L I B RA RY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVER5ITY 
 
 or ILLl NOI5 
 
 B7(&62t 
 V. I
 
 IRKDALE; 
 
 THE ODD HOUSE IN THE HOLLOW. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 IlUvDALE; 
 
 THE ODD HOUSE IN THE HOLLOW. 
 
 A. LANCASHIRE STORY 
 
 BENJAMIN BRIERLEY, 
 
 Author (if "Tail's ami Sketches of Lancashire Life." " Chronicles of Wavi 
 " The Layrock of Lansleyside." &c. 
 
 TN TWO YOLS.-VOT.. T. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE ST., STI^AND. 
 1SG5. 
 
 [^All rif/htx reserved.]
 
 JOHN Cini,DH AND SON, TRINTErtS.
 
 8^^ 
 
 TO MY UNCLE, 
 
 RICHARD TAYLOR, OF LEIGH, 
 
 LANCASHIRE, 
 
 WHOM I UKGAKD AS 
 
 THE " MENTOK '^ OF MY EAKLY YOUTH, 
 
 1 13E(i MOST GKATEEULLY TO INSCKIBE THIS STOKY. 
 
 THE AUTHOK. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 May, I860.
 
 IRIOALE; 
 
 THE ODD HOUSE IN THE HOLLOW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Why was it called the " Odd House ?" 
 It was not the only detached dwelHng in 
 Irkdale. There was the " Crows' Nest," 
 "Round-Thorn," and " White- Gate " cot- 
 tages that appeared to have nothing to do 
 with each, or any other ; but nestled them- 
 selves cozily on bank or in nook, with garden 
 and orchard around them, as if it was no 
 business of the world's to pry into their 
 situations, or meddle with their affairs. There 
 were other dwellings of less pretensions 
 than these, that appeared inclined to lead a
 
 :i IRKDALE. 
 
 solitary existence. Diminutive thatched cot- 
 tages they were, shrinking behind tall fences, 
 as if they were afraid of being seen, and only 
 indicating their whereabouts by the cheery 
 cloudlets of smoke which they occasionally 
 spouted from their nipples of chimneys. 
 
 But the " Odd House " had other claims 
 to singularity than its merely being isolated 
 from its neighbours. The occupants of this 
 dwelling were odd in their persons and habits ; 
 and the life led by both fowl and quadruped 
 attached to the place Avas quite in keeping 
 with everything besides. The dog, that shun- 
 ned companionship with its fellows, and made 
 a hermitage of its kennel, had a pecuhar bark, 
 and carried its tail after a fashion that no other 
 dog would imitate. The cat, with very odd no- 
 tions of dishonesty, never stole anything but 
 what was intended for its food, and which had 
 been placed, as pussy supposed, as much out of 
 its way as possible. The donkey, a fine 
 rough-coated fellow, that divided its time be- 
 twixt drawing very small loads of coals and 
 timber, and carrying little boys in turns
 
 IRKDALE. 8 
 
 round its pasture, had an odd way of exhibit- 
 ing the stupidity characteristic of its species ; 
 as it would never give way to any argument 
 except good feeding and kind treatment ; con- 
 sequently held the stick and goad (for who 
 ever thought of driving a donkey with a whip?) 
 so completely at defiance, that he would in- 
 variably betray an apparent disposition to 
 sleep on the slightest application of either 
 weapon. The pigeons would not have been 
 allowed to consort with birds of their feather, 
 could then' owner have netted over some few 
 square miles of airy space ; but must have 
 produced and reproduced among themselves 
 until they had become quite a distinct race of 
 pigeons. The poultry were quite an odd- 
 looking family, and consisted of four ducks 
 and a lame drake, that when they could not 
 find a gap in the garden hedge through which 
 to make their escape to the river, contented 
 themselves with navigating a tub which had 
 been let into the ground and filled with water 
 for their especial aquatic use. These shared 
 their owner's attentions with some half-dozen
 
 4 IRKDALE. 
 
 hens of an uncertain breed and age, together 
 with a cock, who had forgotten how to fight 
 from long isolation from an antagonist, and 
 whose crowing sounded like an attempted imi- 
 tation of the occasional salutations of the don- 
 key. An odd pig occupied a curiously-construct- 
 ed sty, which had been fonued out of any kind 
 of mateiials that could be laid hold of, from an 
 old loom post to a tub's ribs, and so jointed 
 with ropes, mud, and mortar, as to defy archi- 
 tectural imitation. This pig divided its time 
 betwixt eating and sleeping, — never seeming 
 to desire anything in the shape of mental or 
 physical recreation, but ate and dozed, grunt- 
 ed and snored, until within a few days of 
 its becoming bacon. When this pig departed 
 life, and followed its ancestors to the hooks in 
 the kitchen, it would be succeeded by another, 
 and, singularly enough, every generation of 
 pigs appeared to inherit the faculties and 
 habits of their predecessors, and got themselves 
 into condition for family consumption with 
 most philosophical resignation to the purposes 
 of swinish life.
 
 IRKDALE. 5 
 
 But the head of the household was, per- 
 haps, the most singular being connected with 
 it. He was odd — very odd ! Favoured by 
 nature with a sound constitution, enclosed in 
 a robust frame, Jacob Robinson was not in 
 some respects the strong and hardy man he 
 appeared to be. He was known to have 
 " little soft places " somevrhere about him 
 that contrasted oddly with his otherwise harsh 
 and stubborn disposition. He was very self- 
 opinionated ; would sooner sit the fire out than 
 give way to an argument, though had any one 
 flattered him by seeming to acquiesce in his re- 
 marks, they might gradually have led him 
 back over all the ground he had disputed. 
 Whenever his feelings were appealed to he 
 was sure to be concpiered, and would some- 
 times, Avhen on the point of wishing an anta- 
 gonist transported to the furthest nook of a 
 certain "coal-hole," drop the intended ex- 
 pression, through the influence of a well- 
 timed word aimed at his better nature. 
 
 Jacob was once by trade a Aveaver ; and 
 it has since been his boast that he never wove
 
 O IRKDALE. 
 
 plain sarcenet at less than a shilling per yard.* 
 When the first penny Avas taken out of the 
 twelve, he threw down his "picking-peg" with 
 the sworn determination never to take it up 
 again. Jacob kept his word. He gave up 
 weaving, and commenced business as a weaver's 
 joiner. In his new occupation our friend 
 excelled ere he had followed it more than 
 a year, having " crapped " a little, as he ex- 
 pressed himself, before ; and by frequent 
 small purchases had got together a stock of 
 tools that were a credit to the trade. It was 
 not long before he had secured all the work 
 of the kind required in Irkdale, as there was 
 no other resident joiner, weavers having pre- 
 viously been obliged to take their jobs to other 
 of the villaQ-es about. 
 
 o 
 
 ■-■■ This would be about 40 years ago. The great 
 silU-weavers' strike, Avhich took place in the year 
 182G, was brouglit about by an attempted reduction 
 in the price paid for weaving plain sarcenet. It was 
 held to be impossible to earn a living at less than a 
 stilling per yard ; and unheard-of jirivations were 
 endured sooner than that a reduction should be sub- 
 mitted to. The same kind of fabric is now being 
 woven at less than & fourth of the price then paid.
 
 IRKDALE. 7 
 
 It was a study to see " Jakey " at his 
 Avoik ; never appearing in a hurry, but taking 
 everything as coolly as if it had been merely 
 pastime. Had any one attempted to " push " 
 him with a job, he would lay down his saw, 
 or plane, or hammer, whichever he might be 
 using at the time ; turn his back to the 
 bench, and, putting his arms akimbo, would 
 say — " I reckon if God o' Meety had t' mak' 
 th' woald o'er ogen, sich like chaps as thee 
 'ud nobbut alleaw him abeawt two days for 
 t' do it in." Then he would resume his work 
 after having tantalized his client to the utmost 
 stretch of patience ; and the shavings would 
 begin to curl again, or the saw would whistle 
 through the plank, or the hammer would 
 operate upon a nail-head as if the blows were 
 timed by music. * 
 
 * It is related of the person who " sat " for tlie 
 portrait of Jacob Robinson, that on one occasion being 
 importuned by a neighbour to repair a shuttle when 
 he had other pressing work in hand, he agreed to 
 oblige his friend on certain conditions. The weaver 
 was a noted fiddler, and the conditious were that he 
 should fetch his instrument and play upon it all the
 
 8 IRKDALE. 
 
 And what odd notions possessed the 
 cranium of our eccentric friend ! By some 
 people he Avas set down as an Atheist ; but 
 this imputation he woukl have stoutly denied, 
 had he cared for convincing any one to the 
 contrary. He prided himself, however, in 
 being unaccountable in this respect, and any- 
 thing by which he could mystify his neigh- 
 bom's, regarding his thoughts and feelings in 
 a religious point of view, he would readily 
 make use of. Whether he was a Tory or 
 Radical in politics was much disputed; for 
 at one time he would denounce " Kingcraft," 
 and at another decry reform; or Avhat he 
 pretended to dislike most — " progress." Pro- 
 gress ! There was not such a thing to Jacob, 
 -^not in its accepted sense. Progress was to 
 him dissolution. Aught that tended to dis- 
 turb the old system of jogging through life 
 
 time the joiner was at work upon the shuttle. The 
 weaver complied ; the fiddle was produced, aud for 
 about two hours (the time occupied in repairing tlie 
 shuttle) the little workshop was as merry as a tap- 
 room at a Lancashire " wakes."
 
 IRKDALE. 9 
 
 without the necessity of pushing others aside, 
 was sure to lead to social and national ruin. 
 He could never be prevailed upon to touch a 
 daily newspaper, if such a thing by any possi- 
 bility could have found its way into Irkdale. 
 It was " trumpery," " balderdash," fit for 
 nobody to read only such as were running 
 the world a race, and wished to be foremost 
 in everything. Newspapers in his "yard- 
 wide days," as he would term the period of 
 his earliest acquaintance with manhood, tuerc 
 newspapers ; not like those of the present 
 day, made up of lies to be contradicted by 
 succeeding publications. 
 
 Besides, people could read too much, 
 Jacob would often maintain ; but few in his 
 circumstances had read more than he. Odd 
 books were his favourites, however — picked 
 up where no one knew — old rough-calf-bound 
 volumes that were odorous of damp and de- 
 cay, but which opened with difficulty, not- 
 withstanding their old age. These books he 
 might have been found poring over any even- 
 ing in the week, except Saturday, when he
 
 10 IRKDALE. 
 
 would take his week's information to the 
 kitchen nook of the " Jolly Jumper," there to 
 be dispensed over his usual three pints of 
 "spigot milk," to such of the company as 
 might choose to listen to his discourse. And 
 few there were in Irk dale who did not look 
 upon our friend as an oracle on matters of 
 politics and social economy, however they 
 might disagree in their estimate of his reli- 
 gious principles. AVhen he pronounced Cob- 
 den to be a " thief an' a murtherer, ut owt t' 
 have his neck weel lapt wi' summut strunger 
 nor clewkin," the whole kitchen applauded 
 till the suspended ale-cans rung again ; and 
 when he said " James Watt wur Sattin 
 (Satan) lett'n lose," and that the first puff of 
 a steam-engine was a signal for " heigh, lads, 
 heigh ! an' th' owd lad tak thoose ut ha' no' 
 strength enoogh to keep up i'th' race," people 
 wondered if he had obtained his insight 
 into such things through some supernatural 
 agency. 
 
 " To th' brimstone-an'-traycle shop wi' 'cm 
 a ! " he would sometimes say ; " factories an'
 
 IRKDALE, 11 
 
 railroads, an' a' such ne'er- do-good prowt. 
 If I mut have ni}' will, I'd ha' sich a blaze as 
 ther hasno bin sin' owd George o' Jammie's 
 barn wur ov a foyer; for I'd mat' a hally- 
 blash of every factory i' Englandshire. Cotton 
 be hanged ! what dun we want wi' cotton ? 
 I ha' no'" Avorn a yard o' calico sin' I're ta'en 
 eawt o' my cleawts ; an' I never shall wear 
 any, beawt they puttn me in a calico coffin 
 shirt when I'm deead. An' what's this bother 
 abeawt a good time comin', if Ave'n Avait a bit 
 lunger ? We may wait, an' wait till we getn 
 th' skin off us finger-nails, but good times '11 
 come no mooar. They'n never bin nowt to 
 brag on sin' childer gan o'er pilhn' turmits 
 wi' ther teeth, an' rentin' a' ther clooas off 
 ther backs wi' blackberryin'. At one time, if 
 folk could ha' getn ther hoides stufft wi' por- 
 ritch, an' a two-thri ale-sops neaw-an'-agen, 
 an' could ha' keawrt reawnd th' ha'stone ov a 
 winter's neet, tellin' boggart-tales till ther 
 }urc (hair) had bin like a bunch o' skeAAcrs 
 ()' ther yeds, they'd ha' bin as happy as th' 
 neets wur lung; but neaAV — 'od sink it.
 
 12 
 
 IRKDALK. 
 
 Mally ! bring me another pint afore I brast 
 wi' thinkin'." 
 
 At home, Jacob was a kind of domestic 
 king. He ruled the household — not with a 
 rod of iron — but with a very close hand. 
 ■Contradiction he would not tolerate at all ; 
 and opposition he treated as a species of 
 mutiny that must be punished with blows, or 
 something equally severe. He, however, mo- 
 dified his regime as his only child grew up, 
 until, at length, a grunt and a smothered 
 growl became the only expressions by which 
 he sought to convey the displeasure he felt at 
 any violation of the domestic discipline. The 
 dangerous })roportions to which his son Dick 
 had grown was in all probability the chief 
 cause of Jakey's relaxing the temper of his 
 rule. The former's hand was getting too 
 much like a shoulder of mutton to be con- 
 templated with satisfaction by any one who 
 might be inclined to settle a rough point with 
 its owner; and the noses of his clogs had 
 somehow a sort of bull-dogish grin about 
 them, as if they augured danger to an anta-
 
 IllKDALE. 13^ 
 
 gonist when they chose to be froHcsome. 
 Dick, however, had so much good sense added 
 to fihal respect as to induce him not to 
 quarrel with his father, if he could by any 
 reasonable degree of submission avoid it ; and 
 the latter, whenever he thought proper to 
 assert his prerogative, would do so in a man- 
 ner that permitted his retiring with dignity if 
 unsuccessful. He still held " Old Nanny" hi 
 conjugal subjection, though he would permit 
 her to let off her bottled wrath at such times 
 as he stayed too long with his tavern com- 
 panions, and came home eloquent with mu- 
 sical admiration of "Bonnie Jean." 
 
 Of a' the airts the wind could blaw, 
 
 He dearly liked the west, 
 For there the bonnie lassie lived, 
 
 The lassie he lo'ed best. 
 
 And Nanny would say he might " goo to th' 
 Avest, an' tak' th' snicket with him " if he 
 liked, for aught she cared ; which was a kind 
 of thunder-shower to the dame, that would 
 brighten up her weather for many a day to 
 follow.
 
 14 IRKDALE. 
 
 Tims the " Odd House " preserved its 
 quaint character for many years, and would in 
 all probability have still retained it, had it not 
 been for the occurrence of an event which will 
 be detailed in future chapters, and which our 
 odd friend's association with the convivialities 
 of the "Jolly Jumper" was the means of 
 bringing about.
 
 15 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 The "Jolly Jumper" originally sprang 
 from the kernel of a " hush shop," * holding 
 its licence direct from " Owd Clinker," the 
 blacksmith, until, branching out into the jolly 
 proportions which the house at the present 
 time assumes, it consented to pay a yearly 
 contribution to the revenue of King William 
 
 * The term "hiisli shop" is applied to houses in 
 which an illicit trade in beer, &c., is carried on : 
 " hush " signifying that the company frequenting sucli 
 places were expected to conduct themselves as orderly 
 as possible, that no alarm might be given to parties in 
 authority. The banks of the Irk and the Medlock 
 have been noted for these resorts, which for a long 
 period held the constable and the exciseman at de- 
 fiance. Bamford, in his " Passages in the Life of 
 a Eadical," humorously describes a scene he once; 
 witnessed in a "hush shop ; " and the incidents there 
 related may be taken as an average specimen of 
 what generally occurs at such places during the ca- 
 rousals of the company.
 
 IG IRKDALE. 
 
 the Foiirtli, ami thus give an honest and legi- 
 timate countenance to the Avorld. jMatters 
 became changed on this assumption of legality. 
 The "Jumper" considered himself entitled 
 to make a noise in the neighbourhood, and 
 prepared the lungs of his estabhshment ac- 
 cordingly. No longer the smith sang in 
 whispers, but roared as did his smithy-fire, or 
 rune: out his notes as if thev were strokes 
 upon his anvil. No longer did Jacob Robin- 
 son curse the government up the chimney, 
 as if afraid of his denunciations reaching inter- 
 ested ears, but proclaimed in open kitchen his 
 alienation from king-craft, priest-ci'aft, cotton- 
 craft, iron-craft, and everything else which he 
 imagined stood in the way of a " gradely owd 
 fashint plan o' lettin' folk do th' best they con 
 for one another." No longer did "Swinkey'* 
 dance in his stocking feet until he had httle 
 occasion for garters, but made fire fly with his 
 clogs, as he rolled, and kicked, and capered on 
 the floor to " Clinker's " " diddling " of the 
 " College " hornpipe. Everybody grew noisy 
 on a sudden as soon as the sign went up that
 
 IRKDALE. 17 
 
 told people they might get " drunk on the 
 premises," mider the shelter of an Act of 
 Parliament ; and thus the " Jolly Jumper," 
 whose effigy was portrayed on the sign- 
 board as engaged in the exploit of vault- 
 ing over a turnpike, that from the perspective 
 appeared to be considerably higher than a 
 neighbouring haystack, sprang into a full-blown 
 alehouse with all the suddenness of a magical 
 creation. 
 
 The house stood as if purposely placed there 
 for a man-trap, as few could pass it who were 
 possessed of the " price of a pint," so invit- 
 ingly did it nestle itself in a sly bend of the 
 road, up to the very eyes in garden shrubs, 
 through which on winter evenings a cheerful 
 light would twinkle, and about whose windows 
 in sunmier days the honeysuckles would be 
 creeping, as if they wished to reach the door 
 and shake hands with the company, or dip their 
 thirsty petals in the foam of a newly-filled 
 " pint." Jolly honeysuckles ! Then the bed- 
 room curtains would be fluttering out of the 
 windows, like fairies waving their pocket-
 
 18 IRKDALE. 
 
 handkerchiefs, and so suggestive were they of 
 sweet repose, that the traveller would feel 
 drowsy at the sight of them, and bespeak a 
 bed before he had thought about his dinner, 
 Happy traveller ! And the interior, too — the 
 bar, if bar it could be called, that was half 
 dairy, half pantry, chalked over with what 
 would be to some people unintelligible hiero- 
 glyphics, but which to others were indisputable 
 proofs that they had gone further in debt than 
 they had intended. This apparently inex- 
 haustible repository of good things no one 
 presumed to enter, except the landlord and his 
 jollier half, and was therefore held as sacred 
 from the intrusions of even the most unscru- 
 pulous customer, as if it had stood within an 
 enchanted circle, and was guarded by an 
 invisible power. You might have peeped 
 through the window, and beheld the phalanx 
 of stone bottles that studded the floor like so 
 many bloated " ninepins," for wooden barrels 
 were never allowed to pollute the nectar which 
 our " Boniface " served to his customers ; 
 .^nd you might have gazed longingly at the
 
 IRKDALE. 19 
 
 flitches of bacon wliicli hardly ever ceased 
 swmging, or the cheese, shining with a rich 
 mellowness from between the folds of the 
 white diaper cloths that enveloped it ; bnt 
 there your acquaintance must have ceased, 
 unless you chose to order a feast prepared 
 from the dainties you beheld. Within that 
 sanctum no tavern dandy would be allowed 
 to switch his cane, and talk soft nonsense to 
 some greedy-eared Phillis, who knew not the 
 count of her gaping admirers. " Johnny 
 Smithels " would have helped him over the 
 half-door before he had time to imitate the 
 patron genius of the establishment, by taking 
 a dignified leap in that direction. Fuddle 
 Avhere the chairs are strong, and the table legs 
 as stubborn "as loom-posts, — Avhere nothing has 
 so much chance of being broken as your head, 
 and where the noise you make won't offend 
 delicate ears. That Avas Johnny's constant 
 injunction. Bar-parlour " frippery " and 
 cigar commentation were elements that found 
 no favour beneath the roof of the " Jolly 
 Jumper."
 
 20 IRKDALE. 
 
 The kitchen belonging to the estabhsh- 
 ment was the favourite rendezvous of thirsty 
 villagers. It had been added to the house at 
 the time the licence was obtained, and now 
 spread its whitened floor like a huge table- 
 cloth that a kiln of a fireplace tlirew shadows 
 over at even, and on which the sun made 
 dreamy-looking panoramas at noontide. Here 
 white-aproned lovers of ale and merriment 
 used to congregate when the shuttles had 
 ceased to rattle, and the good wife had cleared 
 away the remnants of the porridge supper; 
 and right meny and chatty and noisy they 
 were betimes.* They would fight over again 
 
 * A Lakcashiee nA>-D-Loo:M weater. — " The 
 person addressed was leaning against a turnstile at 
 the entrance of a footpath, which struck out of the 
 lane. His appearance suggested to me tliat he might 
 be one of those important individuals to be met witli 
 in almost every village, whose sole occupation seems 
 to be the acquirement and dissemination of 'news;' 
 who have their o^^^l seat by the alehouse kitchen fireside, 
 and generally the least elbow-room at the ' parliament ' 
 stump ! He was an elderly man, — a weaver, as was evi- 
 denced by sundry rovings of black and coloured silk, 
 which adhered to different parts of his person. His ha- 
 biliments were of a description peculiar to his class, and
 
 IRKDALE. 21 
 
 wars whose battle-fields were now yielding 
 to the scythe or the reaping-hook ; knock 
 kings about as would a chess-player ; elect 
 governments with the ease and freedom of 
 club committees, and kick them out again 
 as they would a set of skittles by which they 
 had lost a succession of games. Often would 
 a song act as a " breaker " to these debates, 
 and the ceiling would receive a chorus that 
 
 were mostly in fashion thirty or forty years ago. He 
 was bareheaded ; and in the absence of coat or jacket, 
 he had a pair of black stockings, with the feet cut off, 
 drawn over his arms, leaving a bunch of shirt-sleeve 
 bare upon each shoulder. His lower extremities were 
 encased in stout cord ' shorts,' he never having allow- 
 ed the innovation of trowsers, or ' stove-pipes,' as he 
 termed them, to overcome him, but still gloried in 
 buttons and streamers at the knees, with veritable 
 lambswool for his calves. His thin iron-grey hair 
 was cropped close to his sconce, except where a slight 
 fringe fell over his forehead. His eyes were bright 
 for their age, and partook somewhat of the hue of his 
 nasal organ, which was a bluish-red — approaching the 
 ruby ; and as they twinkled in their sockets with a 
 rather doubting leer, they gave a quizzical expres- 
 sion to his countenance, which plainly asked — ' what 
 sort of an owd foo' are yo' tryin' t' mak' o' me ?" ' 
 
 Vide "Daisy Nooh,'' in " Tales and Sketches of Lan- 
 cashire Life."
 
 22 IRKDALE. 
 
 made the very boards imagine a storm was 
 shaking the house. And when the jest flash- 
 ed out, and scintillations of genial humour 
 twinkled through some quaint stoiy, then 
 Avould the laugh ring forth so heartily, that 
 the lungs which produced it might have been 
 made for nothing else but roaring. The 
 nicely-seated parlour, termed " th' Heawse o' 
 Lords," no one cared to frequent, except such 
 as kept ledgers and wore broad cloth, and 
 these were few in Irkdale. The shopkeeper 
 down the road did sometimes hob-a-nob with 
 the cattle dealer from the upper end; but 
 these were exclusive and ignorant, and for 
 want of something to talk about, usually went 
 to sleep over their potations. 
 
 One Saturday evening, in the early fall of 
 the year 1848, when the Parisians had knocked 
 over the Bourbon dynasty, and sent " Mister 
 Smith " with his " umbrella " to Folkstone ; 
 when the obscure I\Ictropolitan special con- 
 stable had laid down his staff" to aspire to the 
 sceptre of an empire, a happy jorum, with
 
 IRKDALE. 23 
 
 far humbler aspirations than possessed the 
 arch-plotter of December, were making merry 
 in the kitchen of the " Jolly Jmiiper." The 
 events of the year had wrought some advan- 
 tages to the fortunes of Irkdale. The silk trade 
 of Lyons, as one of the fruits of the Revolution, 
 had temporally crossed the Channel, and taken 
 up its abode in Manchester. Work grew plen- 
 tiful in the villages around ; and if the pros- 
 perity which set in at this period was limited 
 as to its duration, it was happily made the 
 most of by those Avho shared it. The " white- 
 aproned " came out strong and independent. 
 They wallowed, as it were, in a sea of silk ; 
 built pig-styes, formed money-clubs, paid old 
 shop scores, and exhibited other signs of so- 
 cial and domestic improvement. No wonder 
 then that from the traditional love of " a crack 
 o'er a glass," which attaches itself to Lanca- 
 shire working men, an extra " brew," would 
 now and then be required at the " Jolly Jump- 
 er." Prosperity must be toasted, washed 
 down, fuddled over, otherwise it could not
 
 24 IRKDALE. 
 
 last ; and who could furnish such wholesome 
 " spigot-milk " as our obliging host of the 
 " Jumper," Johnny Smithels ? 
 
 AVell, as I was saying, a happy jorum were 
 making merry in the kitchen of the only 
 " public " in Irkdalc. The company Avere a 
 mixture of such elements as may be supposed 
 to graduate from the extremity of social oil 
 and water. There Avere the pert, the snappish, 
 the overbearing, and the insinuating. There 
 were hot tempers and cool ; the profound 
 thinker and the superficial observer ; but all 
 could laugh at a good " roasting," except 
 such as happened to be spHted ; and merry 
 and loud grew the song and the debate. 
 Close to the hob sat Jacob Robinson — quar- 
 relsome, dogmatic, and as "cute as Dick's 
 hat-band."* In the opposite nook perched 
 "Clinker," who, if he Avas not a weaver, 
 loved to enjoy himself among his neighljours 
 as well as any one. He had blown out his 
 
 * " As cute as Dick's hat-baud, which went nine 
 times round the hat and would not tie" is a saying 
 often applied in Lancashire to queer-tempered people.
 
 IRKDALE. 2t> 
 
 fire, washed liis hands to the complexion 
 of the short pipe which stuck like an ebony 
 peg from his mouth, and now sat with one 
 leg carelessly thrown over the other, hammer- 
 ing out such arguments as would have puzzled 
 a whole Senate to comprehend. On the dress- 
 er " Swinkey " lounged and rattled his clogs ; 
 and near him " Robin th' Milk-mon," whose 
 whole ideas centered in so many " quarts to 
 the meal," and the price of hay, leaned 
 back his chair, contemplating tobacco smoke, 
 and laughing when others set the example. 
 But the merriest of all was "Pot-hook;" a 
 jolly, come-day, go-day fellow, of whom as a 
 proof of his geniality it was said — that he 
 never saved a farthing in his life. He could 
 make " Jakey " laugh when no one else could 
 — nay, draw him out " as fine as pin-wire," 
 when he chose to humour that odd piece of 
 humanity. Now he had bantered him into 
 sullen silence, which was at last broken by a 
 third attempt on tlie part of " Pot-hook " to 
 raise his friend's brows from the overshadow- 
 ing of his face.
 
 ~0 IRKDALE. 
 
 "To owd Sara wi'th' French Revolution, 
 and a' sich like bab-heawsim ! " exclaimed 
 Pot-hook : " Conno we raise th' stceam for a 
 sung ? " 
 
 "Steeam, Pot; Stceam!" said "Jakcy," 
 lifting his chin out of the fold of his shirt 
 front, and opening his eyelids like two very 
 large cockle-shells : " Dunno thee mention 
 that word agen i' my yerrin. It edges my 
 teeth wurr nor a railroad whistle when it's 
 yeawlin like a kennel o' clemmed heawnd- 
 whelps, or a donkey wi'th' bally-wartch. 
 Dunno thee mention it agen." 
 
 " Oh," observed " Sw^nkey," as if he had 
 called to his recollection something forgotten 
 before, " han yo' yerred they're gooin t' mak 
 a railroad through Irkdale ? " 
 
 " Ay, they'rn sayin' sunmiut abeawt it at 
 th' Exchange yestherday," said the milkman, 
 ^^•ith the air of one who was conscious of 
 having made his first joke, 
 
 " At th' Exchange ? " sneered the joiner ; 
 " what w^ur theavv doin' at th' Exchange ? I'd 
 sooner back thee bein' at th' way ter- works."
 
 IRKDALE. 27 
 
 There was a laiigli against the milkman at 
 this remark; and Jakey Laughed among the 
 rest, but his merriment was not of the most 
 angehc sort. 
 
 " They sen it'll go close past yore heawse," 
 said Swinkey, eyeing Jacob Avith the expres- 
 sion of one who was expecting a thunderbolt 
 to be launched into the middle of the room. 
 
 " Let it," exclaimed the other, " an' if 
 ther's as mich peawther i' th' country as '11 do 
 it, I'll mak a Meawnt Vesuvius on't, if my 
 own cabin goes i'th' crash. I'll ha' noane o' 
 ther yeawlin', puffin', gruntin' hoyrn hosses, 
 scutterin' past same as if th' owd lad wur 
 droivin' o'th' woald toart his sooty kitchen. 
 Nawe, nawe; I'd as lief t' live up to th' 
 middle in a moss-doytch, as nee one o' thoosc. 
 It's same as owd Calamity sheawtin' eawt ' a' 
 eternity ' i' one's ears, yerrin' such day o' 
 judgment noyses." 
 
 " Day of judgment, Jacob ; day of judg- 
 ment ! " exclaimed a venerable-looking, but 
 vacant-eyed individual, who was seated upon 
 an elevated chair at the head of the kitchen ;.
 
 28 IRKDAHE. 
 
 ^* it will come to all of us — the poor man in 
 his hut, the duke in his castle, and the king 
 upon his throne. None shall escape it." 
 
 The company bowed with an assumed 
 reverence to the speaker. 
 
 "Harken his Majesty," said Pot-hook, 
 with a peevish wink at Jacob Robinson. 
 
 " King Saul spakes," said Swinkey, taking 
 off his hat, and twisting his countenance into 
 an expression of mock gravity. 
 
 The individual who had excited these re- 
 marks was a beiuG; of unaccountable orisrin 
 and character. He had come into the village 
 — whence no one kncAV; and what were his 
 antecedents was as much a mystery. Some of 
 the more credulous believed him to be a 
 deposed monarch who had been compelled to 
 fly his kingdom, and seek obscurity in a 
 strange land. Others regarded him as a less 
 illustrious person, who once moved in good 
 society, but had suffered reverses of fortune 
 that had brought on a species of quiet in- 
 sanity, which gave him the character of a 
 visionary eccentric. Jacob Robinson "knew
 
 IRKDALE. 2^ 
 
 he're summut above common," and always 
 treated liim with a respect and deference that 
 hardly appeared to belong to his disposition. 
 '- Saul " was a frequent visitor at Jacob's 
 house ; was welcome at his table at all times, 
 but more especially on a Sunday, when the 
 dinner was of a kind superior to the rest of 
 the week's fare. On these occasions the 
 "king" would sit at the head of the table, 
 wait until all had partaken of the meal — 
 which observance he adopted as a precaution 
 against poison — then feast right royally on the 
 tasted dishes. To such an extent did this 
 fear of becoming the victim of the poisoner 
 haunt " Saul's " mind, that every kind of food 
 he ate must be previously tasted, and any 
 drink he might partake of he would see poured 
 from the bottle or jug from which others were 
 drinking. These suspicions were a constant 
 source of trouble to his entertainers ; but they 
 never appeared to regard them as a reflection 
 upon their hospitality, but were attributed to 
 some cause connected vv^ith the mystery of his 
 past life. Nothing could be got from him as
 
 30 IRKDALE. 
 
 to his early history, save that his subjects 
 were an ungrateful people, and that his crown 
 was a crown of thorns. As a set-off against 
 the loss of his throne, he had been installed in 
 the wooden chair of a small school in Irkdale, 
 where he wielded a birchen sceptre over some 
 score of the rising generation, who were en- 
 trusted to his ride, more for the sake of being 
 nursed than for the purpose of receiving in- 
 struction. The company at the " Jolly 
 Jumper" were inclined to tease this pseudo 
 King; but the rising ire of his doughty 
 *' Warwick," Jacob Robinson, turned their 
 raillery upon the latter, and Jacob, from his 
 oddity of temper, was always a sufficient mark 
 for his companions to spend their merriment 
 upon witliout their being necessitated to direct 
 it ao-ainst others. 
 
 " Let his IMajesty a-be," said Jacob, as 
 he drew his nose from the interior of a pint 
 pot, the contents of which his lips had been 
 courting for some seconds. " If he'd bin on 
 his gradely throne neaw, an' i' full pomp an' 
 majesty o' peawer, same as I da' say he wur
 
 TUKDALE. 31 
 
 oncet, I should ha' been as mich inclmed for 
 bully-raggiii him as ony on yo' ; but neaw he's 
 dropt Hke Joiie o' Daf's poratoes, I think we 
 owt to tak pity on him, an' let him a-be." 
 
 " Reet, Jacob," said the smith, giving a 
 most emphatic pufF from his pipe, " Come, 
 Saul, sup up an' have a pint wi' me." 
 
 " You are a loyal and true man. Clinker," 
 said the King, " an' I'll even do as you bid 
 me." Then draining his pot, he hammered in 
 a most plebeian manner upon the dresser, which 
 brought the landlady to their attendance. 
 
 "You are my Hebe, Mary. Jove wants 
 his nectar," he continued, his face beaming 
 with a regal smile, that was quite in contrast 
 with the lowering expression of his champion's 
 countenance. 
 
 The "nectar" was brought, which, after 
 being tasted by " Hebe," as a guarantee that 
 it was free from poison, the monarch took it 
 in his hand, and drank to the health of 
 " Clinker," whom he named his " Vulcan." 
 
 "I Avondcr," said he, "if the Olympian 
 king kept such wine as this."
 
 6Z IRKDALE. 
 
 " I dunno think he'd as good a brew- 
 heawse as owd Johnny's," observed Swmkey, 
 grinning. 
 
 "Nor maut like that ut ust mak owd 
 Johnny drunken when he're grindin' it," said 
 another. 
 
 "They had no whoam-brewed i' thoose 
 days, had they, Jacob ? " observed Pot-hook, 
 bent upon drawing his crony out a httle 
 further. 
 
 " That's mooar nor theaw knows," replied 
 the other, with an imphed sneer in the man- 
 ner of saying it. "Did not Owd Bacchus 
 keep a 'hush-shop,' an' sell thrippunny to 
 waggincrs, an' pig-keepers, an' sheep-breeders ? 
 An' what wur that but whoam-brewed ? Yo 
 may depend on't ut thcr's bin spigot-milk 
 ever sin th' woald ud groo a peck o' barley ; 
 an' if it wur a' like this, an' we didno get too 
 mich on't, it ud be bctther nor drinkin foyer-an- 
 brimstonc cawt o' glass bottles. Ncaw then, 
 here's to whoam-brewed ; an' if Swinkey '11 
 sing us that sung o' his I'll pay for a quart ; 
 but Pot-hook shanuo sup."
 
 IRKDALE. 33 
 
 "What for, Jakey? — what have I done 
 amiss ? " said Pot-hook, with feigned astonish- 
 ment in his looks. 
 
 " Gullook, theaw little rootin tooad ! Sing, 
 Swinkey ; " and Jacob set himself in an atti- 
 tude for listening, whilst the merry little 
 fellow on the dresser, ever ready to oblige his 
 companions, prepared his voice for singing. 
 After shaking the dust out of his pipe, the 
 latter at once commenced, in tones that ap- 
 peared to alarm the ceiling, the song of 
 
 WHOAM-BEEWED.* 
 
 Ther's nowt i' this woald like my own chimdy-nook, 
 "When my cheear up to th' foyer aw've poo'd ; 
 "When th' wife has just rocked th' little babby asleep, 
 An' then fetched me a mug o' whoam-brewed. 
 Whoam-brewed, whoam-brewed ; 
 An' then fetched me a mug o' whoam-brewed. 
 
 Hoo smiles, does th' owd dame, as if nobbo just wed, 
 When her caps an' her napkins hoo's blued, 
 
 * The above is the original text of the song : — aw, 
 aw'm, aio'cl, aw've, being the manner in which 1, Tm, 
 I'd, I've, are pronounced by Lancashire people. In 
 the dialogue I have given the correct English, in order 
 to be more intellisfible.
 
 34 IRKDALE. 
 
 An' tlien warms up her face wi' a blink o' th' owd leet 
 Ut shoines in a mug o' whoam-brewed. 
 
 AVhoam-brewed, &c. 
 
 It's as breet as a glent at eawr Maytime o' life, 
 Or as bavin owd plessurs renewed, 
 Is tbe sunleet at fo's reawnd mi ba'stone at neet, 
 Througb a sheaw'r fro a mug o' whoam-brewed. 
 Whoam-brewed, &c. 
 
 " My heawse is my castle," has often been sung, 
 Wheere no king, duke, or lord dar' intrude ; 
 But it needs no hard feightin to keep eawt a foe 
 "When aw truce wi' a mug o' whoam-brewed. 
 "Whoam-brewed, &c. 
 
 Care onct coom a neighbourin, an' potthert at th' dur. 
 An' his nose into th' keighole he screwed ; 
 But he soon scampert back to his feyther the dule, 
 When he see'd aw'd a mug o' whoam-brewed. 
 Whoam-brewed, &c. 
 
 When aw'm thinkin what toylin an' frabbin ther needs 
 Through this woald to get dacently poo'd, 
 It melts into pastime, does th' hardest o' wark, 
 If it's helped wi' a mug o' whoam-brewed. 
 AVhoam-brewed, &c. 
 
 It'll help us to fettle booath th' nation an' th' laws, 
 An' to sodher up mony a feud ; 
 
 An' if the woald has gone wrank, we con reet it agen 
 By th' peawer of a mug o' whoam-brewed. 
 Whoam-brewed, &c.
 
 IRKDALE. 35 
 
 Then come to mi' elbow, theaw primest o' drinks, 
 AVi' sweetest o' pleasures indued ; 
 The jolliest neighbour to jog wi' through life 
 Is a full peawchin mug o' whoam-brewed. 
 "Whoam-brewed, &c. 
 
 The uproar that followed the singing of 
 this song had scarcely subsided, when the 
 company were startled by the apparition of a 
 black, closely-cropped head poking itself in- 
 quisitively through the doorway. To this 
 head were attached shoulders which gave a 
 peculiar shrug as the rest of the body was 
 drawn after them into the kitchen ; and when 
 it was discovered that a little girl followed 
 close behind, the visitors seemed to excite an 
 additional interest. 
 
 " Do we intrude ? " said the new comer, 
 who appeared to be a stranger to all present. 
 
 " Oh, nawe, nawe, nawe," exclaimed 
 several. 
 
 "You are welcome to our court," said 
 King Saul, rising from his throne, and bowing 
 to the stranger. "Jacob, give our friend 
 attendance." 
 
 " Come to this cheear, ^Icsthur," said the
 
 36 IRKDALK. 
 
 joiner, vacating his seat, and motioning to the 
 visitor : " Yo looken toy art, an' I con do any- 
 wheere. Chnker, poo that stoo eawt o'th 
 nook, an' let this Httle wench sit deawn on it^ 
 for hoo favers hoo could do wi' a bit of a rest. 
 Theere, neaw," he exclaimed, as the girl ad- 
 vanced timidly towards the fire, and seated 
 herself upon a low stool which " Vulcan " 
 drew out of the corner ; " Quite knocked up, 
 I see — poor thing ! Clinker, just let her lay 
 her yed upo' thy knee ; I'm sure it looks too 
 heavy for her t' howd it up mich lunger." 
 
 The smith placed his brawny hand tender- 
 ly upon the child's shoulders ; her eyes were 
 lifted towards his face a moment and met a 
 father's smile, then with the confidence of one 
 Avho knew what the expression meant, re- 
 clined her head upon the offered knee, and 
 was soon oblivious of her situation, and all 
 that was passing around her.
 
