire at funerals;
+and, if I remember right, the same melody is cut upon Leech's
+gravestone in the old Wesleyan Chapel-yard, at Rochdale. I saw a
+company of minstrels of the same class going through Brown Street,
+the other day, playing and singing,
+
+"In darkest shades, if Thou appear,
+My dawning is begun."
+
+The company consisted of an old man, two young men, and three young
+women. Two of the women had children in their arms. After I had
+listened to them a little while, thinking the time and the words a
+little appropriate to their condition, I beckoned to one of the
+young men, who came "sidling" slowly up to me. I asked him where
+they came from, and he said, "Ash'n." In answer to another question,
+he said, "We're o' one family. Me an' yon tother's wed. That's his
+wife wi' th' chylt in her arms, an' hur wi' th' plod shawl on's
+mine." I asked if the old man was his father. "Ay," replied he,
+"we're o' here, nobbut two. My mother's ill i' bed, an' one o' my
+sisters is lookin' after her." " Well, an' heaw han yo getten on?"
+said I. "Oh, we'n done weel; but we's come no moor," replied he.
+Another day, there was an instrumental band of these operatives
+playing sacred music close to the Exchange lamp. Amongst the crowd
+around, I met with a friend of mine. He told me that the players
+were from Staleybridge. They played some fine old tunes, by desire,
+and, among the rest, they played one called "Warrington. "When they
+had played it several times over, my friend turned to me and said,
+"That tune was composed by a Rev. Mr Harrison, who was once minister
+of Cross Street Unitarian Chapel, in Manchester; and, one day, an
+old weaver, who had come down from the hills, many miles, staff in
+hand, knocked at the minister's door, and asked if there was 'a
+gentleman co'de' Harrison lived theer?' 'Yes.' 'Could aw see him?'
+'Yes.' When the minister came to the door, the old weaver looked
+hard at him, for a minute, and said, 'Are yo th' mon 'at composed
+that tune co'de Worrington?' 'Yes,' replied the minister, 'I believe
+I am.' 'Well,' said the old weaver, 'give me your hond! It's a good
+un!' He then shook hands with him heartily again, and saying, 'Well,
+good day to yo,' he went his way home again, before the old minister
+could fairly collect his scattered thoughts."
+
+I do not know how it is that these workless minstrels are gradually
+becoming rarer upon the streets than they were a few months ago.
+Perhaps it is because the unemployed are more liberally relieved now
+than they were at first. I know that now many who have concealed
+their starving condition are ferreted out and relieved as far as
+possible. Many of these street wanderers have gone home again
+disgusted, to pinch out the hard time in proud obscurity; and there
+are some, no doubt, who have wandered away to other parts of
+England. Of these last, we may naturally expect that a few may
+become so reconciled to a life of wandering minstrelsy that they may
+probably never return to settled labour again. But "there's a
+divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will." Let us
+trust that the Great Creator may comfort and relieve them,
+"according to their several necessities, giving them patience under
+their sufferings, and a happy issue out of all their afflictions."
+
+
+
+
+LETTER AND SPEECHES UPON THE COTTON FAMINE
+
+
+
+
+LETTERS OF A LANCASHIRE LAD ON THE COTTON FAMINE.
+
+
+
+The following extracts are from the letters of Mr. John Whittaker,
+"A Lancashire Lad," one of the first writers whose appeals through
+the press drew serious attention to the great distress in Lancashire
+during the Cotton Famine. There is no doubt that his letters in The
+Times, and to the Lord Mayor of London, led to the Mansion House
+Fund. In The Times of April 14, 1862, appeared the first of a series
+of letters, pleading the cause of the distressed operatives. He
+said:-
+
+"I am living in the centre of a vast district where there are many
+cotton mills, which in ordinary times afford employment to many
+thousands of 'hands,' and food to many more thousands of mouths.
+With rare exceptions, quietness reigns at all those mills. . . . It
+may be that our material atmosphere is somewhat brighter than it
+was, but our social atmosphere is much darker and denser. Hard times
+have come; and we have had them sufficiently long to know what they
+mean. We have fathers sitting in the house at mid-day, silent and
+glum, while children look wistfully about, and sometimes whimper for
+bread which they cannot have. We have the same fathers who, before
+hard times came, were proud men, who would have thought 'beggar' the
+most opprobrious epithet you could have hit them with; but who now
+are made humble by the sight of wife and children almost starving,
+and who go before 'relief committees,' and submit to be questioned
+about their wants with a patience and humility which it is painful,
+almost schocking, to witness, And some others of these fathers turn
+out in the morning with long besoms as street-sweepers, while others
+again go to breaking stones in the town's yard or open road-side,
+where they are unprotected from the keen east winds, which add a
+little more to the burden of misery which they have to bear just
+now. But, harder even than this, our factory-women and girls have
+had to turn out; and, plodding a weary way from door to door, beg a
+bit of bread or a stray copper, that they may eke out the scanty
+supply at home. Only the other day, while taking a long stroll in
+the country lying about the town in which I live, I met a few of
+these factory-girls, and was stopped by their not very beggar-like
+question of 'Con yo help us a bit?' They were just such as my own
+sisters; and as I saw and heard them, I was almost choked as I
+fancied my sisters come to such a pass as that. 'Con yo help us a
+bit?' asked these factory girls.
+
+. . . I have heard of ladies whose whole lives seem to be but a
+changing from one kind of pleasure to another; who suffer chiefly
+from what they call ennui, (a kind of disease from which my sisters
+are not likely to suffer at all,) and to whom a new pleasure to
+enjoy would be something like what a new world to conquer would be
+to Alexander. Why should they not hear our Lancashire girls' cry of
+'Con yo help us a bit?' Why should not they be reminded that these
+girls in cotton gowns and wooden clogs are wending their way towards
+the same heaven--or, alas, towards the same hell--whither wend all
+the daughters of Eve, no matter what their outer condition and
+dress? Why should not they be asked to think how these striving
+girls have to pray daily, 'Lead us not into temptation,' while
+temptations innumerable stand everywhere about them?
+
+Those of us who are men would rather do much than let our sisters go
+begging. May not some of us take to doing more to prevent it? I
+remember some poetry about the
+
+'Sister bloodhounds, Want and Sin,'
+
+and know that they hunt oftener together than singly. We have felt
+the fangs of the first: upon how many of us will the second
+pounce?"
+
+In a second letter, inserted in The Times of April 22, 1862, the
+same writer says:--"Even during the short time which has elapsed
+since I wrote last week, many things have combined to show that the
+distress is rapidly increasing, and that there is a pressing need
+that we should go beyond the borders of our own county for help. . .
+. I remember what I have read of the Godlike in man, and I look with
+a strange feeling upon the half-famished creatures I see hourly
+about me. I cannot pass through a street but I see evidences of deep
+distress. I cannot sit at home half-an-hour without having one or
+more coming to ask for bread to eat. But what comes casually before
+me is as nothing when compared with that deeper distress which can
+only be seen by those who seek it. . . . There have been families
+who have been so reduced that the only food they have had has been a
+porridge made of Indian meal. They could not afford oatmeal, and
+even of their Indian meal porridge they could only afford to have
+two meals a day. They have been so ashamed of their coarser food
+that they have done all that was possible to hide their desperate
+state from those about them. It has only been by accident that it
+has been found out, and then they have been caught hurriedly putting
+away the dishes that contained their loathsome food. A woman, whose
+name I could give, and whose dwelling I could point to, was said not
+only to be in deep distress, but to be also ill of fever. She was
+visited. On entering the lower room of the house, the visitors saw
+that there was not a scrap of furniture; the woman, fever-stricken,
+sat on an orange-box before a low fire; and to prevent the fire from
+going quite out, she was pulling her seat to pieces for fuel bit by
+bit. The visitors looked upstairs. There was no furniture there--
+only a bit of straw in a corner, which served as the bed of the
+woman's four children. In another case a woman, who was said to be
+too weak to apply for relief, was visited. Her husband had been out
+of work a long time by reason of his illness; he was now of a
+fashion recovered, and had gone off to seek for work. He left his
+wife and three children in their cellar-home. The wife was very near
+her confinement, and had not tasted food for two or three days. . .
+. There are in this town some hundreds of young single women who
+have been self-dependent, but who are now entirely without means.
+Nearly all of these are good English girls, who have quietly fought
+their own life-battle, but who now have hard work to withstand the
+attacks this grim poverty is making. I am told of a case in which
+one of these girls was forced to become one of that class of whom
+poor Hood sang in his 'Bridge of Sighs.' She was an orphan, had no
+relations here, and was tossed about from place to place till she
+found her way to a brothel. Thank God, she has been rescued. Our
+relief fund has been the means of relieving her from that
+degradation; but cannot those who read my letter see how strong are
+the temptations which their want places in the way of these poor
+girls!"
+
+On 25th April a number of city merchants, most of whom were
+interested in the cotton manufacture, waited upon the Lord Mayor of
+London, with a view to interest him, and through him the public at
+large, in the increasing distress among the operative population in
+the manufacturing districts of Lancashire. Previous to this, the
+"Lancashire Lad" had made a private appeal, by letter, to the Lord
+Mayor, in which he said:-
+
+"Local means are nearly exhausted, and I am convinced that if we
+have not help from without, our condition will soon be more
+desperate than I or any one else who possesses human feelings can
+wish it to become. To see the homes of those whom we know and
+respect, though they are but working men, stripped of every bit of
+furniture--to see long-cherished books and pictures sent one by one
+to the pawn-shop, that food may be had--and to see that food almost
+loathsome in kind, and insufficient in quantity,--are hard, very
+hard things to bear. But those are not the worst things. In many of
+our cottage homes there is now nothing left by the pawning of which
+a few pence may be raised, and the mothers and sisters of we
+'Lancashire lads' have turned out to beg, and ofttimes knock at the
+doors of houses in which there is as much destitution as there is in
+our own; while the fathers and the lads themselves think they are
+very fortunate if they can earn a shilling or two by street-sweeping
+or stone breaking. . . . Will you not do for us what you have done
+for others--become the recipient of whatever moneys those who are
+inclined to help us may send to you?"
