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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 -W^ibpS'ljft- 4 tamaa LITTLE HODGE BY THE AUTHOR OF '*GINX'S BABY" ■■' 4 • m* NEW YORK DODD & MEAD, No. 762 BROADWAY 1873 AUTHOR'S EDITION, N** !^^> Stereotyped at the WOMEN'S PRINTING HOUSE No. . Misdon P,«e. bet. Park and Worth St,., one blodc ^ of Cent,,. I \ '• ' Nhw York. m\ PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. In the English edition of this story, the conversations of the country-people are written and spelt in the Dorsetshire dialect, i have thought that, in preparing it for American readers, it would be better, while retaining the idiom, to correct the orthography of the dialect, and this is the only difference in the editions published simultaneously in both countries. • . ^ ; The subject of this story is one that may be remote from the knowledge or the sympathies of American readers, yet it will, I hope, be found that its relations and lessons are wider than the subject, and that it possesses a general human interest. The problems of Labor and Capital are not local ; their conditions are much the same everywhere ; and the spirit of the solution herein glanced at will be equally at home in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Ottawa, Somerset, and Dorset. Moreover, I have taken the liberty of bringing Brother Jonathan on the scene, to aid, with his younger and sharper wit, the bucolic and fuddled intellect of old John Bull. ^■---■- '^-/ ' /* , E. J. Catbrham, Surrey, December 7, 187a. . , *» CONTENTS. -:o:- PART I. INTO AND OUT OF THE UNION. CHAPTER it 'AC* I,— A Matter of Life and Death . . . • . I II.— Wasted Grief 4 III. — A Competency . > 7 IV.— The Mockery of Hope . * . . . . . II V. — Parochus in Council | 13 VI. — Focal Government 17 VII. — Local versus Focal 23 PART IL OUT OF ONE UNION INTO ANOTHER. I. — The Rigor of the Impossible 30 II. — Notice before Action 3* IIL— The Church and Social Science • . • • 39 IV The Last Resort • 4^ V. — Sammy Stedman 54 VL— A Curious Bethel 7' VI CONTENTS PART III. UNION AND rUSUNION. CHAPTER I.— The Tournament of Capital and Labor II. — An Inarguable Case III.— The Mushroom Hat on its Defence . IV.— A Noah's Dove . . . v.— A Ukase on British Soil . VI.--Justices» Justice and Statutes at Large FAGB 79 84 88 92 96 98 r PART IV. I ! THE CLIMAX OF DISUNION. li !• — A Welcome Home . II.— The Agonies of Solution III.— An Antidote to Proselytism IV. — Argumentum ad Hominem v.— The Scales of Justice VI.— Alarums.— Excursions . VIL— A Visitor . . VIIL— A Dark December . IX. — The End crowns the Work - • • • • • • • • « . • f • • 107 110 118 121 199 ia6 129 139 141 , CONTENTS. VU PART V. UNIONS AND COMMUNIONS, CHAPTER I. — ^Yankee Intervention II.— A Veiy Dry Chapter III.— Little Pilgrims IV. — A Merry Christmas PAGB 162 165 i63 ITTLE HODGE. PART I. INTO AND OUT OF THE UNION. CHAPTER I. A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH. "Three pounds five ounces and a half," said the Union cook, ringing down the half-ounce on the balance to equalize the scales. In the tin scale on the other side lay on a white clof the minutest piece of living humanity that perhaps ever came into the world. "Well!" said the doctor, "it's the smallest child I ever knew born alive. It's hardly worth the trouble the poor woman has had with it." " Hum ! " said Mr. Mee, the Master of the Union ; " these people thinks nothin' of the trouble and exp ^nse they are to the Parish when they breeds. It's a curis law that provides for keepin' sich chits as that alive now, ain't it?" " Poor little creetur ! " said the nurse, taking up the morsel ) ■•■'■fW!SS>3;:)FV . L ITTI. K nODGE. of humanity from its uncomfortable position in the v/oric- house scales, which had been brought up from the kitchen expressly to test its specific gravity. "It ain't got enough body to keep the life in it, I'm afeard. Its lungs can't be larger than straars, can they, doctor ? " " This child," replied that official, not noticing the defect in Mrs. Gussett's comparative anatomy, and pointing to the wee red carcass, which the nurse was proceeding to envelop in some clothes enormously too big for it ; " this child is strumous. Moreover, it already exhibits a tendency to hy- drocephalus. Its head is as large and weighs nearly as much as the rest of its body. I never saw a human form alive with such legs and arms — lliey are scarcely fit for a good sized cockchafer. In Sparta, now, they >vould have drowned tlii). little animal immediately; or amorg some Indian tribes of North America, Mrs. Gussett, it would have been your duty, when you saw so conspicuous a fliilurc of nature, to place your finger and thumb tightly on its wind- pipe, and save the tribe any further anxiety in regard to it." A groan from (ho bed here interrupted the conversation — a bed in the lying-in ward of the Coddleton Union, in Rus- setshire, where this conversation had taken place. The woman from whom the groan proceeded was Mrs. Hodge, wife of John Hodge, of Hankcrlcy, in the limits of the Union — a woman who had come here for the eighth and last time to be delivered of a child at the cost of the Parish, and had just produced to the world the unprecedented and abortive curiosity which had been the subject of scientific remark. 1 say there was a groan from the bed at the close of the A MATTER O T F, I !• K AND D HAT 11. .9 doctor's liisforic and social reminiscences, and Mrs. Giissctt, saying, "Ah, poor creetiir! I'm afeard she ain't worth much, doctor," approached the bed. As she drew near with the little morsel in her hand — it is impossible to speak of so tir.y a parcel as occupying her arms — and leaning kindly over the woman asked her if there was anything she wanted, the latter with sudden energy snatched the small bundle from the nurse's grasp, and draw- ing it to her bosom with all her remaining strength, burst Tito a passion of tears. Talk of drowning and choking it? The flood rolled down fro.n her white, thin cheeks — oh so pale and so poverty-stricken ! — baptising the little youngling, and adding to the bubbling springs of its tirst sorrows rivers from the deep exhaustless ocean of a mother's love. Only a minute or so it lasted, in which the puzzled nurse tried to cheer her and get the child away. Closer and closer she drew it, until all at once the tears ceased, the heaving breath stayed, the arms loosened their convulsive hold. The Union had done all it could for Mrs. Hodge living — it now only remained to it to bury what was left of her. At an exclamation of the nurse the doctor had come for- ward and taken the dead hand in his own, to drop it again immediately. , >i : " I expected this," said he, coolly. " The woman had scarcely a drop of blood in her. iler circulation was a mere dribble. Carrots and turnips and cabbages, Mr. Mce, I expect every day of her li?^-' <.-m..--.L...:-:^ ■ ,;.:../-.;■'>.,;.:: ..,.-->. -.•^;, " Not baptized ? " cried Mr. Leicester. " Impossible ! Some one must have done it ! " ,^ The consternation was general. Mr. Mee was referred to, and it indeed turned out that the troublesome little heathen had not been received within the pale of the Church. To the disgust of both the attorney and the mer- chant, Mr. Leicester refused to go on with any more busi- ness until this untoward defect was remedied. He could not conscientiously proceed with a discussion vitally affect- ing this child's interests, if it were as yet an unreclaimed, unchristoned child of nature. Dying in that state it could not be buried in consecrated ground. The Vicar's earnest- ness and sincerity carried the day. It was informally re- solved to have the child in and christen him forthwith. 28 LITTLE HODGE. Anna Maria brought him into the Board-room and held him forth while the Vicar, after reading part of the service, dipped his hands in a parish basin. "What shall I call him?" asked the Vicar, suddenly alive to the necessity of a name. "Well," said the unconscionable attorney, "you might use a Scriptural authority. * There is little Benjamin.' " " Little Benjamin," said the Vicar, with his eyes shut, " I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen ! " , v;- Thus Little Hodge became a Christian. Resuming the discussion after this episode, the farmers on the main question joined with the Captain and the Squire. This they saw to be a critical case. The Minister was evidently determined to arrogate every jot of authority, and to make the Guardians what Britons never will be. By reducing their discretion to nothing, he would diminish their control of the labor market. It was therefore resolved, spite of the protests of ex-officio and other members, that a reply to Mr. Dockster's letter should be sent to the Focal Governmeni Board, deprecating its interference in ;i matter solely withiij the province of the Guardians, stating as strong a case as possible for Hodge and the infant, and announcing the resolution of the Guardians to continue the parochial supervision of Anna Maria's bounty to Little Hodge. Only an Englishman could understand the proceedings that thereupon followed. A special Governn?ent inspector — the ordinary inspector was not considered equal to this LOCAL VERSUS FOCAL. 2$ great emergency — arrived at Coddleton and took up his quarters at the "Coddleton Arms." He visited the Union, examined the master, examined Anna Maria Simmons, examined Little Hodge ; ascertained the exact amount of pabulum and stimulant taken by the young woman, and compared it with that given to others of her size and weight. The result was an elaborate report to the central authority, in which, after a careful chemical analysis, Dr. Surchas came to the conclusion that four ounces a day of food and half a pint of stout was the amount of extra consumption for which Little Hodge was distiactly responsi- ble ; that the ratepayers were consequently to that extent defrauded ; and he advised that immediate action should be taken to vindicate the law. In consequence of this report a peremptory order came down to the Board of Guardians to withdraw at once its illegal relief from the infant Hodge, and to enforce upon the father the duty of its maintenance, or serious conse- quences might ensue to all concerned. The Board yielded with bad grace. Englishmen are all like Falstaff. They like not to do even their duty under compulsion, and this is a characteristic well worthy the consideration of both legis- lators and administrators. ■ ■ ^w PART II. OUT OF ONE UNION INTO ANOTHER. '' »'«.' CHAPTER I. THE RIGOR OF THE IMPOSSIBLE. Hodge took in very bad part the notice that his tiny son was to be returned upon his hands, to be by him fed, clothed, tended, and brought up to years of laborious dis- cretion. There is little room for impartial consideration when Necessity sets her hard, iron heel upon a man. I cannot hold him very responsible for what he then thinks *-nd says. . *■ The problem arising out of the situation had troubled him at his wile's grave. Now it could no longer be re- garded, with the eye of a philosopher, as looming in the dis- tance. Here it was ; a present practical joke of Nature whereof Hodge was the victim. Yokel-iike he put oiT the question as long as he could ; and thus it happened that the day after he had received the notice, he came home t ■> find Little Hodge chirping in the arms of Jemima Mary,his eldest hope. From six years old to twelve, Mary's small arms had held not a few babies, and the shape of her back had rather suffered by it ; but never had she nursed one so proportionate with her own size as her present fondling. So it seemed to Hodge as he looked at the Uttle woman ■"•SP" THE RIGOR OF THE IMPOSSIBLE. 31 cradling on her lap the doll-like baby, its brothers and sis- ters crowding wonderingly around. Their exclamations \yere very entertaining, had Hodge been in a mood to be entertained. A film came over the poor man's sight as he looked. Then he held his great . ^er towards the elfin child, and it vainly strove to curl its small tentacles round that horny stem, as it smiled a quaint smile to its troubled parent. It was a pretty enough scene this, or would ' ave looked so on paper, or in fact anywhere except in real life. This man felt it to be unutterably painful, as he thought on all the prospects that it suggested. Little Jemima Mary was clearly incapacitated to be a permanent nurse to the baby. It was fun to her to hold the then well-fed doll an hour or two in her arms, but how could she nurse, feed, physic, and tend it ? And how could he afford to pay any one to do it — or give up his livelihood to do it himself? He took up the nurs- ling in his hand as he mused on this difficulty. The " little un " crowed and peeped like a chicken just unegged, and the strong man's hand trembled a moment as he thought how easily a turn of that wrist would relieve him of the problem. But it grew firm again directly, for there was a deep gentle nature in this simple rustic. " Mary," said he, uttering once more the formula ever in his mind, "b'alnt he a little un?" "Ay, father, b'aint he?" *• How shall us keep him, Mary ? WTio's to be a mother to him?" " I'll be 'is mother," said Mary, assuming as matronly an "T,|KP ■-"?-'■':"■>**.' 32 LITTLE HODGE, yir as Ler size would admit of. " I can take care on iin nicely, fayther, so as you'll dress the children. An' theer's Tummas, 'ee's 'andy too, he'll help we to do it, won't 'ee, Tumnias?" To tell the truth, Tummas — his name was not Thomas, and never was meant to be — preferred bird-nesting and stile-riding to giving any aid in domestic work, but under the pressure of his father^s presence, he graciously assented to this proposal. " Naw, Hwont do ! " exclaimed Hodge, energetically stamp- ing his foot. "Thee can't manage it, Mary ! Who's to bile the taters, an' make the broth, an' dress out all the young- sters, an' give this little beggar 'is food an' jc .... after him? Law, but he be a small mowld of his mother ! Poor woman ! I wish she were here, Mary ! You take the baby, Mary," said he, softly, putting back the dwariling into Mj^. ry*s lap as she sat on the stool, and walking gently out of the hou^e. Mary discerned him but dimly through the lozenged panes, but she could see that with head bent he slowly went towards the churchyard ; and her tears falling on the child's face made it cry. In a minute the otb* nine were in full chorus. CHAPTER 11. NOTICE BEFORE ACTION. John Hodge, as tlie Guardians had failed him, thought it right to resort to his master. He must either have tne NOTICE BEFORE ACTION 33 child taken care of for him, or get the means to pay for taking care of it. We need not be hard upon his logic. It was bad, but natural. We must allow it not to be arguable that an extra child at home is any ground for an increase of wages. Yet for a man to be so scantily paid that, even with honest thrift, such an addition to his expenses should be fatal to his domestic economy was a fact of enough gravity to be worth the wage-payer's notice. Any one skimming starvation at such a hair's-breadth cannot be earning proper wages, and certainly cannot properly do his work. Hodge was not at the moment equal to so fine an argiunent ; and, though he had resolved to ask for better pay, he hung back when the time came to act on his resolution. Twice or thrice he lay in wait for Mr. Jolly, but no sooner was he face to face with the farmer, than the serf's heart in Hodge failed him : his desires would not stumble out. Now, however, every day was squeezing frjsh drops of blood from Hodge's heart. He had been obliged to stint the other children to get the poor pint of skim-milk which, badly mingled with the floor by the joint cookery of himself and Mary, constituted the manikin's diet, or to pay a woman now and then to come and rescue his house from absolute chaos. He began to see in his family the painful signs of hollowness and want. Little Hodge's body seemed to hrink dismally smaller. Hodge pinched himself and went forth to his labor of a morning with a gnawing within, which, like the prodigal, he — the reverse of prodigal ! — strove to appease with the hips and haws his master's swine would not have (Mccn. 8 •K'^miPiiff=^^^f^ 34 LITTLE HODGE. I I Think, whether you be man or woman, or hapj)/ little child, what it is or might be to work twelve hours with an unfilled stomach, with a yearning for food unattainable not only this hour, but the next, and the next, and the next, and so on through the weary working-day, and no hope that it will be relieved at night! Could you invent. us any torture more skilful, any physical pain or trial more refined and unrelenting than this? Yet, how true it is that many a poor soil-tiller, inwardly gnawed with such cravings as these, pursues with patience his ill-paid toil, or vainly en- deavors with some crude woody vegetable to stay his hunger, and returns at eventide to his home but an apology for the man he ought to be. Little Mary, with a God-given instinct of mothcrliness, cheated herself of some of her own petty portion ; and with her constant care of the sickening, peevish dwarfling, grew day by day so thin and haggard, that her father's ?*ncken heart smote him yet more sorely as he looked at her. God help me ! The picture of this empty man sitting of an even- ing, soil-stained and toil-weary, facing the eleven with all their wants, and brooding over the desperate prospects of yet more trying times, rises before me with such vividness, that 1 find myself trembling with an anguish and pity I can- not, dare not try to express. I can only wonder at his pa- tience — patience as of a dumb dog ; very beautiful, but oh, how pitiful ! how pitiful 1 At length flesh and blood could bear it no longer. Des- peration gave him boldness. He watched his opportunity, and when Farmer Jolly came into the field where he was NOTICE BEFORE ACTION. 35 cutting the grass, the mar;, with a sidelong gait, drew near the burly tenant. " If you please, sir, might I say a word to you, sir ?" "Say a word to me?" replied the farmer, looking hard at the man. " What about ? " Hodge. — Why, you see, sir (a twist), you do know (a shrug), you've a heard, sir (a kick and squirm of the right leg),- Jolly. — What the deuce are you driving at? Do you want some milk for the young un, or the loan of a shilling ? You've been caught bagging a hare, perhaps, and if so I cannot help you. We are determined to put down all the poaching hereabouts. HoEGE. — Naw, sir, it bain't none o' they things. But you see, sir, my poor Mary having a died, an' there being no relashun of the women-kind, sir, left to me as I do know on, not a soul to undertake care of the baby except Mary, and her not old enough, nor yet handy to it Jolly. — Do you want me to take charge of it, then ? Hodge. — Naw, sir ; but look ee here, sir, if so be as I could a paid a neighbor's wife or darter to take care oi" the little baby, we'd could a got along bravely, but 'twould cost three or four shillin' a week, and I can't spare that from the wages I'm a earnen, you see, sir. Jolly. — Then go to the Union. I'm one of the guar- dians, you know. Get a doctor's certificate of your chil- drr»4i's illness, and they will give you as much food as you want. Hodge. — Naw, sir, thankee, not for 1. I ain't the man 3« LITTLE HODGE. for to go an' beg what I ain't a earned, sir. I never did and I never will, if I starves for it. Jolly. — The more fool you, then. AVliat's the workhouse for but to help the like of you at such times ? Why do you set yourself up to be better than other men ? The farmer had h't upon a t^uasi-moraX principle applica- ble to the case, and as people are apt to do when they are hard up for a good argument, applied it with some asperity. Hodge. — 'Taint cause I be better'n my neighbors, replied Kodge. Howsomever Mary an' I, though we've ben put to for it now an' then, alius kept clear of the Union, *cept at times when 'tweren't possible to help it, an* please God, I'll go on for to do the same. But don't ee think, sir, my wages could be riscd a couple o' shillins ? (There was a tremen- dous effort at swallowing when Hodge came out with this.) You do know, sir, I've alius been a spry chap ; I can do amost as much again as most men in Hankerley, an' I do say I'm worth more than most. This was true. Hodge was worth more than any of the men on the farm, both as regarded experience and ability, and had he been paid proportionately would have earned from twelve to fifteen shillings a week. Farmer Jolly was too English not to see the justice of this, but he was too English to own it when it did not suit him. Jolly. — Why, man, you aren't paid in that way. You know you all go share and share alike pretty much, 'cept the ploughman. Don't I give ee a house for nothing, and plenty of ale, and draw wood for you ? You know very well I NOTICE BEFORE ACTION. 