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THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST 
 
 AND OTHER 
 
 NORTHUMBRIAN EPISODES, 
 
By the Same Author. 
 
 "BORDERLAND STUDIES." 
 
 PRESS NOTICES. 
 The National Observer. 
 
 " Mr. Pease has the merits of observing well, of selecting the 
 essential for presentation, and of really knowing his subject. You get 
 the personal equation of Northumbria in the papers, in the tales a 
 view of her sons in act. Whatever the Northumbrian's value from 
 the social and political points of view; there can be no dispute that as 
 literary material he is admirable. Is Mr. Howard Pease henceforth to claim 
 him as his own ? Hitherto the Northumbrian has inspired but the local 
 author; his Barrie, his Stevenson, are still unborn." 
 
 The Globe. 
 
 " The name of Mr. Howard Pease is new to us, but his ' Borderland 
 Studies ' have a freshness and power which induce us to hope that we 
 shall meet with his name again. The Borderland in question is 
 Northumbria, and Mr. Pease appears not only to know it, but to appreciate 
 it thoroughly. The sketches are all eminently graphic, though over brief. 
 The tales occupy much more space, and are agreeably unconventional in 
 motive and treatment. The writer's mastery of the local patois is 
 apparently great. His volume is certainly one to be carefully conned." 
 
 The Scotsman. 
 
 " The book will interest both those who know and those who wish 
 to know the Northumbrian character." 
 
 Newcastle Leader. 
 
 "'Borderland Studies' is a local work of distinctive character 
 and unusual merit." 
 
 Newcastle Journal. 
 
 " Mr. Pease has the merit of having condensed in to a small compass 
 the most pungent essence of the peculiarly characteristic scenes and 
 people described, and his little book will, no doubt, find its place among the 
 treasiires of local record and tradition." 
 
 Newcastle Weekly Chronicle. 
 
 " Nothing more racy of the soil has been produced in Northumber- 
 land for many a long day. We have here nearly all the qualities of a 
 novelist of the highest class. Turn where we may in the volume, the 
 skill of the writer is conspicuous. In the description of nature and 
 the analysis of character he is equally at home." 
 
 Glasgow Evening News. 
 " * Borderland Studies' contains many powerful sketches." 
 
 Newcastle Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " Here, for the first time, is an attempt to apply the modern method 
 to our own district, still one of the most distinctive in England. 
 Mr. Howard Pease has a sensitive, artistic conscience, which leads him 
 to check his observations carefully, and to use every pains to make as 
 literal a transcript as possible. Mr. Howard Pease's book ought to find 
 many readers, not mainly, we repeat, because it is local, but mainly 
 because it is literature." 
 
he Same Author. 
 
 n 
 
 5} (el 
 
 "THE MARK O' THE DEIL." 
 
 PRESS NOTICES. 
 
 Condon Daily Chronicle. 
 
 "A Northumbrian Kipling Early readers of 'The 
 
 Strange Case of Br. Jelcyll and Mr. Hyde' recognized the fact that we 
 had one great living master of the terrible: 'The end of the Passage,' 
 testified to the existence of a second; and, if we are not very greatly 
 mistaken, ' The Mark o' the Deil,' and the two stories with tvhich we have 
 grouped it testify not less clearly to the existence of a third. 
 
 The title story is one the offenceless telling of which must have 
 been a matter of almost insuperable difficulty, the way in which the 
 difficulty is surmounted provides unimpeachable testimony to the fineness 
 
 and delicacy of Mr. Pease's art Mr. Pease, like Mr. 
 
 Kipling, turns, not habitually indeed, but still with characteristic 
 frequency, to those aspects of life in which he finds either naked terror of 
 tragedy, or that grim grotesque comedy which leaves behind it a semi- 
 tragic impression Mr. Pease's comedy is almost inevitably less 
 
 impressive than his tragedy, but in its own way it is not one whit less 
 excellent. 
 
 The story of the reconciliation— after a stand up fight— of the 
 squire and the rabbit-shooter, is as human as it is humorous, and ' An Old 
 Argy,' is a delicious sketch. His treatment has the robust directness of the 
 creator of Learoyd, Ortheris, and Mulvaney, rather than the gentle winding 
 into the heart of a humorous conception which is the more characteristic 
 manner of the well-beloved scribes of Kirriemuir and Galloway." 
 
 The Athenaeum. 
 
