Adventures and Recollections Part 4

and "Jock o' Hazeldean," and they rewarded me with fifteen pence for my efforts, besides treating me to some light refreshment.

THE BAG MYSTERY

But I became anxious to join my travelling companion, whom I had left waiting outside-or who had left me waiting for him. So I bade the company "Adieu!" and quitted the tavern; but loo! my anonymous friend had _vanished_ like a vision from my sight. I searched for him high and low in the "publics" at "the other end of the town," but all in vain.

Meanwhile it had begun to dawn upon me that the stranger wasn't _my_ friend at all. What greatly disheartened me was to know that he had my green bag, containing my stock-in-trade, in his possession wherever he was. This was a great blow to me. Having satisfied myself that he was not in Brighouse I pushed on my journey. I asked each person I met if he had seen a man with a green bag, but none of them seemed to remember having seen either a green bag or a man carrying one of those articles. I now began to think I was truly on my "last legs."

AT WARP-DRESSING AGAIN

But I did not utterly forget the sentiment of Shakespeare-"There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." I stayed the night at a little village called Kirkburton, and the following morning I walked to Clayton West. Here, I found out, a good deal of fancy weaving was carried on; and, looking at my case from all its bearings, I came to the conclusion that it was advisable for me to abandon my theatrical career, for the present at least, and try my hand at warp-dressing again. This was duly resolved upon. Accordingly, I applied at a factory at Clayton West, belonging I believe, to Mr Norton.

I got employment without much trouble: luckily they were in want of a "man o'my sort."

A MINISTERING ANGEL

I started work at noon and worked during the dinner-hour. The first of the hands to return from dinner was a good-looking young wench, a twister-in. She thoughtfully asked if I had had my dinner. Of course I didn't think I had, as it was too far to go home to it. "Oh! but you shall have some dinner" says the big-hearted factory-la.s.s; "for I'll go home and bring you something." "Thank you," said I, and she was gone. But not for long; not many minutes elapsed before she was by my side with a big jug of coffee and a goodly-sized, appetising, real Yorkshire pasty, the size of an oven-tin or thereabouts. I don't want to go into fractions, besides, it isn't at all necessary. Suffice it to say that I presented her with my heart felt thanks.

Bards hev sung the fairest fair, Their rosy cheeks an' auburn hair, The dying lover's deep despair, Their harps hev rung; But useful wimmin's songs are rare, An' seldom sung.

Low is mi lot, and hard mi ways While paddlin' thro' life's stormy days; Yet ah will sing this la.s.s's praise Wi' famous glee.

Tho' rude an' rough sud be mi lays Sho'st la.s.s for me.

As to the repast itself-well I enjoyed that with much warmth, as we sometimes say. Then I resumed the work which had been set out for me, and finished by five o'clock in the afternoon. There I left off until next morning. I had obtained in advance a few shillings to tide me over the night.

CHAPTER V

"T'OTHER LODGER!"

I went in search of lodgings about the village. In the end I came across an old lady, and, after I had had a consultation with her on the above-mentioned subject, she said she could take me in as a lodger if I cared to sleep with another lodger she had-a young butcher: if I was in by eleven o'clock, she a.s.sured me, I should be all right. I accepted her offer. Sometime before eleven o'clock, the "other lodger" came home. He was not by any means what Keighley teetotallers would term a "temperate, upright, law-abiding citizen," for he was as drunk as a pig. When he heard that I was to be his bed-fellow, oh! there was a "shine," and no mistake. He vehemently declared that he'd never "lig" with me; and, under the circ.u.mstances, I sustained his objection, and we parted. Tired and weary as I was I felt that I could well spare all I possessed if only I could get the use of a bed:-

Oh! bed, on thee I first began To be that curious creature-man, To travel thro' this life's short span, By fate's decree, Till ah fulfill great Nature's plan, An' cease ta be.

When worn wi' labour, or wi' pain, Hah of'en ah am glad an' fain To seek thi downy rest again.

Yet heaves mi' breast For wretches in the pelting rain 'At hev no rest.

AMONG THE IRISH

However, the butcher and I parted company. I went back to the tavern I had been resting at, and explained matters to the landlady and her good master. He did not receive me very acceptably, and told me that he "could sleep on a clothes-line this weather." I didn't like to contradict him.

His wife rather pitied me, and said there were half-a-dozen harvesters in the taproom and I might arrange to spend the night with them. Acting on the principle that half-a-loaf is better than no bread, I allowed the landlord to introduce me to the company in the taproom. The company consisted of half-a-dozen Irish harvesters "on the spree." "Can you take this man as a lodger?" asks the landlord. "Oh, yes, if he behaves himself," one readily exclaimed, and another chimed in, "If he doesn't, be jabers! we'll mak' him." I fully ingratiated myself into their good graces for the night by "standing a gallon round." I took part in the general amus.e.m.e.nt, and sang for them the song, "Shan Van Vocht," in Irish Gaelic, until they all swore I was a countryman of theirs. The night wore on with song and clatter, And ah! the ale was growing better.