37 can't rise your wages. Every farmer in the neighborhood would be down upon me. Hodge (earnestly). — But, master, is that a reason for not doing justice to I ? If so be it's true, you do know, that I does more'n the rest of the folk, an' they all gets their houses an' ale, an' wood drawn, too, then I do only get the same wages as they. Jolly. — Oh, I can't argue with you. Take it or leave it. Hodge. — Indeed, sir, 'tis the truth; I can't go no longer as I've been doing. We be all starvin' at home, an' I ain't eat a fit meal these ten days. The farmer saw something playing in the man's eyes, but he said : Jolly. — If it comes to that, am I to starve, or you, man ? Go up to the house and tell my wife to give ee a loaf and a rasher of bacon, and a quart of new milk for the child. But look here, sir, don't talk to me or any om' else about rising wages again. If we rise one we'll have to rise all, and it would be dead ruination. He turned to go, but Hodge was desperate. Hodge (with sudden energy). — If you please, sir, that won't satisfy I. I thank ee for the loaf, an' the bacon, an' the milk ^or the baby, but 'taint only one meal, and 'twoan't keep us very long. I've told ee, sir, I can't live an' work on nine shillin' a week, . n' what's more, sir, /say I woTit. Hodge had gradually worked himself up to a pitch of in-« dignant boldness, rare in his slow, passive life. The farmer was surprised and uneasy at it. The whip trembled in his hand. 38 LITTLE HODGE. Jolly. — D it, do you know who you're speaking to, you ungrateful cur, you ? You and your family have been living on my place these twenty years, and after all the kindness I've :hown you, and never failing to pay you your wages winter or summer, wet or dry, and gifts at Christmas into the bargain, you turn on me the first time you get into trouble, and ask for more wages. And you'll set all the rest by the ears, too, I'll lay on it. Now, look here, Hodge, I give you fair warning; I'll overlook it this time, but, if I hear another word of tliis sort, off this farm you'll go ; and I'll take good care you shall not get work within twenty miles. So, as your friend, I advise you to think of it, and meanwhile, do the best you can for a week, and if you must have help, go where the others yo ; the parish is bound to help you. / / " They've a sent me back my little 'un ! " cried Hodge, as the farmer strode away. The man's feelings were a com- pound of regret and indignation. He could not stifle a curious sense of remorse (so imperfect were his moral ideas) that a relation of so many years should be jeopardized by his own act ; it is curious how from long acquiescence or pas- sivity a sense of meanness often attends the act of repulsion or change ; but, on the other hand, Hodge felt sure that, apart from his special need, his claim was just, and that the farmer had put him off with reasons that were no reasons. ^ I am not careful to analyze Mr. Jolly's thoughts. He was a good-natured bucolic in his way, thougli he was inca- pable of arguing out any question of morals or economics very clearly. We cannot be too hard upon him. He was ■fS^j^^"*™"^ THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL SCIENCE. 39 as much the creature, ay ! and the victim of a system, as the other. ;^ • * CHAPTER III. THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL SCIENCE. ,;; Bitter enough, though necessarily narrow and obfuscated, were Hodge's reflections upon this interview with his mas- ter. It showed how terrible was the strain of poverty upon him, how rcsistlessly loud the voice of his children's wants at home, that he mechanically went up to Jolly's house, and received the shameful dole the latter had offered him. : It gave the poor man twenty-four hours' respite for thought. *':--:"■ '-'^^^A-:::':r '■■''■'"':'' ^ ^'; '■■. ■-■.'"^'■: •:;S:'''.- ::•:;'■;. The parish had fiiiled him. His master had repelled him. Hodge now somewhat doubtfully turned to the parsoi). When State aid and the law of supply and demand break down, can the Church be relied on for succor ? The Rev. Winwood Leicester, M.A., Vicar of Hankerley, a good living in the gift of the Byrtons, came into that living only a short time after the present Squire's return from the university. He had consequently seen a good deal of his patron, who, appreciating the refined and genial qualities of the vicar» was his most intimate friend. Mr. Leicester was a man of that combination growing more frequent as the age goes on — good family and narrow means. He had brought from Oxford a culture and reputation which it seemed a pity to bury in the sequestered district of Coddleton. Yet he set- 40 I, I T T L E HODGE. I tied down naturally among the landed gentry of his division of the county, to the quiet, monotonous work, social and parochial, of his position. On all hands he was respected. His geniality opened him to the confidence of rich and poor. At Oxford he had imbibed the views of the Tractarians, and in the course of years developed into a moderate High Churchman. In public he appeared in a dress of scrupu- lously careful cut, not very distantly reminding one of that of a Roman Catholic priest — a similarity enhanced by his felt hat, in which, however, he did not affect the rakishness and ugliness fashionable with some divines. Mr. Leicester had a curate, who had been recommended to him by no less an authority than Dr. Fussey himself. The Vicar found that his confidence in that authority had placed him in an awkward position. Mr. Linkboy was of the school of newer, more enlightened, more advanced Rit- ualists. He exceeded the Vicar at every point. His coat was longer, his waistcoat was of more cassocky pattern, his muslin collar was nearly invisible, and his neck was as relig- iously dirty as that of any Catholic priest in Christendom, while, to cap all, he wore, overshadowing his white face, a soft, flabby wide-awake hat of such portentc us dimensions, that the country-folk around had dubbed him the black mushroom — or rather, in the worst circles, " twoad-stool." Mr. Liwkboy, nevertheless, worked hard and conscientiously against the world, the flesh, and the devil. He eschewed the one, he mortified .the other, and he did battle with the third in every form of wickedness from drunkenness up to Primitive Methodism. True, he found the people regarded THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL SCIENCE 41 him with aversion as a " Papist." And his antics both in the church and out of it gave some ground for that suspicion. There were many who thought him duly quahfied for the kingdom of heaven in one respect : he had become a fool for the sake of it. ; When the curate had buried Sarah Hodge he had resolved to visit her family. Twice he dropped in upon little Mary, but his grave manners and astounding hat not only excited her suspicion, but set the greater part of the infant nine off in unsanctified bowlings grievous to hear. Amid some such chorus Mr. Linkboy bravely knelt and read some prayers, and, with proper crossings and ejaculations, invoked on Hodge's children the benediction of Heaven. Hodge heard of these visits with a sort of contemptuous gratitude. " Aw, don't ee mind him, Mary; 'tain't the parson, 'tis tha curate. They do say he isn't over bright in the head, though he tries to do a deal of good, so I'm told." Hodge then, notwithstanding the curate's advances and manifestations of interest, sought out the more genial parson. He slowly went up the small carriage-sweep towards the vic- arage, having just passed his wife's grave before he came through the swing-gate from the churchyard, one Spring evening, hearing the lark far up above the steeple singing of heaven, and for a moment wondering whether the finger of the spire really did point to where Mary had gone. He timidly hung about the trellised porch, staring at the Wisteria which traverst J the front of the house on vine side, and the magnolia which decorated it on the other. The Vicar, from his seat at dinner opposite the window, had seen 42 LITTLE HODGE. him coming and recognized the man. With his usual kind- ness he sent out a glass of beer and some bread-and-cheesc, and when, after dinner was over, he came 'o the porch he found Hodge in a better frame of mind than the latter in- tended in coming there. Hodge was not a good church-goer by any means, and Mr. Leicester knew little of him person- ally ; but his recent loss, and the extraordinary circumstance of Little Hodge's history, were sufficient to give the Vicar an interest in his visitor " Well, Hodge, do you want to see me ? " The straight, broad-shouldered clergyman, with his refined face edged with the trim gray whiskers, and the gray curling hair around a well-formed head, smiled genially enough on the troubled peasant. He was a perfect embodiment of the gentleness, kiidliness, dignity, and sunshine of the Chu " If you please, sir," rephed Hodge, pulling his hat off. "Well, see, sit down on that seat in the porch and I will take this chair," said the other, easily, as he threw himself into a seat and delicately used the toothpick he held in his white hand. "Now, then, how is the little man, eh? Let me see, * Little Benjamin' I christened him. Is he being well taken care of? " " Naw, sir, that be just the thing ; he 'aint been taken care of, an' he's lookin' very bad, sir, this long while. I've eleven of 'em, sir " " Y:)s, I remember. They sent you home the boy from the Union. Have you not found any one to take charge of it ? " " Naw, sir. Where be I to get he taken charge on ? You ■m:immm0^^' THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL SCIENCE. 43 see, sir, my wages be but nine shillia' a week, and that ain't a shillin' a piece all round." " Bless my heart, neither it is ! You ought to have some help from the Union." " I don't require no help from the Union, sir ; leastways I don't care to accept it. I'd rather be independent of 'em if I can, sir " "But if you can't?" * Well, sir," said Hodge, unable to follow out in words or ide?.s what he meant, " if I can't I'll starve." " Oh ! nonsense, you're very wrong. Here you are, the father of eleven children, in the position in which God has placed you, and under an obligation to avail yourself of every advantage fo Jiem. If your resources are not enough to maintain them, you must get help from the parish, that's quite clear. You should get the doctor to see the baby, and no doubt he will order it proper nourishment." " Well, sir, I'd rather take care on *em and do for 'em an* be upsides wi' the world on my own earnings." "Ay, ay! but you can't you know, on nine shillings a week." " There, sir, you've a hit on it straight I " replied Hodge, his face brightening up a bit. " That's just what I do say, sir. J cajit do it on nine shillin' a week ; but if so be I were to get fair wages, I might do it without comin' on the parish. The wages be too small, that's it eczacly, sir ! " The Vicar saw that he had incautiously admitted too much. " Well, but nine shillings is good wages hereabouts, and I / 44 LITTLE HODGE. suppose Mr. Jolly gives you ale and wood, and all that sort ^ of thing. You can't have more than is going, my man. Neither you nor I can raise wages you know beyond the market price." . >■ V i*-: "Sir, I don't call 'em wages when you can't live on *em ; an' I'm here starvin' on my wages, an' I do say, sir, I'd ough to have more." ** Have you seen Mr. Jolly?" "Yes, sir, I've a seed him, an' he do say as he can't afford more, an' moreover as that th' other farmers wouldent stand ; no rise of wages." ' ' ' < iu r^^ "I should think not, Hodge, with the Union and out-door . relief in its present state. You must learn to be content, man, and don't wish or ask for more than is to be got. If you are incapable of taking care of all your children, the law entides you to relief, and it is your duty to take it. As I said just now," added the Vicar, rising, ** Providence has been pleased to place you and me in certain positions. I am not altogether satisfied with mine, you are not satisfied with yours. But don't you see, it is our duty to be con- tented with our lot and accept with grateful hearts what God sends us. My good man," said the parson, kindly and ear- nestly, " don't let a spirit of discontent get possession of you. Talk like that you have been having with me will get you a bad name, and may lead to great mischief all round the dis- trict." _^.^_^.__„_ .._„ :. " So it will, I'm afear*d, afore long, sir ! " replied Hodge. " I don't mean to sit Dy an' see they children starve without movin', I do swear, an' there be more on 'em as think as I .' # -mmf^^'"^^^'' THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL SCIENCE. 45 do think ; and I'd a hoped, sir, as how you'd a helped us wi' the farmers, to get us all a mite more than we do get just now." Mr. Leicester shook his head. "Ah ! I see," he said, "you little know all that is involved in what you are asking. I'm a minister of the Church. What would the farmers say to me for interfering between them and their laborers ? Go home, my man, and think better of it. I'll send Mr. Linkboy to see you to-morrow." "Beg pardon, sir," replied the man, turning his hat round and round in his hand, "but if that's the curate, sir, if you please, sir, he do frighten the children wi's queer looks an' ways, an' my little Mary's 'most afeared ov him. He can't do no good to us, sir, onless he can bring cow's milk an' news o' better wages. We don't none ov us care for they papish pranks, sir. Mo^t any one's glad to seejou, sir, any tune. Thankee kindly. Good-evenin', sir." The Vicar smiled to himself as he nodded and turned away. The idea of Mr. Linkboy, with his quaint £ and quainter manners, among Hodge's alarmed children for a while excluded the graver reminiscences of the interview ; but when these returned he was sincerely uncomfortable lest this should portend the beginning of trouble in the parish. The labor-market everywhere else was excited — would the country lie listless and dead to the crack of doom ? %• 46 LITTLE HODGE CHAPTER IV. THE LAST RESORT. From the vicarage Hodge wended his way to the house of his friend Timothy NollekeriS, the ploughman at Farmer Truscott's. Mr. Truscott held Charnley Farm of the Squire. Half-way down a hill, towards the small stream that, winding with its silver thread through a miniature vale, divided Farmer Jolly's land from Charnley, was a row of cottages called " Truscott's Cottages." They had been built for Charnley Farm, under the tenure of Farmer Trus- cott's grandfather. The present tenant of Charnley was, therefore, a farmer by inheritance, and had you seen his farm you would have said in no other way. Truscott just managed to make ends meet ; yet, though his farm had the finest land on the estate, and could have been made to produce, with care, cultivation, and capital, twice or even three times its present income, the Squire, from mistaken motives of kindness and because the connection of the Truscotts with the property had begun under his grandfather, did not dis'.urb his tenant. The latter's case was hopeless, as the Squire's steward well knew, and the man could not have afforded an extra hundred a year for any purpose what- ever. Landlords and laborers and money-lenders have to deal with thousands of such men squatting upon rich English acres even in this day of scientific agricultural progress. The laborer, however, loses the most by it. The other two classes are willing martyrs if they suffer at all. THE LAST RESORT. 47 Timothy Nollekens lived in one of Truscott's Cottages. An undersized man rather was Tim Nollekens, with legs having a tendency to the bandy, and with the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit ; but he was long-armed and capable, doing on occasion a day of fourteen hours' work without gmmbling. Mrs. Nollekens was rather the reverse of her husband in every particular. She was, in fact, a good com- plement. Bigger and more spirited than he, she used before her fifiii child was born to take her share at the work in the field. From that time she contented herself with the toil > of home-management and the cares of home-rule. Of nine children she had lost three : two by scarlet fever, and one by " wasting"— that is to say, really of a slow fever, gener- ated by the poisoned air of her house, and badly treated by the parish doctor. God places invisible walls between some people aiid disease. It was a marvel how the other chil- dren escaped the fatal epidemic. No condition which an ingenious devil could have devised for the purpose was want- ing in their case. True, they were kept downstairs in the living room while their brother and sister lay abed in the at- tic above ; but their mother went up and down the stairs, and tended the sick and dressed the healthy with the same fingers and in the same gown. When the poor little bodies had been carried away to be buried, the only disinfectant re- sorted to was soap-and-water with judicious moderation : the sheets and clothes were mixed and washed with the family linen, and Mrs. Nollekens was too thrifty to throw away the shifts the children died in when she had so many left whom they would fit. The Poor-law medical officer of those days 48 LITTLE HODGE. f was content to physic existing patients, and did not trouble himself much about preventive medicine — it was not his business. The spring from which the Nollekens family and the other tenants of Truscott's Cottages drew their water-supply was the rill at the bottom of the slope, where it ran amidst the crowding watercresses, fortunately for the consumers, if mod- ern science be true, since upon the rise above it, outside the cottages, were cess-pits dug out of the soil. Mrs. Nolle- kens's ]Dig lived under her back window, whence everything that could be spared could conveniently reach him. A member of Parliament not long since reflected with some se- verity on the new-fangled notion? about health and health- legislation, instancing the numoer of hale and hearty North- men who lived almost over their middens ! It would have done him good to put his nose out of Mrs. Nollekens' s back window. An hour or two of pillory in that position would have been fatal to his sanitary scepticism, if not to his life. However, we cannot blame Nollekens and his wife for think- ing the smell "healthy" when a legislature agrees with them. Mrs. Nollekens had not been an unsympathizing spectator of Hodge's sorrows. She had gone of a Sunday to drop a tear on the grave of his wife, and had constantly looked in to give Mary a helping hand, or had permitted the latter to bring her charge to the cottage and sit in the chimney cor- ner for an hour or two. But then the other nine young Hodges were necessarily left in the wilderness, whence Mary found that these absences were likely to be paid for by dear damages or disastrous conflicts at home. Mrs. Nollekens, THE LAST RESORT. 49 on the other hand, could not spare much time at Hodge's, so that all the help she could give her neighbor was not very material. It showed sympathy, though, and the widower thought much of it. He had talked over his case with Tim and his wife, or rather with Tim through his wife, and ap- prised them of h intention to make a demand on his master for higher wages, Mrs. NoUekcns had then said : "La, there now! *t hain't of no use. Do ee spose Far- mer Jolly '11 give ee more'n the rest of *em? Or do ee spose the rest '11 let ee take more'n they get ? If he do give't ee he must give't to my old man too. An' there's Jack Horner, he've a ben a talkin' o' flittin', 'cause wages be so low an' work so skeerse. But, bless yer heart, the far- mers they don't care a straw. I do count you're all a-cuttin' one another's throats, there's so many of ye in these here parts." Vlts. NoUekens mig/i/ have thought of the nine children she had borne ! Nollekens agreed to this by sagaciously nodding his head and saying — i , ♦ "Th' old woman's right, John." i ' We have seen that she 7ms right. John Hodge, however, was under a pressure that did not affect them, and that pressure was forcing him to solve the problem they were not disposed to entertain. This man was a step beyond them in the Slough of Despond. He and his children were pa- tiently starving. When men reach that point they must cither do or die. Hodge, then, was making his way to Truscott's Cottages, 50 LITTLE HODGE to relate to Tim Nollekens the results of his interviews, and meeting Jack Horner, he invited that worthy to accompany him. "There naw, John ! didn't I tell ee?" said Mrs. Nolle- kens, combing the tangled hair of her youngest-born with un- comfortable vigor — "drat ee, hold still I tell ee — Varmcr Jolly bain't a fool. Sposin' he were to listen to ee, John, wouldn't the whole lot on us be down on him ? Wouldn't the rest on 'em rate him for a noggerhead to go and rise the wages on *em?" "Stay thee there a minnit, Sally Nollekens," said Hodge, catching a suggestion from her words. " What do ee say to this ? Sposin' the whole of us were to agree not to do no work for none of the farmers athout they rise the wages two shillin' a week ? " " Sposin' thee cuts thy throat ! " contemptuously inter- posed Mrs. Nollekens. She little knew what she was say- ing, • ' ^ ■ Indeed Hodge's proposal was so novel and daring that it took the hearers' breath away ; and as it was the first time he had put it in words, it nearly took away the breatii of the speaker himself. Mrs. Nollekens as usual would, to a su- perficial observer, have appeared to be the first to recover herself: ^ . ^■- :■■■ - ^■;4-.,.--- :;.:;^' , - ::r;, ,, . v. " Well," she said, confidently, as with a mighty tug not si- lently endured she brought away the last bothersome knot from Peter's head, " sommat's a come over ee, John, since thy wife a-died." "Sally Nollekens, I'm a starvcn; I hain't had a fitly meal THE LAST RESORT. SI afore to-night for more'n a week. My little Ben, they went an' called un, be a sickenin. though I gets un all the milk I can, an ee knows very well they won't none ov em sell none to ce so long as there be pigs to drink it. Mar/s a wor- ryin to death. The rest ain't half fed. It's only a bit an a drop all round for them : their clothes is a wearin out a sight to see, an' they be a-growin like little beastesses 'thout a mother to manage 'em. If so be a woman could be got to look after 'cm, 'taint possible fur I to pay for her." "Ha!" said Sally, sympathetically, Peter's capillary em- barrassments being now completely solved, " if ee wer on'y like some o' the folk, ce'd get along bravely. Look at Absa- lom Hitchcock ; he's tha laziest beggar i' the parish, but he knows the way to cheat the Guardians. Ee've alius got a child or so sick abed — they takes it by turns, I spose — an' the doctor gives him an order for loaves or soup — a tidy lot ov em every week. You may get along pcrwided yo've on'y enough cheek and childern." "I won't do it!" said Hodge, decidedly. "I say som- mat must be done. If ee were in my place, Sally Nolle- kens, ee'd say so too. Why, sposin ee were to die to-mor- row? " '■■ '^■'■^' " " • ' •'■'''■''' "Please God, I won't!" said Mrs. Nollekens. " Please God, her shant ! " said Tim Nollekens. "But 5posin', I say, her were to die to-morrow, how would Tim manage witii all they young childern ? 