 37 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The eldest stranger, during the time 
 occupied by Clinker's attentions to his 
 charge, had seated himself upon the chair 
 offered him by the joiner, and was gazing 
 inquiringly round the company as if with a 
 desire to ascertain their character and position 
 in life. He was a short, well-set man, with 
 whiskers that had recently been closely shaven, 
 but which were novv sharp and stiff, with an 
 inclination to turning grey. A thick, ragged 
 moustache, that had evidently once been more 
 trim, frowned from his upper lip, which, with 
 the restless wandering of his eyes, gave him 
 an appearance not over-prepossessing. He 
 spoke w^ith a slightly foreign accent, but w^ith 
 the ease and confidence of a person well ac- 
 quainted with the English tongue. What 
 country, or what class of society, he belonged
 
 38 IRKDALE. 
 
 to evidently engaged the specidations of those 
 about him, but all seemed puzzled with the 
 question. The landlord suggested to himself 
 that he might be a French refugee ; and the 
 personal appearance of the stranger, coupled 
 with the circumstances of the time, certainly 
 favoured such a conjecture. That he was an 
 object of special interest was apparent from 
 the expression each countenance bore, and 
 which led in due time to the pump being 
 perseveringly applied to draw out the secret 
 of his business in Irkdale. 
 
 "Fine neet, mesthur," observed Jacob 
 Robinson, endeavouring to open conversation 
 betwixt himself and the new comer. 
 
 " Dusty," was the laconic reply. 
 
 " Good weather for ripenin' curn.'" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Heaw dun things look on th' road? " 
 
 "Well." 
 
 "Dampert short," thought Jacob, twisting 
 roimd, and giving the table a nudge. " Let's 
 try him wi' longer shot." 
 
 " Han yo' comn far ? " he inquired, giv-
 
 IRKDALE. 39 
 
 iiig the other a sort of tell-me-all-abont-it look. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Ten mile ? " 
 
 " More." 
 
 " Well, go to Jericho, then ! " Jacob 
 muttered, as he gave another tAvist and an- 
 other shove at the table. "Yo're noa for 
 tellin' us nowt, I can see." 
 
 " Are things busy where yo' comn fro' ?" 
 put in Swinkey, seeing that his friend Jacob 
 appeared to be shut up. 
 
 The stranger merely replied by a shake of 
 the head. 
 
 " Yo'n happen nowt t' do wi' trade? " 
 
 Another shake of the head. 
 
 These replies to Swinkey were about as 
 satisfactory to the joiner as they would have 
 been had they contained the whole hfe-history 
 of the stranger ; and he threw his companion 
 a grin so diabolically triumphant that the 
 latter deemed it prudent to withdraw from the 
 field at once. 
 
 Here the landlord, who had been absent 
 about a minute, re-entered the kitchen, and
 
 40 IRKDALE. 
 
 placed a well-filled measure of beer before the 
 stranger. 
 
 " Beg you pardon," said the latter person, 
 " but I'd forgot. What is it ? " 
 
 " Ale," replied the landlord. 
 
 " The charge, I mean." 
 
 "To a neighbour, tuppence, — to yo', 
 nowt." 
 
 " But I insist upon paying," said the 
 stranger. 
 
 " Keep yor brass i' yor pocket ; it'll help 
 yo' on th' road," entreated Boniface, with a 
 wave of his hand that was meant to imply 
 the other need make no further offer of pay- 
 ment. 
 
 " You surely don't take me to be a 
 beggar ? " 
 
 "Yo're a stranger," said the landlord, 
 " na' that's enoogh. Nob'dy pays here ut's on 
 th' tramp." 
 
 The other gazed at his host a moment, 
 with a look expressive of a mixture of pride 
 and gratitude, then taking a handkerchief 
 out of his hat, hid his face within its folds.
 
 IRKDALE. 41 
 
 " I am poor, it is true, and tramping too, 
 but not such a stranger as you may suppose," 
 he observed, replacing his handkerchief. " I 
 have been unfortunate — " 
 
 Here he paused, and gave a tender glance 
 at the child, whom the smith had lifted from 
 her stool, and placed like one of his own upon 
 his knee. 
 
 This simple expression was in itself suffi- 
 cient to qualify the stranger for membership 
 in the order of Nature's " Free Masonry," or 
 such as it existed amongst the dwellers in 
 Irkdale. It was a passport to their sympa- 
 thies that required neither frank nor signa- 
 ture, nor test of official inquiry. He might 
 be a Frenchman, a Spaniard, a native of the 
 Sea Islands, or of the icy North, — no matter, 
 he was " unfortunate," and being so, had as 
 strong a claim upon the hospitality of the 
 " Jolly Jumper " as if he had been christen- 
 ed at the little church that each Sabbath day 
 made a common family of the whole village. 
 Even " King Saul," erect, stately, majestical 
 as the greatest of the Caesars, bent himself
 
 42 IRKDALE. 
 
 from his throne with an expression in his 
 manner that seemed to say, " You are welcome 
 as a subject in my adopted kingdom." 
 
 A generous nature, on being suddenly at- 
 tacked, is for the moment indifferent about the 
 mode of its manifestation. On this principle 
 the company of the " Jolly Jumper " acted 
 towards their new acquaintance. A dozen pots 
 of ale were simultaneously offered for his ac- 
 ceptance, as though it was regarded as one con- 
 dition of misfortune to be extremely thirsty. 
 It would have been all the same to them had 
 they been offering the most expensive wine 
 ever stored in cellar. Similar impulses are 
 expressed every day in the little intercourses 
 of humble life. A " sup " of drink ; a hand- 
 ful of meal for porridge ; a penny towards a 
 bed — these are acts of mercy that, where the 
 lowly mingle together, flow from hand to 
 hand in little undercurrents of helping love — 
 rising not to the upper world's light, nor 
 seeking to be made known through printed 
 colinnns, which in too manv instances reveal
 
 IRKDALE. 4^ 
 
 the extent of the donor's wealth more than the 
 kindness of his heart. 
 
 It was very natural on the part of the 
 stranger to ' decline accepting such an ex- 
 uberant token of the feeling his apparent 
 distress had awakened in the company. He 
 must have been well seasoned in dissipation 
 who could imbibe such large potations of 
 even " spigot milk," without feeling consider- 
 ably damaged by their implied favours. He 
 " thanked them all the same," however, and 
 begged they would not suppose he had 
 Avittingly paraded his circumstances before 
 them for the purpose of eliciting their sym- 
 pathy or assistance. He had arrived from 
 Prance within the last few days — France — 
 his adopted, but not his native country, and 
 was come to seek a temporary asylum in a 
 land where hospitality to the world's unfor- 
 tunates was never known to be denied, and 
 where he expected help, though most of those 
 whom he once held dear were sleeping in their
 
 44 IRKDALE. 
 
 " Gie me yor hont, mestliur, if yo' winno 
 sup," said Jacob Robinson, crossing the floor, 
 and holding out his hand to the other's grasp. 
 "Yo'n bin progressin', knockin' one king of 
 his peearch for t' put another on ; same as 
 we dun here, when we sheawtn a bad gover'- 
 ment deawn, andputn a woss in its place." 
 
 " A king for a republic," interposed the 
 stranger, somewhat warmly. 
 
 "Well, it's the same thing. Yo'n see 
 it'll end i' folk jowin' ther ycds t'gether till 
 they'n be fain o' quietness at any price ; then- 
 «omebody'll come an' slip a hawter reawnd 
 ther necks, an' droive 'cm like a lot o' cowts 
 ut han' kicked and flaskcrt thersels eawt o' 
 wynt. Mind if it isno' so." 
 
 "Possibly," the other admitted. 
 
 " Neaw, look at his Majesty here," con- 
 tinued the joiner, waving his hand towards 
 "'King Saul;" hc're th' king o'th Galli- 
 thumpcans onct, that's a nation somewhere, 
 he says, between th' North pole an' th' Cape 
 o' Good Hope. Well, they geet a lot o' new 
 fangelt notions i' ther ycds; they'rn for
 
 IRKDALE. 45- 
 
 levelliii' eveiybody an' eveiythin' ; an' tli' 
 fust thing they did they sent his Majesty a 
 gonnor-huntin', then fowten one amung an- 
 other which must be th' topmost, an' thoose 
 ut wur put in for t' level, devided things 
 same-as th' monkey did th' cheese, till they'rn 
 abeawt as level as a pair o' stairs. Well, at 
 last, th' captain of a strange ship coom, an' 
 leet some peawther fly amung 'em, an' when 
 he'd peppered 'em weel, and kilt a lot o' th' 
 great uns, th' tothers licked his cawves an' 
 made him into a bran-new emperor. Did nor 
 they, yor Majesty ? " 
 
 The ex-king bowed. 
 
 " But France would never submit to such 
 a fate," said the stranger, smiUng, and regard- 
 ing the deposed monarch with somewhat of a 
 perplexed look. " It may become the victim 
 of domestic tyranny, but would have to be 
 wasted by centuries of revolution before bo^Y- 
 ing to the yoke of an invader." 
 
 " I dunno know that," replied Jacob, with 
 a grin that told he had a point in hand. 
 " Ther's a chap gone eawt o' Lunnon, neaw^
 
 46 IRKDALE. 
 
 ut'll thresh a' France wi' his knob-stick. 
 Mind if he does no'. They'n nowt t' do but 
 get a painted monkey, an' set it on a pow, 
 then kessnn it Bonypart, an yo'n see ut 
 Frenchmen '11 goo as mad after it as a lot o' 
 thrail-dogs after a stinkin' rag." 
 
 " You speak as if you took me to be a 
 Frenchman," said the stranger, turning to 
 Jacob, and smiling as if forgetful of his situ- 
 ation. 
 
 " Well, sartinly I did," replied the other ; 
 " but I may be mistakken." 
 
 " You are mistaken, my dear friend," said 
 the stranG;er, his cheek flushino; under the in- 
 fluence of a momentary feeling of pride. " I 
 am no Frenchman, as I said before, but an 
 Englishman ; and what is more, as thoroughly 
 Lancashire as any of you. I was born within 
 five miles of this village, and was brought uj) 
 like some of you have been, to the loom. I 
 was married " — here he paused, while a cloud 
 passed over his face, and he tasted for the first 
 time of the ale that had been set before him. 
 " That child," he resumed, " was cradled with-
 
 IRKDALE. 47 
 
 ill the sound of yoiu' bells ; and if she had 
 never left her first home, her future might not 
 have been so dark and cheerless as it now 
 appears." 
 
 The company glanced towards the child, 
 then at each other, and appeared by their 
 looks instinctively to divine something in con- 
 nection with the stranger's history that in- 
 creased the interest they felt in him. No one 
 had been missed from the immediate neigh- 
 bourhood for several years past, so that the 
 stranger could not, they thought, have been a 
 native of Irkdale. But there were villages 
 about whose populations were more migratory, 
 and he might be from one of them. Jacob 
 remembered several people who had " emi- 
 grated" to Macclesfield during a slack time, 
 but no one that he knew of had ever left the 
 country. There was a young man disappeared 
 from " Kitty Green " soon after the " plug " 
 riots of '42, but he was a single man, and not 
 likely to have taken a child with him ; besides, 
 he had been heard of often as a worm doctor 
 practising in a neighbouring town, and adver-
 
 48 IRKDALE. 
 
 tising liis profession from the top of a tub in 
 the market-place.* Tlie stranger must have 
 had a wife, if he did not possess one at pre- 
 sent, for judging from the personal likeness of 
 the two, the child was evidently his daughter. 
 Had he a wife at that time, was a question 
 that Jacob was then turning over in his mind 
 with a most gossip -like eagerness. Glancing 
 at the child again with a look indicative of 
 much unfeigned sympathy — and in that mood 
 the joiner's countenance smoothed down its 
 ruggedness into a mild and open expression — 
 
 * Tliis person is the one referred to iu the follow- 
 ing extract from a song commemorative of the great 
 "strike" of 1842. 
 
 " For Doctor K 
 
 Had corae that way 
 From Ashton, Hyde, and Denton, 
 Who said that troops 
 Of Feargus' dupes 
 AVere being led up by Fenton ; 
 And that they meant 
 Where'er they went 
 The " strike " flame to rekindle, 
 Till from Oldham Edge 
 To Staly bridge, 
 They'd stopp'd both loom and spindle."
 
 IRKDALE. 49 
 
 he timidly inquired, as if afraid of the tenor 
 of the answer — 
 
 " Has hoo* a mother ? " 
 
 The stranger shook his head and sighed. 
 
 " Poor wench ! " the joiner exclaimed, 
 "betther lose fifty feythers nor one mother. 
 I know it by mysel', 1 had t' beg for pap 
 off anybody ut ud lemmi have it, an' afore I 
 could tell 'em what I wanted too." 
 
 "Did your mother die so early?" in- 
 quired the stranger. 
 
 " I're born beawt mother," replied Jacob, 
 without the least shadow of a smile betraying 
 any intention to perpetrate a joke. 
 
 " How could that be? " said the other. 
 
 " Well, I never knew her, an' that's th' 
 same thing," replied Jacob, looking as pro- 
 found as if he had been uttering the most 
 earnest truth. " If we'n never felt her trot- 
 tin' us on her knee, or drawin' us close to her 
 breast, nor yerd her singin' when we'n bin 
 dreeamin' we belungt to another woald or 
 summut ; if we remember nowt nobbut a lot 
 * Hoo, s^ej hence boo'd, s7/e' J ; hoo'W, she'll. 
 
 VOL. 1. 4
 
 50 IRKDALE. 
 
 o' spoons an' bottle necks bein' cromm'd i' 
 one's meawth till we'rn ready for bein' tosst 
 iipo' til' woald's middin fort' scrat for ussel, 
 we'n never had a mother." 
 
 " But how if you'd lost her before she was 
 dead ? " observed the stranger. 
 
 " Oh, I conno* say ; I never knew nowt 
 o' that sort. Heaw cont' mak' that eawt, 
 Clinker?" 
 
 The smith coughed, and put on a half- 
 grave, half-comical look. 
 
 " Han yo' forgotten heaw Donny at Hicks 
 lost his wife ? " he said, glancing at Jacob. 
 
 " Hoo wurno a mother^' the joiner re- 
 marked: "but it wur a queer case, for a' 
 that," and his face suddenly became the 
 vehicle of a huge but solemn grin. 
 
 " How might it be ? " inquired the stran- 
 ger, manifesting an eagerness to hear the story 
 from the probability of its bearing some 
 affinity to his own history. 
 
 *' I'll tell yo, if yo'n hearken," said Vul- 
 can, raising himself in his chair, and taking a 
 long breath, as if making preparations for
 
 IRKDALE. 51 
 
 telling a story of some length ; then taking 
 hold of the poker to assist him in his task, he 
 commenced, relating the history of 
 
 DONNY AT HICKS WIFe's BURYIn'.* 
 
 " Well, yo mun know," the smith began, 
 " ut Donny at Hicks had a wife with a tongue 
 in her yed ut wur like summut between a 
 rasp an' a pair o' pincers ; it ud ha' scrat or 
 poo'd til' skin off anybody hoo'd comn nee in 
 abeawt two strokes. It wur a plague to 
 everybody i' Irkdale, for it wur awlus gooin' 
 like a steeam saw, an' fairly cut chips eawt o' 
 folk. Yo may think heaw Donny wur poo'd 
 i' pieces wi' this fleighin' machine, an' heaw 
 he' re like a mon ut had lost t'one hawve of 
 liissel afore he'd bin wed above three months. 
 It didno' matter wheere they wur, hoo'd be 
 naggin' at him a' th' time they'rn t'gether. 
 If they'd bin at ther looms, hoo'd ha made a 
 noyse above th' seawnd o' the shuttles ; an' if 
 they'd bin at ther meals hoo'd ha' spit foyer 
 between every meawthful. As for goin' t' 
 church t'gether, that they never did nobbut 
 * Funeral. 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of
 
 52 IRKDALE. 
 
 onct, an' Doniiy ust say ut if they'd knockt 
 his neck eawt as hc're gooin' into th' poorch, 
 or stickt a booan in his throat, so as he could 
 not ha' said / will, it ud ha' bin as great a 
 piece o' salvation as ever could ha' comn to 
 him o' this side his coffin. He could nor do 
 reet for her chus what he did. If he'd bin 
 a double refoint hangel, wi' muslin wings, 
 hoo'd a said he're as black as th' Owd Lad, 
 an' as ill-favvert as Skennin' Billy, ut folk sed 
 wur punct' t'gether. 
 
 " Donny coom to me one day i' th' smithy, 
 an' I're just filin deawn a bridle-bit for owd 
 Jone o' Robins' boss Smiler. He sed, ' Chnk- 
 er, dost think theaw could mak' sumnuit o' 
 that sort for yon tit o' mine ? ' 
 
 "'What tit?' I sed. 
 
 " ' Wheay, yon mangy-meawth'd un ut'U 
 noather draw nor let nob'dy else quietly,' an' 
 he winked at me abeawt as lively a wink as a 
 chap met give ut had just gettcn a rope 
 reawnd his neck. 
 
 " ' Theaw doesno' mean th' wife, — doesta?' 
 I sed.
 
 IRKDALE. 53 
 
 " ' Theaw's hit th' reet eend o'tli' hoyrn,* 
 this time/ he sed ; an' he favvert he wisht I'd 
 had her screwed up i' th' vice just then, an' 
 agate o' operatin' between her teeth. 
 
 " ' I'll tell thi what,' I sed, ' theaw should 
 have a sheeath made for her tongue. That 
 ud be betther nor a bit.' 
 
 " ' A sheeath ! what's that ? ' he sed. 
 
 " ' It's a case,' I sed, * same as they put'n 
 swords in fort' keep 'em fro' cuttin' their legs.' 
 
 " ' Oh,' he sed, ' summut hke a razzer-box, 
 or owd Tweedle specteckle case. By th' 
 makkcrs, that ud just be it, Clinker. Dost 
 think theaw could mak' summut o' th' sort.' 
 
 " ' Ay,' I sed, * in about fourteen or fifteen 
 jiffies ; an' I'll do't, if theaw's a mind,' 
 
 " ' AVell, owd Jone con wait,' he sed ; * so 
 get thee a piece o' hoyrn in a minit, an' I'll 
 blow for thee.' 
 
 " Well, I geet a piece o' sheet hoyrn, an' 
 
 stickt it i' th' foyer, an' Donny set to th' 
 
 bailies an' blew till I thowt he'd ha' blown 
 
 a' th' smithy up th' chimdy. When it wur 
 
 * Iron.
 
 54 IRKDALE. 
 
 red I just doublet it o'er upo' th' onvil, an 
 made it summut like a arrow tip for a giant, 
 an' when I'd filed it deawn till it wur as breet 
 as a new candlestick, Donny ran whoam with 
 it fort' try heaw it ud fit th' wife's tongue. 
 Heaw he went on wi' th' experiment yo'st yer 
 e'enneaw. 
 
 "Th' mornin' after, I'd just getten' th' 
 shutters deawn, an' the foyer laid, when 
 Donny coom snakin' into th' smithy as quiet as 
 a meawse, wi' his yed lapt up, an' pooin' a face 
 abeawt th' length o' mi' arm. I could see 
 he'd bin havin' the worst o' summut. ' What's 
 up neaw, Donny ? ' I sed. 
 
 " ' That sheeath,' he grooant, like someb'dy 
 ut's getten' th' tooth-wartch up an' deawn 
 'em. 
 
 "'Would nor it fit?' I sed. 
 
 " ' Fit, be hanged ! ' he sed ; ' I'd no sooner 
 showed it to th' wife, an' towd her it wur a 
 peeace ofierin' for her, than hoo sniggcd it 
 eawt o' my hont, an' leet it fly i' my face as 
 theaw sees. It's knockt t'one e'ebree off", an' 
 damaged th' corner o' my yed just same as if
 
 IRKDALE. 55 
 
 it liad bin cut wi' a knife. Neaw lioo's gone 
 to a magistrate for t' swear her life agen me ; 
 so th' next thing I reckon I'st ha' t' go to th' 
 New Bailey for makkin' use of a new invention 
 before it wur patented.' 
 
 " Well, I thowt th' mou wur in a gradely 
 fix, an' I towd him ut th' best thing he could 
 do ud be for t' dee eawt o' th' road ; for he'd 
 never ha' no quietness as lung as they'rn 
 t'gether. 
 
 *' ' I wish 1ioo\l tak' it int' her yed for t' 
 dee,' he sed, ' I'd have a fiddle at th' buryin', 
 and I'd sing — 
 
 * Fairly, squarely, gradely sliut on her 
 Deawn in a hole wi' a stone at th' top on her.' 
 
 " Well, it coom abeawt ut i'stead o' Donny 
 wife gooin' to a magistrate, hoo went to her 
 feyther's, somewhere no far off Manchester; 
 an' hoo coom noane back that day, nor that 
 neet ; an' th' week went o'er an' nowt wur seen 
 on her i' Irkdale. Donny geet flesh that 
 week, an' he sed ut if hoo'd nobbut tarry 
 e'endway, he'd be gettin' as fat as owd Joe 
 Skooals.
 
 56 IRKDALE. 
 
 " One neet, him an' me, an' Jacob theere, 
 an' one or two nioore beside, wur havin' a 
 pint or two together, an' we persuaded Donny 
 for t' bury th' wife while hoo're wick. Jacob 
 sed he'd mak' th' cofEn for nowt, an' Donny 
 must goo to Doctor Hollant an' get a certifikit 
 'ut hoo'd dee'd o' th' Bridle feyver. I knew 
 th' owd doctor 'ud Hke th' joke as weel as any- 
 body, when he geet to know th' meeanin' on't. 
 
 " Sl H wur made up directly, an' Donny 
 went to ih' doctor th' day after, an' towd him 
 his an-and. 
 
 "'AYhat's hoo dee'd on, dost say?' th' 
 doctor axt him. 
 
 " ' Th' bridle feyver,' Donny sed. 
 
 " ' Hum ? ' til' doctor sed, ' that's a disorder 
 unknown to a' th' pharmacopy. AVhat are th' 
 symptoms ? ' 
 
 " ' A brakin' eawt abeaAvt th' meawth, an' a 
 rattlin' noyse abcawt th' top of her throat,' 
 Donny sed. 
 
 " ' Ay, thoose are bad signs, sartinly,' th' 
 doctor sed. * Heaw leets theaw never ca'd on 
 me in ?'
 
 IRKDALE. 57 
 
 " ' Well,' Donny sed, ' they sen ut a'th 
 physic i' th' woald could no' ha cured her. 
 Beside, it's a very catchin' sort of a disorder, 
 an I knew we could no' weel spare yo' yet.' 
 
 " ' Very weel thowt,' th' doctor sed, ' it 
 shows I'm o' some use i' th' neighbourhood ; 
 but I shall beliket' see her, theaw knows.' 
 
 " ' Could nor yo' manage bea^vt ? ' Donny 
 sed. ' I'm feeart hoo'd be comin t' life agen 
 if yo' felt her pidse.' 
 
 " Th' doctor lookt very fawse at Donny, an' 
 at th' last he said, — ' Young mon, I thhik 
 theawrt humbuggin' me abeawt this bridle 
 feyver, an' this brakin' eawt abeawt th' meawth, 
 an' this rattlin' noyse at th' top of her throat. 
 Had hoo a tongue in her yed ?' 
 
 " ' Ay,' Donny sed ! ' it's that what's kilt 
 her. It made words faster nor hoo could spit 
 'em eawt; so hoo had t' swallow 'em, an' 
 they'n choked her.' 
 
 " Th' doctor set his meawth for swarin', for 
 he're an owd rip betimes ; but e'enneaw he 
 turnt his tongue reawnd, an' sect up a crack 
 o' laafin' leawd enoogh for a jack-ass.
 
 58 IRKDALE. 
 
 " ' Neaw it's just here,' Donny sed. * Th' 
 wife has bin' laft me a fortni't, an' we'n made 
 it up for t' have a buryin' ; or else, hoo's as 
 wick just neaw as abeawt twenty folk.' 
 
 "'Oil, I see,' th' doctor sed, 'a sham 
 buryin'. Well, theawst have a certifikit, an' 
 I'll be a bowl o' punch toart th' buryin' 
 drink.' 
 
 " So Donny gect his papper, an' things wur 
 gettn' ready for th' buryin'. Jacob theere 
 made a white wood coffin, an' filled it wi' 
 garden soil, for t' weight it a bit, an' then it 
 wur put on a chamber dur, an' laid eawt upo' 
 th' bed. When folk wanted t' know hcaw it 
 wur ut hoo're screwed deawn so soon, Donny 
 towd 'em ut th' corpse wur no' fit t' be seen. 
 Beside it smelt so, an' th' doctor had ordert 
 ut nob'dy must see her. He'd hard wark 
 fort' get th' heawse cleeant up agen th' 
 buryin'-day ; folk wur so feeart o' catchin' th- 
 bridle feyver ; bo at last he set it eawt ut he 
 meeant have another wife as soon as th' tother 
 wur gettn daccntly i' th' greawnd; an' th' 
 next news wc ycrd ther two young widows
 
 IRKDALE. 59 
 
 slusliin an' moppin tli' lieawse, an' fa'in eawt 
 wi' one another like two berm wimmen. 
 
 "Well, th' buryin' day coom, and tli' 
 churcli bell towlt th' same as for a gradely 
 deead un ; an' Donny had gotten hissel don'd 
 up in a bran-new suit o' clooas, ut he'd getten 
 off th' Bury felly ;* an' th' two young widows 
 wurn knockin' abeawt as fine as rush-cart 
 bosses, an' settin' ther caps at Donny till I 
 believe th' mon actily thowt th' wife wur as 
 deead as a dur nail. A' th' folk i' Trkdale 
 wur laithtf to th' buryin', an' ther two 
 heawseful coom, lookin' as soUit an' as con- 
 carned as if they'd a' bin relations, an' wur 
 expectin' hoo'd left em summit beside her 
 
 * A well-known travelling Scotchman from the 
 neighbourhood of Bury, Lancashire. It is related of 
 this individual that such was his faith in his customers 
 that at one time there was scarcely a family in a certain 
 village near Manchester who were not in his books. 
 Times were bad, and his visits became so unpleasant to 
 those who could not pay, that a boy was employed to 
 watch for his coming ; and at a concerted signal (the 
 firing of a pistol) nearly every door in the village was 
 locked. 
 
 t Laitht — invited.
 
 60 IRKDALE. 
 
 blessin' ; for ther nob'dy i' th' sacret nobbut 
 abeawt a hawve a dozen on us. Donny tried 
 t' squeeze a bit of a tear eawt o'th corner o' 
 one e'e when owd Betty Beawnccr axt him if 
 th' wife wur owt like what hoo wur when 
 hoo're wick ; bo when he fund it eawt ut he 
 hadno' weet enough for t' mak one, he gan it 
 up, an' yeawlt a bit for dacency's sake. Owd 
 Johnny o' Sammuls wur theere, wi' a hymn- 
 book in his hont ut had a great big hoyrn 
 clasp to it; an' when he dropt his chin like 
 th' bottom of a pair o' smithy bailies, an' 
 wanted t' know if they mut sing o'er her, I 
 thowt Donny ud ha' gone int' fits wi' tryin' t' 
 howd for laafin'. 
 
 " Well, when they'd gettn th' coffin dcawn 
 th' stairs, an' just as th' chaps wurn messurin' 
 for carriers, an' th' owd wimmen wurn puttin' 
 on their pattens, an' tuckin' up their clooas for 
 gooin, th' dur flew oppen, an' in Donny wife 
 marcht, as wick, as he sed, as abeawt twenty 
 folk. I thowt th' heawse ud ha' tumblt 
 abeawt eawr ears wi' th' hallaballoo ut wur 
 raised in abeawt a hauve a second. Th'
 
 IRlvDALE. 61 
 
 wimiiien seet up a skrike as leawd as if Owd 
 Sooty had popt his hums in at th' dur, an' 
 prick't 'em wi' his toastin-fork. Th' men seet 
 up a sheawt of another sort, an' capert upo' 
 th' floor same as if they'd bin at th' height of 
 a wakes fuddle. 
 
 " Donny wife stood abeawt a minit hke a 
 cat ut's a lot o' moice afore its nose, an' does 
 no' know which on 'em for t' tackle. At last 
 hoo flew at Donny, an' tore his dicky eawt of 
 his breast, an' gan his yure sich a curlin', ut he 
 believt it ud never stretch agen. Then hoo 
 lookt reawnd for th' finest cap ut hoo could 
 find, an' seet at that, an' made doll -rags on't 
 afore anybody could ha' whistlet. Hoo cleart 
 th' heawse as soon as a foyer would, for 
 nob'dy dost touch her, an' when they'd a' 
 gone, hoo jumpt upo' th' coffin an' smash't it 
 int' foyer-wood at two jumps, an' then slat 
 o' th' buryin' drink i' th' fowt, th' doctor's 
 punch an' a' — what ther wur laft. 
 
 " Th' news ut hoo'd comn to life agen flew 
 up an' deawn like war news, or a bit o' nice 
 cleean scandil, an' folk ut had lookt concarn-
 
 62 IRKDALE. 
 
 ed abcawt her deein, sed what a pity it wiir 
 ut hoo'd turnt up agen, for Donny could noa- 
 ther draw th' buryiii'-brass eawt o' th' ckib, 
 nor get wed to another, as he'd th' chance o' 
 dooin'. Th' owd pa'son wur some pottert 
 when he fund he'd ordert a grave oppent, an' 
 kept th' bell towlin* a' day fornowt ; but when 
 it wor explaint to him he gan a good hearty 
 shake of his waistcoat, an' set th' bells o' ring- 
 in' Hie the Jenny tvhoam agen^ till every- 
 body i' Irk dale wur as merry as if ther'd bin 
 abeawt fifty weddings an' as monny kessun- 
 ins a' at onct. Ther wur some laafin' abeawt 
 th' skit for monny a day after, an' if ever 
 anybody catcht the bridle fever they must ha' 
 bin curet afore it had gone too far, for 1 never 
 yerd of any more deeaths. As for Donny wife, 
 — after hoo'd smasht th' coffin, and slat th' 
 drink abeawt, hoo packt up her clooas i' three 
 bonnet boxes an' a trunk, and never nowts bin 
 yerd on her sin." ^
 
 63 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Though the merriment which followed the 
 recital of Clinker's story was sufficient to have 
 lightened an ordinary weight of care, it pro- 
 duced little of that effect upon the stranger. 
 He had listened attentively, however, and now 
 and then a faint smile would flit over his face as 
 the more ludicrous incidents of the story were 
 touched upon, but nothing that would indicate 
 the shghtest abandonment of a decorous and 
 self imposed restraint could be observed in his 
 manner. The smith appeared to feel some 
 reproof from this reserve, as if he thought his 
 story had been somewhat ill-timed or out of 
 place, for he dropped his chin upon his breast, 
 put on a confused look, and took more than 
 usual interest in the construction of the poker. 
 It was evident he had touched a chord in the 
 stranger'sbreast that awoke troubled memories.
 
 64 IRKDALE. 
 
 for during several minutes the latter appeared 
 to be wrapt in deep thought, from which ab- 
 straction even the jocularity of Swinkey and 
 his companion Pothook failed to arouse him. 
 He started up at last, however, and, look- 
 ing at the clock, which pointed to within two 
 hours of Sunday morning, exclaimed — 
 
 " Dear me, how late it's getting ! and 
 we've some miles to go yet." 
 
 " Yo'n stir noane fro here this neet," 'said 
 the landlord, in a manner that seemed to have 
 the effect of locking and double-barring every 
 door about the house. 
 
 " But we must," insisted the other, look- 
 ing tenderly at the sleeping child, as if it 
 occurred to him how cruel it was thus to 
 have delayed their journey until midnight 
 would be likely to overtake them ere it was 
 finished. " We have to go to Waverlow to- 
 niglit." A friend there oflFers me a home 
 until such times as I can either settle in this 
 country, or be enabled to return to France." 
 
 " If yo' go'n to Waverlow t'neet," observ- 
 ed Jacob Robinson, with an air of authority
 
 IRKDALE. 65 
 
 that meant not to be questioned, " Yo'n lia' 
 t' goo by yorsel, for that wench goes noane 
 with yo,' I can tell yo." 
 
 " What do you mean, friend ?" asked the 
 stranger, again dropping upon his seat, and 
 appearing extremely puzzled to account for 
 such rude manifestations of hospitality. 
 
 " I meean," replied Jacob, " ut it ud be 
 a — , I'd liket t' ha sworn — it ud be a dou- 
 ble plankt an' dove-tailt shawm for t' drag 
 thoose little feet o'er yon broos an' hard roads 
 at this time o'th' neet ; so yo' shanno do it. 
 We'n a little nice crib at eawr heawse ut's as 
 sweet as a posy, an' I'll carry her to it mysel', 
 same as I've carried one monny a time ut if 
 hoo'd ha' livt ud neaw ha' bin like one o' 
 thoose poppilaries (poplars) at th' front 
 theere." 
 
 " But—" 
 
 " Nay, yo' shanno' say naive ; for anybody 
 ut says that when Jacob Robi'son says a?j, met 
 as weel hit him a cleawt i'th' earhole at onct." 
 
 To have reasoned with the joiner after this 
 declaration of his obstinacy, the stranger con-
 
 C6 IRKDALE. 
 
 eluded, would be useless, and as the Avindow 
 appeared to be streaked with drops of rain, he 
 determined at once to give himself up to the 
 hospitable coercion of his friends. He there- 
 fore intimated his willingness to place his 
 daughter under Jacob's care, and to accept 
 the implied oflFer of a night's shelter for him- 
 self beneath the roof of the "Jolly Jmnper." 
 
 " I am sure," said he, " you overwhelm 
 me with your kindness, for which I must own 
 myself indebted till such time as I can recom- 
 pense you." 
 
 " Say nowt abeawt that," exclaimed the 
 landlord. " If th' Jumper connot afford a 
 neet's peearchin' beawt makkin' it int' a pock- 
 et question, I'll poo him deawn, an' stick him 
 at th' back o' th' foyer, for a piece o' arrant 
 lumber." 
 
 " An' if eawr Nanny," said the joiner, 
 striking the table, " doesno' behave like an 
 owd hen to that chicken, I'll ruffle her fithers 
 wi' th' soft eend o' my arm. But then I know 
 hoo will ; so I may say owt." 
 
 It was settled without further preliminaries
 
 IRKDALE. 67 
 
 that the stranger was to be the guest of mine 
 host — not the customer — but in every sense 
 of the term, guest ; and that Jacob Robinson 
 was to be nurse, guardian, or father to the 
 Httle girl for at least one night, and as much 
 of the following day as the duties of hos- 
 pitahty required ; an arrangement which ap- 
 peared to give every satisfaction to all who 
 were concerned. 
 
 The landlord here intimated that "ear- 
 rings " were getting more numerous on the 
 window panes then Avere usual in fine weather, 
 and that in all probability a shower was 
 coming on. Those of the company who did 
 not care for a good wetting might stay 
 another hour, and get drenched both inside 
 and out ; but for such as preferred a dry skin 
 and clean clothes, the sooner they " slung their 
 clogs " homewards the better. His corns 
 had been "springin"' most painfully for 
 some time, and from the sympathy they had 
 with the weather office, he could always fore- 
 tell when the "deggin' can" 
 * Watering pot.
 
 68 IRKDALE. 
 
 be used. His advice was, " Goo wlioam, an' 
 be slippy, an' yo'n feel no wnrr o' Sunday 
 momin." 
 
 This was the signal for the general rising 
 of the company, with the exception of Pot- 
 hook, who said he had " tuppence " left, and 
 maintained that it would be a piece of foolish- 
 ness, besides looking cowardly, to go home 
 and leave such good doings while he had a 
 farthing in his pocket, and all for the sake of 
 a " sope o' rain." 
 
 Leaving the latter person to the enjoy- 
 ment of his " last pint," and also to the agree- 
 able satisfaction of having arrived at a state 
 of complete bankruptcy, Swinkey reloaded his 
 pocket pistol (meaning his pipe), and taking 
 up a napkin from which protruded the 
 knuckle of a joint intended for stew* in the 
 
 * " Stew," or shin of beef soup, is to Laucasliirc 
 working men a favourite Sunday morning repast. 
 People have been known to go miles to visit each other 
 as early as six o'clock in the morning, when it has 
 been known that a good knuckle has been stewing in 
 ihe oven during the previous night; and no epicure 
 could he more delighted with a rare dish, than would
 
 IRKDALE. 69 
 
 morning, he bade liis companion " good 
 neet," then favouring him with an injmiction 
 to mind that nobody " took his brass o'er 
 gooin' whoam," rattled his clogs over the 
 jBioor, and took his departure, in company 
 with " Robin-th'-keaw-mon " and " King 
 Saul," who were going the same way. The 
 smith gave up his charge to her parent, who on 
 awakening her from the sweet slumber which 
 she had enjoyed, inquired if she would like to 
 accompany her new-found grandpapa home. 
 
 The child opened her eyes with a start, 
 gave a bewildered glance round the apart- 
 ment, then took her father's hand with confid- 
 ing resignation, as if she had been accus- 
 tomed to, and was prepared for, further long 
 wandering in search of that home which had 
 for several days floated like a meteor before 
 her eager imagination. 
 
 " How far is home, Pa ? " said the child, 
 dreamingly tying on a little bonnet which had 
 been loosened while she slept. 
 
 these liomely people witli the wholesome flavour of a 
 "gradely Lancashire stew."
 
 70 IRKDALE. 
 
 " Not far, love," the parent replied. 
 
 " It hasn't been for many a clay," said the 
 child, with a yearning weariness in her tone 
 of voice. 
 
 " But we shall reach it to-morrow." 
 
 " And shall we see Ma there ? " 
 
 The stranger was some time before he 
 could answer; but suppressing an emotion 
 which was well-nigh overpowering him, said 
 he did not think they would yet ; but Grand- 
 papa and Grandmamma would be there, and 
 they would be so happy. 
 
 The child, without further questioning as 
 to her destination, or a murmur at their 
 separation, yielded herself up to the civilities 
 of Jacob Robinson, who looked like a melting 
 ogre as he stood there, from a couple of big 
 round tears that were watering the channels 
 on each side of his nose, and threatening his 
 beard with a similar inundation. 
 
 " Come, an' goo wi' Grondad," said the 
 joiner, taking his charge by the hand more 
 tenderly than he would have done the throat 
 of any one who might choose to molest them,
 
 IRKDALE. 71 
 
 " an' we'll get posies i' th' moriiin', an' watc h 
 hummabees, an' feed chucky-liens, an — I 
 dunno know what." 
 
 Alas ! this was Greek to the poor girl, 
 whose childhood had hitherto been [ without 
 flowers, without bees, and who had seen no 
 " chucky-hens " only such as had been 
 cooped up for sale in the markets of Lyons. 
 
 " Yo'n come an' have yor porritch wi' us 
 i' th' morning, if owd Johnny '11 let yo," he 
 continued, directing his discourse to the 
 stranger, who was taking an affectionate leave 
 of his daughter, " an' yo' mun stop to th' 
 sarvice, too." 
 
 " To service ? " said the other, somewhat 
 puzzled to comprehend what the joiner meant 
 by the word as then applied. 
 
 "Ay, to sarvice," repeated Jacob, "I 
 praich to my owd womman an' eawr Dick 
 every Sunday mornin' ; an' if my church has 
 not a steeple o'th' top on't, nor bells for t' 
 ring us t'gether, we'n mooar nor Christ had 
 when he went i' th' wilderness telhng folk to 
 do to others, an' love one another, as we readn
 
 72 IRKDALE. 
 
 on i' i[\ owcl book. Yo'n come, winno yo' ? " 
 
 " I will," said the stranger. 
 
 "Then, good neet! Come, my little 
 meawsy-peawsy ! Clinker, stick to her tother 
 hont ; an' if th' rain '11 nobbut keep off a bit, 
 we'st get Avhoam beawt havin' a fither tunit, 
 or a spot o' durt abeavvt us. Good neet ! " 
 
 " Good night, Pa, and God bless you ! " 
 
 " Good night, love, — good night ! " and 
 under the escort of the 'stalwart blacksmith, 
 Jacob Robinson, leading his charge, left the 
 glowing kitchen of the " Jolly Jumper," and 
 was soon struggling with the darkness on his 
 way home.
 