 "Seldom have we read local stories which have impressed us 
 with a greater sense of their absolute truth of local colour and speech. 
 And yet there is not too much dialect .... There is no denying 
 that Mr. Pease has a tendency to choose gruesome subjects, but he 
 has also the gift of being able to set his horrors before the reader with 
 much eerieness and power. The story which gives its name to the book 
 is full of horrors. Horrors as well depicted as those in ' The Judgment ' 
 are things for which gratitude is due, but Mr. Pease should not indulge in 
 this vein to the exclusion of humorous stories like • Hoo 'Twes' (How it 
 was), which is excellent." 
 
 The Academy. 
 
 " Here we have literature, and of a valuable kind. This is a book 
 to put on one's shelves." 
 
 
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 "He has very cleverly indicated the dialect, using just enough of 
 it to give local colour, and not enough to puzzle us. 
 
 Once the • foreigner ' has taken up this book he will not readily 
 put it down, for Mr. Pease is an excellent story-teller. He never wears his 
 material thin by forcing it to cover too much space— he feels for them and 
 with them, and he has a good deal of humour." 
 
 The National Observer. 
 
 " With the addition of the dialect these sketches are raised to the 
 dignity of studies for which every Northumbrian will be ready to thank 
 their author, so perfect is his comprehension of the subjects, so complete 
 his mastery of the rich brogue, so delicate his handling of the simple 
 themes." 
 
 Newcastle Daily Leader. 
 
 (London Correspondent). — "You will be interested to hear that at 
 least one of the critics, and a very competent one, has discovered in 
 Mr. Howard Pease— the appearance of whose new volume of Northumbrian 
 stories was noticed in this letter some time back— a new and most 
 praiseworthy addition to the Stevenson group of writers. Mr. Pease's 
 book is welcomed as a revelation of unexpected power. He is 
 described as one of the three men who know how to produce the shudder, 
 being in that respect classed with Mr. Stevenson himself." 
 
 Birmingham Daily Post. 
 
 "Mr. Howard Pease, in his 'Borderland Studies,' attracted some 
 attention by his masterly presentation of North-country life and 
 character, but his new volume, 'The Mark o' the Deil, and other North- 
 umbrian Tales,' is certain to make for him a far wider circle of admirers." 
 
 Newcastle Daily Journal. 
 
 " This volume ought to make its author's reputation." 
 
 The Standard. 
 
 " To the Northerner born these • Heapstead ' or Pit-mouth Studies 
 come home with all the fascination of reality, and even over the 
 Southerner they should exercise the oharm that belongs to every truthful 
 presentment of unsophisticated human nature." 
 
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 The Saturday Review. 
 
 " Mr. Howard Pease's collection of Northumbrian stories, all of them 
 original and well told. 
 
 Mr. Pease has managed his dialect with much skill, and it can be 
 
 understood by anyone Nothing in the way of ancient lore or 
 
 traditions escape him." 
 
 Notes and Queries. 
 
 "Every student of dialect should have it on his shelves." 
 
 The Queen. 
 
 "I have not often read a more striking book, from the point of 
 view of local colour and dialect, than 'The Mark o' The Deil,' which is 
 the title of a single volume of Northumbrian Stories by Howard Pease. 
 
 Clearly there is material in this writer which might let him do 
 for that district what Mr. Barrie has done for the Kirriemuir district, 
 and what Mr. Quiller Couch and other writers have done for Cornwall." 
 
 The Manchester Guardian. 
 
 "There is evidence of really good workmanship throughout this 
 book. The title story is powerful and gruesome enough to make it some- 
 thing more than a mere imitation of Rudyard Kipling. This is an 
 honest and successful attempt to do for Northumberland what Mr. 
 Crockett has done for Galloway." 
 
 Newcastle Daily Chronicle. 
 
 "As illustrations of character these stories are unmatched. 
 
 Mr. Pease has depicted the representative miners with a sagacity 
 that rises into genius, and that one so comparatively young should have 
 achieved so much is something to be proud of. 
 
 We expect, however, that at no distant day the promise of his 
 youth will be realised by the production of a work bringing all his powers 
 into the fullest play." 
 
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 Liverpool Daily Post. 
 
 '•A glance at the glossary may prove helpful, but once the reader 
 gets introduced to ' Heckler,' ' Geordie,' 'Wor Tom,' the interest becomes 
 so keen that the divergence into pure English, whether in description or 
 explanation, seems almost to take away from the crispness and brightness 
 of story or picture." 
 