'Tain't in nater to bear it, an' we'd be a pack o' fools to stand it any longer. Let's all club together an' go in for a rise o' wa- ges!" rw 52 LITTLE HODGE. Hodge's desperation was driving him very near the Rubi- con. The appeal he had made to the good wife's own un- certainty of hfe rather went home to her, spite of her dis- claimer. She thought there was no greater born fool in the general handling and management of children than Tim Nollekens. He was always letting the babies fall on the stone flags, or on just provocation would send the bigger ones to earth in a manner belying his general meekness. They often suffered vicariously the effects of a resentment he would, if he had dared, have vented on their mother. The idea of leaving Aim in Hodge's position carried to Mrs. Nollekens's Inind such a painful picture of domestic helpless- ness and absurdity, as awakened her to a sense of the posi- tion in which they lived and moved. They were simply skirting a border-land of starvation. Nay, was not one foot over the border ? Jack Horner had been for some time excogitating the wages problem. He was a married man wi':hoat children, a luxury rare with the poor, if it be a grief common among the rich. His notion was to emigrate — a notion initiated in his mind by some of the navvies on the railway that had been built through tliat part of the country. It has been little considered how much these lines of road have carried into the still, secluded counties of England, along with the v'>ar and bustle of the traffic they have opened up. The hardy men who built them, many of them travelled from county to county, many from work under foreign contracts, have borne with them to the vacant rustics, in a^ ^-house or roadside gossip, not a few novel ideas, stirring up their sluggish minds ~-fi^^ -t* t^ '■•'"'* % THE LAST RESORT. 53 4 to fresh views of rights and duties, of relations and oppor- tunities. Everywhere, too, they have picked up and with- drawn from agricultural life some of the best of the laborers, converting them into new men, more energetic, enterprising, and, to tell the truth, unsettled. This alone might be enough to account for the spread of ideas and the uneasi- ness that now stir the agricultural laboring class to its very depths. These long iron lines have cut into the inert mass of rural society, and have made it impossible it should ever be the same concrete unity again. When Hodge came out with the desperate proposal above reported, Jack Horner clapped him on the back. " Hooray, John ! that there's the way to talk ! I tell 'ee, Sally NoUekens, he've a hit the right nail on the head. Union is strengthy that's the motter of our burrying club, and I say if you unites for burryin' unite for living as well." But Nollekens nodded his sagacious head again. " Don't ee go to do it," said he. " You'll upset the coun- try wi' yer new-fangled noshuns, an'll rise a drefful spirit among the farmers. Naw I naw ! be content, I say, Here have I worked these forty year for seven and eight and nine shillin' a week, I and my fayther afore me on the same farm, and though I do say as us haven't had as much as us might a had we ain't starved yet. Sometimes I've a had a belly- full, sometimes I haven't, but I've alius lived through it. Do you leave things alone, man, and you'll pull through. We've alius a pulled through, and you'll pull through too. "Will ee shut up 1" said Mrs. Nollekens, who began to discern some method in Hodge's madness. "Thee'd a set 54 LITTLE HODGE there a hundred year, an' watched I a starving ef Fd a let Vmmy Stedman's face, too, was a dead sea when first he raised his arm for quiet, and he looked as if he were going to commence a sermon ; but in an instant his countenance h'ghted up as he opened his h'p^ and the people pressed together to catch the first sounds. Sammy was a born orator. He began, in quiet, clear, decided tones — '' Brothers, we've come together here for a serious pur-i- SAMMY STEDMAN. 59 l)ose, and, considering wiiat that purpose is, I am glad to see so many of you here. I have waited for this day all my life. I have looked forward to it eagerly, but often with despair. For I thought tiic agricultural working-man was the most degraded of all beings wilh which I was acquainted. ( Year, year /) To-day we arc all met here to consider our condition, and if so be we find our condition is not what it should be, we are to devise measures, if we can, to c i>;ve ourselves from that condition. Is that it? {Ees .i3.x/ Theeritbc!) *' Now, brothers, we've got first to consider what 'tis you want, and, secondly^ how to set about getting it. {Ah I) Firsty' said Sammy, dropping insensibly into his preaching manner, and raising his arm with one finger extended, to bring it down on his left hand, ^^what is it you want? I'm rejoiced at last to see you all roused up to know that you want anything. That's the first step in improvement. You nmst find out your case is a bad un before you'll set to work to better it ; just as in religion we have to begin wilh repent- ance from dead works. You show me a man that's content- ed with what he is, and I'll show you a coward or a fool. There's two sorts of contentment : contentment with the will of God and whatever that brings you, which don't in any way mean sitting down and thinking He don't mean to give you anything better if you'll try for it ; and then there's contentment that sits down idly and wickedly, and lets things go on as they please without an effort to make them better. That's the sort of contentment that ends in the poor-house." 6o LITTLE HODGE. " Hear, hear ! " shrieked Mrs. Nollekens, in a voice that thrilled the whole audience and woke them up to a general laugh, as she dug her angular elbow into the side of Tim Nollekens. ■: . ■ w " Well now, your friends here, the committee — {Oh, they've formed a committee then I Hear, hear /) — tell me they've ascertained that you aren't satisfied with your wages — [cheers) — nor your way of livin', nor your children's pres- ent condition and future prospects. (Mrs. Nollekens's ap- probation was vociferous.) And among you there's John Hodge, whose situation is a reducshun at absurdity — that is, he's reduced to a laughing-stock, because he's like a male pig left with eleven young uns to feed and no means of feedin' them." . • This coarse joke was only too truly rural not to be re- ceived with shouts of laughter, Hodge himself joining in with no small gusto. "Well, here's three things you've found out, as I found them out long ago, and there's many more I could mention to you. There's your position. You have no political rights, no representation in Parliament. You haven't any knowl- edge of the great questions arising to atTect your welfare, and if you had, 'twould only embitter your lot, because you could do nothing to '^medy it. You're bound hand and foot to the farmer, and he's bound to his landlord, and so we have in what's called 'free and merry England' this day two bands of slaves, handcutfed, as it were, one to the other. Well, if the better band of slaves — that's the farmers — is contented and won't wake up and do something to shake theirselves SAMMY STEDMAN. 6i free, then the worser band, the laborers, must rise and do it." ;•,-■-_.. .r _^.: .,_,y:.,. Sammy Stedman's oratory went a little over the heads of the folk in this passage, but what with his clear, ringing voice and kindling manner they seemed to take it all in, and it woiked like yeast in the unleavened minds of the listeners. They cheered to the echo. Meanwhile the noise had at- tracted several farmers to the spot, and the Curate's mush- room hat flapped gloomily in the background. "Then," he said, " there's questions a rising between us and the parson. I've got nothing to say personally against any of the clergy in this neighborhood. They takes their pay and says their prayers, and manages their parishes as well as any folk could do — {Eight huuderd a year ! Ay, mi a parsonage 1) — but I do say this of the parsons as a body, and if there is one here," said Sammy, looking straight at the Curate's felt hat, " I hope he won't be offended — I say they ought long ago to have taken notice of the terrible state of things around them, and have boldly preached their duty to the farmers. They've been preaching to us to be con- tented with Providence — why didn't they preach to them^ as their Master did, about the duty of the rich ? There's a text for them in one of the epistles, and perhaps the rever- end gentleman I see listening to me will take a note of it and preach a sermon from it some day : ' Go to, tww, ye rieh tnen. Behold, the hire of the laborers who have reaped down your fields, whieh is of you kept back by fraud, erieth, and the cries of them which have reaped are entered into the ears of the Lord God of Sabaoth' " 62 LITTLE HODGE. This passage, delivered widi all his force, made a deep impression upon the people. One or two of the farmers hissed, and in a moment the fierce spirit that underlies the ; character of the patient hind broke out with threatening fury. A Babel of cries arose, above which Mrs. NoUekens's voice ruled pre-eminent, and the crowd turned round upon the intruders. At this moment the great mushroom hat was pushed in between the laborers and the small knot of farm- ers. ' " ■ '■• ■ - " Gentlemen," shouted the Curate to the latter, taking off the hat and waving it frantically, "for God's sake don't ex- cite the people by useless insult. They maybe right or they may be wrong, but they are entitled to hold their meeting and say what they please, and I beseech you not to provoke them to violence." Hodge, Horner, and Nollekens had rushed to the front, where still better men were ready to vindicate the right of public meeting, and their eyes met those of Jolly and Trus- cott in an angry encounter not to be forgotten. The farm- ers affected contempt. "Oh, go on," said Jolly, "we'll not interrupt ee. This ain't the place to discuss the question." The Curate's hat went on, but he still stood between the parties, while every one, trembling now with excitement, turned again to the speaker. " Well, the priests, who have been the witnesses of your misery and need, have not helped you, and the masters won't help you — {/fear, hear! said Hodge) — and the Parish won't help you, leastways those of you that are honest, and SAMMY STEDMAN. ^^ the landlords won't help you, and even God won't help you unless you help yourselves ; so you must resolve this day to take your stand for what you mean to do. Quit yourselves like fiteu, be strong. I tell you frankly this is no light or easy matter. You may have to suffer a good deal. It will be a hard fight, but it will be a glorious victory. Now, if we are to combine to better our condition, what are we to ask for?" . : v, -, " More wages," grunted a lazy fellow in the bvickground, whose pockets nursed his hands far more than was required by the work they did. - " Better houses," said a shrill voice not very far from the speaker. It was that of Sally Nollekens. " Decent houses an' a garden, master, an' twenty shillin' a wik, I say." The crowd was easily amused. It laughed consumedly at the good wife's proposal. The rustic simplicity, so fas- cinating to amiable sentimentalists and poets, so advanta- geous to employers, came out conspicuously when practical Sammy Stedman asked them to formulate their demands. They could not do it. Th(?y had only dipped their feet in the edge of the water, and were not ready for a plunge. They scarcely knew as yet whether to be in earnest or not, though they meant to be terribly in earnest. They only felt their state to be intolerable, and, in fact, I rather think, shrank from the responsibility of suggesting their own remedy. This shyness, the result of ignorance and long repression, was afterwards used against them by their op- ponents. They set down the whole movement to " agitators." So long had they been under authority, coming and going. 1 64 I. ITTLF HODGE. doing or refraining, at the behest of those with whom their relations were in general kindly, that they would thank any one, any Deus ex machind, who would come to them and declare what were honest requirements and how to get them. Sammy Stedman was the convenient divinity of the moment. He pulled up Sally NoUekens. " No, Mrs. NoUekens, 'twon't do to talk too large at first. There ain't many farmers, farming as they do, as can afford twenty shillings a week, and there ain't many men, as prices go, worth twenty shillings. I don't go for all getting the same price. We must help all up to a certain point, and then above that it's the most to the best. Now, let's see. You're most of you getting 9s. and los. a week and your beer, I s'pose, which they reckon at ^\ 13s. 6d. a year, and what they call * perquisites ' and Christmas gifts. Put- ting all these together and considering the beer goes into your stomachs, can you live fit to work and keep your families decent and comfortable on what you get ? " "Naw ! " came in a tremendous chorus from the audience. " Then the least you can any of you ask is what' 11 do that. You are part of the farmer's machinery, and you re- quire to keep up steam or you'll run down, and you can't work unless you have enough to keep the fire going, and the water boiling, and the machinery oiled. That's the first point — what they call a ininimtim. When you've got that how much more are you entitled to?" "Share o' profits," said two or three together, who had followed his argument and [jerceived its drift. "Yes. Some share big or little of the profits. I say SAMMY STEDJVIAN. 65 you put your labor into the venture just as your master puts his money into his land and his skill into his venture, and so all that are in the venture should have a share in the profits resulting from it." O Sammy Stedman, Sammy Stedman, here are you trip- ping sadly ! The selling price of a man's labor theoretically includes not only what is to keep the machinery in order, but the profits to him, whatever they n^ay be, over and above the wages which the condition of the labor-market enables him to earn. If that be so he must get his profits out of his wages, and . no more entitled to a share of the capitalist's profits than -to a room in the capitalist's house. Is my green-grocer to turn upon me at Christmas for profits on everything he has sold me, on the ground that he has all the year been selling to me at a loss ? The selling price of a cabbage includes the return for cost of producfion and the profit. This latter proportion truly is very variable and very doubtful in its collection, but, nevertheless, normally and theoretically it forms some proportion of all wages and all prices. * Sammy Stedman's fallacy was a common one. It was, however, the shadow or substitute for the truth. There is a mediocre Siandard of labor which must be governed by the rule above stated ; but undoubtedly there is also a sort and style of work that involves something more than that. Put a man on his mettle. Show him that he can do something above a low average, can double production or improve quality, and he does it for you. Is he then entitled to no share of the profits? For in this case he brings into the 06 LITTLE HODGE. combination to produce results an extra element, the only one capable of expansion and intension, the capital and ordinary labor being the fixed quantities, but this being an elastic factor. Whether or no he be held entitled to a share of the profits, surely in that case it would be good policy and good economy to give it to him. The alternative is that of paying for his extra skill and intensity a "fancy" price, and running the risk upon that as well as on the standard wage. However, if Sammy Stedman has got out of his depth, the cue of all concerned is not to rail at him and despitefuUy use him, but gently entreat him, for he is an honest man and one waiting upon truth. ' I do not propose to report anymore of Stedman's speech. He went into his " secondly," and showed them that indi- vidually they could make no stand or head against the firm phalanx of landlords' and employers' interests ; that here and there some might receive attention and justice from good-hearted employers, but that the only practical and sure way of gaining equal ground with their masters in con- tracting for wages was to unite and support each other, and that a combination formed on principles of mutual aid, of justice to themselves and justice to the farmers, would be the foundation of a better edifice of life for them all. The effect of all this on the hearers, who stood nearly two hours patiently hearing it out, was very notable. It was true, as one said who stood by and watched it, that you could see the scales falling from their eyes. The men were made new men. They had taken steps in thought and action. Never again could they be the patient, acquiescent creat- .JB^Jjgi; SAMMY STEDMAN. 67 ures, whose docility was the admiration of sciolists, who drew from it the conclusion that this uncommercial and "almost family" relation was ordained of Heaven ! A res- olution was arrived at to form a Union destined to be a dan- gerous enemy to that other Coddleton Union, which had hitherto ruled the district. It was then that the celebrated "Coddleton Charter of Laborers' Rights" was drawn up; and, lest it should be unknown to any of my readers, I transcribe it in full : ..■■:' -y:,:,.'-,..-'^'--:--^-y''"'"" ' "IVef the undersigned laborers of Coddleton^ are of J opinion that we are not treated as we ought to be r . between man and man. *'JVe therefore request to be treated otherwise. " I. Our complaint is we must have better wages. We are only getting from 9J. to lis. a week {some 8j.), and such of us as has families hereby declare that ^ // is not possible to keep thefn on this sum per week, ; Moreoi'er^ we respeckfully submit wages is risen in all departments but the agricultooral laborer. He ' is still a surf . : : V V ' "2. Our cottages — at least most of us — is not fit for human beings to live in." [A scene when this is under discussion ; Mrs. Nollckens, with great vehemence, and no little plausibility, insisting that a rider shall be added to this effect — "Speshully houses on Cliarnley Farm, an' worst of all John Nollekens's, which the size an' the rottenness of it is i)ast enduring." But the 68 LITTLE HODGE. meeting persists in adhering to general statements, and remits Mrs. Nollekens to her private remedy.] ' - ;> (Continued.) '■''Furthermore^ the cottages is held by the week of the farmers, who consequentially can turn us out whenever they choose, and do so without notice if so inclined. We therefore pray for cot- tages of our own, near the farms, by the year, at a reasonable rent, to be paid out of our wages, " 3. Likewise there is many cases where the man has no garden, and can^t grow any potatoes or vegeta- bles. Jv all such cases we respeckfully beg that a small piLce of land should be hired out to them^ or given with the cottage if convenient. "4. Also there is cows. We think the father of a fam- ily ought to be able to keep a cow a?id pervide milk for his childern. This some gentlemen gives their best men, and we request it will be allowed to all such as have families. ^^ [The irrepressible Sally Nollekens heroically fights at this juncture for the introduction of a claube in favor of pigs, and gets some strong support ; but again the general ver- dict is against her, leading to her declaration, amidst great laughter, "That there paper's called a charier, but I calls un a cheater. If zo be ee draws out a paper, draw it out bravely, an' don't gi'e it em half an' half like. Lor* bless the chicken hearts, if so be / could ha' wrote un, Fd a SAMMY S T E D M A N 69 drawed a ch — ch — charter would a made the farmers sweat in their shirts, I warrant un ! "] ; i, v " 5. Our agreement is that wages shall be ids. In har- vest, and 1^. through the winter. Also we will . , not take less than t, pence the hour, or the equivalent, for task work. " 6. We hereby agree to form a Union for the above ob- jects, and pledge ourselves to stand by each other < //// 7ve succeed.'* Such were the resolutions come to that May evening on Hankerley Common — resolutions containing errors pro- pounded with the quaintest naivete, pregnant, nevertheless, with serious meanmg. The dread principle of Combination, hitherto confined to towns, had burst its bounds, and for good or evil inoculating the yokels, was destined thence- forth to be a permanent power in country life. Who could calculate or measure the results that would flow from this portentous occurrence? A levy of 3d. each upon all signers of the charter was made for preliminary expenses, and a committee appointed, with Sammy Stedman as chairman, to communicate with the farmers. Finally, it was resolved that should they fail in obtaining the advance of wages asked for they should strike. Strike/ A word sending terror to the hearts of capital- ists, harrowing landowners, employers, and consumers alike ! A word to make squires and farmers, thinking of their scat- tered halls and farm-houses, their exposed ricks, their ranging cattle and sheep, tremble with apprehension. 