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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
 
 NATURE'S NOBILITY.
 
 NATURE'S NOBILITY, 
 
 i Sobel 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 By JOHN NEWALL. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON. 
 CHARING CROSS PUBLISHING COMPANY, LIMITED, 
 
 5, FRIAR STREET, BROADWAY, B.C 
 MDCCCLXXIX.
 
 
 DEDICATE D 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 AN 
 EVEK DEAK SISTER, 
 
 WHO BRIGHTENED THE PATH SHE TROD, AND DIFFUSED 
 
 HAPPINESS AROUND HER. 
 
 VILLA MARIA, 
 
 EALING, JUNE 1st, lsly
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAP 
 
 
 
 i'AGK 
 
 I. 
 
 The 18th and 19th Centuries han 
 
 D IN HAND . 1 
 
 II. 
 
 A NOBLE MERCHANT. 
 
 . 
 
 . 23 
 
 III. 
 
 A Mob . 
 
 . 
 
 . 42 
 
 IV. 
 
 Distraction . 
 
 • 
 
 . 66 
 
 V. 
 
 A Aiding Place . 
 
 . 
 
 . 82 
 
 VI. 
 
 A Detective. , 
 
 * # 
 
 . 99 
 
 VII. 
 
 A Quack Doctor . 
 
 . 
 
 . 117 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Childless Bliss 
 
 
 . 132 
 
 IX. 
 
 A Leap for Life. 
 
 
 . 145 
 
 X. 
 
 A Supper Party . 
 
 • 
 
 . 16-5 
 
 XI. 
 
 A Bold Dragoon 
 
 • 
 
 . 189 
 
 XII. 
 
 The "Nancy" Barge 
 
 
 . 208 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Saint Peter's in the 
 
 Rocks. 
 
 . 230 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A Woman of Courage 
 
 . 
 
 . 254
 
 NATURE'S NOBILITY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 the 18th and 19th centuries 
 hand in hand. 
 
 At mid-day the 16th of August, 1819, 
 there were seen descending the snow 
 white steps of a house in the Cathedral 
 Close of Lumechester in Lancashire, two 
 figures, so dissimilar in age and appearance, 
 and withal so striking, that the passers- 
 by instinctively stopped to gaze at them — 
 the 18th and 19th centuries stood hand 
 in hand. One was a boy, five years old, 
 with an expressive face of the patrician 
 type, and long hair falling in thick brown 
 curls on his back. His lace frill, braided 
 VOL. i. B
 
 NATUEES NOBILITY. 
 
 velvet jacket and vest, and white worked 
 drawers, all of expensive material and 
 well made, showed that he was the pet of 
 some fond mother, whilst his clear com- 
 plexion and springy step indicated good 
 health. 
 
 He was led by the hand by a tall 
 portly old gentleman, np to whose face 
 he looked with a beaming happy smile, 
 full of confidence in his protector and 
 delight at the prospect of a walk with 
 him on that bright summer morning. 
 
 The elder one was a good specimen of 
 the " fine old English gentleman " of the 
 last century. He was eighty-five, and, 
 notwithstanding his great age, was upright 
 and full of health and vigour. He wore 
 a snuff-coloured cloth suit, with silver 
 buttons, much in the style of the court 
 dress of the present day ; white silk 
 stockings, highly polished shoes, reaching 
 to the ankle and fastened by large silver
 
 the 18th and 19th centukies. 3 
 
 buckles. The dress became his large 
 well-made frame, shewing his handsome 
 legs to advantage. 
 
 His hat was sobered down from the 
 cocked hat of the last century to one 
 somewhat of the shape of the clerical 
 hat of our time. His hair, closely cut, 
 was powdered ; his face, expressive of 
 honest good nature and perfect accord be- 
 tween the world and himself, was full, 
 yet indicative of good birth, and its 
 rudely complexion well shown off by a 
 rich lace cravat, fastened at the throat 
 by a massive gold ring, containing the 
 head of George III. in Minton ware, 
 struck off on the accession to the throne 
 of that good King at the early age of 
 twenty-two ; a monarch destined to pass 
 through a more eventful and anxious 
 period than any other occupant of the 
 throne of England before or since, and 
 whose high qualifications for the sove-
 
 natuee's nobility. 
 
 reignty are but little appreciated by the 
 present generation. Amongst the convul- 
 sions, both political and social, during his 
 reign, he stood erect and calm, never 
 flinching from duty. The wonder is that 
 his intellect withstood so long the intense 
 strain upon it. For this good King the 
 wearer of his portrait had the most in- 
 tense admiration, which he very audibly 
 expressed at his village church every Sun- 
 day on the reading of the prayer for the 
 Royal Family, and not only did he con- 
 sider it his own duty so to do, but he 
 carefully watched those in the pews near 
 him, to see if they were actuated by the 
 same loyal feelings as himself, and his 
 good-natured face had been seen on more 
 than one occasion to contract itself into a 
 stern look of rebuke when he fancied that 
 he saw a half sneer on the countenance 
 of a Radical-looking member of the con- 
 gregation, and thereupon he would repeat
 
 the 18th and 19th centuries. 5 
 
 the " Amen " more loudly and emphati- 
 cally than usual, looking the criminal full 
 in the face. Our friend's life had been 
 an easy one. An only son he entered 
 upon his patrimony early, and, having 
 made up his mind to a bachelor's life, he 
 found the income, though not large, fully 
 sufficient for his wants and to maintain his 
 dignity of descent, for he came from an 
 ancestry who for five hundred years had 
 been landowners in the county of Lancas- 
 ter, and carried their lineage by unusually 
 clear proofs to the days of the Conquerer, 
 one of whose stalwart knights had married 
 the fair heiress from whom they traced 
 their pedigree. 
 
 This pride of ancestry had always pre- 
 vented Mr. Henry de Noel, for that was 
 his name (but hereafter we shall call him 
 Mr. Henry), from incurring any expendi- 
 ture beyond his means. 
 
 Towards his later years he had, how-
 
 NATUEES NOBILITY. 
 
 ever, brought himself to purchase from a 
 coach-builder of Lumechester, a large yel- 
 low family carriage, built for a country 
 squire who had not the means to pay for 
 it, and the builder, under the circumstances, 
 and for ready cash, allowed him to become 
 the purchaser at a greatly reduced figure. 
 A pair of horses to match were, however, 
 beyond his means ; so when he determined 
 to bring out his carriage he resorted to 
 the use of post horses, then the recog- 
 nised mode of locomotion for gentility, 
 but now scarcely to be obtained if care- 
 fully searched for throughout the length 
 and breadth of the land. The post-boy 
 tribe he disliked in their natural state, he 
 therefore had a livery made and carefully 
 laid by, in which, on all needful occasions, 
 he installed the post boy who undertook 
 the temporary duties of coachman. The 
 estate from which Mr. Henry derived his 
 income was at Whicham in Cheshire,
 
 the 18th and 19th centukies. 7 
 
 some eight miles from Lumechester. He 
 held it on lease, subject to a small rent, 
 and he was the survivor of the three lives 
 named in the last lease, and it was high 
 time, considering his great age, that the 
 lease should be renewed, and here was the 
 pinch. Though he lived within his in- 
 come yet he had not saved, and the great 
 landowner, a Peer, required a larger sum 
 as a fine for renewal than Mr. Henry 
 could, without restricting his expenditure, 
 command, and although he was anxious 
 that the estate, which had been many 
 generations in the family, should continue 
 in it, he could not well see his way to 
 paying the large sum demanded, and the 
 knowledge of this was the "skeleton" 
 which it is said exists in every man's 
 house, and at times the ruddy cheek paled 
 when he sat alone, and felt that the little 
 fellow whom he led by the hand, and who 
 was his godson, would not become his
 
 8 natuee's nobility. 
 
 successor to the estate. Yet he was too 
 proud to avow his pecuniary position to 
 anyone, lest it might be bruited abroad 
 that he was not so rich as he was said 
 to be. 
 
 On the estate there was a fine old man- 
 sion, which had formerly been occupied 
 as the residence of the family which, prior 
 to the purchase by the Peer, had owned 
 the estate; and attached to it had formerly 
 been some three thousand acres of land, 
 of which about three hundred acres only 
 remained. 
 
 It was a large and somewhat rambling 
 structure, and was almost a mass of solid 
 British oak. The farmer, whose father 
 and grandfather before him had rented 
 the estate, declared it to be 1,000 years 
 old ; but that, no doubt, was an exaggera- 
 tion. The chief entrance fronted the 
 high road to Lumechester, and over the 
 door-way was a carved shield, or rather
 
 the 18th and 19th centukies. 9 
 
 what remained of one, with divers decayed 
 and crumbling heraldic signs, quite unin- 
 telligible, and maintaining an uncertain 
 existence thereon. It was wide, and must 
 have been, in former days, very hand- 
 some, but the farmer used it for his own 
 purposes, and a side entrance had been 
 formed by a somewhat tasteful passage of 
 tesselated woodwork (on and over which 
 the honeysuckle and ivy had intertwined 
 their tendrils), leading to a door which 
 opened into a suite of rooms converted by 
 Mr. Henry into very comfortable bachelor's 
 quarters. He had separated them from 
 the portion of the house occupied by the 
 farmer, with the exception of one door way, 
 which he kept locked, and only opened 
 it to enable the farmer's wife, who had 
 been a cook in the family, to superintend his 
 simple culinary arrangements. His wants 
 were chiefly attended to by an old man 
 servant (also a bachelor), who had been
 
 10 nature's nobility. 
 
 in the family many years, and was almost 
 part of himself, and whose great ambi- 
 tion was to copy in his own person the 
 scrupulous neatness of his master. The 
 dining-room and library, on the ground 
 floor, were large lofty rooms, with recessed 
 windows, divided by mullions, and diamond 
 shaped glass set in lead. The fire places 
 had ingle nooks capacious enough to seat 
 half-a-dozen on a cold winter's night. 
 Outside the windows the clematis and 
 other creeping plants struggled for pre- 
 dominance, and as there was no fair female 
 hand to regulate and check their luxuriance, 
 they to some extent interrupted the light 
 of heaven from shining into the rooms. 
 Solid beams of oak supported the ceilings; 
 centuries had somewhat twisted and gnarled 
 their original proportions, but they looked 
 in keeping with everything else. The 
 massive oak cornices and panellings had 
 been painted over, not very artistically, in
 
 the 18th and 19th centuries. 11 
 
 oak colour, which, nevertheless, could not 
 quite hide their original beauty. The oak 
 flooring, of which a large margin was left 
 outside a rich but somewhat faded carpet, 
 was polished like a mirror. Old fashioned 
 oak chairs and tables stood in the room, 
 and on the latter, Joseph, the servant, was 
 wont to arrange the simple flowers, which 
 he reared in a small garden, reserved by 
 his master from the rest of the tenant's 
 holding, and where he contrived, owing to 
 a southerly aspect, to rear rose trees which 
 were the envy of the neighbourhood. 
 
 The old bachelor had not forgotten the 
 sports of his earlier days. His gun, well 
 cleaned by Joseph, rested on supports over 
 the library mantel-piece ; the portrait of a 
 favourite hunter graced one end of the 
 room, and that of a clever pointer the 
 other end. Opposite the mantel-piece was 
 the portrait of a young lady of exceeding 
 beauty, who must have been, when the
 
 12 natuee's nobility. 
 
 two were young, of nearly the same age as 
 himself, and a careful scrutiny of the por- 
 trait led one to trace a family likeness to 
 Mr. Henry; but any question as to who she 
 was so invariably brought tears into the 
 good old man's eyes that his friends had 
 long ceased to refer to the picture, but 
 contented themselves with the supposition 
 that it was the portrait of one he clearly 
 loved, and so it was; it was the portrait 
 of his sister. She had been the only 
 companion of his childhood, and died in 
 the bloom of youth, leaving her memory 
 for ever engraved upon his heart as the 
 sweetest and best woman that ever lived. 
 He (and is it not a happiness to be able 
 to do so?) could only imagine her, as her 
 portrait faithfully represented her, a beau- 
 tiful being, free from all the faults which, 
 had she lived, she might have acquired, 
 and as the most charming girls too 
 often do acquire as they become acquain-
 
 the 18th and 19th centukies. 13 
 
 ted with the ways of the world and im- 
 bibe its follies and deceit. With so 
 pure and ethereal an atmosphere did he 
 surround her, that in his dreams he saw 
 her hovering with angel's wings and mur- 
 muring blessings upon his head. He had 
 aided a naturally strong constitution by 
 a regular life, so that he could boast that 
 he had never had a day's illness or taken 
 a dose of physic in his life. His alcoholic 
 tendencies were limited to ale, brewed by 
 Joseph on the premises, and to a remark- 
 able malt wine made by the same cunning' 
 hand, and which, after being kept two 
 or three years, strongly resembled a very 
 old Madeira seasoned by a voyage round 
 the Cape, and for which, on the rare 
 occasions that he invited his friends to 
 his simple table, it was often taken. 
 A massive oak staircase led from the 
 ground floor to two spacious bedrooms 
 immediately over the rooms below. One
 
 14 nature's nobility. 
 
 room was occupied by himself, the other 
 by Joseph. 
 
 The country around Whicham was ex- 
 ceedingly beautiful; soft rural scenery. 
 The village lay very near the boundary 
 between Lancashire and Cheshire. The 
 striking difference between the two counties 
 commenced at the very boundary, and was 
 almost as marked as the difference between 
 the two countries at the boundary between 
 France and Spain. The trees on the Che- 
 shire side seemed larger, the foliage greener, 
 the population healthier and cleaner, and 
 the well-dressed traveller could safely reckon 
 upon the respectful touch of the hat and 
 the humble "Good morning, sir." 
 
 No sooner was the boundary passed 
 than the large enclosures, clipped hedges, 
 good roads, smiling homesteads, and lowing 
 cattle proclaimed the agricultural instead 
 of the manufacturing element. 
 
 The feudal system existed in its modern-
 
 the 18th and 19th centukies. 15 
 
 ised spirit in the county of Chester. There, 
 implicit faith in the squire had not been 
 shaken by demagogues, or assailed by the 
 influence of the lower class of dissenting 
 preachers. The son succeeded the father 
 in the farm, as if by right of descent on 
 those ancestral estates. No intricate cov- 
 enants in leases became the subject of 
 angry discussion or expensive litigation, 
 but there was the utmost confidence be- 
 tween landlord and tenant. If a tenant, 
 from a succession of bad crops or loss of 
 cattle by disease, felt himself unable to pay - 
 his rent, instead of attempting to clear off 
 everything he could, at whatever sacrifice, 
 and decamping to America or Australia, he 
 would first address himself to the land 
 steward; failing relief from that important 
 personage, he would have recourse to a 
 personal appeal to the landlord himself. 
 Is it not a well accredited story that a 
 great Cheshire marquis, noted for his love
 
 16 nature's nobility. 
 
 of money, and at the same time for his 
 well-placed generosity, rode np to a tenant's 
 farm-house and addressed him thus : " T 
 hear from my steward that you cannot 
 pay your rent, that you have no money to 
 keep up the farm properly ; suppose now 
 that I take the farm and you be my bailiff." 
 The tenant joyfully acquiesced. The mar- 
 quis found the capital, the bailiff honestly 
 did his work, and at the end of three or 
 four years the farm was handed over in a 
 vastly improved and paying condition to 
 the grateful tenant, with only a small addi- 
 tion to the rent for the outlay upon it. 
 And did not the Earl of Whicham, under 
 whom Mr. Henry held his estate, interest 
 himself in the welfare of his numerous 
 tenantry, treating them with a paternal 
 kindness and a judicious liberality. And 
 did not that great commoner reside near 
 Whicham, whose father and grandfather 
 had been offered a peerage and had
 
 the 18th and 19th centueies. IT 
 
 refused it, and considered it a higher 
 honour to be plain Mr., and always repre- 
 sent the county in Parliament, than to be 
 in the House of Peers ; and did he not 
 look upon his tenants as part of his family, 
 and did they not return his kindness in 
 quite a filial spirit, and treat a poacher 
 from Lumechester with a primitive severity 
 which kept those gentry at a respectful 
 distance ; for did not the stocks lie close 
 to the village church, and did not the 
 stout Cheshire yeomen disregard the moans 
 and groans of the beaten and bruised 
 poacher as he lay the long night through 
 reflecting upon the disappointment of his 
 ambitious projects. The nearest parallel 
 case that we know of is that of the De 
 Coucys, of the Chateau de Coucy, near 
 Soissons. Though they intermarried with 
 crowned heads, commanded armies, and 
 within their own territories had the power 
 of life and death, they chose to retain the 
 vol. i. c
 
 18 natuee's nobility. 
 
 title of the "Sire de Coucy," and their 
 pride in holding it is expressed in the 
 following lines : — 
 
 Roi je ne suis 
 
 Ne prince ne Comte aussi 
 
 Je suis le Sire de Coucy. 
 
 Mr. Henry was often a guest at the 
 palatial residences of his neighbours — his 
 bonhomie and hearty unaffected manner, 
 always regulated by innate good-breeding, 
 made him very welcome, and his bearing 
 to the high-born dames whom he there 
 met was courtly, chivalrous, and highly 
 deferential. His great age — he was born in 
 1734 when George II. was King — enabled 
 him to speak of remarkable events in our 
 annals, and ore rotundo, and with a slight 
 Micawber tinge, he would speak of the 
 great frost in the winter of 1740, for he 
 happened to be in London at the time, 
 after many days' journeying, in charge of 
 an elderly aunt, who was engaged in a
 
 the 18th and 19th centuries. 19 
 
 heavy chancery suit after the fashion of 
 Jamdyce v. Jarnclyce. 
 
 He used to speak with enthusiasm of 
 the battle of Dettingen in 1743, when 
 16,000 Englishmen, in conjunction with 
 the same number of Hanoverians (who, 
 however, took scarcely any part hi the 
 fight), under the personal command of 
 George II., who rode along the line with 
 his sword drawn encouraging his troops to 
 fight for the honour of England, defeated 
 the French army of 60,000, under the 
 Duke de Noailles, inflicting a loss of 
 5,000. 
 
 He also remembered the attempted inva- 
 sion of England by the French in 1744, and 
 the still more serious event of the follow- 
 ing year, when bonnie Prince Charlie landed 
 in Scotland and made his way to Lume- 
 chester. On that occasion Mr. Henry played 
 truant from the elderly aunt aforesaid, 
 and, walking from Whicham to Lumechester,
 
 20 natuke's nobility. 
 
 was so struck with the picturesque costume 
 of the Highlanders that had he been a 
 little older he would have joined the Pre- 
 tender's standard. 
 
 As it was he stayed so long in Lume- 
 chester to catch a sight of Prince Charlie, 
 of whose appearance he used to speak in 
 the highest terms in spite of his devotion 
 to the Hanoverian dynasty, that had he not 
 availed himself of the offer of a friendly 
 farmer from Whicham to give him a seat in 
 his light cart, he might have come to grief 
 in the streets of Lumechester, where a good 
 deal of excitement prevailed, and where the 
 claymore did not rest altogether in its 
 sheath. But his highest pleasure was to 
 speak of the coronation of George III., 
 which he had the good fortune to see, 
 having been sent up to London by his 
 elderly aunt to look after the Chancery 
 suit. 
 
 He was then twenty-six, and his visit,
 
 the 18th and 19th centukies. 21 
 
 during which he had the pleasure to see 
 his youthful sovereign, entirely effaced the 
 effect produced on him by Prince Charlie. 
 He described him as tall, with a good air, 
 his features well formed, his complexion 
 fair and countenance open and cheerful, 
 with a great expression of goodness. It 
 was then that he purchased the portrait 
 in Minton ware which fastened his cravat. 
 Ever afterwards he subscribed to the 
 Courier, a London newspaper, published 
 once a week, and which reached him at 
 the earliest a week after publication ; so 
 that he was more conversant than the in- 
 habitants of Whicham generally with the 
 topics of the day, and was regarded as a 
 great authority, and after church, which 
 he attended every Sunday morning with 
 the utmost punctuality, his neighbours 
 took advantage of the occasion and drew 
 from him his opinions of the state of the 
 Empire, which he gave with the greatest
 
 22 nature's nobility. 
 
 willingness, always concluding by warning 
 his hearers against the Radical tendencies 
 of the day. There was one Sunday, how- 
 ever, in the year when the neighbours 
 with one accord avoided speaking to him; 
 it was the anniversary of the death of 
 that dear sister whose memory he cher- 
 ished so much. 
 
 On that day the responses fell in a 
 subdued tone from his lips, the erect 
 frame was bent, the clear blue eye was 
 dimmed, and after waiting until all the 
 congregation had departed he would make 
 his way to her tomb, and there place the 
 wreath of flowers which he had prepared 
 for the occasion.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A NOBLE MERCHANT. 
 
 The house which, when our story opened, 
 Mr. Henry was leaving with his little 
 charge, was, as we have said, in the 
 Cathedral Close of Lumechester, which on 
 its northern side skirted the edge of the- 
 river that ran through the town. This 
 having a considerable width and depth at 
 all times, became, after a continued heavy 
 fall of rain, a boiling torrent, rushing down 
 with fearfully increased volume and im- 
 petus, and carrying with it too often the 
 debris of destroyed buildings, and the 
 cattle which it had, on a sudden rise, 
 swept from the low-lying lands on its
 
 24 nature's nobility. 
 
 banks. Near where the Cathedral stood, 
 a copious stream, which at such time' 
 became a swollen torrent, dashed head- 
 long into the river, and the two beat 
 each other into a whirlpool of white foam. 
 But usually they were quietly gliding 
 waters, and though fast losing their 
 purity, owing to the discharges from the 
 manufactories which had already begun 
 to settle on the banks above, they still 
 retained sufficient to offer to the boy- 
 sportsman a good bag of perch and dace 
 on a favourable day. The two streams 
 at this point formed a small peninsula, 
 on which stood the Cathedral and its 
 surrounding buildings, including an an- 
 cient institution, founded by a former 
 merchant of Lumechester, where about 60 
 boys, clad in the picturesque costume of 
 the time of Henry VIII., were brought up 
 in a gothic structure of very ancient date, 
 formerly a monastery, full of charmingly
 
 A NOBLE MERCHANT. 25 
 
 antique rooms and passages, with a most 
 valuable collection of books and ancient 
 manuscripts, arranged along the walls of an 
 oak-panelled library, a perfect specimen 
 of monkish architecture and comfort, open 
 daily to all visitors, whether for the pur- 
 poses of literature or curiosity. 
 
 The Close formed a kind of half circle 
 about the Cathedral, with a handsome old 
 gateway leading into the town. There 
 was no carriage road in the Close, but a 
 broad, well-flagged footway extended be- 
 tween the Cathedral railings and the 
 houses. The house referred to was on 
 the northerly side of the Close, and 
 stood on a rock some fifty feet above the 
 river, to the edge of which the well-kept 
 garden extended, where it was bounded 
 by a high wall, on the top of which were 
 arranged vases filled with choice flowers. 
 The front of the house, which looked to- 
 wards the Cathedral, presented a handsome
 
 26 natuee's nobility. 
 
 appearance, having been erected in the 
 early part of the 16th century by some" 
 resident of the town of position and means. 
 A massive doorway, with oak door to match, 
 led into a wide hall with solid oak floor- 
 ing, the centre of which was covered by 
 oilcloth of rich but sombre hue, which, 
 under the influence of some polish of 
 great efficiency, presented a surface shining 
 like glass. On either side stood a large 
 basin of fine earthenware, supported on a 
 bronze tripod, and filled with choice flowers. 
 To the right and left opened the dining- 
 room and library, the walls of each of 
 polished old oak, and the furniture massive, 
 and though of ancient date in excellent 
 preservation ; carpets of the richest make 
 and suitable colour covered the floors. The 
 dining-room was higher by a step at the 
 upper end than at the lower, forming 
 a dais, the lower end being entered by 
 a separate door. Paintings by ancient
 
 A NOBLE MEKCHANT. 27 
 
 masters covered the walls. In the library 
 massive book-cases, filled with handsomely- 
 bound books, fitted appropriate recesses. 
 The mantel-piece in each room was high 
 and wide, made of old British oak, and 
 covered with well-executed carvings of 
 birds, fruits, and flowers. At the end of the 
 hall a large double glass door disclosed 
 the drawing room, which burst upon the 
 view in marked contrast with the sober- 
 looking hall and dining room and library. 
 In the latter the sober taste of a man 
 could be traced — in the former the taste 
 of a refined woman alive to the influence 
 of colour could be discovered. The oak 
 panels had been covered with light- 
 blue paper, elaborately worked in with 
 gold, the panels being bordered with suit- 
 able designs in oil painting, illustrating 
 the flowers peculiar to each month. The 
 large oak beams which covered the ceil- 
 ing at right angles with the room had
 
 28 natuee's nobility. 
 
 been so " picked out," in a beautiful com- 
 bination of gold and colouring, that they 
 added to instead of marring the general 
 effect. Eich curtains, surmounted by elabo- 
 rately carved gilt cornices, from which de- 
 pended fringe of the most costly character, 
 ornamented the windows, which had been 
 deepened so as to touch the floor, and the 
 former antiquated glass had been removed, 
 and large plate glass, then an expensive 
 luxury, had been substituted. Well executed 
 water colour drawings, after Watteau, hung 
 in the centre of each panel. A noble 
 mantel-piece of purest marble, with figures 
 of shepherds and shepherdesses and their 
 attendant flocks, was the work of an Italian 
 artist, who had brought his taste and his 
 poverty to the town of Lumechester, and 
 who, for a sum which to him appeared 
 boundless wealth, designed and executed the 
 work. Poor fellow ! He had finished his 
 work and received the reward of his labour,
 
 A NOBLE MERCHANT. 29 
 
 and kneeling, to take a farewell of that 
 which to him had been a labour of love, 
 he then and there breathed his last ; the 
 cold climate of Lnmechester and the smoke 
 of its manufactories had been too much 
 for the delicate child of the sunny South. 
 The richest carpet which the looms of 
 Turkey could produce covered the floor, and 
 gave a warmth which a northerly aspect 
 specially required. A large mirror over the 
 mantel-piece, another on a console table 
 opposite, and one at each end of the room 
 gave additional width and breadth to what 
 was of itself a noble apartment. Exquisite 
 flowers, intermixed with richly-bound books, 
 stood on inlaid tables of beautiful work- 
 maDship and design, and on a separate one 
 made for the purpose was a splendid silver 
 vase, the inscription on which showed that 
 it was the gift of grateful friends. Between 
 the window curtains, as if set in picture- 
 frames, were seen well-arranged flower-beds,
 
 30 natuke's nobility. 
 
 carefully planned to correspond with the 
 prevailing colour of the room. The owner 
 of this mansion was Mr. Eobert De Noel, 
 a second cousin of Mr. Henry, and the 
 father of little Lawrence de Noel, the boy 
 who stood on the steps holding the hand 
 of his godfather. The father and mother 
 of Mr. Eobert de Noel (whom we shall 
 call Mr. Eobert) died when he was very 
 young, and his brothers and sisters, of 
 whom he had several, had also died 
 before he had himself attained twelve 
 years of age, and he was thus left under 
 the guardianship of a trustee named 
 in his father's will, who also died 
 when he was only fifteen; and on the 
 estate of the trustee being investigated it 
 was found that the boy's patrimony, which 
 was considerable, had been squandered, and 
 that the estate was insolvent. He was 
 from his childhood of a strongly religious 
 turn of mind, and whilst only a schoolboy
 
 A NOBLE MERCHANT. 31 
 
 had distinguished himself by a regular 
 attendance at the church of the Rev. Dr. 
 Smyley, who was the great organ of the 
 Low Church party in the town of Luine- 
 chester, and to whose ministrations flocked 
 in overflowing congregations the members 
 of the Church of England who wavered 
 between adhering to its doctrines and join- 
 ing the Dissenters, and who discovered in 
 Dr. Smyley's extemporaneous and fervent 
 sermons a kind of balm for their dislike 
 of the loose and almost irreverent manner 
 in which the services of the Church of, 
 England were then too frequently con- 
 ducted. 
 
 Besides the doctor's qualifications as a 
 pulpit orator, he was a constant and system- 
 atic caller at the house of every member of 
 his congregation, and in this most essential 
 duty of a clergyman he was ably supported 
 by his wife, whose well-timed attentions to 
 the poorer members of his flock in case of
 
 32 nature's nobility. 
 
 sickness were, though flavoured with a cer- 
 tain amount of eccentricity, greatly appre- 
 ciated; but the afflicted ones could not 
 always understand why, before they were 
 allowed to taste the dainties which she 
 brought, they were compelled to listen to 
 readings of portions of Dr. Smyley's ser- 
 mons, and to somewhat unmusical render- 
 ings of Dr. Smyley's hymns, to which was 
 not unfrequently added an extemporaneous 
 prayer by Mrs. Smyley. The misfortune 
 which had befallen Mr. Robert soon be- 
 came known amongst the congregation, and 
 their sympathy was large and general, and 
 it resulted in the offer by one of the 
 members of a position in his business of 
 merchant in Lumechester, which provided 
 for his simple wants. 
 