 73 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Sunday morning ! Sweetly floated the 
 sound of bells over Irkdale ; sweetly wafted 
 gentle breezes over meadows and tlirough 
 rustling woods ; sweetly hummed the bees in 
 gardens and warm sunny nooks, where 
 flowers yet lingered, and sweetly the thrush 
 poured its matin hymn from the branches 
 upon which he had sung all Summer time. 
 The morn was inviting all nature to worship. 
 The fields and hedges appeared to be newly 
 washed and trimmed, and dressed in their 
 holiday attire. The river that " went on its 
 way rejoicing," tuned its carols to the low 
 sweet song which the spirit of the valley 
 seemed to be murmuring in fairy syllablings. 
 The rain that had fallen in gentle showers the 
 night before had formed thousands of mirrors 
 in tiny pools and clustering hedgerows that
 
 74 IRKDALE. 
 
 made even the sunshine more glad, and tlie 
 grass and herbage — green as a fresh salad — 
 lay not in twisted " elf-locks," but straight 
 and glossy as the hair of the little children 
 who toddled that morning down the field- 
 paths to school. The cattle lowed or slept on 
 sunny banks, as if they, too, had been apprized 
 of its being Sabbath, and joined in the w^or- 
 ship, or drank in the harmonies of that hal- 
 lowed time; and human worshippers, as 
 if lacking some of the instinct which stirred 
 all nature to the adoration of God's glory, put 
 on forms of sanctity that were in outward 
 accordance with Sabbath rites and the keep- 
 ing holy of the day, as it was ordained to be 
 kept. The thrifty villager, to prove that he 
 was not a worldling in every sense, prepared 
 himself to air his Sunday coat in the house of 
 prayer, and court salvation with seeming 
 earnestness of supplication. For this purpose 
 he hath w\ilked staidly from his cottage door 
 — erect with the consciousness of one who 
 deemed the world would be no worse from a 
 show of piety, though only on the seventli day
 
 IRKDALE. 75 
 
 assumed. Even he Avho at times regards 
 with levity the laws of Sabbath keeping, hath 
 now divided his care for this world and the 
 next, by strolling thoughtfully among the 
 meadows, and now and then lifting his eyes 
 to Heaven, as if he felt some tone of the 
 divine spirit steaHng like an unknown melody 
 into his being. 
 
 The face of earth was strewn with living 
 and inanimate beauty. Lanes were twinkling 
 vdth the smiles of rosy youth, as fields and 
 woods were with nature's bris^htest looks. 
 Fluttering with heyday blood and the religion 
 of the young heart's love, the maiden of ripen- 
 ing summers steals like a gleam of sunshine 
 into the shadow of the church porch, whilst 
 lesser yeanlings from Christ's fold trip more 
 lightly over the grass, and press each tomb- 
 stone with so gentle a step that, if the dead 
 could hear and feel, would make the grave a 
 place in which more than the weariest would 
 seek repose. Apart from the rest, but in 
 harmony with the scene, earth seemed to have 
 made a posy of a sweet group of little folks
 
 76 IRKDALE. 
 
 who stood aside as if arrested by some hidden 
 power that wished to show the gaudily-arrayed 
 how beautiful was simplicity ; and the richly- 
 appointed carriage swept past with a dimmed 
 lustre on its bearings, from contrast with that 
 garland of fresh and innocent childhood. 
 
 Jacob Robinson had risen early on this 
 Sabbath morning, as indeed was his wont on 
 oth^r days, even in the depth of winter ; for 
 odd and capricious as was our friend in 
 general things, no one loved nature more than 
 he ; and as he opened his casement to admit 
 the sweet breath of morning, and beheld the 
 sun making seraph's wings of the light mist 
 which lingered in the valley, if his lips did not 
 utter, " Glory be to God, the Creator of 
 ALL THINGS," his heart throbbed with its own 
 devotion, and sent up its praise to the throne 
 of the Most High. 
 
 As for the rest of the house, they wTrc 
 still sleeping. His spouse Nanny would have 
 an hour or two yet, and Dick would sleep till 
 dinner time, " or till th' sun brunt him cawt," 
 as his father would say, if no one awakened
 
 IRKDALE. 77 
 
 him. Jacob wondered how his httlc guest 
 was faring ; and as soon as he had shpped on 
 his knee-breeches, and drawn his lamb's wool 
 over his calves, for in dress our friend was the 
 model "old Englishman," he betook himself 
 to the room where the child was sleeping. 
 How quiet and how beautiful she lay in that 
 little nest, and how sleep seemed to be playing 
 about her face — now moving her lips to 
 smiles, then dancing upon the soft lashes of 
 her eyes, as if it would emulate death, and 
 entice her soul away to where "Angels ever 
 bright and fair," sang the eternal hymn of 
 love. 
 
 Jacob gazed long and earnestly at the 
 sleeping child, whilst strange thoughts and 
 wishes flitted through his mind. Would it 
 be possible, he wondered, that she could be 
 allowed to remain with them — be his own 
 little daughter growing up to womanhood 
 beneath his care ? She was just the monitor 
 he wanted, to soften and guide his stubborn 
 nature ; for he felt that he had been hardened 
 against many things, though his heart was
 
 78 IRKDALE. 
 
 melting then, as it had often done, at the 
 sight of lovehness. He felt charmed with 
 the idea, and saw, as he fancied, in the future 
 a living ornament to his old age in the tender 
 shoot before him, loving him as Avould his 
 own child, had she been living, and ministering 
 with gentle care to his domestic wants. But 
 what an outrage to the real father to rob him 
 of such a treasure ! 
 
 Whilst the joiner was thus communing 
 with himself, the sleeper opened her eyes, 
 gave an uneasy start, and looked wonderingly 
 around at the strangeness of the place, and at 
 the strange guardian that was bending over 
 her. She had never seen that room before — 
 never the little waxen doll that hung over tlie 
 mantelpiece, nor the little cradle that stood 
 on the shelf beside it ; nor had she till then 
 beheld the flowers that clustered about the 
 window, or the oaken chest, whose top was a 
 very bazaar of curious but homely-looking 
 toys. That was not her home — nor was it 
 her parent that stood by the bedside, thougli 
 he must be kind from the very loving look he
 
 IRKDALE. 79 
 
 gave her; and the child's hope became stronger, 
 and her fears more at rest, as the incidents of 
 the previous night came to her recollection — 
 of her being carried to bed, and a tender hand 
 folding the bed-clothes about her, and the 
 tones of that strange " good-night " that had 
 mingled with the images of her sweetest 
 dreams, and now haunted her waking mo- 
 ments. 
 
 Jacob felt embarrassed by this unexpected 
 wakening of his guest. She ought to have 
 slept longer after so tiresome a journey. But 
 perhaps it was the strangeness of the lodgings 
 that had stirred her so early ; for he remem- 
 bered that the only time he had ever slept 
 from home, he might as well have stayed up 
 all night, from any proper rest he obtained. 
 The child was broad awake, that was certain, 
 and appeared inclined for leaving her nest ; 
 but how could she dress without the assistance 
 of his dame, who would, he was sure, be cross 
 if disturbed at that early* hour? An idea 
 came to his deliverance. He would try to 
 perform the duties of a mother or nurse him-
 
 80 IRKDALE. 
 
 self in assisting the child with her toilet ; and 
 with this purpose in view he ascertained the 
 wishes of the latter as to whether she would 
 get up, or stay where she was. The little one 
 placed her hand in his, rose from her pillow, 
 and the next moment her arms were clinging 
 round his neck. 
 
 Our friend at once proceeded down-stairs 
 with his charge, and the toilet was commenced 
 in earnest. What a spectacle ! how ludicrous 
 — how affecting ! the clumsy joiner passing 
 his big rough hands through the glossy hair, 
 and over the delicate hce, and round the 
 ivory shoulders of the child, uttering words 
 of endearment the while, and she smiling 
 through the bright " pink and white " that 
 the gently-applied towel assisted in developing. 
 Now the ablutions are over,^ — the dressing is 
 performed after much fastening and unfasten- 
 ing of divers straps and buttons that would 
 make their appearance in wrong places, as if 
 they had been attaahed on purpose to puzzle 
 him ; and when the child's hair, which na- 
 turally clustered in raven curls, was adjusted,
 
 IRKDALE. 81 
 
 and a huge piece of plum pasty had been 
 placed in her hand, Jacob sallied out into the 
 garden, followed by his little guest. 
 
 The two seated themselves upon a rude 
 bench that stood beneath an apple-tree, 
 and near which the bees were performing 
 their morning's duties. There were flowers 
 too about them, and Jacob looked with pride 
 on the one beside him, as though he thought 
 she eclipsed in beauty every flower since Eden, 
 and he addressed quaint gallantries to her, 
 such as old people may be supposed to in- 
 vent wherewith to beguile the infancy of their 
 grandchildren. Sometimes he would amuse 
 her by seeming to chase a butterfly, but 
 which he Avould suffer to escape through an 
 assumed awkwardness in the pm'suit ; then 
 he would pluck a flower and fix it in the 
 child's hair, or bosom, making thereby quite 
 a juvenile " Ophelia " of her ; or he would 
 peep beneath the gooseberry trees, to see if 
 any remained of the late crop, and which, 
 when found, he would pour into the lap of 
 his little mistress. These gallant offices per-
 
 82 IRKDALE. 
 
 formed, he would seat himself again on the 
 bench, and indulge in some, to his listener, 
 unintelligible observations on the beauties of 
 nature, the science of bee-keeping, and the 
 lessons to be derived from a study of the 
 organic construction of plants. Finding the 
 latter remarks did not appear to impress his 
 pupil with any abstract ideas of botanical 
 science, Jacob changed the subject to a dis- 
 course upon dolls, and apples, and lolly pop ; 
 and concluded his observations by shaking a 
 tree from which dropped a delicious-looking 
 " Kessick," that was eagerly picked up by the 
 little girl. Then Jacob bethought himself he 
 would endeavour to elicit something rela- 
 tive to his guest's history ; whither she came, 
 what were her parents, and what their posi- 
 tion in society. So after gazing at the child 
 for some minutes, during which he was in- 
 w^ardly wondering how people could possibly 
 be evilly disposed with such "pratty things 
 as thoose abeawt 'cm," he introduced his in- 
 quiries by the question — 
 " What art coed ? "
 
 IRKDALE. 83 
 
 The girl looked up inquiringly, as if 
 scarcely comprehending the meaning of the 
 question put. 
 
 " What's thy name ? " said the joiner, a 
 httle more intelligibly. 
 
 " Adelaide," replied the other. 
 
 " Oh, Queen Adelaide." 
 
 " No, sir, Adelaide Wilson." 
 
 " Wilson, Adelaide Wilson ? I wondhur," 
 said the joiner to himself, " whether hoo's owt 
 akin to th' Wilsons i' Moston, or owd Tummy 
 Wilson, th' praicher ? But hoo happen does 
 n o'know that." 
 
 " Wheere wur t' bom ? " he said aloud. 
 
 " I don't know, sir," was the reply. 
 
 " What, noa know wheere theaw're born ? 
 Dear me, heaw strange ! " and Jacob again 
 spoke as if to himself, " I know where I wur 
 born ; an, if I couldno remember that spot, 
 so pratty as it looks to me neaw, an' so 
 monny yer sin' I seed it, I shouldno care if I 
 recollected nowt. Poor wench, poor wench, 
 doesno know her come-fro ! Well, an' what's 
 thy fcyther's name ? "
 
 84 IRKDALE. 
 
 " Pa's name ? " said the girl, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Ay, yes^ Jacob blurted out, " I mun 
 talk a bite fine, I see." 
 
 " Pa's name," said the child, " is Edward, 
 Edward Wilson." 
 
 " 1 never knew no Neds among th' Mos- 
 ton Wilsons," said Jacob, aside ; so hoo mun 
 be of another stock. Well, an' heaw — lung's 
 thy — thy — mam bin deead ? " he said aloud, 
 and with an effort to " talk fine," as he had 
 expressed himself. 
 
 " Ma isn't dead'' replied the child. 
 
 " Poorly— sick ? " 
 
 " Don't know, sir." 
 
 " Why, where is hoo — she, I mean ? " 
 
 " Don't know, sir." 
 
 " Han yo' left her?" 
 
 " No, sir ; she left us." 
 
 " Left yo', did hoo ? " 
 
 The child hung down her head, and when 
 her interrogator stooped to see the cause of 
 her silence, he saw that tears were streaming 
 down her cheeks. 
 
 " Oh, I see," said the joiner, as if he
 
 IRKDALE. 85 
 
 divined tlic whole histoiy of the child's be- 
 reavement at one glance. " I've yerd o' sich 
 things before, but never knew nowt o' th' sort 
 i' Irkdale. We are no civilized enoogh here. 
 This cornes o' yor newspappers, an' yor rail- 
 roads, an' yor gooin' abeawt to sae-sides. 
 Oh, I know. Thank God I'm as they sen, 
 fifty yer behind other folk. I wish I're a 
 himdert, if that maks one betther; I do." 
 
 Jacob had risen from his seat, and was 
 now pacing backwards and forwards in an 
 agitated manner. 
 
 " Gone an' left that pink o'th' garden, is 
 hoo ? Heaw could a moather do it ? What 
 could hoo see i' fifty theawsunt foos an 
 scamps that ud tm-n her yed fro' sich a blos- 
 som as this, an see no beauty in it for t' mak 
 her stick like an owd broody hen ut winno be 
 byetten ofi" th' neest ? Wheay, a pig would 
 nor ha' done it. If I thowt yond owd sow o' 
 mine ud forsake th' cote, an' Iceave her young 
 uns beawt pap, — I'd punse her dampert yed 
 off* i' two minits, — that I would. Neaw, then
 
 86 IRKDALE. 
 
 Sunday too, — but I could uor help it — I could 
 nor help it ! " And Jacob bowed his head and 
 paused, whilst his heart sent up its prayer for 
 forgiveness of the oath that had so unwittingly 
 escaped him. He looked at the child again, 
 then over the hedge, and resumed his strong 
 invective. 
 
 " Unfeehn' wratches ! Hosses, jackasses, 
 keaws are fifty milliont times nar God than 
 yo' are, if ther actions arc owt t' goo by. 
 Look at 'em yonder, lickin' ther bits o' yung 
 uns o'er as if they'rn gooin' t' ate 'em at one 
 meawthful. An' thoose han no souls, noather. 
 Eh, wimmen, wimmen ! if yor ways wur 
 hawve as pratty as yorsels, what a rare woald 
 we should have ! If that owd besom o' 
 mine " 
 
 He was prevented making further personal 
 allusions to an unoflFending member of his 
 household by the appearance of a night-cap- 
 ped head thrusting itself through one of the 
 bed-room windows, and a voice calling out — 
 
 " Jacob, whatever art makkin' that noyse 
 abeawt, an someb'dy bin knockin' at th' dur
 
 IRKDALE. 87 
 
 this hawve lieawr ? Go thy ways an' see 
 whoa it is." 
 
 " Oh Nan, is that thee ? " observed the 
 joiner, casting an upward glance at the win- 
 dow just as the night-cap was retreating. 
 " Ther'll summut happen if theaw gets up so 
 soon." Then a soft whispering of the bells 
 canie upon his ear, and he stood listening un- 
 til his soul was calmed, and the stern expres- 
 sion of his face had relaxed into one more be- 
 tokening reconciliation with human nature, 
 and a charitable view of its frailties : as if 
 music could impart softness and gentleness to 
 a disposition at war with humankind, and 
 lead it to feelings and acts of love and 
 mercy. No wonder that music has been 
 regarded as the chief employment of angels, 
 since it ministers to so angelic a purpose. 
 But Jacob heard the knocking at the door, 
 and judging it to proceed from the child's 
 father on his promised visit, he sauntered into 
 the house to receive him.
 
 88 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The knocking at the door proceeded, as 
 Jacob had supposed, from the stranger, whom 
 he had invited the evening before to come and 
 share the hospitahty of the " Odd House." 
 This gentleman, whom we will now call j\Ir 
 Wilson, had risen early to enjoy the beauty 
 and freshness of the morning, notwithstand- 
 ing the fatigue he felt from the previous day's 
 travel, and had been sniffing the sweet air of 
 Irkdale for upwards of an hour. His ap- 
 pearance, as may be supposed, was much im- 
 proved by a night's rest, and other comforts 
 to which the hospitable attentions of our host 
 and hostess of the "Jolly Jumper" had 
 mainly contributed. His features had less of 
 that haggard look which had so impressed his 
 entertainers on their first acquaintance, and 
 the wild and nervous expression of his eyes
 
 IRKDALE. 89 
 
 had given Avay to one more calm and fixed, 
 as though he found himself settling down into 
 a stiller life than had of late years been his 
 lot. There was the sHghtest possible flush in 
 his cheek that promised a more healthy habit, 
 and his forehead appeared to have rid itself of 
 much of its care-suggesting heaviness. His 
 hair and moustache were more trim than we 
 have hitherto observed of those embeUish- 
 ments, and his neckerchief was more carefully 
 adjusted than he seemed to have cared about 
 at another time. In short, Mr Wilson, if he 
 had not changed his attire, had assumed quite 
 a hohday tone in his personal bearing that 
 contrasted favourably with what Jacob Robin- 
 son had hitherto seen of him, and the greet- 
 ing between the two was as cordial as could 
 be expected of strangers. 
 
 " Little Addy," as Jacob insisted upon 
 calling the child, was as much improved in 
 her appearance as was her father, and the 
 latter could not help uttering an exclamation 
 of astonishment, as the former, with all the 
 bloom and freshness of the morning on her
 
 90 IRKDALE. 
 
 checks, gave him her accustomed sahite when 
 she met him at the door. 
 
 " I'm fain yo're comn," said Jacob, giving 
 the sulky fire a lift with a poker that would 
 have made a Cockney stagger on beholding, 
 for our friend was partial to good fires, and 
 would place his back to one, Lancashire like, 
 on the hottest day in summer. "It's very- 
 nee my breakfast time, an' bein' Sunday, we'n 
 put th' porritch-dish upo' th' shelf, for one's 
 stomach is a bit halidayish as weel as one's 
 sel'. Dun yo' see nowt here ? " he added, 
 opening the oven door to the back, and ex- 
 hibiting a round-belHed jar-shaped mug that 
 was emitting a very agreeable odour. "If 
 yo' hanno forgetten th' owd soil yo' known 
 what that is. Just smell, an' if it doesno' mak 
 wayther t' come i' yor meawth I'm soory for 
 yor inside." 
 
 Mr Wilson smiled. 
 
 " You keep up the old custom, I see," he 
 observed, " broth on a Sunday. It was my 
 old father's favomite mess, as I well re- 
 member."
 
 IRKDALE. 91 
 
 " Broth I " exclaimed the joiner, with a 
 feehng of contemptuous astonishment pictured 
 in his countenance, and a shght bristHng up 
 of his short hair. "Dun yo' co that hroth? 
 I reckon yo'n fed upo' frog-pie till yo'n for- 
 getten gradely English mayte. That's a 
 thumpin' stew, I'll have yo' t' know, abeawt 
 th' size o'th limb of an oak tree. Noane o' 
 yor wayther gruel theere, wi' abeawt three or 
 four stars on it, as if it wur t' be a dark neet 
 wi' yor stomach. Nawe, nawe; a mess o' 
 that between yor ribs '11 quieten th' grumbles 
 for a clock -]-eawnd if yo'n nowt-else. Theere's 
 summut, too, ut'U mak it feel like a whul 
 buttery i' yor meawth," he continued, pointing 
 to a " flake " or " fleigh," well thatched with 
 crisp-looking and nicely-browned oat-cakes, 
 which curled over the strings that held them 
 like a bishop's hat brim inverted. "Yo'n 
 seen nowt o' that sort i' France, I'll uphowd 
 yo'. They're owd Tummy Booth* bakin', an' 
 as sweet an' as neppy, they are, as ginsbred. 
 Come, let's see if eawr Dick's gooin' to mak a 
 * A noted baker of oat-cakes.
 
 92 IRKDALE. 
 
 coffin of his bed, for it's time he're up. I 
 should ha' t' draw him hke a badger if he 
 knew they're anybody strange i'th' heawse, for 
 he's as shy at new faces as a brid at a cum- 
 boggart, is yon lad." 
 
 AVith that, Jacob went to the foot of the 
 stairs, and giving a kick at the bottom step 
 that might have been intended to knock down 
 the whole staircase, inquired in a tone that 
 was a good accompaniment to the action, if 
 his hopeful heir was about to " lift his shanks 
 o'er th' bed-rail." 
 
 This inquiry was immediately followed by 
 a loud bump on the chamber floor, accom- 
 panied by the apparently momentous question 
 from above — " Is th' stew ready, feyther ? " 
 
 " Ready, behanged ! " replied the parent, 
 winking at his elder guest, and chuckling 
 with quiet glee, " Theaw'll happen be i' time 
 for th' Iceavins, if theaw'll be shai^p ! He'll 
 be i'th stairs in a crack neaw he's yerd that, 
 an' as soon back agen when he's seen you — 
 mind if he isno. He's a queer lad. Dick's 
 hatbant wur a foo to liim. As merry as a
 
 IRKDALE. 93 
 
 brid he is when he's by hissel ; but when any- 
 body's with him he's as mopin' as an owd hen 
 i'th' raeawt." 
 
 The joiner had scarcely finished his ob- 
 servations on his son's odd temperament than 
 Mr Wilson was startled by a waistcoat being 
 flung down-stairs, followed by an inquiry from 
 the top if the owner of the garment might be 
 allowed to " don " it first thing. This request 
 being granted without reservation, the youth, 
 for it was Dick, commenced descending the 
 stairs after a manner peculiarly his own; a 
 succession of bumps indicating to the listener 
 that the process adopted was not of the 
 speediest. Bump, bump, bump, however, 
 until the bottom step was reached, which then 
 discovered a fine ruddy-faced young fellow of 
 about ten or eleven Summers, with a head so 
 completely denuded of hair as almost to re- 
 semble a milliner's block. Ho was without 
 stockings, and the waistband of his trousers 
 was drawn up to within an inch of his armpits 
 by very narrow straps of leather, which had to 
 do the duty of braces. The youth was taken
 
 94 IRKDALE. 
 
 by surprise on seeing there were strangers in 
 the house, and the celerity with which he re- 
 treated to the top of the stairs showed that 
 the slowness of his descent did not proceed 
 from physical inability to move at a quicker 
 pace. 
 
 "Theere neaw, I towd yo'," observed 
 Jacob, when his son had disappeared, "off 
 like a shot th' minnit he see'd yo'. He'd 
 keawer up th' stairs a' day if I did no fotcli 
 him by th' skuft o' th' neck; or he'd be 
 makkin' a' sorts o' marlacks wi' th' bedclooas 
 an' cheears an' drawers — tumblin' 'em a' of a 
 rook like an owd goods shop. I've some 
 hopes o' that lad, I have ; he's as owd-fashint 
 an' as fause as a boggart, an' sticks to owd 
 things an' owd sorts, same as if he're a' teeth. 
 King Saul comes a neet or two a week for t' 
 put him into figurin' a bit, for I've bin an 
 owd thickyed ut slate larnin' mysel, an' I 
 meean t' have him summat different. Saul, 
 yo seen, is one o'th' owd sort, too, an' no' 
 likely t' put any new-fanglet notions i'th' lad's 
 yed, same as these bits o' sprcawts o' skoo-
 
 IRKDALE. 95 
 
 mesthers done ueaw o' days. If he does no' 
 niak a foo o' new books an' ways o' thinkin', 
 I'll hang him in a dog-collar afore he bruits 
 his beeart." 
 
 "But what makes him so shy?" Mr 
 Wilson inquired. 
 
 " Oh," replied Jacob, " it's his avarsion to 
 owt uts strange, or ut he hasno seen th' like 
 on before. If yo'd had a white appern on, 
 and a pair o' clogs, an' a pipe i' yo'r meawth, 
 he happen wouldno' ha' ta'en th' boggart at 
 yo so soon, for th' lad sees nowt mich beside, 
 but just as mich as I want him t' do. Never 
 hardly goes eawt o' th' Hollow, nobbut when 
 he goes a bearin' whoam for his mother to th' 
 wareheawse i' Manchester; an' that he'll 
 hardly do if he con get her t' goo in his place. 
 It's i'th' family on us, I reckon, for his gron- 
 feyther, Owd Square-yed, as they co'ed him, 
 wur th' same. He're an owd Jacobin, wur 
 my feyther, an' cusst church an' king as lung 
 as he'd wynt, an' sheawted for Turn Paine till 
 he're throttlet ofiF it." 
 
 " ]\Iv father held a similar faith," observed
 
 96 IRKDALE. 
 
 Mr Wilson, " and would have bequeathed his 
 creed to his son, along with a beggar's herit- 
 age, had I not learned to think and judge for 
 myself." 
 
 "Ay, ay, — so it wur wi' me," said the 
 joiner, shaking his head and looking thought- 
 fully at the fire. " But he could no mak me 
 quite as savage as he wur. I'd getten a bit 
 of an inklin' i' my yed ut ther summut beside 
 this woald for us ; but what it wur, or heaw we 
 must get at it, bothert me above a little." 
 
 "And in that case you appealed to your 
 Bible, which would inform you." 
 
 "Ay, well, I did sometimes, as I do yet, 
 moander abeawt i'th' oiocl hook till I welly geet 
 eawt o' concait wi folk, they favvert bein' so 
 mich diflPerent to what they should be; an' 
 thoose too ut coen thersels gradely up to th' 
 mark i' religion, wi' texts o' Scriptyer i' ther 
 mcawths ut they con shoot eawt as readily as 
 paes eawt of a kex. I see 'em lay in' ther reli- 
 gion by wi' ther Sunday clooas, boxed up 
 nicely wi' neps for t' keep it sweet, an' th' 
 Sunday after tak it up as an owd woniman
 
 IRKDALE. 97 
 
 docs her knittin', an' as unconcarned abeawt 
 what theyn done o'th' o'er week, as if heaven 
 wiirno' worth above one day's thowt eawt o' 
 seven." 
 
 "That may be said of many people, I 
 must admit," said Mr Wilson, somewhat edi- 
 fied by the arguments of his host and his odd 
 way of putting them, " but we meet with 
 some whose earnest devotion on the Sabbath 
 day will surely balance a slight account of 
 worldliness they may have suffered to come 
 over them during the intervals of their wor- 
 ship." 
 
 " Just so," admitted the joiner ; " but 
 heaw con they wipe eawt a score o' wicked- 
 ness an' deviltry and selfishness wi' a cop- 
 web teawel ? And some folk ut I know han 
 it choaked up like a fuddler's ale shot ut 
 hasno bin reckont for months, an' ut's thowt 
 too big for t' ever be paid. It doesno do, I 
 know, to say ill o' one's neighbours ; but if 
 th' owd book says reet ther's some on 'em han 
 getten a fearfu' shopscore wi' th' owd black- 
 smith ut'll oather ha' t* be paid off same as
 
 OS IRKDALE. 
 
 Dives paid his, or else wiped eawt wi' a 
 rougher mop nor they calkilatn' on. Look at 
 this neaw, an' if it doesno show yo' what 
 wrung notions some folk han abeawt what 
 maks good Christians, yo' may say ut my 
 senses han gettn o'th' wrung side o' my yed 
 for once an' away. Yon's eawr Nanny stir- 
 rin', I yer ; ther'll be some signs o' that stew 
 coming eawt of it hole e'enncaw, I see," and 
 Jacob again stuck the poker into the fire and 
 Ufted a mass of it considerably nearer the 
 chimney. 
 
 After succeeding in his endeavour to 
 make the blaze lick the rack-an'-hook, the 
 joiner spread himself at the hob, and resumed 
 his discourse. 
 
 "Ther's a chapel deawn here," he said, 
 "ut belongs to a sort o' folk they co'en 
 * Skinners,' an' I think by th' wa}s o' some 
 on 'em they're pratty weel namet. They're 
 for havin' a' heaven to therscls for owt I 
 know, an' they'd pike th' y earth till ther 
 nowt nobbut booan laft, if they mut have 
 their own way. They'n turnt ther backs
 
 IRKDALE. 99 
 
 iipo' everybody else, for they sen tlier's 
 iiob'dy nobbut their own set ut's gooin' tli' 
 reet road ; an' for my part I'd as lief goo to 
 a comfortable corner o'tli totlier shop as 
 keep company wi' some o' their brun. One 
 o' ther elders wur Johnny Wrigley, a dearly 
 beloved neighbour o' mine, he wur oncet, an' 
 as arrant an owd rascot as ever higglet wi' 
 owd Nick. His fingers wurn set like a bur 
 for scrattin', an' if he'd an idea ut anybody 
 wur gettin' tuppunce ut he^thowt he should 
 have hissel, he'd ha' gone into a tremblin' 
 fit, an' sed th' woald could no' last lung, it 
 wur gettin' so selfish an' wicked. 
 
 " WeU, Johnny gan up his spoon* one day 
 beawt havin' any mooar warnin' nor other 
 folk, an' it caused sich a doomentation amung 
 his brothers an' sisters at th' chapel, at some 
 on em took to, an' slattert ther tears same as if 
 they'd lost th' corks o'ther e'en. Well, he'd bin 
 sich a backset to ther church ut' the pa'son 
 must praich a buryin' sarmon for him th' Sun- 
 
 * Gan up Ms sjjoon; synonymous with "Kicked 
 the bucket : " — died.
 
 iOO IRKDALE. 
 
 day after hc're buried, an' when th' day 
 coom I thowt a' th' napkins i' th' hollow 'ud 
 hardly ha' moppt up th' e'e wayther ut wur 
 parted with by the congregation. Owd 
 Thumpbook wur praichin', an' as soon as he 
 gan eawt his text he sed — I recollect th' 
 words — ^ Amung tJi sons o' men ?/csferda?/, 
 an^ to-day T glory. ^ Yo may be sure ut I 
 begun o' thinkin' till I're welly moidcrt abcawt 
 this, an' wondert heaw it wur ut such an owd 
 scape-Sattin as Johnny could geet th' reel 
 side o' God o' Meety wi' nubbut pooin he's 
 face every Sunday, after six days' lyin' an' 
 chettin', an' grabbin' at carnal things, as I 
 knew he did. I met ha' sed mooar, but I 
 know ray owd dame has a bit of a Icynin' 
 toart 'era, an' hoo wouldno behave so far- 
 rantly, if hoo yerd what I're talkin' abeawt." 
 
 The discourse upon the subject which onr 
 friend had introduced was brought to a pause 
 by his spouse Nanny presenting lierself at the 
 foot of the stairs ; the nightcap still enclosing 
 a face whose expression hardly indicated a 
 temper of the worst kind. She appeared to
 
 IRKDALE. 101 
 
 be younger by several years than her hus- 
 band, and no doubt had she been trimmed up 
 in costume suitable to her person, she might 
 easily have been taken for his daughter. 
 Nanny was, however, rather antiquated in her 
 style of dressing ; a lilac-printed bedgown, of 
 a pattern so unpretending as scarcely to be 
 distinguished from the self-coloured article, 
 substituting the more modern fashion of outer 
 garment, beneath the skirts of which she 
 wore a thick gray linsey petticoat, with ample 
 tucks plaited warmly over it, made her whole 
 appearance one in which a simple matronly 
 grace was the prevaiHng feature. Add to 
 this that a white glossy woollen napkin was 
 neatly spread over her shoulders, its corners 
 being fastened in front to her apron strings, 
 and at the back pinned to her bedgown, and 
 the reader may get some idea of the persomiel of 
 the lady whom Jacob Robinson was pleased 
 to call his " owd dame." 
 
 If the looks of the latter person might be 
 accepted as the index to her heart, she was 
 hardly the vixen Jacob would have led his
 
 102 IRKDALE. 
 
 guest to expect. On the contraiy, her face 
 wore a smile of so sober yet so assuring an 
 expression, that Mr Wilson could not help 
 feeling thoroughly at home under its influ- 
 ence. A pair of " list " slippers bore her over 
 the floor with a gentle and Cjuiet tread, that 
 seemed to say " Sabbath " in each soft foot- 
 fall as it lisped among the sand with which 
 the floor was strewn, and the mild, but some- 
 what nervous accents in which she wished the 
 elder visitor " Good morning ! " adding, 
 " An' to thee, little love," as she glanced at 
 the child, appeared further to enhance the 
 beauty and holiness of that morning in the 
 stranger's estimation. 
 
 " I think hoo's slept weel, Jacob, bless 
 her ? " observed the dame, referring to the 
 child by another expressive look. 
 
 " Ay, like a top," the joiner affirmed. 
 
 "An' that's a wonder, seein' ut every- 
 thing's strange to her." 
 
 " But she would be quite tired out," said 
 Mr Wilson. 
 
 " Ay, poor thing ! " And Nanny drew
 
 IRKDALE. 103 
 
 the child to her knee, and gently smoothed 
 down her hair. 
 
 " We happen hanno' as fine a heawse as 
 yo'n bin used to," continued the dame, di- 
 recting her observations this time to Mr Wil- 
 son ; " but it's cleean, an harbours nowt, I 
 hope, ut ud do ill to a worm." 
 
 "It is not in me to think otherwise," re- 
 phed Mr Wilson ; " and even were I dis- 
 posed, your kindness to a stranger who had 
 no claim upon you save that of common 
 humanity, would be sufficient to remove all 
 doubt on that score." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure yo're welcome," Nanny 
 added, " if it is but little one can do. I could 
 no' mak it eawt yesterneet what eawr felly 
 wur abeawt when he coom whoam, an' I hap- 
 pen sed things ut I shouldno' ha' done, for 
 sometimes he comes whoam so queer when 
 he's had a pint above he's leawance, an' I 
 think he'd mooar nor did him good yester- 
 neet, at any rate." 
 
 " Well, never mind what noather theaw 
 sed nor I sed " insisted Jacob, looking? wist-
 
 104 IRKDALE. 
 
 fully in the direction of the oven-door ; " if I 
 had a pint o'er messur ther's summut thcere 
 ut'll put me to reets, i'th' snifter of a rappit. 
 So let's be havin' it eawt o'th' oon, an I'll put 
 a wut cake to th' foyer for t' be toastiu'. 
 What's yon lad doin' up-stairs ? " 
 
 " He're stondin' on his yed agen th' 
 drawers when I coom deawn," replied the 
 lad's mother. 
 
 " I'll mak him," said the father, " ut he'll 
 noa know which eend he's on e'enneaw, if he 
 does no come deawn th' stairs ; " then reach- 
 ing down an oat cake, he placed it before the 
 newly " scaled " fire to toast, whilst his help- 
 mate drew the stew-mug from its simmering- 
 place, and set it down inside the fender. 
 
 Jacob having commenced his toasting 
 operations, and after instructing his spouse to 
 turn the cake before it was " red wot," made 
 an incursion into the retreat of his refractory 
 son, a sharp yell intimating the amount of 
 chastisement inflicted on the wayward youth, 
 who came bouncing down-stairs with the 
 utmost trepidation, and apparently regardless
 
 IRKDALE. 105 
 
 of the presence of strangers. After scratch- 
 ing his head a moment, the dehnquent crept 
 behind the table, and slowly made his pas- 
 sage in the direction of a low stool, which he 
 dropped upon without the slightest invitation. 
 So far introduced to the strangers, Dick made 
 bold to peep betwixt his knuckles at the elder 
 party, afterwards surveying the younger more 
 distinctly, and with diminished reserve. His 
 father now presenting himself with a severely 
 admonitory look in his countenance, the youth 
 sprang upon his feet, and made hasty search 
 for his missing stockings. These having been 
 found, after considerable hunting in unhkely 
 places, such as inside the ^oven, in the salt- 
 box, and amongst the many-coloured contents 
 of a bag of patch-work, Dick became easier in 
 his deportment, and made evident progress in 
 his reconcihation with the visitors. He even 
 gave an insinuating look in the direction of 
 one of his pockets, as if he would convey to 
 the youngest of his new acquaintances an 
 intimation that it contained something with 
 which juvenile taste is not inaptly associated,
 
 106 IRKDALE. 
 
 in the shape of toffy, fruit, or marbles. This 
 became the prelude to other gallantries, for 
 the girl meeting his advances with a not un- 
 friendly smile, encouraged him to such displays 
 of familiarity as completely to take his father 
 " off his legs " with surprise. The latter, but 
 from a feeling of his better nature, might have 
 frowned- a reproof at his son's so far forgettmg 
 his " owd-fashindness " as to evince the pos- 
 session of other and frailer qualities, common 
 to youth of an unpecuhar bent; instead of 
 that he merely gave a passing grunt, as if he 
 regarded the circumstance as one of the 
 unaccountable eccentricities of human nature. 
 The equanimity of the family group being 
 thus restored, and the offending member hav- 
 ing brightened up his looks by a liberal ap- 
 plication of soap and water, and the brisk 
 administration of a rough towel, the head of 
 the house resumed his preparations for what 
 he might have termed the substantial introduc- 
 tion to his Sunday "sarvice." Three large 
 bowls of reeking stew, well garnished by a 
 milky-way of Jacob's favourite constellations,
 
 IRKDALE. 107 
 
 vrere placed upon the table, to which were 
 added systematically broken pieces of the 
 toasted oat-cake, stuck in edgeways, so as to 
 resemble an accumulation of drifted ice. The 
 female members of the breakfast party were 
 to feast on the more delicate fare offered by 
 tea and new muffin, which the joiner charac- 
 terized as " sloppy," and unfavourable to the 
 growth of bone and muscle, but which his 
 spouse regarded as the indispensable compo- 
 nents of a " gradely wimmen's breakfast," 
 especially adapted for Sunday mornings. 
 
 The table around which they all assembled 
 was a spacious one, and strongly made, as if 
 intended to be handed down to a tenth gener- 
 ation of the Robinsons, Jacob had made it 
 himself, as might have been supposed from 
 the stubbornness of the legs, which would not 
 give way to ordinary kicks, but kept their 
 position with the firmness of the parish stocks. 
 The joiner took his place at the board with 
 the air of a domestic king, where he sat 
 ladUng and blowing his "mess" like a hungry 
 Boreas, and looking invitation to his guests
 
 lOS IRKDALE. 
 
 with an expression in his countenance more 
 welcobaing than words can utter. " Little 
 Addy " took a seat near her father, the op- 
 posite side of the table being ornamented by 
 the unkempt head of the junior Robinson, 
 who was not yet allowed to sit over his meals, 
 through a prejudice the father entertained that 
 growing youths, when they took a recumbent 
 position at table, deprived their legs of a pro- 
 portionate share of the nutriment the meal 
 afforded. 
 
 " Neaw, Dick, behave thysel afore I knock 
 thy left ear off. No marlocks afore strangers. 
 If that is nor enough for thee theaw con ha' 
 mooar when theaw's swallut it ; so use thy 
 spoon for what it wur made for." 
 
 This injunction was called forth from Jacob 
 by his having observed Dick engaged in fa- 
 thoming the depth of his bowl by dipping 
 his spoon into it, and afterwards contemplating 
 with a look of mixed satisfaction and surprise 
 the greasy registration on the spoon handle. 
 No other incident interfered with the har- 
 mony of the breakfast table, so Jacob took
 
 IRKDALE. 109 
 
 his " slip-tliroat " with expressive gobbles, and 
 munched at his " sops " until his cheeks came 
 out in full bloom, and the dew hung upon his 
 forehead in healthy drops, that called in fre- 
 quent requisition the apron which he had tied 
 about his loins. He now felt that he had 
 attained such a degree of physical and mental 
 fimmess (thanks to the quality of his break- 
 fast) as to be enabled to break to the stranger 
 the purpose that was uppermost in his mind. 
 For this he further prepared himself with one 
 or two coughs and hems, and a few unneces- 
 sary applications of his apron. At last he put 
 the inquiry — 
 
 " Han yo' owt particular marked eawt for 
 this little wench o' yo'res, Mesthur Wilson ? " 
 
 " Not yet," was the reply, " I have 
 scarcely an idea how I may be situated when 
 I get to Waverlow, so cannot say what I shall 
 do in that respect. However, I hope for the 
 best, as I know I have friends in that village 
 who will assist me." 
 
 " I've just bin thinkin'," observed Jacob, 
 " ut if yo' didno mind partin' with her, — that
 
 110 IRKDALi:. 
 
 is, lettin' her live a bit fur off yo, — me an' 
 my owd woman ud tak her as eawr own ; 
 an' if hoo wurnot as weel done to as anybody 
 could do, yo met tak th' difference eawt o' my 
 ribs th' fust time yo let on me, neaw then." 
 
 Mr Wilson, deeply moved at the kind 
 offer of his host, turned an inquiring glance 
 towards the child, which was returned with a 
 look so expressive of acquiescence in what 
 the joiner had advanced, that he could find no 
 plea upon which to found a refusal. 
 