THE BARN DORMITORY-THE FIRE

Sometime late at night we retired to rest-or to try to rest. The prospective scene of our slumbers was a barn at the back of the tavern.

By the light of a candle we had with us, I saw there was a depth of almost twelve inches of straw on the floor of the barn. One of our lot fixed the candle on a projecting stone in the wall, and I guess it was not long before we were all asleep. I could not have been asleep long, however, when I was awakened by great noise and unbearable heat. On "turning over," I heard groans and shouts, and, by Jove! saw that the barn was on fire! I was dumbfounded for the instant, and scarce knew how to act. Being greatly fatigued by my previous day's journey, I was not over wideawake; I was by no means the first to awake; in fact I believe I was the last. I had taken my coat and boot and slipper off, but there was no time to look for any of my apparel, and when I recovered my senses, I beat a hasty retreat.

MY ESCAPE FROM THE FIRE

It's always a safe plan to look before you leap. I didn't look before I leaped, with the result that jumping through a loophole in the wall at the rear of the barn, I found myself on alighting outside with the star-bespangled firmament above me, and-what do you think under me-I hardly like to say, but nevertheless it was _a manure heap_! I was booked to remain in this-perhaps more healthy than agreeable-predicament for some time; for, despite my struggles to regain liberty of thought and action, I could not extricate myself.

HOW THE PEOPLE RECEIVED ME

Meanwhile, the alarm of fire had been given, and a number of people from the neighbourhood appeared, in response, on the scene. I could not see them, being at the rear of the building, but could hear their shouts. The half-dozen Irishmen, I afterwards learned, all answered the roll-call, but I was missing. On this occasion, if it had never occurred before or since, my absence caused indescribable consternation. Many thought I had been burned to death or killed, for the roof of the barn had fallen in.

After some little time, however, and after much struggling on my part, I was able to allay their fears by appearing before them. It required no small amount of pluck-as I call it-to face them-bootless, coatless, vestless, hatless, penniless, and, withal, with my feet and trousers besmeared with cow dung. But there is a time in every man's life when he shall come to evoke sympathy from his fellows. "He's coming!" they said, "Here he is!" they shouted, and as I pa.s.sed along the ranks I was the object of universal sympathy in my woe-bestricken condition.

A CHATTY, QUIZZY, KINDLY POLICEMAN

A policeman came up to me and said they thought I was in the flames. I rashly told him that I might as well have been, considering my appearance. "Oh, you will get over that," said the gentleman in blue cloth. "Where do you belong to?" I said I was a native of Keighley. "Who is your police superintendent?" he queried. "Mr Cheeseborough," I replied. "That's true," he said. "Know you any in the force there?"

"Yes," I said, "I know Sergeant Kershaw, and another little ill-natured dog, Jack o' Marks. Jack goes about in plainclothes, and is about as fly as a box of monkeys." "All right," returned Mr Policeman. "Now that you have told me the truth, were any of you smoking in the barn?" "No, we were all asleep," said I. Then he said that would do, and as he had no orders to arrest me, I could go-till further orders. I learned from him that Mr Norton-the gentleman for whom I had been working at the mill-owned the barn, but he was away and would not be home that day.

THE RESULT OF THE FIRE

The merciless fiend did its work, and before the arrival of anything worthy the designation "fire extinguishing apparatus," the barn had been razed. A farmhouse joined up to the barn, and a portion of this building, along with some of the furniture, was damaged. The morn was now breaking, and there was the usual gathering of quizzing onlookers. It turned out that I was the last man out of the barn. Some of my bed-fellows, I found, were as guilty as myself in disregarding the force of the proverb "Look before you leap," for one of them, in making his hurried exit, jumped through the first opening he came across to find himself in the stables-"in a manger for his bed." Through the fall he sustained a broken arm. One or two of the others were a little hurt.

CLOTHING THE NAKED

But to return to myself. As I said a short time ago my person carried no other covering than a pair of trousers, and these were almost worse than nothing in their present condition. If my friend Isaac had been about, his second-hand clothes shop (for no "monish") would have come as a boon and a blessing. I didn't ken him, however. But a cloth weaver thoughtfully came up to me and put it to the crowd, "Nah, weear can t'poor beggar goa in a staate like this?" "Aye, aye," says my friend the policeman; "An' if ye hev a heart in yer belly, ye'll get him some clothes, for I'm sure he's spokken t'truth ta me." Upon this "fetching"

speech, several persons in the crowd were observed to leave by the "back way." In a very short time they returned, each bringing some part of a man's wearing apparel. Together, they brought the different items I was _minus_. There were waistcoats and to spare. For this display of kindness to a fellow in distress, I thanked them heartily. Having attired myself, I walked away with the policeman, who proved a true friend to me. He thoughtfully mentioned that if I stayed in the place there was a probability I should be arrested on a charge of "sleeping out." So I took the hint so kindly offered me, and after bidding my friend "Robert" a cordial good-bye, I made my exit from Clayton West.