+
+The Lord Mayor, having listened to the deputation, read them the
+personal appeal, and, "before separating, the deputation engaged to
+form themselves into a provisional committee, to correspond with any
+local one which circumstances might render it desirable to set on
+foot in some central part of the distressed districts." Immediately
+afterwards, the Lord Mayor, on taking his seat in the justice-room,
+stated that "he was ready, with the assistance of the gentlemen of
+the deputation, to act in the way desired. . . . He could not
+himself take any part in the distribution. All he could do was to be
+the medium of transmission; and as soon as he knew that some
+organisation had been formed, either in the great city of
+Manchester, or in some other part of Lancashire, in which the public
+might feel confidence, he should be ready to send the small sums he
+had already received, and any others that might be intrusted to him
+from time to time." And thus originated the first general
+subscription for the cotton operatives, and which, before it closed,
+reached the magnificent sum of 528 pounds,336, 9s. 9d.
+
+
+
+MR COBDEN'S SPEECH ON THE COTTON FAMINE.
+
+
+
+On the 29th of April 1862, a meeting of gentlemen residents, called
+by Thomas Goadsby, Esq., Mayor of Manchester, was held in the Town
+Hall of that city, to consider the propriety of forming a relief
+committee. '"The late Mr Richard Cobden, M.P., attended, and
+recommended a bold appeal to the whole country, declaring with
+prophetic keenness of vision that not less than 1,000,000 pounds
+would be required to carry the suffering operatives through the
+crisis, whilst the subscriptions up to that date amounted only to
+180,000 pounds." On the motion of a vote of thanks to the Mayor of
+Manchester, who was retiring from the mayoralty, Mr Cobden said:-
+
+"Before that resolution is passed, I will take the opportunity of
+making an observation. I have had the honour of having my name added
+to this committee, and the first thing I asked of my neighbour here
+was--'What are the functions of the general committee?' And I have
+heard that they amount to nothing more than to attend here once a
+month, and receive the report of the executive committee as to the
+business done and the distribution of the funds. I was going to
+suggest to you whether the duties of the general committee might not
+be very much enlarged--whether it might not be employed very
+usefully in increasing the amount of subscriptions. I think all our
+experience must have taught us that, with the very best cause in the
+world in hand, the success of a public subscription depends very
+much upon the amount of activity in those who solicit it; and I
+think, in order to induce us to make a general and national effort
+to raise additional funds in this great emergency, it is only
+necessary to refer to and repeat one or two facts that have been
+stated in this report just read to us. I find it stated that it is
+estimated that the loss of wages at present is at the rate of
+136,094 pounds per week, and there is no doubt that the savings of
+the working classes are almost exhausted. Now, 136,094 pounds per
+week represents upwards of 7,000,000 pounds sterling per annum, and
+that is the rate at which the deduction is now being made from the
+wages of labour in this district.
+
+I see it stated in this report that the resources which this
+committee can at present foresee that it will possess to relieve
+this amount of distress are 25,000 pounds a month for the next five
+months, which is at the rate of 300,000 pounds per annum; so that we
+foresee at present the means of affording a relief of something less
+than five per cent upon the actual amount of the loss of wages at
+present incurred by the working classes of this country. But I need
+not tell honourable gentlemen present, who are so practically
+acquainted with this district, that that loss of seven millions in
+wages per annum is a very imperfect measure of the amount of
+suffering and loss which will be inflicted on this community three
+or four months hence. It may be taken to be 10,000,000 pounds; and
+that 10,000,000 pounds of loss of wages before the next spring is by
+no means a measure of the loss this district will incur; for you
+must take it that the capitalists will be incurring also a loss on
+their fixed machinery and buildings; and though perhaps not so much
+as that of the labourer, it will be a very large amount, and
+possibly, in the opinion of some people, will very nearly approach
+it.
+
+That is not all: Mr Farnall has told us that at present the
+increase of the rates in this district is at the rate of 10,000
+pounds per week. That will be at the rate of half a million per
+annum, and, of course, if this distress goes on, that rate must be
+largely increased, perhaps doubled. This shows the amount of
+pressure which is threatening this immediate district. I have always
+been of opinion that this distress and suffering must be cumulative
+to a degree which few people have ever foreseen, because your means
+of meeting the difficulty will diminish just in proportion as the
+difficulty will increase. Mr Farnall has told us that one-third of
+the rateable property will fall out of existence, as it were, and
+future rates must be levied upon two-thirds. But that will be by no
+means the measure of the condition of things two or three months
+hence, because every additional rate forces out of existence a large
+amount of saleable property; and the more you increase your rates
+the more you diminish the area over which those rates are to be
+productive. This view of the case has a very important bearing,
+also, upon the condition of the shop-keeping class as well as the
+classes of mill-owners and manufacturers who have not a large amount
+of floating capital. There is no doubt but a very large amount of
+the shopkeeping class are rapidly falling into the condition of the
+unemployed labourers.
+
+When I was at Rochdale the other day, I heard a very sorrowful
+example of it. There was a poor woman who kept a shop, and she was
+threatened with a distraint for her poor-rate. She sold the Sunday
+clothes of her son to pay the poor-rate, and she received a relief-
+ticket when she went to leave her rate. That is a sad and sorrowful
+example, but I am afraid it will not be a solitary one for a long
+time. Then you have the shopkeeping class descending to the rank of
+the operatives. It must be so. Withdraw the custom of 7,000,000
+pounds per annum, which has ceased to be paid in wages, from the
+shopkeepers, and the consequence must present itself to any rational
+mind. We have then another class--the young men of superior
+education employed in warehouses and counting-houses. A great number
+of these will rapidly sink to the condition in which you find the
+operative classes. All this will add to the distress and the
+embarrassment of this part of the kingdom. Now, to meet this state
+of things you have the poor-law relief, which is the only relief we
+can rely upon, except that which comes from our own voluntary
+exertions. Well, but any one who has read over this report of Mr
+Farnall, just laid before us, must see how inadequate this relief
+must be. It runs up from one shilling and a half-penny in the pound
+to one shilling and fourpence or one shilling and fivepence; there
+is hardly one case in which the allowance is as much as two
+shillings per week for each individual--I won't call them paupers--
+each distressed individual.
+
+Now, there is one point to which I would wish to bring the attention
+of the committee in reference to this subject--it is a most
+important one, in my appreciation. In ordinary times, when you give
+relief to the poor, that relief being given when the great mass of
+workpeople are in full employment, the measure of your relief to an
+isolated family or two that may be in distress is by no means the
+measure of the amount of their subsistence, because we all know that
+in prosperous times, when the bulk of the working people are
+employed, they are always kind to each other. The poor, in fact, do
+more to relieve the poor than any other class. A working man and his
+family out of employment in prosperous times could get a meal at a
+neighbour's house, just as we, in our class, could get a meal at a
+neighbour's house if it was a convenience to us in making a journey.
+But recollect, now the whole mass of the labouring and working
+population is brought down to one sad level of destitution, and what
+you allow them from the poor-rates, and what you allow them from
+these voluntary subscriptions, are actually the measure of all that
+they will obtain for their subsistence. And that being so general,
+producing a great depression of spirits, as well as physical
+prostration, you are in great danger of the health and strength of
+this community suffering, unless something more be done to meet the
+case than I fear is yet provided for it. All this brings me to this
+conclusion--that something more must be done by this general
+committee than has been done, to awaken the attention of the public
+generally to the condition of this part of the country. It is
+totally exceptional. The state of things has no parallel in all
+history. It is impossible you could point out to me another case, in
+which, in a limited sphere, such as we have in Lancashire, and in
+the course of a few months, there has been a cessation of employment
+at the rate of 7,000,000 pounds sterling per annum in wages. There
+has been nothing like it in the history of the world for its
+suddenness, for the impossibility of dealing with it, or managing it
+in the way of an effective remedy.
+
+Well, the country at large must be made acquainted with these facts.
+How is that to be done? It can only be by the diffusion of
+information from this central committee. An appeal must be made to
+the whole country, if this great destitution is to be met in any
+part by voluntary aid. The nation at large must be made fully
+acquainted with the exigency of the case, and we must be reminded
+that a national responsibility rests upon us. I will, therefore,
+suggest that this general committee should be made a national
+committee, and we shall then get rid of this little difficulty with
+the Lord Mayor. We shall want all the co-operation of the Lord Mayor
+and the city of London; and I say that this committee, instead of
+being a Manchester or Lancashire central committee, should be made a
+national committee; that from this should go forth invitations to
+all parts of the country, beginning with the lords-lieutenant,
+inviting them to be vice-presidents of this committee. Let the noble
+Lord continue to be at the head of the general committee--the
+national committee--and invite every mayor to take part. We are
+going to have new mayors in the course of the week, and, though I am
+sorry to lose our present one, yet when new mayors come in, they may
+be probably more ready to take up a new undertaking than if they had
+just been exhausted with a years labour. Let every mayor in the
+kingdom be invited to become a member of this committee. Let
+subscription-circulars be despatched to them asking them to organise
+a committee in every borough; and let there be a secretary and
+honorary secretary employed. Through these bodies you might
+communicate information, and counteract those misrepresentations
+that have been made with regard to the condition of this district.