 ** I'm noane beawt brass," * Jacob con- 
 tinued, seeing that he had made an impression 
 on his guest, " if I do look like an owd 
 knowmon ; an' if yo'n a mind I'll spend a 
 bit on her, ut ther shanno be sich a little 
 hangel i' a' Irkdale as hoo shall be. They 
 co'en mi odd, I know, an' a mon may well be 
 when he con see other folk wi' ther bits o' 
 huzzies reawnd 'em, an' noane o'thcr own 
 fort' niak em' even.'' 
 
 " What say you, Adelaide ? " said Mr 
 
 * Brass among Lancashire people is identical with 
 money.
 
 IRKDALE. Ill 
 
 Wilson, addressing his daughter, upon whose 
 face hope and confidence were beaming; "Will 
 you live with these people ? " 
 
 " Yes, Pa," replied the child, " if I\Ia is to 
 come and live with us." 
 
 " But Ma cannot come yet," said the father, 
 disconcertedly, — "cannot come even if you go 
 with me ; not yet, not yet!' 
 
 The child, evidently disappointed by the 
 tenor of the latter communication, hesitated 
 a moment, during which the feelings produced 
 by hope deferred and a longing for a settled 
 home, — anywhere, anywhere, so that it was a 
 home, were working upon her childish inclina- 
 tions. The prospect, however, of being enabled 
 to lay aside the bonnet that was getting shabby, 
 and the frock that was much worn and faded, 
 for clothes that were to make a " little hangel " 
 of her, at length ruled her determination, and 
 she decided, though not without a tear of 
 passing regret at the implied separation from 
 her father, to remain with, and become the 
 adopted daughter of, Jacob Robinson and his 
 wife, Nanny.
 
 112 IRKDALE. 
 
 No sooner was this point settled, and the 
 preliminaries to further arrangements agreed 
 upon, than Dick, to mark his approval of so 
 welcome an addition, betook himself to a little 
 cupboard that was ensconced in a corner of 
 the buttery. From this repository he pro- 
 duced a small cup and saucer, upon which 
 was inscribed " A present for Jane," and with 
 a grin of triumph placed them on the table. 
 
 " Eh, Dick ! " said the mother, her hand 
 trembling and her voice broken with sudden 
 emotion, "whatever made thee think of thoose? 
 They wur eawr Jane's — ut's neaw i' heaven, — 
 bless her ! Tak 'em by — tak 'em by — till I 
 con fotch 'em mysel," and, as she uttered the 
 last words, tears began to stream down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 Jacob groaned, but beyond that no ex- 
 pression of pent-up grief escaped him ; and 
 he suffered himself to toy with the cup and 
 saucer, as though their presence recalled to 
 his recollection the living image of the dear 
 departed. 
 
 This brief but touching episode in the
 
 IRKDALE. 113 
 
 morning's proceedings having passed over, 
 and the precious souvenirs of an undying af- 
 fection having been returned to their former 
 place, to be at another time produced by the 
 dame herself, and consigned to the keeping of 
 Adelaide, the serenity of the table was again 
 restored, and the meal finished without any 
 other incident to interrupt its progress. 
 
 Jacob now proposed an adjournment to the 
 garden, to give Nanny an opportunity of re- 
 moving the breakfast things, and where they 
 might look out upon " natyer," and discourse 
 upon such matters as appertained to the 
 joiner's mode of spending his Sabbath morn- 
 ings. 
 
 " See," observed the latter, producing a 
 thick Bible from under his arm, and opening 
 it at a previously-marked page, " folk thinken 
 I'm a good- for-nowt, becose I winno mix 
 amung th' Skinners, an' pay candle-collection, 
 an' class money, an' missionary tow, or sum- 
 mut they coen it. Neaw, it is no' becose I'm 
 greedy, but I conno' do wi' sich mystifyin' 
 talk as Owd Thumpbook maks use on when
 
 114 IRKDALE. 
 
 he's trying t' turn black into white an' white 
 into black wi' tvvistin' Scriptyer abeawt same 
 as if it had bin written for nowt nobbiit to 
 set folk by th' ears. So I read th' owd book 
 mysel, an' tak care ut some o'th' best on't's 
 driven into that lad's yed (pointing to Dick, 
 Avho had perched himself upon a raised flag, and 
 assumed an attitude for listening, as appeared 
 to be his weekly practice), an' if he doesno' 
 betther by it, its labbor thrown away, that's a' 
 ut I can say. Neaw, Dick, attention." With 
 this injunction to his son, Jacob mounted an 
 imaginary rostrum, and commenced reading 
 the twelfth chapter of St Paul's Epistle to the 
 Romans, with a pecuharity of articulation and 
 accentuation that was no doubt intended to 
 create a due effect upon the understandings 
 of his small congregation. He was inter- 
 rupted, however, by the passing of a two-horse 
 coach along the causeway, which wound by 
 the bottom of the garden, and which so 
 attracted Mr Wilson's notice as to induce that 
 gentleman to step down the walk for the 
 purpose of obtaining a further view.
 
 IRKDALE. 115 
 
 " Pride gooin' t' church ! " shouted Jacob, 
 seeing that his companion had left him. " Let 
 'em goo, let 'em goo; ther'U be noather bosses 
 nor carriages for t' draw 'em to th' tother 
 country. We'st a' ha' to be shoother to 
 shoother on us road to theere." 
 
 But Mr Wilson was so struck with the 
 appearance of the vehicle that had passed, 
 and was now receding in the distance, that 
 the observations of his friend were lost upon 
 him, and he stood riveted to the spot in a 
 maze of doubt and wonder. The joiner closed 
 his book on seeing that his guest's attention 
 was so steadfastly fixed upon other objects ; 
 and he too began to wonder in his turn what 
 interest could be centred in so usual a 
 spectacle. 
 
 Edward Wilson, if thou hadst known 
 what that carriage contained, and what power 
 the jewelled hand which rested on the lowered 
 sash possessed to snatch thee from the dark 
 uncertainty that lay before thee, how would 
 curiosity have been changed to a feeling of 
 intense joy or overpowering anguish, which
 
 116 IRKDAIE. 
 
 no exhortation could temper, or power short 
 of death assuage ! But — it was gone ! A 
 train of richly-apparelled worshippers at the 
 shrine of our common faith descended, and 
 reaching the church door, swept along the 
 aisle to their velvet-cushioned stall, where 
 they knelt in prayer, whilst a group more 
 humble offered up their service in the garden 
 "temple of the wayside." Which, in this 
 instance, would be the most acceptable in the 
 sight of God ? We shall see.
 
 117 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " How is it," said Mr Wilson, as he looked 
 in the dii'ection of Irkdale church, " how is it 
 that we sometimes feel a deep and absorbing 
 interest in things that really do not concern 
 us ; — tilings that we meet with by accident, 
 and wonder where and under w^iat circum- 
 stances we have seen them before ? The 
 trappings of yon carriage are somehow as 
 familiar to me as my own hand, yet where I 
 have met with them before I cannot think. 
 Do you know who is the owner ? " 
 
 The joiner, having by this time descended 
 from his imaginary rostrum, and after leaving 
 Addy to make the acquaintance of a non- 
 descript toy drawn by Dick from the depths 
 of his capacious pocket, had sauntered down 
 the garden to see what so completely en- 
 grossed the attention of his guest.
 
 118 IRKDALE. 
 
 " Well, I conno' say ut I do," replied 
 Jacob, pondering in his own semi-abstracted 
 manner. " It goes past here every Sunday 
 mornin*, an' has done for some time. I think 
 it's fro Cheetham Hill, or toart Crnmpsa' way; 
 but whoas it is I noather know nor care." 
 
 " It isn't that I care so very much," said 
 the other, " only w^ien we feel an unaccount- 
 able interest in anything we have an inclina- 
 tion to know some httle about it, let the 
 matter be what it may." 
 
 " Just so, just so," admitted Jacob. 
 
 " Have you never," continued Mr Wilson, 
 " experienced that particular sensation your- 
 self — of having met with an object that you 
 felt confident that you had seen before, yet 
 knew not under what circumstances ? " 
 
 " Yoi, I have." 
 
 " And the incident has continued to haunt 
 your memory for a long time after ? " 
 
 " Ay," said Jacob, with a meaning shnig, 
 " I remember th' second time ut ever I see'd 
 my owd womman — I co her owd, tho' hoo's 
 mony a yer t' turn o'er afore hoo's as owd as me
 
 IRKDALE. 119 
 
 — I remember it wur Blakely wakes, an' I'd bin 
 ramblin' abeavvt amung th' lions * a' afternoon 
 o'th' Monday wheere I'd seen abeawt four 
 battles an' a race for a pair o' knee-breeches, 
 an' just as I're slingin' my shoon by th' eend 
 o'th' Crab-loane fort' go toart whoam, whoa 
 should I meet but a young lass wi' a printud 
 bedgeawn on ov a patthern ut I thowt I'd 
 seen afore, but couldno' tell wheere. It wur a 
 queer patthern — summut like an owd-fashint 
 plate wi' willows an bridges on it. I'd seen 
 nowt like it in a' Blakeley beside — noa that day. 
 Well, this bothert me above a bit, an' I stopt 
 starin' afther her as stupit as a pot mule, hardly 
 knowin' whether t' go one road or th' tother. 
 E'nneaw hoo turnt hersel reawnd an' peept at 
 me fro' th' fur eend of a bonnet ut wur 
 abeavvt th' length of a stove-pipe, noane one 
 o' thoose brazent lookin' things they wear 
 ne awo' days ut maks 'em favver as if smeawch- 
 in wur gettin' eawt o' fashin', an' they'rn 
 
 * It is a singular fact that there are no fewer than 
 four public-houses in the village of Blackley, near 
 Manchester, each bearing the sign of the " Lion."
 
 120 IRKDALE. 
 
 offerin' tlier bits o' peawchers for anybody t' 
 buss. Yon's a blossom, I thowt, at any rate, 
 for her face wur as bonny a bit o' pink an' 
 white as ever wur lapt i' straw an' ribbin', an' 
 I felt as if I could ha' wisht it had bin Blake- 
 ley wakes every day. Ther'd be no hurt i' 
 me axin' her a question, I thowt, if it wurno' 
 in a cooartin' way, nor nowt wrank abeawt it ; 
 so I fraimt up to her, an I sed, 
 
 " ' Owd wench, I think I've seen thee 
 somewhere afore.' 
 
 " ' Dun yo' think yo' han ?' hoo sed, an' 
 hoo gan me another look, same as if hoo'd 
 bin peepin' under a hedge. 
 
 " ' I'm sure I have,' I sed, ' but I conno 
 tell wheere. Did t' ever wayve to Owd Kay's 
 1' Manchester?' 
 
 " ' Ay,' hoo sed. 
 
 " ' That's wheere I've seen thi',thcn,' I sed. 
 
 ** * Well, an' what by it ? ' hoo sed. 
 
 " ' Nowt,' I sed, * nobbut I're thinkin' if I 
 happent t' leet on thee theere agen, we met 
 come whoam t'gether, an' I'd carry thy wallet 
 for thee.'
 
 IRKDALE. 121 
 
 " Well, I know no' heaw it coom abeawt, 
 but I've thowt sin' it wur happen through 
 what I'd yerd my Aint Mally say — nowt ven- 
 turt, notvt won — but someheaw I'd no sooner 
 getten th' words eawt than I fund mysel o'er 
 th' yed in her bonnet, wi' my e'en welly scrat 
 eawt wi' bits o' bobs an' bows ut wur stickin' 
 eawt of her cap-screen. That wur th' begin- 
 nin' o' my cooartin', an' a' through my thinkin' 
 I'd seen th' wench afore. So one con hardly 
 tell what leads to what, 'specially when we 
 go deawn to a wakes, an' see so mony pratty 
 faces twinklin' abeawt like bunches o' posies 
 on a rush-cart sheet.* But abeawt yon 
 coach — " 
 
 Here the stranger, upon whom Jacob's 
 account of his courting adventure seemed to 
 be lost, started as if from a reverie. 
 
 " I must go," said he, " before it may be 
 
 too late to go in peace. I will probe no 
 
 * The sheet that usually adorns the front of a " rush- 
 cart" at the annual " rush-bearing," a pastime still 
 kept up in several Lancashire villages, is gaily deco- 
 rated with ribbons, flowers, gold and silver plate, and 
 other valuables.
 
 122 IRKDALE. 
 
 further into this mystery, however I might 
 desire it, and I feel that staying longer would 
 only increase the temptation. I must go at 
 once." 
 
 " But yo'n stop to a bit o' dinner ? " 
 
 " No ; that would be presuming too much 
 upon your hospitality; better go at once," 
 and the two left the garden-gate, and pro- 
 ceeded to join the children, who were already, 
 as Jacob expressed himself, " as thick as inkle- 
 way vers," notwithstanding their short acquaint- 
 ance wdth each other. 
 
 " Now," said Mr Wilson, as they entered 
 the house, " let us understand each other be- 
 fore we part. I may not return to this neigh- 
 bourhood for some time, and I could ^\^sh 
 that I may have no anxiety on my child's 
 account whilst I am away." 
 
 " Dunno' be unyessy abeawt her," said the 
 joiner, in a very assuring manner, " hoo'U be 
 as reet as a clock — mind if hoo isno'. I'll 
 tak' care o' that mysel. But ther's one thing 
 I should like t' be set reet abeawt, — an' at th' 
 same time it's nowt to me, — but moathers
 
 IRKDALE. 123 
 
 are moathers, yo know, an' if they dunno' 
 aulus do weel for ther childer, they mun 
 have a bit of a leynin' toart 'em, an' may 
 sometime tak' a fit o' bein' queer, an' doin' 
 things ut I dmmo' Hke' t' think abeawt." 
 
 " I don't understand you," observed Mr 
 Wilson, though he had evidently some idea of 
 what his friend was driving at. " What is it 
 you require explaining ? " 
 
 " Well," said Jacob, rather embarrassed, 
 " if sich a thing wurt' happen as yo' gettin' 
 wed agen — ." 
 
 " That is impossible whilst my wife is 
 yet Hving." 
 
 " Well, yo' seen, I wurno' quite sartin' ut 
 hoo wur livin', an' didno like axin' yo. Neaw 
 I'm fain its comn eawt, but at th' same time it 
 makes no difference to me ; an if — " 
 
 " There is no mystery at all about it. 
 My wife is living for anything I know to the 
 contrary — though not in this country, nor 
 indeed in Prance, and being as you are so 
 kind as to interest yourself in my behalf, 
 I don't mind telling you, in confidence, how-
 
 124 IRKDALE. 
 
 ever, how we are placed in regard to each 
 other. 
 
 " I married, like many others, above my 
 sphere. j\Iy wife was the daughter of a well- 
 to-do manufacturer, whilst I was merely a 
 
 hand-loom weaver. I met with her at M , 
 
 where I was employed under her father in the 
 capacity of overlooker. T need not say that 
 our courtship was short and somewhat ro- 
 mantic, — our marriage hasty and attended 
 with much opposition on the part of my wife's 
 parents and friends. I strove all I could to 
 deserve their reconciliation to the step we had 
 taken, but without avail ; they were inexorable. 
 At length, tired of their persecution, we left 
 
 M , and went to reside in Waverlow, 
 
 where I worked as a journeyman weaver, 
 whilst my wife, struggling betwixt pride and 
 affection, assisted in winding, and other things 
 connected with weaving, which I had taught 
 her. This lasted until yon child was born, 
 when, feeling heavier responsibilities crowding 
 upon me, I looked out for more lucrative em- 
 ployment, and succeeded in obtaining a situa-
 
 IIIKDALE. 125 
 
 tion as putter- out* to a firm in Manchester. 
 This I threw up in disgust after several weeks' 
 probation, during which I was compelled to do 
 things that, even now, makes my heart ache 
 to think of. I returned to my loom, resolved 
 rather to contend with poverty than live to be 
 continually at war with my conscience, as I 
 found would be my inevitable lot in my new 
 position. 
 
 " About this time a friend of mine intro- 
 duced me to a gentleman from Lyons, who 
 was in want of an overlooker of weavers. The 
 situation was offered to me, which I at once 
 accepted, and ere Adelaide could use her feet 
 we found ourselves domiciled in the silk me- 
 tropolis of France. I had not long been en- 
 gaged in this employment before I found such 
 
 - * Putter -out is a term applied to the person who 
 gives out work to hand-loom weavers. People occupy- 
 ing this position are regarded in an obnoxious light by 
 the generality of weavers, simply from the fact that 
 as most of them have risen from the ranks, not a few 
 have been known to deal most tyrannically with those 
 beneath them, — illustrating the adage — " Put a beggar 
 on horseback, &c."
 
 126 IRKDALE. 
 
 favour with my employer, who was a kind 
 man, that he took me into partnership. Here 
 my good fortune, that had hitherto been so 
 propitious, failed me. I could not be satisfied 
 with prosperity. I became fond of gambhng, 
 and lost considerably. I struggled to regain 
 my ])osition and my lost credit by the very 
 means through which I had parted with both. 
 It was useless, however ; luck was against me, 
 and a dissolution of partnership was the con- 
 sequence. 
 
 " I now became reckless, and pawned or 
 sold everything of value that I could lay hold 
 of to supply myself with the means of continu- 
 ins; a ruinous course. As a last and fatal act, 
 whilst my wife was asleep I took from her finger 
 a valuable diamond ring — a present from an 
 aunt — and hazarded it against five thousand 
 francs at one throw. My God ! — that went 
 too. I was now without resources — stript of 
 everything by one man, a professional gambler, 
 who lived like a prince on his plunder. 
 
 "Now comes the climax. The diamond ring 
 which this scoundrel had won 'was one day
 
 IRKDALE. 127 
 
 seen by my wife on the finger of a courtezan, 
 and fired with jealousy at this unaccountable 
 transfer of her property, she fled that very 
 day from home, — whither I never knew, 
 though I had reason to suspect to America. 
 
 "There, now you have my history, however 
 I may blush to give it. We cannot recall 
 the past nor redeem treasures irrevocably lost, 
 but there is an untried future before us, which 
 we may make the most of." 
 
 Jacob, when the stranger had finished his 
 story, drew a long breath, as if to relieve him- 
 self. " I'm fain it's no wurr," he said, " I're 
 feeart ther summut abeawt it a good deal short 
 o' gradely, summut one doesno' like yerrin' 
 abeawt a womman, thou2;h this is bad 
 enough." 
 
 " I have never suspected there being any- 
 thing of the kind you hint in this instance," 
 said Mr Wilson. " I have full faith in my 
 wife's honour, though condemning her im< 
 prudence. I was the first transgressor, and 
 am prepared to suff'er as I have suff'ered." 
 
 " Well, that taks a bit o'th' wynt o' my
 
 128 IRKDALE. 
 
 bags," said Jacob, with something like an 
 explosion in his chest ; " an' I think betther o' 
 wimincn neaw nor I did an heawr sin'. 
 They're a plaguy lot, too, an' as bad fort' dress 
 as a cross-graint plank ; but this o' mine's a 
 bit o' softer wood nor I generally find 'em, 
 though hoo's her knots abeawt her, for a' that. 
 Well, am I to think ut when yo' laft France 
 they'd let yo' stop,theere no lunger, or yo' 
 coom here o' yor own gate ? " 
 
 " On my own account," said the stranger. 
 " I had to fall back upon the loom to obtain 
 a subsistence, and followed the huml^le voca- 
 tion of weaving for several years subsequent 
 to my misfortunes. The Revolution breaking 
 out, the silk trade became paralysed, and I 
 was forced either to return to my native 
 country or starve. I found the means of 
 getting across the Channel, and have tramped 
 hither, from Dover, eveiy step of the journey, 
 attended by my little girl, who has borne up 
 bravely against every privation. God bless 
 you for taking her under your care ! My lieart
 
 IRKDALE. 129 
 
 feels ten-fold relief from it, and if it be ever 
 in my power to reward you .'' 
 
 " Say nowt abeawt that — say nowt abeawt 
 that," exclaimed the joiner, with a wave of his 
 hand, " I'm nobbut doin' what I'd like some'dy 
 do by mine if they'rn flung to th' wall, 
 wi' th' wide woald afore 'em, an no co-in' 
 shops upo' th' road." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you," said Mr Wilson. 
 " I must now take my leave, not wishing to 
 meet the people returning from church. 
 When I may meet you again I know not, but 
 I hope it will be ere long. Adelaide, you will 
 be a good girl, I know^ you will. , Pray for 
 your mother every night when you go to 
 bed, — pray for these good people, and I will 
 join you. You will be a good girl, won't 
 you r 
 
 Addy had just left her companion explor- 
 ing some secret recess in the hen-cote, popu- 
 larly supposed to be a repository for marbles 
 and other things that w^ere forbidden to be 
 brought out on Sundays, and the child stood 
 waitino: to take leave of her father.
 
 130 IRKDALE. 
 
 " I will be a good girl, father," she said, 
 climbing his knee for the accustomed kiss, 
 and I Avill pray for mother and you, and all 
 of us. And I won't cry when you are gone. 
 The boy says he will — he will — " 
 
 " He will what, Adelaide ? " 
 
 " I hope you won't think it naughty of 
 him, but he says he will fight for me when 
 he's a big boy ? " 
 
 " Well done, Dick ! " exclaimed Jacob, in 
 an ecstacy of admiration of his son's chivalry. 
 " He hasno gone to owd Saul's skoo for nowt, 
 I con tell yo. They startn o'feighten theere 
 as soon as they con walk, an' never gi'en o'er 
 till they'n segs ole o'er 'em, an' then theyre 
 coed fit to tak care o' thersel. If Dick turns 
 tail to his promise, I'll niak him t' ate his own 
 yed; that I will. Well, good day, ifyo're de- 
 termined t' be off, though I'd rayther yo'd stop 
 t' yore dinner, for w^e're havin' what yo hanna 
 tasted on o' niony a yer, I dar-say, — a gradly 
 meawntin' of a pottato pie — very nee a wheel- 
 barrow full, an made so as nob'dy nobbut eawr 
 Nanny an' owd Aisthcr-o'-Deb's con mak' em.
 
 IRKDALE. 131 
 
 Well, ye mun lia' yor own road, I reckon, so 
 good day to yo ! Nanny, shake this gentle- 
 man's hont, for he's for goom' whether-or- 
 not." 
 
 " Good day to yo ! " said the mistress of 
 the house, and ere she could repeat it the 
 door was closed, and the stranger gone. 
 Click went the latch of the garden-gate, bang 
 went the gate, and a receding footstep was 
 now all that could be heard of one whose fate 
 was henceforth to be inseparably linked with 
 the fortunes, whether good or ill, of the " Odd 
 House."
 
 132 
 
 CHAPTER VIIl. 
 
 Ten years have elapsed since the occur- 
 rence of the incidents so far related. Ten 
 years have brought their wrinkles to whom 
 care hath spared. Ten years have spread 
 bright Summer blossoms and yielded harvests 
 to the reaper's hook. Ten years have strewn 
 their leaves upon each other's graves, wrapped 
 them in snow-wove shrouds, and have vanished 
 themselves like a dream into the past. Ten 
 years have sent their good and evil to that 
 judgment-seat where "nor fear nor favour 
 turns the beam of fate," and the " Recording 
 Angel " hath wept over and " blotted out for 
 ever" sins that long suffering had engendered. 
 Ten years have torn hearts asimder that lived 
 but for love. Ten years have levelled rich 
 and poor in the fellowship of the tomb, where 
 neither "brassy monument" nor marble urn
 
 IRKDALE. 133 
 
 avails to raise one atom of the titled dust 
 above that of the lowliest hind. Ten years 
 have furrowed the earth -with strife, — seen 
 warriors' plumes blossom Avith their crimson 
 honours, to be gathered in Fame's charnel- 
 house at last. Ten years have blown the bud 
 of childhood into a flower ; — tinted its petals 
 with a maidenly blush, and implanted in its 
 core the germ of an inner being — the life 
 for which we live, — that whether it be 
 ripened into frait, or blasted ere its perfume 
 be shed, shall be named Love. 
 
 " Oh Love — young Love, — bound in thy rosy band ; 
 Let sage or cynic prattle as he will, 
 Such hours as these alone redeem life's years of ill." 
 
 Ten years could not have passed over 
 without adding many social changes to the 
 calendar of events — changes which no fore- 
 sight, however keen, could have fathomed in 
 the future. The rich man brought to rags ; 
 the beggar transported to a palace; guilt 
 overtaken by punishment, innocence crowned 
 with happiness — these might have taught the 
 worldly-wise that there is no certainty in
 
 134 IKKDALE. 
 
 human attainments, no stability in the found- 
 ations upon which we build our hopes of 
 fortune and success, " We become changed 
 in the twinkling of an eye." Changes con- 
 found the greatest conservatism, and some of 
 these changes have, during ten years, come 
 over Irkdale. 
 
 It is the finest day of a glorious Whit-week 
 — the grand summer pastime of South Lan- 
 cashire — and Irkdale is alive with the bustle 
 of preparation for a species of enjoyment, 
 which brings no after-day regrets. The Sun- 
 day School bell is ringing as merrily as if care 
 had been completely banished from the earth, 
 and universal joy had taken its place. The 
 young look as though it were impossil^le to 
 grow old, and the aged are living a day of 
 their childhood over again, Never were such 
 cakes baked before ; never such delicious 
 things stored in creaking baskets and heaped 
 on wheelbarrows, for field luncheon over 
 those glorious English games of "cricket," 
 " frog-leap," " hammer-and-block," " shep- 
 herd," and " Little Johnny Lingo ; " never
 
 IRKDALE. 135 
 
 were there such displays of new corduroy and 
 brass buttons ; never such a galaxy of white 
 frocks and caps as now made a " niilky-Avay " 
 of every lane and path that led to the school ; 
 never Avere such antics indulged in by juve- 
 niles, nor ever, perhaps, was there an occasion 
 on which these young hearts Avere so flooded 
 with happiness.* 
 
 But the school procession is formed, and 
 with its sober front of warden's staff and 
 formal gown, and its dribbhng " tag " of 
 noisy youngsters, with laceless shoes and 
 newly-gashed waistbands, is moving down the 
 lane towards the scene of approaching festivi- 
 ties. In charge of the lesser girls, and walk- 
 ing by their side, is a young person Avhose 
 features are familiar would her parasol permit 
 
 * Those who have not witnessed the Sunday 
 School processions which usually take place at Whit- 
 suntide in Manchester and the surrounding villages, 
 can form no idea of their magnitude nor the interest 
 attached to them. The " Lord Mayor's Show " may 
 be considered to be a grand pageant, but it sinks into 
 insigniticance when compared to a Manchester School 
 procession, which usually takes about an hour to pass 
 the Exchange.
 
 13G IRKDALE. 
 
 their being clearly seen. Now she stops to 
 chicle, now to encourage, and at another time 
 to exchange glances with a youth who has much 
 to do to keep his section of the procession out 
 of the hedges and ditches on their route. 
 Occasionally the two are brought together, 
 when their glances become as eloquent a con- 
 fession of love, as if told in words the most 
 fervent. They are approaching a pail of the 
 " Hollow " whence eyes are watching them 
 that they know not of, and which appear to 
 divine, whether instinctively or not, the pecu- 
 liar character of their acquaintance. Now 
 they round a bend in the valley, and pause 
 opposite a cottage door, where an old man, 
 with head well whitened, sends forth playful 
 wreaths of smoke from his morning's pipe. A 
 younger person stands upon the garden 
 " backing," much interested in the humble 
 pageant that is passing. But he looks not 
 upon the gilded staff nor upon the fluttering 
 banneret, nor does he seem to have an ear for 
 the jubilance of the unmanageable jorum who 
 do anything but " bring up " the rear. '■ His
 
 IRKDALE. 137 
 
 eyes are fixed upon the two young people who 
 are " biUing and cooing " at the gate, and he 
 watches their motions and listens to their 
 whisperings as though the alternative of life 
 and death hung upon what he heard and saw. 
 The two separate, — the youth to pursue his 
 hopeless task of shepherding, and the fair one 
 to make a call at the cottage. Up the path 
 she flies, eagerly watched by the individual 
 from the " backing." 
 
 " What neaw, Addy ? " said the old man 
 (who was no other than our venerable ac- 
 quaintance, Jacob Robinson), as he looked with 
 admiration upon the sylph-like figure that trip- 
 ped past him. 
 
 "I had forgotten my hymn-book, grand- 
 father," replied the girl playfully, " I left it 
 on the drawers. Yonder it is. I must make 
 haste, or I shall be left behind." So saying, 
 she hastened into the house, recovered her 
 book, and our young friend Adelaide Wilson 
 was soon by the side of the youth whom she 
 had left at the gate. 
 
 Addy was now approaching the dawn of
 
 138 IRKDALE. 
 
 womanhood. Nobody would have taken her 
 to be the pensive, thinly-clad child of ten 
 years ago. She seemed to have imbibed an 
 influence from the south in her kindling viva- 
 city, tempered by a womanly restraint, that 
 added to the charm of personal attractions. 
 Addy had not been " bom to blush unseen," 
 nor to " waste her sweetness on the desert 
 air." Nor was she to be hidden from loving 
 and admiring eyes, even if they had to explore 
 the nooks and corners of Irkdale before light- 
 ing upon her. She was beloved, as we shall 
 soon gather, from a sincere though unexpected 
 confession. 
 
 " What's do wi' thee, Dick ? " exclaimed 
 Jacob Robinson to the youth who had been 
 watching the procession from the garden, and 
 now sat beneath the hedge, gazing ui)on va- 
 cancy. " Thcaw stares wurr nor a throttled 
 earwig. Art' watchin' for fairies i'th' dayleet, 
 or Avhat, as theaw looks so gawmless ?" 
 
 The young man appeared not to have 
 heard his father, but still sat in a state of 
 abstraction.
 
 IRKDALE. 139 
 
 " Til' lad's beside hissel," thought Jacob, 
 " or else he's happen workin' eawt summut i' 
 Euclid, as he coes it. I'll noa disturb him." 
 
 This was an unnecessary precaution on the 
 part of the joiner, for immediately the boy 
 arose from his seat, applied his finger nails to 
 his head, as if he had meant to dig up by the 
 roots the short scrunt hair that could hardly 
 be said to grow in that quarter, and coming 
 slowly forward, exclaimed — 
 
 " I'm floored, feyther ! " 
 
 " Floored ? What dost meean by that, 
 Dick?" 
 
 "I'm done for." 
 
 " An w^hoa's done for thee?" 
 
 " It's her." 
 
 " Her ! " said the father, twisting sharply 
 round, as if he expected to see somebody 
 behind him undiscovered before. " What 
 her, — what dost meean ? Art off it, Jacan- 
 apes ? " 
 
 " I'm floored ! " repeated Dick, with a 
 groan. 
 
 " Well, then, get up agen if t' art floored,
 
 140 IRKUALE. 
 
 an' see if theaw conno' throw thy mon i' th' 
 next tussle." 
 
 " Tussle, feyther ? I'm past a tussle ; I'm 
 cleean thrown, an' my hont up." 
 
 " Well, an' whoa's tumblet thee i' sich a 
 dampert fleawnder ? " 
 
 " It's her, feyther, eawr Addy." 
 
 Jacob opened his eyes right " to th' back," 
 as he would have said, and letting his pipe 
 drop mechanically from his mouth, exclaimed 
 with significant earnestness — 
 
 " Oh — h — h — aw see !" Then turned into 
 the house, leaving his love-stricken son gazing 
 with a wild stare in the direction of the clos- 
 ing door. 
 
 " Theere, neaw," soliloquized Dick, drop- 
 ping his chin, and looking as glum and as 
 "yonderly" as crossed love could well make 
 him ; " I've put my foowt int' wi' th' owd 
 buffer, I reckon. But I dunno' care what 
 comes neaw ; I conno' be wurr nor I am. 
 I feel as I could liket' feight, an' I hanno' 
 fowten this mony a yer ; an' I will feight too, 
 if I dunno' — "
 
 IRKDALE. 141 
 
 What might have been the strong senti- 
 ment about to be uttered it would be difficult 
 to conjecture, for at that moment Dick heard 
 a voice calling out — 
 
 " Mister Robinson, — Mister Richard ! " 
 
 Dick, on turning round to see who thus 
 addressed him, confronted " with lowering: 
 brow and flashing eye" the youth who, to 
 use his own expressive idiom, had been the 
 principal cause of his being so completely 
 " floored." 
 
 " Neaw for it," he thought; " ther's a 
 chance of a battle neaw, at any rate," and just 
 as he was about hinting " Come on ! " his 
 adversary, with an expression on his coun- 
 tenance anything but defiant, stepped up 
 and inquired if the other's name luas not 
 Richard." 
 
 "Dick 'II do," replied the younger Ro- 
 binson ferociously, " what dost want wi' 
 me ? " 
 
 "Miss Wilson," said the youth, uncon- 
 scious of the terrible concussion with which 
 the name struck upon his listener's ear.
 
 142 IRKDALE. 
 
 " gives me to understand that you're the 
 young man Avho saved my life the other day 
 whilst bathing in the Brook Dam." 
 
 " An' what abeawt it ?" growled Dick. 
 
 " Well, you see," answered the stranger, 
 a well-behaved young gentleman, handsome in 
 person, and of good address, " I've returned 
 to thank you for your generous conduct on 
 that occasion, and to assure you that any- 
 thing I can do to serve you, I would most 
 gratefully undertake," 
 
 " I saved thy hfe, an' would do so agen if 
 I'd a chance," said Dick, softening a little in 
 his manner towards the young gentleman. 
 " But at th' same time, I'd as lief see the d — 1 
 as thee abeawt eaur heawse." 
 
 " Why, what offence have T commit- 
 ted?" 
 
 "Here," said the other, in a. low, but 
 firm voice, " what is ther between thee an* 
 yon wench? " 
 
 " Oh, only friendship, I assure you." 
 
 " It's a cute sort o' friendship. I con tell, 
 mon. Ther's sunnuut else nor that."
 
 IRKDALE. 143 
 
 " And what else would you suppose there 
 is between us?" said the youth, blushing the 
 deepest crimson. 
 
 " Wheay, what but love ? " gasped Dick, 
 as if he would have cut the last word in two 
 with his teeth. 
 
 The other hung down his head, and was 
 silent. 
 
 " Neaw, look thee here," Dick continued, 
 " or else it'll be wurr for thee. No hanky- 
 panyin' wi' owt belungin' to us ; it winno' do. 
 If yon wench is poor, lioo's wo'th o' th' gins- 
 bread snickets ther is i' Crumpsa', or Cheet- 
 ham-hill, or any o' yor fine places. An' if 
 theaw doesno' toe fair wi' her, an' be up-reet 
 an' deawn-straight ; if by oather word or 
 thowt, or owt else, theaw gives her one minit's 
 unyessiness, th' next time I leet on thee I'll 
 wrythe thy neck reawnd till it's as twisted as 
 a clewkin' bant. Neaw, then ; goo after thy 
 scholars, an' never lemmi' see thee agen — 
 never, never." 
 
 The young gentleman, struck dumb by 
 Dick's earnest and threatening manner, ima-
 
 144 IRKDALE. 
 
 gined himself already guilty of some indiscre- 
 tion towards Adelaide Wilson. 
 
 " Ay, theaw may rub up thy curls," re- 
 sumed the other, " but if t' doesna mind what 
 theawrt doin' theaw'll get thy yed powed w^i' 
 summut wurr nor a pair o' sithers' (scissors), 
 so chew that, an' it'll be breakfast, dinner, and 
 baggin' for thee for awhile." 
 
 Concluding this injunction, Dick turned 
 upon his heel, and dashed through a small 
 gate at the end of the house; then throwing 
 his arms upon the pigcote wall, sank into a 
 reverie from which it was some time ere he 
 awoke. 
 
 His new acquaintance, bewildered by the 
 position in which he found himself so strangely 
 placed, strode mechanically down the walk, 
 in pursuit of his companions ; gathering omin- 
 ous forebodings from the nature of his en- 
 counter w^ith the joiner's son, that no part 
 of the day's pastime could for a moment 
 drive away.
 
 145 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Dick Robinson stood for an hour or 
 more listening to the snoring of the pigs, and 
 trying to famiharize himself with the cheap 
 and quiet comforts of swinish life. He won- 
 dered if pigs ever loved, or were jealous of 
 one another, when a sow seemed to show more 
 regard for some one of her male companions 
 than she did for the rest. No; a boiled 
 potato, or a pail-full of " swill " appeared to 
 have greater charms for porkies of both sexes 
 than a tender squeak or the sweetest smile 
 that an expanded snout and the twinkhng of 
 a gimlet eye could fashion. They were not 
 the beings to sit staring at each other as he 
 had gazed at his foster-sister. None of them 
 " did " their bristles up in provoking curls. 
 Theirs was too quiet, too somnolent a life to 
 be disturbed by fretful passions that follow in
 
 146 IRKDALE. 
 
 the wake of love. They sighed not in their 
 sleep, unless their dreams happened to be 
 haunted by visions of sausages and ham col- 
 lops, or of being suspended by the heels in 
 the kitchen, with the mockery of a raw potato 
 stuck in their mouth. 
 
 Whilst our young friend was thus specu- 
 lating upon the superiority of swinish over 
 human nature, the sound as of singing came 
 upon his ear. The snoring of his favourite 
 grunters lost all its melody at the first breath 
 of harmonized human voices, and he listened 
 eagerly. The singing came from an adjacent 
 field, whither the school people had gone for 
 their day's recreation, and as Dick listened to 
 their voices, one sweeter than all the rest, as 
 he fancied, telling how angels rejoiced at the 
 resurrection of the Lamb, he felt how much 
 the world would be improved by the addition 
 of a little more music, especially such as he 
 was then listening to. 
 
 Dick never understood the art of music, 
 not having made any further advances in its 
 cultivation than is implied in the incessant
 
 IRKDALE. 147 
 
 and random blowing of a tin whistle, which 
 instrument he had performed upon day and 
 night until his father made a drumstick of it 
 by hammering with it betwixt his ears. Had 
 he been able now with pipe or trumpet to 
 have awakened the sweet and love-whispering 
 echoes of Irkdale by a flourish of " Colin and 
 Phcebe," which he had heard his mother sing, 
 how he would have charmed the ears of some- 
 body. . But in that respect he must remain 
 dumb, and when he reflected how few qualifl- 
 cations he possessed wherewith to captivate 
 the female heart, how plain was his person, 
 and how limited his accomplishments, he gave 
 himself up for the moment to as deep despair 
 as ever blighted love brought to the human 
 heart. 
 
 What had induced his father, Dick won- 
 dered, to go to his bench during that portion 
 of Whit-week usually devoted to recreation. 
 Surely enough that was his saw grating at a 
 board, and going also at more than its ac- 
 customed speed. The wind was blowing 
 strangely in that quarter he felt convinced,
 
 148 IRKDALE. 
 
 and the yoimg man augured nothing pleasant 
 from a circumstance so unusual. 
 
 " Dick ! wheer's that lad ? " was heard to 
 come from the little workshop, where Jacob 
 had set to work as though he was in earnest. 
 
 " Richart, thy feyther wants thee," shouted 
 Nanny, bending her head over the rails where 
 she usually hung her mop, and whence she 
 could just obtain a glance at her love-lorn 
 son. 
 
 " What docs he want me for ? " asked 
 Dick, not at all anxious to go near his father 
 at that particular time. 
 
 " Theaw mun come an' see ; " and imme- 
 diately Nanny's pattens were heard to be 
 " neckling " over the kitchen flags in her re- 
 treat from the backyard. 
 
 Dick scratched his head for a minute, then 
 diving his knuckles to the very bottom of his 
 trousers pockets, and hitching his shoulders 
 almost to his ears, he followed his mother into 
 the house. 
 
 The joiner was just casting his eye along 
 the edge of a newly-sawn board as his son
 
 IRKDALE. 149 
 
 approached his presence, and stood waitmg 
 his commands. 
 
 " Here," he said to the wondering youth, 
 " stond here while I get th' length on thee 
 wi' this boart." 
 
 " What han yo' up neaw, feyther ? " said 
 Dick, not able to make even a guess at the 
 designs of his parent. 
 
 " Theaw'U see," replied the latter, placing 
 the board against his son's back, and making 
 a chalk-mark a little above his head, "If 
 theaw hasno' bin rocked enough i' thy younger 
 days, it's time theaw'd a new kaythm* (cradle) 
 made for thee ; though I think ther never wur 
 five feet ten o' one made afore. Theaw'll be 
 a big un t' rock, I know, but theaw wants 
 summut if Euclid's made no betther a mon 
 on thee, nor ut theaw should go starin' afther 
 a wench's bishop-strings till theaw'rt welly 
 blynt to owt else. I thowt we'd browt thee 
 up different, I did." 
 