 His admirable bearing in the new life 
 into which he was thus thrown attracted 
 general respect, for it was well known that 
 he was of gentle birth, and that his an-
 
 A NOBLE MERCHANT. 33 
 
 cestors had not had occasion to enter into 
 trade. He had scarcely attained twenty-one 
 when the merchant who had befriended him 
 died, and so much had he even then gained 
 the confidence of the business connection, 
 that it not only remained with him but 
 thrived rapidly under his conduct of it. 
 He was extremely reserved, spoke little, 
 but that little was to the point, and 
 avoided "the vacant laugh that speaks the 
 empty mind;" indeed he seldom ever smiled. 
 Companions he had not, even in his youth- 
 ful days. If he ever unbent himself so 
 far as to pass an hour or two in conversa- 
 tion, it was generally with some minister 
 of the Church of England or of the Dis- 
 senters, and was chiefly on religious matters. 
 His faith was pure and simple. He hated 
 doctrinal discussions, sects and creeds were 
 as nothing to him. The Bible alone, read 
 in its literal and natural sense, contained 
 the articles of faith which were his guide. 
 vol. I. n
 
 34 NATUKE'S NOBILITY. 
 
 He was as willing to attend a dissenting 
 chapel as an episcopal church, and his 
 hand was equally open to the calls of 
 either. He began life with a determina- 
 tion to have God before his eyes at all 
 times. Before leaving his bedroom in a 
 morning he engaged in private devotion — 
 and then summoning all his household, 
 without exception, into the drawing-room, 
 he implored the aid and blessing of the 
 Almighty during the day in a manner 
 at once simple, eloquent, and reveren- 
 tial. Then hopefully going forth after the 
 morning meal he gave every nerve to the 
 struggle with the world. Strong in his 
 attachments, generous in disposition, whilst 
 firm in character, he managed to infuse 
 into those around him great zeal in the dis- 
 charge of their duties. His employes, both 
 in his business and in his household, had 
 all been many years in his service, several 
 from twenty to thirty years. We are
 
 A NOBLE MERCHANT. 35 
 
 told that the Earl of Northumberland of 
 the reign of Henry VII., wrote a book 
 of direction for the management of his 
 household, called the Northumberland 
 Household Book, in which the Earl entered 
 into the most minute particulars. He 
 even directed the number of fagots to be 
 allowed to each fire, and what the man- 
 servants were to have for their breakfast, 
 and what was to be provided for his own. 
 His household consisted of 166 persons. 
 Whether Mr. Robert had ever read of 
 the methodical habits of the Earl, or 
 whether his own good sense pointed out 
 the advantage of such order in a house- 
 hold, at all events each servant had a list 
 of duties to be performed during the clay, 
 and another was placed in the capacious 
 kitchen and in a recess in the hall of the 
 arrangement for the day's meals ; for though 
 nothing like in number that of the Earl's, 
 Mr. Robert's household was large, compris-
 
 36 
 
 NATURES NOBILITY. 
 
 ing, as it did, and as was the custom in 
 those days, the clerks employed in his 
 business. 
 
 In appearance Mr. Kobert was under the 
 medium size, but symmetrically built ; his 
 fine aquiline nose gave an aristocratic look 
 to his face, which was thin and pale and 
 rather expressive of sternness. His hair was 
 very dark, cut short, and carefully dressed. 
 He was clothed in a black suit, avoiding the 
 gilt buttons, knee breeches, and top boots 
 generally worn by the [young men of the 
 day. His white cravat, neatly tied, and the 
 long ends brought down over the shirt 
 front, was fastened by a gold brooch. His 
 boots were faultless in shape and polish. 
 When, at the age of twenty-four, he found 
 himself able to support a wife, he took 
 to himself one in every way calculated to 
 conduce to his happiness. She also was 
 of good birth, her mother being a member 
 of one of the best and most celebrated
 
 A NOBLE MEECHANT. 37 
 
 families in Ireland, but she herself was 
 born in England. She was only seventeen 
 when she married, and at the date of 
 our story was thirty-five, her husband 
 being forty- one. She was of medium 
 height, her figure graceful, and her de- 
 licate features were expressive of great 
 goodness of heart and intelligence. From 
 the day that she gave her hand to Mr. 
 Robert she loved him with unbounded de- 
 votion, and he returned her affection with 
 equal ardour. Mr. Henry was second cousin 
 to Mr. Robert, and not much intercourse 
 was kept up between them until Mr. 
 Robert had attained an acknowledged 
 position as a merchant. One thing had 
 caused coolness between them; an aunt 
 of Mr. Robert, who was also a cousin 
 of Mr. Henry, had on her death be- 
 queathed the rising young merchant a 
 legacy of seven hundred pounds, whilst 
 she left nothing to Mr. Henry. This
 
 38 natuee's nobility. 
 
 seven hundred pounds laid the foundation 
 of Mr. Robert's fortune, for it enabled 
 him to go into the market and dispense 
 with credit. 
 
 This was immensely in his favour, as 
 he could decline all the solicitations of 
 the manufacturers, and the seductions they 
 exercised in the shape of good dinners 
 and potent wines, for which he had no 
 taste. Fortune favoured his efforts, and 
 his reputation for being a man of meany 
 was supplemented by a reputation for be- 
 ing also a man of the highest truthfulness 
 and integrity. His success by no means 
 altered his character or his habits. He main- 
 tained the same reserve towards those 
 who approached him, and those who, for 
 their own objects, sought to obtain his 
 favour by flattery went away repulsed. 
 
 About five years before our story opens 
 Mr. Robert learnt that the house in the 
 Close could be bought at a sum which he
 
 A NOBLE MERCHANT. 39 
 
 could spare for the purpose. He had 
 often gazed wistfully at it, for it reminded 
 him of the house at Whicham, where he 
 had frequently visited Mr. Henry, and 
 hoped that some day he might become the 
 owner, and the wish was gratified. 
 
 It was the taste of Mrs. Robert that 
 had transformed the drawing room frum 
 a dull apartment into the elegant "salon" 
 we have described ; as to the remainder of 
 the house she was too much a woman of 
 sense to seek to alter its practical arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Robert had at the time 
 the story commences seven children. They 
 were all comely and healthy ; and sur- 
 rounded by his family, and with every 
 comfort and indeed luxury in his house, he 
 found there the only pleasures in which 
 he delighted. Social meetings at the lead- 
 ing hotels were much indulged in by the 
 merchants of Lumechester, and not a few
 
 40 natuee's nobility. 
 
 bargains were made which astonished both 
 bnyers and sellers on the following morn- 
 ing, when they looked into these after- 
 dinner business transactions ; but the domes- 
 tic happiness of his home and his high moral 
 character fortunately rescued Mr. Robert 
 from the temptations which were the ruin 
 of many. The dishonesty of his guardian 
 had prevented him receiving that educa- 
 tion to which he was by birth and patri- 
 mony entitled, and he decided that no 
 expense should be spared to render his 
 children worthy of the position which by 
 the aid of a kind Providence he trusted 
 they would occupy. His eldest daughter, 
 then fourteen years old, had the features 
 and disposition of her mother, and was, 
 even at that early age, a helpmate to her 
 in the management of the household. 
 
 His eldest son he destined for a Univer- 
 sity career. His second son, a high-spirited 
 little fellow, as mischievous as Puck, and
 
 A NOBLE MERCHANT. 41 
 
 the leader in all schoolboy pranks, was to 
 be in his own business. Two sweet girls 
 intervened, and then came little Lawrence, 
 whom we have introduced to the reader, 
 followed by the baby. Mr. Robert had, how- 
 ever, a source of great anxiety in the 
 delicacy of his dear wife. He thought that 
 her face grew paler and her little hands 
 thinner day by day, and his frame trembled 
 at the thought of losing her; for he had 
 a conviction that such a calamity was 
 possible, and he earnestly questioned the 
 doctor, who now attended her daily, and 
 though he was assured by him that he 
 need be under no apprehension, he still felt 
 a sinking at heart, and prayed to his God 
 to avert such a blow.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A MOB. 
 
 Me. Henry had received an invitation from 
 Mr. and Mrs. Roberts to visit them, a re- 
 petition of a visit, which, for many years past, 
 the former had paid annually to the Close, 
 and it was to take place on the 15th of 
 August and continue for a fortnight. It was 
 always an exciting event, not only to Mr. 
 Henry but also to Joseph, and involved an 
 amount of trouble and anxiety to the latter 
 not easily described. 
 
 The yellow coach had to be thoroughly 
 cleaned up, the wheels taken off and oiled, and 
 the harness, which was elaborately studded 
 with brass, highly polished. Arrangements
 
 A MOB. 43 
 
 had to be made with the landlord of the 
 "Spotted Deer" at Whicham for two of his 
 best post horses, to befit the very hand- 
 some but somewhat unwieldy carriage, 
 which, with its weighty hammercloth, could 
 not have justice done to it by any puny 
 steeds, however spirited they might be. 
 This involved much negotiation and bargain- 
 ing with the landlord aforesaid, who, looking 
 upon Mr. Henry as a "real gentleman," was 
 somewhat disposed to raise his terms, and 
 it was not until Joseph had plainly hinted 
 that it was possible to get horses from 
 Lumechester that Boniface could be brought 
 to terms, and this was not effected until 
 almost the last moment, although the nego- 
 tiation had been commenced on the arrival 
 of the invitation on the 1st of August. The 
 place in which the coach was kept had not 
 been originally intended for a coach-house, 
 but there was ample room and to spare, and 
 a covering supplied by the coach-builder had
 
 44 nature's mobility. 
 
 always been deemed sufficient to preserve 
 the coach from being seriously affected by 
 damp. The harness was hung upon sup- 
 ports projecting from the wooden partition 
 separating the coach-house from the stables 
 in which Moore, the tenant of the farm, 
 kept his horses. Upon this particular occa- 
 sion Joseph's temper and patience were sorely 
 tried. It was many months since the coach 
 had been in use, and its great weight had 
 so pressed on the unsound wooden flooring 
 of the coach-house, that all Joseph's in- 
 dividual efforts to drag it out entirely failed, 
 and with much reluctance he was obliged 
 to ask Moore for the loan of one of his 
 horses to assist him, a favour which was 
 rather grudgingly granted, as Mr. Henry 
 and his tenant had had that day a little 
 tiff on the subject of an allowance for some 
 repairs. 
 
 On putting the animal to work, having 
 first harnessed him to the bar, he gave such
 
 A MOB. 45 
 
 a strong pull that, owing probably to the 
 box of the wheel being rusty, he twisted 
 the iron work on the off side before he 
 could get the wheel out of the hole in 
 which it had imbedded itself. This did 
 not increase Joseph's equanimity of temper, 
 and he blamed the carter for the misfor- 
 tune. It involved the coach being placed 
 under the hands of the village black- 
 smith, who undertook to put it to rights, 
 and who, as may be supposed, failed in 
 his promise, but without informing the 
 unsuspecting Joseph. Besides all these 
 anxieties, Mr. Henry's visiting suit had' 
 to be furbished up, and the laced cravats, 
 silk stockings, buckles and shoes, looked 
 to, and this quite independent of his own 
 attire, in regard to which he was equally 
 particular. What interval remained he de- 
 voted to informing the neighbours of his 
 intended departure, especially impressing 
 upon the postman the necessity of imme-
 
 46 nature's nobility. 
 
 diately forwarding all letters and newspapers 
 to the house in the Close. It was arranged 
 that they should start at eleven o'clock on 
 the morning of the fifteenth, so as to secure 
 arrival at the Close before the dinner hour, 
 which at Lumechester even in the best 
 houses was one o'clock. Joseph had, to the 
 perfect satisfaction of himself, got ready the 
 coach and harness, and at ten o'clock stepped 
 across to the " Spotted Deer " to see that the 
 steeds were ready to be put to. What was 
 his chagrin to find that one of the horses had 
 been taken ill in the night, and was unable to 
 do the job. Although the " Spotted Deer " 
 possessed other horses, they were all out and 
 not expected back until late at night. What 
 was to be done ? His master's character, his 
 own, and that of Whicham generally were at 
 stake ; for was it to be said in the Eadical 
 town of Lumechester, that Whicham, the 
 aristocratic and select, the abode of an Earl, 
 and the champion of the Tory interest, could
 
 A MOB. 47 
 
 not turn out a pair of post horses. Under 
 the pressure of intense feeling Joseph asked 
 himself what was to be done. Moore, the 
 farmer, had a white horse which would not be 
 a bad match for the capable horse at the 
 " Spotted Deer," but numerous questions 
 arose. Would Moore, after the tiff, let them 
 have it ? Could it be clipped and singed — for 
 it was as rough as a bear — in any reasonable 
 time % Could it then be washed ] Could 
 its big farmshoes be changed for those of a 
 carriage horse \ Joseph rose to the occasion, 
 and boldly facing Moore, obtained, after 
 much negociation (carrying his point only by' 
 the aid of Mrs. Moore), the concession of the 
 horse for the day ; then, instructing the black- 
 smith to make the shoes, Joseph, with the 
 aid of the ostler of the " Spotted Deer, " set 
 to work to clip, singe, and wash the animal. 
 Well, here he had his work to do ; the 
 horse, unaccustomed to such tender solicitude, 
 declined to be made nice and clean, and
 
 48 natuee's nobility. 
 
 especially expressed his dissatisfaction at the 
 singeing operation, and numerous buckets of 
 warm water and soap were kicked over before 
 the application had taken proper effect on 
 his hide. This being at last accomplished, 
 Joseph took him to the blacksmith, who, 
 after many struggles (for the animal had 
 by this time got excited), put on the new 
 shoes. The pair being attached to the car- 
 riage, the luggage having been put in the 
 boot, and the coachman (alias post boy) hav- 
 ing ascended the box, a start was made. But 
 what was Joseph's indignation when he 
 found that the off fore wheel commenced 
 what is called " wobbling, " and to such an 
 extent as to excite the laughter of the little 
 group of idlers who had collected to see 
 the squire start for London. Mr. Henry him- 
 self, who was seated in a dignified position 
 in the yellow carriage, was at a loss to con- 
 ceive the cause of the merriment, and 
 called on the coachman to stop, and ordered
 
 A MOB. 49 
 
 Joseph to descend from the box. On 
 learning the state of the case he good- 
 naturedly said that it could not be helped, 
 and told Joseph to make the best of a 
 bad job. But Joseph's spirit was grieved all 
 the way ; the white horse was given to 
 shying and jibbing ; the turnpike man, who 
 had watched the peculiar movement of the 
 fore wheel, as it approached the gate, en- 
 quired whether he intended to pay extra 
 for a wheel which was on both sides of 
 the road at once ; but the most unkind cut 
 of all was from a rough-looking man at 
 the entrance to Lumechester, who stood with 
 a small bull and terrier dog under his arm, 
 and shouted out, 
 
 " I say, felly, thou'd better take this little 
 dog to help thee on." 
 
 The slow pace they came at, together 
 with the loss of time before starting, had 
 delayed their arrival until long after the 
 dinner hour at the Close. Mr. Robert's ser- 
 
 VOL. I. e
 
 50 natuee's nobility. 
 
 vant, however, who had long been waiting 
 at the gateway for the carriage, assured 
 the visitor that this would be no incon- 
 venience, and that dinner would be on the 
 table in a few minutes. 
 
 Ordering the coachman to leave the car- 
 riage at the coach-builder's, Mr. Henry 
 walked to the Close, followed by the ser- 
 vant with the luggage. Mr. Eobert was 
 at business, having, after waiting some 
 time, deputed his wife to receive his cousin. 
 She received him in the hall with that 
 peculiar grace and hearty greeting which 
 was her characteristic ; whilst he, on the 
 other hand, bowing low, took her left hand 
 and kissed it, and then saluted the children 
 with the same respect as if they had been 
 adults, until he came to little Lawrie, whom 
 he addressed as " my dear Master Lawrie. I 
 hope you too are quite well, " and bending 
 down kissed the child. 
 
 In a few minutes a nice dinner was
 
 A MOB. 51 
 
 placed before the old gentleman, and, as 
 his godson, Lawrie was allowed to sit at 
 the table. 
 
 " My dear Madam," said Mr. Henry, as 
 he sipped the soup, " I hope that your 
 worthy husband is well." 
 
 "Thank you, cousin, he is quite well; 
 but I think that he feels rather anxious 
 about the state of things here ; trade is so 
 dull and the hands show such a bad spirit — 
 he is much afraid they mean mischief." 
 
 " Ah, my dear Madam, I always prophe- 
 sied that no good would come of this 
 manufacturing that is going on now ; what 
 do we want, I should like to know, with 
 all this cotton spinning and calico making] 
 I have lived, my dear Madam, many years, 
 and think that all that kind of thing 
 should be left to Frenchmen and such out- 
 landish people." 
 
 "But, cousin, what are we to do without 
 if? People want cotton cloth and calico, 
 
 II HF 111. LIB.
 
 52 nature's nobility. 
 
 and if we won't make it other countries 
 will, and we shall be out of the market, 
 and it is said that these things which you 
 despise so much will add greatly to the 
 wealth of England." 
 
 "My dear Madam, I never could argue 
 with a lady, especially with one so good 
 as you are." 
 
 And then the subject was dropped. 
 Having pronounced the soup excellent? 
 he turned to little Lawrie. 
 
 "Dear Master Lawrie, can you read 1 ?" 
 said he. 
 
 " Oh yes, Godpapa ; Ma has taught me 
 to read the Bible, and I know all about 
 Jonah in the whale's belly." 
 
 The old gentleman, whose Bible -reading 
 had been rather neglected, said, as he sliced 
 the fish, 
 
 "Do you know how he got there, Master 
 Lawrie ? " 
 
 " Yes, Godpapa ; he was very naughty, so
 
 A MOB. 53 
 
 the people put him out of the ship and 
 the whale swallowed him." 
 
 " Indeed. Well, I think, Lawrie, it is our 
 turn now, so by your leave I will swallow 
 the fish," and, suiting the action to the 
 word, lifted a nice piece of Ribble salmon 
 to his mouth. 
 
 The meeting of the two cousins in the 
 evening, when Mr. Robert returned from 
 his business, was sincerely kind and even 
 affectionate on both sides. On hearing 
 the knock, Mr. Henry went from the draw- 
 ing-room, where he had been listening to 
 some sacred music which Mrs. Robert had 
 been playing with much taste on one of 
 Broad wood's best, then just coming into 
 fashion, and advanced to meet his cousin 
 in the hall. 
 
 "My very dear Sir," said Mr. Henry, "I 
 thank you for your kind invitation to your 
 hospitable mansion." 
 
 "My dear cousin," said Mr. Robert, grasp-
 
 54 natuee's nobility. 
 
 ing him warmly by the hand, " you are sin- 
 cerely welcome ; it is a pleasure to keep 
 up a good feeling with so esteemed a 
 relative." 
 
 The reign of good King George the Third 
 culminated in gloom. The manufacturing 
 industries of the country had attained large 
 proportions, and the labouring classes en- 
 gaged in them began to feel their own 
 power, and when want of employment and 
 its attendant distress befell them, they loudly 
 charged the landlords and the corn laws as 
 being the cause. The landlords, in their 
 turn, looked down on the manufacturers' 
 interests and their workmen as temporary 
 excrescences, not required for England's good, 
 and treated the arguments forcibly used by 
 the leaders of the working men, Cobbett 
 and others, as new-fangled doctrines only 
 worthy of contempt. 
 
 The glories of Waterloo had paled before 
 the heavy taxes imposed to pay the
 
 A MOB. 55 
 
 expenses of the war. The Court was un- 
 popular, and Lancashire was teeming with 
 discontent and insurrectionary feelings. On 
 the 16th August arrangements had been 
 made by the popular leaders for a monster 
 meeting in the town of Lumechester. A 
 son of Moore, the tenant at Whicham, was 
 one of the under-gamekeepers on the Earl 
 of Whicham's estate, and some time be- 
 fore had been severely wounded by poach- 
 ers from Lumechester in an affray in 
 which both parties used their guns very 
 freely. YoungjMoore was severely wounded, 
 and was carried off the next day to' 
 the Infirmary at Lumechester, where he 
 there lay suffering severely from his wound. 
 Mr. Henry had been requested by Mrs. 
 Moore to be the bearer of some little 
 comforts and a small purse of money for 
 her son, and the squire had promised to 
 see him at the Infirmary and hand over 
 the gifts and say some kind words to
 
 56 natuee's nobility. 
 
 cheer him up. So, in accordance with his 
 pledge, Mr. Henry, as he stood on the 
 door steps of the house in the Close with 
 little Lawrie, the day after his arrival, 
 looked down on the boy, and said, 
 
 " Master Lawrie, we will, if you please 
 sir, go to the Infirmary to see young Tom 
 Moore." 
 
 "To the Infirm-inry," replied little Lawrie, 
 mis-pronouncing " Infirmary." " But, God- 
 papa, why do you wish to go amongst all 
 those dirty people] Let us go and see if 
 there are any fish in the river ; nurse 
 showed me some last week above there " — 
 pointing towards some green fields which 
 at a short distance from the Close ran 
 down to the river side. 
 
 "My little man," said Mr. Henry, "we 
 will go there another day, but I pro- 
 mised Tom's mother I would go this very 
 morning." 
 
 Assisted by a stout gold-headed cane, which
 
 A MOB. 57 
 
 his great age rendered a necessary adjunct, 
 and with his left hand holding little Lawrie's 
 right, and his tall figure held erect, he 
 strode along the Close and passed through 
 the gate leading into the town. So soon 
 as they passed through this, they found 
 themselves in the busy throng of a large 
 manufacturing town. It was the dinner 
 hour for the mill hands, and crowds of 
 unwashed, unkempt children employed in 
 the factories were hurrying to their homes 
 to snatch a hasty meal, then back to the 
 tall grim buildings where they earned 
 their daily bread. There were no laws 
 then in force for regulating the employ- 
 ment of children in factories, and some of 
 those they met were infants no older than 
 little Lawrie himself; their pale faces and 
 attenuated frames told of the many hours' 
 work in the day they had to go through. 
 In many instances their clothes were mere 
 rags, and as they passed Mr. Henry and his
 
 58 nature's nobility. 
 
 charge, one of the urchins said to another, 
 " Si thee, Bill ! didst ever see such a 
 foine little chap ; " and they both stopped to 
 wonder at his fine apparel. 
 
 " My eyes," said one of a group of work- 
 men that stood at the comer of the street, 
 after looking intently at Mr. Henry, " I 
 reckon he's out of th' The-a-ter." 
 
 And thus they passed along, gazed 
 at by everyone they met as beings of 
 a different order to themselves. Turning 
 to the left, after traversing the first 
 street, they found themselves in the 
 principal street of Lumechester. The pre- 
 sent generation look upon Lumechester as 
 a new town, brought into existence by the 
 cotton manufacture, when in truth it is 
 one of the most ancient towns in the 
 kingdom. It was a fortified town in the 
 time of the Eomans, who had a large 
 camp there. The principal street was at 
 the time we write long and narrow ; the
 
 A MOB. 59 
 
 footways could scarcely be called such — 
 they were utterly insufficient for the mass 
 of foot passengers at that hour struggling 
 homewards, and the larger proportion were 
 driven into the roadway, where they got 
 mixed up in a crowd of vehicles of all kinds, 
 the confusion being not a little increased 
 by the London coach having just arrived, 
 and it was as much as the driver could 
 do to navigate through the crowd without 
 running over somebody. Mr. Henry be- 
 gan to regret having come out at this 
 hour, and would gladly, had he been 
 able, have retraced his steps and complied 
 with Lawrie's longing for the green fields 
 and the fish ; but he found it impossible, 
 so he took shelter with Lawrie in the 
 doorway of a shop, permission being 
 readily accorded by the proprietor, who 
 instantly took off his hat to the old gen- 
 tleman, a token of respect then going out 
 of fashion amongst the Lumechester trades-
 
 60 natuke's nobility. 
 
 men. Here he remained nntil the commo- 
 tion caused by the " Highflyer " had sub- 
 sided, and meanwhile he gazed at the 
 old buildings opposite, which, though he 
 had seen them on his annual visits, al- 
 ways had an interest for him. Those of 
 our readers who have been in the Jews' 
 street at Frankfort, or are acquainted with 
 the old towns in Spain, will be able to 
 form an idea of the principal street of 
 Lumechester at that time. 
 
 The buildings bent forward in affection- 
 ate respect for those on the opposite side, 
 each storey projecting over the one beneath 
 it until the culminating point was reached, 
 when they almost seemed to join heads 
 together. 
 
 The ground floor had, in nearly every 
 case, been turned into a shop. To some there 
 was a descent, in others an ascent. Some 
 of the old windows had been left, in other 
 cases large plate -glass panes (then very ex-
 
 A MOB. 61 
 
 pensive) gave a touch of modern style to 
 the buildings. 
 
 Here and there, but in very few cases, 
 the old buildings had been replaced by 
 modern brick structures of the most taste- 
 less character. It was clear that sooner or 
 later the hand of the destroyer would sweep 
 away all these picturesque old piles. Such 
 has been the case, for not a vestige now 
 remains of them, or of the fine old build- 
 ings on the northerly side of the Close. 
 Several other streets in the immediate 
 vicinity of the Cathedral partook of the same 
 ancient character, but they too have dis-- 
 appeared, and if any Lumechester Kip van 
 Winkle were now to find himself in his 
 native town, the changes would seem to him 
 as great as those which astonished the 
 Dutchman after his long sleep. He would 
 see, for instance, standing on the very site 
 of the building on which Mr. Henry looked 
 with such interest, one of the most splen-
 
 62 natuee's nobility. 
 
 did and convenient "Exchanges" in the 
 world, a structure in which architectural 
 beauty goes hand in hand with practical 
 utility. This site belonged to Mr. Robert, 
 and some years ago was sold by his children 
 to the Exchange Company for nearly £50,000, 
 a sum which, in those days, would have 
 been thought a fabulous price. 
 
 The High-street having become less 
 crowded, Mr. Henry and Lawrie continued 
 their way towards the Infirmary, which stood 
 facing the top of High- street, but divided 
 from it by Mornington-street branching off 
 at right angles and forming one of the 
 modern additions to the town. 
 
 Country visitors to a large town are 
 sensible of a kind of "roar" which begins 
 with the early morn and continues until 
 midnight, and keeps up a nervous excite- 
 ment by the habitual residents unfelt. 
 We who write in the quiet seclusion 
 of a rural village freely confess to the
 
 A MOB. 63 
 
 distinct effect on our nerves of this " roar " 
 whenever we enter the great city. This 
 " roar " dinned the hearing of Mr. Henry, 
 and produced a kind of stupefaction, under 
 which he clutched almost convulsively the 
 hand of little Lawrie as he was on the 
 point of crossing High-street to Morning- 
 ton-street, and thence to the Infirmary. 
 But here their progress was stayed. An 
 immense mob, rushing wildly up Mom- 
 ington- street caught them in its vortex, 
 and they were whirled round. Mr. Henry 
 lifted up his little charge, but he was vio- 
 lently seized from his arms, and he him-' 
 self was thrust, minus his gold-headed 
 cane, against a door that was instantly 
 forced open by the weight of the crowd, 
 and bruised, stunned, and partially insen- 
 sible, he was flung violently into the en- 
 trance of an hotel in the High-street. 
 The people of the house very kindly 
 assisted him to rise, brought him a resto-
 
 64 natuee's nobility. 
 
 rative, and led him into one of the rooms, 
 where, as soon as he could recover his 
 senses, he set to work to describe little 
 Lawrie, and offered a handsome reward for 
 his recovery. The " boots," a good-natured 
 fellow, instantly sallied forth to inquire 
 after the lost boy, but he returned in a 
 few minutes with the depressing news that 
 the street had been cleared by the Yeo- 
 manry, and that there was scarcely a soul to 
 be seen. The monster meeting before re- 
 ferred to had been attended by some 80,000 
 people, a large proportion of whom were 
 women, and it consisted of workpeople from 
 the neighbouring towns as well as those of 
 Lumechester. Waggons had been placed in 
 the centre of a large open space at the 
 western end of Momington-street, and by 
 means of planks these had been converted 
 into a platform, from which speeches of a 
 violent and seditious character had been 
 made by the ringleaders of the mob.
 
 A MOB. 65 
 
 The authorities had only leamt the 
 intention to hold the meeting late in the 
 morning, there were no regular troops in 
 the town, and in a state of despair they 
 hastily summoned to their aid some 
 troops of Yeomanry Cavalry, Cheshire as 
 well as Lancashire. These men, chiefly 
 young farmers, having no sympathy with 
 demagogues or their victims, at the word 
 of command charged with right good will 
 up to the platform, scattering the mob in 
 wild confusion. They easily cleared the 
 platform with their sabres, with the ex- 
 ception of one man, tall, of broad shoulders 
 and of military bearing, who, with only a 
 stout stick, parried the cuts of the soldiers ; 
 but, finding himself unsupported, he sprang 
 from the platform and joined the rest in 
 their flight. The affrighted mob then 
 rushed towards every outlet, the principal 
 body surging up Mornington-street and 
 engulphing Mr. Henry and Lawrie. 
 
 vol. r. p
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DISTE ACTION. 
 
 On receiving " boots' " report, Mr. Henry 
 sent him to the Close with a verbal mes- 
 sage to Mrs. Robert, to the effect that 
 they had been involved in a mob and had 
 taken refuge at the " Crown and Cushion " 
 until the streets were quieter, but that, as 
 soon as they were, they would make their 
 way to the Close. But before the messen- 
 ger arrived Mrs. Robert had heard of the 
 entente, and questioned him closely, and 
 compelled him to admit that Lawrie was 
 not at the "Crown and Cushion," and that 
 he had not at the time he left there been 
 found. Not staying to put on her walking
 
 DISTKACTION. 67 
 
 dress, but simply taking her bonnet, which 
 lay ready to hand, she hurried alone to 
 the police-office in great agitation, to make 
 enquiries respecting her little son and his 
 protector. In those days the " Peelers " 
 had not been organised. The paid con- 
 stables who kept watch on the criminal 
 classes went by the name of " runners " 
 and corresponded to the modern detectives. 
 