+
+You might, if necessary, send an ambassador to some of those more
+important places; but better still, if you could induce them to send
+some one here to look into the state of things for themselves;
+because I am sure if they did, so far from finding the calumnies
+that have been uttered against the propertied classes in this county
+being well founded, they would find instances--and not a few--of
+great liberality and generosity, such as I think would surprise any
+one who visited this district from the southern part of the kingdom.
+
+This would only be done by an active effort from the centre here,
+and I submit that we shall not be doing justice to this effort
+unless we give to the whole country an opportunity of co-operating
+in that way, and throw upon every part of the kingdom a share of the
+responsibility of this great crisis and emergency. I submit that
+there is every motive why this community, as well as the whole
+kingdom, should wish to preserve this industrious population in
+health and in the possession of their energies. There is every
+motive why we should endeavour to keep this working population here
+rather than drive them away from here, as you will do if they are
+not sufficiently fed and clothed during the next winter. They will
+be wanted again if this district is to revive, as we all hope and
+believe it will revive. Your fixed capital here is of no use without
+the population. It is of no use without your raw material.
+Lancashire is the richest county in the kingdom when its machinery
+is employed; it is the poorest county in the kingdom when its
+machinery and fixed capital are paralysed, as at present. Therefore,
+I say it is the interest, not only of this community, but of the
+kingdom, that this population should be preserved for the time--I
+hope not a distant time--when the raw material of their industry
+will be supplied to this region.
+
+I submit; then, to the whole kingdom--this district as well as the
+rest--that it will be advisable, until Parliament meets, that such
+an effort should be made as will make a national subscription amount
+probably to 1,000,000 pounds. Short of that, it would be utterly
+insufficient for the case; and I believe that, with an energetic
+appeal made to the whole country, and an effort organised such as I
+have indicated, such an amount might be raised."
+
+
+
+SPEECH OF THE EARL OF DERBY
+
+
+
+AT THE COUNTY MEETING, ON THE 2D DECEMBER 1863.
+THE EARL OF SEFTON IN THE CHAIR.
+
+The thirteen hundred circulars issued by the Earl of Sefton, Lord-
+Lieutenant of Lancashire, "brought together such a gathering of
+rank, and wealth, and influence, as is not often to be witnessed;
+and the eloquent advocate of class distinctions and aristocratic
+privileges (the Earl of Derby) became on that day the powerful and
+successful representative of the poor and helpless." Called upon by
+the chairman, the Earl of Derby said:-
+
+"My Lord Sefton, my Lords and Gentlemen,--We are met together upon
+an occasion which must call forth the most painful, and at the same
+time ought to excite, and I am sure will excite, the most kindly
+feelings of our human nature. We are met to consider the best means
+of palliating--would to God that I could say removing!--a great
+national calamity, the like whereof in modern times has never been
+witnessed in this favoured land--a calamity which it was impossible
+for those who are the chief sufferers by it to foresee, or, if they
+had foreseen, to have taken any steps to avoid--a calamity which,
+though shared by the nation at large, falls more peculiarly and with
+the heaviest weight upon this hitherto prosperous and wealthy
+district--a calamity which has converted this teeming hive of
+industry into a stagnant desert of compulsory inaction and idleness-
+-a calamity which has converted that which was the source of our
+greatest wealth into the deepest abyss of impoverishment--a calamity
+which has impoverished the wealthy, which has reduced men of easy
+fortunes to the greatest straits, which has brought distress upon
+those who have hitherto been somewhat above the world by the
+exercise of frugal industry, and which has reduced honest and
+struggling poverty to a state of absolute and humiliating
+destitution. Gentlemen, it is to meet this calamity that we are met
+together this day, to add our means and our assistance to those
+efforts which have been so nobly made throughout the country
+generally, and, I am bound to say, in this county also, as I shall
+prove to you before I conclude my remarks. Gentlemen, I know how
+impossible it is by any figures to convey an idea of the extent of
+the destitution which now prevails, and I know also how impatient
+large assemblies are of any extensive use of figures, or even of
+figures at all; but at the same time, it is impossible for me to lay
+before you the whole state of the case, in opening this resolution,
+and asking you to resolve with regard to the extent of the distress
+which now prevails, without trespassing on your attention by a few,
+and they shall be a very few, figures, which shall show the extent,
+if not the pressure, throughout this district, of the present
+distress. And, gentlemen, I think I shall best give you an idea of
+the amount of distress and destitution which prevails, by very
+shortly comparing the state of things which existed in the districts
+to which I refer in the month of September 1861, as compared with
+the month of September 1862, and with that again only about two
+weeks ago, which is the latest information we have--up to the 22d of
+last month.
+
+I find then, gentlemen, that in a district comprising, in round
+numbers, two million inhabitants--for that is about the number in
+that district--in the fourth week of September 1861, there were
+forty-three thousand five hundred persons receiving parochial
+relief; in the fourth week of September 1862, there were one hundred
+and sixty-three thousand four hundred and ninety-eight persons
+receiving parochial relief; and in the short space which elapsed
+between the last week of September and the third week of November
+the number of one hundred and sixty-three thousand four hundred and
+ninety-eight had increased to two hundred and fifty-nine thousand
+three hundred and eighty-five persons. Now, gentlemen, let us in the
+same periods compare the amount which was applied from the parochial
+funds to the relief of pauperism. In September 1861, the amount so
+applied was 2259 pounds; in September 1862, it was 9674 pounds. That
+is by the week. What is now the amount? In November 1862 it was
+17,681 pounds for the week. The proportion of those receiving
+parochial relief to the total population was two and three-tenths
+per cent in September 1861, and eight and five-tenths per cent in
+September 1862, and that had become thirteen and five-tenths percent
+in the population in November 1862. Here, therefore, is thirteen per
+cent of the whole population at the present moment depending for
+their subsistence upon parochial relief alone. Of these two hundred
+and fifty-nine thousand--I give only round numbers--there were
+thirty-six thousand eight hundred old or infirm; there were nearly
+ninety-eight thousand able-bodied adults receiving parochial relief,
+and there were under sixteen years of age nearly twenty-four
+thousand persons. But it would be very far from giving you an
+estimate of the extent of the distress if we were to confine our
+observations to those who are dependent upon parochial relief alone.
+
+We have evidence from the local committees, whom we have extensively
+employed, and whose services have been invaluable to us, that of
+persons not relieved from the poor-rates there are relieved also by
+local committees no fewer in this district than one hundred and
+seventy-two thousand persons--making a total of four hundred and
+thirty-one thousand three hundred and ninety-five persons out of two
+millions, or twenty-one and seven-tenths per cent on the whole
+population--that is, more than one in every five persons depend for
+their daily existence either upon parochial relief or public
+charity. Gentlemen, I have said that figures will not show
+sufficiently the amount of distress; nor, in the same manner, will
+figures show, I am happy to say, the amount that has been
+contributed for the relief of that distress. But let us take another
+test; let us examine what has been the result, not upon the poor who
+are dependent for their daily bread upon their daily labour, and
+many of whom are upon the very verge of pauperism, from day to day,
+but let us take a test of what has been the effect upon the well-to-
+do artisan, upon the frugal, industrious, saving men, who have been
+hitherto somewhat above the world, and I have here but an imperfect
+test, because I am unable to obtain the whole amount of deposits
+withdrawn from the savings banks, the best of all possible tests, if
+we could carry the account up to the present day; but I have only
+been able to obtain it to the middle of June last, when the distress
+could hardly be said to have begun, and yet I find from seven
+savings banks alone in this county in six months--and those months
+in which the distress had not reached its present height, or
+anything like it--there was an excess of withdrawals of deposits
+over the ordinary average to the amount of 71,113 pounds. This was
+up to June last, when, as I have said, the pressure had hardly
+commenced, and from that time it as been found impossible to obtain
+from the savings banks, who are themselves naturally unwilling to
+disclose this state of affairs--it has been found impossible to
+obtain such further returns as would enable us to present to you any
+proper estimate of the excess of withdrawals at present; but that
+they have been very large must necessarily be inferred from the
+great increase of distress which has taken place since the large sum
+I have mentioned was obtained from the banks, as representing the
+excess of ordinary withdrawals in June last.
+
+Now, gentlemen, figure to yourselves, I beg of you, what a state of
+things that sum of 71,113 pounds, as the excess of the average
+withdrawals from the savings banks represents; what an amount of
+suffering does it picture; what disappointed hopes; what a prospect
+of future distress does it not bring before you for the working and
+industrious classes? Why, gentlemen, it represents the blighted
+hopes for life of many a family. It represents the small sum set
+apart by honest, frugal, persevering industry, won by years of toil
+and self-denial, in the hope of its being, as it has been in many
+cases before, the foundation even of colossal fortunes which have
+been made from smaller sums. It represents the gradual decay of the
+hopes for his family of many an industrious artisan. The first step
+in that downward progress which has led to destitution and pauperism
+is the withdrawal of the savings of honest industry, and that is
+represented in the return which I have quoted to you. Then comes the
+sacrifice of some little cherished article of furniture--the cutting
+off of some little indulgence--the sacrifice of that which gave his
+home an appearance of additional comfort and happiness--the
+sacrifice gradually, one by one, of the principal articles of
+furniture, till at last the well-conducted, honest, frugal, saving
+working man finds himself on a level with the idle, the dissipated,
+and the improvident--obliged to pawn the very clothes of his family-
+-nay, the very bedding on which he lies, to obtain the simple means
+of subsistence from day to day, and encountering all that difficulty
+and all that distress with the noble independence that would do
+anything rather than depend upon public or even on private charity,
+and in his own simple but emphatic language declaring, 'Nay, but
+we'll CLEM first.'
