recent general election contest, a working man who occupied the chair,
and prodigal of his _aitches_, in introducing Mr O. L. Clare, Q.C.,
the Conservative candidate, convulsed the audience by strenuously
aspirating the two initials of the honourable candidate's name.
* * * * *
Some illiterate men, again, are fond of using or misusing big words.
They are content, following the example of Mrs Malaprop, that the
sound shall serve just as well as the sense. For example: you will
sometimes hear an old gardener remark that the soil wouldn't be any
the worse of some "manoeuvre." One that I knew used to talk of
"consecrating" the footpaths. He meant concreting.
An old mechanic of my acquaintance, who is learned in the mysteries of
steam raising and steam pressure, is wont to dilate on his favourite
subject, and will persist in holding forth on what he describes as
"Th' expression up o' th' steawm." Truly, a nice "derangement of
epitaphs."
The same, speaking of Lord Roberts' generalship in outflanking the
Boer armies, remarked, "Ay, he's a surprising mon, for sure, is
General Roberts, an' he does it o' wi' his clever tictacs."
And again: "Aw nobbut wish he could get how'd o' owd Krooger, and send
him to keep Cronje company at St Helens."
* * * * *
A confusion of ideas sometimes extends to other subjects. Another
simple friend of mine, relating the treatment he had been subjected to
by a ferocious tramp in a lonely neighbourhood, declared that the
would-be highwayman "Clapped a pistol to mi bally, and swore he'd blow
mi brains out if aw didn't hand over mi money!" Possibly the thief
knew better where his brains lay than my friend did himself.
An equally ludicrous confusion of ideas is shown in the next example.
Owd Pooter, the odd man who tidied up the stable yard and pottered
about the garden, was troubled with a neighbour's hens getting into
the meadow and treading down the young grass. So, speaking to his
master one day, he said,
"Maister, I durn't know what we maun do if thoose hens are to keep
comin' scratt, scrattin' i' th' meadow when they liken; we'st ha'e no
grass woth mentionin."
"Put a notice up," suggested his employer.
"Put a notice up!" responded Pooter, looking as wise as a barn owl.
"Eh! maister, if aw _did_ put a notice up there isn't one hen in a
hundred as could read it!"
Another hen story is worth relating. A poultry farmer calling on a
grocer one day was told by the latter that he must be prepared to give
him more than fourteen eggs for a shilling. "The grocers have had a
meeting," said his customer, "and they have come to the conclusion
that there must be at least sixteen eggs for a shilling." The poultry
farmer listened but said nothing. Next time he called he counted out
his eggs--sixteen for a shilling--but they were all very small--pullet
eggs in fact.
"Hello! what does this mean? How comes it that your eggs are so
small?" asked the grocer.
"Well, yo see," was the reply, "th' hens have had a meetin' and they
have coom to th' conclusion that they connot lay ony bigger than thur
at sixteen for a shillin!" Evidently the shrewd farmer had profited by
the knowledge that the animal creation, as AEsop has taught us, can
hold converse and come to as sensible decisions as their betters.
The same owd Pooter, already mentioned, being much out of sorts,
consulted the doctor on his state of health, who, after hearing his
story and making the necessary examination of the patient, recommended
him to eat plentifully of _animal food_. Pooter, looking somewhat
askance, said he would do his best to follow the doctor's advice, but
he feared his "grinders wur noan o' th' best for food o' that mak."
"Try it for a week," said the doctor, "and then call and see me
again." At the expiration of a week Pooter repeated the visit. "Have
you done what I recommended?" asked the physician. "Aw've done mi
best," replied Pooter, "aw have for sure, an' as lung as aw stuck to
th' oats an' beans, aw geet on meterley; but aw wur gradely lickt when
aw coom to th' choppins!" Pooter's idea of "animal food" was the
horse's diet of oats, beans and choppings.
* * * * *
Among the ridiculous stories that are told, are the three following,
which are more imaginative than true in their details. The fact of
their invention, however, is a proof that the author possessed a
considerable share of happy humour. The old fellow who went to _see_
"Elijah," the Oratorio of that name, on being asked if he had seen the
prophet, replied: "Yea, aw did." "Well, what was he like?" "Wha, he
stood theer at th' back o' th' crowd up o' th' platform, an' he kept
rubbin a stick across his bally, an' he groant, and groant--yo could
yer 'im all o'er th' place!" He took the double-bass 'cello-player to
be Elijah.