 Alnwick and County Gazette. 
 
 "Mr. Pease— Northumbria's Novelist — has, in his first two books, 
 written only of Northumbrian people and Northumbrian scenes. So far 
 he has made these peculiarities his own, and all who love our fair Border- 
 land will look eagerly for the announcement of further contributions from 
 his pen." 
 
 The Guardian. 
 
 " A very good short volume of Northumbrian stories has followed the 
 clever 'Borderland Studies' of the same author. 
 
 In this new book the local dialect has been adapted, and we think 
 
 wisely, to the comprehension of a Southern reader These clever 
 
 and imaginative studies." 
 
THE 
 
 WHITE-FACED PRIEST 
 
 AND OTHER 
 
 NORTHUMBRIAN EPISODES. 
 
 BY 
 
 HOWARD PEASE 
 
 AUTHOR 
 
 OF 
 " BORDERLAND STUDIES." 
 
 " THE MARK o' THE DEIL." 
 
 London : 
 GAY & BIRD. 
 
 Newcastle-on-Tvnk : 
 MAWSON, SWAN, & MORGAN 
 
 1896. 
 
Uo ms ffatber, 
 
 A IiOVEB AND A COLLECTOB OF BOOKS, 
 
 THIS SMALL ADDITION TO 
 
 HIS LIBBABT IS 
 
 INSCBIBED 
 
 BY 
 
 Zbc Hutbor. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 In a former volume the writer was accused of an 
 "excess of gloom," and in a later work of a 
 tendency towards "the terrible," but in the present 
 impression no such shadows will, he believes, be 
 discoverable, and he can only hope that at a time 
 when, as some think, the rechauffe Elder and the 
 savoury neuropathic appear " usque ad nauseam ' 
 on fiction's daily menu, the following episodes 
 dealing with the sturdy, independent, Anglo- 
 Saxon character of the Northumbrian people 
 may be found to please the palate. 
 
 If anyone is inclined to be sceptical on the 
 subject of "Black Geordie's " feats, either as 
 hewer or trencherman, as related in the text, it 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 may be stated that he represents a character 
 notorious some forty years ago throughout North- 
 umberland for his physical prowess. 
 
 It is said by tradition that he could hew a 
 " score* of tubs" a day, in anything approaching 
 a decent, or "canny," as he would have preferred 
 to express it, "cavil." 
 
 Further, that he usually partook of two "pot- 
 pies" for breakfast, and on one occasion demol- 
 ished two legs of mutton for his dinner. 
 
 In the "Flight of the Lodger' 1 again, 
 "Temple Tommy" assumes the guise, and defin- 
 itely adopts the phraseology of the late Mr. 
 Gleghorn of Seaton Delaval — a man of the most 
 singular piety, of the most kindly disposition, and 
 consistently devoted, from his youth upward, to 
 the cause of Christianity. 
 
 As the writer only met Mr. Gleghorn once, it 
 may well be that he has done but scant justice to 
 the closing scenes of a singularly beautiful life ; at 
 the same time he believes that his discourse as he 
 
 *About 8 tons. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 lay dying was almost identical with that given in 
 the sketch. 
 
 For this, as for sundry other information, the 
 writer is very greatly indebted to Mr. R. A. S. 
 Redmayne, Viewer of Seaton Delaval Colliery, 
 whose knowledge of the pitmen resembles Sam 
 Weller's acquaintance with London in being at 
 once " extensive and peculiar." 
 
 If any reader feels surprise at the prominent 
 part assigned to theology in the sketches which 
 deal with pit life and character, he must bear in 
 mind that the writer has deliberately chosen out 
 this particular aspect for treatment, as formerly, 
 in another book he selected the sporting side for 
 presentation. 
 
 Either phase is distinguished by a like energy 
 and directness, an energy and directness typical 
 of the Northumbrian nature, though naturally 
 enough the two strains are not usually met with 
 in the same individual. 
 