 " What dun yo' meean ? " 
 
 " What does theaw mean, — hardenin' thy- 
 sel, as I thowt theaw wur doin' like a piece o'
 
 150 IRKDALE. 
 
 hoyrn, agen a' sort o' buzzert-hookin' tempta- 
 tions, an' sich like unscientific vanity. Tlieaw'll 
 never be a philosopher if theaw lets thysel be 
 floored Avi' a pair o' wench's een. Besides, 
 what right has theaw t' think abeawt her, 
 obbut as a brother should think abeawt a 
 sister ? " 
 
 "What—" 
 
 "Eawr Addy, I meean, knowmon." 
 
 " I never ha thowt nowt abeawt her, 
 nobbut as a brother." 
 
 " Well, then, what's do wi' thee ; for 
 theaw's lookt a' mornin' as yonderly as if 
 theaw'd lost tli' guiders o' thy een ? " 
 
 " I conno' abide t' see nob'dy else takkin' 
 notice on her, same as I've seen this mornin V' 
 and Dick fetched up a sigh in a manner that 
 few are known to do when a sister only is in 
 the question. 
 
 " Wheay, what hast seen?" said the joiner, 
 opening his eyes as if a new light was break 
 ing in upon him. 
 
 Dick here related what he had observed 
 that morning during the time the school pro-
 
 IRKDxVLE. 151 
 
 cession was passing ; how sweet a young man 
 appeared to be upon Adelaide, and how she 
 seemed to reciprocate his attentions ; how he 
 had accused this youth of harbouring designs 
 against the girl, and how he had laid himself 
 under obhgations to reduce the fellow to 
 " spoon mayte " if he did not mind what he 
 was about. 
 
 Jacob put down the board which he had 
 facetiously expressed himself as intended for 
 the " keel " of his son's cradle, and leaning 
 himself against the bench with his hands 
 resting upon his hips, he commenced such a 
 scrutiny of Dick's countenance as made that 
 individual quail beneath the glance. 
 
 " I never fund thee i' so mony lies," he 
 said, at length, and after some inward com- 
 ments upon the nature of the communication, 
 " but I think theaw's towd one neaw, an' fund 
 th' stuff." 
 
 " Nay, 1 hanno," Dick protested ; " as 
 sure as I'm here ther's some pee-weetin' goin' 
 on between 'em, I con tell, feyther." 
 
 " An' whoa is this young spreawt ut theaw
 
 152 IRKDALE. 
 
 ses wur talkin' soft to her, au' makkin' a 
 lookin'-glass of her face ? " demanded Jacob, 
 getting his passion up as he would the motion 
 of his lathe ; " does theaw know him ? " 
 
 " Ay," replied Dick, disconcertedly ; 
 " he's Mesthur Herbert's lad, down at th' 
 Grange." 
 
 " He's the — well, damper his young gal- 
 lows favvert neck ! " vociferated Jacob at the 
 tip-top height of his wrath, " I'll — ." 
 
 " I've promist to screw it reawnd for him 
 if he doesno behave hissel," broke in the 
 other warmly, " an' I'll do it. At th' same 
 time, he's a dacent lad o' th' sort." 
 
 " Ay, o'th' sort ; but look at his feyther, 
 a gamblin', thievin', chettin', black-leggin', 
 God-forswearin' wastrel, ut owt t' be teed up 
 to a loom-pawst, an' weight-ropet till within 
 two yures of his life, for a dampert roscot as 
 he is." 
 
 " We should no' be so hard upo' th' lad 
 for what his feyther is ; he conno' help it, yo' 
 known." 
 
 " Nawe, a jackass conno' help bein' what
 
 IRKDALE. 153 
 
 it is, but whoa spares it booans for tli' sake o' 
 that." 
 
 " I saved him oncet fro' dreawnin'." 
 
 " Theaw did ? Where ? " 
 
 " I'th' bruck dam." 
 
 " Oh, I yerd on't. Theaw should ha set 
 thy foot on his yed, an' — nawe, that would 
 no' ha' bin reet, noather ; I should ha' done 
 as theaw did mysel' if I'd bin able. Good 
 lad, Dick ! I think theaw'll do beawt kay- 
 tJmr this time. Ay, w^ll, I remember, he're 
 a nice sort of a lad, folk sed, an' fond o' skooin', 
 I beheve. I never knew whoa he wur afore," 
 and Jacob softened down at once, and as- 
 sumed a very mild description of " incensed 
 old parent," a character which even less serious 
 incidents than the one his son referred to, 
 sometimes induced him to make his own. 
 " Hast' ever seen his moather, Dick ? " the 
 joiner resumed, after mentally dwelling on 
 the construction of a shaving, which he had 
 seized in his passion and now held in his 
 hand. 
 
 " Nawe," replied the son, " but they sen
 
 154 IRKDALE. 
 
 hoo's as pratty as paint. I wish he hadno' 
 takken on her so mich.'' 
 
 " Why, Swetty ? " 
 
 " I could ha' liket him betther if he hadno' 
 bin so hondsome," said Dick, the symptoms 
 of his morning's jealousy returning. 
 
 " An con he be too hondsome for eawr 
 Addy ? " demanded Jacob, sharply. 
 
 " Th' hondsomest are no' aulus th' best" 
 replied the other, placing considerable emphasis 
 on the last word. 
 
 " That's becose theaw'rt uoane so partiki- 
 lar farrantly thysel', I reckon," observed the 
 father, turning suddenly to the bench, and 
 waving his hand. " Goo thy ways into th' 
 heawse. I see heaw theaw art. Theaw^'s 
 gettin' thy yed turnt abeawt a hawve a time 
 reawnd too mich, an' nowt'll suit thee neaw 
 nobbut abeawt two armfull of a wrench, if 
 there's any i'th' Hollow ut'all ha' thee. Away 
 wi' thee — tlieaw'U do no mooar good neaw, 
 I can see." 
 
 With these observations the joiner dis- 
 missed his son, and then taking up a half-
 
 IRKDALE. 155 
 
 finished shuttle which lay upon the bench, 
 commenced spoiling the rest of his work in a 
 most reckless and unskilful manner ; grunting 
 and gasping at times, as he reflected on the 
 domestic difficulties that appeared to present 
 themselves to his mind. 
 
 Dick Robinson, it must be confessed, 
 hardly knew the state of his own heart. That 
 he loved his foster-sister there could be no 
 doubt ; but how did he love her ? As a sister, 
 or as one to whom he would be connected by 
 a dearer tie ? He had watched Adelaide grow 
 up near him without, as he thought, enter- 
 taining a single sentiment beyond brotherly 
 affection towards her. He could have been 
 content, he felt sure, if she remained Adelaide 
 Wilson for ever. All that he wanted was to 
 be near her — to hear her voice about the 
 house, if it was only calling him now and 
 then by the scarcely euphonious monosyllable 
 that represented his name. Tor this he had 
 worked " like a slave " to get " over money " 
 wherewith to lavish presents upon her, and 
 thus obtain the usual grateful acknowledg-
 
 156 IRKDALE. 
 
 ment of a kiss, always planted, as he wished it 
 to be, in the vicinity of his left ear. He had 
 seen with pride the pinafore give place to the 
 small leaf-like apron that she had made out of 
 a couple of fents of his own weaving. He had 
 noted with interest the increasing roundness 
 of her arms, and the spreading dimples that 
 appeared here and there about her face and 
 elbows. 
 
 To have this beinoj still about him was 
 all our young friend had hitherto wished. 
 But now that he saw danger of her being 
 taken from him, a new feeling had sprung up 
 in his breast. He loved her with all the 
 ardour of a more sentimental temperament, 
 but without the hope that should attend on 
 such pure devotion ; and he now felt prepared 
 to lay down his life for her happiness. 
 
 In this mood Dick sought his book and 
 slate, but could work no other problem than 
 Adelaide. He tried to read, but his eye 
 lingered so long upon a page, that he must, 
 unconsciously, have read it several times over. 
 He looked towards his loom, but, being holi-
 
 IRKDALE. 157 
 
 day time, he felt no inclination to disturb the 
 cover placed over the work. How to divert 
 his thoughts from the one absorbing object 
 he knew not ; and so he sat mechanically 
 turning over leaves that he had once perused 
 so eagerly, but now possessed as little at- 
 traction as if they were so many pages of 
 blank paper. Suddenly he threw down the 
 book, hung his slate hurriedly in the corner, 
 and then, rushing into the kitchen to make a 
 hasty toilet, intimated to his mother that he 
 had determined upon " goin' to th' races."
 
 158 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Although school festivities may be re- 
 garded as the principal feature in the pastimes 
 of a Lancashire Whit-week, ^Manchester and 
 its neighbouring villages are noted for the 
 avidity with which their inhabitants betake 
 themselves to other, and, in some instances, 
 more questionable sources of enjoyment. If 
 the weather be fine, there may be seen an 
 ever-pouring stream of mounted and pedes- 
 trian holiday people taking the direction along 
 Piccadilly to the now popular place of amuse- 
 ment known as " Belle Vue Gardens," there 
 to wander among the many walks, pic-nic on 
 the grass, dance on the spacious platform, 
 tease the animals in the zoological department, 
 and finally to witness the blowing up of an 
 artificial city, amidst coloured fireworks, to 
 the strains of " God save the Queen."
 
 IRKDALE. 159 
 
 Let the weather be anything except the 
 very worst, on the three days commencing 
 with Wednesday, as numerous a crowd may 
 be seen josthng their way in an opposite di- 
 rection along the continuous thoroughfare of 
 Market-street. These are bound to our local 
 " Epsom " — the race-ground near Kersal 
 Moor ; confusion, bustle, and anxiety prevail- 
 ing along the whole route. Any sort of con- 
 veyance, from a 'bus to a donkey cart, is 
 deemed worthy the patronage of the latter 
 class of pleasure seekers, and the interest 
 taken in a certain " event "is so profoundly 
 absorbing, that many ludicrous sights and in- 
 cidents are passed over without provoking a 
 smile. There is little of that gaiety on the 
 road which marks the advent of the great 
 metropohtan carnival, the " Derby day." 
 That famous national institution, " Punch and 
 Judy," has long since been banished from the 
 street corners, through lack of patronage ; the 
 acrobat displays his spangled tights in vain ; 
 " up with it again " attracts but few adven- 
 turers, and the hurdy-gurdy cannot muster
 
 160 IRKDALE. 
 
 more than a couple who do not deem the ex- 
 ercise of the "light fantastic toe" as too trivial 
 a matter to interfere with the graver consider- 
 ation involved in the issue of a horse-race. 
 
 Men and times have changed since the 
 period when " Kersal Moor Races " was an 
 institution yet undisgraced, and scarcely pa- 
 tronized by the professional black-leg, or by 
 people who make their cunning save their 
 hands in the pursuit of lucre. Then the 
 " road " presented a far different spectacle to 
 that of the present day. Then the world 
 moved along leisurely, mirth and sandwiches 
 were plentiful, a fiddle chirped at the " Grove," 
 and dusty shoes gathered under its benches 
 as the wearers took their resting " gill " by 
 the way. 
 
 Thirty years ago eaves-dropping at stable- 
 doors had not become a profession, or if so, was 
 confined to aristocratic emissaries ; nor had 
 " tipsters " begun to advertise " dead certain- 
 ties," and entreat the whole sporting com- 
 munity to " send stamps " for their " selec- 
 tions." Then the craft of " book making "
 
 IRKDALE. 161 
 
 was confined to " scribes and pharisees," and 
 had not been taken up by men whom nature 
 and education had unfitted for the pen — men 
 who carried about them dogs-eared note-books 
 and pug-nosed pencils, and made desks of 
 their hats at street corners. Then finger-nails 
 had some chance of being pared with either 
 knife or scissors, as they were not bitten off 
 during the two hours' anxiety about an ex- 
 pected "turn-up." Sporting nomenclature 
 was in its alphabet. We had not our 
 " ponies," our " monkies," and our " fivers," 
 and " Patrick's c'rect card " was the only 
 " hst " that we saw from year to year. We 
 slept after the race was over, and balanced 
 our winnings against our losses without the 
 aid of arithmetical calculation. 
 
 At the time of which I write Manchester 
 was about entering upon its first stages of the 
 sporting fever. Several people were known 
 to have made large fortunes at very little ex- 
 ercise of their brains, and the whole tag-rag 
 and bob-tail of would-be millionnaires mingled 
 their yells in the great scramble for the pos-
 
 162 IRKDALE. 
 
 session of unhallowed wealth. F , who 
 
 could not squeeze a living out of the beer- 
 barrel, had "made a good thing of it." 
 
 S , who had scarcely sense enough to sit 
 
 on a cart shaft, now handled bank notes as if 
 they were so much tobacco paper ; and 
 
 W , after exhausting every profession in 
 
 the low^est grade, now rode in his own " trap," 
 and was deemed " good for a thousand ; " and 
 all this by having taken to " betting." Who 
 would work for a living, with such examples 
 of easily attained prosperity before them ? 
 
 It was " cup " day, and the best horse- 
 flesh w^as to be brought out for such an im- 
 portant and momentous occasion. Those who 
 would only bet hundreds upon minor events, 
 now invested their thousands ; and little 
 sporting men, who had not got beyond silver, 
 made their engagements proportionately. 
 " Thomas-street " had been deserted at an 
 early hour ; its frequenters having betaken 
 themselves to the banks of the Irwell, where 
 they could exercise their vocation upon more 
 legitimate ground. Only a few remained be-
 
 IRKDALE. 163 
 
 hind, and these were of that unlucky class 
 who were invariably missing " good things," 
 by hairbreadth chances, and, as a matter of 
 consequence, were always penniless. Three 
 or four were congregated about the steps of 
 the " Mill-stone," consulting the pages of very 
 small books, and making pencil-marks oppo- 
 site certain names. Driblets of others were 
 passing in and out at the tavern-door, very- 
 intent upon fathoming the mysteries of fore- 
 knowledge, through the agency of beer, coflPee, 
 and tobacco. One of the latter, after having 
 taken a bird's-eye view of the street, right 
 and left, put up his finger, and immediately a 
 rather seedy-looking female, with a bonnet 
 that had once been gay, and reticule that had 
 seen better days, crossed over the street, and 
 the two engaged in a very animated conversa- 
 tion for about five minutes. 
 
 " I have just seen Mr Herbert," said the 
 woman, " and he advised me by all means to 
 put my Kttle money on Queen Bess, it's sure 
 to pull it off." 
 
 " What price is it at ? " inquired the
 
 164 IRKDALE. 
 
 other, picking the hnt from the corner of his 
 pocket, for want of something more sub- 
 stantial to get hold of." 
 
 " Out of the betting altogether," replied 
 the female, with a very knowing and confi- 
 dent air. " If it wins, it'll be quite a turn- 
 up." 
 
 " Heaw is it, Fan ?" said the fellow, chuck- 
 ing his companion under the chin, upon 
 which hung a drop of perspiration and red 
 paint, " ut theaw's gettcn so thick wi' Mes- 
 thur Herbert ut he'll tell thee owt theaw 
 wants t' know ? " 
 
 " Pothook, do you see any green in my 
 eye ? " said Fan, touching with her fore-finger 
 a rather bleared optic, and exhibiting a smirk 
 upon her face that looked like an old smile 
 worn threadbare. 
 
 " Oh, it's that road, is it ? Cleeans his 
 office, and rubs his desk, an' tak's care t' 
 aulas be weel brusht up thyscl whenever he 
 meets thee. Oh, I see," and " Pothook " 
 placed his finger to his nose in a manner 
 which implies having the most profound
 
 IRKDALE. 165 
 
 knowledge of other people's business, and the 
 concerns of the world in general, 
 
 " Come, if you insinuate anything, Mister 
 Pothook, I shall cry quits at once, and have 
 done with you," said the ow^ner of the reticule 
 and tawdry, with some real or feigned indig- 
 nation in her manner. 
 
 " Well, happen sooner an' betther," re- 
 joined Pothook. " Theaw's gan me straight 
 tips till I've welly bin tipt i'th' warkheawse. 
 I've bin winnin' mooar brass this yer nor a 
 wheelbarrow ud howd if thy tips had bin ow^t 
 t' go by. Neaw I've welly emptied my w^are- 
 heawse int' owd Jinny cellar [a putty shop* in 
 
 street], an' I've abeawt threehawpence 
 
 laft for t' carry on Whissundy." 
 
 It must here be observed that our old ac- 
 quaintance Pothook had, during a severe and 
 prolonged panic in the silk trade, " emigrated " 
 to Manchester, and set up the business of 
 purveyor of a certain class of delicacies mostly 
 consumed in spirit vaults and beer-houses. 
 For this purpose he had opened a " warehouse," 
 
 * Putty s7ioj> ; an unliceused pawnshop.
 
 1C6 IRKDALE. 
 
 as he called it, in a very narrow street con- 
 tiguous to Smithfield Market, where he treated 
 his neighbouring merchants to a daily feast 
 upon the odour proceeding from the prepara- 
 tion of " hot peas," fried fish, and pickled 
 mussels; adding, on certain occasions, tripe 
 and trotters to the repast. He had been in 
 the habit of " investing " a moiety of the profits 
 accruing from this business on the uncertain 
 virtues of horseflesh, led on by the incentives 
 which his neighbour " Fan," who was a 
 " tipster " on a small scale, contrived to have 
 at her command. The sinking of the profits 
 in these absorbing speculations led to portions 
 of the stock being appropriated to the same 
 purpose, until the pea-can, tripe-basket, boil- 
 ing-pan, a ricketty table, and a three-legged 
 stool — the best of his plant and furniture, had 
 followed each other to the dingy precincts of 
 " Old Jinny's" cellar, where they were held in 
 pledge for a fourth of their value advanced to 
 Pothook for the purpose mentioned. Becom- 
 ing bankrupt, he cast about among his cronies, 
 who mostly carried on a miscellaneous trade.
 
 IRKDALE. 
 
 167 
 
 and was at length enabled, by their united as- 
 sistance, to commence business as a vendor of 
 " handicap books " and lead pencils, where 
 we have found him — again at the lowest ebb 
 of fortune. 
 
 " Well," observed Fan, commiserating the 
 attenuated circumstances of her friend, " I'd a 
 bit of luck yesterday ; I got lots of stamps for 
 tips ; besides, I drew * Heme ' in a sweep, and 
 sold it for half-a-crown ; so if you like, I'll 
 stand twopennoth for you, being as you're 
 skinned." 
 
 " Did t' draw Heme, dost say ? " Pothook 
 eagerly inquired. 
 
 " Yes, Herne ; they say it's no good," was 
 the reply. 
 
 " By owd Sam," exclaimed Pothook, 
 striking his hand with the other, "if I'd a 
 tanner I'd put it upo' that tit. I yerd some 
 chaps whisperin' o'er it i' Aarons, an' they'rn 
 sayin' it ud poo it off like owd boots. Theaw're 
 a swetty, Pan, for sellin' thy chance. If 
 theaw'll lend me a bob I'se be a rich mon t' 
 neet."
 
 1G8 IRKDALE. 
 
 " Will you pay me back if you win ? '* 
 
 " Ay, th' fust brass I pay to anybody." 
 
 " Honour bright ? " 
 
 " As sure as nails." 
 
 " The required sum was advanced, which, 
 being increased to thirteen pence halfpenny, 
 these humble votaries of the "turf" entered 
 the "Mill-stone." 
 
 It was not difficult for Pothook to obtain 
 very fair odds against his horse, so he invested 
 his shilling the first opportunity, which caused 
 him to feel as much interest in the race as if he 
 had ventured a thousand pounds upon it. The 
 arrangement fairly concluded betwixt " book- 
 maker" and "backer," the latter betook him- 
 self, in company with his friend, to the 
 enjoyment of his " twopennoth " in the 
 vault, where they seated themselves in a 
 snug corner to discourse and speculate 
 upon the probabilities of the forthcoming 
 race. 
 
 After descanting in professional terms on 
 the merits and " performances " of certain 
 horses — the tricks of jockeys and stable doctor-
 
 IRKDALE. 1G9 
 
 ing, along with other matters appertaining to 
 the glorious institution of the turf, they turned 
 upon things of a more private and confidential 
 nature, the elements of which were closely as- 
 sociated with downright scandal, and its ac- 
 companying intrigue. 
 
 "Mesthur Herbert must win a deeal o' 
 brass," observed Pothook, " or else he couldno' 
 carry on as he does." 
 
 "Why, heaw does he carry on?" his 
 companion inquired, at the same time looking 
 as if she could have answered the question 
 herself. 
 
 " Oh, theaw knows. Fan," replied the other, 
 with a prolonged wink given across his half 
 profile. " He keeps two heawses on i' th' 
 teawn here, ut swallown up as mich brass as a 
 church, beside th' Grange ut he lives at. Then 
 he's a wife, too, ut nob'dy hardly ever sees, 
 un they sen he hast' keep brass fro her, or else 
 hoo'd give it a' away. I wish hoo'd mak' a mis- 
 take sometime, an' let me get within raich of 
 her hont ; we'd have a rare boylin' o' paes an' 
 tripe. Pan, — whorr ? "
 
 170 IRKDALE. 
 
 Fan was too much engaged in examining 
 and sorting the contents of a curiously-made 
 purse to notice the latter observations of her 
 friend, and she merely assented to the other 
 conclusions by a couple of abstracted nods, 
 given slowly and with apparent reserve. 
 
 " He's gooin t' mak that lad of his int' a 
 pa'son, they sen," Pothook continued, " but be- 
 tween thee an me, I think th' young un's up 
 to a thing or two hissel. He's paid mooar 
 brass for a pipe nor a' my clooas han cost; 
 but he dar no' tak it whoam for fear his fey- 
 they ud see it. An' then he's cooartin' very 
 strongly, too." 
 
 " Courting, is he ? " exclaimed Fan, with 
 apparent curiosity, as she replaced the purse 
 in her bosom. " Is she light-haired and 
 stout ? " 
 
 "A fat un? Nawe, hoo's owt but that. 
 Last time I seed her, hoo're as slim as a grey- 
 hound, and had a yed as black as my hat — 
 when it wur black, but neaw it's as breawn 
 as owd George Ilollant stockins ; " and thus 
 commenting upon the dilapidated state of his
 
 IKKDALE. 171 
 
 head-covering, Pothook Hghted a short black 
 pipe, and commenced sucking the stem most 
 determinedly. 
 
 " Then I'm mistaken in the person," said 
 Fan. " I met him one day in company with 
 a yomig lady of quite an opposite description, 
 and of very wealthy parents. I did hear, too, 
 that there had been some marriage arrange- 
 ment made between the two families. But 
 this is some time ago, and the match may 
 have been broken off." 
 
 " Well," said Pothook, " I nobbut just yerd 
 a whisper abeawt this tother, an' ther happen 
 may be nowt in't. I ha' no' bin i' Irkdale 
 this month or two, an' ther's three or four o' 
 my owd neighbours theere bothern me so micli 
 every time I see 'em, abeawt some brass they 
 owe me, ut I welly think Fse never goo agen. 
 I hope ther's no two-shuttlet wark gooin' on 
 amung 'em." 
 
 "Two-shuttled work; what do you mean 
 by that ? " 
 
 " Cooartin, one for w^eddin', an' th' tother 
 fort mak a foo' on her."
 
 172 IRKDALE. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " sighed Pan, casting her 
 eyes pensively on the floor; "the wicked- 
 ness and deceit of this world. If my poor 
 father and mother had ever thought that I 
 
 should come to this ," and she let fall a 
 
 brief shower of tears over the memor}^ of better 
 days. 
 
 " Drop it. Fan, or else theaw'll wesh a'th' 
 paint off thy face," entreated Pothook, in a 
 compassionate tone. " Ther's mony a one 
 niisst ther tip beside thee ; so fret nowt at it. 
 I shouldno like nowt t' happen to that wench 
 noather, booath for her own an' owd queer 
 Jakey Robi'son's sake." 
 
 " You know her then ? " 
 
 " Know her ? Pve known her ever sin' 
 hoo're th' height o' that wench theere," ex- 
 claimed Pothook, pointing to a little girl to 
 whom the mother was imparting the first 
 lessons in the art of dram-drinking. " An' a 
 bonny bit o' flesh an' blood hoo is. Owd 
 Jakey thinks mooar on her nor he does of a' th' 
 heawse beside — pigs, ducks, hens, an' every- 
 thin'."
 
 IRKDALE. 173 
 
 " It would be a pity if she fell/' obseiTed 
 the other, placing considerable emphasis on 
 the last word. 
 
 " Fell ? what dost meean ? Pan, theaw 
 knows summut mooar nor what theaw's 
 towd abeawt this ; an' if its nobbut for th' 
 sake o' Avhat theaw wur oncet, dunno let nowt 
 go wrank for th' want o' telhn'." 
 
 " I know nothing ^et ; but perhaps I may 
 get to know something," said Fan, again heav- 
 ing a sigh, and putting on a pensive look. 
 " For the present, let's say nothing more. If 
 you intend going to the races, it's time you 
 were off. For myself, I'll stay at home to- 
 day. I have some dread upon me that I can- 
 not shift, and I keep wondering what's going 
 to happen." 
 
 " Then I'll be off," said Pothook, jumping 
 up, and knocking his pipe against the counter. 
 " I meeant do some sportin' to-day, if I con 
 get into a penny sweep. Mind if I dunna 
 mak a poynt or two afore I come back. 
 Then " bottoming " his " twopennoth," and 
 bidding his companion " ta, ta ! " the light-
 
 174 IRKDALE. 
 
 hearted fellow threw up a sanguine heel at 
 the door, and was soon merrily rattling 
 his clogs down Shudehill, on his way to 
 Broughton. 
 
 Pan, having got rid of her friend, com- 
 menced her perambulations of the betting 
 market ; — looked round at the " Bay Horse ; " 
 indulged herself with coffee and buttered muf- 
 fin at the " Cheshire House ; " peeped in at 
 " Bart's " to look over the " tissues ;" and as a 
 wind-up to her morning's business, adjourned 
 with several companions of her own sex to the 
 " King " vault, where she patronized " Oyster 
 John" to the extent of threepennyworth of 
 " as purty fish as iver knife hopen'd ; " and 
 finally took part in the old farce of shaking 
 heads and pulling faces over delightful " nog- 
 gins " of whisky-punch, until the whole world 
 seemed to be pouring luck into her lap.
 
 175 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Pothook sped towards the race-ground 
 like a very erratic Mercury ; now and then 
 getting a lift on the steps of a 'bus when the 
 guard happened to be collecting outside fares, 
 and at other times competing with the speed 
 of an overladen spring-cart, or a cab with a 
 sleepy driver. By these means he found him- 
 self at the Broughton pay-bridge in the space 
 of that most impossible of all periods "no 
 time," where he managed to get smuggled 
 across the river through the freemasonry ex- 
 pressed by a peculiar movement of his hat, and 
 a wink of recognition to the toll-taker. 
 
 Our friend, though one of those unlucky 
 fellows whom " money will not stay with," as 
 we often hear remarked, was nevertheless " up " 
 to various commercial " dodges " probably un- 
 known to our grandees in the neiglibourhood
 
 170 IRKDALE. 
 
 of the Infirmary. He could make a penny 
 where others would miss one, and perhaps lose 
 it again before it had time to warm in his 
 pocket. From this habit of money " scaven- 
 ging," — i. e., scraping it up ft'om unlikely 
 places, — he began to look about as soon as he 
 entered the precincts of the course for some- 
 thing out of which he could " punse a meg," 
 as he would term it, and thereby be enabled 
 to back his horse the more strongly. 
 
 Several gentlemen of the " Stiggins " cloth, 
 who make an annual practice of attending the 
 races for purposes not named in the pro- 
 gramme, were congregated about a number of 
 boards placarded with various inscriptions cal- 
 culated to excite terror in weak-minded peo- 
 ple, and were holding forth to the listless 
 crowd as the latter passed the gates leading 
 to the bridge. Assuming a very demui-e look, 
 Pothook sidled up to these gentlemen, and 
 accosted one who appeared to be the leader, 
 in a manner that recommended him to the 
 notice of the whole gang. 
 
 " I'll liver yo' a theawsunt o' thoose eawt
 
 IRKDALE. 177 
 
 for tliiippnnce," he said, pointing to a heap of 
 tracts which lay on a ricketty stall. 
 
 Three of the gentlemen looked at each 
 other as if they thought the offer of our friend 
 opened a new field for their peculiar enter- 
 prise, and would be a means of relieving them 
 of a considerable share of their work. A bar- 
 gain was at once struck ; the three speculators 
 agreeing to contribute a penny each out of 
 their own pockets to make up the sum required 
 by their newly-enlisted fellow-worker for the 
 execution of his task. A ])acket, supposed to 
 contain a thousand " tracts," was therefore 
 handed to Pothook, along with the three- 
 pence, and the little fellow entered upon his 
 duties with an industry that called forth ex- 
 clamations of delight from his employers. 
 
 It would be quite natural for the reader 
 to expect that the three enthusiastic " break- 
 ers of images " Avould be unreservedly sold by 
 their newly-appointed agent, and that the lat- 
 ter, as soon as he got out of sight, would be 
 tempted to dispose of his tracts by wholesale ; 
 but there happens to be more honesty in hu-
 
 178 IRKDALE. 
 
 man nature than is sometimes given credit for, 
 and here was an instance. The fabulous " pig 
 at a fair " was never more busily engaged in 
 running " in and out " than was Pothook in 
 visiting booths and " brick-bars " whilst deliv- 
 ering his papers ; and the most exacting pa- 
 trons of this kind of missionary work must 
 have complimented the great success achieved 
 by our little friend in his praiseworthy endea- 
 vour to supply the crowd with the means of 
 lighting their pipes or cigars. 
 
 Whether there would be any greater good 
 resulting from this proceeding than a mere 
 temporary convenience, had nothing to do 
 with Pothook. He was only earning his 
 wages, as others were, without considering the 
 amount of public good likely to accrue from 
 his labour. It certainly did occur to him that 
 amongst a concourse of people excited almost 
 to frenzy by hazardous speculation, few would 
 be inclined to reflect seriously upon texts of 
 Scripture ; or if they did reflect at all, it would 
 probably beget a momentary contempt for 
 what, doubtless, are well-intentioned efforts to
 
 IRKDALE. 179 
 
 counteract the immoral influences of the bet- 
 ting mania. The man who had money at 
 stake thought not of the safety of his soul just 
 then ; and the whole army of " special mis- 
 sionaries." formed into a solid square, and as- 
 sailing him with platoons of exhortation, would 
 not have awakened him to the " error of his 
 ways," or abstracted one iota of the interest he 
 felt in the issue of the day's proceedings. 
 
 Pothook had no sooner emptied his parcel, 
 which he vowed contained a " Yorkshar theaw- 
 sant " (meaning thereby twice the number ori- 
 ginally stated), than he betook himself to 
 where the crowd was thickest and the most 
 excited, as there might be chances of making 
 a few coppers b}' some stratagem or other, 
 where so much money was constantly chang- 
 ing hands. To a spot close by the grand 
 stand, where people have to squeeze themselves 
 through a narrow, ill-contrived passage, faceti- 
 ously named by a wag " Amen Corner," the 
 little fellow, with much pushing and elbowing, 
 made his way, and immediately found himself 
 in the company of several well-known tricksters
 
 180 IRKDALE. 
 
 of the turf, by whom he was recognized. Here 
 the " dervishes " of sporting hfe were working 
 themselves into a state of wild excitement, by 
 vociferous invitations to the surging crowd to 
 come and win something from them. Num- 
 bers of these were elevated on inverted tubs ; 
 others proclaimed their willingness to do busi- 
 ness from temporary erections of boards and 
 stakes, whilst the more humble were rushing 
 about from place to place, throwing up their 
 arms, and entreating all lovers of sport to in- 
 vest on the principal event. 
 
 One of the last-named class, a fellow of 
 about 5ft. 2in., but a giant in his own estima- 
 tion, was endeavouring, with book held up, to 
 make known his willingness to bet " any 
 amount " on the approaching race. Slapping 
 this individual on the shoulder. Pothook sug- 
 gested that he had better draw himself out 
 like a telescope, otherwise no one would know 
 of his existence: a piece of advice hardly 
 relished by the party to whom it was tend- 
 ered. 
 
 " You'd better let me get on yer shoul-
 
 IRKDALE. ISl 
 
 ders," said the little turfite, sarcastically, " I 
 could do some business there." 
 
 "Theaw'st get on for a bob," returned 
 Pothook, eagerly snatching at the idea ; " so 
 nieawnt my Tummy, neck-saddle fashion, an' 
 I'll show thee little Lunnon i' no time." 
 
 " xlgreed on," said the other without fur- 
 ther hesitation, " so duck yer tuppeny, and 
 up goes the donkey." 
 
 " Tip us yor rhino then, or else put in on 
 ' Heme ' four to one," said Pothook, bendinsr 
 down to receive his rider. 
 
 " All right," responded the other, making 
 hasty memoranda in his book. " So here you 
 are." 
 
 Without more ado the little betting man 
 took up his position on his friend's Tummy — 
 as the latter termed a slight protuberance be- 
 twixt his shoulders — and he was immediately 
 hoisted above most of his fraternity, several 
 of whom had time to give a cheer before the 
 bell was heard to ring. 
 
 Pothook and his fare had now opportunity 
 of doing a considerable amount of business,
 
 182 IRKDALE. 
 
 the novelty of the situation attracting people 
 who would otherwise have passed by without 
 noticing them. The little book-maker had 
 now no necessity for exerting his lungs to any 
 great extent, but sat in his stirrups booking 
 with all his might, and taking more money 
 than his mouth would hold. 
 
 The murmur which had some time been 
 increasing on and about the stands, now 
 swelled into a loud roar, ebbing and flowing 
 as each horse was led out of the " paddock " 
 and cantered playfully past. The " Dervishes " 
 were now more frenzied than ever, and offered 
 reckless terms to all comers, whilst " respect- 
 able " speculators, who usually did things 
 coolly, caught the excitement of their inferiors, 
 and held out such advantages to patrons as no 
 doubt induced the latter to flock in shoals 
 to the promised Eldorado. Along the whole 
 line of the course, forming two dark bands that 
 gradually broadened as they ncared the goal, 
 the spectators were packing themselves, leav- 
 ing only a few stragglers here and there who 
 had probably risked nothing except their
 
 IRKDALE. 183 
 
 necks at the " Amen Corner," and who con- 
 sequently felt Httle interest in the race. 
 Several red-coated horsemen were engaged in 
 riding backwards and forwards at various 
 points, keeping the course clear, and restoring 
 the even line of spectators when it tended 
 to bulge forward into the enclosure, from a 
 too great eagerness to be foremost in the 
 ranks. 
 
 During the previous half-hour it had been 
 rumoured that " Heme " had not arrived, and 
 doubts as to his ever coming in time were en- 
 tertained by many. Still the " money market " 
 showed no material change in " prices ;" al- 
 though people were less anxious to do " busi- 
 ness " on the favourite's accoiuit. Our friend 
 the " list " vender began to feel a Httle uneasi- 
 ness concerning his investment, and more than 
 once, as the rumour of his horse's absence 
 gained ground, wished the couple of shillings 
 safely in his own pocket ; but he had risked 
 the remaining four pence in as many penny 
 "sweeps," from one or other of which he 
 hoped to win sufficient to carry him home.
 
 184 IRKDALE. 
 
 and even then he would be as rich as when he 
 set out ; so what did it matter ? 
 
 But the favourite came not, and more in- 
 tense grew the anxiety in the vicinity of the 
 paddock. Had any one on the grand stand 
 looked across the course towards a cluster of 
 carriages chiefly occupied by members of a 
 nameless order of society, he might have be- 
 held a scene even more exciting than that 
 which was passing around him. There an 
 individual was making engagements that 
 seemed to involve the alternative of a princely 
 fortune or bankruptcy. The wine had freely 
 flowed, and bets were made whilst this whole- 
 sale speculator was reeling with intoxication. 
 Wildly he scattered the ashes of his cigar over 
 the heads of those beneath him; madly and 
 coarsely he raved to the group of whom he 
 formed the centre; impiously he challenged 
 both divine and infernal power to interfere 
 witli his destiny. His fate had been to 2vln 
 ever since his first stake was ventured, and 
 fortune was not the hussy to desert him now. 
 
 A small flafT at this moment fluttered in
 
 IRKDALE. 185 
 
 the distance, and gathering about it were the 
 horses that were to contend in the race. Then 
 followed a period of suspense, during which 
 many held their breath, and watched atten- 
 tively the movements about the grand stand. 
 As yet there was no visible change in the 
 prospect of events ; the starters were getting 
 abreast of each other, and the flag was mo- 
 mentarily expected to signal— "oflF." Hold! 
 — There is commotion in the paddock ; a loud 
 shout rends the air ; the crowd divides near 
 the winning-post, and now, lithe as the winged 
 steeds of fable, with nostrils dilating, and neck 
 shot out as if eager for fliglit, the missing 
 favourite springs upon the course. " Heme " 
 had only just arrived. There was not even 
 time to plate his feet. He must needs run as 
 he had travelled; and away he went to the 
 " scratch." 
 
 The drunken speculator turned deadly 
 pale on hearing the shout, as its significance 
 was too apparent to need interpreting. He 
 had received, the day before, what he deemed 
 a most valuable " tip," to the effect that
 
 186 IRKDALE. 
 
 " Hcrne " would not be forthcoming when re- 
 quired, and this had induced him to hazard 
 immense sums against the horse. The pro- 
 spect of the issue was changed in a twinkhng 
 on the favourite's turning up, and the excite- 
 ment grew more intense than ever. 
 
 Now they are off — scampering pellmell — 
 a stragghng host ; and away with them go 
 visions of suddenly acquired wealth, and grand 
 villas on the green slopes of Kersal. Now 
 they stretch out into a long tail that changes 
 continually in its proportions, — " Childrey " 
 leading, closely followed by " Satinstone," 
 " Heme," and " Underhand," The grand 
 stand is passed, and Babelous are the sounds 
 which issue thence to greet the foremost horse. 
 The favourite is still behind, but improving 
 in his position, and streams of perspiration 
 are pouring down a certain face that is pain- 
 fully turned towards the flying cloud. Nearer 
 and nearer the front — gaining at every spring 
 — sweeps onward the gallant " Hcrne." Now 
 the foremost heads become mingled — they 
 are in a line — one shoots out from amongst the
 
 IRKDALE. 1S7 
 
 rest — it is the favourite's — and aerial castles 
 are tumbling around as the repeated shouts of 
 " Heme wins ! " strike on the ear. It is all 
 over; the winning-post is gained; the num- 
 bers go up ; the crowd closes on the course, 
 and " Heme" is proclaimed the victor. 
 
 The little betting man had dismounted 
 from his novel stand on the commencement 
 of the race, and w^as now handing over five 
 shillings in bright, smooth silver to the en- 
 riched Pothook, who could hardly beheve his 
 senses on seeing himself become suddenly 
 possessed of so much wealth. The latter had 
 beside accepted odds to the extent of five to 
 one before he left town, and this sum would 
 augment his fortune to eleven shillings, less 
 the one he had borrowed from " Pan." What 
 a " raker " he had made ! What a jollification 
 he would have when he returned to town, and 
 what visions of redeemed pea-cans and tripe- 
 baskcts floated before him ! 
 
 Pothook, elated at his success, now turned 
 to leave the course, and had squeezed himself 
 through " Amen Corner," when he stopped to
 
 1S8 IRKDALE. 
 
 consider whether he ought to walk home, or do 
 the thing respectably, and 'bus the distance. 
 With such an amount of cash upon his person 
 the latter njode of getting over the journey 
 would be the safest, besides being " nobby," 
 and smacking of legitimate race-going. So 
 decidinc- at once that he would ride, he made 
 for the nearest conveyance, which was rapidly 
 filling, and jumping on the step, had com- 
 menced climbing to the top when he felt a 
 hand pulling rather unceremoniously at his 
 coat-tails. 
 
 " Whoa's that ut's howd o' my wings ? " 
 demanded the frightened fellow, as he slipped 
 backwards ; then turning round, he found him- 
 self in the presence of an old acquaintance, 
 who was all over grins at the recognition, and 
 the several exclamations of — 
 
 " Dick ! " 
 
 " Pothook ! " 
 
 " Owd lad!" — were immediately ex- 
 changed between the two. 
 
 The person who had seized the list vender 
 by the coat tails was no other than our
 
 IRKDALE. 189 
 
 youthful acquaintance, Master Richard Robin- 
 son, who, to fulfil the intention vowed in a 
 previous chapter, had been spending the 
 afternoon at the races ; and if the two friends 
 did not fall into each other's arms w^ien 
 they met, they shook hands in the warmest 
 manner. 
 