 The runners of Lumechester were cele- 
 brated for their powerful frames, daring, and 
 intelligence. No odds appalled them. Any 
 one of them would alone enter a room 
 rilled with desperate characters, and singling 
 out the man he wanted drag him forth at 
 any risk. In one case one of them had 
 tracked three men whom he had to arrest 
 into the mountains of Yorkshire, and found 
 them at a lone road-side tavern, far away 
 from any dwelling where he could seek assist- 
 ance. He unhesitatingly walked into the 
 room where they sat, and demanded their
 
 68 natuee's nobility. 
 
 surrender, on which one of them struck 
 him on the shoulder with a bludgeon . 
 this he returned by felling his assailant 
 senseless to the ground with his truncheon; 
 he turned just in time to grapple with 
 another, whom he threw heavily, being a 
 Kendal man, his head coming in contact 
 with the grate, and putting him hors 
 de combat; the third rushed at him 
 with a knife; he seized him by the wrist 
 of the hand that held it, and driving the 
 end of his truncheon into his temples 
 knocked him over the table, then without 
 the loss of an instant put the " bracelets ? ' 
 upon all three and marched them off. The 
 (i Charlies," as they were called, to whom 
 were entrusted the lives and property of 
 the inhabitants of Lumechester during the 
 hours of the night, were almost without 
 exception men who accepted the post as a 
 kind of sinecure. Old Tombs, the midnight 
 guardian of the Close, entered nightly upon
 
 DISTKACTION. 69 
 
 his functions with his head enveloped in 
 a formidable woollen nightcap, surrounded 
 by a very broad-brimmed hat, a lantern, 
 and a large bull and terrier dog. He was 
 between sixty and seventy and very rheu- 
 matic. 
 
 As regarded him the words of Virgil 
 were specially applicable, " Vox et prceterea 
 nihil." In bandying abuse with a midnight 
 brawler he was unequalled. The loud harsh 
 tones in which he called the hours grated 
 on the ear and banished slumber. How 
 different to the musical tones in which the 
 watchmen of Toledo chant the hour, adding, 
 "and may God preserve you" — a fine bass 
 taking the third to an equally fine tenor. 
 
 When Mrs. Kobert reached the police 
 office she found all the men exhausted with 
 their efforts during the morning, but know- 
 ing her husband well by name they ex- 
 pressed their utmost solicitude about the 
 safety of her child, and promised to make
 
 70 natuee's nobility. 
 
 every effort to recover him, and with this 
 poor satisfaction the distressed mother was 
 for the time compelled to be content; from 
 thence she hastened to the "Crown and 
 Cushion," and found Mr. Henry in a state 
 that for the moment almost drowned her 
 anxiety about her son. 
 
 " It was all my fault, my dear Madam," 
 he exclaimed, " for dear little Lawrie wanted 
 me to go with him to the meadows to 
 look after the fish, and I was so cruel as 
 to refuse, though I must say, my dear 
 cousin, in excuse, that Tom Moore's mother 
 had made me promise to see him at the 
 Infirmary to-day with a little purse. Tom 
 has been badly shot by those cursed poach- 
 ers, and we were on our way there when 
 that confounded mob of furious Eadicals 
 came rushing up, followed by those fine 
 fellows the Yeomanry, and the dear lit- 
 tle fellow, though I did take him in 
 my arms, was swept from me, and do
 
 DISTRACTION. 71 
 
 all I could I have not seen or heard 
 anything of him since. And, my dear 
 Madam, do believe me when I say that 
 I would give my own life at this moment 
 if I could restore him to you." 
 
 And with that the kind-hearted old 
 gentleman, who had been crying more or 
 less since he lost Lawrie, burst afresh 
 into tears, and sobbed as if his heart 
 would break. Mrs. Eobert took her cousin 
 by the hand and said, 
 
 "Dear cousin, God will protect my 
 boy. I leave the matter in His hands. His 
 will be done " — with that she helped him 
 to rise from his seat, took his arm affec- 
 tionately, and gently led him from the 
 "Crown and Cushion" towards her home. 
 
 There was an ominous silence in High- 
 street; all the shop windows were closed, a 
 few Yeomanry patrolling up and down. One 
 of these, a young farmer from Whicham, 
 riding up to them and saluting Mr. Henry,
 
 72 natuee's nobility. 
 
 offered his services as an escort home, 
 without asking " the Squire " how it was 
 that he looked so downcast and so unlike 
 himself, but with many thanks they de- 
 clined his kindness. Arrived at the Close 
 they found Mr. Robert, who had left his 
 place of business and hastened home. His 
 wife threw herself into his arms, exclaim- 
 ing, " God's will be done, Robert," and 
 then in a few hurried and broken sen- 
 tences told him all. Mr. Robert turned 
 ghastly pale, but his self-possession did not 
 leave him for a moment. He asked his 
 wife whether she had offered a reward for 
 the recovery of his lost child, and finding 
 that she had not. he took his pen and 
 wrote as follows : — 
 
 "To the Chief- Constable of Lumechester. 
 I will pay one hundred pounds reward for 
 the recovery of my child, Lawrence de 
 Noel." 
 
 Then handing this to a servant, with
 
 DISTRACTION. 73 
 
 strict injunctions to deliver it to the 
 Chief-Constable in person, he sat down 
 perfectly calm, and endeavoured to extract 
 from Mr. Henry all the circumstances. 
 This was no easy matter, as Mr. Henry's 
 nerves were so shaken by the events of 
 the clay that he seemed almost incompe- 
 tent to give any correct and intelligible 
 account of the disappearance of the child. 
 On being questioned closely by his cousin 
 as to whether he had let the boy drop 
 from his arms or whether he had been 
 forcibly taken from him, he brought him- 
 self to remember that a big burly man in, 
 shirt sleeves, with a tall masculine wo- 
 man by his side, had seized the boy, 
 exclaiming, " The Lord hath given him into 
 my hands." 
 
 Mr. Robert, immediately after extracting 
 from Mr. Henry the information mentioned 
 above, forwarded it to the police-office by 
 one of the clerks. And on the note being
 
 74 nature's nobility. 
 
 handed to the Chief- Constable, the clerk 
 observed the countenance of the latter light 
 up, as if he had received a communication 
 of importance, and on his return, being 
 asked by Mr. E-obert if the Chief-Constable 
 had said anything, he replied, " Not a word," 
 but said that he had immediately rung his 
 bell, in answer to which there entered a tall 5 
 bronzed man of powerful frame and deter- 
 mined look, but having nothing of the 
 constable in his appearance, to whom he 
 whispered something, and then added in his 
 usual tone " immediately," on which the 
 man answered, " Yes, sir," and left the 
 room. 
 
 Mr. Robert calmly thought over all event- 
 ualities, and looking at the lawless character 
 of the ringleaders of the mob, at the fact 
 that some of them had a reward for their 
 apprehension hanging over their heads, and 
 that possibly force might be needed to 
 rescue his child, he summoned his clerks
 
 DISTRACTION. 75 
 
 and man-servant into the dining-room, and 
 addressed them thus : — 
 
 " You all know the terrible calamity 
 that has befallen me and my dear wife " 
 — when he referred to his wife he knew 
 that he touched a chord in each heart, 
 for her kindness and consideration towards 
 them had endeared her to all. " If you 
 have partaken of my prosperity " — he 
 referred to his custom of giving a gratuity 
 to each of them, in proportion to the 
 successful business results of the year — 
 " I hope you will aid me in my 
 adversity, and that you will even undergo 
 some danger, if necessary, in assisting me 
 to recover our lost child. One or two 
 amongst you are too old to go through 
 much exertion, and from those I expect 
 only sympathy." 
 
 The senior clerk, whose eyes full of tears, 
 and trembling voice showed how much he 
 felt, replied,
 
 76 natuke's nobility. 
 
 " Dear sir, we do indeed feel for you, and 
 every one of us, old and young," and he 
 turned towards the others, " will go through 
 fire and water to serve you and our dear 
 mistress. Only tell us what you wish us 
 to do, and we will, with God's help, do it, 
 even if it be to the loss of our lives." 
 With one voice the others exclaimed, " We 
 will." 
 
 Mr. Robert knew what an overwhelming 
 task the constables had had to perform 
 that day, that they must be nearly worn 
 out, and that the aid of half-a-dozen able- 
 bodied men, animated by such a spirit, 
 might in an emergency be invaluable. 
 Moreover, with the exception of the senior 
 clerk, who had been with him from the 
 time he commenced business, and his man- 
 servant, they were all in the prime of 
 manhood, and as he had encouraged them 
 in daily pedestrian exercise, of which he 
 was himself extremely fond, they were, if
 
 DISTRACTION. 77 
 
 not in good training, at least in fair con- 
 dition, and all being north country men, 
 and two of them from Cumberland, they 
 often amused themselves before breakfast 
 with the gloves and wrestling in the green 
 meadow abutting on the river. Owing to 
 the spirit of disaffection which had long 
 prevailed, they, along with the clerks in 
 most of the mercantile establishments in 
 Lumechester, had been sworn in as special 
 constables, and each had his constable's staff 
 hanging at his bed-head, and they had 
 upon more than one occasion turned out 
 to help the authorities in maintaining' 
 order. 
 
 Mr. Robert pointed out to them that 
 they might be called upon to aid in 
 arresting some of the ringleaders, for he had 
 a strong suspicion that his child had been 
 carried off" by one of them as a hostage 
 for his own pardon, and he felt sure that 
 they would never be captured without a
 
 78 nature's nobility. 
 
 desperate struggle and some bloodshed. 
 They kindly but firmly requested that he 
 would not consider their safety but only 
 that of the boy, and that they were pre- 
 pared to run all risks, whatever they might 
 be. 
 
 Mr. Robert then requested them to be 
 ready at any hour of the night, that they 
 should then (it being nine o'clock) take 
 some supper, and after that lie down par- 
 tially dressed, and get all the sleep they 
 could. As they were about to leave the 
 room his habitual reserve nearly left him, 
 but the momentary impulse to shake hands 
 with each of them, a thing he had never 
 done before, was checked, and he merely 
 added, " May God reward you." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Robert, to whom her husband 
 mentioned what had taken place, so far 
 forgot her grief as to give instructions for 
 a more ample supper than usual to be 
 served in the servants' hall, where the
 
 DISTRACTION. 79 
 
 clerks, at a separate table, took all their 
 meals except dinner, which they always 
 had below the dais in the dining-room, 
 entering by a door communicating with 
 the offices, and to this she added two 
 bottles of old malt wine, for which, as well 
 as for its home-brewed ale, the house in 
 the Close was famous. The lights in the 
 upper rooms and in the hall were left 
 burning, and Mr. and Mrs. Robert sat with 
 their bedroom window open, listening to 
 every footstep in the Close in hopes that 
 it might be a messenger from the police 
 office with news of their lost child. As 
 for poor Mr. Henry he had put himself 
 away in his bed-room in a state of utter 
 despair. He openly accused himself be- 
 fore Joseph of being the most hardened 
 criminal the light ever shone upon, He 
 formed desperate resolutions to send for 
 the yellow carriage from the coach-builder's, 
 late as it was, and, hiring a pair of horses,
 
 80 natuee's nobility. 
 
 scour the country for miles round. He would 
 suddenly divest himself of his dressing- 
 gown, and, overlooking altogether the snuff- 
 coloured coat, array himself in his capacious 
 overcoat, and forgetting his nightcap, which 
 he had put on with the intention of get- 
 ting into bed, and that he was only in 
 his slippers, declare himself ready to pro- 
 ceed there and then in the search. 
 
 Joseph had never seen his master so 
 excited before, and creeping below expressed 
 his fears to Mrs. Robert that he would lose 
 his head. Mrs. Robert thought it best to 
 leave his overwrought feelings to work 
 themselves out, and as he refused all solid 
 food, she got him to consent to have a 
 basin of sago gruel sent to his room, to 
 which she added a good allowance of port 
 wine, . and slipping in also, unknown to 
 Joseph, a strong sedative, the old gentle- 
 man partook of it with considerable relish, 
 and feeling very drowsy immediately after-
 
 DISTRACTION. 81 
 
 wards, Joseph undressed him, and assisted 
 him into bed, when he fell into a sound 
 sleep. 
 
 The household at the Close did not retire 
 to rest until long after midnight. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Robert had spent the greater part of 
 the evening in seclusion, helping each 
 other to bear the sad affliction, and pour- 
 ing out their hearts to God in humble 
 supplication that it would please him at 
 his own good time to restore to them 
 their beloved child. They had great hopes 
 that the intelligence and perseverance of 
 the constables, stimulated by the handsome 
 reward offered, would enable them to find 
 a clue to where he was. 
 
 vol. I.
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 A HIDING PLACE. 
 
 The town of Drawbridge was about 
 eight miles from Lumechester, in a north- 
 erly direction. Its only trade was cotton 
 spinning ; its population consisted of fac- 
 tory hands, overlookers, and the men 
 usually self-made, and in many cases origin- 
 ally hands or overlookers in factories, who 
 formed the aristocracy of the place and 
 owners of the mills. These millowners 
 were men of uncouth manners and uncul- 
 tivated tastes; money was their mammon, 
 and to gain this they were by no means 
 particular as to the means. They prided 
 themselves on speaking the Lancashire
 
 A HIDING PLACE. 83 
 
 dialect, and regarded any who spoke the 
 English of good society as " finikin fel- 
 lows." They mixed on familiar terms 
 with their workmen, and were not at all 
 unwilling to settle any dispute by an ap- 
 peal to the fist. They were most of them 
 men of exceptionally large wealth ; they 
 built big houses, filled them with fine fur- 
 niture, and frequently with fine pictures, 
 and yet lived in their kitchens. Their 
 carriages, which came out on state occasions 
 only, were of the most expensive build, 
 and their horses as good as money could 
 buy. They clothed their wives and daugh- 
 ters in the most expensive silks which the 
 looms of Macclesfield could furnish, silks 
 which would stand up self-supporting. 
 When they did give dinners, the tables 
 groaned under huge rounds of beef and 
 saddles of mutton ; no money was too much 
 to pay for their wines ; the guests could 
 not stay too long. It was not at all un-
 
 84 natuee's nobility. 
 
 usual for many of the guests to be at the 
 breakfast table the following morning, and 
 it had even occurred that a veteran toper 
 had been found there on the third day. 
 
 When trade was brisk the looms at Draw- 
 bridge worked day and night, as indeed was 
 the practice of the neighbourhood gene- 
 rally, Lumechester included. The overworked 
 population, though they made large wages, 
 were but little better off, owing to their 
 improvident habits, than if they had worked 
 the number of hours only which the human 
 frame could bear without injury. This over- 
 working was especially hard upon children, 
 who were not then protected by the law. 
 A large family was a mine of wealth to 
 the factory operative, who, if he did not 
 want his children to assist at his own looms, 
 hired them out to those who did, and his 
 aggregate earnings would amount to a large 
 sum. Females, as well as males, were a 
 source of income.
 
 A HIDING PLACE. 85 
 
 In a, cottage, one of a long low range 
 of dwellings which a millowner had put up 
 as residences for his workpeople, lived 
 Richard Basford, a man about 40 years of 
 age. He was a man of tall and powerful 
 frame, with a large forehead and intellec- 
 tual face, and a mouth and jaw indicative 
 of great resolution. His hair was iron grey, 
 as if cares and anxieties had already begun 
 to impress their stamp upon him. His 
 wife, about the same age, was a masculine- 
 looking woman, and nearly as tall as him- 
 self. 
 
 They were then childless, a boy who had 
 reached the age of five sickened and died, 
 and the neighbours said that Dick Basford 
 and his wife had never been the same 
 since. He was a sober steady man, and 
 had early in life joined the Primitive 
 Methodists, and soon became known for his 
 rough and fervid eloquence, when, in the 
 little low building in which the congre-
 
 86 natuke's nobility. 
 
 gation met, he at times conducted the ser- 
 vice. He worked in the mill of one of 
 the large manufacturers ; but a distant re- 
 lative having died shortly after the death 
 of his little boy, leaving him a small com- 
 petence, and seeing no prospect of other 
 children, he gave up work. He was a 
 great admirer of the writings of Mr. Cob- 
 bett ; he admired his manliness, his terse 
 and vigorous language, and his untiring 
 advocacy of the rights of the working 
 man. 
 
 Being independent of the smiles and 
 frowns of the millowners, he expressed 
 his opinions freely both in public and in 
 private, and, moreover, distributed in the 
 town and neighbourhood tracts, drawing 
 the attention of the working-men to their 
 down-trodden condition and want of poli- 
 tical privileges, so that in time he began 
 to be looked upon as a troublesome fellow. 
 He was not long in finding this out, and
 
 A HIDING PLACE. 87 
 
 repaid the dislike of the manufacturers on 
 every occasion that he could. So long as 
 work was plentiful and wages high Richard 
 Basford's influence was small, but when 
 discontent became rife he was looked upon 
 by the operatives as their friend and guide. 
 In 1807 the Habeas Corpus Act was sus- 
 pended in consequence of riots in many 
 parts of England, and Eichard Basford was 
 arrested in his own house and carried off 
 a prisoner to the gaol at Lumech ester, and 
 stood for trial at the Assizes for using 
 seditious language. His wife obtained per- 
 mission to visit him in his cell, and the 
 attention of his gaoler being called off by 
 a disturbance among the prisoners, of 
 whom there was a large number, and 
 omitting to lock the cell door, Basford 
 instantly, at his wife's suggestion, changed 
 clothes with her, and the gaoler on his 
 return meeting, as he thought, Basford's 
 wife in the passage, locked the cell door,
 
 88 natuke's mobility. 
 
 and did not discover until the following 
 morning that the occupant of the cell was 
 the wife and not Basford himself. The 
 latter took refuge amongst the hills on 
 the borders of Lancashire and Yorkshire, 
 until the vengeance of the authorities had 
 been appeased by the trial and execution 
 of several of the offenders, when Basford 
 returned to his house at Drawbridge. 
 
 His clever escape had raised him and his 
 wife to the height of popularity amongst 
 the workpeople of the town, and smarting 
 under the treatment he had received, he 
 became a ready instrument in the hands of 
 the demagogues, who had no difficulty in 
 enlisting him as the leader of the contin- 
 gent to march to Lumechester from Draw- 
 bridge on the 16th August. 
 
 The day was hot, and Basford, at the 
 head of his men, feeling the effect of the 
 heat took off his coat and threw it over 
 his shoulder, and on mounting the platform
 
 A HIDING PL.X'E. 89 
 
 at Lumechester preferred being without it, 
 as indeed were many others of the intended 
 speakers. 
 
 On the Yeomanry cutting their way 
 through the mob to the platform, killing 
 four and wounding over forty, Basford jumped 
 from the waggon and joined his wife, who 
 had marched with him, and stood close to 
 the platform. In the fall he lost his coat ; 
 the two, helping to support each other in 
 the frightful rush which took place, found 
 themselves in that part of the mob which 
 surged up Mornington-street to the point 
 where Mr. Henry and Lawrie stood, when,- 
 seeing an "aristocrat" with an elegantly 
 dressed boy in his arms, he snatched away 
 the latter under a sudden impression that 
 he might make him useful, and bidding 
 his wife take off her shawl, snatched a 
 paper cap from the head of a little factory 
 boy, and taking off Lawrie's nice straw 
 hat, put on the cap, and wrapped the shawl
 
 90 nature's nobility. 
 
 over the boy so as to conceal his long curls, 
 and giving him to his wife (all done in an 
 instant) they mingled in the mass rushing 
 down the High-street. On reaching the 
 bottom of that street, where four openings 
 presented themselves, Basforcl and his wife 
 took the one forming a continuation of 
 High-street, and then turning to the right 
 into a street called Wellgate, entered a 
 narrow passage leading into a court, into 
 one of the houses of which they went, 
 fastening the door after them. 
 
 The street into which the passage opened 
 was one of the old streets in the vicinity 
 of the Cathedral which we have described, 
 and the house which Basford and his wife 
 went into was a large old-fashioned man- 
 sion after the style of those in the Close, 
 but it bore a dilapidated look, many of the 
 window panes were broken and the space 
 filled up with brown paper. The rooms were 
 let off in separate holdings to factory hands.
 
 A HIDING PLACE. 91 
 
 The room in which Basford and his wife 
 had taken refuge was a large apartment, 
 which had apparently been used as a dining 
 room in former days. The tenant was a 
 Drawbridge man, had been in the mob, and 
 being thrown in contact with many Draw- 
 bridge people, had asked them before the 
 attack by the Yeomanry to come to his 
 room after the meeting. He had fallen in 
 with Basford's views at Drawbridge, and 
 had been drawn into the circle of discon- 
 tent so much that he knew most of the 
 leaders, and they considered him a safe 
 man, and several of them had, before Bas-' 
 ford and his wife came in, sought shelter 
 in the apartment, so that there were not 
 less than some twenty persons in the room. 
 There was general delight expressed at see- 
 ing them, and strong grasps by strong men 
 of strong hands followed. 
 
 Those who knew Mrs. Basford, and that 
 she had no family, wondered what she had
 
 92 natuee's nobility. 
 
 under her shawl, and wondered still more 
 when she uncovered little Lawrie and made 
 him stand up on the table. 
 
 His beautiful face, pale with weeping, 
 his long curls, his velvet coat and vest, 
 and his look of high birth took them quite 
 by surprise, and they crowded round the 
 trembling little boy expressing their admi- 
 ration. In a few words Basford told them 
 how he had obtained possession of him ; this 
 he did with many bitter expressions about 
 " greedy landowners," and " bloated capi- 
 talists," and wound up by saying that he 
 (Lawrie) should be a pledge for the safety 
 of every man and woman present. 
 
 Poor little Lawrie looked from face to face 
 to catch one kindly look and failed to do so, 
 for the words of Basford had struck into 
 their hearts, and they looked like priests 
 awaiting the sacrifice, and throwing him- 
 self on Mrs. Basford's neck he promised her 
 such a many nice apples, " oh, so many,"
 
 A HIDING PLACE. 93 
 
 extending his little hands to indicate the 
 extent of his generosity, if she would take 
 him home to his dear mamma. That ap- 
 peal went straight to Mrs. Basford's heart ; 
 she thought of her little boy just the age 
 of Lawrie. What would have been her feel- 
 ings had he been taken from her. 
 
 " Give me the child," shouted a factory 
 hand, a man about thirty, " my missus has 
 no children and he'll just do for my loom. 
 I'll cut off the long curls, and no one 
 will know him again, and his velvet will 
 make a nice trimming for my missus's 
 dress," and with that he reached over his 
 dirty hands to seize the shrinking boy. 
 
 " Hold off, I tell thee," said Mrs. Bas- 
 ford. "The boy is not for such as thee, 
 and if thou touch him I'll squeeze thy 
 neck for thee." 
 
 Mrs. Basford wrapped up her little charge 
 again in the shawl, and, leaving her husband 
 and all the others, took him to a room at
 
 94 natuke's nobility. 
 
 the top of the house which was unoccupied, 
 and, begging some bread and milk, fed the 
 little fellow, and then taking him in her 
 strong arms rocked him to sleep. Child- 
 hood's grief is no match for the god 
 Somnus. 
 
 Basford stayed below; the assemblage 
 there could not go to their homes that 
 night, and they resolved to make merry. 
 Silver was plentifully showered on the table? 
 and two of their number were deputed to 
 fetch some gallons of ale. Whatever may 
 have been the vices of the day, frequenting 
 the ginshop was not one. Ale, that honoured 
 British wine, was the draught of the Bri- 
 tish workmen. The taverns brewed their 
 own ale, and adulteration was almost un- 
 known. The deputies went to the Red 
 Dragon, and returned with the foaming 
 and sparkling fluid — clear as crystal and 
 honest as steel. The tankard went merrily 
 round : all drank save Richard Basford,
 
 A HIDING PLACE. 95 
 
 who passed it, but in no pharasaical spirit, 
 simply saying that he liked it, but it did 
 not suit him. Then there was a call for 
 a song. It was not long before this was 
 answered, for in Lancashire at that time 
 part singing was a general accomplish- 
 ment. In any road side inn an offer of 
 glasses round for a song was pretty sure 
 to be responded to in correct time and 
 tune. In the mills singing was encouraged, 
 and more than one celebrated cantatrice 
 has been taken from the loom to distin- 
 guish herself in public. On this occasion 
 a young mill hand with a fine soprano 
 voice sang the first verse of the follow- 
 ing song, a contralto the second, and a 
 tenor the third, a fine bass lifted up the 
 chorus : — 
 
 Hurrah for the shuttle and loom, 
 • For the glare of the merry gas light, 
 We ne'er feel the evil of gloom. 
 Oar day is the middle of night.
 
 96 nature's nobility. 
 
 Chorus — We spin out our life 
 
 Free from envy and strife ; 
 Dull care no pleasure can blight. 
 
 Hurrah for the dwelling so warm ; 
 The wind goes whistling past, 
 Whilst others crouch under the storm 
 We laugh at the pitiless blast. 
 Chorus — We sneer at the wind 
 
 Which others may blind, 
 
 When dark clouds the sky overcast. 
 
 Hurrah for the beautiful thread, 
 As it rushes so white through the hand, 
 Spin it thin and 'twill easily spread 
 O'er many a nobleman's land. 
 Chorus — The coils that we wind, 
 In their grasp shall bind 
 Each tyrant with strongest band. 
 
 Hurrah for the murmuring sound 
 Of the Giant we none of us fear ; 
 Not even the waterfall's bound 
 So soothingly sweet to the ear. 
 Chorus — Then hurrah for the life 
 
 Without envy or strife ; 
 
 And hurrah for its merry cheer.
 
 A HIDING PLACE. 97 
 
 The night was now well advanced, and 
 each one picking out, as the sailors say, a 
 soft plank, nestled down on the hard boards 
 for the night, with the single exception of 
 Richard Basford. 
 
 He felt an inward consciousness of danger 
 near, and having lived for so many years 
 a life of turmoil and suspicion, he cared 
 not for death ; but he determined, if neces- 
 sary, to sell his life dearly. Seated on a form 
 which was placed against the wall, he slept 
 a kind of dog sleep until morning broke. 
 
 When Mrs. Basford got into the bed 
 where Lawrie lay in the sweet sleep of' 
 childhood, she took him into her arms as 
 she had been wont to take her own boy, and 
 seizing the idea first suggested by the mill 
 hand whom she had rebuffed, she formed 
 the plan of adopting him as her own, taking 
 him to Drawbridge if she could do so 
 without fear of discovery, otherwise seeking 
 some retreat in the mountain ranges of 
 
 vol. I. H
 
 98 natuee's nobility. 
 
 Lancashire or Yorkshire. In maturing her 
 plans she fell asleep. 
 
 About four o'clock in the morning, when 
 the sun was just topping the horizon, she 
 felt a little hand creeping over her cheek, 
 and then saw an astonished little face gaz- 
 ing at her. 
 
 " It isn't nurse," exclaimed little Lawrie, 
 who then burst into a fit of crying. 
 
 " Do take me to mamma," he sobbed, 
 putting his little arms round her neck; "oh, 
 she'll give you such a many beautiful 
 apples."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A DETECTIVE. 
 
 Me. Eobeet and his wife stayed up until 
 the morning broke ; they had listened 
 for the hoped-for messenger until their 
 hearts sank within them, and Mrs. Robert, 
 closing the bedroom window with a deep 
 drawn sigh, entreated her husband to seek 
 some sleep. 
 
 " I am not tired, dearest," said she, " but 
 you must be, and you know you have your 
 business to attend to, and that cannot be 
 neglected; one loss should not be allowed 
 to create another," and after much persua- 
 sion he lay down, she, half dressed, lying 
 by his side, ready to start up at a moment's 
 notice.
 
 100 nature's nobility. 
 
 The voice of old Tombs sounded grat- 
 ingly on her ear. She never thought his 
 tones so discordant before ; but at last, over- 
 come by fatigue and anxiety she fell asleep. 
 She dreamed that little Lawrie, in his 
 velvet coat and vest and white drawers, 
 was sitting on her knee, and telling all he 
 knew about Jonah in the whale's belly, and 
 she awoke to the bitter reality and never 
 closed her eyes again ; for the sun was shin- 
 ing brightly, and the sparrows in the Close 
 were chirping, and the carts of Lumeches- 
 ter were beginning their rumble, and 
 another day's life was beginning. She rose, 
 leaving her husband asleep, and dressed, 
 and her careful toilet was scarcely com- 
 pleted when she heard a knock at the hall 
 door, and, hoping that some tidings of Lawrie 
 had at last arrived, bounded down stairs 
 and opened it herself, when who should 
 present himself but old Tombs. 
 