 And now one word as to the dialect. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 The remarks of an able critic in regard to a 
 former work are here quoted, for they are at once 
 true as regards any literary production that deals 
 with a particular form of speech, and may also 
 serve to excuse the writer in the eyes of the more 
 patriotic Northumbrians, who may resent their 
 ancient Doric being watered down to suit the 
 taste of a " furrinor," who may even go so far as 
 to stigmatize it as "a cruel jargon " upon occasion. 
 The critic then pointed out, " that to reproduce 
 phonetically a wholly incomprehensible dialect is 
 but to worry and puzzle your readers. It may be 
 said that this is impossible, for who could trans- 
 literate the burr ? or who has ever been able to 
 write the vowel sound "o" in the Northumbrian 
 equivalent for " home " or " stone " ? " Hyem ' 
 and " styen " suggests the real sounds to none but 
 an expert. All the more reason, then, for keeping 
 out of the way of stone walls, and leaving one's 
 head unbattered ! If the delicious original be 
 beyond capture, why essay to zany it ?" 
 
 And now, having at last set up his little 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 booth in the great mart of literature, and duly 
 cried his wares, the author steps aside with the 
 final hope that amongst his samples of Northum- 
 brian lore some may be found to tickle the sinner, 
 and some to please the saint. 
 
 Howard Pease. 
 
 Arcot Hall, 
 
 Dudley, R.S.O., 
 
 Northumberland. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 Aa, i 
 
 Aa's, i am 
 Aad, old 
 
 Aad-fashioned, old-fashioned, viz: astute. 
 
 Brass, money 
 
 To best, to get the better of 
 
 BuZZOf the steam whistle of the Colliery. If it sounds at 
 
 7.45 p.m. it is an intimation that the pit will be ' idle ' on 
 
 the morrow 
 Cavil — the quarterly ballot amongst hewers. As coal is so much 
 
 more easily " won " in some seams than in others this method 
 
 ensures a certain fairness in the apportionment of places. 
 Clag, to stick 
 Clarty, dirty 
 Checkweighman, an official appointed by the men to ' check ' 
 
 the ' weigh man ' of the owners 
 CliWOr, clever 
 
 Dee, do 
 
 Deputy, overseer appointed by the owners to superintend the 
 
 working of a mine. 
 Dwam, swoon 
 Elwis, always 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 Fley, to frighten 
 
 Gliff, fright 
 
 Gobby, boastful. Pigg, Mr. Jorrocks' huntsman, it may be re- 
 membered, warned his master of the evil effects attending 
 'setting up one's gob.' 
 
 Hadawa, go away 
 Hirple, to limp 
 
 Hoggers, pit knickerbockers 
 
 Hunkers, haunches; * squattin' on his hunkers,' this sitting in 
 
 a balanced position on the heels is the immemorial posture 
 
 of a pitman in his leisure hours 
 Iwor, ever 
 
 Mewies, maybe, perhaps 
 Ne, no 
 Neet, night 
 Niwor, never 
 Notis, notice; to "get notice" is to receive notice of dismissal. 
 
 'Pay-Friday' and 'Pay-Saturday/ pitmen are paid fortnightly 
 
 on the Friday, and the Pay-Saturday is always a holiday; 
 
 non Pay-Saturdays are known as ' Baff-Saturdays ' 
 Pigeon-ducket, pigeon-cote 
 Priest a Roman Catholic or Church of England clergyman. This 
 
 is probably a survival from pre-Reformation times, for the 
 
 Presbyterian and Methodist are not 'priests' but ministers. 
 Reet, right 
 Relap, relapse 
 
 Sapling, greyhound puppy under 12 months of age 
 Shut fast, Or Shoot fast, 'blowing down the coals without 
 
 nicking.' Those using this method are liable to dismissal. 
 Staps, the strips of a barrel 
 Stagnate, surprise 
 
 Ti, tiv, tae, to. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 Thor's, there is 
 
 Aas warned, warn'd, I warrant you 
 
 Weeda, widower 
 Wes, was 
 Wey, why 
 
 Wheor, where 
 Wor, our 
 Yor, your 
 
 AI 
 
ERRATUM. 
 
 Page 14 for gizzing, read fizzing. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The White-Faced Priest 
 
 Chapter I. Introductory 
 
 Chapter II. Episode the First - 
 
 Chapter II. — (Continued.) Tvva Cracks. 
 
 Chapter III. In which the Heckler appears 
 likely to lose his bet. 
 
 Chapter IV. Episode the Second 
 
 Chapter V. Last Scene of all - 
 
 "Temple Tommy's" Tale 
 
 A Champion Conversion 
 
 The Flight of the Lodger 
 
 The Last Mayor of Redburnmouth 
 
 Farmers Damon and Pythias 
 
 The Last of the Keelmen 
 
 A Son of the Woodlands 
 
 FAGE. 
 
