TO THE STAGE AGAIN
Notwithstanding the kindness which I received at the mill, I could not
settle down. I had a strong inclination to get out into the world and see
something. My ambition again returned to the stage. I began to visit
travelling theatres which came to Keighley, staying in Townfield Gate. I
joined an amateur dramatic society, composed of Keighley people. The
names of the members were:--Arthur Bland, John Spencer, William Binns,
Mark Tetley, Thomas Smith, Thomas Kay--all of whom, I believe are
dead--and Joshua Robinson, James Lister, Sam Moore and myself. There were
also a number of females, who must be all dead by this time. We had
weekly Saturday night performances in an old barn in Queen-street, which
is now used as a warehouse by Messrs W. Laycock & Sons, curriers. After a
short course of training in the society, Arthur Bland, John Spencer, and
myself became rather--ambitious I suppose I shall have to call it--and
joined the profession altogether. I should be about sixteen years old;
and I was about the youngest member in the company. My companions and I
joined Wild's Travelling Dramatic company. I was called the "juvenile,"
owing to the fact that I was the youngest member of the company. We
fulfilled engagements at Bradford, Halifax, Dewsbury, Keighley, and other
towns in the district. I considered (myself) that I made a "rare fist" at
acting, but the advice was unsympathisingly hurled at me--"Come home to
your parents and start afresh." Well, I took the advice, and went home to
my parents. I often think it was very good of them to allow their errant
son to come home as often as they did. I returned to my position as a
warpdresser at Lund's mill, being about eighteen years old at the time.
Things went on very peaceably and agreeably for another little while, but
I--just verging on the age of manhood--again felt a strong desire to go
out into the world.
OH! FOR A SAILOR'S LIFE!
I had been reading a book about the life of a sailor--how nice it is to
_read_ about a sailor's life!--and got the idea that I should like to be
a sailor. So, one morning I got up betimes, when lazy people were snoring
between the blankets. I clad myself in my best suit--one of splendid
black, put on my watch, provided myself with plenty of money--my parents
were not badly off--and started in search of a sailor's life. It didn't
look like a very good beginning, did it? I tramped to Leeds, and there I
had the--misfortune, I may safely say, to fall in with some of my
thespian friends. They very willingly helped me to spend my money, so
that when I left Leeds I had scarcely a penny in my pocket. But it was,
perhaps, all for the best, as things turned. I walked to Goole, and from
there to Hull. I lingered about the docks for some time, and then I fell
in with the skipper of a vessel who was looking out for an addition to
his crew. He asked me who I was. I, of course, told him and said I should
like to be a sailor. He smiled when I said that, and said I looked more
like a tailor than a sailor. But, then, I have said all along that
appearances are deceptive, and that it isn't always wise to rely on the
label of the bag. It was simply a matter of taste with the skipper: he
saw in me a nice chance of a suit of good clothes, &c., if nothing else.
He questioned me: "would you run away if I took you on? You know some of
you get tired of the first voyage." I assured him that _I_ wouldn't run
away, what other boys did. Whereupon it came to pass that he said that I
was a likely young fellow, and I was engaged--I mean to the skipper, of
course. I had to say a fond "Good-bye!" to my suit of black, watch, and
other articles, and bedeck myself in a canvas suit, with red shirt, belt,
and oil-skin cap. The name of the vessel was "The Greyhound," and "The
Greyhound" was laden with prepared stone and bound from Hull to London.
We started. The voyage was a very rough one, and I was very, very sick
the first day. I often think of my first day's sailoring; I do that, I
do. I was put to all manner of drudgery, such as scrubbing the decks. The
cooking for the crew also fell into my hands; there were about a dozen of
us. Fortunately, I had no need to complain of the lack of food. There was
plenty of salt pork and biscuits; but, then, biscuits and salt pork and
salt pork and biscuits have a tendency to become a little monotonous to
the palate. I got very roughly handled by the crew. The voyage to London
occupied about six days. We stayed at the English capital about a
fortnight, in order to exchange our cargo for one of goods suitable for
the Hull trade. Even while we were moored in the Thames, I was very
anxious to make my escape, but a too close watch was kept over me. We
started on the home journey, during which I was not affected by sea
sickness.
LONGING FOR HOME AGAIN
I determined that as soon as ever I got into Hull I would make straight
for Keighley. Many a time on the vessel did I think of Mrs Hemans's
beautiful poem "There's no place like home." I shall never forget, I
think, the feelings of ecstacy with which I was seized on the vessel
sailing into the port of Hull. It was four o' clock on a cold, dreary
December afternoon, and I could not help but cry as, going on the quay, I
heard an organ grinder giving off the strains "Home, Sweet Home!"
Of all the spots on earth to me
Is Home, Sweet Home.
And that dear spot I long to see--
My Home, Sweet Home.
Where joyfully relations meet,
Where neighbours do each other greet.
If ought on earth there can be sweet,
'Tis Home, Sweet Home.
