Adventures and Recollections. Bill o'th' Hoylus End

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СКАЧАТЬ 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

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      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

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