 " An what has theaw bin backin' ? " de- 
 manded Pothook, giving the other a profes- 
 sionally quizzing look, as he pushed him out 
 of the way of the pressing crowd. 
 
 " Nowt," replied Dick, dropping his 
 countenance ; " I nobbut coom eawt o' th' 
 road o' things awhoam." 
 
 " Why, what's up ? Thy feyther cross ? 
 Mooar wark nor he con do, an' wants thee t' 
 help him ? " 
 
 " Nawe ; catch my feyther doin' owt i' 
 Whissun-week, if he con help it ; an I know 
 nob'dy ut con droive him. Ther's summut 
 else." 
 
 " Owt ut consarns everybody ? " 
 
 " Nawe ; it's nowt to nob'dy, nobbut — 
 never mnid : I'll tell thee sometime else.
 
 190 IRKDALE. 
 
 Let's be gettiii' away afore th' road's so 
 thriing. Art' for ridin ? " 
 
 " Noa iicaw I've let o' thee. I want t' 
 ha' some talk wi' thee, an' if theaw's a mind 
 w'en just get o'er th' bridge, an' liave a quiet 
 gill t'gether at th' ' Bridge Inn,' or some- 
 wheere. I'm fain t' see thee, lad, that I am." 
 And Pothook gave his friend another shake by 
 the hand. 
 
 " Ileaw^ are they a' i'th' Hollow ? Is thy 
 feyther hearty, an' thy moather ? " 
 
 " Ay, for owt I know." 
 
 " Does th' owd lad keep gooin' to th' 
 Jumper ov a Sethurday neet, an' gettin' croot 
 pints ? Heaw's owd Johnny gettin' on ? Has 
 he whitewesht that ale-shot o' mine ut he sed 
 wur a sticker? What's Swinkey doin' on 
 neaw ; twinin'-in an' gaitin' ? Does owd Saul 
 keep bein' a king yet? I reckon Chnker's 
 made his fortin by this time, an' gan up his 
 smithy to Joe, th' prentis. Joe's a dacent 
 lad ; as good a striker as ever lifted a hommer, 
 CHnker sed lie wur ; an' he could hondle a 
 piece o' hoyrn like a l)attin'-rod."
 
 IRKDALE. 191 
 
 Dick found it difficult to answer all these 
 questions, put as they were in a breath, and 
 without order. He, however, sorted them as 
 well as he could, and gave such answers to the 
 foremost as accorded with his knowledge. 
 He was getting down to Clinker and the 
 smithy, when a cry of " Stand aside ! " was 
 shouted in the rear, and repeated along the 
 route. 
 
 Immediately a tumult arose ; people 
 sprang hastily from the crowded carriage-way 
 upon the still more crowded foot-path. 'Bus 
 drivers were swearing, and casting uneasy 
 glances behind ; pedestrians looked terrified, 
 and pressed each other against the fence, — 
 when, amidst a cloud of dust, his horses gal- 
 loping at the utmost speed, and swerving to 
 and fro as if the reins were held by a madman, 
 the drunken turf speculator, whom we have 
 before met with, was seen to come dashing 
 along the road. Fearfully the horses plunged 
 and reeled; the carriage bounded and rolled 
 as if the next pitch would hurl it from the 
 road into the river, which it was approaching ;
 
 192 IRKDALE. 
 
 and neck-or-nothing it swept over the bridge, 
 and was soon out of sight and hearing. 
 
 " If that isno' Mesthur Herbert," observed 
 Dick, in amazement at the audacity of the 
 spectacle, " I dunno' know him. AVhat does 
 thcaw say, Pothook ; is nor it him ? " 
 
 " It's him ut wur," rephed the other ; 
 " but I think he's someb'dy else to-day. He's 
 bin winnin' heavily, I'll bet owt." 
 
 " Or happen losi7i'," suggested Dick. 
 
 " Losiii ? He never loses : he's too weel 
 dipt i'th' brimstone pot for t" lose. 
 
 " What dost meean by that ? '" 
 
 " Well, I think he's consanis wi'tli' Oivd 
 Lad,'' said Pothook in a suppressed tone, and 
 giving the other a look full of dark insinua- 
 tions. " He's sich luck as never nob'dy had 
 before — skins a' he comes nee, whether at 
 racin', or cards, or billiards, or no matther 
 what. He's a perfect, double-mcawnted, go- 
 ahead, stick- at -nowt — ". Pothook finished 
 the sentence by pointing significantly towards 
 his toes, the meaning of which action was 
 easily gathered by his companion.
 
 IRKDALE. 193 
 
 The two had now arrived at the Bridge 
 Inn, where we will leave them for the present, 
 enjoying their "quiet gills," and discoursing 
 upon matters which affected the principal 
 characters connected with this story.
 
 194 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Upon a slight, green eminence, which 
 overlooks the Irk where it winds round to 
 receive its principal tributary, stands a solitary- 
 mansion, that by some freak of its owner's 
 invention has been named the " Grange." It 
 is a fine-looking, if not an elegant structure, 
 composed principally of brick, and is of com- 
 paratively modern date. Many windows stud 
 the front, which is deeper than the back, from 
 its being built partially upon the slope, and a 
 high, pointed roof gives it some pretensions 
 to the Gothic style of architecture. A long, 
 narrow window lights the staircase, the several 
 landings being indicated by as many lightly- 
 constructed balconies projecting from them. 
 From the uppermost of these balconies a fine 
 view of the country looking towards Chcetham 
 and Crumpsall may be obtained ; as well as
 
 IRKDALE. 195 
 
 the windings of the Irk, whose stream at this 
 point is comparatively clear. There is an 
 ostentations display of dry fountains, plaster 
 Cupids, and nude goddesses scattered about 
 the grounds ; and half-concealed fawns and 
 satyrs peep from amongst tangled shrubberies, 
 which form two crescents on each side of the 
 lawn. 
 
 Everything about the mansion would seem 
 to indicate the wealth of the owner, as waste 
 rather than taste is expressed in the lavish 
 manner by which ornamentation has been at- 
 tempted. Few people had access to the house 
 at the time of which I write, as the occupants, 
 when at home, preferred to lead a moderately 
 secluded life ; and, when we consider the class 
 of profession by which the establishment was 
 supported, this preference for retirement need 
 not be wondered at. 
 
 Upon the uppermost balcony were two 
 ladies seated, watching the gambols of the 
 school children, who were playing on the 
 opposite slope. One was a dehcate- looking 
 person, of some forty summers, who had at
 
 196 IRKDALE. 
 
 one time been beautiful, and was still " fair to 
 behold." But there was an anxious expression 
 upon her countenance that apparently nothing 
 could dispel, and this detracted in some degree 
 from looks that would otherwise have been 
 more than ordinarily interesting. 
 
 The other was a different person altogether, 
 with a blooming, cheerful face, that scarcely 
 ever changed its expression, and an eye that 
 seemed to be flashing everywhere at once from 
 its unceasing roll, as it glanced from her com- 
 panion, and swept the prospect which the po- 
 sition commanded. This lady was not of the 
 class termed beautiful, nor were her hands of 
 those delicate proportions that would become 
 an amber glove, or the newest style of fan ; 
 yet there was so much that was pleasing about 
 her person and temperament as to make ample 
 amends for what nature had denied her in an- 
 other form. 
 
 " I wonder," observed the latter person, 
 apparently resuming a conversation that had 
 been interrupted, " that you take so little 
 interest in Mr Herbert's affairs. I should be
 
 IRKDALE. 197 
 
 deliditcd, I'm sure, if I thousrlit Georpje had 
 the spirit to give np his miserable profession 
 and take to betting altogether. AVhat is a 
 paltry three hmidred a-year, when people 
 whom I know, and who were not at one 
 time worth a straw, are now making their 
 thousands." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs LightoUer," replied the other 
 lady, in her usual pensive mood, " it is not all 
 gold that glitters, as you know. Better have 
 a little and a good conscience, than acquire 
 wealth at the expense of every principle that 
 ennobles human nature." 
 
 " But is there nothing respectable or hon- 
 est in betting?" 
 
 " Respectable there may be, according to 
 some people's ideas of respectability, and I 
 am even willing to allow that there is honesty 
 to be met with amongst sporting men ; but 
 when I see people rise in the profession in 
 spite of every exigency, * coining money,' as 
 the vulgar term it, I am forced to conclude 
 that there is something more than mere luck 
 at the bottom of their transactions."
 
 198 IKKDALE. 
 
 " And amongst these you would class your 
 own husband." 
 
 " What Mr Herbert is rests with his 
 Maker and his own conscience, and not with 
 my opinion. We cannot make exceptions to 
 principle in favour of those whom we love. My 
 husband, I admit, has been fortunate ; but 
 his fate may have a turn, and I sometimes 
 shudder when I think of the homes that have 
 been ruined — the families brought to want, 
 the feelings outraged, to supply the means for 
 our aggrandizement, and that there may come 
 a day when justice will avenge herself and 
 reverse the picture." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs Herbert, you are getting too 
 sentimental for this world ? Do not we all 
 live one upon another who are reputed honest 
 and respectable in society ? Look you here : 
 Mr Liglitoller is cashier in a warehouse. His 
 employers — their people, as he calls them — 
 trade upon the necessities of poorer firms. If 
 business be good, then all is right ; but if it 
 be bad, why then small capitalists, who can- 
 not aflPord to stand still, are forced to make
 
 IRKDALE. 199 
 
 bargains with more wealthy tradesmen that 
 eventually drive them into the Bankruptcy 
 Court, which I regard as a legal institution 
 set up to rob honest people. Now which is 
 the worst — taking advantage of in one in- 
 stance, or duping you in the other ? For the 
 soul of me I can't make out the difference." 
 
 " Mrs Lightoller, if you would introduce 
 one species of error on purpose to give coun- 
 tenance to another, you remove the premises 
 upon which I base my arguments. I contend 
 that both are wrong, notwithstanding the 
 legality and the impunity which gives them 
 the appearance of right ; and I would rather 
 be a beggar, carrying my crust in my satchel, 
 than occupy a position that dep^^nded on 
 either, if I were at liberty to choose. God 
 only knows what I suffer when I reflect upon 
 the events of the last fifteen years. It is a 
 wild dream to me — full of splendour, full of 
 woe ; the light only dazzling — the shade black 
 as death. I feel unusually depressed to-day, 
 and can only account for it by the incessant 
 fears I entertain that any moment we may be
 
 200 IRKDALE. 
 
 plunged in irretrievable ruin. The sight of 
 the children playing in yonder field makes 
 me even more melancholy, for they remind 
 me of a time when I was as innocent as 
 they are, and as light-hearted as they appear 
 to be." 
 
 It was a scene to remind the guiltiest of 
 days of innocence — was that which now drew 
 Mrs Herbert's attention from more unplea- 
 sant reminiscences. But why need the lady 
 be sad ? Surely so generous-hearted and 
 pure-minded a being hath no " cupboard" 
 in even the remotest corner of her memory 
 in which a " skeleton" could hide. All Irk- 
 dale could attest the kindness of her disposi- 
 tion. When oaths loud and deep called down 
 curses upon the head of her husband, the 
 same lips would utter a prayer for blessings 
 upon her. Little children, as they passed the 
 gates, would peep through the bars to see if 
 their benefactress was walking in the grounds. 
 They knew there would be a smile and a kind 
 word for them, if not something more ; but 
 if they heard the gruflf voice that indicated
 
 IRKDALE. 201 
 
 the presence of her lord and master, they 
 would run scared down the lane, and after- 
 wards communicate in mysterious whispers 
 their fears that " Owd Mungo" was at their 
 heels. 
 
 But the scene that was going on opposite 
 the " Grange." The cricket bat gave out its 
 lively " thuds ; " the ball rolled or flew on 
 provoking unmindfulness of who was " in " or 
 who was " out ; " and players were sweating 
 like haymakers in the broiling sun. Girls, who 
 would have taken offence at being called such, 
 chased each other for lack of more desirable 
 companions, and little boys were boisterously 
 emulous over the pleasant occupation of re- 
 ducing the number of their buttons. Others 
 of the school party of more sedate tastes 
 strolled here and there, or seated themselves 
 beneath the shade of a sycamore, — singing 
 hymns and eating currant bread, in happy 
 unenviousness of more active amusements. 
 Two of the latter party, who by some man- 
 oeuvre unknown to any discipline out of 
 Love's school, have separated themselves from
 
 202 IRKDALE. 
 
 the rest, are enjoying a quiet walk by the 
 river. School festivities appear to be forgot- 
 ten by these two, as they seek the more se- 
 cluded nooks of the valley to avoid observa- 
 tion. They are now as near to the " Grange" 
 as they can approach without crossing the 
 stream, and both the eyes of ]\Irs Herbert and 
 those of her companion are watching their 
 movements. 
 
 " That is Alfred, or I'm much mistaken," 
 observed Mrs Lightoller, alluding to one of 
 the young people by the river. 
 
 " Strange ; I didn't know my own son," 
 said Mrs Herbert, smiling, — " but I begin to 
 think with you it can be no other. Who is 
 the young lady ? " 
 
 " You ought to know best, Mrs Herbert ; 
 — I have never heard of his being engaged," 
 replied Mrs L., in a pettish tone, as if it had 
 occurred to her that something had been kept 
 from her knowledge that ought not to have 
 been. 
 
 " You know as much as I about Alfred's 
 being engaged," said the other lady, some-
 
 IRKDALE. 203 
 
 what astonished at the tone her companion 
 had assumed. " If there is a connection ex- 
 isting of that kind, I assure you I am totally 
 ignorant of it. Alfred is too young to think 
 of such a thing." 
 
 " Too young, indeed ! He's an older 
 bird than you take him to be ; — much 
 older in some things." And Mrs Lightoller 
 put on a very knowing and confidential 
 air. 
 
 " Why, what do you know of him ? " 
 
 " Oh nothing, nothing ; it was only a 
 careless remark of mine, — no meaning at all 
 in it." 
 
 " But there must be more meaning in it 
 than you would have me think, or you would 
 not have made the observation," Mrs Herbert 
 insisted, with some alarm expressed in her 
 manner. 
 
 " Appearances are not always in favour of 
 people, and I may be wrong in this instance, 
 still I always took Alfred to be a forward 
 boy ; " and Mrs Lightoller sought to drop an- 
 other hint by the expression of careless in-
 
 204 IRKDALE. 
 
 difference which was conveyed in the toss of 
 her head. 
 
 " I have not had the slightest reason for 
 supposing him to be a forward boy," urged Mi-s 
 Herbert. " He is of too modest and retiring 
 disposition, so far as I have seen of him, to 
 have given me any serious alarm concerning 
 his future conduct ; but I must acknowledge 
 that mothers don't see all. Was not that the 
 back-door bell ? " 
 
 Both ladies listened for several moments. 
 
 " I didn't hear it," observed Mrs Light- 
 oiler. " Your fancy makes bell- wires, I think, 
 at which your fears are constantly pulling. 
 Do you expect any one ? " 
 
 " Only my husband, and yet I dread his 
 coming ; but why I dread it I know not," and 
 Mrs Herbert pressed her hand to her bosom, 
 as if to still the flutterings of her heart. 
 
 "That is a pretty dress of yours, Mrs 
 Lightoller, neatly trimmed, and the fit so 
 beautiful. Who's been your makers, — the 
 bazaar people ? " 
 
 " No," replied the lady, blushing. " I
 
 IRKDALE. 205 
 
 can't afford to purchase at yoiir grand places. 
 Mr L. bought the silk as a wedding-day pre- 
 sent, and I got a young person to make it for 
 nie. 
 
 " Well, I must say that I am quite in love 
 with it," observed Mrs Herbert. "Who is 
 this young person ? " 
 
 " She's a Miss Wilson, lives with her 
 grandfather, a Mr Robinson, up in Irkdale. 
 She's a nice sort of body, very clever at the 
 needle, and, 1 assure you, she gets plenty of 
 work." 
 
 " Miss Wilson ! There goes the bell. I'm 
 not mistaken this time. Oh Mrs Lightoller, 
 — I feel so taken ! " 
 
 The lady was right. The back-door bell 
 rung violently, and an angry voice soimded from 
 below. It was Mr Herbert's voice, though 
 unusually deep and husky ; and ere its tones 
 had ceased to grate upon the ear, a heavy 
 footstep was heard upon the stair.
 
 206 
 
 CHAPTER XIIT. 
 
 If Pothook really expected to obtain a 
 " quiet gill " at the " Bridge Inn," he was 
 much mistaken in his calculations ; for the 
 house was literally besieged by people who 
 appeared not to care if they could get rough 
 pints, and the selection of a corner wherein to 
 sit down was a matter of some difficulty. At 
 length, squeezing himself behind a table, and 
 dragging his companion after him, our sporting 
 friend managed to edge himself into a seat, 
 whence he looked round at the company with 
 the air of one who was about to do something 
 grand. Several nods of recognition were ex- 
 chancrcd betwixt him and others of the " fra- 
 tcrnity," whilst invitations to a " glass " or 
 " twopennorth," or a "springer," were freely 
 given by people who possessed more money 
 than might have been expected from their
 
 IRKDALE. 207 
 
 appearance. These civilities Pothook declined, 
 preferring to share his winnings with his 
 friend, if only for the sake of old acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 " Theaw sees, Dick, what it is to be a 
 public charikter," he observed, giving an in- 
 dependent knock on the table. " Neaw, I 
 could have as mich dhrink as I could carry 
 whoam i' my pea-can, an' at other folks' ex- 
 pense, too ; but if I wur t' ax 'em to lend me 
 tuppence for t' get a meawthful o' sumniut t' 
 ate, they'd stare at me an' slap their hont o' 
 their pocket same as if they thowt I're gooin' 
 t' rob 'em. Neaw is not that queer ? " 
 
 Dick admitted the case was "rayther 
 queer," but forbore to make any further com- 
 ment upon it. 
 
 " I've found mony a queer thing eawt sin' 1 
 left th' Hollow," Pothook continued, "an' 
 some on 'em ud mak thee stare. As lung as 
 one lives in a nice quiet nook, same as yore 
 heawse, Dick, an' gets a' one wants, an' sees 
 nob'dy else wantin', we think th' woald's 
 gooin' on as reet as a wooden clock ; but come
 
 208 IRKDALE. 
 
 eawt o'th' dur, an' look abeawt thee abit, an' if 
 t' doesno' find it eawt ut theaw's bin wearin' 
 blinkers a' thy life ut'll nobbut let thee see 
 what's at th' eend o' thy nose, I'm a — I'm a — 
 pot-cat, an' that's a' abeawt it." 
 
 How it could be supposed that he had been 
 wearing "blinkers" all his life, or what re- 
 ference they could have to his friend's being 
 transformed into a " pot-cat," was quite a 
 puzzler to Dick Robinson, and if that was the 
 only information he was to be favoured with, 
 they had little need of a " quiet gill " over it. 
 But youth is so impatient. 
 
 "Well," observed the latter, "that may 
 be a' true ; I hanno seen so mich i' my time, 
 an' I'm happen no wurr for it ; but theaw sed 
 theaw'd summut particular to tell me. AVliat 
 is it like ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'se come to it e'enneaw, if theaw'U 
 nobbut wait a bit," replied Pothook, com- 
 placently. " If theaw'd a rope reawnd thy 
 neck, an' a bit o' timber under thy feet, theawd 
 noa be i' sich a hurry, I con tell thee. I meeant' 
 gie thee a lesson or two ut thcaw'll noa find i'
 
 IRKDALE. 209 
 
 110 book thy feyther has ; becose book writers 
 known nowt abeawt sich like things. Neaw 
 we'rn ust we could ha' towd which had won 
 an' which had lost ; becose one iid ha sheawted 
 like mad, an' th' tother ud ha lookt as blue 
 as a dyer's clog ; but neaw it ud puzzle a 
 pickpocket for t' tell which wur which, an' he'd 
 happen mak a blunder if he made a gex at it. 
 Theaw sees yon young felly under th' win- 
 dow — him wi' abeawt a yard o' ribbin to his 
 cap, an' his yure abeawt as straight as if it 
 had bin commd wi'a stoo-foowt." 
 
 " Ay, well, I see him," replied Dick, im- 
 patiently, 
 
 "Well," said Pothook, "theaw sees he's 
 as quiet as an owd sheep, an' favvers wonderin' 
 what he could spend th' last threehaAvpencte 
 on. Neaw I da'say that chaps mooar brass 
 in his pocket nor thy feyther has i'th' owd 
 stockin' — an' I know th' owd lad has a rare 
 hutch laid by, — for a' ut he looks so gawmless; 
 an' ten to one that SAvell ut sits next to him 
 wi' as mony rings on his fingers as ud' wed a' 
 Irkdale, un favvers he're gooin' to order bottles 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 IRKDALE. 
 
 o' wine for everybody, has nor as mich brass 
 on him as ud pay th' tow-bars for a walkin'- 
 stick." 
 
 " I should ha' takken him t' be quite a 
 gentleman, by th' looks on him," Dick re- 
 marked, alluding to the person last pointed 
 out. 
 
 " An' so no deawt he is," said Pothook, 
 " but at th' same time, one of a fast sort ; gets 
 money off his moather ut his feyther knows 
 nowt abeawt, an' spends it on a lot o' scamps 
 ut never did wortch for ther livin', and never 
 will. In a while his feyther'll happen ha't goo 
 a bein' white-wesht, an' that's road th' woald 
 goes on." 
 
 " It must be a queer woald then," ob- 
 Sbrved the other, forgetting his own affairs in 
 momentary wonder at the strange life his 
 companion seemed to be acquainted with. 
 
 " Queer ! It shads Guilliver ut thy feyther 
 ust read abeawt. Neaw, ther's that chap 
 theere," and Pothook pointed out a rather 
 stout individual, with a very red face and 
 heavy eyes, who was lazily mixing a tumbler of
 
 IRKDALE. 211 
 
 bran dy-and- water, "what would theaw tak 
 him to be ? " 
 
 " A butcher," Dick replied. 
 
 " Nay," said Pothook, " I'll bet thee a 
 guinea to a hay-seed ut theaw'U find no scrats 
 upo' his bonds. Ther as smoot as a meawdy- 
 wart, I'll peawnd thee." 
 
 " Well, what is he then ? " 
 
 "He's what they coen ^ plant''' said Pot- 
 hook, in a half-whisper. 
 
 '' k plant! What's that?" 
 
 " He goes abeawt runnin' foowt races, an' 
 talcs folk in."" 
 
 " Ilim a race -runner ! I shouldno ha' 
 thowt he could lift booath feet off th' greawnd 
 at onct." 
 
 " Nawe, that's just wheere it is. If theaw 
 wur t' see him crossin' th' street, theaw'd think 
 he couldno' get eawt o'th' road of a sond- 
 barrow ; but when he's a match on he melts 
 hissel deawn same as tliy moather does swine's 
 grease, till his cloas hang on him like mop 
 rags, an' he's as wrinklet abeawt th' shoothers 
 as an owd pair o' leather breeches. AVhen
 
 212 IRKDALE. 
 
 he's stript for t' run, folk woulclno' believe 
 he're tli' same mon, if it wiirno' for his yed 
 bein' flattent wi' tuppin' chimney-pieces for 
 quarts o' ale. Well, we'n say his backers 
 han gettn ther money on, an' happen he's a 
 two-thri yards start, through lookin' so un- 
 likely. When they set off he goes like a 
 greyheawned, an' knocks his mon eawt o' time 
 like owd boots, an' then th' tother side find it 
 eawt they'n bin sotvd, an' takken in as bad as 
 a yorney at an eawl-catchin'." 
 
 " But I should think," observed Dick, "ut 
 they'd be gettin' up to him, an' ut he'd ha' no 
 chance o' takkin' 'em in a second time." 
 
 " That's just wheere theaw'rt eawt on't," 
 replied Pothook, " an' shows theaw'd be 
 catcht o'th' blynt side in a snifter. He taks 
 care never to run hvice i' one place, an' 
 changes his name as oft as he runs ; but it's 
 a wonder he's sense to do, too ; for one time 
 he're dcawn i' Stafi'yshur, an' swaggerin' heaw 
 he could run, when some chaps, seein' ut he're 
 abeawt hawve rockt, made it up fort' have him 
 on th' stick a bit. They matcht him fort' run
 
 IRKDALE. 213 
 
 agen time, reawnd four lones ut went into one 
 another, an' made a sort of a cooarse. He 
 wur to go one time reawnd for ten shillin' and 
 a gallon o' ale, if he did it i' ten minits. Well, 
 he stript, an' off he went same as if he'd never 
 stop agen till he're made, an' as soon as he 
 geet eawt o'th' seet, th' chaps went an' hud 
 thersels at th' back of a hedge, an' waited for 
 ther mon comin'. E'enneaw, Hop-bag — that's 
 what they coen him — darts past, puffin' an' 
 blowin' like a steeam-hingun, an' starin' furrud 
 same as if he tliowt he should never be reawnd. 
 On he went, eawt o'th' seet agen, an' when he 
 coom reawnd the second time, th' chaps had 
 getten i'th' lone agen, just same as if they'd 
 never stirred fro' th' startin' place. Well, 
 they sed he' bin twenty minits i'th' race, an' 
 lost by a wide mark; so Hop -bag put his 
 clooas on, an' gan in ut he'd fairly lost ; an' 
 fro' that day to this he does no' know but 
 what roads i' S taffy shur are twice as lung as 
 they are here. He hadno' sense to find it 
 eawt ut he'd run twice reawnd i'sted o' onct ; 
 an it's believt ut if th' chaps had tarried at
 
 214 IRKDALE. 
 
 th' hack o' tli' hedge, or gone away a' toge- 
 ther, he'd ha' bhi runiiin' neaw. Well, th' 
 mon has plenty o' brass, as big a Icatlieryed as 
 he is ; so it isno' th' wisest o' folk ut makken 
 th' best eawi; i'th woald. Come, we'n just 
 have another gill, an' then we'n be treddhn' 
 toart whoam. Theaw'll be gooin' o'er by 
 Cheetham Hill, I reckon." 
 
 " Ay," replied the other, with an impatient 
 gesture, " but thcaw promist to tell me sum- 
 mut else — summut ut consarns me, as I under- 
 stood." 
 
 " Oh, ay, I did," replied Pothook, seeming 
 to recollect himself, but yet in no hurry to en- 
 gage in important disclosure. " Well, fro' 
 what I've towd thee a' ready, theaw munna be 
 surprist if theaw doesno' find folk are what 
 theaw took 'em to be. * Civil soos aten o'th' 
 draf,' as one's yerd it sed, an' folk ut carryn 
 very smoot faces han sometimes rough insides. 
 I know a thing or two, mon. Ther's folk ut 
 talk very leawdly abeawt others noa bein' as 
 they should be, ut are very pon-an'-kettlish 
 thersels. I've seen 'em throw deawn ther
 
 IRKDALE. 215 
 
 brass for bottles o' wine, an' get so bancly- 
 leggt they'n had t' be takken whoam like a 
 looad o' porritoes, an' that after stretchin' ther 
 face at a meetin' for t' see what they con do 
 toart reformin' poor folk. Neaw look at 
 Mesthur Herbert ; ther's nob'dy 'ud think 
 when they seen him at th' church ov a Sunday, 
 ut he'd as mich to do wi' th' oivd Lad as he 
 has. An' then ther's that skitterwit of a son 
 of his, as straight as a new pin he is when 
 he' awhoom, an' — " 
 
 " What, Alfred ? " 
 
 " Ay, Alfred. Theaw wouldno think to 
 look at him ut he's abeawt as wakken as a 
 weezle, an' has as mony wenches runnin' after 
 him as 'ud fill a fact'ry." 
 
 " Nawe," gasped Dick, a thousand jealous 
 fears flashing upon his mind, " but believe 
 ther's summut between him an' eawr Ade- 
 laide." 
 
 "That's just what I'm comin' to," said 
 Pothook, with the manner of one who was con- 
 fident of being right ; " I've had a tip abeawt 
 it, an' between thee an' me, I think hoo'd
 
 216 IRKDALE. 
 
 betther ha' followed her feyther to Ameriky 
 nor even ha' gone to Irkdale Church Skoo — 
 not ut I thmk ther's owt bad abeawt skooin', 
 but i' my mind lads an' wenches han no right 
 to go to th' same place. They gettn agate 
 o' lookin' one at another i'stid o' mindin' ther 
 books, an' it's wo-up with lasses when they 
 begin o' scentin' ther handkerchers, an' franiin' 
 therselves same as if ther'n aulus at a lookin'- 
 glass, I've bin surprist, Dick, ut theaw's had 
 no mooar gumption abeawt thee nor what 
 theaw's shown yet." 
 
 "Pothook," said Dick, looking thought- 
 fully at his friend, " I've aidus thowt other 
 folk wur betther nor mysel, an' never felt like 
 one ut a lass' ud care abeawt spakin' to ; an' 
 I've sometimes sit starin' at eawr Addy till 
 hoo's lookt as far off me as if I'd bin lookin' 
 through th' wrang eend of a telescope. I've 
 seen her sit sheawin' (sewing) o'th' ha'stone 
 of a neet till I felt as if hoo'd stitcht me fast 
 to th' stoo' ; an' I could as soon ha' lickt th' 
 eend of a red-wot foyer-potther as ha' spokken 
 to her owt consarnin' cooartin'."
 
 IRKDALE. 217 
 
 " Tlieaw'd rayther hoo'd lia' sed summut 
 to thee, I reckon." 
 
 " Well, it is not i' my natyer, I believe, for 
 t' do owt like other folk ; an' when I've seen 
 lads riinniu' deawn hedge-sides after ther bits 
 o' snickets, or pee-weetin' abeawt heawse- 
 eends, I've felt ut if they'd put a brass ^collar 
 reawnd my neck, an' crom me int' a dog- 
 kennel, an' say ' Sus ' when they wanted me 
 to come eawt, I should be abeawt as mich use 
 to th' woald as ever I should ha' bin lose. 
 Nawe, Pothook, I have no gumption abeawt 
 me. But wdiat dost' know partikilar abeawt 
 yung Herbert ? " 
 
 "Well, it's just here," said the other, 
 drawing an imaginary line upon the table, " I 
 see mooar on him than what I should if he're 
 gooin' upo' th' reet tack. He spends mooar 
 brass nor his w^ages come to, I know ; an' he's 
 a tidy screw. Heaw he gets howd on't is 
 another thing, an' happen it's what he coidd 
 hardly tell hissel'. I met him one neet, when 
 I're eawt wi' tripe an' sheep's heels, at a place 
 wheere they sell mooar dlirink by gasleet nor
 
 218 IRKDALE. 
 
 they dun i'tli daytime. He sit wi' a bottle o' 
 red ink afore him, an' a lot o' chaps helpin' him. 
 He begun o' cryin' like a neAvbyett'n chilt 
 when he see'd me, an' begj^cd like a cripple at 
 a gate ut I wouldno tell his feyther. That 
 wur abeawt th' start ; theaw sees. Well, 
 another time I met him i'th' same shop ; but 
 he didno' cry this time, but hoped I would no' 
 leet on to th' guvner. He're gettin' on then. 
 It wurno' mony weeks after afore I met him 
 agen, as merry, he wur, as a cricket, an' 
 gobblin' up oysters by barrowfulls, an knockin' 
 champaigne abeawt like srao' drink. Well, 
 i'sted on him bein' gloppent when he see'd me, 
 an beggin' on me fort' know nowt, he slapt me 
 on th' back, and coed me Owd Cockylorum, 
 an' axt me t' warm my nose o'er a noggin' o' 
 whisky punch. He'd getten hardent by this 
 time, theaw sees, like mony a one beside him 
 at's gone th' wrung road, an' happen ended 
 ther spree wheere they sleep upo' wooden 
 fithers. If ther isno' a screw lose theere afore 
 lung, it'll cap my rags." 
 
 " Poor Addy ! " exclaimed Dick, in a
 
 IRKDALE. 219 
 
 melancholy tone. " If owt happens her my 
 feyther '11 goo beside hissel. But I conno' yet 
 think so badly o' young Herbert. He comes 
 wi' sich a nice smile on his face when he meets 
 one, — ^just for a'th' world like Adelaide hersel, 
 — ut I couldno help thinkin' to-day they fav- 
 vert bein' made for one another." 
 
 "That's wheere th' danger lies," said Pot- 
 hook ; " if he'd bin as ragged an' hard favvert 
 as me, theaw met ha' gone to bed wi' a yessy 
 crop. But I never knew mony nice yung 
 chaps — specially if they'd a bit o' brass — but 
 what had ther yed a bit turnt, an' ne'er gan 
 sich like as thee an' me a chance o' havin' a 
 dacent wench for a wife." 
 
 " Well, theaw knows mooar abeawt these 
 things nor I do," said Dick, mournfully. 
 " I'm nobbut a poot yet, an' happen a bit 
 gawmless. I dunno know heaw it is, but o' 
 someheaw I feel just neaw ut if Alfred 'ud wed 
 Adelaide straight forrud, an' mak her as good 
 a husband as hoo desarves ; an' if they'd lemmi 
 goo to ther heawse neaw an' agen, an' be a 
 brother to her, — penklin' abeawt th' heawse
 
 220 IRKDALE. 
 
 an' til' garden, and doin' bits o' jobs for 'em, 
 so as I sliouldno be far off her, — I could be 
 content for t' live just as I am till me yed wur 
 as white as a moss-crop ; an' if hoo'd just hap 
 th' clooas to my back when I're deein', I could 
 shutter eawt o'th' w^oald as yessily as gooin' to 
 sleep after a hay-makkin', an' be as if I never 
 had bin at a'." 
 
 Our young friend, after thus delivering 
 himself, threw his head upon the table, and 
 burying his face in his cap, gave way to a 
 quiet flood of tears. His companion, observ- 
 ing this, shook him by the shoulder, and 
 sturdily remonstrated with him for exhibiting 
 his weakness before people. 
 
 " Come, Dick," he said, " this is no place 
 for thee to ring thy dish-cleawt in. Mop up, 
 an' let's be gooin'. Look heaw folk are starin' 
 at thee. Ther's mooar nor one wench i'th' 
 country." 
 
 The young man raised his head, wiped his 
 eyes with the lining of his cap, and said — 
 " Pothook, I wonder if they'd ha' me for a 
 sodier ? '* v
 
 IRKDALE. 221 
 
 " A sodier behanged, theaw'rt too good t' 
 be shot at yet. I reckon mysel hardly ripe 
 for peawther, an' I'm Hke a dried apple-cork 
 at th' side o' thee. Never talk abeawt sodierin' 
 till theaw loses thy wits, an' then it '11 matter 
 nowt. I'll tell thee what to do : — if theaw 
 happens to come to th' teawn anytime soon, 
 just CO at my wareheawse, an' I'se happen be 
 able to tell thee snmmut mooar." 
 
 " Wheere is thy warelteawse ? " inquired 
 the other, with the faintest smile upon his 
 face. 
 
 " Number forty-one an' a hawve A. 
 
 street, no floor at a', but deawn some steps into 
 a place ut keeps what I sell cool an' sweet. 
 It's rayther dark inside, but theaw's no 'casion 
 to be fecart o' brakin' thy shins agen th' 
 furnitur, as I've lent a good deal on't eawt to 
 my neighbours. If t' conno' find th' place, 
 just go i' Tummnses-strcet, an' ax th' fust two 
 theaw meets stondin' t'gether wheere th' 
 Transcendental Tripe an' Trotter Warehouse 
 is, an they'n tell thee." 
 
 " I think I con find it," said Dick, and the
 
 222 IRKDALE. 
 
 two rose from their seats, then shaking hands 
 warmly at the door, and promising such 
 renewals of acquaintance as implied frequent 
 meetings at the "warehouse," departed each 
 their w^ay homeward.
 
 223 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Grange had never before been visited 
 by so terrible an apparition as the one pre- 
 sented to the ladies whom we left on the 
 stairs two chapters ago. Had it not been for 
 his clothes, and the peculiar cut of his beard, 
 no one would have recognized in the visitor 
 the owner of the mansion, such was the 
 change that had come over him. He had 
 been an easy, dashing, sprightly man in his 
 time, with a strong nerve and a cool, deter- 
 mined manner — steady at a purpose, and un- 
 flinching in an extremit}^ He rarely took 
 wine before supper-time, and then only in 
 quantities that never interfered with his daily 
 avocations ; consequently, he went about his 
 " business " with the mechanical exactitude of 
 a bill-broker, and was equally punctilious over 
 his engagements. He had a ready smile and
 
 224 IRKDALE. 
 
 winning address, which, with the suavity of 
 his general behaviour, made friends of people 
 who disliked his profession. But the Mr 
 Herbert of the present chapter was another 
 being. One day's debauch seemed to have 
 brought ori the infirmities of years, and be 
 stood before his wife the wreck of a man. 
 His eyes were red, piercing, and restless, and 
 his body shook betimes as if with convulsions. 
 There was not a line of his featm-es that had 
 not fiend written in it ; and as he threw his 
 wild glances about, resting at last upon a 
 mirror — the reflected image from which made 
 him recoil as if from a spectre — he uttered a 
 groan so agonizing that the ladies shrank from 
 his presence in the utmost terror. 
 
 It was a scene not to be forgotten. 
 Drunkenness, such as nothing but liquid fire 
 fermented by juices infernal might have pro- 
 duced, was consuming him, — burning up his 
 vitals as with a scorching flame. For a mo- 
 ment he stood erect, but shaking like a tower 
 that is being undermined and about to fall. 
 It was the struggle of strong manhood fight-
 
 IRKDALE. 225 
 
 ing against sudden dissolution. The last 
 foundation-stone bad not yet been removed, 
 but the fabric was tottering ; the spoiler had 
 grasped him, though the fangs were not yet 
 upon his heart. Fearfid was the oath that 
 trembled on his lips, though yet unspoken, 
 as if Heaven had lent one drop of mercy to 
 save his soul from utter perdition. A sun- 
 beam, shot from an opening cloud, hung upon 
 his face a moment ; his eyes closed upon it, 
 then reeling round as if hurled by an invisi- 
 ble power, he fell prostrate on the stair, utter- 
 ing that terrible word " beggar ! " — the key 
 to that day's mystery. 
 
 The face which but an hour ao-o srlowed 
 with russet crimson, as if health held high 
 revel there, was now pale as a block of 
 marble ; the lips were rigid, the hands 
 clenched, and but for the intermittent tremor 
 which shot through every limb, no one would 
 have supposed him to have been still living. 
 
 It was as our friend Dick Robinson sur- 
 mised. Mr Herbert had lost heavily on the 
 race — so heavily, indeed, that his whole estate
 
 226 IRKDALE. 
 
 would not cover his liabilities. lie had betted 
 on the non-appearance of " Heme " at the 
 time of starting. The misconstruction of a 
 private telegram, which was read off " i\Iid- 
 dlesbro' " instead of " Middlcton," seemed to 
 place the " favourite " at such a distance from 
 Manchester on the morning of the race, that 
 it would have required almost lightning speed 
 to bring him up in time for running. The 
 " blackleg " had thus fallen into a trap which 
 he would at any time have set for his dearest 
 friend, had his ingenuity been capable of 
 devising such a trick, and the consequence- 
 was as is here related. Let us leave this 
 wreck for a time, 
 
 * -:;:- * * 
 
 The sun is already on high ; but his rays 
 pierce not the thick curtains which fold darkly 
 over a window looking eastward from the 
 Grange. In the room is the solemnity of 
 death; the dim light scarcely reveahng the 
 ghostlike shadow of a female form as it silently 
 moves to and fro. Not a sound breaks the 
 stillness, save now and then a suppressed
 
 IRKDALE. 227 
 
 groan, and the faint murmuring of lips that 
 burn with thirst. Upon the bed is stretched, 
 or huddled, a being that neither sleeps nor 
 wakes, yet is not dead, dead as we record it 
 in our mortality returnsj but dead to hope, and 
 love, and the purer delights of life ; dead to 
 honour, shame, and the nobler virtues that 
 make man great and good and happy. 
 
 Death itself has fewer terrors than the 
 sleep of madness. The fitful starting from 
 some horrid dream, and the aAvaking to a 
 reality scarcely less terrible : to be uncon- 
 scious of that which is passing around, yet 
 having a vivid memory of the past, out of 
 which come stalking deeds long buried, taunt- 
 ing us with their presence. What can the 
 sleep of the tomb be to this purgatory before 
 death? 
 