 On the previous night, old Tombs had, as
 
 A DETECTIVE. 101 
 
 usual, entered upon his duties, duly arrayed 
 in a heavy overcoat, his head protected by the 
 woollen night cap and broad-brimmed hat, 
 and with his dog and lantern. His beat ex- 
 tended beyond the Close, and comprised 
 the street called Wellgate, into which the 
 passage to the house where Basford and 
 his wife had taken refuge opened, and 
 about three o'clock in the morning he met 
 a " late bird," who accosted him : — 
 
 " Hilloh ! you lazy old scamp — what's the 
 clock r 
 
 Now, Tombs prided himself on his official 
 position — and it was impossible that he 
 could permit such a very improper obser- 
 vation to pass without a retort. So he 
 stopped and replied : — 
 
 "You'd better step across to this here 
 side of the street and I'll shew you the 
 clock at our police office." (Tombs's 
 valour was tempered with discretion.) 
 Whilst he stopped his dog picked up
 
 102 natuke's nobility. 
 
 something with his mouth, which Tombs 
 seeing, said, — 
 
 "Well, Tray, what hast thou got — a 
 dead rat, hey 1 " 
 
 Eeaching down he took it out of the 
 dog's mouth, and, holding it to his lantern, 
 said : — "Why, if it be-ant a glove, and a 
 very little un too — and it's silk " — and 
 examining it further, he saw " Lawrie " 
 worked in red silk at the wrist. 
 
 Now old Tombs had heard of the 
 loss of little Lawrie, who was quite a friend 
 of his, and, stupid as the old man usually 
 was, he was quick enough on this occasion, 
 for he at once made up his mind that it 
 was little Lawrie's glove — and taking out 
 of his pocket a piece of chalk with which 
 he kept his score at the back of the door 
 of the Red Dragon, he made a cross on the 
 wall opposite the place where he picked 
 up the glove. 
 
 When Mrs. Eobert opened the door
 
 A DETECTIVE. 103 
 
 in answer to Tombs's knock she was still 
 smarting under the infliction caused 
 by Tombs's hoarse voice, and did not 
 receive him very graciously, though she 
 was habitually kind to the old man, and 
 often, especially in winter, gave him a half- 
 crown and a good supper. 
 
 " What is it, Tombs ? " she said, with 
 as much asperity as her gentle nature per- 
 mitted ; " you should be off your beat and 
 in bed by this time." 
 
 " Why, Marm," said Tombs, touching his 
 hat, " I thought I would-na go off me beat 
 till I'd brought here this little glove." 
 
 " Glove ! " said Mrs. Robert, " why, it is 
 dear little Lawrie's," and her face went 
 alternately bright red and deadly pale. 
 " Come in, Tombs," said she, which he did, 
 leaving his dog outside. 
 
 Then Tombs had to tell when and 
 where he found the glove, and tak- 
 ing out his chalk he made on the bright
 
 104 nature's nobility. 
 
 dining-room table a fac simile of the 
 mark he had left on the wall in the 
 Wellgate. 
 
 Mrs. Robert rang the bell, and 
 ordered the servant to bring a cup of hot 
 coffee, to which, with her own hands, she 
 added a wineglassful of the liquid Tombs 
 dearly loved, old Jamaica rum ; and when 
 he had finished, she told Tombs to go at 
 once to the police office and inquire for 
 the Chief- Constable, and if he was there 
 give the glove to him, and tell how, when, 
 and where he found it, and if he was 
 not there, to hand it over to the constable 
 on duty and take his receipt for it, the 
 form of which she drew up. It was then 
 only six o'clock, and her joy was so great 
 at having only seen Lawrie's little glove 
 that she was almost tempted to awaken 
 her husband, but on second thoughts she 
 determined to let him sleep on. 
 
 Old Tombs, mightily refreshed with the
 
 A DETECTIVE. 105 
 
 coffee and rum, and followed by his dog, made 
 haste to deposit his treasure-trove at the 
 police office. On his arrival the Chief 
 was not there, but the Deputy Chief-Con- 
 stable was. 
 
 "Well, old Tombs," said the latter, 
 " what's up, that you are not gone to bed." 
 
 " This is what's up," said Tombs, 
 producing the little glove. " It's Master 
 Lawrie de Noel's," and proceeded to state 
 the history of the finding, and the exact 
 spot where it was picked up. 
 
 Whew ! — whistled the Deputy, and 
 calling out " Green ! here's nuts to crack," 
 was answered by the same constable as 
 appeared when Mr. Robert's clerk gave 
 the letter to the Chief- Constable the 
 previous evening. 
 
 " Now, Tombs," said the Deputy, " you 
 write me a report of this at once. " 
 
 So the former sat down, and with many 
 twists of his mouth, and divers impreca-
 
 106 natuee's nobility. 
 
 tions on the pen, which before many 
 seconds had elapsed had covered his fingers 
 and the writing paper with ink, wrote as 
 follows : — 
 
 "I, Zachariah Tombs," (but "Tombs," 
 said the old man, putting down his pen 
 and gazing at the ceiling, " ain't my name ; 
 it's ' Rogers ; ' they call me Tombs because 
 my box is next the churchyard rails ; but 
 I'm paid as 'Tombs,' and so it don't sig- 
 nify," and thereupon he took up his pen 
 again and proceeded) " do by this writin, 
 under my hand, say that at nine o'clock 
 or summat loike it, past meridium on the 
 16th day of August, in this year of our 
 Lord, 1819, I entered upon my dooties of 
 swome-in constable and night watch, to 
 wich office I was appinted at a vestry 
 meeting duly conveneyed on the 0th day of 
 February, 1801, and attended by my dowg 
 Tray and the Red Dragon — wich is con- 
 veniant to call at — all quiet. My dowg Tray
 
 A DETECTIVE. 107 
 
 is a faithful creeter, and won't bite nobody 
 unless I tell him, and stopped on hearing 
 a blackguard tell me I was lasy, which I 
 denye and can prove it. I thowt he'd got 
 a dead rot, which he had'nt, becos it were 
 a gluv, and gettin out my old spektakel case 
 fun Lawrie inside. So I takes out of me 
 pocket the chalk I hev to keep score at 
 the Red Dragon, and puts a X on the wall 
 opsite where I fun the gluv. So this is all 
 at present from, 
 
 "Your humbel Servant, 
 
 "Zach: Tombs. 
 ("Should be Rogers.") 
 
 Then handing the production to the 
 Deputy, who smiled but said nothing, 
 Tombs betook himself to his home and 
 bed. 
 
 Immediately after Green had been ad- 
 dressed by his superior he told a brother 
 officer that he was going to the Red 
 Dragon, that he was not to be sent for
 
 108 natuee's nobility. 
 
 unless wanted by the Chief-Constable, and 
 that the "factory boy," a lad in the pay 
 of the police, and suiting that character, 
 was to loiter about the end of a certain 
 passage in Wellgate, near the Red Dragon, 
 and be ready on call. 
 
 Green then made his way towards the 
 Wellgate, but when he had got within 
 about fifty yards of the Red Dragon, he 
 turned into a passage to the right, and 
 after many turns reached the back door 
 of the Inn, at which he knocked, and was 
 instantly admitted, as if well known. 
 
 "Where's the landlord," he said, in a 
 tone of authority. " If he is'nt up yet, tell 
 him not to hurry, I can wait ; but I'll go 
 into the front bed-room, if unoccupied " 
 (which was the case), " and he can come 
 to me when he is ready. Let me have 
 breakfast up there — coffee and broiled 
 ham." 
 
 He then arranged the window curtain
 
 A DETECTIVE. 109 
 
 that he might, unseen from the street, have 
 a good view from the bow window, and 
 drawing an arm-chair within the recess, 
 fixed his eyes upon the passage leading 
 into the court where Basford and his wife 
 had taken refuge. 
 
 An hour had scarcely elapsed from Green 
 leaving the police office, when one of the 
 workmen sent by the authorities to remove 
 the waggon and platform from the scene 
 of the meeting the day before, brought to 
 the office a coat, which had been found 
 close to one of the wheels, and he was at 
 once taken to the Chief- Constable, who 
 had then arrived on duty. The experienced 
 officer held it up by the collar, and said, 
 in an undertone, "Too good for a common 
 workman," and then searched the pockets, 
 from one of which he drew a many-colored 
 cotton pocket-handkerchief, which he pro- 
 ceeded to examine very carefully. In one 
 comer in black cotton he found the
 
 110 nature's nobility. 
 
 initials " R. B." He coolly folded it up, 
 replaced it in the pocket, and handed the 
 coat to a constable, and then muttered to 
 himself, "I thought so." The coat, Mr. 
 Henry's description of the man in the shirt 
 sleeves, the words he used in snatching 
 the child from Mr. Henry's arms, and the 
 found glove, left no doubt on the Chief- 
 Constable's mind that the man who had 
 possession of little Lawrie was Richard 
 Basford, whom the officer well knew from 
 his having been a prisoner in the Gaol, 
 and that in all probability he was then 
 hiding in some house near where the glove 
 was found. 
 
 He then quietly considered whether he 
 should at once search the houses in that 
 vicinity (and his experience at once led 
 him to suspect the house in which Basford 
 then was), or whether he should delay that 
 step in the hope of arresting not only 
 Basford but also the other ringleaders of
 
 A DETECTIVE. Ill 
 
 the rioters. He argued that a meeting of 
 the leaders would be held that day some- 
 where in Lumechester, before the repre- 
 sentatives from London, Birmingham, Not- 
 tingham, and other large towns returned 
 home ; and where so likely a place as 
 Wellgate, where there was but little traffic 
 of any kind, and where Basford, one of 
 their most able men, and one who by the 
 loss of his coat was unable to leave the 
 house, was staying. He sent a note to 
 Green : " Basford is in Wellgate Court," 
 that was its name ; " send factory boy if 
 anything stirring — shall be ready to assist 
 —look out for the child and follow if he 
 is brought out." 
 
 At the entrance to the court there 
 was a simple looking factory boy (a 
 real factory boy) of about sixteen, whom 
 Green's experienced eye saw at once 
 was a " look-out." Shod in heavy clogs, 
 such as were then universally worn by
 
 112 nature's nobility. 
 
 factory hands, he appeared to spend his 
 time in gazing up and down the street, 
 now and then amusing himself with a 
 clog dance. Those who remember Lan- 
 cashire of that day will recollect how ex- 
 pert the hands were at the clog dance. It 
 was as clever, when well done, as the 
 drums of the Guards, hut without the 
 fifes. But Green noticed a peculiar turn 
 of the hand whenever anyone passed into 
 the court, although in each case the fac- 
 tory boy seemed intent only on a new 
 variation of his favourite dance. 
 
 A number of earnest-looking men, ap- 
 parently of the upper working class, went 
 into the passage during the day, first casting 
 furtive glances up and down the street, and 
 did not return. 
 
 When Green was at his breakfast, 
 the landlord came into his room. 
 
 " Anything wrong, Mr. Green," said he. 
 
 " Eather," said Green, who knew that he
 
 A DETECTIVE. 113 
 
 could deal frankly with the landlord. " I 
 expect to cage a dozen of those fellows 
 who caused the row yesterday. Tell me," 
 he continued, " have the people from 
 Wellgate Court sent here for anything, 
 yesterday or to-day % " 
 
 " Two men," said the landlord, " who 
 looked like Drawbridge or Boldenham 
 men, came here yesterday evening and 
 took and paid for four gallons of ale, 
 and left five shillings on the pewters, 
 which they said they would bring 
 back to-day, but they haven't; but they 
 looked honest chaps and I daresay will 
 come in before night. I don't know that 
 they came from the court, but I fancied 
 they did." 
 
 " When they come," said Green, 
 " let me know, and keep them in con- 
 versation." 
 
 About four o'clock in the afternoon the 
 two men brought the pewters to trie Red 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 natuee's nobility. 
 
 Dragon, and said they were going home, 
 and ordered a pint of ale each. 
 
 The landlord sent a message up stairs 
 to Green, and kept the men in conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 When they had finished their ale and 
 received the difference in the deposit, 
 Green, who had been eying the men from 
 behind a door, stepped forward, and saying, 
 " I want to speak to you," got at the 
 same time between them and the entrance. 
 
 " What dost want we us," said one of 
 them. 
 
 Green did not stop to argue the point, 
 but pushing one against the other, he had 
 them in the inner passage in a second, 
 and saying, "I am a constable," ordered 
 them upstairs into the bed-room which 
 he had occupied all day, and entering with 
 them locked the door. 
 
 " Now, lads," he said, " I don't want 
 you, but I want what you know, and, if
 
 A DETECTIVE. 115 
 
 you will be fair and square with me, you 
 can go home quietly to-night. You have 
 come out of Wellgate Court, haven't you % " 
 
 Now, if there be one thing which a Lan- 
 cashire workman abhors more than another, 
 it is turning on a fellow- workman, so the 
 two stood without replying. 
 
 " Come, no nonsense, " said Green, and 
 he took out two sets of handcuffs ; " you 
 either speak openly or I'll have these on 
 you in no time. Tell me, is Richard Bas- 
 ford in Wellgate Court?" 
 
 " Yes, " they both said, feeling that 
 concealment would only harm themselves 
 and not save Basford. 
 
 " Has he a gentleman's son, a little boy 
 five years old, with him % " 
 
 " Yes," was the answer. 
 
 " Now, tell me," said Green, " the names 
 of the others, " which they did, and he 
 wrote them down. 
 
 " Now, my lads," said he, " I'll take
 
 116 natuee's nobility. 
 
 your word that you won't attempt to escape ; 
 that you won't speak to anybody about 
 this ; and if you will do this you may go 
 downstairs, and sit in the back parlour, 
 and smoke your pipe and drink your glass 
 of ale, and there's a shilling for it, until I 
 let you off." 
 
 They gave their word, and Green knew 
 that he could rely upon it as much as if 
 given by the finest gentleman in England.
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 A QUACK DOCTOK. 
 
 The basin of sago gruel had given Mr. 
 Henry an excellent night's rest — for he 
 was asleep by ten o'clock, and only awoke 
 on Tombs knocking at the door, and 
 the first effort was to rub his eyes with 
 his left hand ; but on trying to raise his 
 arm he found it powerless, and the effort 
 caused a pain to shoot from his shoulder 
 to the tips of his fingers. His back, too, 
 felt so stiff and sore that he was unable to 
 lift himself up in bed, and his legs felt 
 bruised and swollen. He rang the bell, 
 and Joseph, although his toilet was in- 
 complete, at once made his appearance. 
 "Joseph," said Mr. Henry, "I can't move.
 
 118 nature's nobility. 
 
 I'm bad all over; just look at this shoulder," 
 and on turning down his nightshirt Joseph 
 exclaimed, 
 
 "Good gracious me! Why, Master, your 
 arm is as black as my hat." 
 
 And no wonder, for the old gentleman 
 had fallen with great violence into the en- 
 trance of the Crown and Cushion, and, in 
 trying to break his fall, had come down 
 with much force on the elbow of the. left 
 arm, and had evidently injured himself very 
 much. But his only thought was not to 
 add to the troubles of the household. 
 
 "Now, Joseph," he said "mind you don't 
 say a word about this to anyone. Say 
 that I am a little stiff with yesterday's walk, 
 and that I shall be all right by the middle 
 of the day. I shall be up to dinner. Give 
 my duty to Mrs. Robert, and tell her so — 
 and I dare say, Joseph, that you can 
 manage, without giving much trouble, to 
 bring me up my breakfast on a tray."
 
 A QUACK DOCTOR. 119 
 
 Mrs. Robert met Joseph coming down 
 stairs, and on the latter reporting to her 
 Mr. Henry's state she expressed the greatest 
 sorrow, and at once gave directions that 
 Mr. Henry's breakfast should be prepared, 
 and begged Joseph to assure him that it 
 was no trouble whatever, and that if he 
 did not feel better by dinner time he could 
 have that meal also sent to his room with- 
 out the least inconvenience. 
 
 Mr. Robert came down at the usual 
 hour for family prayers. He looked pale, 
 but the stern character of his face was 
 unchanged. The clerks and domestics were 
 summoned into the dining-room. During 
 the reading of a portion of the Bible, which 
 always preceded the prayers — the reading- 
 being taken by the children in turns — the 
 face of Mr. Robert maintained its usual 
 immobility, and when he said, "Let us 
 pray," there was nothing to indicate that 
 his spirit was broken. He said the words
 
 120 nature's nobility. 
 
 in his usually clear, sonorous tones, and 
 kneeling down, prayed, in a cosmopo- 
 litan spirit, for the welfare of all men, 
 and for the spread of the gospel of Christ 
 throughout all lands. Then thanking the 
 Almighty for the blessings conferred on 
 him and his family, he proceeded thus — 
 
 "Most gracious Father, who didst grant 
 thy merciful kindness to thy servant David 
 when Absalom his son was slain, do thou 
 give, I entreat thee, to me and my dear 
 partner in life, strength to bear the afflic- 
 tion thou hast dn thy wise Providence 
 visited us with, and should it be thy good 
 pleasure that we and the dear ones around 
 us whom thou hast given us should for 
 ever be severed from — " 
 
 No more word could the strong man 
 utter. 
 
 The clerks and domestics rose from their 
 knees and silently glided from the room. 
 His wife rose, and placing her hands on
 
 A QUACK DOCTOR. 121 
 
 ** 
 
 his shoulder, while their children sobbed 
 around, said, — 
 
 "Dearest partner of my life, mourn not 
 as those without hope. God will protect 
 our child. I dreamt last night that he 
 sat upon my knee, and certain I am that 
 he will be restored to our arms." 
 
 The family sat down to breakfast. Mrs. 
 Robert's words had filled each heart with 
 a prescience that little Lawrie would soon 
 take his accustomed seat there, and a sub- 
 dued cheerfulness prevailed. 
 
 Before Mr. Robert left for his place of 
 business, a note arrived from the Chief- 
 Constable in these words: "We have a 
 clue. I hope before night to restore your 
 son to you. I shall call upon you at six 
 precisely ; be sure to be in the way, your 
 assistants also." 
 
 " Did I not tell you, dearest," said Mrs. 
 Robert, " that all would be well % Go forth 
 now to your struggles with the world, and
 
 122 nature's nobility. 
 
 let no anxious thought stand between you 
 and your duty." 
 
 Immediately after her husband's depar- 
 ture Mrs. Robert sent Joseph to Mr. 
 Henry to say that she would be glad to 
 see him in his room, if he would permit 
 her to do so, for she greatly feared that 
 his injuries were more severe than he 
 allowed Joseph to admit. 
 
 This message greatly pleased Mr. Henry, 
 but as he had never had such an honour 
 paid to him before, he was greatly per- 
 turbed as to how he should receive his 
 cousin's wife. The thought suddenly struck 
 him that a night -cap was not a becoming 
 head-dress in which to receive a lady 
 visitor, and that, devoid of the concealment 
 afforded by that appendage, his unpowdered 
 hair would offer a strong contrast to the 
 same thing when powdered, and that 
 altogether he might in bed present a totally 
 different aspect to his appearance when
 
 A QUACK DOCTOR. 123 
 
 en grande tenue. " But what," after a mo- 
 ment's reflection, he said to Joseph, "does 
 it matter 1 Mrs. Robert is not a silly 
 young woman, and I don't care if she 
 does see me in my night-cap. So, Joseph, 
 tell her that I feel honoured by her kind- 
 ness, and shall be most happy to see her 
 at once." 
 
 Mrs. Robert was quite shocked to find 
 him so injured; his arm especially pre- 
 sented a terrible sight. 
 
 "Dear cousin," said she, "you really 
 must have a doctor immediately." 
 
 " A doctor ! my dear Madam, quite im- 
 possible ! — quite impossible ! " 
 
 "But why 1 ? They do good; indeed you 
 can't do without one when you are very 
 ill. I really must send for one." 
 
 " Dear Madam, pray don't. I can't see 
 him. Forgive me for saying you must not. 
 I have a horror of a doctor, and would 
 rather see a — mad dog."
 
 124 nature's nobility. 
 
 Mrs. Robert could not help laughing. 
 "But, you see," said she, "everybody else 
 has a doctor, and why should not you 1 " 
 
 " Shams ! — Impostors ! — all of them — 
 mischief makers, sly — sly, sneaking scoun- 
 drels. Forgive me, my dear Madam, but 
 I can't help it. Burglar a respectable 
 character comparatively. If ever I am ill 
 I would not mind a veterinary surgeon, 
 but a doctor — never ! " 
 
 What could be the cause ol Mr. Henry's 
 dislike'? For are not doctors admitted into 
 the confidence of all the families in the 
 kingdom — are they not especially the fa- 
 vourites of the wives, and are they not the 
 depositaries of the faults and failings of the 
 husbands, as disclosed by the partners of 
 their bosoms, and don't they listen with 
 gusto to the little stories of tiffs and 
 estrangements between those who have pro- 
 mised to love, honour, and cherish each 
 other until death them do part ; and
 
 A QUACK DOCTOE. 125 
 
 has a doctor never been known (oh, dear, 
 no; never!) to wean a wife's affections from 
 her husband — and has no doctor ever 
 been told by a high judicial authority that 
 he has acted the sneak and pandered to a 
 wife's weakness to get hold of her money 1 
 Oh, tell it not in Gath, publish it not in 
 Askelon! for is it not a vile and infamous 
 aspersion upon a body of honourable men? 
 
 But wrong and wicked as it may be 
 even to think of such things, nevertheless 
 Mr. Henry did think of such things ; and 
 nobody could convince him to the contrary 
 that the elderly maiden aunt aforesaid — ' 
 the one with whom he travelled to London 
 in the year 1740 — had been so bamboozled 
 by the daily visits and soft speeches of 
 her medical man (charged at the remark- 
 ably low rate of 3s. 6d. per visit, speech 
 included), that a goodly sum of £5,000 had 
 changed hands in a manner not the most 
 agreeable to Mr. Henry's feelings.
 
 126 nature's nobility. 
 
 After a pause, Mr. Henry said, " I'll go 
 and see the Bloomfield-road Doctor." 
 
 " What," said Mrs. Robert, " the man 
 who cures horses, and dogs, and cattle, 
 and would do so in preference to human 
 beings % " 
 
 " The very same, my dear Madam. I 
 have never seen him ; but lots of people at 
 Whicham have been to him, and - he has 
 cured them all, when your bowing, cring- 
 ing medical men could do nothing for 
 them." 
 
 But how was Mr. Henry in his bruised 
 and battered state to get to Bloomfield- 
 road^ 
 
 Mrs. Robert suddenly bethought her- 
 self of Mrs. Smyley's sedan chair, in 
 which she went about in her ministrations 
 in her husband's district. So writing a 
 hurried note to Mrs. Smyley, stating the 
 urgency of the case, and requesting 
 that her chairmen might be allowed to
 
 A QUACK DOCTOR. 127 
 
 bring the chair and take Mr. Henry to 
 Bloomfielcl-road and back, she received a 
 kind note from Mrs. Smyley, graciously 
 acceding to her request, and expressing a 
 hope that the affliction would work to the 
 spiritual welfare of Mr. Henry (whom she 
 had been in the habit of regarding as a 
 lost sheep from the fold of Christ), and 
 that he would find a copy of Dr. Smyley's 
 hymns and Dr. Smyley's sermons (7s. 6d. 
 each in cloth, 10s. in calf) in the pockets 
 of the chair, and she hoped that a care- 
 ful perusal and inward digestion of them 
 would lead to his eternal good. 
 
 To this was added a postscript that 
 either of the chairmen would take charge 
 of the money, and that having heard of 
 little Lawrie's disappearance, which she 
 considered must have been the work of 
 the Jesuits, she would call in a day or 
 two. 
 
 The chairmen brought the note and
 
 128 natuee's nobility. 
 
 the sedan chair together, and protruding 
 prominently from the pocket were the 
 aforesaid publications, which, however, 
 Mrs. Robert had the womanly tact to re- 
 move, as she knew that Mr. Henry looked 
 upon Dr. Smyley as a " Methodist," and 
 had been heard to express his contempt 
 for both Dr. Smyley's Hymns and Dr. Smy- 
 ley's Sermons. 
 
 After considerable exertion Mr. Henry 
 was ready to avail himself of the sedan 
 chair, but he could not put his left arm 
 into the sleeve of his coat, and was obliged 
 to carry it in a sling. 
 
 The chairmen had a great weight to 
 carry — very different to Mrs. Smyley's — and 
 the distance, nearly two miles, tried them, 
 but the bonhomie of Mr. Henry, and a 
 tankard of ale which he insisted on their 
 taking at a tavern on the road, quite re- 
 conciled them to the weight, and they 
 reached the Bloomfield-road doctor's at
 
 A QUACK DOCTOR. 129 
 
 about three o'clock. They found the doctor 
 examining a valuable hunter sent to him 
 to advise about, and for which he had 
 left about fifty patients, some of them in 
 great suffering, and he seemed in no hurry 
 to go back to them. 
 
 As the sedan chair entered the large 
 yard forming the approach to the doctor's 
 establishment, and in which stood every 
 imaginable kind of vehicle, from the 
 cart to the well appointed carriage, the 
 doctor looked at it, and addressing Joseph 
 said — 
 
 " What hast thou got here, man? " 
 
 Joseph replied, " It's Mr. Henry de Noel, 
 sir, a Cheshire gentleman, hurt by the 
 mob yesterday." 
 
 The doctor stepped to the chair, and 
 seeing the powdered head and superior 
 style of Mr. Henry's dress (a striking con- 
 trast to his own), took off his hat with 
 his left hand, and taking Mr. Henry's right 
 
 vol. I. k
 
 130 natuee's nobility. 
 
 with a cordial grasp, asked, in a very kind, 
 soft manner, very different to his first en- 
 quiry, what was the matter. 
 
 " Oh, come," said the doctor, "we'll soon 
 cure thee. Take my arm," and with that 
 he led Mr. Henry through a large out- 
 building crowded with patients, chiefly of 
 the labouring class, into his house, and 
 there, seating him on a couch, proceeded 
 to examine his arm. 
 
 " Here, Dick and Tom; come here, lads," 
 shouted the doctor; whereupon two stal- 
 wart assistants seized Mr. Henry, and 
 putting him as it were into a vice, the 
 doctor took the left arm and throwing it 
 up suddenly and with great force, inflicting 
 the most frightful pain, which, however, 
 Mr. Henry bore with admirable fortitude, 
 he said — 
 
 " Thou hast broken what those learned 
 doctors call the ' clavicle ;' that is, thou 
 hast splintered the cup which holds the arm
 
 A QUACK DOCTOK. 131 
 
 in its place ; but thou wilt be all right 
 with care." 
 
 The doctor then took a large roll of 
 adhesive plaster, and, commencing on the 
 top of the shoulder, carried it under the 
 elbow and some distance below, the arm 
 being all the time held so that the fingers 
 rested on the right shoulder and the arm 
 firmly thrust into the cup of the shoulder, 
 then fixing the sling so as to give addi- 
 tional support, he said, — 
 
 " Now, thoul't do ; but thou must apply 
 this red bottle — handing him a large bottle 
 — twice a day just here," pointing to where 
 the bone was broken, and, naming his fee, 
 7s. 6d., shook hands, and in a kindly, respect- 
 ful mamier, said good-bye. 
 
 Mr. Henry went back greatly relieved 
 in mind and body.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CHILDLESS BLISS. 
 
 After a plentiful fit of crying, little 
 Lawrence once more lay down and fell 
 asleep. Mrs. Basford rose early, and looking 
 at the sleeping boy, the tears standing in 
 her eyes the while, she kissed him, and 
 set to work to put things in order. The 
 room was tenanted by an old woman who 
 had seen better days, but she had gone 
 into the country to see her son, and the 
 tenant of the next room, with whom she 
 had left the key, let Mrs. Basford have it 
 for the night. The furniture was scanty, 
 but clean, and in a large cupboard in one 
 corner Mrs. Basford found the requisites
 
 CHILDLESS BLISS. 133 
 
 for a fire and simple cooking. The " next 
 room " let her have enough for her own 
 and Lawrie's breakfast, and she soon had 
 the kettle boiling, and the little table, with 
 a clean cloth, covered with the preparations 
 for the morning meal. She again went to 
 the bed and kissed Lawrie, on which he 
 awoke, and staring with wide open eyes 
 at her face cried out — 
 
 " It isn't nurse. Mamma, dear mamma, 
 do come to Lawrie." 
 
 Mrs. Basford, who had suddenly been 
 transformed from a stern masculine woman 
 into a tender-hearted mother, did her 
 best to soothe him, and so successfully, 
 that after he was dressed he stood at the 
 open window throwing crumbs of bread 
 to the sparrows, and laughing at the con- 
 tentions of that quarrelsome little breed 
 over the food. 
 
 The room was in the attics, which the 
 architect had planted like an excrescence
 
 134 natuke's nobility. 
 
 on the main roof, and round it there was 
 a space protected by a stout railing on 
 the outer side, wide enough for anyone 
 to walk about and look over the town 
 and surrounding country, and on this place 
 opened the window of the room in which 
 Lawrie was. 
 
 It was a lovely autumn morning. A 
 slight breeze in the night had carried 
 off the smoke collected over the town on 
 the previous clay, and as the factory chim- 
 neys had not yet had time to cast their 
 leaden shade the sky was clear. The 
 green fields ran up to the town on the 
 opposite side of the river, and stretched far 
 away until bounded by a range of high 
 ground, forming with the windings of the 
 river quite a pretty landscape. From the 
 roof to the river, which ran at the foot of 
 the rock on which the house stood, there 
 was a perpendicular fall of about seventy 
 feet, and Mrs. Basford drew little Lawrie
 
 CHILDLESS BLISS. 135 
 
 back with a shudder when the little fellow 
 wanted to look over the rails. 
 
