taken up concerning it, to the neglect of my more immediate business.
After commencing in the wholesale line, I found it impossible to abide
by my original rule of--no credit; and, during my frequent absence from
my warehouse, my salesman had admitted the names of men into my books of
whom I knew nothing, but whom I afterwards learned were not to be
trusted. Their payments were not forthcoming in the proper season; and,
in looking after them, I put off insuring the mill at the time I
intended. Delay, sir, is a curse to a person in business; it is as
dangerous as the blandishments of a harlot to the young--and so I found
it. On the very night that the machinery and everything was completed, I
allowed the spinners and others that I had engaged, to have a supper and
dance in it wi' their wives and sweethearts. I keepit them company for
an hour mysel, and very merry they were. But, after charging them all to
keep sober and harmonious one with another, and to see that they locked
the doors behind them when they broke up, and to leave everything right,
I wished them good-night; and they drank my health, and gave me three
cheers as I left them. I got into my gig, and drove home to Manchester.
But I dinna think I had been three hours in bed, when Priscilla gied me
a dunch with her elbow, and, says she--
"Waken, Reuben! waken!--there's an unco knocking at the street-door."
"Hoot! it will be some drunk body passing," says I, and turned round on
my side to compose myself to sleep again.
But the knock, knocking, continued louder and louder.
"That is nae drunk body," said Priscilla; "something has happened."
I started owre the bed, and I was hardly half-dressed, when I heard the
street-door open, and the servant lass come fleein up the stair.
"What is it?" cried I.
"Oh, sir--the mill!--the mill!" said she.
Had she shot me, she could not have rendered me more stupefied.
"What about the mill?" cries I, all shaking with agitation.
"Oh, it's on fire--it's on fire!" replied the lassie.
I heard Priscilla scream, "On fire!" and she also sprung to the floor.
I cannot tell ye how I threw on my coat--I know that I banged out
without a napkin about my neck, and, rushing down the stairs, I couldna
even stop to get the horse from the stable and saddled, but away I flew
upon my feet. If ever a man ran as if for his life, it was me that
night. It was six miles to the mill, but I never slacked for a single
moment. I didna even discover, though the stones were cutting my feet,
that I had come away without my shoes. The mill absorbed both thought
and sense--I was dead to everything else. But oh, upon reaching it, what
a sight presented itself to my view! There was the great red flames
roaring and raging up the height of its five storeys; and the very
wheels of the machinery, seen through the windows, glowing as bright as
when in the hands of the smith that formed them. The great suffocating
clouds of smoke came rolling about me, and even blinding me. Hundreds of
women ran about screaming, some carrying water, and some running in the
way of others, and drunken men staggered to and fro, like lost spirits
in the midst of their tortures. Oh, sir, it was an awful sight for any
one to behold; but for me to witness it was terrible! For some minutes I
was bereft of both speech and reason; and, had the spectators not held
me back, I would have rushed into the middle of the flames. Crash after
crash, the newly-erected walls and the floors fell in, and I was a
helpless spectator of the destruction of my own property. In one night,
yea, in one hour, more than half of the fortune that I had struggled
for years to gather together, was swept, as by a whirlwind, from off the
face of the earth!
I stood till I beheld the edifice that had been the pride of my heart a
mass of smoking ruins, with, I may say, scarce one stone left upon
another. All the manufacturers round about sympathised with me very
sincerely, and one of them drove me back to Manchester in his drosky.
When I entered my own house, I believe I appeared like a person on whom
sentence of death has been passed, as he is removed from the bar, and
led back to his prison.
"Weel, Reuben," asked Priscilla, in her own calm and gentle way, "is the
damage great?"
"Oh, my dear," said I, "there is nothing left but a heap o' ashes!
Nothing! nothing!--we are ruined!"