+
+And, gentlemen, this leads me to observe upon a more gratifying
+point of view, that is, the noble manner, a manner beyond all
+praise, in which this destitution has been borne by the population
+of this great county. It is not the case of ordinary labourers who
+find themselves reduced a trifle below their former means of
+subsistence, but it is a reduction in the pecuniary comfort, and
+almost necessaries, of men who have been in the habit of living, if
+not in luxury, at least in the extreme of comfort--a reduction to
+two shillings and three shillings a week from sums which had usually
+amounted to twenty-five shillings, or thirty shillings, or forty
+shillings; a cutting off of all their comforts, cutting off all
+their hopes of future additional comfort, or of rising in life--
+aggravated by a feeling, an honourable, an honest, but at the same
+time a morbid feeling, of repugnance to the idea of being indebted
+under these circumstances to relief of any kind or description. And
+I may say that, among the difficulties which have been encountered
+by the local relief committees--no doubt there have been many of
+those not among the most deserving who have been clamorous for the
+aid held out to them--but one of the great difficulties of local
+relief committees has been to find out and relieve struggling and
+really-distressed merit, and to overcome that feeling of
+independence which, even under circumstances like these, leads them
+to shrink from being relieved by private charity. I know that
+instances of this kind have happened; I know that cases have
+occurred where it has been necessary to press upon individuals,
+themselves upon the point of starvation, the necessity of accepting
+this relief; and from this place I take the opportunity of saying,
+and I hope it will go far and wide, that in circumstances like the
+present, discreditable as habitual dependence upon parochial relief
+may be, it is no degradation, it is no censure, it is no possible
+cause of blame, that any man, however great his industry, however
+high his character, however noble his feeling of self-dependence,
+should feel himself obliged to have recourse to that Christian
+charity which I am sure we are all prepared to give. Gentlemen, I
+might perhaps here, as far as my resolution goes, close the
+observations I have to make to you. The resolution I have to move,
+indeed, is one which calls for no extensive argument; and a plain
+statement of facts, such as that I have laid before you, is
+sufficient to obtain for it your unanimous assent. The resolution
+is:-
+
+"'That the manufacturing districts of Lancashire and the adjoining
+counties are suffering from an extent of destitution happily
+hitherto unknown, which has been borne by the working classes with a
+patient submission and resolution entitling them to the warmest
+sympathy of their fellow-countrymen.'
+
+"But, gentlemen, I cannot, in the first place, lose the opportunity
+of asking this great assembly with what feelings this state of
+things should be contemplated by us who are in happier
+circumstances. Let me say with all reverence that it is a subject
+for deep national humiliation, and, above all, for deep humiliation
+for this great county. We have been accustomed for years to look
+with pride and complacency upon the enormous growth of that
+manufacture which has conferred wealth upon so many thousands, and
+which has so largely increased the manufacturing population and
+industry of this country. We have seen within the last twelve or
+fourteen years the consumption of cotton in Europe increase from
+fifty thousand to ninety thousand bales a week; we have seen the
+weight of cotton goods exported from this country in the shape of
+yarn and manufactured goods amount to no less than nine hundred and
+eighty-three million pounds in a single year. We have seen, in spite
+of all opposing circumstances, this trade constantly and rapidly
+extending; we have seen colossal fortunes made; and we have as a
+county, perhaps, been accustomed to look down on those less
+fortunate districts whose wealth and fortunes were built upon a less
+secure foundation; we have reckoned upon this great manufacture as
+the pride of our country, and as the best security against the
+possibility of war, in consequence of the mutual interest between us
+and the cotton-producing districts.
+
+We have held that in the cotton manufacture was the pride, the
+strength, and the certainty of our future national prosperity and
+peace. I am afraid we have looked upon this trade too much in the
+spirit of the Assyrian monarch of old. We have said to ourselves:--
+'Is not this great Babylon, that I have built for the house of my
+kingdom by the might of my power, and for the honour of my majesty?'
+But in the hour in which the monarch used these words the word came
+forth, 'Thy kingdom is departed from thee!' That which was his pride
+became his humiliation; that which was our pride has become our
+humiliation and our punishment. That which was the source of our
+wealth--the sure foundation on which we built--has become itself the
+instrument of our humiliating poverty, which compels us to appeal to
+the charity of other counties. The reed upon which we leaned has
+gone through the hand that reposed on it, and has pierced us to the
+heart.
+
+But, gentlemen, we have happier and more gratifying subjects of
+contemplation. I have pointed to the noble conduct which must make
+us proud of our countrymen in the mmiufacturing districts; I have
+pointed to the noble and heroic submission to difficulties they
+could never foresee, and privations they never expected to
+encounter; but again, we have another feeling which I am sure will
+not be disappointed, which the country has nobly met--that this is
+an opportunity providentially given to those who are blessed with
+wealth and fortune to show their sympathy--their practical, active,
+earnest sympathy--with the sufferings of their poorer brethren, and,
+with God's blessing, used as I trust by God's blessing it will be,
+it may be a link to bind together more closely than ever the various
+classes in this great community, to satisfy the wealthy that the
+poor have a claim, not only to their money, but to their sympathy--
+to satisfy the poor also that the rich are not overbearing, grinding
+tyrants, but men like themselves, who have hearts to feel for
+suffering, and are prompt to use the means God has given to them for
+the relief of that suffering.
+
+Gentlemen, a few words more, and I will not further trespass on your
+attention. But I feel myself called on, as chairman of that
+executive committee to which my noble friend in the chair has paid
+so just a compliment, to lay before you some answer to objections
+which have been made, and which in other counties, if not in this,
+may have a tendency to check the contributions which have hitherto
+so freely flowed in. Before doing so, allow me to say (and I can do
+it with more freedom, because in the, earlier stages of its
+organisation I was not a member of that committee) it is bare
+justice to them to say that there never was an occasion on which
+greater or more earnest efforts were made to secure that the
+distribution of those funds intrusted to them should be guarded
+against all possibility of abuse, and be distributed without the
+slightest reference to political or religious opinions; distributed
+with the most perfect impartiality, and in every locality, through
+the instrumentality of persons in whom the neighbourhood might
+repose entire confidence. Such has been our endeavour, and I think
+to a great extent we have been successful. I may say that, although
+the central executive committee is composed of men of most
+discordant opinions in politics and religion, nothing for a single
+moment has interfered with the harmony--I had almost said with the
+unanimity--of our proceedings. There has been nothing to produce any
+painful feelings among us, nor any desire on the part of the
+representatives of different districts to obtain an undue share for
+the districts they represented from the common fund.
+
+But there are three points on which objection has being taken to the
+course we have adopted. One has been, that the relief we have given
+has not been given with a sufficiently liberal hand; the next--and I
+think I shall show you that these two are inconsistent, the one
+answering the other--is, that there has not been a sufficient
+pressure on the local rates; and the third is, that Lancashire has
+not hitherto done its duty with reference to the subscriptions from
+other parts of the country. Allow me a few words on each of these
+subjects.
+
+First, the amount to which we have endeavoured to raise our
+subscriptions has been to the extent of from two shillings to two
+shillings and sixpence weekly per head; in this late cold weather an
+additional sixpence has been provided, mainly for coal and clothing.
+Our endeavour has been to raise the total income of each individual
+to at least two shillings or two shillings and sixpence a week. Now,
+I am told that this is a very inadequate amount, and no doubt it is
+an amount very far below that which many of the recipients were in
+the habit of obtaining. But in the first place, I think there is
+some misapprehension when we speak of the sum of two shillings a
+week. If anybody supposes that two shillings a week is the maximum
+to each individual, he will be greatly mistaken. Two shillings a
+head per week is the sum we endeavoured to arrive at as the average
+receipt of every man, woman, and child receiving assistance;
+consequently, a man and his wife with a family of three or four
+small children would receive, not two shillings, but ten or twelve
+shillings from the fund--an amount not far short of that which in
+prosperous times an honest and industrious labourer in other parts
+of the country would obtain for the maintenance of his family. I am
+not in the least afraid that, if we had fixed the amount at four
+shillings or five shillings per head, such is the liberality of the
+country, we should not have had sufficient means of doing so. But
+were we justified in doing that? If we had raised their income
+beyond that of the labouring man in ordinary times, we should have
+gone far to destroy the most valuable feeling of the manufacturing
+population--namely, that of honest self-reliance, and we should have
+done our best, to a great extent, to demoralise a large portion of
+the population, and induce them to prefer the wages of charitable
+relief to the return of honest industry. But then we are told that
+the rates are not sufficiently high in the distressed districts, and
+that we ought to raise them before we come on the fund. In the first
+place, we have no power to compel the guardians to raise the rates
+beyond that which they think sufficient for the maintenance of those
+to be relieved, and, naturally considering themselves the trustees
+of the ratepayers, they are unwilling, and, indeed, ought not to
+raise the amount beyond that which is called for by absolute
+necessity. But suppose we had raised the relief from our committee
+very far beyond the amount thought sufficient by the guardians, what
+would have been the inevitable result? Why, that the rates which it
+is desired to charge more heavily would have been relieved, because
+persons would have taken themselves off the poor-rates, and placed
+themselves on the charitable committee, and therefore the very
+object theso objectors have in view in calling for an increase of
+our donations would have been defeated by their own measure. I must
+say, however, honestly speaking all I feel, that, with regard to the
+amount of rates, there are some districts which have applied to us
+for assistance which I think have not sufficient pressure on their
+rates. Where I find, for example, that the total assessment on the
+nett rateable value does not exceed ninepence or tenpence in the
+pound, I really think such districts ought to be called upon to
+increase their rates before applying for extraneous help. But we
+have urged as far as we could urge--we have no power to command the
+guardians to be more liberal in the rate of relief, and to that
+extent to raise the rates in their districts.