It seemed to me as if my father and mother were calling their prodigal
son home. I straightened myself up, and says: "Here goes for Keighley,
without a ha'penny in my pocket:" the skipper was not by any means
kind-hearted, and did not give me even an "honorarium." But my troubles
were not by any means past and gone: many who read these lines will, I
trow, know what it is to tramp a long distance with a purse, as Carlyle
said, "so flabby that it could scarcely be thrown against the wind." My
trudge from Hull to Bradford seemed beset with thorny places.
TRAMPING AND ADVENTURING
Leaving Hull, I walked all night in stormy, winterly weather, and before
morning I was on the near bank of Howden Dyke. There was a ferry at the
dyke, and, not having the wherewithal to pay the toll, I had to stay
where I was--about three miles from Goole. As I afterwards learned, I had
gone about eight miles out of the right road. I loitered about for a
short time. Then a farmer, with a horse and cart, chanced to come along.
I unfolded my tale to him, and he took pity on me; he said he was allowed
to take a man with his horse and cart, besides himself, and I could go
over as _the_ man. And in this way I crossed over on the ferry, which was
a sort of raft. When I got into Howden--it was now early morning--it
turned out to be the Fair Day. So I wended my way into the fair-ground,
thinking that possibly I might meet with some of my former theatrical
acquaintances at some of the shows. But I was a doomed man: there were
none. There was any number of wild beast shows, fat women shows, art
galleries, pea saloons, with the ubiquitous Aunt Sarah, but of "mumming"
shows there were none. When I was in this low pitch of despondency, a
flashly-clad individual walked up to me and asked me _what_ I was. Being
a truthful sort of a lad, if nothing else, I told him I was "all sorts,"
but had been doing a "bit o' sailoring" last. He said he kept a boxing
show, and asked if I had done anything in the noble defence line. I had
to confess that I had done a little at home, with towels round my hands.
"Oh (says he) I'll teach you how to box in twenty minutes. I'll introduce
you to the public, and if there is any big farmer to tackle _I'll_ tackle
him; and I have got a little black man who will stand up for you. I want
a man to p'rade outside the show, you know, and you look a likely
fellow." After this magnificent speech, how could I but take the job? I
did so. Seeing that I had not been over-fed lately, he treated me to a
loaf and coffee: that these were welcome I need hardly chronicle; they
were decidedly welcome. After a good night's sleep, the next day I was
dressed for the occasion. The fair-ground was thronged with people from
far and near. A big crowd collected in front of _our_ show. I p'raded on
the platform outside the show, and the proprietor announced that I was a
champion boxer, and that I would "set to" with any man in the whole fair!
Some men would have felt honoured at this, but I didn't. The announcement
fairly made me tremble, and I should have been very thankful to drop
through the boards. But I had to stay where I was. Fortunately nobody
came forward, and the only "set to" I had to have was with the little
black man. The show commenced, and we went inside; of course we had only
exhibition games. One night produced 7s 6d for me. But I had no more
sense than spend my money on a number of showmen who had gathered
together, as was their wont, in a drinking-saloon on the fair-ground
after the night's business. Therefore I was as bad as before. I left the
show, and began my walk to Selby. There were two toll bars on the way, at
which passengers had each a penny to pay to get through. But I hadn't a
penny and at the first "break" the keeper asked me if I had got a "knife
or owt." I couldn't boast the possession of either of these. A
cotton-hawker chanced to come by and he took pity on me and paid my toll.
He reminded me there was another toll-bar about 7 miles further on, and
said he was sorry he could not go forward with me, because he had some
calls to make by the way. Notwithstanding, I trudged on, and when I got
to the second "break" Fortune again smiled upon me; for I came upon a
kind-hearted lady, who, when she became acquainted with my position, gave
me a sixpence. This coin got me to Selby. From Selby I made to York. Late
in the afternoon it began to rain heavily; so I called at a roadside inn
for shelter. In the inn I found seated a company of hunting gentlemen,
wearing their bright apparel. They had evidently been driven inside by
the wet weather. One of them espied me and conducted me into the room.
They chaffed me very much, and one asked me whether I would have a glass
of brandy or sixpence. I said I should prefer the sixpence. He said:
"Well, if you had said the brandy, I should have given you neither; now
you shall have both." And it so happened that I got two things with one
asking. Well, after the shower had ceased I resumed my journey, and
tramped all night. I wanted, and still I did not want, to get home--you
understand me? Next morning I got into York. I had hoped to find a
travelling theatre staying there, but the theatre had the day previously
moved on to Ripon. Then did I determine to try my hand at earning an
honest penny somehow. I had done a little at chalk-drawing. I thought I
might become a street artist; so I accordingly got on to the city wall at
the top of a flight of steps near the Castle. On the pavement, in chalk
and charcoal, I drew bold likenesses of our good lady the Queen and
Prince Albert. I sat there on the wall, waiting for passers-by to throw
me a copper. I had not waited long when a party of ladies and
gentlemen--apparently visitors, like your humble servant--came up. They
surveyed my production; then one of the gentlemen threw me a shilling,
and the rest made a collection which they presented to me, and for which
I thanked them from the bottom of my heart. I did not wait for a second
batch of patrons, but straightway turned my back upon York. I had
abandoned the idea I at one time entertained of going to Ripon, with the
intention of joining the theatrical company there; and the next move was
to get to Bradford. So I walked on to Bradford. I was "fairly jiggered
up" when I got to that town--one Thursday afternoon I recollect it was. I
made up my mind to go to the office of the Keighley firm of Messrs
William Lund & Son, for whom I had done a little work. I was scarcely in
a presentable condition, travel-stained as I was. After some demur I
obtained permission to wash and "tidy" myself at a tavern, and this
carried out, I made for Messrs Lunds' office.