"No, no," replied she, as quietly as ever, "we arena ruined. The back is
aye made fit for the burden. The Hand that sent the misfortune, as we
think it, upon us, will enable us to bear up against it. Now, just ye
compose yersel, and dinna be angry at what I am gaun to say, but we are
just as rich now as we were three years ago; and, I am sure, Reuben, we
were quite as happy then as we are now. Ye have still a very excellent
business, and a fortune far beyond onything that you and I could ever
expect to possess when we cam thegither. You have your health and I have
mine; and our twa bits o' bairnies are growing up to be a comfort to us
baith. They will ne'er feel the loss o' the cotton-mill, and you and I
ne'er kenned the guid o't. Wherefore, then, should ye grieve? Ye ought
rather to be thankfu that it is nane o' your family that is taen frae
ye. And, I have nae doubt that, although we self-wise and shortsighted
mortals canna see it, this visitation will be for the guid o' us a'. It
is better that ye should lose the mill than forget your Maker; and,
forgie me for saying it, but I feared it was setting your heart upon the
things o' this world to a degree which did not become the faither o' a
Christian family. Therefore, let me entreat you to say, 'His will be
done,' and to believe that this has fallen upon you for the best. Our
loss is not so great but that, if times keep good, we may soon o'ercome
it."
I had often experienced the value of my wife, and admired her meek,
patient spirit and affectionate heart; but I never, until this trial
came upon me, knew her real worth. She enabled me to begin the world;
ay, sir, and this far she had guided me through it. She was better than
twelve years older than me--but what of that? She looked as young like
at forty as ever I saw another woman do at twenty; and now, when she has
been my wife for thirty years, I hardly ken her aulder. A glaiket
lassie, under such circumstances, might have wrung her hands, and
upbraided me for allowing the supper and the dance; but Priscilla strove
only to comfort me, to imbue my mind with fortitude, and to turn the
accident to my eternal advantage. I had long loved and esteemed her, but
I now reverenced her.
I sat and I listened to her, and looked in her face for the space of ten
minutes, without speaking a word; and, at last, fairly overpowered wi'
her gentleness and her tenderness, I rose and took her hand; and
"Priscilla," says I, "for your sake, dear, I will think no more about
the matter. The mill is destroyed; but, as you say, we may overcome the
loss--and I shall try."
Though I have as keen feelings as onybody, I was not a person to sit
down long, and croon and shake my head over misfortunes that couldna be
helped. I might be driven back from an object, and defeated in
accomplishing it; but it would be necessary to take my life before I
could be made to relinquish my attempts, or to conquer me. Perseverance,
and a restless, ambitious spirit of enterprise, spurred me on.
I endeavoured to extend my business more widely than ever; and, as I had
sometimes had losses with houses on the Continent, I resolved to visit
France, and Germany, and other places, myself, and see in what situation
the land lay. I did so; and in Holland and Switzerland in particular I
entered into what proved some very profitable speculations. Now, sir, it
is my conviction, that where there is no speculation, there can be no
luck. As well might a man with his hands in his pockets expect a guinea
to drop into them. People who, perhaps, have been born with a silver
spoon in their mouths, or had enough to purchase them a hot joint every
day, thrust upon them by accident, will tell you, in speaking of any
particular subject, "Oh, I will have nothing to do with it--it is only a
speculation." Now, sir, but for some speculation that had been entered
into before they were, the one would have neither had the silver spoon
in his teeth, nor the other the hot joint. Without speculation, commerce
could not exist. In the community where its spirit is not felt, they
must be dull as horses in a ring; moving round and round as regularly
and as monotonously as the wheels of a machine, to procure the every-day
bread and cheese of existence. I have been a speculator all my life--I
am a speculator still. Neither you nor I have time for me to enter into
the particulars of thirty years' enterprises. It is true I have lost by
some, but in more I have been successful, or until this day I would have
been a hand-loom weaver in this my native town of Galashiels.
But, sir, within three years I had built another mill. I commenced
manufacturer, and prospered; and, in a short time, I began the business
of printer also. You understand me--it is a calico-printer I mean, not a
book or newspaper printer; for if, in a town in Lancashire, you ask for
a printer, nobody would think of showing you to a consumer of ink and
paper.
Our two daughters had been educated at a boarding-school in Yorkshire;
but they were now come home, and were, I may say, women grown, for they
were eighteen; and, although I say it, that, perhaps, ought not to say
it, remarkably fine-looking young women they were. People said that
Elizabeth was a perfect picture; though, so far as I could judge, Rachel
was the bonniest of the two; but they were remarkably like each other.