70 LITTLE HODGE. 1 The word Union was enough for them ! It transferred them from the peaceful air of the country to the revolutionary- atmosphere of the great towns. It brought before their eyes visions of murdered masters, "rattened" machinery, burning factories, tyrannical rules, truculent and disorderly meetings, and, above all, the terrible powers of Strike. A word too long associated with secret conspiracy and dark deeds of violence, and malicious destruction, and harsh laws sternly administered, and reprisals and animosities in what ought to have been the holy brotherhood of Capital and Labor. Everything evil that ever came out of or was attached to the idea of Unions was conjured up to their imagination by the word ; and to all this heritage of scandal and horror, without the solemnity of any deed of transfer, succeeded the unfort- unate Union that was born at Coddleton out of the exigen- cies of Little Hodge. Very few stopped to inquire what these men were really wanting, what they had really resolved to do. In fact, the very terms were enough to damn the whole proceeding. They asked more wages, they had drawn up a Charter, they had formed a Union I they threatened A STRIKE ! ! What more need be said ? This was the end of social peace, a blow at the roots of society, the death- warrant of the country. It was forgotten, naturally enough, that the name " Union " no longer meant a secret conspiracy, but an open combination, recognized and protected by law ; that the reasons for the old acts of violence had vanished, and that the occasional reappearance of truculent force in certain localities was exceptional, and always reprehended by the leaders of the best town Unions ; and above all, that A CURIOUS DETHEL. 7x there were Unions and Unions ; that that which disfigured the rules of the one was not to be found in another ; that Unions need no more be copies of one another than all joint- stock companies need engage in the same business or be subject to the same rules. In failing to note this fact the squirearchy and their tenants made their first trip in tactics, and lost an opportunity, by early and conciliatory negotiation, of giving to the Charter a shape harmonizing with the differ- ent circumstances of rural life, and securing them from out- bursts of unjust and angry caprice on the part of their labor- ers. But the die was cast, and it was for Death to the Union. The fatal results of this blunder we have yet to trace. But what if, after all, their real resentment arose more from this, that the very mention of higher wages to men, farming badly and overweighted with rent, and too often living more like men of leisure and fortune than agriculturists, was a strain too excessive for bucolic stoicism to endure ? CHAPTER VI. A CURIOUS BETHEL. I HAVE not yet described Hodge's home. It was a cot- tage which had the advantage of standing by itself at a cor- ner of the farm near the road. It had no doubt been built away from the other cottages on the farm in order that the tenant should command the entrance to that part of it. It had existed time whereof the memory of nan ran not to the ^^w 1] 72 LITTLE HODGE contrary. 'Twas a thick rubble-walled place, of a dingy ochre tint, with a heavy thatch cap of great antiquity, and small windows with leaden casements and diamond-shaped panes. It stood in the garden of which a survey has already been given. Inside, the floor was paved with uneven flags. Ten feet by twelve was the dimensions of the room, the two V xtra feet one way including the chimney-place : a low, un- ceiled room that had once been whitewashed. The furni- ture was a deal table, well scrubbed in Mrs. Hodge's days, a swinging deal shelf, two or three fixed shelves, an old bench, three chairs and a stool. Up on the high mantel- board were three gaudily colored crockery figures — the Duke of Wellington with :i red and green uniform, a ruby nose, and cheeks of inebriated hue, supported by a blue and yel- low lion startant — stare -ant on one side, and a sheep couch- ant alb on a field gules and verdant on the other. The only other ornament was an old almanac many a year since pasted on the walls, and now exhibiting a dingy and fly-specked face harmonizing with its background. There were two brass candlesticks, one of which had bent beneath the weight of time. Behind an old piece of baize were concealed the family tea-cups and saucers. The rest of the family crockery was easily accommodated on one of the fixed shelves afore- said, and the family plate, consisting of an iron ladle and a couple of metal teaspoons, reckless and fortuitous in its habits, was always of uncertain locality. A door at the back opened on a small bricked square, about four feet across, from which covered stairs to the attic went up along the side of the house. They had not far to go. The lower room i-a •■+ A CURIOUS BETHEL. 73 dingy r, and tiaped I ready flags, le two w, un- furni- 5 days, an old uantel- ; Duke y nose, Lud yel- couch- 10 only pasted pecked re two weight led the ockery s afore- and a in its c back across, he side r room b was only eight feet high. The upper, with its sloping roof, lighted by dormer-windows through the thatch, just permitted Hodge to stand upright in its centre. Its contents were a bed, rsT low wooden frame upholding a mattress, a settle in under the eaves, and a loose mattress in the other corner. The only carpet in the house, an old piece of felt, lay beside the parental couch. I hope it will not be considered vulgar to tell the tr-th that before and after Mra. Hodge's decease Mary slept in the same bed with her father. Thank God, they were simple folk ! Such was the house. Yet outside, with its deep, dark thatch, small windows, and low elevation, it was very pic- turesque, and any one passing by might have said that " it was amazing to see the comfort and attractiveness of English cottage life ; " for jessamine climbed over the remnants of the rotted porch in front, honeysuckle wicathed the window, and Mrs. Hodge had always maintained some annual creepers ovcrmnning the back door and festooning the out- side staircase. If comfort could have come out of aesthetic gratification, possibly these poor people might have led a tolerable life. Ir this theatre of rural bliss, while the plot was thickening for the formation of the Union and the declaration of rustic rights, the starvation and distress of Hedge's family in- creased in a geometric ratio. It had not taken m.my weeks to bring the few weeds the poor dead woman had so aptly managed in keeping her children decently clad, into a con- dition to strike even Hodge's uninstructed eye. Whenever Mary could get little Hodge's stomach and voice to come -"W^P5j?g .# 14 LITTLE HODGE. to a truce and be quiet, no easy task with the food the child was dry-nursed upon, you might have seen her stand- ing on a stool over the big half barrel that formed the wash-tub, and plunging her small arms into the indifferently lathered water in a womanly attempt to wpsh the family linen, or sitting down with tlie paste-board b »x that had long done duty as a work-basket, and with willing but in- different stitches skewering together the disintegrating gar- ment?, cf her brothers and sisters. Pale and dark undc. the eyes, with whitening lip;:., the brave little womin sat and faced with steady courage the growing horrors of her situa- tion, and whiles she sang, and whiles she cheered the others v.'ith her mother-like trl^ and whiles she encouraged them to go and gather sticks in the coppice for the morning fire. Then sometimes, when she was left alone, you might have seen her l\y her weary, troubled lif'o head on the table-edge, and weep over the memory of her mother dead and her own living experience of sorrow and care. Little Hodge grew daily more sickly and troublesome. Mary had twice or thrice obtained medicine from the dis- pensary for him, but peppermint drops were a poor stimu- lant or sedative for his complaint. He wanted milk and food. She had discovered it was now impossible any longer to conceal the other children's necessities from their father. They must either have some more cloliies or go to bed, said Mrs. Nollekens. The poor nan himself had once or twice thoughtlessly remarked on their raggedness, and re- proached the child by recalling their appearance under her mother's hands. How little had he estimated what that im- A CURIOUS BETHEL. 75 food the ler stand- )rmed the differently the family ^. that had ig but in- rating gar- . unde.- the in sat and f her situa- the others raged them orning fire, you might ?ad on the other dead oublesome. )m the dis- )oor stimu- 1 milk and any longer Lhcir father, go to bed, ad once or •ss, and re- • under her lat that im- plied when the poor woman was living ! How many hus- ban(]s ever do? . Hodge had come home, and was sitting waiting for sup- per. There was part of a great brown loaf on the table, and Tummas had picked a few watercresses, which with some salt completed the set-out. Tea was brewing on the hearth : one teaspoonful of village tea to the quantity of water a man could drink after a day's work. But he bad had his beer. Little Hodge lay in the well-used box, the cradle of the Hodge family. " Fayther," Mary said, as she sat and watched him eating the meal, "what's to become o' we, fayther?" Hodge stopped, with a large piece of bread and a bunch of watercresses between his teeth, quite aghast that Mary should have hit upon the very question that was the burden of his thoughts morning, noon, and night. "Ay, Mary," he said presently, "what's to become o' we, Mary? God knows— /don't." "Fayther," she said, painfully, "I've a done all I can to save, and the money's all gone, and four shillin' owin' to the baker, and the dairyman to Charnley told Tummas he couldn't let him have any more milk without the cop- pers. And, fayther, there's scarcely any clothes left to we childern, and indeed, fayther, 'tain't my fault, but every- thing's a wearing out, and there be need o' a rare lot o* money to get 'em all new clothes. I've mugglcd along, but 'taint no use to try to mend 'em any more." And so Mary broke down and wept, and Hodge's grim face grew more grim and strange as he sat and looked at her. ■'*;■> :-r:^' 76 LITTLE HODGE. "God help us!" he said; "I can't a bear it much longer." " Here's poor little Ben, fayther, Y.Sve scarcely took a thing for more'n two days. He cried hisself to sleep. Look at him." She uncovered the tiny face. " He's amost like a corpse, fayther, hain't he?" "Ha!" replied the father, with a long, deep-drawn sigh, "poor little Ben ! And 'tis all along o' he we be so trubbled. Us could a spared him, Mary, without missing him, if the Lord had so a willed." " O naw, fayther," and Mary's arms went ' ound the child, as its dying mother's had done, with affectionate energy, "I couldn't a spared him, fayther — sh — sh — sh ! — naw, nor I wouldn't a spared him ^/len. There, there — sh — sh — sh ! " And so Hodge got up and went out, leaving Mary to quiet the embarrassing youngling. When, an hour later, he returned, Mary had gone to bed. As he lit the remains of the candle and it flickered up over his face, once so cleanly shaven, now bristling with the careless growth, it showed an odd light in his eyes. He moved about and made some dispositions in the room. He took off his boots and went upstairs, and out of the chest selected a few things which he brought down and made into a bundle. Then, stretching hiinself on the floor, with his bead on the bundle and his coat over him, he went to sleep. As the St reafts of morning began to brighten into a fan of long light shatk^ upon the eastern sky, the man, rising from his hard bed, donned his coat ai ' ''j*'c'''*'f. He then counted the money in his pocket, arjriAntii'i'j ic 'vo shilHngs- A CURIOUS BETHEL. 77 and ninepence, wrapping halt of it in a piece of paper which he laid on the table, and retaining half for his own use. He laid some wood for a fire, and brought in some water. Near the money on the table he put a knife and a carrot or two he had brought home the night before, so that Mary might find them ready for the morning meal. His bundle was on the table beside his stick and hat, his large clogs were placed opposite a chair ready to be put on at the last moment, whei Hodge stole upstairs to take a farewell look at his children. Here were Tummas, and Sally, and Ned, and Jack, all mingled together in glorious confusion in the corner ; there were the others on the settle, and he kissed them every one. Lastly he looked at Mary, who lay with his latest diminutive item of despair asleep on her arm. At her he looked with fast-gathering tears. "God bless ee, Mary dear. How like she look to her mother. God knows it cuts my heart, Mary, to turn my back on ee and leave ee and all the rest — it do, it do ! But I can't help *em; how can I ? There, if I goes, the Parish'U take care of 'em, and maybe eddicate 'em, and give 'em a start in ' -^ ./or]-!; but for my part, what can I do fur 'em but starve 'em ? ' > He bent over the sleeping girl. " Mary," said he, " good by. It pricks I terrible to leave ee, Mary," and a drop from his eye fell on her cheek. It disturbed her. She half opened her eyes, but .she was heavy with weariness and turned away her head again, un- conscious that she had received a parting tribute of her foither's love. " saas ^ -mir 78 LITTLE HODGE. 4 h otograpnic Sciences Cbrporation 4" ;3 WIST MAIN STRUT WliiTH.N.Y. 1 4510 (7|«) •7a-4»03 h ;\ ^ ^. ¥ 84 LITTLE HODGE. At the suggestion of some Metropolitan Unionists a singu- lar course was resolved upon. It was agreed that the battle should be fought out within the limits of Coddlcton district. A general understanding was arrived at that not a single laborer should pass the bounds into the district to help the farmers, so that the latter might be left to solve their diffi- culties with the labor that faced them. At present they felt pretty strong. The May blossoms were yet upon the hedges, their seed was in the ground, and they could for a few weeks afford to go short-handed. By the time they were ready for the men they had no doubt the latter would come in. The story of this great representative struggle I now propose to write. . .-;-. .,■■- ■ .i,^'' ..-,'; * * ■■:'■. '" "- - ■.''■, I '--■' ■' CHAPTER II. AN INARGUABLE CASE. Of all the men to whom the Laborers' Charter had given offence, Squire Byiton v/as the most offended. Manly> generous, open-hearted, with an afiection for a servant that obeyed, and a contempt for servility in a gentleman ; with a high reverence for the Church, and utter detestation of the obscure sects which spring like mushrooms under its great Gothic shadow ; with a supreme admiration fcr the estab- lished order of things, and an ineffable scorn for those who would disturb that sacred stability; putting Radicals, Infi- dels, Trade-unionists, and Nonconformists In the same pot of wrath for a day of wrath — 'twas no wonder that the bile il! AN IN ARGUABLE CASE. 85 was stirred within him by this atrocious outbreak of all the obnoxious powers in sight of the windows of his ancestral home. When he returned from the meeting at Coddleton his dis- composure was visible to his family. A large and squirely family was Mr. Byrton's. The noble-looking dame at the end of the table ; the fair-faced, clear-eyed, cherry-lipped girl at his side, with her golden-rippling tresses, his own image and eldest born : the two ruddy sisters, with their mother's brown hair and eyes ; the younger boys, sunburned and healthy, down to wee Caroline, the flaxen-curled pet of the household — the Squire could look round proudly and look forward hopefully at his family board. Emily was a woman, now one and-twenty, slender, and straight, and tall, and crested as a graceful palm-tree. What wonder that her beauty and grace had won the heart of Henry Ewbank, Esquire, Barrister-at-Law, a man on the Western Circuit, son of Sir Henry Ewbank, of Ewbank, not ten miles away from Byrton Hall? And what wonder that he, a fine young Englishman, wich a plain open face, a noble brow, a manly character, and gieat natural parts, should have attracted the affections of the somev»hat secluded girl ? Young Ewbank came out a good fourth at Cambridge, and relinquishing the sports of the country and the miserable oc- cupation of waiting for the death of a father whom he wished not to die, took to the Bar, where he was not without hope of success. Sir Henry and Mr. Byrton were of the same politics and fast County friends. The latter looked with sat" isfaction upon the projected alliance with the Ibionct's fam- 86 LITTLE HODGE 11: ily. There was only one drawback. The young man " had notioiis." He took his father's name with pride, but held his father's politics in derision. In religion and politics he thought for himself, and without the prejudices of his caste. In fact, the Squire twitted his daughter with her engagement to a "Radical." Emily Byrton bore it very calmly. To tell the truth she had used her leisure and an active mind to some purpose, and was not by any means one of the doU- lik * creatures which modern sociology depicts as an object of reform. Henry Ewbank was delighted with the freshness and earnestness of her thoughts ; but he was a prejudiced v/itness, let us not (serrate her. iVhen the Squire came home from the meeting, and, after dressing in considerable heat, sat down at his table with his face in an apoplectic state of indignation, Emily ought to have permitted him to discharge his indignation unhindered. But mischief was in her eyes and looks when she saw her father's embarrassment, and there was a sympathy in her heart she could not perhaps have suppressed. '•'■ ForwhatweareabouttoreceivetheLordmakeustrulyihankful^^ said the Squire, as if he were angry with the Almighty and meant to pay Him oft* by a suiky grace. " Well, papa, how did you get on at your meeting ? " '* Oh ! capitally — quite unanimous. We have decided on action that is sure to bring these poor fools to their senses." " Are you going to imprison them ? " " No ; I wish we could," said the Squire. " If it hadn't been for those cowardly Radicals we should have had the ii AN INARGUABLE CASE. 87 Combination Laws to use in such a case as this. There never was a wickeder conspiracy." " Do you really think there was a conspiracy, or don't you think that these poor men are really underpaid and have been forced to this of themselves ? You know Henry goes about talking to them when he is down here, and he told me they were wretchedly underpaid. He is trying to get his fa- ther to move in the matter." " Oh ! He goes about talking to them, does he ? Well, that accounts for it. We have 'viewed' the original con- spirator," said the Squire, with a grave face. " But he did not put any ideas into their heads, you know. He only asked questions ; b^jcause he told me he did not like to raise hopes that seemed to him in their present con- dition to be impossible of attainment." "Their 'present condition,' eh? What the deuce does he know about their ' present condition ' ? Sweating math- ematics and digging into law-books — he's out of the coun- try altogether." " Yes ; but, papa, he really does know a great deal about it. He has studied all sorts of questions — land-tenure, ten- ancy, rotation of crops, and political economy— you know." "Thank Heaven, I don't know! Political economy, in- deed ! It was expressly invented for the benefit of the Rad- ical party. It has nearly ruined England. What ground has political economy tc int' rfcre with a system which has existed for generations and hab worked so well ? Wliy, we have hitherto been congratulating ourselves in the country that we were exempt from the evils of that cursed town ^sii^apspK-=^i 88 LITTLE HODGE. Unionism, and here, by — by Jove ! it has broken out, of all places in the world, in my parish ! Never mind, we'll scotch the snake." "But after all, in your heart, dear papa, don't you think there is something to be said for it? I don't profess to know, but Henry says — " " I don't want to know what Henry says. The case is in- arguable. In fact, I'll tell you what, my dear, if Henry Ew- bank comes here instructing you in Radical and revolution- ary principles, I'll — " " Hush ! " cried Emily, putting her hand on his mouth, " Horsewhip him ! " said the Squire, when he could draw away the pretty teasing fingers. Whereat Ennly laughed, and then the Squire laughed ; and so the disagreeable subject went by. Emily had re- ceived a letter by the afternoon post announcing her lover's arrival on the next day from the Circuit town, but just then she discreetly said nothing about it CHAPTER III. THE MUSHROOM HAT ON ITS DEFENCE. Mr. Leicester went heartily with the Squire and the neighboring gentry. His associations, instincts, and educa- tion made tl>is natural. Though he would on behalf of the Church Missionary Society have preached with fervor from the text " 6"^^/ — hath made of one blood all nations oj meity* he could not help making, in feeling and in practice, an in- THE MUSHROOM HAT ON ITS DEFENCE. 