* * * * *
The Wardens of the church at Belmont determined to move the structure
a few yards to make room for a gravel path, so, laying their coats on
the ground to mark the exact distance, they went round to the opposite
side and pushed with all their might. Whilst they were thus engaged a
thief stole the coats. Coming back again to observe the effect of
their exertions, and being unable to find their stolen garments,
"Devilskins!" they exclaimed, "we have pushed too far!"
* * * * *
Mother, to her hopeful son standing at the door one night:
"Come in an' shut th' door, John, what ar't doin' theer?"
"Aw'm lookin' at th' moon."
"Lookin' at th' moon! Come in aw tell thae, an' let th' moon alone."
"Who's touching th' moon?"
* * * * *
The Municipal Authorities of a Lancashire town, in laying out a public
park which had been presented by a wealthy citizen, added to its other
attractions a large ornamental lake, formed by damming up a stream
that ran through the grounds. One of the park committee, in the
course of a speech extolling the beauty of the lake, suggested that
they might put a gondola upon it. Another of his confreres on the
Council, thinking that a swan or other aquatic fowl was meant,
responded: "What's th' use o' having only one gondola? let's ha' two
and then they con breed."
As likely as not this was a stroke of wit rather than a blunder.
* * * * *
In Lancashire, as is well known, there are hosts of what are popularly
designated "Co-op. Mills"--cotton factories worked on the joint stock
principle--and many of the mill-hands hold shares, more or less. The
manager of one of these one day encountered a mill-hand "larking" on
the stairs instead of attending to his work, and giving him a kick
behind ordered him off to his room. The culprit turned round, and,
rubbing the affected part, faced the manager with the expostulation,
half comic, half serious: "Keep thi foot to thi sel' and mind what
tha'rt doing; dos't know 'at aw'm one o' thy maisters?"
He held a five-pound share or two in the concern.
A praiseworthy devotion to their employer's interests is a marked
feature in many of our Lancashire working-men; and this devotion is
all the more valuable when accompanied with intelligent observation
and the quality of saying the right thing at the right moment. My next
story exemplifies this in a striking degree.
Jim Shackleton, better known by the nickname of "Jamie-go-deeper," was
a sturdy Lancashire ganger, honest and shrewd as they make 'em, a hard
and steady worker--faithful and staunch and true to his employers. In
his younger days Jim had wielded the pick and spade and trundled the
wheel-barrow, but at the time of which I speak he was the boss or
ganger over a regiment of navvies. He used to speak of puddle and clay
and earthwork as though he loved them.
Jim was employed on the Manchester Ship Canal when it was in course of
construction--down below Latchford Locks. The Company, as is well
known, had in several places to trench on private property, which had
to be purchased from the owners either by agreement or on arbitration
terms, and some of the owners, not over-scrupulous, valued their lands
at fabulous sums, on account, as was asserted, of their prospective
value, as being favourably situated for building purposes, or because,
as was alleged, of the valuable minerals in the ground. One such claim
was being contested and there were the usual arbitrators, umpire and
counsel, with a host of expert valuers on each side. The owner in this
instance claimed that there was a valuable seam of coal underneath,
and he had set men to make borings on the pretence of finding it.
Jim, who was employed, as I have said, by the Canal Company, had been
subpoenaed by the owner of the land in question with a view of
making him declare that he had seen this boring for coal going on in a
field which he had to cross daily in going to and coming from his
lodgings in the neighbourhood. Counsel is questioning Jim after being
sworn:
"Your name is James Shackleton?"
"For onything aw know it is," replied Jim.
"And you are employed as a ganger on this section of the Canal?"
"Aw believe aw am."
"And you lodge over here?" pointing to a group of cottages shown on a
map of the particular locality.
"Aw do," answered Jim.
"And you cross this field" (again pointing to the map) "daily--two or
three times a day--going to and coming from your work?"
"Yea," was Jim's reply.
"And in going and coming you have, of course, seen men engaged in
boring for coal?"
"Noa aw haven't," said Jim in reply, shaking his head.
"You have not seen men boring for coal in this particular field?"
(again pointing out the place on the map).
"Noa!" said Jim, stolidly.