THE PRODIGAL RETURNS HOME
Mr James Lund happened to be there. He was not a little surprised to see
me, and wanted to know all particulars as to my wanderings. I offered an
explanation as best I could. Mr Lund provided me with refreshment, which
I badly needed, and paid my railway fair to Keighley. When I got into
this "Golden Valley of the West Riding," as Keighley has been called, I
had no little difficulty in getting to my home at the North Beck Mills.
My feet were intensely sore with my long tramp, and I could scarcely put
one before the other--which, of course, is a necessary performance if one
wants to walk anywhere. However, I reached home in time--after an absence
of something like nine months. I was received there with all the welcome
it was possible for a prodigal son to be. My mother said she dreamed the
night before I was coming home. I don't exaggerate facts much when I say
there were great rejoicings in the camp at my home-coming. Of course,
with paternal regard, my father wanted to know where I had been, and,
when I had given him a hurried account of my peregrinations, he strongly
recommended me to "jump into a peggytubful o' water an' hev a wesh." I
accordingly executed the order of the bath, and donned a suit of clothes,
which I had left behind me. My father said, "Well, I don't want them to
lose anything by you at Hull;" and with those few, but expressive
remarks, he took my sailor's suit and pitched it into the North
Beck--which ran near by our homestead. I regret I have no proof before me
that the clothes ever reached Hull. But we will let byegones be byegones.
I was put back to warp-dressing at North Beck Mills, where I remained for
a few months.
LOOKING FOR A TRADE
Then my father determined that I should have a trade of some sort. I
began to have a little taste for sculpture in a primitive kind of way,
and I used to smuggle big stones into my bed-chamber, and, when
opportunity offered, try to carve figures, busts, &c., out of them, with
tools which, I must confess, were far from having a razor's edge on them.
My father came to know of my efforts in this line, and he and my mother
held a confab, the result of which was that I was apprenticed to an uncle
of mine, a mason named Joshua Hill, of Harden. I remained at this
business for a fair time and helped my uncle to build Ryecroft Primitive
Methodist Chapel. He gave me every opportunity to become efficient in my
new calling if practice goes for anything. When I pass the chapel at
Ryecroft I look with some amount of pride on the two stoops, enclosing
the door, which I hewed out. After finishing the chapel my uncle Joshua
commenced the erection of a tavern, called the "Moorcock," at Harden. But
in my new situation my pocket-money was very limited. I didn't appreciate
this limitation, and I left the service of my uncle and went to Bingley.
ADVENTURING WITH THE SHOWS
It happened to be the Tide, and going into the Gas Field I fell in with
the proprietor of a travelling theatre, a Frenchman, rejoicing in the
name of "Billy Shanteney." He asked me to join his company, which I
eventually did. At night, before the performance commenced, I paraded on
the platform outside as a gay spangled warrior, and while thus engaged I
was somewhat astonished to behold my uncle Joshua making his way to what
seemed the entrance, but he darted on to me and attempted to drag me, as
he himself said, "back home." However, I didn't go back home, and we went
on with the performance. At the close of the Tide week, the company went
to Idle, and I went with them; and thence to the Bradford Fairground. It
goes without saying that when Bill o'th' Hoylus End was playing as a king
one night and next morning getting a red herring to his breakfast, there
was something radically wrong somewhere. Still I had a hearty reverence
for the "silvery fish," as will be apparent from the sentiments in the
following
ODE TO A HERRING
Wee silvery fish, who nobly braves
The dangers o' the ocean waves,
While monsters from the unknown caves
Make thee their prey,
Escaping which the human knaves
On thee lig way.
No doubt thou was at first designed
To suit the palates of mankind;
Yet as I ponder now, I find
Thy fame is gone,
With dainty dish thou art behind
With every one.
. . . . .
When times are hard we're scant o' cash,
And famine hungry bellies lash
And tripe and trollabobble's trash
Begin to fail--
Asteead o' soups an' oxtail 'ash,
Hail! herring, hail!
Full monny a time 'tas made me groan
To see thee stretched, despised, alone;
While turned-up noses past have gone
O' purse-proud men!
No friends, alas! save some poor one
Fra' t' paddin' can.
. . . . .
If through thy pedigree we peep,
Philosophy from thee can reap,
To me I need not study deep
There's nothing foreign,
For I, like thee, am sold too cheap,
My little herring!