 Having cleared away the breakfast things, 
 Mrs. Basford sat down, and taking knit- 
 ting materials from her pocket began to 
 knit. As soon as she was seated, Lawrie 
 went to her, and kneeling down put his 
 little hand to his face, and bending his 
 head forward, repeated the Lord's Prayer, 
 and then said, "God bless dear Papa and 
 Mamma, and all my little brothers and 
 sisters, and make me a good boy, for Jesus 
 Christ's sake. Amen." 
 
 When he rose Mrs. Basford took him' 
 on her knee, clasped him to her bosom, and 
 cried and sobbed as if her heart would break. 
 
 Immediately afterwards Basford's strong 
 voice was heard on the landing. — " Mary, 
 where art thou ? " 
 
 Little Lawrie trembling, ran to hide him- 
 self in the cupboard, and Mrs. Basford 
 replied,
 
 136 natuee's nobility. 
 
 " Here, Richard, but thou canst not 
 enter ; thou wilt frighten the boy. I will 
 come to thee in the next room." 
 
 Telling Lawrie not to be afraid, and 
 that she would be back in a minute, she 
 joined her husband in the next room, the 
 occupant and his wife having gone to their 
 work at the factory. Basford, who was very 
 much attached to his wife, said — 
 
 " Why, Mary, thou hast been crying ; 
 what's the matter. It's a long long time 
 since I saw thee cry — never since little 
 George " — 
 
 Here Basford stopped, and a convulsive 
 movement of the muscles of his face shewed 
 that an inward throe had passed through 
 his powerful frame. 
 
 He then said, in an unusually kind and 
 softened manner, " Mary, I can't stay with 
 thee — we are going to have a committee 
 meeting to-day, and that and getting ready 
 for it will take all my time ; so make thy-
 
 CHILDLESS BLISS. 137 
 
 self as happy as thou can. To-night after 
 dark we will go back to Drawbridge — but 
 I shall have to get the loan of a coat from 
 somebody. Don't let the child out of the 
 room, and if spring-heeled Jack (that was 
 the name by which the man who wanted 
 to snatch away the boy was known) should 
 come and worry you about having him, tell 
 him to go about his business." 
 
 That day was such a change for Mrs. 
 Basford. Ever since she had lost her own 
 boy she had been the constant companion 
 of her husband in all his wanderings, 
 whether it was to preach in the low dingy 
 room to a gathering of Primitive Metho- 
 dists or to speak in bold unsparing terms 
 to a meeting of workmen about " bloated 
 capitalists " and " greedy landlords," or to 
 distribute political tracts from door to door, 
 Or to sit at the bed-side of some sick work- 
 man and administer rough consolation, and 
 leave (as he often did) a gift from his own
 
 138 natuee's nobility. 
 
 small income. Whatever the hour, however 
 wild the day and rough the road, Mary 
 Basford was by her husband's side, and often 
 cheered him up when the gloom of im- 
 pending danger settled on his spirits. On 
 this day she seemed to drink in an intox- 
 icating draught of happiness. Little Lawrie 
 had got quite used to her, and he sat in 
 a little chair whilst she went on with her 
 knitting, and told her all his Bible stories, 
 especially the one about Jonah in the 
 whale's belly. 
 
 At six o'clock precisely the Chief Con- 
 stable was at the House in the Close — and 
 was shown into the drawing-room. 
 
 " I cannot disguise from you," he said 
 to Mr. Robert, whose wife was present, 
 " that I am going to lay down a plan 
 which is not without danger to those con- 
 cerned in it. We have to deal with men 
 who walk about with halters round their 
 necks, and who, unless we are so fortu-
 
 CHILDLESS BLISS. 139 
 
 nate as to take them quite unprepared, 
 will give us trouble. You will not see 
 any of us until you hear us. You, sir, 
 with your assistants, will guard the entrance 
 to Wellgate Court. Half-a-dozen resolute 
 men can stop three times their number, 
 for two cannot get out at a time, and if 
 your truncheons are what they ought to 
 be (and examining one which Mr. E-obert 
 shewed him, he said, " That will do "), you 
 ought to knock them over like nine pins 
 as they try to get out. I cannot spare 
 any more men, so you and your assistants 
 must gird up your loins. At seven o'clock 
 precisely, not a minute sooner nor a minute 
 later, be at the mouth of the passage — not 
 inside mind — two on each side and two 
 in front closing up to the side ones, have 
 your truncheons in your hands, and keep 
 your eyes and ears open, for the work will 
 then begin." 
 
 The Chief, having arranged with Green
 
 140 nature's nobility. 
 
 the plan of operations, that officer 
 saw the necessity of getting the " look- 
 out " away from his post. He had never 
 left it all day ; all his meals had been 
 brought to him by a little girl, and he 
 ate them sitting on a door-step. 
 
 Green sent word to Jem, the police 
 " factory boy," that he wanted to see him 
 at the Red Dragon. 
 
 It was almost impossible to make the 
 Lancashire workman of that period under- 
 stand you unless you spoke to him in his 
 own dialect ; so when "Jem" entered the 
 bed-room Green took him to the window 
 and showing him the "look-out," said, — 
 
 " Jem, dost thou think thou canst fettle 
 yon lad." 
 
 "Yoi," said Jem. 
 
 Now in asking the question Green ap- 
 pealed to one of Jem's strongest sympathies. 
 The Lancashire lad of that day was pro- 
 bably the most pugnacious specimen of boy-
 
 CHILDLESS BLISS. 141 
 
 hood then existing, for from his cradle he 
 was taught that supremacy in the fistic 
 battle-field was a thing to be aspired to, 
 and that he who could boast of being the 
 hero of a hundred fights was a being to be 
 envied. The mothers of these combative 
 youths were as proud of their sons on their 
 return victorious from the fight as ever was 
 Spartan mother on receiving her son's shield 
 with his dead body upon it. There is a 
 well authenticated story of a conversation 
 between a sturdy dame and her son, who 
 had been to a neighbouring town, — 
 
 "Well, BiU; where hast'a been to?", 
 
 " Oiv'e been to Boldenham.'" 
 
 "Hast thou foughten?" 
 
 " Yoi, and oiv'e broughten a bit on him 
 whoam in my pocket " (producing part of 
 an ear). 
 
 Jem had been a factory boy from five 
 years old, and as a mere child was con- 
 tinually trying his strength with those of
 
 142 nature's nobility. 
 
 his own age and even older. He was then 
 sixteen, and no one would suspect from his 
 appearance that he was the powerful lad 
 he was. 
 
 He looked slight, perhaps owing to his 
 badly-fitting jacket ; he had not apparently 
 much muscular development, and his face 
 was thin and pale. But when stripped to " the 
 buff," his fully developed chest, shoulders, 
 and arms took people by surprise. He was 
 very " handy " with his fists, and whether it 
 was " a fair stand up " or " an up and down " 
 Jem was quite at home, and he was looked 
 upon as quite a rising star in the P. R. 
 
 The police, under whose notice Jem had 
 been prominently brought in consequence 
 of his pugnacity, took a fancy to him, for 
 he was intelligent, civil, and trustworthy, 
 and, having employed him once or twice 
 in a detective capacity, he was put on the 
 list as a supernumerary, but only for spe- 
 cial occasions, and by arrangement with his
 
 CHILDLESS BLISS. 143 
 
 employer, the sensible Chief- Constable think- 
 ing that if he left off work he might lose 
 half his value. He was dressed on this 
 occasion in his usual dress as a factory boy, 
 but, instead of wearing clogs, he had on 
 strong boots with hob nails, laced up to 
 the ankle. 
 
 Green then explained to Jem that he 
 wanted the lad opposite off the spot he had 
 occupied all day, at a quarter to seven 
 exactly. That he must keep his eye on 
 the Cathedral clock, which he could see 
 from the court where he was stationed, 
 and that he must then pick a quarrel 
 with the youth, and after exchanging 
 a blow or two pretend to be afraid of his 
 opponent, and run away into the last 
 mentioned court, and when he got him 
 there he must take care he did not come 
 out again, until he, Green, signalled, even 
 if he " throttled " him a bit. 
 
 The youth opposite, who had acquired
 
 144 nature's xobility. 
 
 the name of "Clogs " from his musical 
 performances with those pedal appendages, 
 was about the same height and weight 
 as Jem, and possessed considerable pugi- 
 listic proclivities, which he had attempted 
 more than once to put in exercise during 
 the day, after he had exhausted all 
 the tunes he knew and found the time 
 passing heavily. He had a favourable op- 
 portunity when he had had his own din- 
 ner and the factory boys were returning 
 to work after theirs, and he pushed three 
 or four off the pavement into the street 
 to test their pluck. Probably if he had 
 done this on their way to dinner he would 
 have been accommodated to his heart's 
 content, but the lads, knowing that they 
 would be fined if late at the mill, took no 
 notice and passed on, and the only amuse- 
 ment he found was shying stones at stray 
 dogs, varied by occasional clog music.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A LEAP FOR LIFE. 
 
 Aftee seeing his wife, Richard Basford 
 returned to the room where the fugitives 
 from the sabres of the Yeomanry had 
 met on the previous night. Most of them, 
 feeling that they had been merely specta- 
 tors, and need not fear arrest, left in 
 good time to return home. 
 
 Basford, first throwing open the window 
 to admit the warm morning air, sat down 
 to prepare a statement of the members of 
 the Trades' Society within the Drawbridge 
 district, of which he was Honorary Secre- 
 tary and Treasurer (disdaining, unlike many 
 patriots, to receive any pay for his ser- 
 vices), and of the moneys received and paid 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 nature's nobility. 
 
 by him in his official capacity, carefully 
 arranging all vouchers, and checking his 
 receipts with the banker's pass book. 
 
 It was not until the afternoon that the 
 delegates from the different towns arrived. 
 Some bore clear evidence of their having 
 been present at the monster meeting, from 
 their heads and arms being bound up with 
 linen, and it was past three o'clock before 
 a sufficient number were present to justify 
 their proceeding to business. Richard 
 Basford was unanimously elected chairman, 
 and with that strong religious feeling which 
 pervaded him, he begged them to join 
 in prayer to the Almighty to bless their 
 efforts to raise the labouring class from 
 their slavish condition, and on this being 
 agreed to he with much judgment made a 
 short prayer to the purpose. 
 
 The events of the day before were dis- 
 cussed, the conduct of the Yeomanry was 
 commented upon with much bitterness, in-
 
 A LEAP FOE LIFE. 147 
 
 asmuch as they thought they were acting 
 in accordance with the constitutional privi- 
 lege of Englishmen to meet in public and 
 discuss their grievances ; and what especially 
 met with reprobation was the fact that if 
 the Riot Act had been read at all, it was 
 read on the outskirts of the meeting, un- 
 known to any but a few, and no notice that 
 the assemblage was deemed illegal had been 
 given by the authorities to the leaders on 
 the platform before the cavalry charged. 
 They determined that a petition should be 
 presented to Parliament complaining of the 
 illegality of the dispersion of the meeting, 
 and of the cruel manner in which it had 
 been effected . All this took a considerable 
 time, for many proposals and counter pro- 
 posals as to the form of the petition had to 
 be discussed. 
 
 Richard Basford then laid before the 
 meeting the accounts which he had pre- 
 pared in the morning, and suggested that
 
 148 natuee's nobility. 
 
 those District Secretaries and Treasurers 
 who were present should do the same as 
 regarded their own districts, very properly 
 observing that money was the sinews of 
 war, and that at so important a meeting 
 some idea should be formed of their re- 
 sources; and this was the more necessary 
 inasmuch as rumours had been flying about 
 that patriotism was another name for pec- 
 ulation, and that the sums very freely 
 contributed by the working men had been 
 spent in riotous living. This proposal 
 rather threw a " wet blanket " over the 
 meeting. Some of the Secretaries and 
 Treasurers who had been pointed out as 
 sham patriots were at the table, and there 
 seemed to be a disposition to break up the 
 meeting without coming to any conclu- 
 sion about the accounts, but Richard 
 Basford, in a clear, calm voice, said — 
 
 " Brethren, we have just agreed to a 
 petition to Parliament complaining of the
 
 A LEAP FOE LIFE. 149 
 
 acts of others ; let us who do this shew 
 that we are without blame ourselves. I 
 propose that we take each case in the 
 order in which it is represented at this 
 table. The delegate from Bolclenham, 
 who is also Secretary and Treasurer, will 
 no doubt produce his accounts, or if he 
 has not the papers he can from memory 
 probably state the amount of subscriptions." 
 The delegate from Boldenham was the 
 man who had been pointed out more than 
 any other as a defaulter in his accounts. 
 He was a big, brazen-faced man, and took 
 up the question as being a personal im- 
 putation, without the slightest cause, upon 
 himself. There were others at the table 
 whose consciences pricked them, and the 
 room became divided between honest and 
 dishonest delegates. Words of crimination 
 and recrimination were freely used ; even 
 fists were raised and violence threatened 
 until Richard Basford, despairing of calming
 
 150 natuee's nobility. 
 
 the excitement of the meeting, rose from 
 the chair, and went to cool his heated 
 brow at the open window. 
 
 Mr. Henry was fully aware of the pre- 
 parations for the recovery of little Lawrie? 
 and he was convinced in his own mind of 
 the perfect success of the plans, and so 
 enthusiastic was he in the affair that he 
 had taken possession of the truncheon set 
 apart for Joseph, and prepared to substi- 
 tute himself for that worthy if called upon 
 to serve, his injured shoulder notwithstand- 
 ing. 
 
 Mrs. Robert, however, in playful banter? 
 said she thought that he ought to have a 
 little regard for herself, and stay at home 
 to protect her, seeing that all the rest of 
 the men kind were going to the rescue. 
 Whereupon the old gentleman with a low 
 bow said that he would stay at home and 
 defend her with his life. 
 
 As seven o'clock approached his nervous
 
 A LEAP FOR LIFE. 151 
 
 excitement became very great ; he had 
 taken off his snuff- coloured coat and his 
 cravat and shoes with the great silver 
 buckles soon after dinner, and rested him- 
 self and his wonnded arm in an easy chair 
 in his bedroom, clad in his dressing gown. 
 At six o'clock he suddenly recollected 
 that little Lawrie onght to have some 
 present to greet his return. He therefore 
 sent Joseph into the town to buy the 
 most expensive rocking-horse and largest 
 child's fiddle he could find, and Joseph, 
 fully appreciating the importance of the 
 mission, had left the Close in the full- 
 determination that if he hunted the town 
 all over the gift should be worthy of the 
 occasion. The selection of a rocking-horse 
 was the instinctive idea of Mr. Henry, but 
 the choice of a fiddle was dictated by the 
 knowledge, confidently imparted to Joseph 
 by Lawrie's nurse, that a fiddle bought 
 immediately before Mr. Henry's arrival
 
 152 natuke's nobility. 
 
 had had applied to it some strong antidote 
 for the prevention of sound, in order to 
 save Mr. Henry's nerves. So when Mr. 
 Henry wanted Joseph's services to help 
 him to dress in order to receive little Law- 
 rie with due honour, Mr. Henry was 
 left to his own resources, and the con- 
 sequence was that His Most Gracious 
 Majesty King George III. was turned up- 
 side down, the laced cravat was all awry, 
 the waistcoat was inside out, the right shoe 
 was substituted for the left, and vice versa, 
 and the watch, which in his excitement he 
 wound up, was put under his pillow. 
 
 Descending into the drawing room at 
 half past six to bid " Gcd speed " to Mr. 
 Robert he stayed only a few minutes, his 
 natural delicacy forbidding him to intrude 
 himself upon those last moments which 
 he knew Mr. and Mrs. Eobert would wish 
 to have to themselves. He took Mr. Ro- 
 bert by the hand and said, —
 
 A LEAP FOR LIFE. 153 
 
 " My dear Sir, I wish my age would allow 
 me to take your place in this desperate 
 adventure. I would gladly do so, for I 
 feel that I am greatly to blame — I — I — 
 wish you fervently every success, and may 
 God bless " — He could not finish the sen- 
 tence for emotion, and kissing Mrs. Robert 
 on the forehead he retired to his room. 
 
 In a few minutes Mr. Robert would 
 have to join his clerks, who were waiting 
 for orders to start. He and his wife sat 
 hand in hand on the couch, she looking up 
 at his face with ineffable tenderness. She 
 said, — 
 
 " Robert, it is time to go ; may God pro- 
 tect you and my boy. I feel that he will." 
 And after an embrace, Mr. Robert went 
 from the house, followed by the five junior 
 clerks, and exactly as the clock struck 
 seven they were at the mouth of the pas- 
 sage leading into Wellgate Court, arranged 
 as directed by the Chief-Constable.
 
 154 natuke's nobility. 
 
 As the clock struck a quarter to seven 
 Jem emerged from the court where he 
 had been all day, and crossed the road to 
 where Clogs was performing his last tune 
 prior to going off duty. Jem walked in a 
 careless happy-go-lucky way until he came 
 up to Clogs, when he said to the latter — 
 
 " Howd thy noise, or I'll make thee," 
 to which Clogs replied defiantly, 
 
 " Not thee, or any loike thee — " 
 
 Which was immediately followed by a 
 punch in Clogs' ribs, being in fact the very 
 event for which Clogs had been longing all 
 day, and accordingly he returned the com- 
 pliment with a hearty good will. 
 
 Jem, with much judgment, appeared to 
 be afraid to repeat the blow, but did so, 
 after the exchange of a few feints, in a 
 very ineffective way, which was replied to 
 by Clogs by a well-planted blow on the 
 eye. Jem returned it by another ineffectual 
 ^low, and retreated towards the passage
 
 A LEAP FOE LIFE. 155 
 
 to his hiding place. Clogs followed him 
 up, dreaming of an easy victory, and Jem, 
 taking to his heels, rushed after him up 
 the passage into the court, when Jem at 
 once changed his tactics, and getting be- 
 tween Clogs and the exit planted a " one 
 two " in artistic style on Clogs' head, to 
 the astonishment of the latter. 
 
 Clogs forgot all about his duty and put 
 his whole soul into the encounter; blow 
 was returned for blow, and Jem was con- 
 strained to confess in his own mind that 
 Clogs was not a despicable opponent. Well 
 as Clogs fought he found that Jem fought 
 much better, so he at once turned the fight 
 into an " up and down," which meant 
 kicking, throttling, or anything else, and 
 kicked Jem, as he made a rush, violently 
 on the forehead with his clogs. Jem's 
 blood was now up ; he closed with Clogs, 
 threw him heavily, and falling on him 
 put both hands round his throat and asked
 
 156 natuke's nobility. 
 
 him if he would give in. Clogs hesitated 
 a moment, but finding Jem's hands tight- 
 ening their grasp, he said "Yes," and in 
 another moment Jem helped him to rise, 
 and shaking him by the hand gave him a 
 good lump of a celebrated sweet made in 
 the neighbourhood of Lumechester called 
 " toffy," at the same time telling him 
 that he must stay where he was a short 
 time, and to Clogs' question " Why," he 
 made no reply. 
 
 The sun was declining to the west, the 
 sparrows had gone to their unknown rest- 
 ing places for the night, and little Lawrie, 
 having no further amusement, began to 
 yawn. He had been promised during the 
 day that he should be taken to his mamma 
 that night, and Mrs. Basford found it diffi- 
 cult to satisfy him that this would be 
 the case. 
 
 About six o'clock, after having had his 
 tea, Mrs. Basford told him that if he would
 
 A LEAP FOE LIFE. 157 
 
 go to sleep he should be taken to his 
 mamma as soon as he awoke, so the little 
 fellow, thoroughly tired, went into a sound 
 slumber as soon as Mrs. Basford laid him 
 down on the bed. 
 
 The evening was hot and " stuffy," and 
 the window, which reached from the ceiling 
 to the floor and was double, was wide open. 
 Mrs. Basford commenced putting the room 
 in order, restoring the things she had used 
 to their places. She had finished her work, 
 and before she began to get herself ready 
 to go she turned to look at little Lawrie, 
 as he lay slumbering peacefully, having her 
 back to the window. 
 
 A tall, powerful man, in stockings only, 
 sprang noiselessly through the open window, 
 seized Mrs. Basford at the back of her neck 
 with his right hand, at the same time 
 thrusting a gag into her mouth with his 
 left ; three others followed also in their 
 stockings only, one slipped on the handcuffs,
 
 158 natuee's nobility. 
 
 another took her head, and a third her 
 feet, and lifting her up, put her gently 
 across the foot of the bed, and in an in- 
 stant had her firmly bound by ropes to the 
 bed posts. 
 
 Green, for it was he who sprang first 
 into the room, went to the door, and, turn- 
 ing the key gently, let out his companions 
 and then locked the door on the outside, 
 and put the key into his pocket. They 
 met no one on the stairs, for the lodgers 
 were nearly all out seeking fresh air, and 
 they got to the door of the room where 
 the delegates were shouting and shrieking 
 at each other. Two of them put their 
 broad shoulders to the door and burst it in. 
 
 "Surrender," cried Green. 
 
 Eichard Basford heard the crash, he knew 
 the cause, he poised himself for a moment 
 with his hands on the window sill and then 
 let go. He struck first against a tree 
 growing out of a crevice of the rock, a
 
 A LEAP FOR LIFE. 159 
 
 branch of which he caught, but after hold- 
 ing him a few seconds it gave way, landing 
 him for an instant on his feet on a projecting 
 ledge of rock, from which he fell head- 
 long into the river. A day or two before 
 there had been a heavy thunderstorm, and 
 the rain, which had fallen in torrents, had 
 raised the height of the water considerably. 
 It was then subsiding, but a much greater 
 body of water than usual was still in the 
 river, and he escaped the danger of falling 
 into shallow water, and being a powerful 
 swimmer struck off down the stream. 
 
 The sudden appearance of the constables 
 petrified the delegates, and the officers 
 speedily and without the least shew of resist- 
 ance, handcuffed them in three threes and a 
 two. 
 
 Green, leaving his companions in charge, 
 opened the street door, which was locked, and 
 going to the mouth of the passage, said to 
 Mr. Robert, "All right, Sir," and then salut-
 
 160 nature's nobility. 
 
 ing the Chief, who had ridden up on horse- 
 back, said, " Eleven, Sir; one escaped through 
 the window and leapt into the river." 
 
 "Which," said the Chief. 
 
 " Basford," replied Green. 
 
 A look of disappointment came over the 
 Chiefs face, and he muttered, "Confound 
 him! the best bag of all lost. He must 
 be the devil himself to take such a leap. 
 Have you taken that soldier fellow ?" 
 
 "No, Sir," said Green, "he was not there." 
 
 It was fortunate for the constables that 
 the "soldier fellow" was not there, for if he 
 had been the evening's proceedings might 
 have had a different result. 
 
 Green then turned to Mr.Robert, and said, 
 "Your boy is safe, Sir ; you will find him 
 in the attic ; the room door faces the 
 stairs. Here is the key. Basford's wife 
 is tied to the bedposts. Don't loosen her. 
 I must speak to my Chief first about her. 
 Go upstairs gently and unlock the door
 
 A LEAP FOR LIFE. 161 
 
 quietly, or you may frighten the boy. I left 
 him fast asleep. You must be so good as 
 to let me have two of your people, there 
 are only four of us. Take two of the others 
 yourself, and you had better send the re- 
 maining one to tell Mrs. de Noel." 
 
 Beckoning to the landlord of the Red 
 Dragon, who stood on his steps, he told 
 him to inform the two men in the back 
 parlour that they might go home. Then 
 returning to the room where the delegates 
 were in custody, he ordered two of his 
 men and Mr. Robert's clerks to handcuff 
 themselves to the four batches of prisoners, 
 one to each batch, and then gave orders to 
 march. 
 
 Green and another constable led the 
 way, the prisoners followed, and the Chief 
 on horseback brought up the rear. Before 
 marching Green told Mr. Robert that he 
 might release Basford's wife. 
 
 Jem and Clogs had had half-an-hour's 
 
 vol. I. M
 
 162 natuee's nobility. 
 
 friendly conversation together. Jem got 
 to know from Clogs where he lived, but 
 to the same question about himself said 
 nothing. 
 
 He told Clogs he had a good deal to 
 learn, and offered to give him some day a 
 lesson in boxing. As Green passed the 
 passage leading to the scene of the late 
 passage at arms he blew a shrill whistle. 
 Jem shook hands again with Clogs, and 
 running into the street followed the pro- 
 cession, as if he had not taken any part 
 in the proceedings. 
 
 Mr. Eobert mounted the stairs immediately 
 on receiving the key from Green. He noise- 
 lessly unlocked the door, and there lay 
 Lawrie still wrapt in childhood's slumber. 
 Mrs. Basford was in a swoon, and the ap- 
 pearance of the bed shewed that she had 
 not moved a limb after being fastened 
 down by the constables. 
 
 Mr. Robert took up his little boy, and,
 
 A LEAP FOR LIFE. 163 
 
 murmuring a prayer of thanksgiving over 
 his still sleeping form, descended the 
 stairs, and it was not until he had gained 
 the court that Lawrie opened his eyes. 
 The little fellow stared wildly about him. 
 In an instant recognising his father, 
 he threw his arms round his neck and 
 said, — 
 
 " Oh, dear Papa ; oh, dear Papa, where 
 is Mamma I " 
 
 Before leaving the room in the attic Mr. 
 Robert gave directions to the two clerks to 
 release Mrs. Basford. This they did, but 
 it was not until they had bathed her face 
 with, cold water that she recovered con- 
 sciousness. She sat upright on the edge 
 of the bed, and looked wildly round her, 
 and then, turning to the pillow where she 
 had laid little Lawrie down, she put her 
 hand to her forehead and said mournfully, 
 " No ; it was not to be." Then she asked 
 after her husband ; she seemed to know
 
 164 nature's nobility. 
 
 by intuition that the constables had been 
 in the house, and being told that he had 
 escaped, she said, " Thank God." 
 
 The two clerks then left her to herself.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A SUPPER PARTY. 
 
 Great was the excitement when Lawrie 
 reached the Close. 
 
 Mrs. Robert stood on the steps and 
 clasped him in her arms ; his brothers and 
 sisters crowded round him, kissing him over 
 and over again ; the servants stood in the 
 back ground, the females weeping with 
 
 joy- 
 Mr. Henry felt that the hall was not 
 
 wide enough for his overflowing feelings and 
 
 remained in the dining room, where he had 
 
 ample range for his emotions, and when 
 
 Mrs. Robert entered the room with Lawrie 
 
 in her arms he kissed him, exclaiming, — 
 
 " My dear little boy ; yes, dear Madam,
 
 166 natuee's nobility. 
 
 I was wretch enough,— oh, how delighted 
 I am " — not being able to finish one sentence 
 by reason of the crowding of the next 
 upon it. He had had the fiddle and 
 rocking-horse brought into the room, and 
 seizing the former, and putting out the 
 right foot as if about to dance, he extracted 
 a jig tune from it ; then laying it down, 
 he put the rocking-horse in motion, and 
 made Joseph get astride it to shew off its 
 wonderful properties. 
 
 It was not until then that Mrs. Robert 
 discovered the derangement of his apparel, 
 and, laughing heartily, she said, — 
 
 " Cousin, your waistcoat is inside out." 
 
 " Oh , my dear Madam, what does it 
 matter I It's a wonder I put it on at all." 
 
 He then became aware of the liberty he 
 had taken with King George the Third, 
 and the exchange of shoes, and made many 
 apologies to Mrs. Robert for infringing the 
 proprieties of society, on which she gave
 
 A SUPPER PARTY. 167 
 
 his good honest cheek a kiss and, smiling, 
 said she entirely forgave hirn. 
 
 The servants had not had an opportu- 
 nity of greeting Lawrie on his return. So 
 Mrs. Robert had the celebrated malt wine 
 put on the table with cake, and told the 
 servants to come in one at a time. 
 
 Lawrie's old nurse, who had been over 
 30 years in the family, entered first ; Lawrie 
 ran to her and kissed her over and over 
 again. She then went to the sideboard 
 and helped herself, at Mrs. Robert's re- 
 quest, to cake and wine. Taking the 
 glass in her hand and making a curtsey, 
 she said, — 
 
 " My humble respects to the family and 
 my love to Master Lawrie," and then gave 
 place to the other female domestics, who 
 went through the same ceremony. 
 
 Mr. Robert's man-servant followed next, 
 an old servitor who, like his master, said 
 but little ; he pulled his forelock and said
 
 168 natuee's nobility. 
 
 that he would serve his master to his 
 dying clay, and was as glad to see Master 
 Lawrie back as if he had got the fortune. 
 This referred to a claim which he had 
 put in as heir-at-law to a mythical 
 personage who had died nearly a hun- 
 dred years before, leaving vast estates 
 to his next of kin and innumerable 
 claimants. 
 
 Then entered Joseph, and Mr. Henry 
 appealed to him in feeling terms to tell 
 the assembled company whether he had 
 not accused himself of being the author 
 of all the trouble, and whether he had 
 not offered to scour the country hi the 
 yellow carriage, to all of which Joseph gave 
 an emphatic assent, and wound up by 
 imbibing, by mistake of course, some 
 fine " old Jamaica," instead of the malt 
 wine. 
 
 As to the clerks, Mrs. Eobert's kind 
 heart had provided for their having a
 
 A SUPPEE PAETY. 169 
 
 share in the festivities of the occasion. 
 She, feeling sure of Lawrie's return, had 
 given directions for an excellent supper, 
 and they were invited to share this in the 
 dining-room instead of at their usual 
 separate table in the servants' hall. 
 