 Mr Herbert had lain in an unconscious 
 state during the night, and notwithstanding 
 that medical aid promptly arrived, it was long 
 doubtful whether he would survive the shock 
 his system had received. In the morning the 
 faintest symptoms of a return of consciousness
 
 228 IRKDALE. 
 
 were observed; but his mind still rambled 
 about old things and old associations ; and he 
 muttered incoherencies that seemed to have 
 some deep meaning hidden beyond them ; and 
 he would pronounce names that made the lady 
 start, as if the dead had risen from their graves 
 and suddenly appeared before her. 
 
 " I saw him yesterday," he said ; " I am 
 sure it was he — alive and well, too. Hasn't 
 he been here ? " 
 
 "Who, Charles, who ? " 
 
 " Nobody. Where am I ? where — where ? 
 Who are you? " 
 
 " Your wife." 
 
 " No ; no — water ! — let me drink ! What 
 was that noise ? " 
 
 "The school children — I promised them 
 buns and milk on the lawn to-day, and forgot 
 to send word that you were unwell. I must 
 tell them you can't bear a noise." 
 
 " Don't, don't ! Let them sing, laugh, 
 shout, romp; it will drive some of these 
 things away that crowd so about me. - Is 
 Alfred with them ? "
 
 IRKDALE. 229 
 
 " He is. I durst not let him know of your 
 misfortunes." 
 
 " Good boy ; good boy ! He will be what 
 his father ought to have been. Had his 
 mother hved, I might have been a better 
 man." 
 
 " Have I not been kind to you, Charles, 
 that you shoidd say so ? " 
 
 " Oh, it isn't that ; it isn't that. It is 
 something else. Were the dice loaded I 
 threw with last ? " 
 
 "My dear, you have thrown no dice. 
 You've been dreaming." 
 
 " It was for a ring, a diamond ring. Was 
 it not ? Yes, that was the stake." 
 
 The lady gave a start. 
 
 " It was hellish play that ; and I won 
 more than the ring ; I won an eternal 
 curse." 
 
 "The ring! What ring?" 
 
 " That, — there, — on that villain's finger 
 in the picture." 
 
 Just then the voices that had been heard 
 on the lawn burst forth with the hymn —
 
 230 IRKDALE. 
 
 My God, the spring of all my joys, 
 
 The life of my delights ; 
 The glory of my brightest days, 
 
 And comfort of my nights ; 
 
 In darkest shades, if thou appear, 
 
 My dawning is begun ; 
 Thou art my soul's bright morning star, 
 
 And thou my rising sun. 
 
 Sweetly the hymn rose and swelled over 
 the ^•allcy, now sung by a few infant voices, 
 and anon by the united choii' ; and as their 
 tones were wafted in currents of harmony to 
 the sick chamber, their influence was as balm 
 to the troubled conscience. 
 
 " If my life is not now to close," said ^Ir 
 Herbert, in a lucid moment, "I should like 
 to live the rest as a child." 
 
 He was fast sinking into childhood then. 
 The blow, if it had not killed, had laid him 
 prostrate for ever. As Charles Herbert, Esq., 
 gamester, spendthrift, — more, if 1 thought 
 proper to name it, — he was never to be 
 known again. 
 
 As the hymn progressed, the wretched 
 man calmly closed his eyes; some of his
 
 IRKDALE. 231 
 
 wonted colour returned to his cheek ; his 
 hands ceased to grasp at unseen objects, but 
 were folded over his breast ; the slight mo- 
 tion of his lips bore the utterances of prayer, 
 and sleep — the sleep of peace, brief though 
 it might be — fell upon him. 
 
 Sunday morning came, and found the 
 lady still watching by the side of her patient. 
 No carriage passed that day through Irkdale. 
 There was wondering amongst the congrega- 
 tion at church, and Jacob Robinson looked 
 in vain over his garden gate for the appear- 
 ance of the well-known horses that at the 
 usual hour swept so majestically round the 
 garden . 
 
 " Strange," thought Jacob, as he waited 
 long after the bells had ceased ringing. 
 " I never misst 'em afore," he said ; " an' at 
 a time, too, ut above any other I wanted t' see 
 'em. Ther's summut up, mun be." 
 
 The doings at the Grange were not long 
 a secret. The betting circle was the wrong
 
 232 IRKDALE. 
 
 place to favour its keeping, and the sen'ants 
 at the mansion were only ordinary mortals, 
 and, as a matter of course, prone to gossip- 
 ing. No wonder, then, that ere Sabbath 
 evening closed it was told in every house in 
 Irkdale that Mr Herbert was a ruined man ; 
 that he had made betting engagements which 
 he could not meet, and his credit was of no 
 value at our local " Tattersal's." His mind, 
 it was rumoured, unable to withstand the 
 crash, had given way ; and it was even 
 asserted that an order had been received 
 for his immediate removal to a private 
 asvlum.
 
 233 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Monday after Whit-week is generally a 
 loose day with the operative classes of South 
 Lancashire. Neither the loom, nor the lathe, 
 nor the anvil are so attractive as to induce 
 in those whose business it is to attend to them 
 a desire to thoroughly relinquish the pursuit 
 of pastime. Somehow the bellows sound 
 wheezy and asthmatical; the turning-tool 
 requires more sharpening than usual, and 
 the loom-gearing seems to work in a slattern- 
 ly, reluctant manner, as if it required, at 
 least, another day's rest. 
 
 In out-of-the-way villages like Irkdale 
 the youth during daytime have recourse to 
 marbles, or jumping, as being of a class of 
 amusements that are the most familiarly 
 associated with their ordinary work-a-day 
 Hfe, and, as a consequence, tending to drive
 
 234 IRKDALE. 
 
 xiway any lingering remnants of holiday 
 feeling. Those Avho have advanced beyond 
 the first steps of love-making find other 
 occupations more to their taste. These will 
 probably be found disturbing washing ar- 
 rangements, or interfering with the necessary 
 vocations of the needle, by tricks played upon 
 clothes-lines, or " peggy tubs," and sly pilfer- 
 ings of thread and linen. These annoyances 
 (if such they can be called) lead, as they are 
 intended, to assignations and covert inter- 
 vicAvs at places so far removed from paternal 
 surveillance as to necessitate half-an-hour or 
 an hour's walk down some quiet path — 
 generally the most secluded and love-in- 
 viting. 
 
 " Joe-at-Clinker's," the smith's apprentice, 
 a youth whose beard had not yet aspired to 
 to an acquaintanceship with the razor, had 
 made successful overtures to a neighbour lass ; 
 and few in Irkdale were prettier than " Mally- 
 o'Jammie's," — daughter of the gardener at 
 the " Grange." 
 
 It happened this way :
 
 IRKDALE. 235 
 
 Joe was in love before he quite knew it ; 
 and courted with looks every time he chanced 
 to meet IMall}^, until his ears began to be 
 uncomfortably hot, and his face so tell-tale 
 red, that, had he said nothing to the girl, she 
 must have known what had caused all this 
 confusion. It was a wonder " Clinker " had 
 not discovered what was amiss with the youth 
 long before he was told, for there were occa- 
 sions in which the latter's "striking" was 
 very inexpert, as his master's hand could 
 testify ; but these would be when he happen- 
 ed to catch a glimpse of a certain headker- 
 chief fluttering past the smithy window, or 
 heard the merrv rino; of a voice that for the 
 moment took a deal of the streno;th out of his 
 sinews. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this shyness, Joe 
 found himself at last compelled to say some- 
 thing. It was Monday after Whit-week ; 
 Clinker was at the "Jolly Jumper," whence 
 nothing short of a conflagration could have 
 driven him, consequently there was no one 
 to attend to such jobs as might be brought to
 
 23G IRKDALE. 
 
 the smithy, — if we except the apprentice, and 
 he felt rather disposed to hoHday- making 
 himself. 
 
 " Mally-o'-Jamraie's," who was a weaver, 
 and wove upon a " jacquard " loom, had the 
 misfortune to break one of the irons of her 
 " lifter ;" and as her father was down at the 
 Grange, following his own work, she was 
 placed mider the necessity of going to the 
 smithy herself to get the article repaired. 
 
 Joe was lounging upon the bench, hardly 
 decided whether to lay the fire or strip his 
 apron, when Mally presented herself at the 
 smithy door, and timidly inquired if there was 
 " nob'dy in." 
 
 "Nawe," Joe replied, as if ignoring his 
 own presence, or forgetting that he was 
 " somebody^ " What dost want ? " he in- 
 quired, the old tell-tale flushing into his 
 checks, and a desire to sink himself into no- 
 thing coming over him. 
 
 " Well," replied the girl, producing the 
 broken "lifter," and blushing in turn, — "I 
 broke this hoj/rn as soon as I started o' wayvin'
 
 IRKDALE. 237 
 
 this niorniiig, an' I want it piecin, for I donno 
 like til' thowts o' having to play a' day. Con 
 themv do it ? " 
 
 Joe took hold of the broken " lifter," and 
 after examining it a much longer time than 
 either the nature of the fracture or the pro- 
 cess of repairing it required, said — 
 
 " I con happen do it, Mally ; at any rate, 
 I'll try. Wilt — ^wilt (what was he going to 
 say ?) — wilt Mow for me ? " 
 
 " Eh, Joe, I conno' blow. Heaw could I ?" 
 
 " It's yessier than treadin' a jacquard 
 treddle, if theaw could hraJce this" replied the 
 enamoured smith, gaining confidence as he 
 spoke. " I'll just show thee heaw." 
 
 The process of laying the fire required but 
 a very short period of time, and Joe set about 
 it with the most commendable alacrity. 
 
 Directly a small Vesuvius was sending a 
 shower of sparks all over the fireplace; tli(^ 
 blaze roared in the chimney, and lent such a 
 glow to Mally's face as she stood by, that her 
 lover thought for the moment sunshine was a 
 fool to it.
 
 238 IRKDALE. 
 
 " Neaw then," said Joe, relinquishing his 
 hold of the lever by which the bellows was 
 w^orked, " get howd o' this hondle, an' do as 
 I did, an' I'll piece thy hoyrn afore theaw 
 knows wheer theaw art." 
 
 Whether it was the action of the bellows 
 or the heat of the fire, or both combined, that 
 had operated on Joe's courage, it would be 
 mere guessing to say; but the youth had 
 grown so bold all at once, that he was within 
 " two pins," to use his own expression, of 
 taking hold of JMally instead of the iron 
 that was now fast approaching to a white 
 heat. 
 
 The girl handled the lever like a " good 
 un," Joe thought, and so engaged was he in 
 admiring the dimples in her arms as they went 
 up and down with the motion of the bellows, 
 and now and then catching a glance from a 
 pair of eyes whose expression gave encourage- 
 ment to further acquaintance, that it is no 
 Avonder he forgot both himself and the iron, 
 and thought of nothing but ^lally. 
 
 " AVinnot it do, Joe ? " inquired the girl,
 
 IRKDALE. 239 
 
 somewhat tired of her novel occupation, " I'm 
 sure it's red enough." 
 
 " Do, behanged ! " exclaimed the smith, 
 getting more bold and desperate; "let it 
 swither away like matchwood, an' I'll mak' 
 thee a new un. Heigh, owd wench ! I'll have 
 a buss neaw if th' smithy tumbles," and the 
 next moment his arms were clasped round 
 Mally's waist with a tightness that could be 
 compared to nothing so much as the grip of a 
 vice. 
 
 Mally would have screamed, only it was 
 dayhght, and the arms were Joe's, and he had 
 promised to make her a new^ iron; so she 
 thought better of the proceeding, and so far 
 yielded herself up to her lover's embraces that 
 the sparks had ceased to fly about the fire- 
 place, and the blaze had let down its music to 
 something like very faint sighing. 
 
 " Joe, behave thysel," was the only ex- 
 pression in the shape of remonstrance by 
 which the smith's amorous advances were met. 
 
 " I will when I'm eawt o' wynt," said Joe, 
 knocking his head about the lever in his
 
 240 IRKDALE. 
 
 eagerness to have more kisses than he had 
 asked for. " I've bin longin' for a chance o' 
 this sort mony a while, an' neaw it's thee, 
 Mally, an' no surrender." 
 
 " Theaw wouldno ha' done so, Joe, if 
 CHnker had been in." 
 
 " Nawe, I donno think I should. He'd 
 ha' gan me a cleawt i'th' earhole if I'd aust. 
 But neaw, Mally, if theaw'll ha' me, I'll ha' 
 thee ; an' we'n cooart six neets a week an' 
 twice o' Sundays. What sesta ? " 
 
 "Theawrt i' sich a hurry. Lemmi get 
 my wynt. What would folk say if they sce'd 
 us?" 
 
 " Let 'em say what they'n a mind. They'n 
 do that chus heaw 'tis." 
 
 " AVcll, but I wouldno' ha' nob'dy to talk 
 abeawt me." 
 
 " Then say th' word an' ha' done wi' it." 
 
 " Lemmi goo, Joe ; do neaw, if theaw 
 pleeases." 
 
 " Say th' word, an' then." 
 
 "Well, ill word; will that satisfy 
 thee?"
 
 IRKDALE. 241 
 
 " Stop a bit ; wilt have a walk t'neet as 
 far as tli' AVoodlands ? " and Joe relaxed, but 
 not quite relinquished, his hold of Mall}^ 
 
 " Eh, heaw cont' think it ? " was the re- 
 ply, but it was given in such a manner that 
 Joe could " think it," and feel certain, also, 
 that the proposal was not very strongly ob- 
 jected to. 
 
 " Ther'll be plenty moore lads an' wenches 
 gooin' that road ; so we shanno' be by ussel," 
 said the latter, with determined perseverance 
 in his manner, 
 
 " But my moather '11 be cross if hoo gets 
 t' yer ut I've gone eawt wi' thee," said the 
 girl, looking down. She meant to go all the 
 time, of course. 
 
 " Never mind ; if hoo sauces thee tell her 
 I'm ready to tak' thee off her honds any day ; 
 for I'se be eawt o' my time in a week or two, 
 an' then th' mesthur '11 give up th' smithy to 
 me, an' I'll w^ork like a steeam injun, an' 
 theaw'st have as fine a heawse an' everythin' 
 else as anybody i'th' Hollow; neaw then," 
 and Joe again tightened his hug, and took an- 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 IRKDALE. 
 
 other kiss — this time without the shghtest 
 resistance on Mally's part. 
 
 What girl coukl withstand such induce- 
 ments as the smith hekl out, especially when 
 the evenings were so lovely, and the hawthorn 
 was in blossom, and the walks so pretty, as 
 they were about the Woodlands ? Beside, 
 Joe was a " nice lad," when his face was not 
 begrimed with " smithy smudge ; " and he 
 would be washed as clean as a " new pin ; '* 
 and he would wear the blue and gold necker- 
 chief which she had so often admired ; and he 
 Avould pass his arm tenderly round her, as 
 they crept down by fragrant hedge-rows, and 
 lingered about old queer styles. What a 
 transport that would give ! It was not hke 
 being in a smithy with all that ugly iron 
 about them. 
 
 " Eh, Joe ; theaw'rt a reet un ! " 
 
 " Theaw'll goo, then, wilta ? " 
 
 "Ay, get my lifter pieced, an' Icnuui be 
 gettin' to my loom, — an' then — ," yes, and 
 then. 
 
 Puff went the bellows again ; up flew the
 
 IRKDALE. 243 
 
 sparks ; merrily the blaze gambolled in the 
 chimney, and merrily Joe set to work upon 
 the lifter. The anvil rung as it had never 
 rung before — not in Mally's ears. And happy 
 love- scenes, and pictures of bright hearths — 
 made brighter by kind words and cheerful 
 smiles — seemed to dwell in the flashes of light 
 that at each stroke of the hammer pervaded 
 every nook and cranny of that old dingy 
 building. 
 
 How Joe could wield the hammer ! always 
 making it fall to within a hair's breadth of the 
 proper place; sometimes bringing it down 
 with a force that seemed, in Mally's eyes, to 
 make the iron wince ; then gradually temper- 
 ing down the blows until they sounded like 
 the hght tapping which love gives to a true 
 heart ! There were none truer than thine, 
 MaUy ! 
 
 The broken " lifter " was repaired at last ; 
 a " spick-an'-span " new iron replacing the 
 damaged one, and now nothing was required 
 only the payment of the bill. 
 
 " Heaw mich will it be ? " asked the girl,
 
 244 IRKDALE. 
 
 putting her hand into her pocket, and causing 
 a jingle amongst half-pence, thimbles, " pin- 
 poppets," and the like. 
 
 " What dost meean ? " 
 
 " Heaw mich shall I ha' to pay ? " 
 
 " Dunno ax me, Mally. I'm o'erpaid 
 neaw, an' I meean to be furr i' thy debt afore 
 lung. Tak' thy hfter, an' welcome ; — obbut, 
 I wish it 'ud brake agen as soon as theaw 
 starts o' wayvin'." 
 
 "What for, Joe?" 
 
 " So as theaw could come an' bloiv for me 
 agen." 
 
 " Get off wi' thee ; — theawrt never satis- 
 fied," and Mally, after receiving a charge not 
 to forget the assignation at the Woodlands, 
 and giving a promise that she would not, 
 turned and left the smithy. 
 
 Joe's eyes followed the girl down the lane 
 with further longing. — " Clogs an' white 
 stockin's," he said to himself; " an' sich little 
 clogs, too, an stockin's ut lookin' as smoot an' 
 as cleean as a new 'baccapipe afore it's bin 
 hondlet by owd Dirty Thumbs. If I've ov.t
 
 IRKDALE. 245 
 
 any moore to do wi' wark this day, it'll ha' to 
 tumble o'tli' top o' me ; so neaw for it ! " and 
 Joe stripped his apron in a twinkling, then 
 flinging it up amongst the rafters, as if in 
 triumph, commenced a series of such " mar- 
 locks " as he was never known to indulge in 
 before. He whistled, sang, danced, placed 
 his head on the anvil, and tried to send his 
 heels in the direction the apron had gone, 
 but, failing in the experiment, came down in 
 an unexpected manner, wdiich took a little of 
 the steam out of him. 
 
 "There, that'll do," he said; "myyed's 
 noane flat enough for a job o' that sort ; so I 
 mind no moore on't. I wish it wur Avelly 
 dark, an' T're peearchin' on a rail up at th' 
 Woodlands, — swingin' my clogs like two clock 
 pendilums ut are w^aggin' a match ; an' Mally 
 just creepin' up to me wi' a face as breet as a 
 new polished cage knob. I could jump eawt 
 o' my skin like a cork eawt of a pop-bottle 
 when th' bant's cut; that I coidd." And 
 he sang whilst he shovelled the blackening 
 ashes aside —
 
 246 IRKDALE. 
 
 Ther' wur a coach stopt wi' its wheels turnlu' reawnd, 
 Gooin' up Dukinfilt broo — comin' deawn ; 
 
 An' pigs ut had vrings they wur frisky ; 
 A tinker wur drawin' an owd midge's tooth, 
 Becose it ud bitten his toppin', forsooth ; 
 
 An' hens ut gan milk they wur cakin ; 
 
 An' donkies wur brewin' an bakin' ; 
 Then eh what a do upo' Dukinfilt broo — 
 
 "When teetotallers get drunken wi' whisky. 
 
 Evening came at last, after seeming to put 
 off its advent a long, long time, too long for 
 lovers ; and it was just such an evening as 
 painters love to introduce into a picture of 
 rural courtship. The " gloaming " descended 
 with an imperceptible creeping of its wingless 
 shadow, and the blue of mid-heaven grew 
 more intense as the golden fan which received 
 the blush of sunset closed its folds over the 
 sinking glory. The grass, just springing into 
 manhood, Avas setting its coronal of liquid 
 gems, as if emulous of the brightness which 
 Hesperus was already flinging from his brow; 
 and the slow marshalling of the stars as they 
 fell into the train of night, spread a softened 
 splendour over the sky, like the presence of 
 that chaste form of beauty which strikes not
 
 IRKDALE. 247 
 
 the sense with wonder, but lingers a living 
 rapture in the memory. Now a solitary 
 thrush would " start into voice a moment," 
 piping forth faint snatches of song that die 
 into whispers at last, reminding us of that 
 mysterious harmony our fancy hears when 
 listening to childhood's slumber breathing. 
 
 But all was not peace, nor that which 
 sounds of peace, in those pleasant meadows 
 close by the " Woodlands." There was petty 
 warfare being carried on amongst " canary 
 buzzerts " * and " bit-bats," boys pursuing 
 with stripped jackets and pinafores, roaring 
 lustily over the chase. A faint hum, not 
 unmingled with fits of shrill laughter, came 
 up from the near village of Lower Crumpsall, 
 and other sounds belonging to jocund life, 
 awoke the echoes at intervals. There Avas a 
 restless movement amongst the trees, in whose 
 branches a colony of rooks had spread their 
 mattresses ; perhaps occasioned by some late 
 comers-in putting on their night -caps, or 
 
 * A kind of yellow moth tliat flies at eveuiDg.
 
 248 
 
 IllKDALE. 
 
 others hopping from their paternal twigs to 
 spend a night in wooing. 
 
 Ears were hsteuing to these latter noises, 
 as if seeking to beguile an anxious horn*, 
 when other and more welcome sounds were 
 expected to make themselves audible. Joe- 
 at-Clinker's was at the " trysting " spot, wait- 
 ing for Mally-o'-Jammies to make her appear- 
 ance. The workhouse clock had ning the 
 appointed hour, and already several couples 
 had passed the stile against which he leaned. 
 Mally could not be long, surely ; and Joe's 
 heart turned on steam as the anxious mo- 
 ments came and went. 
 
 Presently a light pattering sound broke 
 through the distance, and grew more distinct 
 as it approached. There was no mistaking 
 what the sound proceeded from, for just such 
 a form as Joe thought could not be found 
 any>vhero out of " Irkdale " presented itself 
 at the bend of the footpath, and in another 
 minute the rooks might have heard, had they 
 cared to listen, the salutes which were ex- 
 changed between the happy pair.
 
 IRKDALE. 240 
 
 " Eb, Mally ! " 
 
 "Eh, Joe!" 
 
 " I're gettiii' fceart theaw wurno' for 
 comiii', o^Yd crayther," said the latter, as he 
 seized hold of his prize and administered a 
 hug. " Th' warkhouse clock has stricken lung 
 sin'." 
 
 " It struck just as I're comin' past, that's 
 aV said Mally, in defence, — if any defence 
 were needed. 
 
 " Well, but it looks an heawr sin'," Joe 
 declared, getting his face in tempting prox- 
 imity to Mally's. " What nice ]iai7' oil theaw's 
 gettn. It smells like a whul garden full o' 
 phiks an' Avallfieawers. AVheere dost buy it 
 at?" 
 
 " At owd — " but before Mally could pro- 
 ceed further, her utterance was checked by a 
 little diversion that Joe was performing in- 
 side her bonnet— "at owd Dirty Thumbs," 
 she said, finishing the sentence with a gasp. 
 " Sink thee, Joe, be quiet ! " 
 
 " Whoa could be quiet wi' sich a armful 
 as this ? " said Joe, seeming puzzled for the
 
 250 IRKDALE. 
 
 moment as to what kind of a demonstration 
 he shonld make next to show how sincere 
 and heartfelt was his passion. " Eh, I do 
 like thee, j\Ially ! " This he said after a 
 protracted gaze at the countenance that 
 Avas, indeed, " as breet as a new-polished cage 
 knob." 
 
 " Doesta, lad, gradely?" said the girl; 
 and the rosiest tints of sunset seemed to be 
 reproduced in her face as she looked up into 
 the doting eyes of her lover. 
 
 "Ay, I do. I could ate thee just meet 
 neaw like a hawpo'th o' sallet to a new mouffin 
 buttercake ; that 1 could." 
 
 " But tlieaw'd want me agen, Joe, would't 
 no?" 
 
 " Want thee ! I should want thee a theaw- 
 sunt times o'er ! Wilt ha' this bit o' liague- 
 blossom ? I geet it eawt o'th' hedge wheer I 
 seed thee lay in' th' clooas eawt th' tot her 
 day," and Joe produced a bunch of hawthorn- 
 blossom of a delio-htful fragrance, and offered 
 it to Mally. 
 
 " It's sweet," observed the girl, as she
 
 IRKDALE. 251 
 
 sniffed the perfume of the blossom ; " An' it's 
 th' fust gift ever theaw gan me." 
 
 "Nay," exclaimed the youth, placing his 
 hand upon his heart, — " ther's summat here 
 'ats bin thine mony a lung while ; an' if ever 
 I want it back, I'll have it chopped into spoon- 
 mayte." This he said with a fervour that 
 caused Mally's bosom to heave in response; 
 and the two experienced a moment of rapture 
 that was quite bewildering. 
 
 Voices were now heard in the immediate 
 distance. One was a merry, laughing voice, 
 but the other w^as scarcely audible ; and as 
 Joe looked down the footpath to see whence 
 the sound came, he felt no little displeasure 
 at what he regarded as an intrusion. 
 
 The parties were now so near that the 
 smith could easily distinguish the merry voice 
 to be that of a woman, though it had some- 
 what of a masculine tone about it. 
 
 The lady walked a few paces in advance 
 of her companion, and the two were now so 
 near the stile that their conversation could be 
 heard by the other couple.
 
 252 IRKDALE. 
 
 *' Say no more, Alfred," entreated the 
 lady, who was a " fast" looking person, " fair, 
 fat," but nnder " forty," and who had an easy 
 swagger in her gait that had evidently not 
 been acquired in the drawing-room ; " it is all 
 nonsense, you know. Indeed, I don't believe 
 a word you say." 
 
 '■ But, Miss Dashwood ." 
 
 "It is not possible, little as I am able to 
 judge," interrupted the lady, " that you, who 
 have been playing at Paul and Virginia with 
 this girl, — this Miss what-d'ye-call-her — can 
 be so deeply in love with another as you 
 would have me believe." 
 
 " Is there not, then, anything I could say 
 that would induce you to have faith in my 
 professions ? " 
 
 " No ; nor anything you could do. Say 
 that you have a little friendly regard for me, 
 and I'll compound with you. I, who have 
 never known what real love was, care not for 
 a large estate of that kind of property. Bring 
 me all you have to spare, and I'll accept it as 
 full payment. I can't say more."
 
 IRKDALE. 253 
 
 " You don't believe, then, I can so soon 
 forget Miss Wilson." 
 
 "I don't." 
 
 *' You feel confident." 
 
 " Poz." 
 
 By this time the intruding party had 
 passed the stile, without appearing to notice 
 the two whose amours they had so unseason- 
 ably interrupted, and they were now getting 
 out of hearing. 
 
 The smith raised his cap in astonishment 
 at what he had seen and heard ; then turning 
 to his sweetheart with a look of wonder, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " By my gronmoather's wheel-yed ! if yon 
 isno' Alfred Herbert. Well, I'll be con- 
 sarned! " 
 
 " Ay, an' whoa's that young woman ut's 
 with him? " asked Mally, with as much sur- 
 prise in her manner as Joe had expressed. 
 " It isno' Adelaide Wilson, I'm sure." 
 
 "Nawe, — is it hecky as like! " said Joe. 
 " Yon wench has moore bant abcawt her nor 
 Adelaide Wilson. AVell, ther's no tellin' whoa
 
 254 IRKDALE. 
 
 cooarts whoa. If Adelaide gets to yer o' 
 this it'll brake her heart in't a theawsuiit 
 pieces." 
 
 *' Well, but, Joe, — dost raly think ut 
 Alfred is cooartin' yon woman ? " 
 
 " AVhat does it favvur ? He's tellin' her 
 he likes her, as fast as race-ninnin', an' I'm 
 sure he's towd Adelaide th' same." 
 
 " Well, but t/icmu wouldno do so, would 
 ta, Joe ? " 
 
 " Nawe ; I'd ate my yed, an' have it powd 
 o' purpose, th' fust," and Joe actually looked 
 as if he was about to attempt such an im- 
 possible feat in gastronomy. 
 
 "Eh, come, Joe, — let's be gooin' toart 
 whoam, afore we see'n summut wurr," en- 
 treated Mally, a sense of alarm creeping over 
 her. " Yon's made me feel gradely unycssy." 
 
 " Theaw's no 'casion t' feel unyessy, 
 Mally," said Joe, again passing his arm round 
 the girl's waist. I'm noane a gentleman an' 
 theaw'rt noane a ladi/, so we con afford to 
 stick to one another like a tak-up to a dur- 
 flag. I'm just thinkin' ut if Dick Robinson
 
 IRKDALE. '2o& 
 
 wurt' meet yon two, it iid be wurr nor a clog- 
 battle in abeawt a hawve a minnit ; for Dick 
 thinks moore o' Adelaide nor if hoo're a 
 queen. Well, come, dunno tremble. We 
 are no' a' bad uns ; if we wur, it iid be a 
 queer world; so cock up thy jib, an' let's 
 have another smeawtch, an' then I'se goo 
 whoam an' feel as fain as a lad wi' a new suit 
 o' clooas an' a buttercake." 
 
 Joe obtained the coveted kiss, along with 
 a look of confiding love, and the two, ponder- 
 ing no doubt on what they had seen and 
 heard, took their way homewards ; and so 
 dehghted were they with each other at part- 
 ing (to meet again the following night), that 
 Joe declared to Mally " ut if it wurno' for 
 havin' t' set to wark i'tli' mornin', he'd get 
 upo' th' heawse, an' peearch upo' th' slates 
 o'er wheer hoo slept, so ut he shouldno' be so 
 far off her."
 
 256 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 An inquest was held at the " Jolly Jum- 
 per,'* on the body of a living man ; if he 
 could he said to be living who only ate and 
 drank and slept, — who, in other respects, was 
 as dead to the world as if he was already en- 
 closed in his coffin. That man was Charles 
 Herbert. Jacob Robinson officiated as coro- 
 ner over the inquiry; Clinker was foreman, 
 and Swinkey, Robin th' milkman, and three 
 or four other frequenters of the house, com- 
 posed the jury. King Saul was not present, 
 having been sent for to the Grange ; for what 
 purpose nobody could surmise. Pothook, as 
 may be supposed, was absent ; the resuscita- 
 tion of his tripe and trotter business requiring 
 his presence elsewhere, but the kitchen, never- 
 theless, retained much of its former character 
 and a])pearance.
 
 IRKDALE. 257 
 
 It was Saturday evening of the week fol- 
 lowing Whitsuntide, and as a consequence of 
 the pastime, funds were low with a majority 
 of the company. Besides, times were not so 
 good in Irkdale at this period as they were 
 ten years before, and the change had told 
 upon the business of the "Jumper." Old 
 Johnny's till did not ring as it was wont to 
 do, and gills had taken the place of pints in 
 many instances. 
 
 As stated in a previous chapter, it was 
 rumoured that Mr Herbert had been removed 
 to a private lunatic asylum. This, however, 
 was not the case. There was nothing so vio- 
 lent or dano-erous in his madness as to neces- 
 
 o 
 
 sitate his removal from home. It took more 
 of the quiet and absent form of mental de- 
 rangement, like the imbecility of age. He 
 did not appear to remember anything con- 
 nected with the immediate cause of his mis- 
 fortune. Whit-week was as thoroughly a 
 blank to him as if it had been unlived. But 
 the more remote associations haunted his 
 memory, and he would converse with imagin-
 
 258 IRKDALE. 
 
 ary people, and brood over scenes that ap- 
 peared to have strange revelations connected 
 with them. It had been the opinion of some 
 that he was merely suftering from an attack 
 of delirium tremens, and that a few days' quiet 
 would restore him to his proper person ; but 
 as one day succeeded another, and brought 
 no change in his demeanour, suspicions of a 
 settled mental aberration became stronger. 
 His creditors forbore to press their claims 
 whilst there was the sKghtest hope of return- 
 ing reason, a circumstance that would have 
 afforded example to people belonging to more 
 legitimate professions. These, however, could 
 not be held back altogether ; the crash must 
 reverberate, — then, farewell the Grange — 
 the " pomp and circumstance " of voluptuous 
 life; — farewell visions of splendour, the 
 golden dream that scattered luxury in 
 every path till heaven was forgotten ])y the 
 dreamer ! 
 
 The worst suspicions had been confirmed 
 when our little party assembled at the Jolly 
 Jumper, so that the "jury" had little to do
 
 IRKDALE. 259 
 
 but agree upon a verdict. Jacob Robinson 
 hereupon rose to sum up. 
 
 " Chaps," said the " coroner," " it just 
 lies here : Mesthur Herbert's takken com- 
 plately eawt o' eawr honds. We'n no mooar 
 to do with him nor if he're farmin' his httle 
 bit o' greawnd i'th' church-yard yondher. 
 If he's done owt wrung to us, we mun for- 
 give him ; for he's nobbut hke a chilt in its 
 dadins,* cryin' for things it knows nowt 
 abeawt, an' uts no moore knowledge o' what's 
 gooin on reawnd it, nor if it wur shut up in a 
 cubbert or asleep in it kayther. Someb'dy 
 sed ' Sarve him reet.' Well, that's a hard 
 thing for t' say. As I towd yo' before, he's 
 takken eawt o' eawr honds. God o' Meety's 
 tryin' him his own way, an' he'll ha' witnesses 
 ut'll tell th' truth, yo' may depend on't ; an' 
 he'll weigh him up like George at Royles did, 
 full bobbins an' empties, an' if he finds him 
 short o' weight, it's nowt to us. Neaw, I 
 shouldno like nob'dy to look upo' this as any 
 sort of a joke. It's a sayrious thing, losin' 
 * Dadins; leading-strings.
 
 260 IRKDALE. 
 
 their wits. It's like decin an' takkin their 
 "wynt at th' same ; an' if I mut say what th' 
 verdict, as yo're pleeast to co it, owt t' be, 
 I should give it in 'Deead alive, an' buried 
 wick.' Neaw then, we'n done '.vith hiui. 
 His akeawnt i' heaven's shop-book is closed. 
 It's crossed off at th' bottom, an' whether 
 God o' Meety '11 make him a bankrupt or not 
 will noather consam th' Lord Chancellor nor 
 never a judge ut sits under a wig. If he's 
 done any on us an injury, as I sed before, we 
 mun forgive him. I're towd ut if he'd won 
 i'sted o' havin' lost, he'd ha' bowt a' Irkdale, 
 an' made my heawse int' a dog-kennel. That 
 'ud ha' bin wrung, I feel, for I've livt yonder 
 gooin' o' forty yer, an' owe noather londlort 
 nor nob'dy else a penny. I've paid for th' 
 heawse abeawt five times o'er, an' I think I 
 owt to tarry in it till I'm ready to flit into th' 
 churchyort. But as I're saying, it wurno 
 fort' be : one hoss just puttcn it yed before 
 anotlier has changed everythin', an' we owt to 
 think no mooar abeawt it. It's bin God's 
 will, and I believe He knows what's th' best."
 
 IRKDALE. 261 
 
 From the looks of the company, as Jacob 
 resumed his seat, it was evident that a major- 
 ity concurred in his observations, and were 
 prepared to return a " verdict" accordingly. 
 Robin, th' milkman, who was a clod of a fel- 
 low, however, dissented from the general 
 tenom' of the sentiments put forth. He could 
 not see why the bankrupt ought not to be 
 morally as well as legally responsible. The 
 man owed him something like a pound for milk 
 and butter, and he should take the first oppor- 
 tunity of lodging his claim for the amount. 
 Jacob Robinson was a sentimental old fool 
 according to the farmer's notion ; but senti- 
 ment would not grow grass and corn, nor 
 supply fodder for the shippon ; therefore Ro- 
 bin would have none of it. 
 
 " Robin," said Jacob, again rising, and 
 casting a lowering glance at his neighbour, 
 " thy feyther once borrowed ten peawnd off 
 me on a stamped note. It wur owin' when 
 he dee'd, though I believe he could ha' paid 
 me. Neaw, I could ha' fotcht th' vally on't 
 eawt o'th' shippon or th' stable if I'd had a
 
 2G2 IRKDALE. 
 
 mind; but I sed — Nawe, I Avinno rob his 
 cliilder. Deead folk owe no debts, I thowt ; 
 so I forgan him, an' bnmt th' note. Thy 
 milk-score's nobbut a peawnd, theaw ses : 
 theaw'rt dooin' weel : be marciful, an' say 
 nowt abeawt it ; an' if theaw feels any wim* 
 off i' thy mind, I'll mak' thee a pair o' wheel- 
 barrows for nowt ; neaw then I" 
 
 Though Robin felt piqued at this unex- 
 pected disclosure the joiner had made respect- 
 ing his deceased father's debts, he said nothing 
 in reference to it, but drank more frequently 
 and smoked more determinedly, — an effect of 
 the rebuke which his companions heartily 
 enjoyed. 
 
 It was agreed at last, with this single dis- 
 sentient, that a charitable view of j\Ir Her- 
 bert's affairs would be the most proper and 
 satisfactory to all parties present, and that the 
 least said about them would best accord with 
 the character and disposition of the good peo- 
 ple of Irkdalc. The man had lost every 
 earthly possession ; and more, he had been 
 deprived of that Avithout which life was not
 
 IRKDALE. 263 
 
 Avoi'tli having, the hnk which connects this 
 world Avith the next — his reason. Let him 
 rest I 
 
 " AVhat are Mesther Herbert's lia- 
 biHties, dun yo' know, Jacob?" inquired 
 CHnker, who, although he was regarded as 
 foreman of the "jury," had hitherto said but 
 little. 
 
 " Well, I've yerd different tales," the joiner 
 replied ; " some sen fifty theawsunt ; I've yerd 
 eighty; an ther are folk ut sen they would 
 no' clear him for a hundert. But, heawever, 
 one thing is sartin, a's gone, and moore be- 
 side it. Ther winno be a rag nor a stick left 
 when a's sattlet up." 
 
 " I've yerd some queer tales abeawt that 
 lad of his," observed the smith, with a degree 
 of hesitancy in his manner. " They sen it 
 isno a' square with him." 
 
 The joiner's countenance fell on hearing 
 this communication, and he hitched his chair 
 closer to the table, and looked very inquiringly 
 at his friend. 
 
 "What is ther up tlieere, Clinker?" he
 
 264 IRKDALE. 
 
 said in a half whisper ; " has the young cock 
 bin crowin' like th' owd un ?" 
 
 " Well," said Clinker ; and he rung his 
 pipe on the fender, as if intended to increase 
 the significance of what he was about to im- 
 part : " They sen he's bin cooartin a young 
 lady fro tooart Karsey Moor, as rich as a hoo 
 Jew, an' a very fine womman for t' look at, 
 too, for owt I know." 
 
 "An' what by that?" interposed Robin, 
 th' milkman. 
 
 " AVait a bit, an' I'll tell thee," replied 
 the smith, not at all pleased with the interrup- 
 tion. " He's bin borrowin' brass oS" her upo' 
 the strength o' weddin ; an' spendin' it same 
 as if it wur wo'th nowt. 
 
 " What," said the landlord, with a look of 
 astonishment, " I thowt ther wurno a nicer, 
 steadier, daccnter lad i' a'th' country nor Mm. 
 Clinker, theawrt mista'en, mon." 
 
 " Well, yon Joe o' eawrs goes rootin' abeawt 
 i' queer places, an amung strange folk, when 
 he goes o' shooin' for Owd Jenks, th' boss 
 doctor ; an' he gets to know things ut arc no'
 
 IRKDALE. 265 
 
 put i'th' newspaper every day, that he does ;" 
 and the smith agam rapped the fender Avith 
 his pipe. 
 
 " I could tell yo' to a figure," Clinker re- 
 sumed, "lieaw mich young Herbert's borrowed 
 i'th' last month o' this womman, neaw then ! 
 an' he hasno' spent it i'buyin' hymn-books, 
 that's another thing. Neaw would yo believe 
 ut he's had abeawt fifty peawnd i'th' month, 
 an' squandert it — God knows heaw ? " 
 
 " Nawe, I shouldno' ; heaw theaw taks 
 my wynt, Clinker I" and Johnny dropped 
 upon a chair as suddenly as if he'd been 
 knocked down. " He co'ed here," he said, 
 " no lunger sin nor th' last week, an' axt me 
 if I could let him ha' five peawnd for th' 
 month. He sed his feyther did nor alleaw 
 him sixpence ; but he should ha' some brass 
 comin' to him in a week or two. He sed he 
 wanted to buy th' pawn-ticket belonging to a 
 ring ut wur wo'th a great deeal mooar nor five 
 peaAvnd, an' he're gooin' t' niak a present on 
 it to a young womman. Th' lad towd sich a 
 straight forrud tale abeawt it, ut I leet him ha'
 
 2GG IRKUALE. 
 
 til' brass at oncet beawt tliinkin' owt anyinoor 
 abeawt it." 
 