"And yet you live here, and pass and repass this field several times a
day!"
"Yea aw do."
"And you actually tell me that you have never seen workmen boring for
coal in this field?"
"Aw do," said Jim.
"Now, on your oath, be careful--have you not seen men engaged in
making borings in this field?"
"Oh! ay," replied Jim, "Aw've seed 'em boring."
Counsel smiled triumphantly, stretched himself up, and looked round
the Court and towards the umpire with a self-satisfied air.
"You _have_ seen them boring for coal, then?"
"Noa," responded Jim with an imperturbable face.
Counsel fumed. "You have not seen them boring for coal!" (shaking his
finger at Jim).
"Noa, not for coal. Aw _have_ seen 'em boring."
"Then what the d----l _were_ they boring for?"
"They wur boring for compensation!"
That was sufficient. Jim had landed his salmon, and there was a shout
of laughter in the Court as the discomfited counsel resumed his seat.
Jim was troubled with no more questions. His last answer put the value
of the land on its true basis. Humour is a wonderful lever in aiding
the accomplishment of one's purpose. If Jim had bluntly expressed his
opinion at the outset that this was a case of attempted imposition,
the opinion would only have been taken for what it was worth, and the
result might have been very different. The imperturbable way in which
he led the learned counsel up to the climax, which, when reached,
rendered further argument superfluous, was of the drollest.
* * * * *
The Lancashire man abroad does not lose his individuality. He is not
great as a philosopher, and therefore has a wholesome contempt of
foreigners. The world is not _his_ parish as it might be if peopled by
his own kith and kin. This insular prejudice against the foreigner on
the part of our working men is exemplified by a circumstance which
occurred in my own experience.
When I was engaged in certain engineering work in Brazil, I got out
from Lancashire three skilled men to carry out a contract that I had
in hand. They had been in that country a few weeks, when I asked one
of them how he liked the place.
"Oh, tidy well," replied he, "it wouldn't be a bad place at all if
there weren't so many d----d foreigners about!"
Not for a moment recognising the fact that it was _he_ who was the
foreigner, and not the natives whom he affected to despise: a trait in
our character which I fear is not confined to the lower classes,
whether in Lancashire or elsewhere, in England.
* * * * *
The ludicrous situation in which Ben Brierley was one day placed was
related to me by Ben himself. One Saturday afternoon Ben was passing
along Piccadilly (Manchester) on the Infirmary side, and seeing an old
woman with a basket of fine oranges before her--three for
twopence--Ben selected three for which he tendered a shilling, having
no smaller coin. The old orange-vendor was unable to change it, but,
unwilling to lose a customer, she whipped up the shilling, saying:
"Howd on a bit, maister, and tent my basket while I goo get change."
Before Ben could expostulate--and, indeed, before he could realise the
position--she was off to seek change for the shilling. For full five
minutes Ben had to stand guard behind the basket. If he had not done
so, its contents would quickly have been purloined by some of the
mischievous lads always hanging about the Infirmary flags. Ben
declared that during the interval, which seemed an age, he never
before felt so ridiculous and queer. The street was thronged with foot
passengers, but fortunately none seemed to recognise "Ab o' th' Yate,"
though several stared hard at the respectable-looking orange-vendor.
* * * * *
In the _Cornhill Magazine_ (for Feb. 1899) the following examples are
given of the "Humours of School Inspection."
"A pupil teacher in a Lancashire school was asked to describe the way
in which he had spent his Easter holidays. This was the answer: 'At
Easter I and a companion went to Knot Mill Fair. We did not take much
account of the show except for the marionettes and wild beasts. But we
much preferred the latter, _in cages_, for we were thus enabled to
study the works of God, without the danger of being torn in pieces!'"
"Here," says the writer, "the Lancashire shrewdness is finely
illustrated."
And here, from the same source, is an instance of the total
annihilation of a smart young Inspector by some intelligent infants in
another Lancashire school. H.M.I. was examining the six-year-olds in
object lessons before the Vicar and his lively daughter, thus:--
_H.M.I._ What is this made of (producing a penny)?
_Children._ Copper.
_H.M.I._ No, children, you are mistaken; it is made of bronze, which
is a mixture of tin and copper. Now, what is it made of?
_Children._ Bronze.