 All the children except " Baby " were 
 to be of the party, and little Lawrie, 
 refreshed with his evening sleep, and highly 
 delighted with his rocking-horse and fiddle, 
 was quite sure that he could keep 
 awake. 
 
 Mr. Henry, now fully conscious of his 
 shortcomings in regard to his attire, had 
 called Joseph to assist in the restoration 
 of the outward man. The lace cravat 
 was again neatly tied, George III. no 
 longer appeared to be standing on his head, 
 the waistcoat was turned right side out, 
 the shoes fitted to their respective partners, 
 and the fine old head underwent a second 
 edition of powder ; but he complained that
 
 170 natuee's nobility. 
 
 Joseph let fall a good deal down his neck, 
 and that he was not as steady in his 
 movements as usual. 
 
 The watch could not be found and Mr. 
 Henry could give no account of it. Joseph 
 searched all over the room, going down 
 on his hands and knees ; at last a happy 
 thought struck him, and he looked under 
 the pillow, from which he drew the miss- 
 ing article ; but it was not going, the 
 spring had been broken by overwinding. 
 
 At nine o'clock the supper was served. 
 
 Mr. Robert relaxed the sternness of his 
 features. Mrs. Robert's sweet smile was 
 more radiant than ever. All the children 
 were in high spirits, and the sound of 
 gentle laughter even floated from the clerks' 
 table. 
 
 Little Lawrie was the guest of the even- 
 ing. 
 
 Some fine old Madeira was substituted 
 for the malt wine, and Mr. Henry, when
 
 A SUPPER PARTY. 171 
 
 calling upon all to fill their glasses, insisted 
 upon half filling Master Lawrie's glass. 
 Eising from his chair, he turned to Mr. 
 and Mrs. Robert, and said, — 
 
 " My clear cousins, Ladies and Gentle- 
 men : It is my pleasing duty to propose 
 trie toast of the evening. I feel sure that 
 you will all anticipate it ; it is that of my 
 dear little godson, who has been merci- 
 fully rescued from the hands of those in- 
 fernal Eadicals. Let us hope that he will 
 live long to serve God and honour the King, 
 and that he will possess all the graces of 
 his father and all the manly virtues of his 
 mother." 
 
 Mrs. Robert laughed one of her gentle 
 laughs, and Mr. Robert actually smiled, 
 and the clerks had some difficulty in re- 
 straining their merriment within the 
 bounds of propriety. 
 
 " I beg pardon, my dear Madam ; I did 
 not mean that. I meant that I hoped
 
 172 nature's nobility. 
 
 Lawrie would have all the virtues of his 
 mother and all the vices of his father." 
 
 Loud laughter went round the table — 
 even the clerks could not control them- 
 selves. 
 
 " No, no," said the old gentleman, " I 
 did'nt mean that either. Again I beg 
 pardon, dear Madam. I meant — " and here 
 he plunged his right hand into the capa- 
 cious pocket of his waistcoat, and began 
 to search for the draft of his speech, care- 
 fully prepared that afternoon. 
 
 "We know, dear cousin," said Mrs. Robert, 
 stretching her hand past Lawrie, who 
 sat in his little high chair on his mother's 
 right, and placing it on his arm, " what you 
 mean — we know that you love us all, and 
 you know that we love and respect you 
 very much ; so you need not take out any 
 paper to prove what you mean, and we 
 will drink little Lawrie 's health as you 
 propose."
 
 A SUPPEE PAETY. 
 
 So the old gentleman sat down much 
 relieved in mind, and all drank Lawrie's 
 health, and the little fellow swallowed the 
 half glass of Madeira, and shortly afterwards 
 wanted to tell the story of Jonah in the 
 whale's belly. 
 
 The Cathedral clock struck ten, and in 
 a few minutes Tombs's stentorian voice was 
 heard calling, " Past ten o'clock." 
 
 Mrs. Robert, after whispering to her 
 husband, sent the servant to tell Tombs 
 to come to the house, an invitation which 
 Tombs readily accepted. 
 
 " Here's Tombs, Sir," said the servant. 
 
 " Let him come in," said Mrs. Robert, 
 " and the dog too ; he must not be for- 
 gotten." 
 
 The broad-brimmed hat, the woollen 
 nightcap, the lantern, Tombs and Tray, 
 presented themselves at the door of the 
 dining-room. 
 
 "Keep on your hat, Tombs," said Mrs.
 
 174 natuke's nobility. 
 
 Robert, a suggestion grateful to Tombs' 
 feelings, as he knew that his hat and night- 
 cap were inseparable. "You shall have 
 something hot." 
 
 She told the servant to bring him a good 
 glass of old Jamaica "hot" — and cutting up 
 a delicate slice for Tray on a plate gave it 
 to the dog, with a pat on the head and the 
 promise of a nice collar. 
 
 Tombs regarded this proceeding with satis- 
 faction, and said, — 
 
 "Its fort'nate, Marm, that the clowg 
 had had his supper last night afore he picked 
 up the glove, or may be he'd have swallowed 
 it." 
 
 The old man took his tumbler of rum 
 and, before tasting it, said, — 
 
 " My humble respects to Master and Missus 
 and all their family, and may they have 
 more on em, and, as I said to Tray last 
 night, he won't find a better door step nor 
 this."
 
 A SUPPEK PARTY. 175 
 
 Mr. Robert then said, — 
 
 "Tombs, we are greatly indebted to you 
 for the discovery you made last night. It 
 was of the first importance, and under 
 Providence enabled us to recover our lost 
 child. Here is a five pound note for you, 
 and every Saturday you will find five 
 shillings waiting your acceptance." 
 
 Old Tombs was greatly delighted ; he ran 
 over in his own mind how many scores at 
 the " Red Dragon " it would pay for, and, 
 expressing his gratitude, went on his beat. 
 
 Tray was not without his reward. Mrs. 
 Robert gave him a handsome brass collar, 
 with the words "From Lawrie to Tray" 
 engraved on it. 
 
 The next morning the household in the 
 Close were later in rising than usual. The 
 festivities of the previous evening had not 
 terminated until after eleven, and each one 
 felt the excitement and anxieties of the 
 preceding day.
 
 176 nature's nobility. 
 
 Somewhat, therefore, to the annoyance of 
 Mrs. Robert, Mrs. Smyley made her appear- 
 ance about ten o'clock in her sedan chair, 
 jnst at the time when all the business of 
 the house was in arrear, and everybody was 
 trying to make up for lost time. 
 
 However Mrs. Eobert received her very 
 kindly, for her gentle nature was incapable 
 of denying her. 
 
 " My dear sister," said Mrs. Smyley, " I 
 have called to condole with you about the 
 disappearance of little Lawrie, and to offer 
 you a Christian sister's sympathy." 
 
 Mrs. Robert joyfully replied that he had 
 been restored to them, and shortly ex- 
 plained the circumstances. 
 
 " Then, dear sister," said Mrs. Smyley, 
 "it is doubly incumbent upon you to kneel 
 before the Almighty. You have had both a 
 loss and a gain. I came to spend a short 
 time in religious devotion with you and 
 your household, and you will not, I know,
 
 A SUPPER PARTY. 177 
 
 permit any earthly things to interfere be- 
 tween you and your manifest duty. Call 
 in the servants, my dear sister, and we will at 
 once proceed. Mr. Henry, too, will no doubt 
 be delighted to unite with us ; it is an oppor- 
 tunity seldom afforded to him. I fear that 
 he walks in darkness, and I shall be glad 
 indeed if I can be the humble instrument 
 in rescuing him from the paths of unright- 
 eousness." 
 
 Mrs. Robert was puzzled what to do. 
 
 " Oh, if it had been any other day," she 
 said to herself, and meekly suggested that 
 they had been so excited with late events 
 that all the household affairs were behind-' 
 hand, and if Mrs. Smyley could only — here 
 she stopped, hoping Mrs. Smyley would 
 fall in with the half-expressed " another 
 day." 
 
 But Mrs. Smyley rather sharply took 
 her to task, and said that there was no time 
 like the present time, that a clear and 
 
 VOL. i. N
 
 178 nature's nobility. 
 
 manifest duty ought not to be postponed 
 for an hour ; and that she ought not to 
 incur such an awful responsibility. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Robert, half frightened, gave 
 her consent, and at Mrs. Smyley's request 
 sent word to the chairmen to take the 
 sedan chair round into the garden, and 
 when they had done so they were to 
 come into the house and join in the 
 devotions. 
 
 Whilst the conversation was going on, 
 Mr. Henry was in the drawing-room re- 
 vising and correcting the speech that he 
 ought to have delivered on the previous 
 evening thinking it possible that the "Lurne- 
 Chester Chronicle " might yet require it for 
 publication in connection with its report of 
 the proceedings on the 16th. He was in a 
 particularly happy mood. His goldheaded 
 cane had been forwarded to him that 
 morning with the Chief-Constable's com- 
 pliments ; the coach builder had sent word
 
 A SUPPER PARTY. 179 
 
 that he had restored the yellow coach to 
 its pristine perfection at a slight expense ; 
 little Lawrie had had a long ride on the 
 rocking-horse, and had kept the teeth of 
 all the household on edge by his perform- 
 ances on the fiddle ; and he met Mrs. 
 Eobert as she entered the drawing-room with 
 one of his kindly smiles and courtly bows, 
 and placing a chair for her took another 
 by her side. 
 
 There was a look of anxiety in Mrs. 
 Robert's face which surprised Mr. Henry, 
 for he thought that all care had vanished 
 with the recovery of Lawrie. So his 
 simple mind jumped at all kinds of con- 
 clusions. 
 
 " Nothing the matter with my cousin 
 Robert, I hope?" said Mr. Henry. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no," said Mrs. Robert 
 " but "— 
 
 " But what, my dear Madam ; pray tell 
 me, has his bank broke "? "
 
 180 natuke's nobility. 
 
 " Not that either," said Mrs.Robert laugh- 
 ing, " it's only Mrs. Smyley, who has just 
 arrived, and wants" — here she hesitated — 
 " and wants to have prayers, a short ser- 
 mon, and you to join us." 
 
 Had a thunderbolt fallen in the room 
 the old gentleman's face could scarcely have 
 expressed more astonishment. 
 
 " Prayers and a sermon, my dear Madam," 
 he exclaimed. " Thank God I go to church 
 every Sunday morning, and what more can 
 she expect me to do ? " 
 
 " But, my dear cousin," said Mrs. Robert, 
 with her winning smile, "won't you do it 
 to oblige me \ For though Mrs. Smyley is 
 rather exacting she does much good, and 
 I should be sorry if her feelings were 
 hurt." 
 
 " My dear Madam," said Mr. Henry, 
 " command me. I've heard of Dr. Smyley 's 
 doings, and I consider him nothing but a 
 Methodist in disguise, but I will obey you
 
 A SUPPER PARTY. 181 
 
 rather than Mrs. Smyley should give you a 
 moment's unhappiness." 
 
 So gallantly giving his arm to Mrs. 
 Eobert he led her into the dining-room, 
 where were already assembled all the 
 children (except little Lawrie, whom Mrs. 
 Robert kept out of the way lest he should 
 hear something about his deliverance 
 from the Jesuits) and the servants and 
 the two chairmen. 
 
 Mrs. Robert was not aware of certain 
 peculiarities of Mr. Henry. She had not 
 attended the service at Whicham Church, 
 and did not know that the old gentleman 
 was in the habit of making a running com- 
 mentary, not only on the liturgy, but also 
 on the sermons, from the deep recess of 
 his high-backed pew ; a habit which had 
 become so familiar to the Vicar and the 
 congregation generally that no one took 
 any notice of it ; had she been she would 
 have thought twice before asking him to
 
 182 nature's nobility. 
 
 take part in this extemporised morning 
 service. 
 
 Mrs. Smyley rising from her seat and 
 kneeling, all the rest followed her example. 
 Mr. Henry, owing to his maimed arm, 
 took more time than the rest, but having 
 fairly settled down was as devout as any of 
 them. 
 
 Mrs. Smyley began by a general exhor- 
 tation to thankfulness, and then dwelt espe- 
 cially upon the restoration of Lawrie, obser- 
 ving that all their hearts were full of joy 
 and thankfulness, whereupon Mr. Henry 
 interjected, " So they are — all of us." 
 
 Mrs. Smyley paused a moment, and then 
 proceeded to say that in all our ways we 
 ought to recognize the hand of Providence. 
 
 " No doubt about it," interjected Mr. 
 Henry. 
 
 Mrs. Smyley again paused, and then went 
 on to say that " all who did not do so 
 seriously erred."
 
 A SUPPEE PAETY. 183 
 
 " Of course they do," chimed in Mr. 
 Henry. 
 
 Another pause. 
 
 Mrs. Smyley then dwelt upon the pun- 
 ishment due to sinners, impressing upon 
 those present that the sins of the fathers 
 would be visited upon the children to the 
 third and fourth generation. 
 
 This was a particularly objectionable doc- 
 trine to Mr. Henry, against which he never 
 failed to protest in his own village church, 
 believing it to have been invented by the 
 Methodists, and so he interjected, " Great 
 shame if they were." 
 
 Mrs. Smyley then rose, and her example 
 was followed by the others, who all left the 
 room except Mrs. Robert and Mr. Henry, 
 a slight titter coming from the domestics. 
 
 " My dear sister," said Mrs. Smyley, " I 
 must depart ; these interruptions to the ser- 
 vice are too great. I will simply hand you 
 this little paper before I go."
 
 184 natuee's nobility. 
 
 On looking at it Mrs. Robert read as 
 
 follows :- 
 
 Mrs. Robert de Noel, 
 
 To Dr. Smyley. 
 
 s. d. 
 
 To a set of Dr. Smyley's hymns 7 6 
 
 Ditto Sermons 7 6 
 
 To account delivered 15 
 
 Total £1 10 
 
 Mrs. Robert smiled, and taking out her 
 purse put down the amount without a 
 word, although she had quite a large stock 
 of those valuable publications already, where- 
 on Mrs. Smyley observed that the books 
 would be found on the hall table, and 
 kissing Mrs. Robert, and moving very 
 stiffly to Mr. Henry, she ordered the sedan 
 chair round and departed, accompanied by 
 Mrs. Robert to the door. 
 
 When the aforesaid ancient machine 
 was brought round it was occupied by no 
 less a personage than little Lawrie.
 
 A SUPPEK PAETY. 185 
 
 Whenever he heard of Mrs. Smy ley's 
 arrival he played the truant, hiding him- 
 self away until Mrs. Smy ley had commenced 
 her ministrations, when he would leave 
 his place of concealment and institute a 
 strict survey and examination of Mrs. 
 Smyley's property. He usually began that 
 process by getting in at one side window 
 and out at the other, then for variety's 
 sake getting in and out of the front window, 
 then trying the strength of the poles, 
 sometimes disturbing the equilibrium so 
 much as to endanger the upsetting of the 
 structure ; then opening the door and seat- 
 ing himself inside and putting up the 
 window, he would indulge in an ideal 
 journey, the chairmen being clothed in scarlet 
 and gold liveries. On this occasion he 
 fell asleep, and the chairmen, unconscious 
 of the passenger inside, carried him and 
 the chair to the front door. 
 
 Mrs. Smyley, looking very serious, stood
 
 186 nature's nobility. 
 
 on the steps, and on the door being 
 opened discovered the sleeping Lawrie. 
 
 She had been so pnt ont by Mr. 
 Henry that she had forgotten to ask to 
 see the child, and as she was not a bad- 
 hearted woman, the sight of him soothed 
 her ruffled temper, and telling one of the 
 chairmen to lift him out of the chair gently, 
 she gave him a kiss, on which he awoke. 
 
 Now little Lawrie's adventures had given 
 his nerves a shock, and frequently during 
 the previous night he had felt for his 
 nurse's nightcap, to make himself sure 
 that it was really his nurse who was in 
 bed with him and not Mrs. Basford, who 
 had slept without that appendage. 
 
 On opening his eyes and seeing Mrs. 
 Smyley peering at him through her spec- 
 tacles from the deep recess of her coal- 
 scuttle bonnet, Lawrie gave a shriek as if 
 this were a new horror, but seeing his 
 mother on the steps he was satisfied.
 
 A SUPPEE PAETY. 187 
 
 Mrs. Smyley said a few kind words, 
 hoped he was learning Dr. Smyley 's hymns 
 off by heart, and pnt a new shilling into 
 his hand, which highly delighted him. 
 
 Mr. Henry was wholly nnable to com- 
 prehend what new crime he had committed 
 which had caused Mrs. Smyley 's sudden 
 departure, for he perceived from her manner 
 to him that she regarded him as the 
 cause. He felt quite clear in his own 
 mind that he had done nothing to offend 
 the old lady, and was certain that Mrs. 
 Robert had not ; therefore, when Mrs. 
 Robert returned after seeing Mrs. Smyley 
 off, she found him in a very perplexed 
 state. 
 
 "What does all this mean, my dear 
 Madam % n he said. " I understood that we 
 were to have a sermon as well as prayers, 
 and Mrs. Smyley scarcely acknowledged 
 me when she left the room." 
 
 " Cousin," said Mrs. Robert, looking
 
 188 natuke's nobility. 
 
 rather grave, " Mrs. Smyley is very pecu- 
 liar, and to tell you the truth she felt 
 annoyed at your interposing in the prayers." 
 
 "But, my dear Madam," said Mr. Henry, 
 " how could I pass by such a doctrine as she 
 started. Suppose little Lawrie's great grand- 
 father had stolen a sheep, ought Lawrie 
 to be hung for it?" 
 
 The simple common sense of the old 
 gentleman, though it did not in the least 
 shake her belief in the dogma, could not 
 but win her heart, and she said, — 
 
 " Well, dear cousin, you perhaps won't 
 object to smooth matters over with Mrs. 
 Smyley if you have an opportunity.' 1 
 
 " Not in the least, my dear Madam, and 
 before I leave I will make a point of 
 calling upon her."
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 A BOLD DRAGOON. 
 
 Mes. Robert having got through her 
 manifold household duties had Lawrie to 
 sit with her, and the little fellow told her 
 in his child- like way how Basford had 
 seized him, and taken off his cap, and 
 wrapped him up in a shawl, and given 
 him to his wife, and the two then ran off 
 with him ; how much he had cried, and 
 that Mrs. Basford had no nightcap on 
 like nurse, and how frightened he was 
 when he saw her in bed, and how kind 
 she was the next morning, and had washed 
 him, and combed and curled his hair, and 
 that he said his prayers, and told her the 
 story of Jonah in the whale's belly and
 
 190 nature's nobility. 
 
 other Bible stories, and how she cried 
 afterwards and kissed him ; and from all 
 this Mrs. Robert arrived at the conclusion 
 that Mrs. Basford had been very kind to 
 her little son. Then she shuddered, for 
 she thought that possibly she wanted to 
 keep him and make a factory boy of him, 
 and what if she should hang about the 
 house and take an opportunity of carrying 
 him off again ; and it made her look very 
 pensive, and she rang the bell, and told 
 the old nurse her fears, and said she must 
 be very careful not to let him go out 
 alone, and even if she was with him never 
 to let him lag behind, with many other 
 directions such as a fond mother would 
 give. 
 
 But supposing Mrs. Basford merely did 
 all this because she felt for the child on 
 account of his being taken from his mo- 
 ther, then was it not kind of her ? and 
 when Mr. Robert spoke of her being
 
 A BOLD DKAGOON. 191 
 
 gagged, and tied to the bedposts, she could 
 not help crying at one so kind to her 
 child being so harshly treated, and she felt 
 a womanly sympathy for Mrs. Basford. 
 
 When Mr. Robert called at the police 
 office on the morning after Lawrie's re- 
 covery, to hand over the reward of £100 
 to the Chief-Constable (he had previously 
 made each of the clerks engaged in the 
 affair a handsome present), that officer 
 had a perturbed and anxious look which 
 so struck Mr. Robert that he expressed a 
 hope that nothing very serious was the 
 matter. 
 
 " Not exactly serious — at all events not at 
 present, but it may become so," and he 
 then proceeded to explain to Mr. Robert 
 that reports had been sent in to him from 
 different suburbs of Lumechester of nu- 
 merous highway robberies by a tall, power- 
 ful man of soldier-like bearing ; that they 
 had commenced immediately on the break
 
 192 natuee's nobility. 
 
 up of the meeting on the sixteenth, and 
 had been carried on up to midnight 
 of that day, and up to midnight of 
 the following clay, and although he had 
 sent constables in different directions he 
 could gain no clue to his whereabouts. 
 Presenting a long pistol of foreign work- 
 manship at his victims' heads he demanded 
 their money or their life, and had been 
 successful in obtaining a large sum. His 
 depredations were continued even in broad 
 daylight, and his cunning and discernment 
 were such that he usually stopped those 
 who had money upon them, several being 
 persons entrusted with large sums to pay 
 wages at factories. 
 
 Whilst the Chief and Mr. Eobert were 
 in conversation, a constable came into the 
 room and said that Mr. Eutherford wanted 
 to see the Chief immediately, and that he 
 was at the door. 
 
 The Chief told the man to shew Mr.
 
 A BOLD DKAGOON. 193 
 
 Kutherford into the room, and the latter, 
 apparently much agitated, entered. He 
 shook hands with Mr. Robert and congra- 
 tulated him on the restoration of his child, 
 and Mr. Robert was about to leave when 
 Mr. Rutherford asked him to stay. 
 
 The latter then stated to the Chief that 
 about half-past nine that morning he had 
 left his house on the Whicham Road, and 
 had only gone a few yards from the lodge 
 gate, when a tall, powerful man leapt over 
 the fence at the side of the road, and pre- 
 senting a pistol at his head exclaimed, "Your 
 money or your life ; " that there being no- 
 body by to assist him, he took some gold 
 out of his pocket and offered it to the man, 
 who took it, and said, " I want more," and 
 threatening him with instant death if he 
 did not deliver up all he had, compelled 
 him to hand over a roll of bank notes to 
 a large amount. 
 
 As Mr. Rutherford told his story the 
 vol. i. o
 
 194 natuke's nobility. 
 
 Chiefs countenance grew darker and 
 darker. 
 
 " This will never do,"' said he. He rang 
 the bell. " Send Green here." 
 
 Green entered the room. 
 
 " Green," said the Chief, " we must take 
 this highwayman dead or alive." 
 
 He then told him the pith of Mr. 
 Rutherford's story , % and took down in writ- 
 ing a most minute description of his 
 personal appearance. 
 
 "We'll have him," said the Chief, "before 
 this time to-morrow, or my name isn't what 
 it is." 
 
 " I feel no doubt, Green, it is that soldier- 
 fellow. Take what men you like, and make 
 what disposition you like, but the man 
 must be taken, or we shall all get into 
 disgrace." 
 
 Green left the room. 
 
 The Chief, turning to Mr. Robert, said — 
 " It is such things as these," holding up
 
 A BOLD DEAGOON. 195 
 
 Mr. Robert's bank note, that make my men 
 what they are — that man Green would 
 face the devil himself, and so I believe would 
 the others." 
 
 That afternoon, four tall, powerful men — 
 one judging by his tool bag, a carpenter, 
 another apparently a mason, and two others 
 looking like bricklayers — stood on the bank 
 of the canal which ran through the 
 southern suburbs of Lumechester, looking 
 at a factory boy who sat on the bank 
 with a fishing-rod, absorbed in that dullest 
 of all amusements. 
 
 "Thou'st got a bite," shouted out the 
 carpenter, " moind and land him." 
 
 " Oh , thou fewle," called out the mason, 
 " thou'st lost him ; " and the nearer that a 
 tall, military-looking man approached the 
 group, the more intent they all seemed on 
 the sport. 
 
 " Try another wum," said one of the brick- 
 layers, and they all laid their heads together
 
 196 nature's nobility. 
 
 to select the best worm out of the factory 
 boy's worm box. 
 
 The military-looking man got up to the 
 group, and seemed inclined to stop, but 
 merely giving a look at them passed on. 
 
 The carpenter said, in what he intended 
 for a whisper, " That's him ! " which the 
 military-looking man evidently overheard, 
 for he turned round and looked at them. 
 
 " Here, my man," said the mason, " I 
 want to speak to thee." 
 
 " AVhat do you want with me I " was 
 the reply, and he drew from his breast a 
 long double-barrelled pistol. 
 
 The mason rushed forward, head down, 
 the carpenter by his side. A bullet whistled 
 between their heads. 
 
 The mason had the man round the waist 
 instantly ; the carpenter twisted the pistol 
 out of his hand ; the two bricklayers 
 grappled his legs, and they all fell to the 
 ground together.
 
 A BOLD DKAGOON. 197 
 
 The man had the strength of Hercules. 
 He had fallen on his face, and using his 
 arms to raise himself, put his right hand into 
 the breast pocket of his coat, and the long 
 shining blade of a dagger was all but free 
 from its sheath, when the factory boy, darting 
 between the mason and the carpenter, seized 
 the right wrist with both his hands. The 
 mason dealt the man two terrible blows 
 on the head with his mallet, the carpenter 
 slipped on handcuffs, and the " soldier 
 felloAv" was a prisoner; his right wrist was 
 handcuffed to the mason's left, and his left 
 to the carpenter's right. 
 
 " Thank God," said the mason, who was 
 no other than Green, " we've got him at 
 last." 
 
 " D you," said the man ; " if I'd got 
 
 out that dagger I'd have killed you all." 
 
 "I do believe you would," said Green, 
 quietly, "and it's fortunate for us you didn't. 
 We owe that to Jem."
 
 198 nature's nobility. 
 
 As the man was marched through the 
 streets to the police office, even Green's 
 tall and powerful frame was dwarfed by 
 comparison with that of his prisoner. 
 
 The man had been in the Scots Greys. 
 He was admitted to be the strongest man 
 and best swordsman in his regiment, and 
 one of the finest horsemen. He might have 
 been regimental sergeant-major, and even 
 commissioned officer, but no sooner was he 
 promoted than his loose habits caused his 
 reduction to the ranks. He had served in 
 the Peninsular War with distinguished 
 bravery, and was with his regiment at the 
 crowning victory of Waterloo. He rode in 
 the decisive charge of heavy cavalry, and 
 singling out a group consisting of an officer 
 and two privates of the C uirassiers attacked 
 them alone. He slew the two privates, and 
 then, turning to the officer, cleft through 
 his gold-mounted helmet to his chin, then 
 dismounting he took from the still quiver-
 
 A BOLD DRAGOON. 199 
 
 ing body a brace of highly ornamented 
 pistols and a purse, and in the latter 
 found a card, "Le Due de Belle-Chasse." 
 
 Master Lawrie, in the afternoon, held a 
 kind of reception at the Close. His adven- 
 ture had spread far and wide. 
 
 Soon after dinner Mrs. Robert's second 
 cousin made her appearance, a Miss Vanda- 
 leur, of the mature age of 65. She had 
 a face which indicated that in her youth 
 she had possessed remarkable beauty, and 
 she had done her utmost to preserve 
 that much esteemed but oft denied female 
 qualification, and had succeeded ad- 
 mirably by calling in the aid of those 
 appliances which at that time had dis- 
 appeared from a lady's toilet, but had 
 been of universal application in her 
 youth, and which she had not relin- 
 quished, and in fact could not relinquish, 
 without her face presenting that withered, 
 sallow, and used-up appearance which
 
 200 natuke's nobility. 
 
 invariably follows the long use of cos- 
 metics. 
 
 Oh ! ye youthful maidens of this favour- 
 ed Isle, whose breezes bring roses to the 
 cheeks. Nature is the artist, why do 
 ye persist in destroying her wonderful work 
 with the hairdresser's powder'? Do you 
 think that men don't see through the flimsy 
 disguise, and laugh at the suicidal folly 
 which destroys one of woman's most pre- 
 cious gifts from God — a beautiful com- 
 plexion 1 
 
 Miss Vandaleur's delicate applications 
 were equally as successful as they were 
 necessary. A little round patch of black 
 court plaster was cunningly placed at the 
 most telling point of her face, and brought 
 out in a strong contrast the marble white- 
 ness of her skin. Her powdered hair 
 was drawn back from her forehead, and 
 mounted up with tasteful ties at the back 
 of her head. Her lace excited the envy
 
 A BOLD DEAGOON. 201 
 
 of her female friends. Her dress, full of 
 taste, both in colour and make, was looped 
 up so as to shew a neatly-turned ancle, 
 clad in white silk stockings, and her small 
 feet were encased in high-heeled shoes, 
 fastened with silver buckles. The rings 
 on her delicate hands were antiques of 
 great value. 
 
 She had apartments in the Close ; so, 
 simply throwing a white lace shawl over 
 her head, fastened with a choice brooch 
 at the neck, and taking her ivory-handled 
 cane, mounted in silver, she made her 
 way to Mr. Robert's house. 
 
 Though Mr. Robert, who had a touch of 
 the Puritan about him, often flung a slight 
 sneer at the "frivolous old woman," as he 
 sometimes called her when his temper was 
 a little ruffled ; yet, as his wife's relative, he 
 always treated her with the highest respect. 
 She was welcome to his house, and was, 
 indeed, almost a daily visitor there.
 
 202 natuke's nobility. 
 
 How was it that the old lady shewed a 
 little nervousness when she knocked at 
 the door] Must we let you into the 
 secret at once, gentle reader? 
 