89 sensible exception from this doctrine in favor of the English aristocracy. His sympathies would have gone down to the laborers in many acts of kindness : they never went out to them on the level of human and Christian brotherhood. How different is the benevolence of patronage from the fra- ternity of genuine charity I The Vicar thought it his duty to preach a sermon to his parishioners on the topic^ — '■'■And having food and raiment, let us be therewith content." It rather missed its aim, since those for whom it was meant were scantily represented in the free seats, but it pleased the squirearchy and the farmers who formed the congregation. They found their own ideas expressed in good English, and backed up by the authority of the Church. But there was one fly in the ointment — that was the Curate. His conduct at the meeting had much outraged the tender sensibilities of the Hankerley farmers, and became the subject of remark from Mr. Byrton to his friend. What was to become of the country, what was to become of society, what was to become of them, if the revo- lutionary projects of socialists were to be defended or even winked at by the clergy? Outside the parish there were two opinions about Mr. Linkbo/s conduct. Some of the clerical newspapers employed the choicest epithets to characterize his interference ; others of his own color seemed inclined to vindicate him. In the journals of heretic Radi- calism however the High Church Curate for once received applause, Mr. Leicester deemed it his duty to reprehend the young man's boldness. " My dear sir," he argued, " there are many points about ■pi 90 LITTLE HODGE. which you and I are very seriously at variance, but which I am content to overlook because of my general approval of your zeal and sincerity. So long as these are mere matters of conscience, and do not bring the Church into collision with the society that surrounds it, I can afford to overlook them. But if you step beyond this to interfere in a purely social contention, or throw the influence you have as a minister of the Church into one scale or the other, you ex- ceed your duty and place both yourself and me in a very embarrassing position." " I am sorry, sir," replied Mr. Linkboy, " to hear you seem to admit that the office of peacemaker is departed from Christ's ministry. Has the time gone by when we shall be called the children of God? The people who have been complaining of me must be infatuated bigots on their side of the question, for I did not interfere in favor of either party. I interposed when there was danger of a collision. I believe your own generous spirit would have led you to do the same if you had been there." The Vicar winced. He was the very man to have done what he felt himself now obliged to condemn. For that reason he was harder on the fault. He began — "We have nothing to do with this matter — " " Pardon me, sir," said the Curate, " I seriously dispute that. I think we have a clear duty in this matter. I have satisfied myself in many visits, not always accepted with the cordiality I should have wished, that the condition of these agricultural laborers is a shame to the land they live in." " Yes, that is obvious to us all ; but I must take leave to THE MUSHROOM HAT ON ITS DEFENCE. 9I =j«r say that undue sympathy is more sentimental than practical. The condition of the laborer is due to circumstances we can neither control nor affect. We can only mitigate it by charity and proper administration of the Poor-law. The age resents the interference of enthusiasts in affairs purely economic. Our mission as Christian ministers is not to re- dress civil and social wrongs by political action. We must be content to spread the leaven of the principles of Christ." " But not to show their practical application ? " said Mr. Linkboy, warmly. " Oh, sir, I cannot so read my duty. Conscience carries me beyond that." " I do not wish to fetter your liberty of conscience in any way, Mr. Linkboy," replied the Vicar ; " but I see so much danger in the kindly, though mistaken views you hold on this question, that I am really forced to speak very plainly, and to say that I cannot assent to your taking any further part in this serious quarrel. Great as is my regard for you, any further manifestation of the sympathies which I now see clearly you entertain must lead to consequences painful to both of us. You will place the Church in the false position of being opposed to the harmony of classes and the estab- lished order of things." " A false position, sir ? " cried Mr. Linkboy, with indis- creet animation. " The Church and the world are natural antagonists. What if the harmony of classes be the still monotony of death, and the established order of things the mere permanence of oppression and wrong ? The kingdom of peace came also not to bring peace but a sword —it has no truce with wrong, and sin, and evil-doing, and fraud." "Vts^' 92 LITTLE HODGE. " My young friend," said Mr. Leicester, sincerely, " let me caution you against generalities. They dejitroy many a man's balance of mind and impair his usefuln(;ss. They are so plausible and often so inapplicable. Christ never came to set class against class." With this triumphant generality Mr. Leicester brought the interview to a close. V CHAPTER IV. A NOAH'S dove. When, on the morning of Hodge's flight, Mary awoke, she wondered why her father had left his bed so early. Then, having looked out of the window and seen how far the sun had come up the eastern sky, she became frightened to find that she had overslept herself After dressing two or three of the younger fry, leaving the rest to scramble into their clothes as best they could, she came downstairs with Little Hodge. The dispositions her father had made struck her with some surprise. She guessed from these that he had gone for the day. Not only that ; this unusual atten- tion and the small packet of money suggested the fear that his absence must have something to do with the conversa- tion of last night ; but she cheered herself with the thought that he might have gone somewhere to seek better wages or to get some assistance. The long day passed, while she swept, and scrubbed, and washed, and patched away ; and out of the money on the table Tummas was able to get the A noah's dove. 93 baby some good milk, so that the household was not so cast down with the loss of its head as might have been expected. In the afternoon Mrs. Nollekens came in with something in her hand for Little Hodge, ready to give an hour's assistance to Mary in reviewing the remnants of the children's clothing. Her verdict was decisive. " They bain't fit for gypsies and vagabones, let alone a decent family." *' Fayther do say he can't afford to get we any more. He do feel it terrible. He went away afore daylight without his breakfast. Do ee think, Missus Nollekens, as he have no noshuns about hisself?" Mrs. Nollekens on this information shrewdly cross-ques- tioned Mary, and, though she kept it to herself, suspected the truth. She put it to her own mind that it was exactly the course that coward Tim Nollekens would have pursued. Her heart smote her, too, for the terrible suggestion she had made to Hodge flashed across her mind and made her uneasy. She stayed, however, as long as she could, comb- ing out the hair of all the children with a vigor and con- scientiousness that they never forgot, and left the whole family improved and brightened by her visit. That night Mary remained up a long time after the others had gone to bed. Through the long, quiet gloaming of the fast-coming summer, far into the darkness, she sat listening for her father's step. He did not come. She carried the baby upstairs and lay awake on the bed. In the terrible, protracted silence it seemed as if she could hear a great pulse throbbing in her ears ; but no sound disturbed her, 11 mm 94 LITTLE HODGE. and by and by she fell asleep. In her uneasy dreams now and then she cried out, " Fayther ! Fayther ! " but the dark- ness gave no answer. Morning came, and sunlight, and the opening of the balm-breathing lips of waking summer, but her eyes did not rest on the familiar form heavy with sleep. So that day passed, and the next, and the next, and Mary and the neighbors became seriously alarmed. Nolle- kens turned round on his wife rather sharply. " Ay ! ee were too cruel to him ! Do ee recklect how ee told him to cut his throat ? Maybe he've a gone and done it. Thoe'lt have him laid to thy chairge." Mrs. Nollekens gave the best proof of her remorse by holding her tongue. On the third day the news had spread that John Hodge had disappeared. Mr. Jolly made inquiries, and sent for the relieving-officer. By this time Mary was in great dis- tress. The scrap of paper now covered only a few half- pence, and the clothes problem had ceased to have some of its terms. On the fourth day the relieving-officer came and examined Mary. He was not consoled. Eleven children were thrown on the parish as clear ai daylight. They were destitute of food and clothing, and must be taken into the workhouse. The Union Committee of the laborers how- ever, scanty as were their funds, resolved to take charge of Mary and Little Hodge, and Mrs. Nollekens received them into her house. The rest were removed to the Union, ^feantime a large placard was posted about the country offering a reward for John Hodge's apprehension. It was A NOAII'S DOVE. 95 in characters large enough for the hue and cry after a mur- derer. There was Scripture text for treating the fugitive as worse than an infidel. Mr. Mce procured a warrant from a justice, no other than the Vicar of Hankerley, to arrest Hodge as " a rogue and vagabond," and this having been duly backed, a parish constable was sent off to other coun- ties in search of him. As for Hodge, his ideas in levanting had been very hazy. All earthly means failing him, I, who know of his narrow education and as narrow experience, cannot condemn him for his distnist of Providence. Providence is a Deity more preached about than believed in through the country dis- tricts, where, with ample spiritual teaching in theory, there is a great deal of practical infidelity. This poor man's ap- peal to Providence to bless him in the act of running away from his family, was a curious display of the mistiness of his mind about the God he confessed : a notable commentary on the beautiful adaptability of an Established Church to the spiritual requirements of the age. His immediate intentions in getting away were to make for a seaport town, whence he fondly imagined he could get translated to Canada. There was a tradition in Hankerley of a former Hankerley man who, emigrating to Canada, had made a fortune ; and this local historic tale so strongly laying hold of the fancies of the unlettered people among whom it floated, was a proof of the power that might be brought to bear upon the imaginations of our rural communities, were there an official class capable of apprehending its issues and willing to avail themselves of its aid. This then was the HI 96 LITTLE HODGE. vague idea with which Hodge started. Two or three days' walking with inquiries of the way to London — which he believed to be the nearest seaport town — brought him up with a grinri question : How vas he to live till he got there ? Here and there kindly folk, answering the queries of the sad- looking man, gave him help along with information ; but every day seemed to make his course more hopeless. Reaching ot length a county town, and passing wearily and hungrily along its main str( ct, he might, among the won- drous sights he saw, have read on the police-board outside the town-hall the proclamation for his own arrest. But he could not read. As it was, his attention was called to it by a familiar voice, while a hand was laid on his shoulder ami Philip Nokes, the constable at Hankerley, claimed him for his prisoner. Hodge was so beaten and broken-down that he never said a word, and went with the man like a child. Philip did not reproach him ; he only told him he was sorry he was obliged to take him back. And so in silence the two returned to Hankerley, where Hodge was secured in the lockup. * » CHAPTER V. A UKASE ON BRITISH SOIL. Emily's lover arrived at P>yrton Hall, to meet a welcome from old and young, excepting the Squire, who would at this juncture rather not have had the Tactious young Radical about him. Mr. Byrton felt himself nervous and irritable, w mm -«i^i(p-i A UKASE ON BRITISH SOIL. 97 and doubted his own ability to support even the presence of any one not sympathizing with his views and designs. He had caused his steward to issue a notice to the tenants and laborers on his estate declaring his hostility to the Union, and stating that he, as the feudal lord of the district, " felt a heavy responsibility with regard to the !iature of the rela- ticns existing between the people on his estates." He had " v/bserved with pain that the cordiality and goodwill which ought to exist between the laborers and bis tenants was in danger of being broken by the interference of meddlesome agitators," whose hostility to the Throne, Church, and Con- stitution needed no proof " Under (sk) these circumstances, T feel myself compelled to take such steps as shall tend to ensure to the farmer on the one hand immunity from the dangerous practices of improper combination, and the la- borer on the other hand from the irterestv.d schemes of Com- munists, Internationalists, and agitators. With the view of . securing these things, I have caused notices to be served on all those laborers who hold cottages or allotments directly from mc that their joining tne Union will lead to their evic- tion, and I invite such of my tenants as have control of the cottages on their faniis to co-operate with mc in enforcing this rule. In this way alone can be secured a supply of effec- tive labor without ruin to the farmer, nnd v/ithout embar- rassing the kindly relations that have always existed, by the introduction of principles subversive of social order and economy." Young Ewbank read this paper with amazement and chagrin. It was not merely the bad English that he dcpre 98 LITTLE HODGE. cated. He implored his prospective father-in-law to recall it, but received for his j^ains a sound rating. As his own father joined the Squire in his proceedings, an appeal to him was useless. He contented himself with visiting the cot- tagers, urging them to be moderate in their demands, to avoid the pitfalls of Unionism, and to adhere to their present programn.i. By this time a large sum of money was in the hands of the Committee, and they were able to keep in tol- erable comfort all those who were on strike. Moreover the Squire and his coadjutors were mortified to find that, angry as the farmers were, some were not disposed to ruin them- selves for the sake of a principle, and that in a week or two they were beginning to pick up Union men at advanced wages to save their crops from disaster. You may appeal to men's selfishness to act with you up to the point at which they have a hope or a certainty of profiting by the co-oper- ation ; but let a stronger appeal be made to the same point from another quarter, and they are likely to discard princi- ples and leave you in the lurch. ♦ CHAPTER VI. justices' justice and statutes at large. Hodge was brought up at a Petty Sessions. The Justi- ces were no other than the Vicar and the Squire. In rural life society interlocks and overlaps in an amazing way. One justice who is a brewer applies for the licenses of his public- houses to brother justices, who may be connected with him /" justices' justice, etc. 99 by marriage or may regularly hunt the country with him. A tenant may prosecute a laborer before their common land- lord. In the present instance two ex-officio Guardians were sitting as judges in a case wherein the Board of Guardians was interested. This was in strict accordance with an Act of Parliament. Hodge did not detect the anomaly. He had for all his life seen these gentlemen adjudicating on everything that concerned his class. If they had ordered him to be hanged he would scarcely have questioned their authority. He stood up in the Court-room, a grimy man, with his head bent, his eyes red and watery, his hair tossed, his feat- ures drawn together in exquisite pain — a pain to look at ! — a crestfallen-looking knave enough. The Squire's respect- able, healthy face looked like a rouged Si)hynx, he had fixed his features in so hard a cast. Mr. Leicester's teeth no lon- ger shone benignly towards his parishioner, but were shut in by indignant lips. The gentlemen thought that the man had been guilty of one of the most unmanly acts whereof an Englishman could be accused, and regarded him with as much sternness as they would have felt towards a poacher — and that is saymg a good deal. However they spoke in gentle, quiet tones. When Hodge looked round the Court his ey fell on Mrs. Nollekens and Mary, the latter carrying Liitle Ben in her arms. He averted his glance and bent down his head still deeper. He did not notice a young gentleman who sat near the dock, in a place devoted to legal personages, and who lOO LITTLE HODGE. seemed very uneasy. Henry Evvbank was fidgeting about on his seat in a way that attracted the Squire's attention. Mr. Mee and the relieving-officer appeared. They testi- fied to the fact that the children had been found in a shocking state of destitution, almost without clothes, hungry as sparrows, and apparently quite neglected. In the course of the somewhat desultory evidence given on these points the Squire asked the relieving-officer — " Is it supposed that the prisoner drank ? " "Well, sir, he've generally had a good character for soberness, and I can't say nothing agen him in that par- tikler." *' Then what has he done with his money? " O Truth ! from the high just Heavens answer for him to British Justice, IV/taif has he done with his money ? " No one don't know," replied the functionary. '* He don't seem to have spent it all at home from the look of the place." Here a shrill small voice spoke out in incisive tones that startled the Court — "Theer't a liar, hossifer I Fayther have a given we every penny he've earned all along. He don't earn no more'n nine shillin' a week." " Ay 1 and eleven of *em to take care on," added Mrs. Nollekens, in a curious treble. " WTiat do ee stand there for and talk such nonsense as that there to the magis- .trates?" " Silence in the Court ! " cried the Clerk. Mr. Leicester gently reproved the interrupters. "T- JUSTICES' JUSTICE, ETC. lOI " Is this his little girl ? " asked the Vicar. "Yes, sir." " Step forward." And Mary bearing Little Hodge, whose tiny face turned round amused as he fixed his eyes alternately on the Justices above him, came to the front, and being put on her mettle, she, between questions and confessions and comments of her own, told the story of Hodge's life for the last three months, Hodge listening with his face in his hands. The Vicar's features relaxed ; the Squire's muscles refused any longer to affect the Sphynx. " Fayther ain't done nothing wrong, sir. Ee wouldent ha' hurt a fly. He've a been away trying to get more work, sir. Don't ee go to punish him for that, sir. It's all along o' this baby, since mother died, sir. Let him off this time, sir." Mary and Little Hodge began a concert together too dis- tracting to be borne, and she was led for awhile out of Court. Had the case ended here Hodge would have come off lightly. Put sensible men in a good humor, opposite some monstrous solecism in our laws, and they will find some way of defeat- ing it. But the prisoner was asked by the Clerk whether he had anything to say in his defence. And then, the man be- ing desperate, and his whole soul within him raging with combined remorse and sense of wrong, he burst out *ihus: " What I've a got to say in my defence ? Nawtkin' ! 1 don't care to defend myself. You genlcmen a settin' there 've a knowed me all my life, an' there ain't a soul *live can say one evil word about me afore this time. I've alius lived I02 LITTLE HODGE. honest, an' I meant to die honest, but you'd never a let me. I went to Varmer Jolly — ee's here an' can say so — an' axed him for the wa^es I 'vere righteously a earnin', but he wouldn't help me. I went to you, sir, snidyou wouldent do nothin' for sich as I. 'Twere no use to try to keep myself and the childern at starvashun-pint, were it ? I might have a made out to muggle along if so be Mister Jolly would a rised my wages, or the Union could a kept on taken care o* this last poor little un, till sich time as I might a married some'un to keep the childern tidy; but I were a starvin, genlemen ! and if so be you were a starvin you wouldent stop to think. 'Twere no use for I to try to manage with all they childern, and do a day's work in the bargain, on the wittles I've been a livin' on. I do say no man can be hon- est on the wages we be a gettin. Till sich time as the Union had a forced the farmers to rise the wages there wern't nothing for I but runnin' away, so fur as I see." " What ! Are you one of these Union men, then ? " inter- posed the Squire. "Yes, I be," replied the prisoner, sullenly. " If you please, your honor, he is one of the originators of it," said Farmer Jolly, thus throwing in gratis a piece of un- sworn evidence. Ewbank squirmed about on his seat most distractedly. "Quite a dangerous character," said the Justice. The two constables in the Court, looking gravely at the broken- hearted Hodge,, v^vinced an intelligent acquiescence in this dictum. " A dingerous character indeed ! Deserting his children, and a Unionist ! (In an undertone.^ Well, Mr. 