+
+And now a word on the subject of raising rates, because I have
+received many letters in which it has been said that the rates are
+nothing--'they are only three shillings or four shillings in the
+pound, while we in the agricultural districts are used to six
+shillings in the pound. We consider that no extraordinary rate, and
+it is monstrous,' they say, 'that the accumulated wealth of years in
+the county of Lancashire should not more largely contribute to the
+relief of its own distress.' I will not enter into an argument as to
+how far the larger amount of wages in the manufacturing districts
+may balance the smaller--amount of wages and the larger amount of
+poor-rates in the agricultural districts. I don't wish to enter into
+any comparison; I have seen many comparisons of this kind made, but
+they were full of fallacies from one end to the other. I will not
+waste your time by discussing them; but I ask you to consider the
+effect of a sudden rise of rates as a charge upon the accumulated
+wealth of a district. It is not the actual amount of the rates, but
+it is the sudden and rapid increase of the usual rate of the rates
+that presses most heavily on the ratepayers. In the long run, the
+rates must fall on real property, because all bargains between owner
+and occupier are made with reference to the amount of rates to be
+paid, and in all calculations between them, that is an element which
+enters into the first agreement. But when the rate is suddenly
+increased from one shilling to four shillings, it does not fall on
+the accumulated wealth or on the real property, but it falls on the
+occupier, the ratepayer--men, the great bulk of whom are at the
+present moment themselves struggling upon the verge of pauperism.
+Therefore, if in those districts it should appear to persons
+accustomed to agricultural districts that the amount of our rates
+was very small, I would say to them that any attempt to increase
+those rates would only increase the pauperism, diminish the number
+of solvent ratepayers, and greatly aggravate the distress. In some
+of the districts I think the amount of the rates quite sufficient to
+satisfy the most ardent advocate of high rates. For example, in the
+town of Ashton they have raised in the course of the year one rate
+of one shilling and sixpence, another of one shilling and six-pence,
+and a third of four shillings and sixpence, which it is hoped will
+carry them over the year. They have also, in addition to these
+rates, drawn largely on previous balances, and I am afraid have
+largely added to their debt. The total of what has been or will be
+expended, with a prospect of even a great increase, in that borough
+exceeds eleven shillings and elevenpence in the pound for the relief
+of the poor alone. And, gentlemen, this rate of four shillings and
+sixpence about to be levied, which ought to yield about 32,000
+pounds, it is calculated will not yield 24,000 pounds. In Stockport
+the rate is even higher, being twelve shillings or more per pound,
+and there it is calculated that at the next levy the defalcations
+will be at least forty per cent, according to the calculation of the
+poor-law commissioner himself. To talk, then, of raising rates in
+such districts as these would be absolute insanity; and even in
+districts less heavily rated, any sudden attempt considerably to
+increase the rate would have the effect of pauperising those who are
+now solvent, and to augment rather than diminish the distress of the
+district.
+
+The last point on which I would make an observation relates to the
+objection which has been taken to our proceedings, on the ground
+that Lancashire has not done its duty in this distress, and that
+consequently other parts of the country have been unduly called on
+to contribute to that which I don't deny properly and primarily
+belongs to Lancashire. Gentlemen, it is very hard to ascertain with
+any certainty what has been done by Lancashire, because, in the
+first place, the amount of local subscriptions and the amount of
+public contributions by themselves give no fair indication of that
+which really has been done by public or private charity. I don't
+mean to say that there are not individuals who have grossly
+neglected their duty in Lancashire. On the other hand, we know there
+are many, though I am not about to name them, who have acted with
+the most princely munificence, liberality, and generous feeling,
+involving an amount of sacrifice of which no persons out of this
+county can possibly have the slightest conception. I am not saying
+there are not instances of niggard feeling, though I am not about to
+name them, which really it was hardly possible to believe could
+exist.
+
+Will you forgive me if I trespass for a few moments by reading two
+or three extracts from confidential reports made to us every week
+from the different districts by a gentleman whose services were
+placed at our disposal by the Government? These reports being, as I
+have said, confidential, I will not mention the names of the
+persons, firms, or localities alluded to, though in some instances
+they may be guessed at. This report was made to us on the 25th of
+November, and I will quote some of the remarks made in it. The
+writer observes:--'It must not be inferred when such remarks are
+absent from the reports that nothing is done. I have great
+difficulty sometimes in overcoming the feeling that my questions on
+these points are a meddlesome interference in private matters.'
+Bearing that remark in mind, I say here are instances which I am
+sure reflect as much credit on the individuals as on the interest
+they represent and the county to which they belong. I am sure I
+shall be excused for trespassing on your patience by reading a few
+examples. He says, under No.1,--'Nearly three thousand operatives
+out of the whole, most of them the hands of Messrs __ and Mr __, at
+his own cost, employs five hundred and fifty-five girls in sewing
+five days a week, paying them eightpence a day; sends seventy-six
+youths from thirteen to fourteen years old, and three hundred and
+thirty-two adults above fifteen, five days a week to school, paying
+them from fourpence to eightpence per day, according to age. He also
+pays the school pence of all the children. Mr __ has hitherto paid
+his people two days' wages a week, but he is now preparing to adopt
+a scheme like Mr __ to a great extent. I would add that, in addition
+to wages, Mr __ gives bread, soup, socks, and clogs. 2. Mr __ has at
+his own expense caused fifty to sixty dinners to be provided for
+sick persons every day. These consist of roast beef or mutton, soup,
+beef-tea, rice-puddings, wine, and porter, as ordered; and the forty
+visitors distribute orders as they find it necessary. Ostensibly all
+is done in the name of the committee; but Mr __ pays all the cost.
+An admirable soup kitchen is being fitted up, where the poor man may
+purchase a good hot meal for one penny, and either carry it away or
+consume it on the premises. 3. Messrs __ are giving to their hands
+three days' wages (about 500 pounds a week.) Messrs __ and __ are
+giving their one hundred and twenty hands, and Messrs their two
+hundred and thirty hands, two days' wages a week. I may mention that
+Messrs __ are providing for all their one thousand seven hundred
+hands. 4. A great deal of private charity exists, one firm having
+spent 1400 pounds in money, exclusive of weekly doles of bread. 5.
+Messrs __ are providing all their old hands with sufficient clothing
+and bedding to supply every want, so that their subscription of 50
+pounds is merely nominal. 6. The ladies of the village visit and
+relieve privately with money, food, or clothing, or all, if needed
+urgently. In a few cases distraint has been threatened, but
+generally the poor are living rent free. 7. Payment of rent is
+almost unknown. The agent for several landlords assures me he could
+not from his receipts pay the property-tax, but no distraints are
+made. 8. The bulk of the rents are not collected, and distraints are
+unknown. 9. The millowners are chiefly cottage-owners, and are
+asking for no rents.'
+
+That leads me to call your attention to the fact that, in addition
+to the sacrifices they are making, the millowners are themselves to
+a large extent the owners of cottages, and I believe, without
+exception, they are at the present moment receiving no rent, thereby
+losing a large amount of income they had a right to count upon. I
+know one case which is curious as showing how great is the
+difficulty of ascertaining what is really done. It is required in
+the executive committee that every committee should send in an
+account of the local subscriptions. We received an application from
+a small district where there was one mill, occupied by some young
+men who had just entered into the business. We returned a refusal,
+inasmuch as there was no local subscription; but when we came to
+inquire, we found that from last February, when the mill closed,
+these young men had maintained the whole of their hands, that they
+paid one-third of the rates of the whole district, and that they
+were at that moment suffering a yearly loss of 300 pounds in the
+rent of cottages for which they were not drawing a single halfpenny.
+That was a case in which we thought it right in the first instance
+to withhold any assistance, because there appeared to be no local
+subscription, and it shows how persons at a distance may be deceived
+by the want apparently of any local subscription. But I will throw
+out of consideration the whole of those amounts--the whole of this
+unparalleled munificence on the part of many manufacturers which
+never appears in any account whatever--I will throw out everything
+done in private and unostentatious charity--the supplies of bedding,
+clothing, food, necessaries of every description, which do not
+appear as public subscriptions, and will appeal to public
+subscriptions alone; and I will appeal to an authority which cannot,
+I think, be disputed--the authority of the commissioner, Mr Farnall
+himself, whose services the Government kindly placed at our
+disposal, and of whose activity, industry, and readiness to assist
+us, it is difficult to speak in too high terms of praise. A better
+authority could not be quoted on the subject of the comparative
+support given in aid of this distress in Lancashire and other
+districts. I find that, excluding altogether the subscriptions in
+the Lord Mayor's Mansion House list--of which we know the general
+amount, but not the sources from which it is derived, or how it is
+expended--but excluding it from consideration, and dealing only with
+the funds which have been given or promised to be administered
+through the central executive committee, I find that, including some
+of the subscriptions which we know are coming in this day, the total
+amount which has been contributed is about 540,000 pounds. Of that
+amount we received--and it is a most gratifying fact--40,000 pounds
+from the colonies; we received from the rest of the United Kingdom
+100,000 pounds; and from the county of Lancaster itself, in round
+numbers, 400,000 pounds out of 540,000 pounds.