 The fact is that she and Mr. Henry being 
 thrown together on the occasions of the 
 annual visits of the latter to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Robert, she had formed a sentimental at- 
 tachment to Mr. Henry, whose courtly and 
 deferential manner to her had not been 
 without its effect- 
 As she entered the drawing-room she 
 found Mrs. Robert, her eldest daughter, 
 Lawrie, and Mr. Henry there. She saluted 
 the two ladies with a sincerely affectionate 
 kiss, and turning towards Mr. Henry gave 
 a high-bred curtsey, which the latter re- 
 turned with a profound bow, and then, asking 
 the privilege of kissing her hand, he salu- 
 ted it with much respect not unmingled 
 with admiration, which Miss Vandaleur per- 
 ceiving, blushed slightly.
 
 A BOLD DKAGOON. 203 
 
 Lawrie had secured her cane on her en- 
 tering the room, and, converting it into a 
 prancing steed, was in wild career, when 
 Mies Vandaleur requested him to come and 
 kiss her, and having done so he remounted 
 his horse and smarted off afresh. 
 
 " More beautiful than ever " said Mr. Henry, 
 handing her a chair, and taking another 
 by her side. " A very Ninon d'Euclos." 
 Whereupon Miss Vandaleur gave him a 
 tap with her fan on his cheek and called 
 him " un vieux galant," which Mrs. Ko- 
 bert and her daughter observing, they in- 
 dulged in gentle laughter. 
 
 Then entered the two gaunt unmarried 
 daughters of one of the principal solicitors 
 of the place. Elderly ladies, of a sedate 
 turn of mind, and who, having nothing to 
 engage their attention at home, spent every 
 afternoon in making calls. Having in 
 measured sentences expressed their plea- 
 sure at Lawrie's restoration, they proceeded
 
 204 nature's nobility. 
 
 to state their opinion that those low peo- 
 ple should be kept down with a high hand, 
 and that their father was engaged in 
 drafting out a Bill which he would ask 
 the Government to introduce into Parlia- 
 ment, giving local authorities permanent 
 and summary power to put down popular 
 disturbances in manufacturing districts. 
 
 Mr. Henry, who had now become in- 
 volved in a distinct flirtation with Miss 
 Vandaleur, overhearing this, expressed his 
 strong approval, and offered to give evi- 
 dence, if necessary, in favour of the Bill. 
 
 Mr. Witcombe was then announced. A 
 tall, thin, serious-looking man of about 
 fifty, dressed in a black suit, a little faded 
 but well kept, and standing behind a 
 monstrous white cravat, which so beset him 
 around that when he turned to speak it 
 was necessary that his shoulders should 
 work in unison with his neck. He wore 
 a brown wig.
 
 A BOLD DRAGOON. 205 
 
 Mr. Witcombe had the habit of open- 
 ing his mouth before beginning to speak, 
 and so keeping it until the inward work- 
 ing of the brain attained such a force as 
 enabled him to give vent to the overpow- 
 ering intellect. 
 
 Having uttered the words expressive of 
 his thoughts for the time being, the mouth 
 again opened, and so remained until the 
 intellectual pumping apparatus had again 
 expended its energy. 
 
 Mr. Witcombe, owing to the paucity of 
 his speech, had obtained a high character 
 for wisdom. The forces which lay hidden 
 under that brown wig were acknowledged' 
 on all hands to be enormous. Even Mr. 
 Robert admitted them, and consulted Mr. 
 Witcombe (the only person except his 
 wife whom he ever did consult) on impor- 
 tant occasions. 
 
 Mr. Witcombe, advancing to Mrs. Ro- 
 bert, took her hand, opened his mouth,
 
 206 nature's nobility. 
 
 and Mrs. Robert, knowing that the volcano 
 must have time to expend itself, broke the 
 silence, saying, — 
 
 " It is very good of you, Mr. Witcombe, 
 to come so soon. You see Lawrie is all 
 right." 
 
 Lawrie had paused in the midst of a 
 furious charge — having by this time sur- 
 rounded himself in imagination with at- 
 tendant horsemen — to look into the vast 
 cavern disclosed by Mr. Witcombe's open 
 mouth, which so frightened him, that on the 
 latter putting out his arms to lift him up 
 and kiss him, he ran from the room, and 
 took shelter under his nurse's apron, and 
 remained with her until " Chisel Tom " came 
 and asked could he see Master Lawrie. 
 
 Tom was a joiner by trade, and carried 
 on his handicraft in an ancient tumble- 
 down cottage not far from Mr. Robert's 
 house. He used to do any work in his 
 line required there, and Lawrie and he
 
 A BOLD DEAGOON. 207 
 
 were great friends, as he used to experiment 
 with Tom's tools whenever he came, and 
 when he could slip out unknown to his 
 nurse he was pretty sure to be found in 
 Tom's workshop. 
 
 Lawrie had taken a fancy to boat building, 
 and was encouraged therein by Tom, who 
 promised that when he was a little older 
 he would show him how to make a big ship. 
 
 Tom was asked in, and it was a 
 pleasure to see the honest emotions of 
 delight which he showed at Lawrie's escape. 
 The two arranged that the big ship should 
 be commenced at once, and Lawrie, taking- 
 out of his pocket the new shilling given 
 to him by Mrs. Smyley, offered it to Tom, 
 but the latter with many thanks declined 
 to accept it.
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THE "NANCY" BARGE. 
 
 It was fortunate for Richard Basford 
 that he had lost his coat on the previous 
 day, for had his strong arms been encum- 
 bered with it his career might have ended 
 with drowning. He swam with the current 
 for nearly a mile, when he landed quite 
 exhausted, and first breathing a short prayer 
 of thanksgiving that his life had been 
 spared, stood for a moment — hidden from 
 the view of those on the opposite shore 
 by the piled up cargo of a barge moored 
 to the wharf, and from the view of those 
 on the same side by the bearing wall 
 of the street above — considering what he 
 should do. 
 
 A tap on the back with the end of a
 
 THE " NANCY " BAEGE. 209 
 
 boat hook made him look round, when 
 he perceived a female figure in the aft of 
 the barge, close to the door of the little 
 cabin opening on the uncovered lower 
 deck. She beckoned him in, and, pointing 
 to the cabin, bade him, in a whisper, 
 enter. 
 
 It was a small place about eight feet- 
 square ; an oil lamp hung from the roof, 
 a small cooking stove was at the further 
 end, from each side of which to the door 
 ran a locker, forming store places for pro- 
 visions, clothes, and bedding. A narrow 
 turn-down fixed table stood in the centre, 
 and before the decaying fire lay a wicked-' 
 looking lurcher dog, which eyed Basford 
 with no amiable look. 
 
 The woman was cheery-looking, short 
 and stout, with bronzed face, clad in a 
 man's jacket, short woollen petticoat, and 
 thick hob -nailed boots laced up to the 
 ankle. 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 natuke's nobility. 
 
 As soon as Basford entered she closed 
 the door, and, speaking in broad Lanca- 
 shire, told him that she had seen him bat- 
 tling with the water, and felt sure the 
 " runners " were after him, expressing her 
 great delight that he had escaped from 
 them, and told him that he could hide in 
 the boat until he thought he could get 
 away safely. 
 
 Looking compassionately at Basford's 
 dripping clothes, she opened one of 
 the lockers, and taking out a corduroy 
 jacket, waistcoat, and knee-breeches, with 
 coarse but clean shirt, and thick worsted 
 stockings, she put them on the table along 
 with a rough towel, and told him he had 
 better change his clothes at once, and she 
 would dry his own ; then closing the cabin 
 door left him to himself. 
 
 Basford breathed a sigh of relief ; for he 
 knew that after reaching the shore he stood 
 a great chance of being arrested, as the
 
 BAKGE. 211 
 
 prison in which he had been confined 
 several months was in the street above, 
 just opposite to where he had landed, and 
 there was a great chance that if he had 
 ascended the steps leading from the wharf 
 he might have met one of the gaolers, to 
 whom he was well known. 
 
 He availed himself of the good woman's 
 kindness, and, having finished his toilet, 
 opened the cabin door and told her so 
 with many thanks. She brewed him a 
 cup of hot tea, to which she offered to add 
 some rum, which he declined, and, greatly 
 refreshed, he began to ponder on the events 
 of the day, and, with a sorrowful heart 
 thought of his wife, who was left without 
 a shilling in her pocket. 
 
 In addition to the clothes, the kind 
 woman gave him a black rabbit- skin cap. 
 This Basford put on, and looking in the 
 little glass which stood over the stove, it 
 struck him that, dressed as he was, it would
 
 212 nature's nobility. 
 
 be difficult to recognise him, especially if 
 he could darken his complexion. To his 
 joy he saw a basket of green walnuts in a 
 comer, and, asking leave of his hostess, 
 he broke up a number, and soon suc- 
 ceeded in giving himself a bronze com- 
 plexion. 
 
 He took her into his confidence, and told 
 her enough to enlist her womanly sym- 
 pathies, and putting a short pipe into his 
 mouth, and followed by the lurcher, who 
 had made friends with him and wanted a 
 walk, he left the barge, promising to re- 
 turn shortly, and mounted the steps into 
 the street. 
 
 The officer on duty at the entrance to 
 the prison was airing himself outside and 
 gave a look at Basford ; but the bargee 
 dress, short pipe, and dog so well 
 represented the kind of figure which 
 he often saw at the top of the steps, 
 that the suspicion of his being the
 
 BARGE. 213 
 
 Richard Basford whom he knew so well, 
 and whom he was aware was " wanted," 
 never entered his head. 
 
 Basford turned to the right, and a few 
 strides brought him to the foot of a bridge 
 over the river which he crossed, then 
 bending to the left, he took a narrow 
 street running parallel to the river, and, 
 passing through various streets and passages, 
 found himself in the Wellgate, and made 
 his way direct to Wellgate Court. It 
 would appear rather a daring deed for Bas- 
 ford to walk, as it were, into the lion's den, 
 but he depended upon the constables never 
 suspecting that he would dare to return, 
 and to the metamorphosis effected by his 
 change of costume. He found the door 
 open, and though several of the inmates 
 who knew him met him on the stairs, he 
 passed unrecognised to the door of the room 
 where his wife had slept the preceding 
 night. He knocked at the door, which he
 
 214 nature's nobility. 
 
 found locked, and a faint voice answered, 
 "Who is there?" 
 
 Basford in a low tone said, "A friend," 
 and thereupon the door was gently opened, 
 and the pale worn face of his wife peered 
 through the opening. She did not recog- 
 nize her husband ; he put his fingers to his 
 lip to indicate silence, and then said 
 "Richard! " and entered. 
 
 She threw her arms round his neck, and 
 low sobs followed one another. 
 
 "Mary," said he, hurriedly, "take this," 
 putting his purse into her hand, " Get thee 
 away as fast as thou can. I'll away to 
 Saint Peter's in the Rocks. Go thou home ; 
 get my things and thine together, lock up 
 the house and leave it, and come as soon 
 as thou can, and as thou can, to Ebenezer 
 Thorneycroft's, under the rock. Thou 
 knowest it. Thou wilt find me there in a 
 day or two. God bless thee," and fervently 
 embracing her, he called off the lurcher,
 
 BAEGE. 215 
 
 which had found a rat-hole, and was sit- 
 ting with uplifted ears and outstretched 
 tail at the opening, and hastily descended 
 the stairs. 
 
 He met Clogs, who did not know him. 
 
 That musical genius had had his spirits 
 damped by the hard punches given him 
 by Jem, and looked as if his self-confidence 
 had considerably abated. 
 
 Returning by the same route he regained 
 the barge, and found his hostess seated in 
 the aft by the side of a rough-looking man, 
 on to whose knees the lurcher sprung at 
 once ; this was the husband of his hostess. 
 He had evidently been laying in a store of 
 strong waters prior to his leaving at sun- 
 rise next morning, via the canal and the 
 river which it joined, for the port whence 
 the Lumechester manufactures were shipped 
 for foreign parts. 
 
 The husband greeted Basford with a 
 hearty shake of the hand, said his wife
 
 216 nature's nobility. 
 
 had told him all about it, and that he 
 was welcome to the loan of his clothes, 
 and to a shakedown on board the barge, 
 and either to leave in the morning before 
 starting, or to go with him on the canal 
 all or any part of the way. 
 
 Basford's olfactory nerves discovered a 
 savoury smell coming from the cabin, and 
 immediately on his arrival the bargee told 
 him that his " missus " had got something 
 tasty for supper, and the latter calling out 
 that the meal was ready, Basford and his 
 host and hostess sat down in the little 
 cabin, where the repast was served up with 
 nice clean linen. 
 
 Basford had been many hours without 
 food, and the stew, consisting of a hare 
 whose death might without injustice be 
 laid at the lurcher's door, was very grate- 
 ful to him. As the remnants were put 
 away in a little larder in the cabin, Bas- 
 ford could see that there was no want of
 
 THE " NANCY " BARGE. 217 
 
 good things in store ; for a rabbit, a brace 
 of partridges, and a fowl were hanging up, 
 and the lurcher pricked up his ears and 
 wagged his tail as if he recognised old 
 acquaintances. 
 
 The night was warm, and Basforcl, worn 
 out with the anxieties and efforts of the 
 day, found comfort in a sound slumber on 
 some new hay and a couple of horse cloths 
 on the deck near the cabin door. The 
 lurcher coiled himself up by his side, and 
 his short bark shewed that his dreams 
 were of hares and rabbits. He was roused 
 at sunrise by the bargee to partake of a 
 substantial breakfast. That over, the' 
 bargee proceeded to unmoor and start. 
 
 A stout lad of twenty came on board, 
 and he and the bargee's wife set to work 
 to get the tow rope ready, and taking it 
 ashore, the wife harnessed herself to the 
 end by a broad leather belt round her 
 waist, whilst the lad fastened a similar
 
 218 natuee's nobility. 
 
 belt over his chest and under his arms. 
 The two towed the boat, whilst the 
 bargee with a long spiked pole kept the 
 head off the shore, and helped to propel 
 her. 
 
 Basford could not bear to see a woman 
 engaged in such an occupation, and offered 
 the bargee to take her place. But the 
 latter told him to" keep quiet in the cabin, 
 as the " runners " might be about, and that 
 his wife, being accustomed to the work, 
 could do it better than he could. 
 
 The lurcher stationed himself on the 
 top of the cargo, and with ears and tail 
 erect, gave notice to the public that the 
 " Nancy " barge was under weigh. 
 
 After they had got about a mile from 
 the wharf two decrepid horses were seen 
 standing on the towing path with downcast 
 heads and drooping ears, under the care of 
 a small boy, and the boat was then stopped. 
 The wife and the lad slipped off their
 
 THE "nancy" bakge. 219 
 
 harness, and the tow rope was fastened to 
 the crossbar of the hindmost of the two 
 horses ; the wife got on board, the lad cracked 
 his whip, which roused both the animals 
 from their sleep, and quietly dragging the 
 rope until it got " taut," they pulled upon 
 it without jerking — the hindmost, however, 
 being several times nearly in the water — 
 until they got into a steady pull at 
 the rate of about three miles an hour, 
 the boy walking behind the animals, and 
 cracking his whip constantly to enliven 
 them. 
 
 Basford told his host that he would avail 
 himself of his kindness to the point on the' 
 canal where the boundary between Lanca- 
 shire and Cheshire came within a short 
 distance, and then he could get into Che- 
 shire, where the warrant out against him 
 was of no avail unless " backed " by 
 Cheshire magistrates. When clear of the 
 town he sat in the stern, chatting with the
 
 220 nature's nobility. 
 
 bargee . The latter told him that he was 
 born on a canal boat, and had never worked 
 at anything else bnt barging ; that he re- 
 collected Brindley, the engineer employed by 
 the Duke who made the canal, that he was 
 a plain quiet man, and got no more than he 
 did, a pound a week ; and that he had 
 heard that when they were about to let 
 in the water, on the canal being finished, 
 Brindley was in such a "funk" lest 
 the banks should break down, that he 
 went home and got into bed, where 
 the Duke's agent found him and gave him 
 the news that all had gone on well. He 
 pointed out some deep holes here and there, 
 where he was pretty sure to pull out a 
 good perch or eel when he stopped for 
 the night, and the best spots for snaring 
 a hare, and where the partridges lay, and 
 the farm-yards lying convenient to the 
 canal, where plenty of poultry could 
 be had.
 
 THE " NANCY " BAKGE. 221 
 
 All these spots seemed as well known to 
 the lurcher as to his master, and a look 
 of recognition passed between the two as 
 the barge went slowly by. 
 
 The bargee, when they arrived at a lock, 
 usually left his wife on board and imbibed 
 a hearty draught of ale at the little tavern 
 which was usually found at these stopping- 
 places, and pressed Basford to join him, but 
 the latter, though insisting on paying for 
 it, scarcely touched the liquor, to the great 
 surprise of the bargee, who would then 
 hand over Basford's share to the " missus " 
 or the lad. In about four hours they 
 reached the point where Basford was to 
 leave them. He had exchanged his cloth 
 trousers, waistcoat, and hat for the corduroy 
 suit and rabbit-skin cap, as he thought 
 it best to keep up his disguise. Shaking 
 both heartily by the hand, he thanked them 
 for their kindness, and wished the hostess 
 to accept some silver, which she refused,
 
 222 natuee's nobility. 
 
 saying, " Good-bye, lad ; thou art a good 
 swimmer." 
 
 The bargee brought the tears into Bas- 
 ford's eyes by the hearty grip he gave 
 him, told him he should always be glad 
 to see him on board the " Nancy," and 
 pointed out where he would find the high 
 road. 
 
 The barge was brought up close to the 
 towing path, near a wooden bridge cross- 
 ing the canal, and Basford sprang on to 
 the towing path, and was followed by the 
 lurcher, evidently intent upon a little ex- 
 cursion of his own. 
 
 The bargee called him back, and waving 
 his cap to Basford as he passed over the 
 bridge, started the horses again. 
 
 Basford had by this time recovered his 
 spirits ; his chat with the bargee and his 
 wife had taken off his thoughts from the 
 events of the day before, and the fresh 
 air, green fields, ever-changing scene and
 
 BAEGE. 223 
 
 quietude, as the barge crept lazily along, 
 had soothed his nerves. 
 
 Crossing the bridge, he took an eastward 
 direction along a bridle road, which, after 
 half an hour's walk, took him into a main 
 road, where a signboard over a tavern, 
 " The Cheshire Cheese, " told him that 
 he was in Cheshire. 
 
 The difference between Lancashire and 
 Cheshire, mentioned in the early part of 
 the story, struck Basford very much. 
 
 It seemed to him as if he was in a 
 different world ; no pale-faced factory child- 
 ren, but strong ruddy little urchins, looking 
 as if fed on buttermilk and potatoes and 
 out of doors all day, met him as he strode 
 along. The honeysuckled cottages, with 
 little gardens in front, and white doorsteps, 
 made him long for a peaceful life with his 
 Mary in such a one, away from the smoke 
 and turmoil of Lancashire. 
 
 He almost asked himself, what did he
 
 224 natuee's nobility. 
 
 gain by his present life] Why should he 
 give the best of his days in association 
 with men many of whom were nothing 
 but impostors and cheats, shouting forth 
 loud orations in favour of the freedom of 
 man, when they themselves were enchained 
 by lust and vice 1 
 
 He came to a village school, over the 
 door of which was a stone slab, stating 
 that it had been erected and endowed by 
 the squire. At the breaking-up hour, and 
 as the children swarmed out like bees, clad 
 in their little scarlet cloaks, and looking 
 the picture of health and happiness, he 
 could not but admit that all landlords were 
 not "greedy." 
 
 Soon after, he crossed a village green, 
 alive with cricketers, and was told that 
 another squire was patron of the club, and 
 encouraged the game by giving prizes and 
 by paying the expenses of the club when 
 they made matches with other clubs in
 
 THE " NANCY " BAKGE. 225 
 
 distant parts of the country, and he began 
 to feel more charitable towards landlords 
 in general. 
 
 Although the labourers whom he met 
 eyed him with suspicion, yet they always 
 gave him a civil answer when in doubt as 
 to the right way, and in this respect the 
 difference between the Cheshire and Lan- 
 cashire labourers struck him. After a long- 
 day's walk be found himself at a cross 
 road, and, scanning the finger-post, he 
 found that one of the roads led to 
 Whicham, the place at which he intended 
 to pass the night. 
 
 Another half hour brought him to the 
 village, of which he had heard but had 
 never been there. He could not find any 
 inn except the " Spotted Deer," and he 
 was in great doubt, from the appearance 
 of the house, whether they would allow 
 such a rough-looking fellow as he was to 
 stay for the night on the premises. How- 
 
 VOL. i. Q
 
 226 nature's nobility. 
 
 ever, he walked into the tap room, and 
 touching his cap to the landlord said that he 
 had come a long way, and was on the road 
 to see his wife at Lnmechester, and should 
 feel obliged if he could lie down somewhere 
 for the night and should be glad to pay 
 something for it. 
 
 Basford held in his hand his rabbit-skin 
 cap and the landlord, seeing that he had 
 an intelligent, honest face, said that there 
 was a bed-room over the stables which 
 he might have for the night, and in 
 reply to Basford's request for some re- 
 freshment he ordered for him a good 
 meal of cold meat and bread and a pint 
 of ale. 
 
 The villagers by this time began to come 
 in for their evening glass and pipe, and 
 Basford sat in a corner, not taking any 
 part in the conversation. All the talk 
 was about the monster meeting at Lume- 
 chester, of which they had heard a good
 
 THE " NANCY " BAKGE. 227 
 
 deal from the Whicham men of the Yeo- 
 manry who had dispersed the mob. 
 
 They had heard that Squire Noel had 
 been knocked over and much injured, and 
 that his godson had been carried off and 
 taken no one knew where, and they were 
 unanimous in their opinion as to the dangers 
 of living in Lancashire, and thanked God 
 that they lived in Whicham, where none 
 of those Radicals ever came. 
 
 Basford took care to shew not the slightest 
 interest in the conversation, and did not 
 change countenance when one of them said 
 that a bad fellow called Basford, the worst 
 of the lot, was supposed to be the ring- 
 leader, and that he was a confounded rant- 
 ing Methodist, and richly deserved to be 
 hung, and he hoped he would be. 
 
 They then got upon some parish question, 
 in discussing which they highly praised 
 the liberality of the Earl, and something 
 arose out of it which brought in the name
 
 228 nature's nobility. 
 
 of the great Commoner, of whom they also 
 spoke highly, and all this was not with- 
 out its effect on Basford. 
 
 Fearing that some inconvenient questions 
 might be put to him, he left the room, and 
 went to his bed-room, where he soon fell 
 asleep. His departure let loose the tongues 
 of the villagers. . They gave vent to opinions 
 that he was somehow connected with the 
 proceedings of the mob and was hiding 
 away. They had noticed his manners as 
 differing from those of a bargee, and were 
 inclined to call in the village constable 
 and have him arrested ; but as that worthy 
 was usually "in his cups" at that hour, 
 they contented themselves with calling in 
 the landlord, and mentioning their sus- 
 picions. He had himself not been without 
 doubt as to the character of the stranger, 
 but he had somewhat of the feeling of 
 the Arab towards his guest, and poohed 
 down the idea.
 
 THE "nancy" baege. 229 
 
 Basford rose early the following morning, 
 and, without waiting to breakfast, started 
 on his journey. 
 
 He felt that he had had a narrow escape ; 
 the mention of the monster meeting and his 
 own name and Lawrie's surname (for Lawrie 
 had told Mrs. Basford his name), had not 
 been, he thought, without effect on his face, 
 and he fancied that the party at the " Spot- 
 ted Deer " had perceived it. Thinking that 
 he might be watched he took the Lume- 
 chester road for a short distance, and then 
 turning into a by-lane running eastwards, 
 he made for Wadport, a town partly in 
 Lancashire and partly in Cheshire, until he 
 came to the river which ran through the 
 town, when he followed the footpath along 
 the bank until he came to the suburbs, 
 when he turned to the right and followed 
 the road to London for some distance, then 
 bending to the left continued in a north- 
 easterly direction.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SAINT PETEE'S IN THE ROCKS. 
 
 Those who knew Evendale in Yorkshire 
 at the date of our story would, if lovers 
 of the picturesque, gaze with admiration 
 at the fine scenery of that romantic valley. 
 The bold mountains, rising with precipitous 
 sides from the valley, through which a 
 torrent rushed with mighty force ; tender 
 plantations, hiding away in the gorges from 
 the winds, in strong contrast with clumps 
 of hardy trees on the summits, defying the 
 blasts; herds of cattle grazing on the sides; 
 white stone mills on the banks of the 
 stream ; comfortable-looking cottages, plea- 
 sant residences of small landed proprietors,
 
 SAINT PETERS IN THE ROCKS. 231 
 
 presenting altogether a combination not 
 often seen even in England. 
 
 The population was small and was 
 almost isolated from the rest of the world, 
 supplying very nearly all its own wants, 
 and forming a community, partly pastoral 
 and partly manufacturing, which regarded 
 those outside the valley as unworthy of 
 notice and with whom all contact should 
 be avoided. 
 
 The country carts carried the products 
 of the valley to the neighbouring towns, 
 and brought back such articles of consump- 
 tion as the inhabitants required ; but those 
 who accompanied them held as little com- 
 munication as possible with the "foreigners,'' 
 as they called them, and frightened the 
 inhabitants with terrible stories of the 
 attempt to cheat them out of their goods 
 or their money. 
 
 Leading out of the valley amongst the 
 mountains was a bridle road, exceedingly
 
 232 nature's nobility. 
 
 rugged and steep, chiefly used by the pack- 
 horses which collected the produce of the 
 looms of the mountaineers ; for, like watch- 
 making in Switzerland, every house was a 
 little manufactory, where a loom could be 
 heard at work all the day long. Some four 
 miles from the point where the bridle road 
 struck inward from the valley was a spot 
 still more secluded from the world than 
 the valley itself. It went by the name of 
 St. Peter's in the Rocks. 
 
 It nestled at the foot of precipitous 
 rocks, into the crevice of which the primi- 
 tive dwellings forming the village had been 
 built. Some, indeed, were on ledges of rock 
 high above the narrow road running through 
 it. The road itself was almost buried by 
 the overhanging crags. 
 
 The sun, even on the brightest day, only 
 peeped in by fitful gleams, and long before 
 sunset in the valley, the light had depart- 
 ed from this strange place. The popula-
 
 saint petee's in THE ROCKS. 233 
 
 tion was between 150 and 200, wholly 
 supporting themselves by the manufacture 
 of woollen cloths by the hand-loom. The 
 only place of worship, and that belonged 
 to the Primitive Methodists, was a small 
 room built in one of the crevices of rock, 
 into which scarcely any light penetrated. 
 
 There was no surgeon, no constable, no 
 shop of any kind, no public-house. The 
 only beverage was from a never-failing 
 spring of pure water, which, bursting out 
 of the rock at the upper end of the vil- 
 lage, was carried by a rough wooden con- 
 duit along the sides of the rocks, down the 
 steep roadway to the other end of the 
 village. At convenient points in its course, 
 to enable the villagers to get water, cis- 
 terns had been formed in the rocks, and 
 by a simple arrangement at the upper end, 
 the whole of the water could be diverted 
 so as to flush the street. Christian names 
 from the Bible were alone given to the
 
 234 natuee's mobility. 
 
 children. The language of the people 
 partook strongly of scriptural quotations. 
 The Sabbath was truly a day of rest, for 
 their Sunday meals were prepared on a 
 Saturday, and, beyond a boiling kettle, no 
 cooking was allowed on the Lord's Day. 
 
 The guiding spirit of this little commu- 
 nity was Ebenezer Thorneycroft, a weaver 
 like the rest, earning his daily bread by the 
 sweat of his brow. He was the minister 
 of the little chapel, he performed the 
 marriage services (whether they were legal 
 or not never troubled the simple minds 
 of these mountaineers), he christened the 
 children, and buried the dead. He was 
 the doctor, the veterinary surgeon, the con- 
 stable, the goaler, and the schoolmaster, 
 and finally, he was the court, without appeal, 
 in all cases, civil and criminal. 
 
 He was also the postmaster and letter- 
 cairier, and he repaired the village road 
 and the village conduit. For these multi-
 
 SAINT PETEE's IN THE EOCKS. 235 
 
 farious duties he levied a small annual 
 tribute upon all the inhabitants, which was 
 paid more punctually than any compulsory 
 rate in these days, and went by the name 
 of "Peter pence." Any delay in payment 
 of " Peter pence " was visited by the de- 
 faulter being dissociated from the others 
 until payment. 
 
 The produce of the looms was sold and 
 " foreign " articles were purchased through 
 the medium of Ebenezer. At the beginning 
 of each month he went round from house 
 to house, and each householder stated 
 what he wanted to sell and what he 
 wanted to buy, and then Ebenezer, making 
 a journey into the valley with packhorses, 
 handed the list to one of the trustworthy 
 carriers, who conveyed the products of 
 the valley to one of the large towns, 
 and he made the necessary sales and pur- 
 chases, and accounted to Ebenezer, who 
 distributed the money and goods amongst the
 
 236 natuke's nobility. 
 
 villagers who had entrusted their property 
 to him, and who never had cause to regret 
 their confidence, for he was as shrewd as 
 he was honest. 
 