 3 
 
 3i 
 66 
 
 88 
 
 97 
 
 137 
 
 151 
 
 179 
 I97 
 
 209 
 
 223 
 
 251 
 
 277 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 B 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 " Good evening," I said in reply to the curt wag 
 of the head from my acquaintance " the Heckler," 
 upon whom I had suddenly chanced in my stroll 
 after the day's work was over. 
 
 He was sitting, as was his fashion of an 
 evening, upon the top-most rail of the gate, by the 
 road-side, ready to hold forth in his oracular 
 manner upon any subject that may be brought 
 under his notice. Usually he was surrounded by 
 a host of admirers, who consulted him, as enquirers 
 of old the Delphic oracle, and like those ancients. 
 
4 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 usually departed, I believe, if not greatly enlight- 
 ened, exceedingly gratified that such an epitome of 
 hidden wisdom should exist in their midst. I 
 understood indeed that they had recently mani- 
 fested their appreciation by electing him to the 
 post of check-weighman at the Colliery. 
 
 To-night, however, he was alone, save only for 
 the companionship of his grey-hound, the " aad 
 bitch," Bonnie Bella, who sat below him looking 
 up at him with keen face and soft brown eyes, 
 endeavouring, by an occasional low whine, to draw 
 him from his rail and induce him to take her for 
 some further exercise. 
 
 As he was alone, I ventured to stay awhile for 
 a "crack," for I found his pawky wit extremely 
 diverting ; so long, that is, as there was no fear of 
 it's being exercised upon myself in the presence of 
 bystanders, who, standing round with elbows poised 
 to nudge, and smiles ready to break open at a 
 word, insisted on regarding every sentence he 
 uttered as an unanswerable repartee. 
 
 The bells were sounding from the Church 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 5 
 
 which stood on the eminence beyond the Colliery, 
 so, by way of opening a conversation I enquired, 
 " And how does the new Rector get on ? Is he a 
 good preacher?" 
 
 " He canna preach a bit ; he's nowt ov an 
 orator," replied the Heckler somewhat contempt- 
 uously. It was a characteristic of his to look down 
 upon everyone with whom he was not personally 
 acquainted or identified in some way or another, 
 and indeed so great was his admiration for the 
 " aad bitch," "the wife," and the rest of his 
 personal belongings, that he had little left for the 
 outside world and " furrinors " generally. 
 
 " But he has a bit of gumption in him for aal 
 that," he continued reflectively; "he wes passing 
 us i' the road t'other night, an' he gie'd us good 
 'e'en, then, catchin' sight o' the aad bitch, he says, 
 " That's a good-looking dog, that o' yors," says he. 
 Bein' a priest, he mevvies didna ken the difference 
 twixt a dog an' a bitch, but I thinks he means well, 
 an' gie him a bit time, I'll back him ti fill his 
 Chorch before he's done wiv it." 
 
6 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 " The Wesleyan minister's a new man also, is 
 he not ?" I enquired further. 
 
 " Ay, he's a furrinor too," replied the Heckler, 
 " an' a tarr'ble clivvor chep, I hear tell, but I 
 divvn't like the looks ov him ; he's far ower gobby 
 for the job ; ti listen tiv him taalkin' one might 
 think he wes a member o' Parlyament, a Justice o' 
 the Peace, an' — an' — the Judge o' the Waterloo 
 Cup aal rolled into one. My marrer, though, he 
 favours the Methody, for he says he likes a chep 
 wiv a bit kyte (stomach) on tiv him ; a good eater 
 makes a good worker, says he, but I think he's 
 wrang ; I likes the wiry ones best myseF, they 
 divvn't make a great show at their vittals, but 
 they'll gan till they drop, like the aad bitch. Sae 
 I've backed the priest ti fill his Chorch sooner 
 than the Methody fills his chapel, an' seein' that 
 the Methody's getten aboot six weeks start my 
 marrer gie'd us a shade ov odds — five pun ten tiv 
 a fiver." 
 
 " I suppose," said I, smiling at the quaint- 
 ness of the Heckler's point of view, " that they 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 7 
 
 will have hard work at first, being somewhat 
 handicapped probably by the performances of 
 their predecessors who, between them, if all tales 
 be true, sadly neglected their flocks." 
 