_H.M.I._ And this? (showing a sixpence).
_Children._ Silver.
_H.M.I._ Quite right; and this? (fumbling for a half-sovereign, but on
failing to find it, rashly flourishing his seal ring in their faces).
_Children_ (to the infinite amusement of the Vicar's daughter). Brass!
_H.M.I._ My dear children, no! It's gold. Look more closely at it,
now--yes, you may hand it round. Now what use do you think I have for
this ring?
_Little Girl._ Please, Sir, to be married with. (Vicar's daughter
convulsed in the corner.)
_H.M.I._ No, no! _Men_ don't wear wedding rings. But when your father
seals a letter what does he do it with?
_Little boy_ (briskly). Please, sir, a brass farden.
Another good school story is told by the late Rev. Robert Lamb,
already quoted.
This was also a school examination, and the particular topic the
Apostles' Creed. I may venture to repeat the story without being
charged with irreverence, considering that it is told by a clergyman.
The boys in the class had evidently been drilled in the subject for
some days previously, and each of them had his own special portion to
repeat as his turn came.
"By whom was He conceived?" the Examiner asked from the book.
"He was conceived by the Holy Ghost," was the ready answer.
"Of whom was He born?" was the question to the next boy.
"He was born of the Virgin Mary," responded the youth boldly.
"Under whom did He suffer?" was the question addressed to the third in
order.
"He was crucified, dead and buried," said the boy in a whining,
hesitating tone, as if conscious that all was not right.
"No, no! _Under_ whom did He suffer? _By_ whom was he crucified?"
The lad repeated the same words in the same drawling tone. The
question was put a third time, and the same answer returned; when one
of the class, more intelligent than the rest, stepped forward, and,
after a twitch of his frontal lock, and an awkward scrape of the foot,
said, in a tone half supplicatory, half explanatory:
"Please, Sir, Pontius Pilate has getten th' ma-sles!" Meaning, of
course, that the boy who had been crammed to give the answer to that
particular question was laid up at home of the measles.
An exacting critic of the story might be ready to object and say that
it was within the right of the Examiner to put his questions to the
boys in an "order promiscuous." Well, I can only answer that he
didn't; besides, it is not the proper thing to spoil a good story by
captious criticism.
* * * * *
In the earlier days of gas-lighting an old fellow in a Lancashire town
had the new light introduced into his house. It gave great
satisfaction at first, but later the light began to be troublesome by
bobbing up and down, and at times flickering out. Unable to remedy the
defect he sought the gas office and angrily lodged his complaint with
the manager. The latter promised to send a man to have the lights put
in order.
"Yo can do as yo liken," replied the complainant, "but after yon box
(alluding to the gas meter) is empty, we'll ha' no mooar!"
* * * * *
As an example of ready wit, we have the story of Dicky Lobscouse, a
well-known Leyland character, who was brought up before the "Bench"
for being found drunk and incapable. After hearing the officer's
statement, and the culprit having nothing to say for himself, the
Chairman of the Bench pronounced the sentence usual in such
cases--"Five shillings and costs, or a week in Preston gaol."
"Thank yo, yor worship," said Lobscouse, pulling his front hair lock
and then holding out his hand, "aw'll tak' th' five shillin an'
costs."
* * * * *
The factory Doffers of Lancashire are noted for their love of frolic
and mischief. For the information of readers it may be explained that
the Doffers (the "Devil's Own," as they are sometimes called) are lads
employed in the throstle room of the cotton factory. Their work
consists in removing the full bobbins of yarn from the spinning
frame--hence the name "Doffer," _i.e._ to doff or divest--and
supplying their places with empty bobbins to receive the yarn as it is
spun. This they accomplish with a dexterity that beats conjuring. For
a stranger visiting a cotton mill there is no greater treat than to
see the Doffers at work.
When the process of doffing is being performed the machine is stopped,
so, to stimulate the boys to greater rapidity at their work and thus
increase the productiveness of the machinery, they are allowed to
spend the intervals between the several doffings in exercise out of
doors, or in any other way they choose, always provided they do not go
beyond ear-shot of the "throstle jobber," who is a kind of "bo's'n" in
this department of the mill, and who summonses them with a whistle to
their work as often as they are required. The quicker their duties are
performed, the more time they have to themselves, hence the amount of
leisure and liberty the lads enjoy.