 He was a very tall, powerful man of 
 about fifty, and cultivated, in opposi- 
 tion to the fashion of the day, a long 
 flowing beard, "which gave him a patriarchal 
 look. His abode was, like himself, eleva- 
 ted above the rest of the village, being 
 perched on a table rock some thirty feet 
 above the road, to which he ascended by 
 means of two ladders, one from the road 
 to a small landing place, and then from 
 the landing place to his house. This was 
 partly hollowed out of the rock and partly 
 projected from it. There were passages 
 from the house leading to lofty caverns 
 in the rock, lighted from openings above ; 
 one he used for domestic purposes, an- 
 other as a warehouse for goods, and a 
 third was the village gaol, to which was
 
 saint peter's in the rocks. 237 
 
 a separate entrance by a ladder, which was 
 placed in a crevice above and only let 
 down when necessary. 
 
 Tradition ran that in the days of " bloody 
 Maiy " more than one persecuted Protestant 
 had fonnd refuge in the house which 
 Ebenezer occupied. 
 
 On the 21st of August, Ebenezer, on 
 leaving his bed at sunrise, as was his 
 custom, wore a perturbed look. One of 
 the inhabitants was charged with theft. 
 Such a thing had not occurred for twenty 
 years. 
 
 The supposed criminal was a man called 
 Ephraim Norman. He had been before 
 his marriage a quiet, hard-working man, but 
 he had married a "foreign" woman, who 
 was sadly given to scolding, and frequent 
 quarrels arose between the two, which dis- 
 turbed the quiet of the little village, and 
 after living a life of bickering for two 
 years, she took her departure from the
 
 238 natuee's nobility. 
 
 place, much to the relief of her neighbours, 
 declaring that she would never return. 
 
 Her husband, left to himself, for they 
 had no family, seemed a soured, disap- 
 pointed man, and did but little work. He 
 sometimes left his cottage and was absent 
 for several days, and rumour said that during 
 that time h6 did not lead a very regular 
 life. 
 
 An old man, Obadiah Wilson, deaf and 
 very infirm — he was over 80 — lived alone 
 in a cottage in the village. He was re- 
 puted to be rich. There was a small garden 
 at the back of his cottage, in which the old 
 man reared vegetables, and when he was 
 too feeble to attend to it, he used to ask 
 Ephraim to do so, and paid him a trifle, 
 going to a shelf in his back room, where 
 lay an old brown leather lock-up purse, 
 and taking the money from it. 
 
 Ephraim had told his neighbours laugh- 
 ingly about this purse, so that they were
 
 SAINT PETEE'S IN THE ROCKS. 239 
 
 aware that he knew where the old man's 
 money was kept. 
 
 On the 8th of August, the old man 
 made his way with the help of two sticks 
 to a neighbour's house, and told them 
 that his purse had been burst open, and a 
 guinea taken from it, and produced the 
 damaged purse in proof. 
 
 Very early in the morning of that day 
 Ephraim Norman had been seen to leave 
 his cottage. He had a small bundle slung 
 by a stick over his left shoulder, and the 
 neighbours thought he was going away on 
 one of his usual absences. 
 
 Suspicion at once attached to him, for 
 it was easy to enter any cottage in the 
 village in the night by simply lifting the 
 latch, as no door was ever locked. 
 
 Ebenezer was at once informed, and in 
 answer to his question the old man stated 
 that he slept in the front room, that he 
 was very wakeful the night before, and
 
 240 natuke's nobility. 
 
 that he was sure no one had opened the 
 front door. 
 
 The room at the back opened into the 
 garden, and was the depository of his cook- 
 ing utensils and other matters used in his 
 little household, as well as of his purse, 
 and he said that the door was unlocked 
 all night. 
 
 In the garden were found the fresh foot- 
 marks of a man, and as Norman had not 
 locked up his cottage, these marks were 
 compared with a pair of boots found in his 
 room, and they corresponded exactly. 
 
 Ebenezer ascertained that Norman had 
 passed through the valley in the direction 
 of the town of Crosdale, and he afterwards 
 learnt that he had been seen by one of 
 the Evenclale carriers at a tavern in the 
 town the worse for liquor, where he had 
 taken out a purse containing a considerable 
 quantity of silver. 
 
 It was well known that he had been
 
 saint peter's in the rocks. 241 
 
 out of work for some time, and this fact 
 strengthened the suspicions against him. 
 
 It was not until the 15th of August 
 that Norman returned, and as he walked 
 up the street to his cottage he perceived 
 that the villagers looked at him in a very 
 strange manner, and that his associates 
 shunned him. 
 
 He was in the act of making a fire in 
 his front room when Ebenezer entered ; his 
 look was stern and solemn. 
 
 " Ephraim," he said, " I come to thee at 
 once to tell thee that thou art accused of 
 stealing a guinea from the purse of Oba- 
 diah Wilson, on the night of the 7th 
 August. 
 
 " Thou wast seen leaving the house very 
 early the next morning, and I must tell 
 thee plainly that thou wert seen on the 
 road to Crosdale, and afterwards in the town 
 itself, not very steady like, and had thy 
 purse full of silver. 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 nature's nobility. 
 
 " But, Ephraim, I must tell thee another 
 thing ; I found foot marks in the garden, 
 and they fitted the boots which thou left 
 behind thee — yon boots I mean," pointing 
 to a pair in a corner of the room. 
 
 " Now, man, wilt thou be tried by thy 
 neighbours or wilt thou leave the place 
 and never come back ? " 
 
 " Ebenezer," said Norman, looking him 
 full in the face, " I am not guilty. I was 
 in the garden — " 
 
 " Well, man," interposed Ebenezer, " if 
 thou art not guilty, and will be tried by 
 us, don't tell thy story to me, but tell it 
 in public before thy friends and neigh- 
 bours. When wouldst thou like to be 
 tried ?" 
 
 " The sooner the better," said Norman. 
 
 "W^ell, then, say the third day from 
 now, Ephraim, and I'll get my two dea- 
 cons to sit with me, and see that I don't 
 wrong thee, which God forbid."
 
 SAINT PETEE'S IN THE KOCKS. 243 
 
 It was on the morning of the eventful 
 third day that Ebenezer rose looking so 
 perturbed. He was anxious that the vil- 
 lage should retain its character of being 
 free from vice and crime. 
 
 The gaol was a gaol only in name, for it 
 was twenty years since it had been inhabited, 
 and then the pri soner was a " foreigner," 
 taken up on suspicion of poaching. Nor- 
 man had been at liberty since his interview 
 with Ebenezer, and his resolve to stand his 
 trial had had a favourable effect on his 
 neighbours. 
 
 At eight o'clock on the morning of the 
 18th August, Ebenezer, as the judge, took 
 his seat on a large boulder stone close to 
 the foot of his residence, where in fine 
 weather he preferred dispensing justice to 
 holding a court in the dark chapel. His 
 deacons, sedate-looking weavers, took their 
 seats one on each side of him, on rush- 
 bottomed chairs. The trial caused a great
 
 244 natuee's nobility. 
 
 sensation in the little place, a great number 
 attended, and many brought their children 
 to witness the proceedings as a kind of 
 " awful warning." 
 
 Ebenezer opened the court with a short 
 prayer, entreating the Almighty that their 
 verdict might be a just one, and that if 
 found guilty the accused might meet with 
 mercy and pardon from on High. 
 
 He then addressed Norman thus: — 
 
 "Ephraim, dost thou agree to be tried 
 by thy neighbours'? If thou dost not, go 
 thy way, and let us see thee no more. If 
 thou dost thou shalt have a fair trial; 
 what dost thou say 1 ?" 
 
 "I'll be tried by my neighbours," said 
 Ephraim, who stood with both hands resting 
 on the back of a rush-bottomed chair. 
 
 "Then, Ephraim," said Ebenezer, "I must 
 tell thee that thou art charged with enter- 
 ing the house of Obadiah Wilson on the 
 night of the 7th August, and stealing from
 
 SAINT PETEE'S IN THE ROCKS. 245 
 
 it a guinea, being part of some money in 
 a brown leather lock-up purse, lying on 
 the shelf of the back room, and the proofs 
 against thee will be, without making a long 
 story of it, that thou hast been heard to speak 
 about the purse and where it was put ; that 
 Obadiah counted the money before he went 
 to bed, locked up the purse, and put it 
 on the shelf in the back room, where he 
 always kept it, leaving the door unlocked ; 
 that he found the purse the next morning 
 with a piece pulled out of one side and a 
 guinea gone; that fresh footmarks, corre- 
 sponding with thy boots, were found close 
 to the back door; that thou wast seen to 
 leave the house very early that morning, 
 and did not return until the loth ; that 
 during thy absence thou wert seen at Cros- 
 dale the worse for liquor, and shewed thy 
 purse in a public tavern with a good deal 
 of money in it, which was not likely to 
 be thine, seeing that thou hast not been
 
 246 nature's nobility. 
 
 working for some weeks. What dost thou 
 say, Ephraim ; art thou guilty or not 
 
 guilty r 
 
 "Not guilty," said Norman, with a firm 
 voice. 
 
 Ebenezer then told Obadiah Wilson to 
 give evidence ; which he did sitting, on 
 account of his infirmities. 
 
 None of the witnesses were asked to 
 take an oath, the villagers in their sim- 
 plicity thinking that no oath was needed 
 to stamp with truth " a good man's word." 
 
 It was to the effect stated by Ebenezer, 
 and he produced the empty purse, which 
 shewed a hole in its side, as if a piece of 
 the leather, half as big again as a shilling 
 and nearly circular, had been pulled out 
 by the forcible action of the forefinger and 
 thumb. 
 
 Norman took up the purse and carefully 
 looked at it. He then asked the witness 
 if there were any rats in his house.
 
 SAINT PETEE'S IN THE ROCKS. 247 
 
 He replied he believed there were " a 
 two or three few." 
 
 He then asked the witness if the purse 
 had any money in it besides the guinea. 
 
 He replied that it was nearly full of 
 gold and silver pieces, and that he had 
 counted them before going to bed, and 
 that there were fifteen guineas then and 
 fourteen only in the morning. 
 
 Two neighbours then gave evidence that 
 Norman had several times spoken to them 
 about the purse, saying where it was kept. 
 
 The village shoemaker proved having 
 compared Norman's boots with fresh foot- 
 marks close to the back door, and that 
 they corresponded. 
 
 Norman did not ask him any questions 
 about the footmarks, but told him to look 
 at the purse carefully, and he having done 
 so, Norman asked him if he would say 
 that the hole had not been made by a 
 rat.
 
 248 natuee's NOBILITY. 
 
 The shoemaker looked at it again and 
 again, and at last, turning to Ebenezer, 
 he said that he should be sorry to say 
 positively that it had not been made by 
 a rat, as they were, he added, " a'most 
 as fond of leather as myself." 
 
 A man from the valley was called to 
 prove that he* saw Norman in a tavern 
 at Crosdale the worse for liquor, and that 
 he opened his purse, and he saw that it 
 contained a good deal of silver money. 
 
 The fact of Norman having been idle 
 for many weeks was notorious, and he 
 admitted it. 
 
 The case being concluded, Ebenezer 
 said, — 
 
 " Now, Ephraim, thou can'st or not as 
 thou likes give thy own account of the 
 matter. If thou think fit to hold thy 
 tongue it won't tell against thee, because 
 no accused man need say anything unless 
 he likes ; but if thou can'st clear up this
 
 saint peter's in the rocks. 249 
 
 matter, and God grant that thou may, 
 speak out, man, and we will all listen to 
 thee. 
 
 Ephraim, who possessed a good tall 
 figure and handsome face, though the lat- 
 ter was somewhat marked with trouble 
 and dissipation, raised himself to his full 
 height, and said, — 
 
 " Ebenezer and neighbours, I am not a 
 scholar, and can't say much, but what 
 little I do say is true. 
 
 " The shoemaker could not but say that 
 the hole in the purse might have been 
 made by a rat, and if it might have been 
 made by a rat it mightn't have been made 
 by me ; it could not have been made by 
 both, and I say that I did not make it, 
 and Obadiah says that there are rats in 
 his house, and that goes a long way, and 
 I've a right to be believed. 
 
 " It isn't because I've had a bad wife that 
 I am to be charged with stealing — that's
 
 250 natuke's nobility. 
 
 my misfortune not my fault — I've lived 
 among you all my life, and I ask you if 
 anyone can say I ever did a wrong thing 
 to man, woman, or child. (Cries of " No, 
 no.") I've been wronged myself, but I never 
 wronged a single body. 
 
 " Now, I'll tell you how the footmarks 
 and spending the money at Crosdale came 
 about. 
 
 " My wife had often said she'd run away, 
 and one day I found her rummaging about 
 the drawer where I kept my things, and 
 where I had a little money stowed away, 
 and I asked her what she was about, and 
 she couldn't look me in the face nor answer 
 me, but walked away. 
 
 " I put the money in my pocket ; it wasn't 
 very much, only between four and five 
 pounds — and as I was doing up Obadiah's 
 garden that day, I bethought me it would 
 be a good plan to hide it away. So I dug 
 a hole near the back door, and putting it
 
 saint peter's in the rocks. 251 
 
 in this bag (he pulled a bag from his 
 pocket, which had all the appearance of 
 having been for some time in the ground) 
 I put it in the hole and covered it up, 
 and there it was when my wife left me 
 three months ago. I took three pounds of 
 it out, as I was slack of work, and I'd only 
 about thirty shillings left when I went into 
 Obadiah's garden at daylight before I went 
 away on the 8th, and I took up the bag 
 and the money in it and went off to 
 Crosdale, and there I spent a good bit of 
 it. That's the way I got the money and 
 not by stealing. And it's the truth, I swear 
 before God, and maybe the guinea fell 
 out of the bag when the rat made the 
 hole, as the bag was full, and has tumbled 
 down through a crack in the boards, and 
 may be it'll be found some day." 
 
 Ephraim told his story in so manly and 
 straightforward a way, that there was con- 
 siderable applause when he had finished,
 
 252 natuee's nobility. 
 
 for he had been a favourite in the place 
 until he got married, and was greatly pitied 
 for having such a termagant of a wife, 
 and the women whispered amongst them- 
 selves that it would be a good thing if 
 she died, for then he could marry a 
 " valley " girl and be steady again. 
 
 Ebenezer land the deacons laid their 
 heads together for a few seconds, and then 
 Ebenezer, rising, said, — 
 
 " Ephraim, thou hast cleared thyself from 
 this charge. We are all three agreed that 
 thou art not guilty, and we shall be glad 
 to see thee mend thy ways and settle down 
 to work, and maybe the Almighty has 
 good things in store for thee yet." 
 
 About a year after the trial Obadiah 
 Wilson died, and on the rotten flooring of 
 the back room being taken up the guinea 
 was found underneath, lodged in a chink 
 in the rock, and would probably not have 
 been found had not the story of " Obadiah's
 
 saint peter's in the eocks. 253 
 
 guinea " been known to the workmen, who 
 made a careful search for it. 
 
 Oh, ye lawyers, tied and bound by pre- 
 cedent and usage, can ye find nothing in 
 this story to lead you to admit the possibility 
 that truth presented in rough words by a 
 man in fustian may be more conducive to 
 justice than well turned phrases and strange 
 hypotheses from a man in silk'? Why 
 should not fustian be able to give evi- 
 dence in his own favour if, feeling his 
 innocence, he wishes to make his own 
 statement of a transaction of which he 
 alone is able to give a satisfactory explan- 
 ation ?
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 A WOMAN OF COUEAGE. 
 
 As soon as . her husband left her, Mary 
 Basford lost no time in preparing to de- 
 part homeward. Although nearly ten 
 o'clock she determined to walk to Draw- 
 bridge that night. She dreaded the idea 
 of staying at Lumechester another night. 
 The sweet face of Lawrie and dark figure 
 of Green alike haunted her, and she 
 scarcely knew which harassed her the 
 most. 
 
 Bidding good-bye to the " next door," 
 and leaving some silver in return for her 
 occupation of the room, she made the best 
 of her way through the town and soon 
 gained the outskirts, where she was so
 
 A WOMAN OF COUKAGE. 255 
 
 fortunate as to overtake another Draw- 
 bridge woman, who had been spending the 
 day with her married daughter in Lume- 
 chester, and the lively chat of the other 
 about her daughter, and how good her 
 husband was to her, drew off Mrs. Bas- 
 ford's thoughts from herself, and she reached 
 home in better spirits than when she 
 started. 
 
 She had the consolation of knowing that 
 her husband was not in the hands of the 
 "runners," and that she might hope to re- 
 join him in three or four days. 
 
 After thanking a kind Providence for 
 his mercies to herself and imploring him 
 to watch over and preserve her husband, 
 she lay down on her bed and slept soundly 
 until daylight, when she set earnestly to 
 work to comply with her husband's request 
 to get their things together, and go to 
 Ebenezer Thorneycroft's at St Peter's in the 
 Eocks as soon as possible.
 
 256 nature's nobility. 
 
 There were many things she had to do. 
 She knew that her hnsband had neither 
 clothes nor linen, except those which he had 
 on when he last saw her in Wellgate Conrt, 
 and the idea of going to St. Peter's in 
 the Rocks without a proper supply of both 
 was not to be thought of. 
 
 Her husband and she had spent a couple 
 of days with Ebenezer Thomey croft about 
 a year before. 
 
 The two had matters to arrange in rela- 
 tion to the Primitive Methodist Connexion, 
 and she had noticed how very cleanly in 
 their persons and habits the villagers were, 
 owing probably to the plentiful supply of 
 pure water to the village. 
 
 Then she was anxious, under the circum- 
 stances, not to leave any little debts unpaid, 
 and to put her house in order, so that on 
 their return, if they did return, it might 
 look clean and comfortable. 
 
 All this occupied her the whole day,
 
 A WOMAN OF COURAGE. 257 
 
 and she determined to start the following 
 morning. 
 
 But how to get to St. Peter's was a 
 difficult question to answer. She must make 
 her way by cross-country roads, where 
 there were no waggons or coaches of which 
 she could avail herself. 
 
 It was a long journey, and she had to 
 carry a large bag, containing her own and 
 her husband's things, and her heart almost 
 sank within her as she thought of the 
 task before her. 
 
 But Mary Basford was not a woman to 
 be daunted by difficulties or dangers. She 
 thought it possible that she might fall in 
 with her husband on the road ; she felt 
 certain that he would take a roundabout 
 route, bearing gradually round to the 
 north-east in the direction of Crosdale, 
 and that was her own destination, before 
 she could hit upon the road leading to 
 Saint Peter's. 
 
 vol. i. s
 
 258 nature's nobility. 
 
 She went amongst her neighbours, and 
 enquired if they knew of anyone who 
 was going with a cart in the direction of 
 Crosdale, and after a good deal of trouble 
 she found that a butcher at Drawbridge 
 was going to fetch some sheep which 
 he had bought from a farmer a mile 
 or two from Crosdale, and she bargained 
 with him to take herself and bag that 
 far. 
 
 The butcher came to the door at day- 
 light. He had arranged some clean straw 
 at the bottom of the cart, and put a chair 
 in it for Mrs. Basford. Her bag (in which 
 was hidden away one of little George's 
 jackets by way of memorial) was put on 
 the clean straw, and they started, with 
 every promise of fine weather, in the 
 direction of Crosdale. In a basket she 
 had provided a substantial meal both for 
 herself and the butcher, together with a 
 for water, as she knew there was
 
 A WOMAN OF COUKAGE. 259 
 
 little chance of getting any refreshment 
 on the road. 
 
 Many a jolt and shake had Mrs. Basford 
 to undergo as they traversed cross-country 
 roads, in some places little better than 
 bridle roads ; sometimes getting into a deep 
 rut, which required all the strength of the 
 butcher, added to that of his horse and 
 sometimes that of Mrs. Basford also, to get 
 the wheel out of it ; sometimes fording a 
 stream, with the water up to the horse's 
 belly, and at one place being nearly swept 
 away by the strength of the current ; then 
 a bit of road over rocky ground, where the 
 cart seemed as if it would be battered and 
 banged all to pieces ; then coming to a track 
 over a morass, where the horse sank to 
 to his fetlocks in the soft slimy peat, and 
 could scarcely drag the cart at all. 
 
 However, after many hours' exertion, and 
 sundry declarations by the butcher that he 
 would rather go fifty miles round than
 
 260 nature's nobility. 
 
 come the same way back, and that he rather 
 thought he had got a " Yorkshire bite " in 
 the purchase of the sheep, they arrived at 
 the farm where the sheep were. 
 
 The butcher thanked Mrs. Basford very 
 heartily for the good meal she had pro- 
 vided for him, without which he^ would 
 have been without food all day, and re- 
 fused to accept the proffered fare for the 
 ride. 
 
 When Mrs. Basford shouldered the bag 
 to start on her way to Crosdale she felt 
 how great a kindness she had received 
 from the butcher in giving her a seat in 
 his cart. 
 
 She thankfully walked into Cros- 
 dale, and it was not until she got 
 fairly into the town that she felt the diffi- 
 culty of her position. 
 
 She did not know a single person there, 
 and it was getting late. She was tired, 
 hungry, and sleepy. She sat down on the
 
 A WOMAN OF COURAGE. 261 
 
 steps of the Parish Church, and cried from 
 the feeling of desolation which crept over 
 her. She remained there, not knowing 
 what to do, until the clock struck nine, 
 when she shook herself together, and rising 
 from the cold stone determined to seek a 
 lodging for the night somewhere. 
 
 She asked several decently dressed women 
 where she could get a lodging. 
 
 They all said they did not know. 
 
 On putting the question the last time a 
 woman of bloated appearance overheard her, 
 and said, — 
 
 "I know of a place where thou can'st 
 stay the night." 
 
 "Is it clean and respectable," asked Mrs. 
 Basford. 
 
 " None better i'th' town," replied the 
 woman, and leading the way Mrs. Basford 
 followed her into a narrow street leading 
 off the main street, in the latter of which 
 a cattle fair had been held that day.
 
 262 nature's nobility. 
 
 Readers accustomed to the amenities of 
 a well regulated town will be startled to 
 hear that a cattle fair had been held in 
 the principal street of a large town, for 
 such Crosdale was, and that it was held 
 there weekly. 
 
 But manorial rights are sacred things 
 in these modern days. They are sig- 
 nificant of power, the power of property, 
 the feudalism of the past, and, exercised 
 as they should be, and in most cases 
 are, they represent the grand seigneur and 
 his vassals, minus the vassalage and 
 vexatious demands. 
 
 Civilization marches behind old Time, 
 and holds the handle whilst he wields the 
 scythe. 
 
 A bride is no longer snatched from the 
 arms of her expectant husband. A widow 
 no longer mourns, in addition to the greater 
 loss, the confiscation of the favourite horse, 
 and best cow, and fattest sheep.
 
 A WOMAN OF COUKAGE. 2 60 
 
 Upon fair days the main street of Cros- 
 dale was almost impassable — disorder, dirt, 
 bad language, and brute force reigned su- 
 preme. 
 
 Turning the handle of a street door the 
 woman called out, 
 
 " Miles, here's a lodger for thee." 
 
 A man came downstairs, and looking at 
 Mrs. Basford in an impudent manner, asked 
 how long she wanted to stay. 
 
 "Only one night," said she, "I'm on my 
 way to join my husband at Evendale." 
 
 " Thou can'st have a bed, woman," he 
 said, and shewed her upstairs into a room 
 with a low roof and uninviting bed. 
 
 Mrs. Basford instinctively disliked the 
 man and the place, but she had no alter- 
 native but to remain. 
 
 She said that she had had no food since 
 noon, and would be glad of something to 
 eat. 
 
 He told her she must come downstairs
 
 264 natuke's nobility. 
 
 if she wanted supper, and she followed 
 him into a badly lighted room, wheie he 
 told her to sit down and he would fetch 
 her something. 
 
 There were two men in the room and 
 a dissipated-looking female. The latter 
 rose and tried to enter into conversation, 
 but Mrs. * Basford shrank from her. 
 
 It appeared from the conversation of 
 the men that they had brought some cattle 
 for sale in the market, and having dis- 
 posed of them, they were going home next 
 morning early in the light cart in which 
 they had driven over, and would pass near 
 the southerly end of Evendale, to which 
 they contemptuously alluded as " a stupid 
 old place." 
 
 The landlord brought in the supper, con- 
 sisting of cold meat and bread, and which 
 looked so little tempting that Mrs. Basford, 
 hungry as she was, felt inclined to put it 
 aside.
 
 A WOMAN OP COURAGE. 265 
 
 After eating all the bread and a portion 
 of the meat, she rose to seek her bed- 
 room, and at the foot of the stairs met 
 the woman who had brought her there, 
 and who was the wife of Miles, and say- 
 ing " Good night," was about to go up- 
 stairs, when the woman asked her where 
 she was going next day. 
 
 At first she felt inclined not to tell her, 
 but thinking for a moment of the difficulty 
 of reaching Evendale on foot, and the 
 conversation of the two men, she was 
 induced to say where she was going, 
 and that she scarcely knew how to get 
 there. 
 
 " Why," said the woman, with a wicked 
 look, which Mrs. Basford was too tired and 
 sleepy to notice, " arn't Bill Harris and 
 Dick Jones going nigh Evendale first thing 
 to-morrow in their cart, and they'll take 
 thee for a trifle." 
 
 Mrs. Basford expressed her thanks, and
 
 266 nature's nobility. 
 
 said she would feel obliged if she would 
 ask the men and let her know. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards the woman 
 came into her room and said the men 
 would take her for half-a-crown, which 
 she gladly agreed to pay, and they would 
 start at six o'clock. 
 
 Mrs. Basford had some misgiving about 
 the men, and asked the woman if they 
 were " decent men," and being assured that 
 they were, she felt content and went to 
 bed. 
 
 At six o'clock she was ready. The light 
 two-wheeled cart was brought to the door, 
 and she got in at the back, where there 
 were two side seats, the two men sitting 
 in the front. 
 
 Mrs. Basford was in hopes that she 
 would get to the foot of Evendale about 
 noon at the latest. 
 
 Before leaving Crosdale the men called 
 at a low tavern in the outskirts of the
 
 A WOMAN OF COURAGE. 267 
 
 town and remained some time, Mrs. Bas- 
 ford at their request holding the reins. 
 
 When they came out they were accom- 
 panied by the landlord, who offered to 
 " take five to four against the brindled 
 dog, and to stand even on the black un,' r 
 and after much talk the bets were taken in 
 crowns, and the men got in and drove off. 
 
 Mrs. Basford gathered from the conver- 
 sation that a great dog fight was to come 
 off on the landlord's premises in a few 
 days, and she began to feel rather uncom- 
 fortable as to the character of her com- 
 panions, especially as their talk was inter- 
 mingled with oaths, and she perceived 
 that, early as it was, they had been drink- 
 ing spirits. They drove but slowly, except 
 that now and then, when they came to a 
 very steep descent, they would urge their 
 horse down it at its utmost speed, as if 
 utterly regardless of their own necks or 
 Mrs. Basford's.
 
 268 natuee's nobility. 
 
 They made a stoppage at every road side 
 tavern, urging Mrs. Basford to join them 
 in their potations, which she always de- 
 clined, while at last she saw they were on 
 the verge of being mad drunk, and became 
 alarmed as they frequently turned round 
 to her and, uttered expressions incoherent 
 from drink. 
 
 She would have got out if she could, 
 but on her requesting them to stop and 
 let her do so, they laughed loudly and 
 whipped on their horse at a fast pace until 
 they got amongst the hills which betokened 
 the entrance to Evendale. 
 
 One of them then got off the front seat, 
 and sat on the vacant side seat opposite 
 to Mrs. Basford. 
 
 This greatly increased her alarm. They 
 were both powerful men, and there was 
 not a house in sight, and the sun was 
 sinking fast below the horizon. 
 
 " Well, Missus," hiccuped out the man
 
 A WOMAN OF COURAGE. 269 
 
 who had seated himself opposite to her, 
 " pay thy fare, wilt thou ; we are nigh 
 the place where thou wilt have to get 
 out." 
 
 Mrs. Basford drew her purse from her 
 pocket with fear and trembling, and took 
 out the amount, which she gave him, and 
 immediately returned the purse to her 
 pocket. 
 
 " Well, thou need not be in such a 
 hurry," said the man, " to pocket thy purse 
 again ; let's have a look inside," and with 
 that held out his hand. 
 
 Mrs. Basford replied firmly, 
 
 " That's my husband's purse, and this is 
 his bag," pointing to it, " and thou shalt 
 have neither as long as I've life in my 
 body." 
 
 " Here's a go, Bill," said the man to 
 his companion ; " she won't let me look 
 inside her purse." 
 
 " D her eyes," said the other. " Take
 
 270 natuke's nobility. 
 
 it, man, and with that he pulled up his 
 horse. 
 
 " Pull her out o'th' cart." 
 
 The one opposite to her stood up and 
 seized her by the neck, whilst the other man 
 laid hold of her legs, and they were in the 
 act of dragging her out of the cart, when 
 a man in a black rabbit-skin cap darted 
 like lighting from the sidepath, and with 
 one blow from a hedge-stake felled the mis- 
 creant in the road to the earth, and with 
 a second blow sent the other senseless over 
 the edge of the cart, head downwards. 
 To make all safe he repeated the blows, 
 and stretching out his arms lifted the 
 half-fainting woman out of the cart. 
 
 It was Richard Basford. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED BY THE CHARING CROSS PUBLISHING COMPANY, LIMITED, 
 5, FRIAR STREET, BROADWAY, LONDON, E.C