'l\ mm ■■ mmm justices' justice, etc. 103 Clerk, I suppose the case is closed, eh ? Guilty by his own confession. There is nothing more to be done but to pass sentence ? ". The Clerk nodded. He had been looking up the law for the Justices, and now handed up the well-worn " Burns " to the gentlemen on the bench. A little colloquy ensued, in which the Clerk took part. Then the Squire cleared his throat. Young Mr. Ewbank's uneasiness increased. He half stood up and seemed about to speak, but he sat down again, and tlie Squire said : *' John Hodge, you have been brought before us charged with an offence happily rare in these parts. In an experi- ence of five-and-thirty years as a Guardian and as a magis- trate, I have never met with a case in all its points so aggra vated. I shall not refer to the fact that, by your own admis- sion, you are associated with those unprincipled persons who are endeavoring to introduce into this district the nefarious and tyrannical system of Trade unionism. On that I say nothing, except that it is an indication of your general dis- position of which the Bench is bound to take notice. But you are charged on behalf of the Guardians of Coddleton Union with the specific offence of deserting your children. You, the father of eleven little ones, whom God had given you to nourish and cherish," said the Squire, with deep solemnity, " basely abandoned them, and, for all you knew, left them to perish I " " • " Oh, naw, naw, naw ! " cried little Mary from the door, in shrill passion. "He never meant to do no harm to wel" I04 LITTLE HODGE. " Remove that person from the Court," said the Justice ; and when the order had been executed, amidst some under- tone comments of Mrs. Nollekens and wringing of hands of poor Hodge, the magistrate proceeded — " Now the law is quite clear. You are charged before us to-day — and justly charged — as a rogue and vagabond " Hodge started, and the fire kindled in his eyes. " Yes, as a rogue and vagabond^ and on due proof to be punished as such. Under the Vagrancy Act, 5th George the Fourth, chapter 83 — * Every person running away leaving his wife or his or her children chargeable^ or whereby she or any of them shall become chargeable to any parish^ township^ or place — shall be deemed a rogue and vagabond within the true intent and meaning of this Act.^ This is a salutary pro- vision nearly as old as the Poor-law itself, for by a much earlier Act it was enacted that * all such persons so running away should be taken and deemed to be incorrigible rogues, and endure the pain of incorrigible rogues.' Your offence has been aggravated by the nature of your defence." — The Justice was here interrupted by the entrance of a man, whose appearance created some sensation in the Court. It was Sammy Stedman ; and Henry Ewbank, beckoning him to his side, engaged in an eager conversation with him. ** — You have defended your course," proceeded the Justice, " by statements both untrue and intolerable, and this has led us to consider it our duty to make an example of you. Your sentence is that you be committed to the House of Correction, there to be kept at h''»-d labor for the space of six weeks." ■M^ justices' justice, etc. 105 " O good Godamitey ! " said Mrs. Nollekens, in search- ing tones. " You'll suffer for this ! An' you, a parson, a sittin by and taken part with him ! Sure as there be a God above — " Her eloquence was dexterously stifled by the big hand of a constable, and she was carried out of Court in an attitude of vigorous protest. It was then that Samu./ Stedman stood up beside young Ewbank and said, bluntly — " Hold, gentlemen ! I understand this whole affair is illegal. You have no jurisdiction ! " " Sit down, sir ! What right have you to address the Bench?" " The right of any honest Englishman, your honor, who sees an injustice about to be perpetrated," said young Ewbank, unable to restrain himself any longer. " The man is right, sir. The Court can have no jurisdiction by the principles of Magna Charta, because the Justices are parties to the prosecution." The Squire was livid. He made a tremendous effort to command himself, and failed. "Henry, are you mad?" he shouted. "Sit down, sir! I— I— eh ? What ? "—to the Clerk. The latter had risen to whisper to him. " Sentence has been pronounced," said the Clerk. " The jurisdiction is statutory, Mr. Ewbank. Remove the pris- oner ! " The young barrister had fallen into a serious error. His zeal entirely overran his discretion and exceeded his knowl- edge. His principles were better than his law. No won- io6 LITTLE HODGE. n der. He might well have believed that English law would not have been disgraced by so monstrous an anomaly : he could only credit, when examination had proved it, that on the contrary it was .xpressly enacted. Outside of London there can be no case in which the Guardians are concerned wherein the Justices themselves, who are all ex-officio Guardians, are not parties ; an3 if it be supposed that, as « Guardian and Judge, the Justice is equally disinterested, one needs only to study the above instance to convince him that a person who has already decided on a case in a less responsible and more informal tribunal, is not a fit person to try the same question where it affects the liberty of one of Her Majesty's lieges. IPD PART IV, THE CLIMAX OF DISUNION. CHAPTER I. I A WELCOME HOME. Round and round went the treadmill with diurnal regular- ity, and up and down upon its urgent steps the prisoner at fixed intervals pursued his Sisypheian task. Round and round turned the great wheel of Time, and up and down went the weary feet of Poverty upon the relentless boards as they came up to the tread, until the whole head grew dizzy aiid the whole heart faint, and even the Angel of Hope, last of heavenly things to be lost to the eye of Despair, was blinded from sight. Round and round went the great mill of Labor, and behold, strong and earnest, weak and wicked ones trod it side by side, ever moving but never upwards, striving sometimes to stay the fatal motion or to cast them- selves down from their bewildering toil, but ever finding their feet drawn down by the magnets of Necessity and forced to plod on again in a monotonous mimicry of ascent. Round, too, went the wheel of human Hope, carrying on its circle a few happy yeomen earnest in their work, who mounted painfully but surely, step by step, towards higher and better things. Round rolled the year, bearing with it to its close the aging, tiring hearts, minds, and bodies of the io8 LITTLE HODGE. t ' I great world, with all their aggregating griefs ; and as its hours came and went, there was poor Emily Byrton, weep- ing, her lover — no longer admitted to be hers, forbidden the threshold he used so cheerily to cross — counting the hours with palpitati'^ig heart and secret tears, or bravely struggling to master a grief that would not be comforted. For the day when Henry Ewbank chose to give way to his generous but inconsiderate impulse, he had received from a servant as he left the court a hastily-written note in the Squire's hand. It warned him that he had irremediably forfeited Mr. Byr- ton' s confidence. It interdicted any further intercourse with his daughter — "a decision which I communicate to the son of my oldest and warmest friend with deep pain, but from a clear sense of duty. Your sympathies have run away with your judgment. Your law was as bad as your act, and you have made a fool of yourself." Young men of precocious abilities and natural generosity should be cautious nowa- days to carry themselves with extreme restraint. 'Xis unsafe to be too candid in political thought. Premature disclosure of ideas and sympathies, however right, may ruin a man long before the time has come when it is safe to avow them, yet he may live to see others rise upon the advocacy of opinions that blasted his success. Ewbank was too honorable to take advantage of Emily's devotion to him. He bore the separation like a man, and gave himself up with renewed energy to the practice of his profession. Round and round went the mill in the House of Correc- tion, and round rolled the great wheel of Time. We will not follow John Hodge over those painful steps A WELCOME HOME. 109 Indeed, die shame weighed him down more than anything else. Meanwhile Little Hodge and Mary thrived under Mrs. NoUekens's care. It was cleverly managed by the authorities that Hodge's release from the House of Correction should concur with the return of his family from the work- house. When he had, with shamefaced looks, trudged home, he met the deputy and nine of his children at the door of his cottage. I wish I could describe the meeting. The officer was not unkind. He had brought the key of the cottage and some food. He said, however — "It's now your meet and right and bounding duty to take keer of these young uns. Master, and don't ee go to evade it. You'll be watched pretty close now, I tell ee, so don't ee go fur to run away again." Hodge answered not. He looked dreamily at his children, who set up a loud and bitter cry. It scared the relieving- officer away. The decision of the Justices had been so consistent with the general course of English law as to be the least utili- tarian and most expensive result that could have been effected. It cost the country near upon two hundred pounds, which, at Hodge's rate of wages, would have main- tained him and his family in luxury for about four years : two statements not necessarily related to each other, but worth making. mm 1 no LITTLE HODGE. CHAPTER II. THE AGONIES OF SOLUTION. The eyes of the country were now fixed upon the struggle going on in the district of Coddleton. An old system was on its trial ; and in truth, it had been rudely shaken. The State-in-which-it-has-pleasecV Providence- to-place-you theory, which had for generations determined the circumstances of life for their forefathers and fathers, and was still the gospel of clergy and squires, was found to be no longer applicable to the case of Hodge and Little Hodge, and the Hodges to come. That parental or patronal relation in iigriculture, "so unlike all other relations of master and laborer, and therefore not lightly to be interfered with," seemed to be in danger, and not to be the eternal institution a fond bucolic faith had pictured it. Commercial principles were pushing their way into this rustic, romantic, half-domestic community. Hinds were asserting the right of combination. Political economy had broken loose from the wicked town and was wildly careering about the innocent country. Meantime the Laborers' Union pursued its way with varying success. Large subscriptions after a tune enabled the infant Union to establish itself on a strong financial basis, and this peculiarity in its formation gave it additional power in its first passes with the employers. It met their refusals by withdrawing men and sending them to the North of England or deport- ing then, to Canada and New Zealand. But for the sim- plicity and honesty of the leaders, these funds might have ■ mimm w" ■appMH^ THE AGONIES OF SOLUTION. Ill been a source of danger; but they were administered as if the men had subscribed them, and the surplus was carefully invested. Every effort was mad(j to induce the members to keep up their subscriptions through the summer, Sammy Stedman urging upon them tne duty of thrift and s,elf- restraint in preparation for the winter. He had anticipated that then the farmers would find some practical mode of re- venge. Thus was brought home to many men who had never thought of it before, the practice of economy ; while there was set before them a worthy reason and object in its exercise. The value of this lesson was long afterwards evinced in a variety of ways. As harvest came on the lock-out collapsed. No laborers, as we have seen, would come in from any other part of the country. An atteiiipt to import Irishmen failed. China and India were not convenient enough to supply harvest- men ij outwitted capitalists, f To government would have dared to intervene in the dispute by supplying soldiers to do the work. The farmers could only come to terms. Wages went up, the men went in. There was coolness. There were muttered threats about "biding the time," but for the present not a man was evicted. During the harvest the farmers admitted that their work had never been better done. They found that the increased pay had wrought some magnetic change on the hobbledehoys of last year. Sammy Stedman used Hodge's case with great art. Hodge was represented as the first martyr of agricultural union. Litde Hodge became a proverbial emblem of the laborers* need and helplessness. The Rev. Baptist Bunyan preached mm ira LlTTLii liODGE. upon that tiny mortal from the text, " O Lord, how long ? " immediately exclaiming, " Twenty-two inches and not weigh- ing seventeen pounds." Mr. Leicester and Mr. Byrton were terribly scathed by Radical journals. The Tory papers eulogized them for the mettle they had shown in an age when it was fashionable to truckle to the democracy. The Union meanwhile had adopted rules to regulate strikes which, had the employers taken the trouble to read them, ought to have quieted their alarm. Violence was forbidden. No strike was to take place without a month's clear notice ; and, that there might bt no temptation to take unfair ad- vantage of the necessities of liarvcst-time, they se' tied that in the absence of notice or a special agreement, the rate of wages ruling at the outset of harvest was to hold good throughout. Th'^ number of hours of a day's work was fixed, and overtime was to be paid extra. No rules were adopted to restrict the number of apprentices or to limit the division of labor. The most arbitrary provision was that forbidding the employment of women in field-work — a rule dictated by a healthy sentiment, but certainly not consistent with per- sonal freedoiii. On the whole, the association when calmly examined was simply a fair and not injudicious combination to win the laborer a standing-ground on a level with the wage-payer. But landlords, farmers, and priests chose to ignore all these elements of good, and clothed the innocent Union with all the terrors of Jactjuerie. They fought a myth that did not exist, and themselves raised issues the others had never thought of. It was alleged that the Union would become a political institution ; and, indeed, no act tending MM^HIliihawMMlHMMi ^.i...^. THE AGONIES OF SOLUTION "3 to convert it into one was foregone by its opponents. The Church was said to be endangered by tb.e excitement among the yokels ; and in the result the yokels began to consider what that meant, and to accept the issue. The land ques- tion was averred by terrified peers and squires to be it the bottom of the agit£*tion ; and, of course, the tears of these persons suggested to real agitators a new article in their pro- gramme. Thus the obstinacy, folly, and prejudice of one side excited the passions and avidities of the other. Coddleton forthwith absorbed a great part cf the amateur and professional managers of political reforms. The puz- zled rustics were assailed by emigration agents : they were told that their emancipation would depend on woman-suf- frage : they learned that unless the Outrageous Distempers Acts were repealed the regeneration of the agricultural la- borer was a matter of uncertainty : they listened to abstract essays or crude diatribes against the tenure of land by any private individual whatever, and dimlv imagined how mat- ter, would be when it ^vas all administered for their good by an impersonal power named the State : or they were as- sured that the improvement of their condition was intimately connected with the downfall of the Church. Indeed there was no " movement," with or without the machinery of a league, of which representatives did not rush into Coddle- ton to saddle its principles on the coming TJnion, Much as there was of the grotesque in this, it was natural. These people had been shut out of the world and its policies ; now they were like Joash the king— an infant brought out uf hid- ing to take his part at ruling, and suddenly called upon to 8 T« "^f 114 LITTLE HODGE exercise judgment upon unknown conditions. If one were inclined to blame some of the busybodies who did not re- member that there was a time to embrace and a time to refram from embracing reforms, as well as lovers, it should not be overlooked how much of this was, as we have seen, provoked and prompted by the policy adopted on the other side. A manly, candid, generous treatmePc of the Coddleton Unionists might have restrained both parties from unnatural hostilities, and have prolonged the safety of institutions which afterwards trembled in the balance. But old institutions on their defence are often as blind as Jacob, without the same method in their blindness. Interveners were not wanting on the other side. It also had its agitators ; but as they came in the guise of Peers and Ecclesiastics, of Baronets and Members of Parliament, their whimsies on the part of "law and order" were reported in the newspapers and approved by the organs of the Philis- tines. The cleverest pencil in England, often so nobly em- ployed, basely lent itself in the interest of property to cari- cature in the grossest manner the advocates of weakness against injustice — and humanity against selfishness. What- ever represented privilege, property, land, ranged itself against the Coddleton Unionist^ and their friends. The Bench of Bishops, before whom — as vice-regents in the Church on behalf of Her Majesty and its other Head in Heaven — all men were of equal standing, afforded a few specimens of hierarchs too farsighted and too piiilosophical to hail with sympathy an effort for the development of better earthly conditions, of truer freedom, and (more serious mat- THE AGONIES OF SOLUTION. "5 ter !) of greater power, in a class hitherto looked upon as the Heaven-ordained slaves of property and the least trouble- some numerical units of a State Church. God Ibrbid we should reprehend these ecclesiastics unduly or assail them with malice. Fortunately they did not wholly represent their Church. They chose their own point of Church de- fence, and manifested, no doubt, an honest idea of the Church's position and duty. If any one or all of them pre- fer to show the Church banded with property against poverty, with land against labor, with Manchester economy against social science, with ecclesiastical privilege against free thought, surely they have counted the cost and are willing to endure all things — even the formulation of their views by an alien from their commonwealth. As vicars of Christ, they must be Accredited with sincerity of heart and purity from the taint of flesh. If to a spectator there seem to be something ironical in their situation, it is of their own choice, and they are voluntary martyrs to the satire of facts. Mr. Byrton was so honestly impressed with the idea that the laborers were being misled by interested revolutionaries, that his activity in promoting the diffusioii of correct princi- ples of economy, and of proper ideas of the relations of classes, was unceasing. A Bishop was invited to stay at Byrton Hall, and lectured the men of Hankerlcy on the providential dispensation of labor and the superiority of good-feeling over the selfishness of good wages. His rcdec- tion« on the danger of agitation were crude and harsh. Were I to report what he said it would not be believed. He was sorry for it afterwards, but was too infallible to say so. '<•>« «• ii6 LITTLE HODGE. A Peer, celebrated for his abilities, deemed it to be his duty to speak upon the question. He remarked that as the laborers had formed a Union, it was impossible to overlook the fact. He therefore urged the farmers to take cognizance of it. He pointed out that there was nothing illegal in com- bination, even though it were promoted by " agitators," — but he thought these ought to be scotched. He also laid down the principle that men were entitled to remuneration for their labor, aiid therefore ought to have it. He said that if they asked too much they could not get it. On the other hand, if the employer offered too little he could not have the labor. " Therefore," he said, " you see clearly that there are inevit- able principles regulating these questions, and they must be recognized and acted upon. No other solution is possible." Etcetera. The farmers were puzzled to apprehend the sim- plicity of this solution, but they cheered the Peer because he had the reputation for conmion-sense. The only other person one need mention is Sir Walter Waggington, Bart., M.P., who had ulterior views not easily justified, and somewhat undefmed, even to himself. There never was so kind a man who aspired to statesmanship. His face was the prow of a radiant and smooth-sliding State- gondola. He had been a Tory minister : he was now a social reformer. No man was so eager to reconcile the irreconcilable and to win a Conservative success on Social- istic principles. He was in favor of restricted revolution. He talked enough Communism to have hanged a Commu- nist. He had discovered that the age was progressive : he desired that it should progress and Toryism triumph. He s-^-.jbbbip' mmmmmtmmimim ":m^- -¥% THE AGONIES OF SOLUTION, 117 ascertained that the working-man • had hopes : he tried to foster them — they lent sunshine to a dreary life. In his view every laborer should have a cottage, some land and a cow. He objected to the man's claiming it, or conspiring to get it, or trying to force it from a reluctant class, or obtaining it by modifications of the law or by purcliase ; he desired to give it to him by Act of Parliament, if it could be done without interfering with the existing status. True, the only solution on that condition was the reclamation of the North Sea, but he did not say so. Sufficient unto the day was the discovery thereof The amount of sympathy that the genial features and timid socialism of Sir Walter Waggington drew from *' Constitutional working-men " was marvellous. If cniel criticasters in political economy or mde and incredulous Radicals among the lower orders laughed good-naturedly at his vagaries, it was not strange. The world was not worthy of him. It would have been more worthy had it recognized his claims to leadership and made him the head of a Minis- try. But it would not. Meantime, even in adversity, he was the manly, good-hearted gentleman. He said in his vague, plethoric, and involuted style to the Hankerley labor- ers : "My friends, happiness does not depend upon wealth. Happiness depends on something far higher — upon a thank- ful spirit, a contented mind. The poor man possessed of these attributes has within him elements of happiness which the rich man is entirely destitute of, provided he does not properly discharge the duties of his station. In my belief (and I am by no means apt to exaggerate, and will not ask ^•'wm urnpot^p ."