There, however, was this difference between them--Rachel was of a sedate
and serious disposition, and very plain in her dress, even plainer,
sometimes, than I wished to see her; but she was always so neat, that
she set whatever she put on. Elizabeth, on the other hand, though a
kind-hearted lassie, was more thoughtless, and more given to the
vanities of this world. When her sister was at her books, she was at her
looking-glass. She was as fond of dress as Rachel was the reverse. I
have often said to her--
"O Bessy! Bessy!--dress will turn your head some day or other. Ye will
frighten ony man from having ye."
"Don't be afraid of that, father," she replied, laughing, for there was
no putting her out of temper--she was like her mother in that--"there is
no danger, and it is time enough yet."
She was also excessively fond of amusements--such as balls, concerts,
plays, and parties; much fonder, indeed, than it was agreeable for me or
her mother to observe. And we frequently expostulated with her; for,
though we did not wish to debar her entirely from such amusements, yet
there is a medium to be observed in all things, and we did not like to
see her going beyond that medium.
Well, sir, she had been at a party one night in Mosley Street, and a
young gentleman, who, I afterwards understood, had shown her a great
deal of attention throughout the evening, saw her home. There was no
harm in this; but he called again the next day, and, as I shortly after
learned, every day. So, when I heard this, I thought it was right and
proper that I should see him, and learn who and what he was. I
accordingly stopped at home a forenoon for the express purpose, but not
much, as I easily observed, to the satisfaction of Elizabeth. About
eleven o'clock the gentleman came as usual. I easily saw that he was
rather taken aback on perceiving me; but he recovered his
self-possession as quick as the eyelids can twinkle, and perfectly
confused me with his superabundance of bows and scrapes. I did not like
his appearance. He was dressed like a perfect fop. He wore silk
stockings, and his feet were wedged into bits of French-soled pumps,
which, to my eye, made it perfectly painful to look on them. He had on a
light green, very fine, and very fashionable coat and trousers, with a
pure white waistcoat, and a riband about his neck. He also carried a
cane with an image on the head o't; and he had a great bunch of black
curls on each side of his head, which, I verily believe, were pomatumed,
brushed, and frizzled.
"I must put an end to your visits, billy," thinks I, before ever he
opened his lips.
He was what some ladies would call "a most agreeable young man." In
fact, I heard one (not my daughter) pronounce him to be "a prodigious
fine gentleman!" "Prodigious!" thought I, when I heard it. He had a
great flow of speech and spirits, and could run over all the scandal of
the town with a flippancy that disgusted me, but delighted many. He
could also talk like a critic about dancers, singers, actors, and
race-horses, and discuss the fashions like a milliner. All this I
ascertained during the half-hour I was in his company. He also gabbled
French and Italian, and played upon a thing like a sort of bass-fiddle
without a bow, that they call a guitar. I at once set him down in my own
mind for a mere fortune-hunter. He was a shallow puppy; he carried all
on the outside of his head, and nothing within it. I found he knew no
more about business than the man in the moon. But he pretended to be the
son of an Honourable, and carried cards with the words, "_Charles
Austin, Esq._," engraved upon them. He was above belonging to any
profession--he was a gentleman at large.
Disgusted as I was with him, I had not the face to rise and say to him,
"Sir, I will thank you to go out of my house, and not to enter it
again." And from the manner in which I had been brought up, I had not
the manner of what is called--bowing a person to the door. But what
vexed me most, while he remained, was to observe that even Priscilla
sometimes laughed at the silly things he said, which, as I afterwards
told her, was just encouraging him. When he left the house, I turned to
Elizabeth, and--
"Now, Betty, hinny," says I, "tak my advice, as yer faither and yer
freend, and ne'er speak to that young man again, nor alloo him to keep
ye company; for, as sure as my name is Reuben, there is something
essentially bad aboot him."
She hung her head, and there was a tear in her ee, and I think for the
first time ever I had observed it in my days, she looked rather sulky;
but I could get no satisfaction from her.