+
+Now, I hope that these figures, upon the estimate and authority of
+the Government poor-law commissioner, will be sufficient, at all
+events, to do away with the imputation that Lancashire, at this
+crisis, is not doing its duty. But if Lancashire has been doing its
+duty--if it is doing its duty--that is no reason why Lancashire
+should relax its efforts; and of that I trust the result of this
+day's proceedings will afford a sufficient testimony. We are not yet
+at the height of the distress. It is estimated that at the present
+moment there are three hundred and fifty-five thousand persons
+engaged in the different manufactories. Of these forty thousand only
+are in full work; one hundred and thirty-five thousand are at short
+work, and one hundred and eighty thousand are out of work
+altogether. In the course of the next six weeks this number is
+likely to be greatly increased; and the loss of wages is not less
+than 137,000 pounds a week. This, I say then, is a state of things
+that calls for the most active exertions of all classes of the
+community, who, I am happy to say, have responded to the call which
+has been made upon them most nobly, from the Queen down to the
+lowest individual in the community. At the commencement of the
+distress, the Queen, with her usual munificence, sent us a donation
+of 2000 pounds. The first act of His Royal Highness the Prince of
+Wales, upon attaining his majority, was to write from Rome, and to
+request that his name should be put down for 1000 pounds. And to go
+to the other end of the scale, I received two days ago, from Lord
+Shaftesbury, a donation of 1200 pounds from some thousands of
+working men, readers of a particular periodical which he mentioned,
+the British Workman. To that sum Lord Shaftesbury stated many
+thousands of persons had subscribed, and it embraced contributions
+even from the brigade of shoe-black boys.
+
+On the part of all classes there has been the greatest liberality
+displayed; and I should be unjust to the working men, I should be
+unjust to the poor in every district, if I did not say that in
+proportion to their means they have contributed more than their
+share. In no case hardly which has come to my knowledge has there
+been any grudging, and in many cases I know that poor persons have
+contributed more than common prudence would have dictated. These
+observations have run to a greater extent than I had intended; but I
+thought it desirable that the whole case, as far as possible, should
+be brought before you, and I have only now earnestly to request that
+you will this day do your part towards the furtherance of the good
+work. I have no apprehension, if the distress should not last over
+five or six months more, that the spontaneous efforts of individuals
+and public bodies, and contributions received in every part of the
+country, will fall short of that which is needed for enabling the
+population to tide over this deep distress; and I earnestly hope
+that, if it be necessary to apply to Parliament, as a last resource,
+the representatives of the country will not grudge their aid; yet I
+do fervently hope and believe that, with the assistance of the
+machinery of that bill passed in Parliament last session, (the Rate
+in Aid Act,) which will come into operation shortly after Christmas,
+but could not possibly be brought into operation sooner, I do
+fervently hope and believe that this great manufacturing district
+will be spared the further humiliation of coming before Parliament,
+which ought to be the last resource, as a claimant, a suppliant for
+the bounty of the nation at large. I don't apprehend that there will
+be a single dissentient voice raised against the resolution which I
+have now the honour to move."
+
+
+
+SONGS OF DISTRESS,
+CHIEFLY WRITTEN DURING THE COTTON FAMINE.
+
+
+
+STANZAS TO MY STARVING KIN IN THE NORTH.
+BY ELIZA COOK.
+
+
+
+Sad are the sounds that are breaking forth
+From the women and men of the brave old North!
+Sad are the sights for human eyes,
+In fireless homes, 'neath wintry skies;
+Where wrinkles gather on childhood's skin,
+And youth's "clemm'd" cheek is pallid and thin;
+Where the good, the honest--unclothed, unfed,
+Child, mother, and father, are craving for bread!
+But faint not, fear not--still have trust;
+Your voices are heard, and your claims are just.
+England to England's self is true,
+And "God and the People" will help you through.
+
+Brothers and sisters! full well ye have stood,
+While the gripe of gaunt Famine has curdled your blood!
+No murmur, no threat on your lips have place,
+Though ye look on the Hunger-fiend face to face;
+But haggard and worn ye silently bear,
+Dragging your death-chains with patience and prayer;
+With your hearts as loyal, your deeds as right,
+As when Plenty and Sleep blest your day and your night,
+Brothers and sisters! oh! do not believe
+It is Charity's GOLD ALONE ye receive.
+Ah, no! It is Sympathy, Feeling, and Hope,
+That pull out in the Life-boat to fling ye a rope.
+
+Fondly I've lauded your wealth-winning hands,
+Planting Commerce and Fame throughout measureless lands;
+And my patriot-love, and my patriot-song,
+To the children of Labour will ever belong.
+Women and men of this brave old soil!
+I weep that starvation should guerdon your toil;
+But I glory to see ye--proudly mute--
+Showing SOULS like the HERO, not FANGS like the brute.
+Oh! keep courage within; be the Britons ye are;
+HE, who driveth the storm hath His hand on the star!
+England to England's sons shall be true,
+And "God and the People" will carry ye through!
+
+
+
+THE SMOKELESS CHIMNEY
+BY A LANCASHIRE LADY {1} (E.J.B.)
+
+
+
+STRANGER! who to buy art willing,
+Seek not here for talent rare;
+Mine's no song of love or beauty,
+But a tale of want and care.
+
+Traveller on the Northern Railway!
+Look and learn, as on you speed;
+See the hundred smokeless chimneys,
+Learn their tale of cheerless need.
+
+Ah! perchance the landscape fairer
+Charms your taste, your artist-eye;
+Little do you guess how dearly
+Costs that now unclouded sky.
+
+"How much prettier is this county!"
+Says the careless passer-by;
+"Clouds of smoke we see no longer,
+What's the reason?--Tell me why.
+
+"Better far it were, most surely,
+Never more such clouds to see,
+Bringing taint o'er nature's beauty,
+With their foul obscurity."
+
+Thoughtless fair one! from yon chimney
+Floats the golden breath of life;
+Stop that current at your pleasure!
+Stop! and starve the child--the wife.
+
+Ah! to them each smokeless chimney
+Is a signal of despair;
+They see hunger, sickness, ruin,
+Written in that pure, bright air.
+
+"Mother! mother! see! 'twas truly
+Said last week the mill would stop;
+Mark yon chimney, nought is going,
+There's no smoke from 'out o'th top!'
+
+"Father! father! what's the reason
+That the chimneys smokeless stand?
+Is it true that all through strangers,
+We must starve in our own land?"
+
+Low upon her chair that mother
+Droops, and sighs with tearful eye;
+At the hearthstone lags the father,
+Musing o'er the days gone by.
+
+Days which saw him glad and hearty,
+Punctual at his work of love;
+When the week's end brought him plenty,
+And he thanked the Lord above.
+
+When his wages, earned so justly,
+Gave him clothing, home, and food;
+When his wife, with fond caresses,
+Blessed his heart, so kind and good.
+
+Neat and clean each Sunday saw them,
+In their place of prayer and praise,
+Little dreaming that the morrow
+Piteous cries for help would raise.
+
+Weeks roll on, and still yon chimney
+Gives of better times no sign;
+Men by thousands cry for labour,
+Daily cry, and daily pine.
+
+Now the things, so long and dearly
+Prized before, are pledged away;
+Clock and Bible, marriage-presents,
+Both must go--how sad to say!
+
+Charley trots to school no longer,
+Nelly grows more pale each day;
+Nay, the baby's shoes, so tiny,
+Must be sold, for bread to pay.
+
+They who loathe to be dependent
+Now for alms are forced to ask
+Hard is mill-work, but, believe me,
+Begging is the bitterest task.
+
+Soon will come the doom most dreaded,
+With a horror that appals;
+Lo! before their downcast faces
+Grimly stare the workhouse walls.
+
+Stranger, if these sorrows touch you,
+Widely bid your bounty flow;
+And assist my poor endeavours
+To relieve this load of woe.
+
+Let no more the smokeless chimneys
+Draw from you one word of praise;
+Think, oh, think upon the thousands
+Who are moaning out their days.
+
+Rather pray that peace, soon bringing
+Work and plenty in her train,
+We may see these smokeless chimneys
+Blackening all the land again.
+
+1862.
+
+
+
+THE MILL-HAND'S PETITION.
+
+
+
+The following verses are copied from "Lancashire Lyrics," edited by
+John Harland, Esq., F.S.A. They are extracted from a song "by some
+'W.C.,' printed as a street broadside, at Ashton-under-Lyne, and
+sung in most towns of South Lancashire."
+
+We have come to ask for assistance;
+At home we've been starving too long;
+An' our children are wanting subsistence;
+Kindly aid us to help them along.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+For humanity is calling;
+Don't let the call be in vain;
+But help us; we're needy and falling;
+And God will return it again.
+
+War's clamour and civil commotion
+Has stagnation brought in its train;
+And stoppage bring with it starvation,
+So help us some bread to obtain.
+
+ For humanity is calling.
+The American war is still lasting;
+Like a terrible nightmare it leans
+On the breast of a country, now fasting
+For cotton, for work, and for means.
+
+ And humanity is calling.
+
+
+
+CHEER UP A BIT LONGER. {2}
+BY SAMUEL LAYCOCK.
+
+
+
+Cheer up a bit longer, mi brothers i' want,
+There's breeter days for us i' store;
+There'll be plenty o' tommy an' wark for us o'
+When this 'Merica bother gets o'er.
+Yo'n struggled reet nobly, an' battled reet hard,
+While things han bin lookin' so feaw;
+Yo'n borne wi' yo're troubles and trials so long,
+It's no use o' givin' up neaw.