^W "W Ii8 LITTLE HODGE. I you to overrate the blessings you enjoy) the laborers have no occasion to be led by any union, or to be led astray by dis- contented agitators. I apprehend that what they mainly stand in want of throughout the country are three things, namely, better education, better houses, and better food. If these requirements were looked to, legislated for, and promoted, the laborers would cease to be the dupes of those who fostered a spirit of discontent, and would lead far better and nobler lives." All this the laborers enthusiastically applauded. And this was all they got from their patronizing friends. The Peer and the Bishop and the Baronet preached contentment, or cursed agitation, and went their way. That rugged old Free- Churchman, Republican, and Communist, the Apostle James, measured with cruel accuracy the tether of such philanthropy as this : /f a brother or sister be naked and destitute of daily foody and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace ; be ye warmed and filled ; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body ; what doth it profit 1 Hi « CHAPTER III. AN ANTIDOTE TO PROSELYTISM. Farmer Jolly could not afford to do without any of his men, and consequently for a few weeks there was plenty in the house of Hodge. His wages of sixteen shillings a week enabled him to get Little Hodge looked after and set Mary «.•*- S?* '•*«(< AN ANTIDOTE TO PROSELYTISM. 119 of his inty in week Mary free for the gleaning. Hodge became a member of the Union Committee, wherein he developed an unexpected amount of good sense and shrewdness. Each parish, indeed, had its little branch. There, for the first time, many a village hind learned the art of public business — an art in its dissemina- tion so precious to Englishmen — so essential to the safety of the State. Mr. Jolly had a favorite ploughman, to whom he gave sixteen shillings a week, and who had hitherto proved deaf to the blandishments of the Unionists. He was a man, however, and had felt some sympathy for Hodge ; and though with country cunning he took care not to divulge his opinions to his master, he very much approved of the Union movement. When Richard Roe saw that the result of the combination had been to raise the wages of inferior men nearly up to the level of his own, and found that Farmer Jolly seemed in no hurry to re-establish the former propor- tion, his soul was vexed within him. He asked himself what had been gained by cutting loose from his fellows? He had been told that the Union rule would be a uniform rate of wages, but he found that Hodge and others were receiv- ing two or three shillings more than less capable men — in fact, that the Union had driven the farmers not only to a general rise of wages, but, as a result of that, to adopt the principle of natural selection, and to pay better laborers higher wages. So Richard Roe went over in the dusk of a September evening to confer with Hodge voon the thoughts that burned within his brain. It is not the conversation, but tlie result with which we have to do Roe had finally de* ""'"^IP'^PP I20 LITTLE HODGE. cided to join the Union, and was leaving the house, when he saw the burly form of Farmer Jolly getting over the stile from the road, and coming up the footpath that led past Hodge's cottage to the farm-house. The farmer had been at the monthly dinner of the Hankerley Agricultural Club, and was not only primed with fresh wrath against the Unionists, but with bad wine. His quick eye lighted on the familiar form of his ploughman stealing away in the gloaming from Hodge's house. " Hallo ! D — n it, is that you, Roe, coming from that d — d Unionist's house?" " Aye, sir, it be I." Jolly ran forward and seized him by the throat. The gentleman was drunk and in a frenzy. Roe was a powerful man and was not drimk. The farmer's hand was a rude one. " Be you goin to jine the Union ? " said Jolly, white with passion, and falling into the vernacular, as he always did when he forgot himself. The fire was beginning to flash in Richard Roe's eyes, and his hands began to twitch with a terrible nervousness. " Leave go o' I ! " he shouted, half-throttled. "You be d — d ! Be you goin to jine the Union?" " Yes, I be," said Richard Roe ; and drawing back his hand he drove it into the face of the drunken man, who went down like a falling tree. John Hodge could just discern this incident from his door, and in the stillness of the night heard every word. He saw Richard Roe, after a glance at his prostrate master, walk 111 ARGUMENTUM AD HOMINEM. 121 away, and then he saw Jolly sit up and wipe something from his face with his handkerchief, at the same time cursing his ploughman and Hodge with great vigor. He ran forward and assisted him to rise. The farmer allowed him to do it ; but, as he turned towards home, he muttered, in almost un- utterable rage : " Curse you ! I'll pay you for this." 4c i|c CHAPTER IV. ARGUMENTUM AD HOMINEM. The next morning, while most of the men were engaged in the stack-yard, Hodge, with a team and a boy, was ploughing one of the far fields. He had watched the sun from seven o'clock, and still witli patient alternation he drove his bright share through the fallow in regular lines up and down the great field. At about ten o'clock he saw the familiar gray horse of his master, and with some surprise recognized on its back his master's form. He watched his approach not without trepidation. There was something sinister in the air with which Farmer Jolly directed the gray across the furrows, looking not to right or left, and making straight for tho place where Hodge was ploughing. " Stop ! " shouted the farmer. Hodire drew the lines and took off his felt. In his hand he held the plough-whip, with its heavy handle loaded with massive rings of brass, and its brass cap at the end — a terri- ble weapon in strong hands. As he rode up Jolly snatched ^w ■•WF "P« 'V •f«"f^ Mil 1, 11 .. ]"~ »l ! S mm ma 152 LITTLE HODGE. r r on the stairs. Then he and the farmer lay Mary on the bed, and gently give her a spoonful of wine, and so one ^y one the frozen little ones are roused from torpor and made strong enough to move about. The table, with its dread weight, is transferred for a short time into the shed in the yard ; and while a messenger goes to the Hall for a waggon- ette the eleven little ones are warmed at the now cheery fire. Mrs. Nollekens, restored without the heroic remedy suggested by the Squire, and Mrs. Jolly, who has brought some clothes, wash the little hands and faces, and make the children all look as decent as may be, the Squire sitting by and looking on with a beaming face, all the livid spots gone from it and not a cloud to be seen in his clear blue eyes. And Nelly, stretching her neck towards the grateful fire, nods and winks a sagacious approbation. Here is the waggonette ; and there among the warm rugs they bury the children. Little Hodge, whose rigid state gives some anxiety, actually borne in the Squire's own arms. And so they drive away, carrying off with them the tempor- ary sunshine from that dismal home, and leaving the sad watchers by the awful dead. And who is this who has slipped round to the back, and having uncovered the face a moment and taken one glance, has turned away and is walking up and down the stony yard, wringing his great strong hands and repeating, ** God forgive me ! God forgive me ! I've made a mistake. God forgive me ? " Ah ! Farmer Jolly, thank God you see your blunder and are sorry for it ! Are there not minister- ing spirits waiting to bear away to Heaven the sighs of a w THE END CROWNS THE WORK. 153 broken and repentant heart, and may they not come back laden with Christmas blessings even for thee ? Up the long avenue towards the Hall goes the heavily laden waggonette, and see there on the steps and in through the open door what a glad crowd is waiting ! As the car riage draws up there is a great cheer, and that beautif ., golden-haired girl runs forward and takes into her arms r -^ descending Squire, and with laughing and crying eyes says — " Oh ! you {fear old father ! Give me the baby ! " And so they are all lifted out, each one taken in charge by some willing convoy and piloted into — the kitchen ? "No," cries the Squire, "into the drawing-room." And there is such a scurrying of housemaids, and consultation of nurses, and turning out of wardrobes, and general scouring and rehabilitation of Hodge's children, that the day is far gone before any one thinks of settling down to quiet or amusement. Emily, having deposited her charge in the nurse's hands, had gone to her father in the hall, and taking hold of each lappel of his coat, had looked straight into his eyes and said — " Father " " Stop ! " said he, kissing her ; " I know what you're going to say. Send Williams with the bay mare." And Williams had sped for love of his young mistress all that long ten miles, and hot with speed and galloping there jumped down at the door young Henry Ewbank — jumped down into the open arms of Emily Byrton, who, not being SE3= W^ ^^m 154 LITTLE HODGE. at Ujiji, did not care a bit for the butler and the groom, and as she put her arms round his neck said — " O Harry, thank God you've come back to me at last ! " " Hi ! you two young people," said a jolly voice from the top of the steps, " what are you doing there ? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves." All the incidents of that merry evening I cannot attempt to tell. The dinners that were eaten, the friendships that were sworn between juvenile aristocrats and little snobs, the rioting in the dining-room, the peeping and hiding and shouting in the hall, the Squire's animation and boisterous glee, the joy that beamed in Emily's face, the self-satisfied humor of that young prig Ewbank, and the sweet content- ment that played upon the gentle features of the mother, as she tliankcd God her husband and her children were them- selves again ; all this and more I might enumerate, but not describe. Mr. Leicester came over in the evening, having heard the news ; and by and by, when the whole party were weary with pleasure, the clergyman drew them together and with faltering voice, as he thanked God for His goodness to them all, besought for them His mccy. And then they all went out to the organ in the hall, and Emily in rapt ecstasy played while they sang ouJ vith all their hearts the noble strains of the Christmas Anthem — Peace on Earth : Good- will TOWARD Men. mmammmf PART V. UNIONS AND COMMUNIONS. CHAPTER I. YANKEE INTERVENTION. The Squire frankly owned the change which that Christ- mas-day had wrought in him. He had pushed repression to the utmost limit, and its fruit was an apple of Sodom. Mr. Leicester, whose mind had been greatly agitated by this fearful crisis of the contention with the laborers, went heartily with him. Mr. Linkboy was taken into counsel, and at his suggestion Sammy Stednian was sent for. To him Mr. Bvrton declared his wish to make an effort to end the social war now raging in Coddleton, and candidly asked 1 's aid. "Sir," said Stedman to him, solemnly, "would to God you had done this at first ! Had masters met men with reason and kindness instead of passion and revenge, many heart-burnings and much suffering would have been pre- vented." " It is useless, my friend, to regret the past," returned the other, quietly. " It is not too late to mend. Will /ou help us to do it ? " mum 156 LITTLE HODGE. i V Forthwith the Squire, supported by Mr. Leicester and Mr. Jolly, who had taken two of Hodge's children into his house, set to work resolutely to undo all they had been do- ing for the past seven or eight months. How hard it is to fall back and repair in society the evils of so long and fierce a struggle ! They admitted the difficulties in their way to be enormous, and the outlet not to be very clear to them, but they were earnest and they were hopeful. After considering a variety of plans which had been sug- gested from different quarters, the Squire and Sammy Sted- man agreed that the proper thing to do was to call a joint meeting of farmers and laborers to consider whether any- thing could be done to put their relations on a better foot- ing. The response to the summons was hearty, both on account of the notorious facts that had led to it and of the impatience of both parties to end the existing state of things. The Squire took the chair and in a few touching sen- tences described the cause of the change that had come over his mind, and besought them from both sides to approach the subject with toleration and good-feeling. Then Mr. Leicester spoke, and then Sammy Stedman spoke. The latter, not offensively, warned the farmers at the outset that the Union was an established thing, and could not be dis- solved : that is, permanence must be the basis of any settfe- ment " A Union," he said, " is the laborer's only safe standing ground. To some extent, also, it should be the farmer's assurance of a good footing. The Union cannot be given up ; but you can, if you will, make it a different ^m mmm YANKEE INTERVENTION. 157 thing from what it will be if it must be your antagonist in- stead of your associate." The Squire asked the farmers to concede this. " I re- gard the Union, since I have looked fairly at its rules, and have had its objects explained to me by Stedman, with altered feelings. I can see how reasonable it is that the individual laborer should desire to have his position strength- ened by association with his fellows — a feeling he holds in common with almost every trade or profession. The dan- ger, of course, is that the laborers may use the power this combination gives them to tyrannize over the capitalists. But just as education and the teaching of experience have made other associations reasonable in the use of their com- bination, so these will learn that, if they exceed the rules of right, they cannot do it with impunity. In the long run their exactions will return upon themselves with disastrous effect. We are not without weapons to meet them, if it comes to that ; but what occurs to me is this — with a real desire on both sides to live on a good understanding, nfe^ it ever come to that 1 " The problem having been stated in this way and in this spirit, they all went to work to look for a solution. Hope- less work, you may say, Mr. Political Economist, but at all events more hopeful than fighting their way to no end. The meeting was held in the great room of the Byrton Arms at Coddleton. Behind the gentlemen who sat around the Squire, at the upper end of the room, was a door. Jusit as the meeting was about to buckle to the question this door began slowly to open. Presently, at least a foot above the w ^58 LITTLE HODGE. level at which the head of an ordinary human being might be looked for, there appeared a face — such a face as the assembled three hundred had never -seen. A smile slowly- radiated over its curious features, and a clear, though nasal voice, said — " I guess I don't intrude, if I come in, eh ?" The apparition was altogether so unexpected and so rare, that the good-humored burst of laughter which greeted Jehoiachin Settle, as he developed his entire length from behind the door, was excusable. He joined in it himself. " I ain't a Little Hodge,'' he remarked aloud. " Nv), sirree ! In my country we don't have babies born the sizt of dormice ; and I admit I've grown con-siderable since I first took air." When they came to discuss the matter in hand, sucli questions as these were raised : I' 1. Is the district overstocked with labof, and if so how is this to be remedied ? 2. How should men be paid — by time, by piece-work, in mon^y, or partly with perquisites, cottages, allot- ments, etc. ? 3. How arc you to meet the difference of capacity in laborers? What is to become of the old, weakly, half-paupers, etc.? 4. Can farmers afford Iiigher wages ? 5. Is it necessary or expedient to give the laborers any share of profits ? If so on what basis ? fmni YANKEE INTERVENTION. 159 « 6. Can co-operation be successfully introduced into, ag- riculture, and how far will it act as a remedy ? 7. What means, artificial or otherwise, are to be used to diminish over-supply, if existing ? (Emigration, migration, etc.) And so on. They evidently had more in hand than they could determine at one meeting. The Squire, after a while, suggested that they were not then in a position to discuss these questions fairly. They had no sufficient data. They ought first to have particulars of the number of employers and laborers in the district ; the number for whom employment existed, either constant or casual ; numbers in receipt of out-door relief; numbers in- capable of work; expenses of poor relief; information as to modes of farming and amount of production, etc., etc. In fact, it was clear that before a new combination could essay to solve the problem at all they must first be in possession of the facts. Alas ! it had taken a long and sore journey to bring them to this obvious point ! They elected a commit- tee to inquire into these matters, and to report thereon, with recommendations. Before the meeting broke up Mr. Jehoiachin Settle begged leave to say a few words. "My friends," he began, " I'm a Yankee from New York, raised in Massachoosetts, and 3^ou may en-quire what busi- ness I have to interfere in your family squabbles. Well, the fact is, that having neither children nor quarrels of my own, I'm always interfering with other people's ; and as a brother mnmmm 1 60 LITTLE HODGE. and a Christian I can't help taking an interest in your troubles." Then stating his view of the position, he went on : "Gentlemen, I reckon this is the all-firedest breeding- ground on the face of God Almighty's earth. Thar's no hu- man diggings known to me where cattle and hosses and men and women can be raised to that pitch of perfection reached in your country. As far as 1 can o-pine, you're destined by the Almighty to be a substitoot for Abraham, whose loins were pretty capacious, I guess, and covered the earth with a multitood no man could number. You British- ers appear to me to be doing the same with reasonable smartness. I calkilate your U-nited Kingdom will be chock- full in twenty-five years' time, and when that ac-me is reached I reckon I'd rayther not be around here. You'll have to thin out your stock, or you'll bust and go into bank- ruptcy as sure as you're a nation. Well, gentlemen, my particular hobby is the migration of children. In my coun- try we've made it answer, and there ain't no reason in life why you, with all your colonies scattered around the world, shouldn't make it answer too. You've not only got a sur- plus on hand — and a precious greedy, exacting surplus it is — but you've another surplus growing up, and you're going on breeding another surplus. Well, I start with the growing- up surplus and thin it out. Sir, first I'll con-tract to take all your orphans off your hands. Then I'll rcdooce your large families. You give me a cliild or two out of a family of ten to thirteen people, and let me take them away, I guess \ ^^fKmfm^^^m. T mm YANKEE INTERVENTION". i6i I'll T-elieve that family considerable and benefit the children into the bargain. I'll take me those jooveniles and I'll carry them to one of your colonies, say Canady, and I'll find me here a couple of married folks that, for some reason or other, ain't had the usual interest on their wedding paid down by the Almighty, and they'll take and keer for one of those children jest as if they'd had the trouble of having it themselves. Now, for instance, there's that blessed little creetur who's raised all this muss. He's about the capacity of a good-sized straddle-bug. I'll take that child, if you'll give him to me a few years from now, and I'll plant him in colonial soil, and on mush and hoe-cake and potato diet he'll swell and grow into something like a human." Jehoia- chin concluded thus : — " Sir, I've done a good work in America, my institoot is flourishing, and now, for the love of God and my fellow-man, I'm willing to give some of my days to trying to do the same sort of work for Old England, if so be you'll let me." Loud were the cheers among the honest country-folk at this promise of unarmed intervention on the part of Brother Jonathan. It was moved and carried by acclamation that he should be a member of the Committee. U K w..