It has been suggested that the Doffers are the missing link
desiderated by Darwin; and, judged by their mischievous pranks, one
might almost be led to conclude that such is the fact, for they are
equally dexterous at mischief as at work. Their working dexterity is,
for the nonce, carried into their play.
I was an eye-witness of a practical joke played by a band of Doffers
upon an unsuspecting carter. He had got a cart-load of coals which he
was leisurely conveying to their destination along one of the
bye-streets; and having occasion to call at a house on the way, he
left his horse and cart standing by the road side. A swarm of Doffers
from a neighbouring factory espied the situation, laid their heads
together for a moment or two, and then came running stealthily up to
the cart, undid all the gears save what barely supported the cart from
dropping so long as the horse remained fairly quiet. Having completed
their arrangements they as quietly retired, and took their stand at a
cautious distance behind the gable-end of a house, whence in safety
they could reconnoitre the enemy. It was an enjoyable picture to me
who was in the secret, and for very mischief kept it, to see half a
score of little, greasy, grinning faces peeping from past the house
end, expectation beaming from every wicked eye.
The unwitting carter at length reappeared, and, giving a brisk crack
of his whip, had scarce got the "awe woy" from his lips, when Dobbin,
laying his shoulders to his work, ran forward with an involuntary
trot for ten or fifteen yards, whilst the cart shafts came with sudden
shock to the ground, and a row of cobs that had barricaded the smaller
coal flew shuttering over the cart head into the street. Fortunately
no damage resulted--the shafts by a miracle stood the shock.
The amazement of the victim of the trick may be imagined but scarcely
described. He gazed with open mouth at the catastrophe, and his
fingers naturally found their way to his cranium, which he scratched
in perplexity. The knot of jubilant faces at the street corner in the
distance soon supplied the key to his difficulty. The truth flashed
upon his mind. "Devilskins!" he muttered, and seizing one of the
biggest cobs he could grasp in his hand, he let fly at vacancy; for
before you might say "Jack Robinson," the mischievous elves had
vanished with a war-whoop, and ere the missile had reached the ground,
were probably knee deep in their next adventurous exploit.
* * * * *
In the Rossendale district, with which I was acquainted for many
years, I knew some of the quaint old inhabitants, long since passed
away, whose remarks, as well as their reminiscences recounted to me,
interested and amused me, and some of which I have tried to recall.
Bull baiting was formerly a common sport in Rossendale as in other
parts of the country. A stake was fixed in the centre of the baiting
ground, to which the bull was tethered by a rope, when its canine
tormentors were let loose upon it amidst the yelling of a brutalised
mob. I once, curiously enough, in my own experience, met with an
example of the actual memory of the pastime having survived to a
recent date. An old Rossendale man one day attended a camp-meeting
held in a field at Sharneyford some distance away, and on afterwards
inquiring if he got to the meeting in time, "Yea," was the reply, "I
geet theer just as they wur teein' th' bull to th' stake." Meaning
that the preacher was just about opening the services. Rossendale was
by no means singular in its relish for the degrading practice. The
late John Harland, in his introduction to the "Manchester Court Leet
Records," recounts the fact that in Manchester in former times,
amongst the heaviest fines, or, as they were called, "amercements," on
the butchers, were those for selling bull beef, the bull not having
been previously baited to make the flesh tender enough for human food!
A significant commentary this on the morals and civilisation of our
forefathers.
To the introduction of water and steampower machinery in the earlier
part of the century, there were no stronger or more bitter opponents
than the Rossendale folks. In the early days, in many of the larger
houses were hand machines for the carding, spinning and weaving of
wool, whilst nearly every one of the smaller houses had its hand-loom.
When the factory system began to be introduced into the district, and
water-power was employed in turning the machinery, the strong
prejudices of the inhabitants found vent in a form of prayer which, in
seasons of drought, ran thus:
"The Lord send rain to till the ground, but not to turn the engines
round."
The woollen carding engines are here referred to, these being put in
motion by the water-wheel.
But times of extreme drought in Rossendale are not of frequent
occurrence. The hills bring down the rain, and in the "Barley times,"
as the famine times at the beginning of the century were called, the
people had a saying that there was "plenty of porridge wayter in
Rossendale, if there was only the meal to put into it."
* * * * *