+
+Feight on, as yo' han done, an' victory's sure,
+For th' battle seems very nee won,
+Be firm i' yo're sufferin', an' dunno give way;
+They're nowt nobbut ceawards'at run.
+Yo' know heaw they'n praised us for stondin' so firm,
+An' shall we neaw stagger an' fo?
+Nowt o'th soart;--iv we nobbut brace up an' be hard,
+We can stond a bit longer, aw know.
+
+It's hard to keep clemmin' an' starvin' so long;
+An' one's hurt to see th' little things fret,
+Becose there's no buttercakes for 'em to eat;
+But we'n allus kept pooin' thro' yet.
+As bad as toimes are, an' as feaw as things look,
+We're certain they met ha' bin worse;
+We'n had tommy to eat, an' clooas to put on;
+They'n only bin roughish, aw know.
+
+Aw've begged on yo' to keep up yo're courage afore,
+An' neaw let me ax yo' once moor;
+Let's noan get disheartened, there's hope for us yet,
+We needn't dispair tho' we're poor.
+We cannot expect it'll allus be foine;
+It's dark for a while, an' then clear;
+We'n mirth mixed wi' sadness, an' pleasure wi' pain,
+An' shall have as long as we're here.
+
+This world's full o' changes for better an' wur,
+An' this is one change among th' ruck;
+We'n a toime o' prosperity,--toime o' success,
+An' then we'n a reawnd o' bad luck.
+We're baskin' i' sunshine, at one toime o'th day,
+At other toimes ceawerin' i'th dark;
+We're sometoimes as hearty an' busy as owt,
+At other toimes ill, an' beawt wark.
+
+Good bless yo'! mi brothers, we're nobbut on th' tramp,
+We never stay long at one spot;
+An' while we keep knockin' abeawt i' this world,
+Disappointments will fall to eawer lot:
+So th' best thing we can do, iv we meon to get thro',
+Is to wrastle wi' cares as they come;
+We shall feel rayther tired,--but let's never heed that,--
+We can rest us weel when we get whoam.
+
+Cheer up, then, aw say, an' keep hopin' for th' best,
+An' things 'll soon awter, yo'll see;
+There'll be oceans o' butties for Tommy an' Fred,
+An' th' little un perched on yo're knee.
+Bide on a bit longer, tak' heart once ogen,
+An' do give o'er lookin' so feaw;
+As we'n battled, an' struggled, an' suffered so long,
+It's no use o' givin' up neaw.
+
+
+
+FRETTIN'.
+
+
+
+(From "Phases of Distress--Lancashire Rhymes.")
+
+BY JOSEPH RAMSBOTTOM.
+
+Fro' heawrs to days--a dhreary length--
+Fro' days to weeks one idle stons,
+An' slowly sinks fro' pride an' strength
+To weeny heart an' wakely honds;
+An' still one hopes, an' ever tries
+To think 'at better days mun come;
+Bo' th' sun may set, an' th' sun may rise,--
+No sthreak o' leet one finds a-whoam.
+
+Aw want to see thoose days again,
+When folk can win whate'er they need;
+O God! to think 'at wortchin' men
+Should be poor things to pet an' feed!
+There's some to th' Bastile han to goo,
+To live o'th rates they'n help'd to pay;
+An' some get "dow" {3} to help 'em through;
+An' some are taen or sent away.
+
+What is there here, 'at one should live,
+Or wish to live, weigh'd deawn wi' grief,
+Through weary weeks an' months, 'at give
+Not one short heawr o' sweet relief?
+A sudden plunge, a little blow,
+Would end at once mi' care an' pain!
+An' why noa do't?--for weel aw know
+Aw's lose bo' ills, if nowt aw gain.
+
+An' why noa do't? It ill 'ud tell
+O' thoose wur laft beheend, aw fear;
+It's wring, at fust, to kill mysel',
+It's wring to lyev mi childer here.
+One's like to tak' some thowt for them--
+Some sort o' comfort one should give;
+So one mun bide, an' starve, an' clem,
+An' pine, an' mope, an' fret, an' live.
+
+
+
+TH' SHURAT WEAVER'S SONG. {4}
+
+
+
+BY SAMUEL LAYCOCK.
+
+TUNE--"Rory O'More."
+
+Confound it! aw ne'er wur so woven afore;
+My back's welly brocken, mi fingers are sore;
+Aw've been starin' an' rootin' amung this Shurat,
+Till aw'm very near getten as bloint as a bat.
+
+Aw wish aw wur fur enough off, eawt o'th road,
+For o' weavin' this rubbitch aw'm getten reet sto'd;
+Aw've nowt i' this world to lie deawn on but straw,
+For aw've nobbut eight shillin' this fortnit to draw.
+
+Neaw, aw haven't mi family under mi hat;
+Aw've a woife and six childer to keep eawt o' that;
+So aw'm rayther amung it just neaw, yo may see--
+Iv ever a fellow wur puzzle't, it's me!
+Iv aw turn eawt to steal, folk'll co' me a thief;
+An' aw conno' put th' cheek on to ax for relief;
+As aw said i' eawr heawse t'other neet to mi wife,
+Aw never did nowt o' this mak' i' my life.
+
+O dear! iv yon Yankees could nobbut just see,
+Heaw they're clemmin' an' starvin' poor weavers loike me,
+Aw think they'd soon sattle their bother, an' strive
+To send us some cotton to keep us alive.
+
+There's theawsan's o' folk, just i'th best o' their days,
+Wi' traces o' want plainly sin i' their faze;
+An' a futur afore 'em as dreary an' dark;
+For, when th' cotton gets done, we's be o' eawt o' wark.
+
+We'n bin patient an' quiet as lung as we con;
+Th' bits o' things we had by us are welly o' gone;
+Mi clogs an' mi shoon are both gettin' worn eawt,
+An' my halliday clooas are o' gone "up th' speawt!"
+
+Mony a time i' my days aw've sin things lookin' feaw,
+But never as awkard as what they are neaw;
+Iv there isn't some help for us factory folk soon,
+Aw'm sure 'at we's o' be knock'd reet eawt o' tune.
+
+
+
+GOD HELP THE POOR. {5}
+
+
+
+BY SAMUEL BAMFORD.
+
+God help the poor, who in this wintry morn,
+Come forth of alleys dim and courts obscure;
+God help yon poor, pale girl, who droops forlorn,
+And meekly her affliction doth endure!
+
+God help the outcast lamb! she trembling stands,
+All wan her lips, and frozen red her hands;
+Her mournful eyes are modestly down cast,
+Her night-black hair streams on the fitful blast;
+Her bosom, passing fair, is half reveal'd,
+And oh! so cold the snow lies there congeal'd;
+Her feet benumb'd, her shoes all rent and worn;--
+God help thee, outcast lamb, who stand'st forlorn!
+ God help the poor!
+
+God help the poor! an infant's feeble wail
+Comes from yon narrow gate-way! and behold
+A female crouching there, so deathly pale,
+Huddling her child, to screen it from the cold!--
+Her vesture scant, her bonnet crush'd and torn;
+A thin shawl doth her baby dear enfold.
+And there she bides the ruthless gale of morn,
+Which almost to her heart hath sent its cold!
+And now she sudden darts a ravening look,
+As one with new hot bread comes past the nook;
+And, as the tempting load is onward borne,
+She weeps. God help thee, hapless one forlorn!
+ God help the poor!
+
+God help the poor! Behold yon famish'd lad
+No shoes, no hose, his wounded feet protect;
+With limping gait, and looks so dreamy-sad,
+He wanders onward, stopping to inspect
+Each window, stored with articles of food;
+He yearns but to enjoy one cheering meal.
+Oh! to his hungry palate, viands rude
+Would yield a zest the famish'd only feel!
+He now devours a crust of mouldy bread--
+With teeth and hands the precious boon is torn,
+Unmindful of the storm which round his head
+Impetuous sweeps. God help thee, child forlorn
+ God help the poor!
+God help the poor! Another have I found
+A bow'd and venerable man is he;
+His slouched hat with faded crape is bound,
+His coat is gray, and threadbare, too, I see;
+"The rude winds" seem to "mock his hoary hair;"
+His shirtless bosom to the blast is bare.
+Anon he turns, and casts a wistful eye,
+And with scant napkin wipes the blinding spray;
+And looks again, as if he fain would spy
+Friends he hath feasted in his better day
+Ah! some are dead, and some have long forborne
+To know the poor; and he is left forlorn!
+ God help the poor!
+
+God help the poor who in lone valleys dwell,
+Or by far hills, where whin and heather grow
+Theirs is a story sad indeed to tell!
+Yet little cares the world, nor seeks to know
+The toil and want poor weavers undergo.
+The irksome loom must have them up at morn;
+They work till worn-out nature will have sleep;
+They taste, but are not fed. Cold snow drifts deep
+Around the fireless cot, and blocks the door;
+The night-storm howls a dirge o'er moss and moor!
+And shall they perish thus, oppress'd and lorn?
+Shall toil and famine hopeless still be borne!--
+No! GOD will yet arise, and HELP THE POOR!
+
+
+
+TICKLE TIMES.
+
+
+
+BY EDWIN WAUGH.
+
+Neaw times are so tickle, no wonder
+One's heart should be deawn i' his shoon,
+But, dang it, we munnot knock under
+To th' freawn o' misfortin to soon;
+Though Robin looks fearfully gloomy,
+An' Jamie keeps starin' at th' greawnd,
+An' thinkin' o'th table 'at's empty,
+An' th' little things yammerin' reawnd.