 " That's a bad score, Johnny," said the 
 milkman, grinning. " Yo' may get th' 
 dish-cleawt to it, same as yo' did thoose 
 sixteen pints ut Pothook set on when he 
 said he'rc gooin a makkin his fortin i'th' 
 teawn." 
 
 " Well, I shanno ax thee t' pay it," said 
 the landlord, hastily. " Theaw generally man- 
 ages t' drink a' theaw pajfs for, an' happen a 
 sope mooar, sometimes ; so theaw may howd 
 thy huslit. I should ha' towd yo'," he con- 
 tinued, turning to the others, " ut eawr parson 
 co'ed th' day after, he does co sometimes o' 
 gettin' a warm gill wi' a bit o' nutmeg grat- 
 tert in it, an' a bit o' lemon, and I axt him a 
 cpicstion or two abeawt this lad, an' fro' what 
 he towd me, I du'st ha' trusted him wi' fifty 
 pcawnd i'sted o' five. He sed thcr' wurno' a 
 nicer, quieter, civiller, bether-mindut lad with- 
 in th' seawnd o' eawr bells ; noa th' skoo bell, 
 for that's crackt, same as thee, Robin, an' 
 crackt folk arc no' th' readiest at given owt,"
 
 JRKDALE. 267 
 
 and Johnny threw a sarcastic look at the milk- 
 man. 
 
 Jacob Robinson had been silent for some 
 time, looking steadfastly at the fire, and 
 scarcely listening to the conversation. He 
 started up at length, however, and hitched his 
 chair still closer to the smith. His thoughts 
 had been reverting to Clinker's statement re- 
 specting Alfred Herbert's amatory affairs, and 
 in a manner that betokened deep concern, 
 inquired if his friend knew anything more of 
 such matters, 
 
 " What family does this young womman 
 belong to, Clinker, ut theawe's bin tellin' 
 abeawt ? " he said, " I could liket' yer a bit 
 moore abeawt her." 
 
 "Well, I dunno exactly know," replied 
 the smith; "they sen her feythcr made a 
 fortin wi' hoss-racin', an' ut hoo's a bit gan 
 to gamblin' hersel. Hoo wur deawn at th' 
 Grange o' hoss-back a day or two sin', eawr 
 Joe wur sayin', an' a bonny beawncer hoo is. 
 As fat as a Chinee pig, an' dashes o'er wick 
 thuru an' wayther same as a hunter. An'
 
 268 IRKDALE. 
 
 I've yerd moore nor that ; tliey sen lioo's 
 Mesther Herbert's biggest creditor, an' hoo's 
 made it so ut nob'dy con touch th' Grange 
 nobbut hersel', so ut if it comes to a weddin' 
 between her an' th' young un, hoo'll ha' nowt 
 t' do but hang her bonnet up, an' stable her 
 hoss, an' they'n goo on agen same as nowt 
 had happent." 
 
 "Well, I'm fain theaw's towd me this. 
 Clinker," said Jacob ; " I're feeart ther sum- 
 mit between him an' yon wench ut eawr 
 heawse ; but neaw I feel a bit yessier abcawt 
 it. I did no' want t' part wi' her at a' ; that 
 theaw knows. Clinker. I geet a letter fro' 
 her feyther, o' Wednesday, an' he ses in it at 
 I munno be su'prist if he pops int'th' Jumper 
 some Sethurday neet, same as he did afore, but 
 in a different phght." 
 
 " He's in Ameriky, is nor he? " inquired 
 the other. 
 
 " It's just here," replied Jacob, " he 
 didno' want nob'dy t' know beside me wheere 
 he wur ; but between us two he's noane in 
 Ameriky. He's somewheere else, an' makkin'
 
 IRKDALE. 269 
 
 brass as fast as he con keawnt it, for owt I 
 know, an' when he comes back he's for buyin' 
 eawr Nanny a new bed-geawn, an' we mun 
 ha' th' biggest stew some Smiday morning nt 
 con be bowt i' Manchester ; ther'll be some 
 starleet then, owd lad." 
 
 " Talk abeawt yo're Nanny," said the 
 smith, casting a glance toward the door, " here 
 hoo is, by th'mon ! " 
 
 "Ay, by owd Sam an' his wife!" ex- 
 claimed Jacob, twisting round his chair as he 
 spoke. " What's up neaw, I wondher ? 
 Nanny, wench, what art theaw after ? I could 
 ha' fund th' road whoam beawt thee comin' 
 for me." 
 
 " Sink thee, lad, I'm noane comn for thee, 
 — nowt o'th' sort," returned a " cant " old 
 woman, who with a chocolate silk handker- 
 chief tied over a white, full-screened cap, had 
 crept as quietly as a ghost to the kitchen door. 
 " I never did come a fotchin' thee whoam yet, 
 an' I shanno begin neaw, chus heaw theaw 
 stops eawt." 
 
 "Well, what's browt thee here, then?"
 
 270 IRKDALE. 
 
 demanded the individual who claimed to be 
 the woman's lord and master, — our old friend 
 Jacob Robinson. 
 
 " My legs, what else ?" replied the dame, 
 coming forward and laying her hand upon her 
 husband's shoulder. "It's noane that gate 
 but I con come beawt bein' carried." 
 
 " Nawe, but theaw's summit up, I con 
 see. AVhat is it ? " 
 
 " AVait till I've getten my wynt," said the 
 other, wnth some haste. " Theawrt i' sich a 
 hurry ; an' theaw wouldno ax me t' sit me 
 down if I're fairly droppin'. Oh dear me ! " 
 she exclaimed, seatincj herself in a rather odd 
 manner upon the nearest chair, — " sich a 
 woald as this ! " 
 
 " Come, neaw — what is it ? " 
 
 " Well, theaw'ii; wanted awhoam. I dunno 
 want tlice, sink thee ; theaw met ha' tarried 
 a' neet, for me ; but yon's a young felly comn, 
 an come into th' heawse he would, whether 
 I'd let him or not. He wanted to see thee, he 
 said, an' have a word with thee. I've had t* 
 leeavc him wi' eawr Addy : sich a thing as I
 
 IRKDALE. 271 
 
 never ycrd tell on before. The iday (idea), 
 Jacob, o' young fellies an' wimmin talkin' to 
 one another by tJiersels. It's eawtragions ; is 
 nor it ? " 
 
 " By til' mass, neaw — that seawnds nieeti- 
 ly like cooartin'," said Jacob ; his desire to 
 be facetious prevailing over his alarm. 
 " Theaw's forgotten thu cooartin' days, when 
 theaw ust' creep to th' eend o' th' heawse, 
 after yerrin' my whistle ; an' heaw sometimes 
 thy feyther 'ud ha' comn eawt wi' a brier rod 
 in his hont, an' say he'd mark me across th' 
 back with it till I're scored like a pie-crust 
 if I didno be off. But whoa is this young 
 felly?" 
 
 " Eh, dunno ax me that," entreated the 
 dame, shaking her head, as if to imply a 
 negative answer. " He's a nice young felly, 
 an' weel donned; an' talks as fine as a 
 gentleman. He's somebody, theaw may be 
 sure." 
 
 " Heaw wur it theaw didno' scaud him ; 
 wur th' kettle noane wot ? " 
 
 " Well, he lookt i' sich a takkin : so I
 
 272 IRKDALE. 
 
 thowt I'd come an' fotch thee ; for I could no 
 moor stir him nor if he'd bin cheeant fast to 
 th' oon dur." 
 
 " Theaw tells a queer tale, Nanny ; I'se 
 belike t' goo an' see if I con shift him wi* 
 my foot ;" and Jacob placed his hands upon 
 his knees, and sprang up like a man of fewer 
 years, who had made up his mind to fight. 
 
 " Chnker," he said, turning to the smith, 
 "ther's summut to do moore nor a duck 
 peearching, I'll uphowd thee. It strikes me 
 it's that young prowt fro th' Grange ; an' if 
 it is, I'll know what he meeans afore he 
 strides o'er eawr dur stone agen ; mind if 
 I dunno. Come, Nanny, let's treddle deawn 
 th' bruck, an' see what a' this peeweetin' 
 meeans. Wheere's eawr Dick ? " 
 
 "Theaw knows he set off to Manchester 
 this afternoon," Nanny replied; "an' he's 
 noane comn back yet. I'm feeart that lad's 
 begun a stoppin' eawt moore nor he should 
 do. I wondher whatever's comn o'er him." 
 
 " I'll brake his back if he doesno' mind. 
 He's gettin' as sulky an' as dokin as an' owd
 
 IRKDALE. 273 
 
 turn. cat. I think he's abeawt ciittin' some 
 moore teeth, an's a bit plagut for t' get 'em 
 through. I'll lance 'em wi' my fist if he 
 doesno' mind what he's abeawt ; that I will. 
 Come on, Nan." Thus sketching forth a 
 course of corporeal admonition with which 
 to check the wayward inclination of his son, 
 Jacob bade his companions " good neet," 
 and accompanied by his spouse, took an early 
 departure from the " Jolly Jumper." 
 
 18
 
 274 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 In order to gather the incidents of the 
 story, it will be necessary to retrace our steps 
 for a short distance, and return to the circum- 
 stances which induced Nanny Robinson to 
 visit the " Jolly Jumper." 
 
 We find the good dame engaged with 
 her Saturday's baking, an institution so 
 thoroughly linked with the tastes and con- 
 servatisms of Lancashire people as to be 
 looked upon by them with a species of 
 rehgious regard. Woe to our country, think 
 many, when public bakehouses shall super- 
 sede private ovens, when there shall no longer 
 be any necessity for that peculiarly-bright fire 
 which seems to have a partiality for one side 
 of the grate, and makes the polished fend- 
 erplate a mirror of cheerful fantoccini ! 
 Nanny would as soon have thought of
 
 IRKDALE. 275 
 
 sending her " tins " to the crater of Vesu- 
 vius as submitting them to the hands of a 
 pubHc baker; and, as for using "papper 
 berm," as she contemptuously termed Ger- 
 man yeast, that was as far beyond her in- 
 chnation as the giving up of baking alto- 
 gether. Nanny on one side of the hearth, 
 and the cat on the other, with a row of 
 " rising " loaves betwixt them, was a pictm'e 
 of domestic comfort that the inexperienced 
 in Lancashire life would be apt to speak of 
 lightly. Then the dough-mug, with its cover 
 of white cloth, and the rolling board, that 
 when it was not in use, hung as an ornament 
 in the nook, — these were accessories that 
 ought not to be left out of the picture. 
 
 Our "gude wife" was in the act of 
 sounding a crisp-looking loaf which she had 
 just taken out of the oven, when Adelaide 
 Wilson, who had been doing some light 
 shopping, in a hurried manner entered the 
 house. The dame was startled by this 
 sudden interruption of her evening's work, 
 and was incHiied to indulge in a little mild
 
 276 IRKDALE. 
 
 scolding, when the unusual expression that 
 dwelt on the girl's countenance caught her 
 attention. 
 
 " Whatever's t' do wi' thee, wench ? " was 
 Nanny's exclamation, as she levelled her 
 spectacles at the troubled face. 
 
 " Granny, you won't think worse of me, 
 will you ? " said Adelaide, the blush upon 
 her cheek giving way to a sudden pale- 
 ness, as she encountered her foster-parent's 
 glance. 
 
 "Think wurr on thee, what for? " 
 
 " I couldn't help it ; he would follow me," 
 and the lass gave a hasty look in the direction 
 of the window. 
 
 " Theaw's not a chap wi' thee, hasta?" 
 
 The other was silent, and the blush came 
 to her cheeks again. 
 
 " Yi, theaw has ; I see him yonder, rot 
 him ! " Nanny continued, going towards the 
 door. " Addy, I did no ' think theaw'd had 
 owt o'th' sort, an' I'm loathe to think it neaw. 
 Whoa is he?" 
 
 " I don't wish to deceive you, granny,"
 
 IRKDALE. 277 
 
 said Adelaide. " He's a young gentleman 
 that I've — met before — a time or two — and 
 he will make me — stop with him when I 
 meet him. He says he must come in and 
 speak to you." 
 
 " Adelaide, theaw shouldno' ha' gentlemen 
 following thee. Iff will have a chap, an' 
 it's soon enoogh yet, let it be a dacent poor 
 body like one's sel, an' noane o' yor grand 
 folk. Sometimes ther's no good comes o' 
 sich like ; " and the dame shook her head and 
 paused at the " spear." 
 
 " He's poor enough at present, God 
 knows," said Adelaide, in a compassionate 
 tone, "and he's in great trouble about his 
 father." 
 
 " His feyther ; whoa is his feyther ? " 
 
 " Mr Herbert at the Grange." 
 
 " Lord bless us ! Addy, no belike it's 
 him ! Theavv's set me a' ov a tremble." 
 
 There came a knock at the door just as 
 Nanny was giving vent to her astonishment. 
 The latch was lifted, and, with a wild, sad 
 look, and disordered exterior that was indica-
 
 278 IRKDALE. 
 
 tive of his having slept several nights in his 
 clothes, Alfred Herbert presented himself at 
 the " spear." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mrs Robinson," 
 said the youth, in a tone expressive of the 
 greatest humility, " but I've been wanting to 
 see you for some time, and hadn't the courage 
 to visit your house. May I take a seat ? " 
 
 "If yo' plceosn," said the dame, survey- 
 ing the visitor from head to foot. " Yo' seen 
 I'm bakin', an' I munno' let my bread spoyle. 
 What dun yo' want ?" 
 
 Adelaide had by this time retired upstairs, 
 and the two were left conveniently to them- 
 selves. 
 
 " You must have heard," rephed Alfred, 
 seating himself upon the nearest chair, and 
 looking pensively at the floor, " that there has 
 been a sort of attachment betwixt Miss Wilson 
 and myself." 
 
 " I'd never ycrd on't till just neaw," 
 Nanny replied, " an it wur too soon then." 
 
 " It began in school friendship," con- 
 tinued the young man, "and grew to such
 
 IRKDALE. 279 
 
 intimacy as led to a nearer relationship. I 
 may have acted indiscreetly, but my intentions 
 towards Adelaide were honourable, however 
 my conduct may have led to opposite con- 
 clusions." 
 
 He was talking " Greek — downright 
 Greek", to the old woman then, as might 
 be gathered from the vacant look wdiich she 
 directed towards him. 
 
 " I may be ashamed to confess it, but 
 the time has come when nothing can be 
 concealed. I have had another engagement 
 on my hands whilst I have been keeping 
 company with Miss Wilson ; but it was an 
 engagement forced upon me by circumstances, 
 and I have lived in hopes that I might be 
 enabled to extricate myself from it. The last 
 hope, however, is gone. I have no alternative 
 left but to marry the other lady, and thereby 
 save myself and oiu- ftimily from still greater 
 ruin than that which has overtaken us." 
 
 Mrs Robinson gathered from the visitor's 
 manner, if not from his language, that he 
 had been dealing double in his amatory affairs,
 
 280 IRKDA.LE. 
 
 and that it was desirable, for convenience' 
 sake, his attachment to her foster-child should 
 be broken off. 
 
 " Yo' dunno mean t' say yo'n bin cooartin' 
 two at a time, dun yo' ? " she exclaimed, at 
 the same time throwing open the oven-door, 
 and lettino- out a cloud of fraGrrant steam. 
 
 " I do mean to admit, to my shame, 
 that I have that sin upon my soul, and am 
 prepared to atone for it in the only way left 
 open to me." 
 
 " Well, I never yerd nowt like it ! An' dun 
 gentlefolk aulas cooart two at oncet?" 
 
 "I should hope it is the exception, and 
 that in this case there is yet a way of making 
 some amends for the wrong committed. 
 Where is your good man, Mr Robinson ? 
 I should like to see him before I go." 
 
 " He's wheere he aulus is on a Setturday 
 neet : i' owd Johnny Smithic's nook. If yo' 
 wanten him, I'll fotch him as soon as I've 
 taen thoose two loaves cawt o' tli' oon. But 
 yo' munno lippcn on him bein' so quiet when 
 he yers what yo're comn abeawt."
 
 IRKDALE. 281 
 
 " I must take the consequences, whatever 
 they may be. I have gone foully wrong, and 
 must try to get upon the right path before it 
 is too late." 
 
 " An' what ses Adelaide abeawt it ? " 
 
 " Poor girl ! I am afraid it will be 
 a sad blow to her. Yet she took it so 
 calmly when I broke the matter to her, 
 that, with a little fretting, she may get 
 over it." 
 
 He had falsely estimated the girl's feehngs, 
 had Alfred Herbert. She was sobbing then 
 as if her heart would break, although he knew 
 it not. That he had no strong attachment to 
 her was confessed in the easy, and, I may say, 
 cold manner in which he spoke of their separ- 
 ation ; and he probably measured the depth 
 of Adelaide's affection by comparison with his 
 own. He had no knowledge of the strength 
 of her susceptibilities, as the opportunities for 
 testing them had been few. Now he had 
 subjected them to an ordeal that would bring 
 out the pure gold her heart contained, and 
 which would contrast brightly with the worldly
 
 282 IRKDALE. 
 
 dross that lie had suffered to accumulate in 
 his own breast. 
 
 Mrs Robinson now took her last loaves out 
 of the oven, and calling upstairs to her foster- 
 daughter, said she was going out for a short 
 time on an errand, whereupon Adelaide left 
 her chamber, and descended to the house-place. 
 Alfred Herbert could not help being struck 
 Avith the altered appearance of his discarded 
 mistress, if the term discarded may be appro- 
 priately used. Her eyes were red with weep- 
 ing ; her face was flushed, and her whole mien 
 was such as to betoken the passing of a severe 
 inward struggle. She tied on the old woman's 
 head -napkin with her accustomed regard 
 to neatness, notwithstanding that her hand 
 trembled, and her bosom heaved, and the tears 
 were not yet dry upon her cheeks. This done, 
 she threw her arms round her guardian's neck 
 and wept afresh ; an emotion in which the old 
 dame joined, and the two stood for some 
 moments a spectacle for the callous of heart to 
 moralize upon.
 
 283 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Alfred Herbert was of too generous and 
 sympathetic a disposition in the main to have 
 been an indifferent spectator of the scene be- 
 fore him ; and had not ruin been staring him 
 in the face, it is more than probable he might 
 have revoked the decision which circumstances 
 had apparently forced upon him. If he did 
 not regard Adelaide with that deep affection 
 which admits of no second course, she certainly 
 occupied the highest place in his esteem ; and 
 now that tears had enhanced her beauty, giving 
 a ray of holiness to charms which he had not 
 beheld only in their happiest light, he felt 
 such reproaches of his conduct as made his 
 conscience wince under the ordeal. But 
 necessity is inexorable, and fate was hurrying 
 him on to pui-poses over which he had no con- 
 trol. By simply sacrificing present feelings
 
 284 IRKDALE. 
 
 and desires, he bad the means of raising him- 
 self from a state of indigence and peril to one 
 of affluence and ease ; and where was the 
 young man, situated like himself, who would 
 forego such an opportunity for the sake of a 
 little sentimental pastime ? This thing is done, 
 he reasoned, every day. Lovers disagree, 
 part, — a few tears on one side and regrets on 
 the other; and affections, or at least likings, 
 become transferred with the ease of a com- 
 mercial transaction. "Love in a cotta£!:e" 
 was all very well ; but he had neither cottage 
 nor the means of furnishing one, even if that 
 was the only consideration. He was on the 
 edge of a precipice; one more step forward, 
 and down he would go to hopeless ruin. 
 Why then hesitate ? His name was yet fair in 
 Irkdale, for aught he knew ; and even if it had 
 suffered, he had the power of redemption in 
 his own hands. Backward he must look for 
 salvation, and his first love must be sacrificed. 
 " Miss Wilson," — no longer " Adelaide." 
 The change fell upon the poor girl's heart like 
 ice. " Miss Wilson," said Alfred, not without
 
 IRKDALE. 285 
 
 tenderness, "you will forgive me, I am sure. 
 If this could have been avoided, God knows it 
 would. I have no choice — none whatever." 
 
 Mrs Robinson had departed on her errand, 
 and Adelaide now stood looking through the 
 window, from which the last gleam of sunset 
 was just retiring. Her own sun was going 
 down ere the meridian had been attained ; and 
 the night of her love, where no hope lingered, 
 was shrouding around her. 
 
 " I have said already I forgive you," she 
 replied, after a painful pause; "and if you 
 would have me still respect you, leave me at 
 once." 
 
 " But I would have you love me still, as I 
 shall ever love you," said Alfred, in a moment 
 of indiscretion, and probably meaning less 
 than the words implied. 
 
 " That can never be, Alfred Herbert," 
 Adelaide exclaimed, a proud and indignant 
 spirit suddenly overcoming her gentle nature. 
 " If I forgive you, there must be no condition 
 but one." 
 
 " And what must that be ? "
 
 286 IRKDALE. 
 
 "That we regard each other only as 
 strangers." 
 
 " I can never submit to such a condition, 
 Adelaide, — anything but that. If you refuse 
 to love me, you cannot prevent my still re- 
 garding you as one towards whom my heart 
 can never change, whatever attachment I may 
 be supposed to entertain towards others." 
 
 " If you are capable of assuming a regard 
 you do not feel, how do I know that you ever 
 really loved me?" asked Adelaide, with the 
 slightest bitterness in her manner. 
 
 " When first I became acquainted with 
 you," Alfred replied, " I knew little of the 
 world beside ; and had I remained ignorant 
 of everything but you, I should now have felt 
 less cause for regret. You know not the 
 troubles that beset me, Adelaide ; if you did 
 you would pity rather than reproach mc." 
 
 " I do pity you, Alfred ; I can do that at 
 least. Your father's misfortunes will fall upon 
 you to some extent, and they alone entitle you 
 to sympathy." 
 
 " But there are misfortunes of my own
 
 IRKDALE. 287 
 
 that voii know notliins: of, Adelaide; and 
 which if I were to name, my conduct towards 
 you would not be so unaccountable as it 
 otherwise must appear." 
 
 " I only wish to know you as I have 
 known you hitherto," said the girl, mournfully. 
 " I have said I forgive you. Let that be 
 suflficient. You will forget sooner than I." 
 
 " But it is necessary to say one word in 
 exculpation of my conduct ; " and the young 
 man rose, and seizing the girl's hand as if to 
 take leave, said — "Adelaide, two years ago 
 I was as innocent as you are. I had not then 
 learnt to dissemble. I knew not what dissi- 
 mulation meant. I was as happy, too, as any 
 boy in Irkdale ; devoted to my studies, and 
 hopeful of some time occupying an honourable 
 position in society. My hopes soon failed on 
 my entrance upon what we are pleased to call 
 the world. My father's profession clung to 
 me like a curse. I could not be admitted into 
 certain classes of society. The moderately 
 respectable, I thought, regarded me with dis- 
 trust, if thev did not shun me alto2:ether.
 
 288 IRKDALE. 
 
 They seemed to say, ' gambler's son/ as they 
 passed me, and I felt the reproach hourly 
 stinging my soul. My father placed me in 
 his own oifice. AVhat had I before me there 
 but to follow in his steps ? I became dis- 
 gusted with my duties in a short time ; and 
 he then, seeing my aversion to the business, 
 obtained for me a situation in a mercantile 
 concern, where I should have the benefit of 
 wider and more creditable experience. Here 
 I became associated with a number of fast 
 vouno; men, who attended music saloons, ovs- 
 ter rooms, midnight routs, and gay assemblies. 
 / had example at home of this kind of life, 
 and from that circumstance entered upon it 
 with fewer qualms than I otherwise might have 
 felt. This was an expensive career. Money 
 seemed to melt at my touch. I became in- 
 volved at last, made a false step, went deeper 
 and deeper into difficulties, till, finding myself 
 so beset, I became seriously alarmed for the 
 safety of my reputation. 
 
 " One night, my father had a party of 
 friends at home, a Miss Dashwood being
 
 IRKDALE. 289 
 
 among them ; a person as much devoted to 
 gaming as himself. Miss Dashwood was 
 reputed immensely wealthy. We were part- 
 ners in a dance, during which, strange as it 
 may appear, she confessed a regard for me, 
 and offered her whole fortune to my keeping. 
 This my father was not ignorant of; in fact, 
 to bring us together was the principal motive 
 that led him to give the entertainment ; and 
 I, flattered by the lady's partiality, allowed 
 my vanity to overcome my self-respect. The 
 consequence was, that, whilst unmanned I 
 submitted. The syren compromised all that 
 was truthful and honourable in my relations 
 with you, and opened the only way to save 
 me from crime. 
 
 " I have now explained to you everything ; 
 and if, after hearing the confession, you could 
 desire to attach yourself to a wretch like me, 
 you are indeed forgiving." 
 
 " I pity you, Alfred, indeed I do," said 
 Adelaide, making an effort to release her 
 hand. " Had you told me this before" — 
 
 "What then, Adelaide?" 
 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 290 IRKDALE. 
 
 " I might perhaps have saved you." 
 
 " You have saved me ! Impossible ! 
 
 " There is nothing impossible with God. 
 I would have prayed for you night and day, 
 and surely He would have helped you. It is 
 now too late." 
 
 " It is too late, Adelaide ; and I feel that 
 I ha^'e only one duty towards you, that of 
 ridding you of a presence which can only pre- 
 judice your good name. But before we part, 
 accept this ring as a remembrance of a happier 
 time. It was the gift of my stepmother, and 
 is only suited to the hand of innocence." 
 
 With that the young man took a small 
 diamond ring from his purse, and presented 
 it to Adelaide, who, strange to say, allowed 
 him unresistingly to place it on her finger. 
 
 " It may be some acknowledgment of my 
 love, and atonement for the wrong I have 
 committed. It is all the restitution I can 
 make except restoring to you that liberty 
 which will be necessary for your future hap- 
 piness. Farewell ! and may God bless 
 you!"
 
 IRKDALE. 291 
 
 But the girl had lost all consciousness, and 
 fainted. Her lips had lost their colour, and 
 an ashy paleness was spreading over her face. 
 It was a crisis, the young man felt, and what 
 to do under the circumstances he knew not. 
 
 At this moment footsteps were heard on 
 the threshold. Now, the door flew open, and 
 the next moment Dick Robinson entered the 
 room. 
 
 Starthng apprehensions came over Dick, 
 as he stood observing the silent pair. 
 
 " I am afraid you will ww-interpret this 
 situation," stammered Alfred, as soon as fear 
 Would allow him utterance. 
 
 " Miss what ?" growled Dick between his 
 teeth, as he crouched cat-like before his adver- 
 sary, " I shanno miss thee if I mak a spring. 
 If theaAv hasno' thy prayers sed i' two minits, 
 I'll send thee to Banter's o' Boby's in a wel- 
 wynt. So deawn o' thy knees while thy limbs 
 are whul." 
 
 " But, Mr Richard "— 
 
 "Dunno Mesthur me; but get thy cooat 
 off afore I mak it int' mop-rags."
 
 292 IRKDALE. 
 
 " You'll surely allow me to explain " — 
 
 " I'll alleaw thee t' knock my yed off if 
 theaw con. I've had enoogli explaint to-day. 
 I want to yer no mooar." 
 
 " What have you heard ? " 
 
 "Yerd? Why enoof t' crack my ears. 
 I towd thee what I'd do for thee if I catcht 
 thee i' any sort o' hanky-panky wark, — an' 
 I'm gooin' to do it i' two minits. Theaw's bin 
 wayvin upo' two looms at onct, an if that's reet 
 up an' deawn straight, I've lost my plim-bob 
 (plumb-i'ule)." 
 
 " I confess it, my friend, and have come 
 hear to make atonement for the wrong." 
 This Alfred said in a tone that was intended 
 as an appeal to the better nature of his an- 
 tagonist ; but Dick was imperturbable, and 
 his knuckles did not relax the least, nor did 
 the grin with which his teeth were set alter 
 one jot of its savage expression. 
 
 It was useless, then, either to reason with 
 or appeal to such a nature, thus warped by a 
 desire to avenge what Dick considered the 
 fallen honour of his foster-sister. The bland-
 
 IRKDALE. 293 
 
 est smiles and the most honied words of young 
 Herbert, all the dissimulation of which he was 
 master, would prove ineffectual, and iVlfred 
 made up his mind at once to meet the worst. 
 Placing Adelaide in old Jacob's arm-chair, he 
 put himself in an attitude of self-defence, and 
 bade his adversary take as much out of him 
 as he possibly could. 
 
 Dick made a rush towards Adelaide, to 
 assure himself that she was breathing, prepar- 
 atory to " going into action," a movement 
 which young Herbert mistook for an intended 
 assault upon his own person ; for no sooner 
 had the former made his advance than the 
 latter met him with a left-handed blow upon 
 the face. 
 
 He was strong and active, was Alfred, and 
 had made himself tolerably proficient in the 
 art of self-defence. He had the advantage, 
 too, of having given the first blow — drawn 
 the " first blood," indeed, for a stream of it 
 had begun to trickle down each side of Dick's 
 mouth. But he knew not his man yet. 
 
 Dick was "hard as nails," and with
 
 294 IRKDALE. 
 
 strength unwasted by dissipation, though 
 wanting in "science," had not forgotten what 
 early practice in the school close had taught. 
 With a swing of his right arm, like the mo- 
 tion of a sledge-hammer, he sent his antagon- 
 ist flying head over heels into the nook. 
 
 " Theere, neaw," said the victor, " I've 
 paid thee what I owed thee, an' a bit moore 
 i' th' bargain ; an' if that isnor enoough, 
 theaw con ha' moore o' th' same sort, 
 chep." 
 
 Adelaide sprang to her feet, exclaiming, 
 "How is this? Dick, Dick, what are you 
 doing ? " 
 
 "Fettlin' that mon's meawth a bit," re- 
 plied Dick, eager to resume the encounter 
 now his blood was up ; " an' if he doesno' 
 come up to ' time,' I'll lift him eawt o'the dur 
 wi' my foout, smartly." 
 
 " Oh, Dick ! — you shouldn't have done 
 that, — you might have killed him." 
 
 " Wheay, look what he's done at me," and 
 Dick, turning his face to the fire, exhibited 
 to the alarmed girl a very eccentric moustache,
 
 IRKDALE. 295 
 
 wliicli under less serious circumstances would 
 have been a most ludicrous sight. " But this 
 is nowt, Addy, to what he's done toart thee, 
 if—" 
 
 " Me ! " exclaimed Adelaide, " he's done 
 no wrong to me that I cannot forgive." 
 
 " What ? — has nor he bin cooartin' another 
 at til' same time as thee? Ay, theaw may 
 grooan, theaw young whelp ; but I'll mak thee 
 sing like a pair o' bagpipes afore I've done 
 wi' thee." The latter sentence was addressed 
 to the vanquished youth, who, with his head 
 resting upon the fire-shovel, was groaning 
 most piteously. 
 
 " Alfred ! — Mr Herbert ! — come, get up ! " 
 said Adelaide, crossing the hearth, and trying 
 to rouse her prostrate lover. 
 
 There was no answer to this appeal save 
 another groan, and the girl grew more and 
 more alarmed at the situation. 
 
 " Oh, Dick, you've killed him ! I'm sure 
 you have ; " and Adelaide knelt down by 
 Alfred. 
 
 Dick began to feel alarmed lest something
 
 296 IRKDALE. 
 
 more serious than he had calculated upon 
 should result from the encounter. 
 
 " Does he bleed any ? " he inquired in a 
 softened manner, " I nobbut hit him onct." 
 
 " You might not, but he's dying — I'm sure 
 he's dying. Whatever shall we do ? Mr 
 Herbert '.—Alfred ! " 
 
 There was no response to this call, not 
 even a groan. 
 
 " He munno dee, Addy, I did no meean 
 that," said Dick, his face turning pale as he 
 stooped over his antagonist. " Stond furr, an' 
 I'll gether him up. Poor lad ! he's wurr nor 
 I thowt he'd bin," and Dick raised the help- 
 less youth in his arms, and brought him to 
 the light. 
 
 There certainly was occasion for alarm. 
 Alfred's head drooped over the arm that held 
 it, and Dick stood aghast at the spectacle. 
 
 During a few moments of the most anxious 
 suspense, neither Adelaide nor Dick spoke a 
 word. At length the wounded youth exhi- 
 bited signs of consciousness, and he made an 
 effort to regain his feet.
 
 IllKDALE. 297 
 
 " That'll do," said Dick, expressing con- 
 siderable relief by the manner in which he 
 uttered the words. " He's comin' reawnd 
 like a good un. Get me some wayther, Addy, 
 an' I'll wesh his face. Art' any betther?" 
 The question was addressed to young Herbert, 
 who was doing his best to realize his situation, 
 which for the moment he seemed at a loss to 
 account for. 
 
 " What's this ? " said the latter, looking 
 at the blood upon his clothes. " How have I 
 got it ? " " Oh, it was you. Well, I've 
 deserved it. I don't blame you. I'm a 
 wretched man, Adelaide, you'll forgive me ? " 
 
 " Come, I'll wesh thy face, an' cleean thee 
 up a bit, an' then I'll tak thee whoam. Sit 
 thee deawn i' this cheear while I get some 
 warm wayther." 
 
 Dick's humane intentions were anticipated 
 by Adelaide's ministering hand. The water 
 had already been brought. 
 
 " Neaw then, just stond up, an' try to 
 balance thysel," and Dick released his hold of 
 the young man, and prepared himself for the
 
 298 IRKDALE. 
 
 ablutions. Alfred was no sooner left to him- 
 self than he staggered, threw up his hands, 
 uttered a piercing cry, and fell backwards 
 upon the chair. 
 
 "My leg— my leg!" he cried, "it is 
 hroTcenr 
 
 " I've done it, by , I've done it !" ex- 
 claimed Dick, glancing at his foster-sister 
 Avith a stupified look. " Th' New Bailey's my 
 doom , strai Q-ht forrud . 
 
 The blow which the latter had adminis- 
 tered to his adversary had not only knocked 
 him over the chair he was now sitting upon, 
 but had so completely deprived him of self- 
 control, as to place his left leg in such a posi- 
 tion that the whole weight of his body was 
 thrown upon it, thereby causing the fracture 
 complained of. 
 
 What steps to take in this extremity, Dick 
 was at a loss to devise. It was clear that if he 
 allowed the other to give him a sound thrash- 
 ing, even supposing such a thing possible, it 
 could not restore the soundness of the broken 
 limb, nor " take away the grief" of the wound.
 
 * IRKDALE. 299 
 
 If it could have accomplished either, Dick 
 was prepared to undergo the penalty. But 
 this could not operate as a splint or plaster 
 to the other's ailments, and would, therefore, 
 be a needless exaction. So, what could he 
 do? 
 
 "Never mind my leg — that can't be 
 helped now," said Alfred, " but let me get 
 home as soon as possible." 
 
 " If gettin' thee whoam wur a'," said Dick, 
 as he applied a moistened sponge to the suf- 
 ferer's face, — " I could manage that i' quick- 
 sticks." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " Oh, I could hug a chap a mile if he 
 wurno drunken or stropilous ; so I'll get thee 
 ont' my back, an' carry thee deawn th' Hollow 
 as choysily as a babby." 
 
 " Thank you — thank you ! " said Alfred, 
 as if he had forgotten how he came by the 
 accident. 
 
 " Nay, dunno thank me," said Dick ; — 
 " th' clog owt be upo' th' tother foout, I think. 
 This comes o' bein a bit strong i'th' yed, Addy.
 
 300 IRKDALE. 
 
 If Pothook liadno towd what he has, this 
 wouhl no' ha' bin done," 
 
 " Why, what has he told you ? " asked 
 Adelaide. 
 
 " Nay, it matters nowt neaw. I con see 
 it wimio do to meddle. It con happen be 
 explaint different, an' I'm wiilin' t' wait. We'n 
 summut else i' hond neaw." 
 
 Dick by this time had so far removed the 
 outward effects of his blow from Alfred's face 
 as to render his person moderately presentable 
 at home ; and after a course of delicate towel- 
 ling, which sympathy rather than art assisted 
 the former in performing, he prepared himself 
 for undertaking a journey to the Grange. 
 
 " Come, get ont' my back," he said, stoop- 
 ing to receive his load, " an' I'll trot deawn 
 th' Hollow like a little jack-ass. Thecr, that'll 
 do. Put thy arms under my chin, an' think 
 whoa theaw'rt sticken' for. If theaw's owt 
 say to eawr Addy, I'll put th' flaps o' my ears 
 deawn like a poynter dog, an' yer nowi;." 
 
 Alfred, with much difficulty, managed to 
 adjust himself in a riding position on Dick's
 
 IRKDALE. 301 
 
 back, then holding out his hand to Adelaide, a 
 " good night " was uttered, which she almost 
 inaudibly returned, and Dick set out with his 
 charge to the Grange. 
 
 How hke a farewell sounded that " Good 
 night " to Adelaide's ears. When the two 
 disappeared in the soft twilight which lingered 
 over the valley, and the footsteps were heard 
 no more, a feeling of loneliness crept over 
 the girl as she stood at the door watching the 
 day decline and the shadows gather around 
 her. The sun had gone down long ago ; but 
 there was still a bright halo in the western 
 sky, which gilded the night, as a ray of hope 
 lingers in the sorrowing heart. The light 
 grew fainter, however, until it died away, and 
 as the chill, solemn-toned wind made mourn- 
 ful music amongst the trees, Adelaide felt as 
 if the grave was closing upon her. 
 
 Memory was busy with our young friend, 
 as she stood there watching the setting in of 
 night ; and many happy scenes floated through 
 her imagination; passing like lingering shadows 
 into the vista of faded recollections. The first
 
 302 IRKDALE. 
 
 look Alfred had given her that required her 
 heart to interpret; the gentle assurances of 
 love ; the tender vow, and the " sweet sorrow " 
 of their first parting; — all these came and 
 went, and left a void behind that only grief 
 could fill up. 
 
 It was on the occasion of a Christmas 
 party at school that Alfred first whispered to 
 Adelaide the words that never can be for- 
 gotten. They were playing " the shy widow," 
 a favourite Christmas game in Lancashire, and 
 when it came to Adelaide's turn to person- 
 ate the "widow," she remembered how she 
 blushed when Alfred took up the cushion and 
 essayed to win her favour. She remembered 
 to the number of buttons what a beautiful 
 waistcoat he then wore ; what a pretty neck- 
 tie, tied a la Byron ; the turn-down collar, 
 too, that looked so straight and smooth, and 
 the handkerchief of which he made a curtain 
 to hide their foces from view, as he took the 
 offered kiss, and in return whispered — " Ade- 
 laide^ I love you ! '^ 
 
 What delightful evenings they had spent
 
 IRKD.VLE. 303 
 
 in eacli other's company since that meeting ! 
 How she had watched Winter break up his 
 icy reign, and Spring come revelUng in with 
 flowers and sunshine. How she had watched 
 the hedges and trees thicken with leaves until 
 the blossoms came, and shed a fragrance 
 around that seemed to partake of Love's own 
 breath. Since then the Grange had been to 
 her as the gilded mosques of Oriental splen- 
 dour, — shining in the eastern light like the 
 crowns and trumpets of angels set in some 
 purple cloud in the Anchorite's dreams of 
 heaven : its gardens the " Golden Valley of 
 Sweet Waters," through which, in soft deli- 
 cious murmurs, pleasures flowed, fed by never- 
 faihng fountains. But now the charm was 
 broken; the golden towers of her heart's 
 dream were wrapped in a sickly film, and the 
 sweet waters murmured no longer. 
 
 Thus had Adelaide Wilson lived the short 
 day of her first love. First love ? There is 
 no second. Could she have loved again with 
 that genuine passion which her heart had 
 known, and still struggled to retain, she
 
 304 IRKDALE. 
 
 might have bestowed it on one whose devotion 
 towards her held no conditions. Had sick- 
 ness come and ravaged her beauty ; had her 
 eye grown less bright, her cheek become pale, 
 her form wasted, Dick Robinson would have 
 bestowed upon her that species of adoration 
 which only the pure in heart can offer. 
 
 Who can foretell as Time moves on, and, 
 like the constant footstep on the sculptured 
 slab, wears out all traces of the name that is 
 held " in aifectionate remembrance," the heart 
 may yield up some corner of its domain, in 
 which another image may be suffered to take 
 up its abode ? If we love no more, we may 
 be passive to another's love ; and even feel a 
 softened pleasure in ministering to the happi- 
 ness of those to whom our existence seems the 
 only tie that binds to earth. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 JOHN GUILDS AND SON, rniNTEHS.
 
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