^ l62 LITTLE HODGE CHAPTER II. A VERY DRY CHAPTER. The way that Committee went to work, the earnestness they threw into it, the quantity of information they collected, the amount of talking and writing they did, was wonderful. And the report was more wonderful still. I thought at one time of putting it into an appendix, but the publisher thinks an appendix to a Christmas story is, like a tail on a human being, clearly de trop^ and altogether monstrous and un- usual ; so I put it in a chapter I tself, in order that those who prefer facts to theories may pass it over if they please. It showed that the farming in the district was nothing like what it miglit be ; that the supply of labor was about one- third greater than the demand could fairly support ; that the surplus was to a great extent represented by the out-door relief; that the wages hitherto paid were insufficient to maintain men and families in decency ; that the result of all these things was the depreciated quality of labor ; that the farmers could afford to pay much higher wages to good laborers } that not only was the excess in supply very great, but that, considering the number of families of children " coming on," it promised to be greater ; it reported that a certain number of the laborers were clearly not capable of earning a good day's wages, and never would be ; that there was a decided absence of thrift among three-fourths of the laborers ; that some of them ought to be placed permanently on the rates; that the workhouse test should be rigidly en- i A VERY DRY CHAPTER, 163 . forced on all paupers, and out-door relief be gradually stopped, in hope that the measures about to be taken would reduce to a very small number those who weighed upon the rates. ' As to relations of employers and laborers, it aftumed that those relations ought to continue to carry with them the old- fashioned kindliness and mutuality which had been claimed for the former system, but based on better grounds; that the notion of pure dependence on the master's goodwill should be abandoned, and the relation should rest on the more practical, rational, as well as more just, principle of contract ; that perquisites, beer, taihngs, gleanings (which were a right common 10 all inhabitants, and one every year lessening in value), should form no part of the system of pay, but that wages should be estimated at their fair market value in money. ? ^^ As to laborers' cottages, the report was on the whole rather in favor of leaving these in the hands of the landlords, from whom they were to be rented ; the landlords in the district were recommended to agree on a uniform rent for their cottages, proportioned to the number of rooms, and a half acre of land was to go with them, as a rule, when the tenant desired it. On the cow question the report advised no general action, buf suggested that in the vicinity of com- mons, or where pasturage could be hired, association among the laborers in keeping a common dairy, and distributing the milk among themselves, would be more practical than an attempt to give each family the precarious behefit of a cow of its own. The report, moreover, suggested that by joint il 164 LITTLE HODGE. action among neighboring landlords it might be possible to meet the difficulties of housing the laborers by laying out small villages of houses, with allotments near them, conveni- ent to several estates : this however must be a matter of pure speculation or convenience. The report reviewed the proposals for co-operative farm- ing and industrial partnerships. It spoke highly of both, and^ as poor Farmer Truscott was going through the Court, and his farm was vacant, it was suggested that an experiment in co-operation might be made upon it. Industrial partnerships were also recommended, when a fair agreement as to the standard of the labor-wage should be first arrived at, and the work be done on the condition that the laborer should risk the profit on his labor as the employer did on his capital. The report significantly but vaguely said that the present conditions of the tenure of land were unsatisfactory. The Committee examined the subjects of the distribution and proportion of wages. It adverted to the difficulty, in dealing with a great number of laborers, of ascertaining their proportionate value. Two methods of meeting this were mooted : one the adoption of a system of contracts, with gangs of laborers under some recognized leader, leaving the men to apportion the wages among themselves ; the other the adoption of piece-work wherever practicable : the latter was strongly recommended. Lastly, as to the excessive supply of laborers, present and prospective, the Committee advised that any association to be formed should keep itself advised of the state of the dis- trict, and should form a society for migration and emigra- LITTLE PILGRIMS. 165 tion ; and they reported very favorably on Mr, Jehoiachin Settle's proposal that orphan children and others whose pa- rents were willing should, with the co-operation of an insti- tute which he proposed to establish in Ottawa, be sent out to Canada to be placed out among farmers, shopkeepers, and others who would take them. A scheme for boarding out in the same way at home was also approved. Such was the report made as the first result of an attempt to solve the difference between masters and men — a report unquestionably containing crudities, and suggestions that needed to be tested by experience ; but which had this ad- vantage, that it recognized the impossibility of finding any single specific, and rested its aims on a number of possible means of relief, and on a general combination to apply them. In this light the mere attempt thus to formulate remedies was of real importance. The hardests knots in many a social problem often are to be found less in the circum- stcances themselves than in the tone, temper, and wishes of those who profess to be engaged in their solution. CHAPTER III. LITTLE PILGRIMS. Years have passed since that grave Christmas-tide. Ten years next Christmas will it be since John Hodge cut the tangled skein of his own sorrows and his brethren's difficul- ties together. On a June morning, very early, there is un- usual excitement at the Coddleton railway-station. There F" 1 66 LITTLE HODGE. is a group of little people of /arious heights, and in different stages of joy or sorrow, who are the objects of painful ex- citement to a crowd of meo, women, and children. Mr. Leicester stands with them, and now and then speaks a cheering word to some down-hearted parent or friend. There is Mr. LInkboy in his mushroom hat — not the one, I hope, of years agone — with a bag strapped round his shoulders as if for a journey. He has grown thinner, and there is a hectic flush upon his cheek. High above them all towers the form of that quaint but ac-tive citizen, Jehoia- chin Settle. He takes out his watch, as he puts a large piece of spruce gum between his teeth. , v -m " Children and good folks," he says, " the cars are tele- grammed, and you haven't over two minutes to con-elude your hugging and crying. Then I guess we'll get away for Canaan, and swop tears for smiles. Now look spry with your hydraulics, for I guess it's your last chance." Now, amidst cheering, and weeping, and God-bless-you's, Jehoiachin "fixes" his party in "the cars," and the last he lifts in is a little fellow of diminutive proportions, who hangs about the neck of a comely young woman. " Go-go o-od -by, Mary ! " sobs the little man. " Good"by, Little Ben ! God bless ee, my dear I Doan't ee forget Meary, wull ee ? " . . . . "All in I reckon?" shouts Mr. Settle. "Now then, young uns, strike up 'We're bound for the land of Ca- naan. » n And so, amidst cheers, and wavings of hands, and shak- ings 01 handkerchiefs, while Mr. Leicester stands with his ITf LITTLE PILGRIMS. 167 e ir hat off bov/ing a dignified but hearty adieu, the train glides off, while Jehoiachin Settle and his convoy sing with all their might • "0 Canaan, bright Canaan, We're bound for the land of Canaan ; O Canaan is a happy land, - . We're bound for the land of Canaan." The Curate, as secretary, manager, and factotum of the local Emigration Society, accompanies this, the fourth com- pany that has gone from Coddleton, as far as Liverpool. There is a melancholy gladness in his face as he talks with Jehoiachin Settle about the future of these little ones. The American, looking into his eyes, knows that this will be the last company to be set rpon its journey by Mr. Linkboy. Here they all are on the Mersey, scrambling out of the little tender into one of the great Canadian steamships that is swinging in the tide, each one receiving a kiss and a bless- ing from Mr. Linkboy ; and then Jehoiachin looks under the mushroom hat, and, unable to restrain himself, folds the Curate up helplessly for a moment or two in his huge arms. Squeezing the white hand in hii bony, brown paw, he says, with glistening eyes : "Brother ! On the other side of Jordan, brother ! Good by." — The lines are cast off, the great vessel shivers for a moment with a mighty convulsion, groans i*^ her inner depths a mighty groan, and, with a sound of rushing and splashing water, begins to glide away from hci t»ny lom- i i68 LITTLE H0D(;E. panion. On the i)addlc-box below stands the Curate ; on the foredcck above, striving to catch a last glimpso of him, stand the children. They raise a shrill cheer. And see, Jehoiachin Settle has lifted Little Hodge upon his lofty shoulders, and the tiny hand is viraving a handkerchief. The smaller steamer rapidly returns, the larger gradually grows indistinct down a long vista of sunlit water, but tne Curate is dreaming a dream of a hopeful soul borne away from the terrors of its early days and the despondency of itf native life to a land of hope and premise. As he stepped from the boat, and passing over the pier took his way through the dingy resorty of trade, and anon past awful shades, where vice and cru le and wretchedneiiS cowered from the lighi of day, he noted them not. There seemed to me to be a light about him. Methought he walked as one that walketh on silver clouds. And before his eyes a hand of sonie unseen One seemed to wave a shining scroll, whereon were these wo*ds :-— Forasmuch as YE HAVE DONF IT UNTO ONE OF THE LEA.3T OF THESE LITTLE ONES, YE HAVE DONE IT UNTO Me. * CHAPTER IV. A MIRRY CHKISTMA5I. I ![ Christmas has come. Ten years to day since Hodge'f dead body did what living Hodge could never have done. The rime and hoar of Time arc settling down upon the heads, tliough not upon the hearts — thank God, they are green an j mmm ^ KilJJ HB»i H-~, .-,.-«»-■ A MERRY CHRISTMAS. 169 flJ fresh as ever 1 — of the Parson and the Squire. Christmas- day ! The great building of Coddleton Union gave signs of animation and festivity. Here were squires* carriages and waggonettes discharging their freights of brisk-looking gen- tlemen, old and young ; jovial farmers jumping out of their traps or swinging off their horses ; and a crowd of men, all neatly dressed, amongst whom the gentlemen mingled famil- iarly, with a loud and oft-repeated " Merry Christmas." 5 By and by, as a great bell rings out, they all press in at the Union door. Aye ! rub your eyes. Master ! Is this Cod- dleton Union ? They are turning from the hall into the woman's wing, where poor Mary Hodge and many another like her had, in giving birth to new lives, paid the penalty of their own. But all that used to be here m her day is changed and gone. The room where Little Hodge was born does not exist. It has merged in a great hall — the hall of the " Coddleton Agricultural Society," of which sq 'iies, farmers, and laborers are indifferently members. The poor old Poor- law Union has fallen upon bad days. Five or six years ago they were obliged to reduce its accommodation one-half; and now the unfortunate Mr. Mee rules over its mutilated remains. Many who used to live upon the Union are now living by their own honest labor, and some of them are here, waiting with tremendous appetites for grace to be said over the substantial dinner laid down in the Coddleton Agriail- tural Hall. _^ -^ Sydney Byrton, Esquire, is standing at the head of the centre table, and on his right is Sir Walter Waggington, Bart., M.P., his genial nose aglow with pleasure. But look it It I '*r 170 LITTLE HODGE. there ! They have been waiting for the chaplain ; and now coming up the hall to take their places on the le'"t of the chairman are the Vicar of Hankerley and the Coddleton Methodist minister, Mr. Roger, arm-in-arm. And if you look round the room you will see other parsons ("^heir curates, no doubt, engaged in praying away dutifully at afternoon service), and some " Primitives," and a Baptist, and a Bible- Christian or two ; and altogether Peter's sheet seems to have been emptied into the great room at Goddleton. Who would venture to describe the eating, or the talking, or the good- fellowship, toned down by the spirit of tlie day, at that won- derful banc^uet ? Not I, I warrant you. When dinner is over, and the Reverend Mr. Roger has re- turned thanks, devoutly but at length, "the Report" is called for, and Sanuiiy Stedoian is the man who gets up to read it. It is too rosy. Were he net a te-^totaller we should say he had written it amid visions of bright-hued wines and generous cheer. He reports the condition of the district " most satisfactory." Wages are good ; they are now from fourteen to twenty shillings a week, according to ability, nearly all by piece-work. The arbitrators have not been ap- pealed to once during the year to settle a dispute. Sammy has been all round the district, and is happy to say that not a single LuKilord in possession has broken the compact en- tered into six years since to erect a certain number of decent cottages with corresponding allotments ; the exceptions are in the case of encumbered and charity estates ; r '' r'^r 'Peo- ple arc everywhere improving in their care, jt •/j-^M, ti;^ :• ' as yet the general result is not all Samn :ould i av A '• 'X.. A MERRY CHRISTMAS, 171 1 ap- Umy It not It cn- ;ccnt Is are neo- 'A. He hopes for better things when the next generation is edu- cated. Nearly all the cottages in the district are now held of landlords, and only the immediate servants of each farm, who are employed by the year, are tenants from their mas- ters. Tiie building society has been very successful, and several men are owners of ground and cottages. Sammy says " the good effects upon the men is very marked." The School Board is working " most successfully," and now has no difficulty in getting the children to school. Mr. Leicester and Mr. Roger are complimented for their efforts in this de- partment. The co-operative farm at Charnley has this year been unusually fortunate. " It is competing with some of . the best farms in the neighborhood. {Hear, hear. ) They have purchased a couple of machines, and have been able *■ this year to hire one of the steam ploughs belonging to this Association." Sammy adds slyly that " there is reason to believe the mode of cultivation adopted on the farm is being copied with advantage on other farms in the district." More over it was beginning to be felt that the two hundred mem- bers of the Co-opev.,i\e larm Association formed an ad- mirable reserve of labor for the farmers of the neighborhood, who found they could get some of the best hands in the country to work overtime after they had taken theii shift of work on the farm. • The report concerning the co-operative stores in the different villages was enough to make a trades- man dance with anything but gratification, so I forbv;;ar lo repeat it. Lastly : " Your Ccminittee have as u.sual kept a keen eye upon the requirements of the district in the sup- ply of labor, and as young men and vfomen have come on, I' (I ,f 172 LITTLE HODGE. efforts are made to keep the supply proportioned to the needs of the locality. In this there has been active co-operation between your Society and the Agricultural Laborers' Union. The joint Migration and Emigration Committee have been promoting the removal of young persons to other parts of England and to the Colonies, and it has been found that by disseminating through the districts accurate and practical in- formation about the Colonies, several families have been in- duced to save money, and witli a little assistance from your Committee, to emigrate. The Children's Emigration Com- mittee, under the personal sup.-rvision of Mr. Jehoiachin Settle — {great cheering) — and of Mr. Linkboy (" whose death in the midst of his usefulness, soon after his return from seeing off the last company, has caused the deepest grief and is an irreparable loss to our Association " — a state- ment read and received with emotion), has this year sent out twenty-two orphans and others with the assistance of the Guardians of the Poor. One of those sent out was the young- est child of John Hodge. " The kindred societies through- out England arc in constant correspondence with your Com- mittee on various questions of common concern, and steps are being taken to organize a more thoroughly National Union of tlie agricultural interests." This abstract sufficient!) accounts for the loud and pro- longed cheers which grcittd Samtny as he sat ilown, after saying in his preachy way that " they must all be thankful to A kind and merciful God for the measure of prosperity vouchsafed to them through the past year, and pray Him to A MERRY CHRISTMAS 173 continue to them the spirit of goodwill and brotherly help- fulness." Then the chairman stands up, the toast of ''The Queen" having been drunk, and proposes, " Success to the Coddle- ton Agricultural Society," the only other toast permitted, out of respect for the day. Drank with uproarious honors. " This day ten years ago, gentlemen," he said, " I under- went a painful but salutary conversion. It was followed by that of some of my friends around me. It was a conversion from a policy of pride, prejudice, passion, and cold-hearted selfishness to kindliness and humanity — to a sense of what my friend Stedman has called * brotherly helpfulness.' We may or may not believe in the infallibility of the laws laid down by economical philosophers, but we must admit that even their operation may be greatly facilitated and improved by the intervention of that element — by the sense of a duty to be done not to ourselves only but to all about us, in every relation of life. Fxonomy without charity, using that word in its widest sense, is as helpless as charity without economy. To-day we celebrate the results of our change of attitude. Employers and laborers were in fierce antagon- ism, and at one time it looked as if the batde must be fought out to the bitter end. But when we were made alive to the dreadful possibilities of such a struggle, and set to work to ward them off, earnestness and goodwill, tempered by prac- tical sense, brought us to terms. We found our interests could be reconciled, and now I believe that they are one. It will please you to know, as an instance of the general benefit that has accrued from our altered relations, that th« ii i I wi '. I r\ I 174 LITTLE HODGE. Statistics of the coming year are expected to show a larger yield per acre from this district than from any part of England. Another significant fact I ought to mention, the effect of the thrift which the hope of better things has en- couraged among the men. The farm on my property which became vacant at Michaelmas by the death of Mr. Golding, has been taken of me at an enhanced rent by Richard Roe, formerly a ploughman, and late manager of the co-operative farm." Sir Walter Waggington supported the toast in a character- istic speech, in the course of which he said : " Gentlemen, I once protested against the introduction of commercial principles into die relations of agricultural labor ; but I have found that after the first trial was over these have not only increased the value of my property, but have tended more than anything else, under sensible treatment, to bring about that community of good feeling and advantage which I was always aiming at, but knew not how to attain on behalf of my poorer countrymen." Sammy Stedman then claimed the attention of the meet- ing for a few moments to a letter he had received the day before from Canada. It was written, he said, by the little boy he had mentioned, the son of poor John Hodge, the first and last martyr of the agricultural revolution. Dear Sir, — TV// Mr. Link Boy, aftey we left him in the big ship it went on day after day for a long time. I was very sick and throwed up. So did rveryhody else. IVlien A MERRY CHRISTMAS. 175 we got to. Que- Bee Mister Settle took us all ashore^ and we went to Montr eeal. Then we came here to Otta-JVa. lam living with a genleman and lady as came and got Mister Settle to let them have me. They are very good to me. I call them papa and mama. She kisses me every night and morning. I get ever so many ttice things to eat^ and good clothes to wear. I am grow in a big boy. They dident like me at firsts Uause I was so little. Now Pm gr m'in they like me better. - / love mama very much. She lias changed my name. J hope it does not matter. They call me Benjamin Hope. Hope is their name too. I want you to get this letter before Chris Mass day^ when all the genlemen have the big dinner. Please tell them I thank them so much for sending me here. Tell Mister Lester and Mister Link Boy I pray for them every night and morning. Mama likes me to^ and says I am sure by and by to see them in heaven. I hope so. But / want you to get this letter^ so as to stand up on Chris Mass day and tell the genlemen from me I am so happy, and I wish them all K Merrv Chris Mass and a Happy New YfAR ^^^ Urge rooiK! h»Dd. 'I - Yours affectionately^ Little Hodge. P.S, Mama says its the last time lam to sign that name. Benjamin Hope. II » J: '-I 1 1 And so, Reader, we who set out in Sorrow end in Hope. The blessed Christmas birth of sadness was the blessed Christinas seed, growth and fruition of joy for all mankind. 176 LITTLE HODGE The story of Christmas is ever the same story of life out of death, of light out of darkness, of love out of hate, of good out of evil, of hope from despair. So may you read it ever in your own experience ; and let the precious memories and sweet, sweet fragrance of the Christmas-time embalm your life for yourself not only, but also and always for your brother-man. i' f THE END. of od 'er nd >ur lur Any Book on this List sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price. 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