+
+Iv a mon be both honest an' willin',
+An' never a stroke to be had,
+An' clemmin' for want ov a shillin',--
+It's likely to make him feel sad;
+It troubles his heart to keep seein'
+His little brids feedin' o'th air;
+An' it feels very hard to be deein',
+An' never a mortal to care.
+
+But life's sich a quare bit o' travel,--
+A warlock wi' sun an' wi' shade,--
+An' then, on a bowster o' gravel,
+They lay'n us i' bed wi' a spade;
+It's no use o' peawtin' an' fratchin';
+As th' whirligig's twirlin' areawn'd,
+Have at it again; an' keep scratehin',
+As lung as your yed's upo' greawnd.
+
+Iv one could but feel i'th inside on't,
+There's trouble i' every heart;
+An' thoose that'n th' biggest o'th pride on't,
+Oft leeten o'th keenest o'th smart.
+Whatever may chance to come to us,
+Let's patiently hondle er share,--
+For there's mony a fine suit o' clooas
+That covers a murderin' care.
+
+There's danger i' every station,
+I'th palace, as weel as i'th cot;
+There's hanker i' every condition,
+An' canker i' every lot;
+There's folk that are weary o' livin',
+That never fear't hunger nor cowd;
+An' there's mony a miserly crayter
+'At's deed ov a surfeit o' gowd.
+
+One feels, neaw 'at times are so nippin',
+A mon's at a troublesome schoo',
+That slaves like a horse for a livin',
+An, flings it away like a foo;
+But, as pleasur's sometimes a misfortin,
+An' trouble sometimes a good thing,--
+Though we liv'n o'th floor, same as layrocks,
+We'n go up, like layrocks, to sing.
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+JOHN HEYWOOD, PRINTER, MANCHESTER.
+
+
+
+WAUGH'S POEMS AND LANCASHIRE SONGS. 5s.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+POEMS.
+
+The Moorland Flower--To the Rose-Tree on my Window Sill--Keen Blows
+the North Wind--Now Summer's Sunlight Glowing--The Moorland Witch--
+The Church Clock--God Bless Thee, Old England--All on a Rosy Morn of
+June--Glad Welcome to Morn's Dewy Hours--Alas, how Hard it is to
+Smile--Ye Gallant Men of England--Here's to my Native Land--What
+Makes your Leaves Fall Down--Oh, had she been a Lowly Maid--The Old
+Bard's Welcome Home--Oh, Come Across the Fields--Oh, Weave a Garland
+for my Brow--The Wanderer's Hymn--Alone upon the Flowery Plain--
+Life's Twilight--Time is Flying--The Moorlands--The Captain's
+Friends--The World--To a Married Lady--Cultivate your Men--Old Man's
+Song--Bide on--Christmas Song--Love and Gold--When Drowsy Daylight--
+Mary--To the Spring Wind--Nightfall--To a Young Lady--Poor
+Travellers all--The Dying Rose--Lines--The Man of the Time--
+Christmas Morning.
+
+SONGS IN THE DIALECT.
+
+Come Whoam to thi Childer an' Me--What ails Thee, my Son Robin--God
+Bless these Poor Folk--Come, Mary, Link thi Arm i Mine--Chirrup --
+The Dule's i' this Bonnet o' Mine--Tickle Times--Jamie's Frolic--Owd
+Pinder--Come, Jamie, let's Undo thi Shoon--The Goblin Parson--While
+Takin' a Wift o' my Pipe--God Bless thi Silver Yure--Margit's
+Coming.
+
+WAUGH'S LANCASHIRE SONGS.
+
+Cloth, neat, 1s.
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+Come Whoam to thi Childer an' Me--What ails Thee, my Son Robin--God
+Bless these Poor Folk--Come, Mary, Link thi Arm i' Mine--The Dule's
+i' this Bonnet o' Mine--Come, Jamie, let's Undo thi Shoon--Aw've
+Worn my Bits o' Shoon Away--Chirrup--Bonny Nan--Tum Rindle--Tickle
+Times--Jamie's Frolic--Owd Pinder--The Goblin Parson--While Takin' a
+Wift o' my Pipe--Yesterneet--God Bless thi Silver Yure--Margit's
+Coming--Eawr Folk--Th' Sweetheart Gate--Gentle Jone--Neet Fo'--A
+Lift on th' Way.
+
+WAUGH'S LANCASHIRE SONGS.
+
+In sheets, 1d. each.
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+Come Whoam to thi Childer an' Me--What ails Thee, my Son Robin--God
+Bless these Poor Folk--Come, Mary, Link thi Arm i' Mine--The Dule's
+i' this Bonnet o' Mine--Come, Jamie, let's Undo Thi Shoon--While
+Takin' a Wift o' my Pipe--God Bless thi Silver Yure--Aw've Worn my
+Bits o' Shoon Away --Yesterneet--Owd Enoch--Chirrup --Tickle Times--
+Jamie's Frolic--Owd Pinder--Th' Goblin Parson--Margit's Coming--Eawr
+Folk--Th' Sweetheart Gate--Gentle Jone--Neet Fo'--Bonnie Nan--A Lift
+on th' Way--Tum Rindle--Buckle to.
+
+WAUGH'S. The Birtle Carter's Tale about Owd Bodle. 3d.
+WAUGH'S. The Goblin's Grave. 3d.
+WAUGH'S. Chapel Island: An Adventure on the Ulverstone Sands. 1d.
+WAUGH'S. Norbreck: A Sketch on the Lancashire Coast. 1d.
+WAUGH'S. Birth-Place of Tim Bobbin. 6d.
+WAUGH'S. Rambles in the Lake Country and its Borders. Cloth, neat.
+2s. 6d.
+WAUGH'S. Sketches of Lancashire Life and Localities. 1s.
+WAUGH'S. Fourteen Days in Scotland. 1s.
+WAUGH'S. Wandering Minstrels; or, Wails of the Workless Poor. 1d.
+WAUGH'S. The Barrel Organ. With Illustrations. 3d.
+WAUGH'S. Tattlin Matty. 3d.
+WAUGH'S. The Dead Man's Dinner. 3d.
+WAUGH'S. Over Sands to the Lakes. 6d.
+WAUGH'S. Sea-Side Lakes and Mountains of Cumberland. 6d.
+WAUGH'S. Home-Life of the Lancashire Factory Folk during the Cotton
+Famine. 3s. 6d.
+WAUGH'S. Tufts of Heather from the Northern Moors. 5s.
+
+
+
+Footnotes:
+
+{1} These stanzas are extracted, by permission, from the second
+volume of "Lancashire Lyrics," edited by John Harland, Esq., F.S.A.
+"They were written by a lady in aid of the Relief Fund. They were
+printed on a card, and sold, principally at the railway stations.
+Their sale there, and elsewhere, is known to have realised the sum
+of 160 pounds. Their authoress is the wife of Mr Serjeant Bellasis,
+and the only daughter of the late William Garnett, Esq. of Quernmore
+Park and Bleasdale, Lancashire."--Notes in "Lancashire Lyrics."
+
+{2} From "Lancashire Lyrics," edited by John Harland, Esq., F.S.A.
+
+{3} Dole; relief from charity.
+
+{4} "During what has been well named 'The Cotton Famine,' amongst
+the imports of cotton from India, perhaps the worst was that
+denominated 'Surat,' from the city of that name in the province of
+Guzerat, a great cotton district. Short in staple, and often rotten,
+bad in quality, and dirty in condition, (the result too often of
+dishonest packers,) it was found to be exceedingly difficult to work
+up; and from its various defects, it involved considerable
+deductions, or 'batings,' for bad work, from the spinners' and
+weavers' wages. This naturally led to a general dislike of the Surat
+cotton, and to the application of the word 'Surat' to designate any
+inferior article. One action was tried at the assizes, the offence
+being the applying to the beverage of a particular brewer the term
+of 'Surat beer.' Besides the song given above, several others were
+written on the subject. One called 'Surat Warps,' and said to be the
+production of a Rossendale rhymester, (T. N., of Bacup,) appeared in
+Notes and Queries of June 3, 1865, (third series, vol. vii., p.
+432,) and is there stated to be a great favourite amongst the old
+'Deyghn Layrocks,' (Anglice, the 'Larks of Dean,' in the forest of
+Rossendale,) 'who sing it to one of the easy-going psalm-tunes with
+much gusto.' One verse runs thus:-
+
+" 'I look at th' yealds, and there they stick;
+I ne'er seen the like sin' I wur wick!
+What pity could befall a heart,
+To think about these hard-sized warps!'
+
+Another song, called 'The Surat Weyver,' was written by William
+Billington of Blackburn. It is in the form of a lament by a body of
+Lancashire weavers, who declare that they had
+
+" 'Borne what mortal man could bear,
+Affoore they'd weave Surat.'
+
+But they had been compelled to weave it, though
+
+" 'Stransportashun's not as ill
+As weyvin rotten Su'.'
+
+The song concludes with the emphatic execration,
+" 'To hell wi' o' Surat!'"
+
+--Note in "Lancashire Lyrics," vol. ii., edited by John Harland,
+Esq., F.S.A.
+
+{5} These beautiful lines, by the veteran Samuel Bamford, of
+Harperhey, near Manchester, author of "Passages in the Life of a
+Radical," &c., are copied from the new and complete edition of his
+poems, entitled "Homely Rhymes, Poems, and Reminiscences," published
+by Alexander Ireland & Co., Examiner and Times Office, Pall Mall,
+Manchester. Price 3s. 6d., with a portrait of the author.
+
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOME-LIFE OF THE LANCASHIRE FACTORY
+FOLK DURING THE COTTON FAMINE***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 10126.txt or 10126.zip *******
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