I think it was between two and three months after this--during which
time I had seen and heard no more of the fashionable Charles
Austin--that, having business to transact in Liverpool, I took Priscilla
down with me in the gig, for the benefit of her health. It was in the
summer season, and eleven o'clock had just chimed from the steeple of
the collegiate church before we returned at night. But never, never
shall I forget our miserable home-coming. There was our poor Rachel,
sitting by herself, wringing her hands, and the tears running down her
bonny cheeks.
"Rachel! dear Rachel! what is the matter, love?" cried her mother and
myself at the same instant.
"O Elizabeth!--Elizabeth is away!" sobbed my poor bairn.
Priscilla was stupified, and she repeated the word "Away!" but the
truth broke over me in a moment; and I sank back into a chair, as
helpless, for all the world, as a new-born infant.
Rachel tried to compose herself the best way she could; and she informed
us that her sister had left the house about ten o'clock in the forenoon,
and that she had not since returned. She also mentioned that Elizabeth
had been seen in the company of Charles Austin shortly after leaving the
house; and that, when she did not return in the course of the day,
suspecting that they had fled to Gretna, she had sent my principal
clerk, Thomas Galloway, after them, in a chaise-and-four, to bring back
Elizabeth.
Distressed as I was, I admired the presence of mind which Rachel had
exhibited. She had done all that I could have done myself, had I been at
home; and a fitter person than Thomas Galloway could not have been sent.
His zeal, honesty, and industry, had long rendered him a favourite with
me; and, though he was but a young man, I treated him more as an equal
than a clerk. Nor had I any doubt but in the mission he was sent upon,
he would show as much courage, if such an article were required, as he
had at all times shown zeal and prudence in my service.
But Thomas returned. He had heard nothing of them on the road, and they
had not been at Gretna. These tidings threw us all into deeper
affliction; and a week passed, and we could hear nothing of my daughter,
and our misery increased. But, on the ninth day after her disappearance,
a letter arrived from her. It was dated _Coldstream_. My fears read its
contents before it was opened. In it she poured forth a rhapsody in
praise of her "dear Charles," as she termed him, and said, if we knew
his virtues as well as she knew them, we would love him as she did. She
begged forgiveness for the step she had taken, and sought permission to
return with her husband, and receive mine and her mother's blessing. She
concluded the letter by signing herself our "affectionate and dutiful
daughter, _Elizabeth Austin_."
"_Dutiful!_--the ungrateful, the silly gipsy!" cried I, flinging down
the letter, and trampling it under my feet, in pure madness; "she shall
never inherit a penny of mine--she shall never enter my door. She is
ruined--she has married worthlessness and misery!"
It was some time before Priscilla said anything; but I saw she was very
greatly affected. At last, the mother's love for her offspring got the
better of every other consideration in her heart, and she endeavoured to
soothe me, and to prevail on me to forgive Elizabeth, and to see her
again.
I had intended that the marriage portion of my daughters, on the very
day they became wives, should be ten thousand each, providing that I
approved of the match--though I by no manner of means wished or intended
to direct their choice, or control their affections, further than it was
my duty as a parent to see that they did not throw themselves away. But
I was perfectly persuaded that, to give ten thousand, or the half of it,
or any sum, to such a person as Elizabeth had got, would be no better
than to fling it into the fire.
However, the entreaties and persuasion of Priscilla prevailed. I
consented that Elizabeth should return, and gave her husband five
thousand pounds as her dowery, with a promise of more, if they should
conduct themselves to my satisfaction. He had not received the money
many days when they set out for London.
Some time previous to this, I thought I had observed a sort of
particular kindness between my daughter Rachel and my clerk, Thomas
Galloway, of whom I have already spoken, and to whose worth I have borne
testimony. He was a native of Newton-Stewart, and a young man of humble
parentage, like myself; but I liked him nothing the worse upon that
account; for, in my opinion, there is no real respectability, save that
only which a man purchases through his own merits. Now, I once or twice,
when I went out to enjoy the air in the summer nights, after business
hours, perceived Rachel and Thomas oxtering together along the green
lanes, behind a place in the suburbs that is called Strangeways. Such
was the high opinion that I had of him, that I was determined, if there
was anything between them, to offer no obstacle in the world to their
marriage. I considered that a character, a disposition, and a knowledge
of business, such as Thomas had, were far before riches. But I knew
that, in certain respects, both of the two were such bashful creatures,
that neither of them would dare to mention the matter to me. So, after
their familiarity became every day more apparent, though they tried to
hide it, and when, at different times, I had tried humorously to sound
both of them in vain, I mentioned the subject to Priscilla. I found that
she had perceived it long before me; for women have quick eyes in such
matters. But she said that Rachel was such a strange reserved lassie,
that, though her own bairn, she could not speak to her with a mother's
freedom; though, now that she had heard my mind concerning the match,
she would ask Rachel how matters stood between her and Thomas Galloway
that very day.
She therefore went into the room where Rachel was sitting sewing, and,
after talking about various matters, by way of not just breaking the
matter at once, she said--
"Rachel, dear, are ye aware if your faither has ever made ony sort o'
recompense to Thomas Galloway for his trouble in gaun a' the way to
Gretna after Elizabeth, when the foolish lassie ran away wi' young Mr
Austin?"
"I do not think it," replied Rachel.
"Then," said her mother, "he has not done what he ought to have done.
Indeed, I think he would only be doing his duty if he were to do
something for Thomas; for he is a fine, genteel, deserving lad. Do ye
not think so, dear?"
This was a home-thrust which our bit lassie was not prepared for, and it
brought the vermilion to her cheeks. But, after a moment's hesitation,
she said, though not without a manifest degree of confusion--
"Yes, I think him a very deserving lad."
But her mother had made the first step, and she was not to be put back,
and therefore she continued--
"He is a lad that will rise in the world yet, and he weel deserves it;
for a kinder, or more prudent, and obliging young man, I never saw--and
I am glad, hinny, that ye hae the good sense to think weel o' him."
"Mother!" said Rachel, and her confusion greatly increased.
"Come, love," continued Priscilla, "ye needna blush or conceal onything
frae yer mother. She's a bad mother, indeed, that a daughter daurna
trust wi' a virtuous secret; and I hope ye ne'er saw onything in me,
Rachel, that need debar ye frae making yer feelings known to me. Dinna
suppose, love, that I am sae shortsighted but that I hae observed the
tender affection that has been long springing up between ye; and I have
not only observed it, but I have dune sae wi' satisfaction and pleasure;
for I know not a young man that I could have more credit by in calling
him son-in-law. So look up, dear, and tell me at once, am I not
right--would ye not prefer Thomas to any man ye have seen for your
husband?" And she kindly took our daughter by the hand.
"_Yes_, mother!" faltered my sweet, blushing blossom, and she sank her
head on her mother's breast.
"That is right, hinny," said her mother; "but ye micht hae tauld me
before, and it would hae saved ye baith mony a weary hour o' uneasiness,
I hae nae doobt. But ye shall find nae obstacles in yer way; for it is a
match that will gie baith yer faither and me great satisfaction. He has
observed the attentions o' Thomas to ye as weel as mysel, and spoke to
me concerning it this very hour. Indeed, I may just tell ye, that he
desired me to mention the subject to ye; and if I found that yer
feelings were as we supposed, that the marriage should immediately take
place. And he will also take Thomas into partnership."
Rachel, poor thing, grat with joy when her mother told her what I had
said; and when Thomas heard of it, he could have flung himself at my
feet. The upshot was, that, in a few weeks, they were married, and I
took Thomas into partnership with me, which lifted a great burden off my
shoulders--and more particularly as I had recently entered into a canal
speculation, and become one of the principal shareholders and directors
of the company.
For twelve months from the time that Elizabeth went to London, we had
but two letters from her; and one of them was abusing her sister for
what she termed her "grovelling spirit," in marrying her father's clerk,
and bringing disgrace upon the family. When I saw the letter, my answer
back to her was--
"Elizabeth, my woman, do not forget yourself. Your sister has married a
deserving lad; and your mother married a packman."
As to her husband, I never, in my born days, had a scribble from his
pen. But I heard, from people that had business in London, that they
were flinging away the money I had given them with both hands; and that
Elizabeth, so far from being a check upon her husband's extravagance,
thoughtlessly whirled round with him in the vortex of fashionable
dissipation.