 " Ay, yor right there, the other two between 
 them wes as good as a circus a'most, as ye might 
 say, for the priest as soon as ivvor he hed his bit 
 fortin' left him, hired a curate who wes oot ov a 
 sitivation ti do the work for him, whilst he went 
 aff playin' hissel aal ower the country-side, cock- 
 fightin' an' racin' an aal, till one day his curate 
 fell sick aal ov a sudden, an' he'd ti tak a torn hissel, 
 onexpected like, ov a Sunday mornin'. He'd been 
 hevin' a glass or two, ye ken, an' the Chorch- 
 wardens had a tarr'ble job ti get him ti the vestry, 
 whilst aal the folk wes waitin' i' the Chorch, 
 lookin' at each ither, some o' the women half ways 
 twixt cryin' an' laughin' an' the lads standin' a 
 tiptoe, nudgin' each ither an' startin' talkin', 
 whilst the chep who played the organ had come ti 
 an end ov his repertory, an' wes lookin' aboot him 
 like one o' them organ-grinders I-talyan fellers 
 when he's finished turnin' the handle. 
 
8 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 Well, in comes the priest at the finish, an' 
 hirples alang through the sarvice somehoo or 
 anither till they wes aal doon on their knees wiv 
 him prayin' — mevvies whereabouts he wes 
 caallin' hissel a ' misorabbil sinnor'," continued 
 the Heckler, his face assuming an air of preter- 
 natural gravity rendered more emphatic perhaps 
 by the slight contraction of the left eye-lid which 
 accompanied it, " an' there he stayed stock still, 
 whether it wes that it came ower him sudden that 
 he wes a fair disgrace tiv his profession, or whether 
 he wes ower mussy i' the heid ti gan on, I divvn't 
 knaa, but anyways there he stayed, an' the Chorch- 
 wardens hed jest ti set the people awa' as best 
 they could, nivvor even handin' roond the dishes 
 for a collection nor nowt." 
 
 " Well, that wes the end ov him, he got the 
 bag efter that, an' high time too, I'm thinkin'," 
 concluded the Heckler. 
 
 " You're a Churchman, then, I suppose," I 
 said, so judging from the extent of his knowledge 
 of the late Rector's misdeeds. 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 9 
 
 "No, Fs no Chorchman," he replied, "but 
 mony's the time I've assisted the Chorch, for I's 
 often given the aad priest a help back frae the 
 public ov a moonless night, oxterin' him alang 
 past th' pond, an' pitheap an' aal." 
 
 " But had he not a wife to look after him ?" I 
 asked, for I suspected the Heckler of exaggerating, 
 and indeed 'twas well known that a good story 
 lost nothing at his hands. 
 
 " No," he replied, " he was a weeda when I 
 kenned him." 
 
 " Well, and what about the Methodist ? You 
 said there was a pair of them," I continued 
 suggestively. 
 
 " Ay, ay, he wes a queer un, but I doot he wes a 
 bit dotty i' th' heid the last year or two ov his time, 
 for once when one o' the Circuit stewards went to 
 call on him he flung the ink-bottle at him, cryin' 
 oot as it wes the deevil, an' that he would 
 exorcise him. He'd been ta'en wiv a swellin' i' 
 the legs, same as cart-horses gets sometimes, I 
 
10 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 b'lieve; they call it limpin-gets-us* or somethin' o' 
 that species, ye ken, a maist displeasin' sickness 
 I shud fancy, an' I divvn't wunner if he wesn't 
 quite right i' the heid. He just sat hissel doon iv 
 his armchair, an' swelled up, like the Missus' trial 
 doughs i' the oven, gettin' bigger an' bigger, 
 doin' nowt but eatin' an' drinkin' an' divertin' 
 hissel wiv harmony. He wes a fine singer, I 
 believe, an' a tarr'ble heavy player on the har- 
 monium, though I nivvor mind hearin' him mysel. 
 At the first the doctor he taps him, and efter that 
 he gans aal ti staps like a beer cask when ye 
 take the hoops aff it." 
 
 "Dear me," said I, " then I'm afraid there 
 will be a terrible amount of work for the new men 
 to start on." 
 
 " Ay," replied my informant, "yor right there, 
 no doot at aal aboot that. There's a vast o' 
 sinnors here aboot, aal sorts, big an' little uns, 
 like harrins, an' same as them, 'ull take a vast o' 
 
 curin'." 
 
 *Lymphingitis. 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 11 
 
 u But that wes the buzzor," he said abruptly 
 as a steam whistle sounded, "and I mun be gannin' 
 home. So long," he added as he curtly nodded 
 farewell. 
 
 " So long," I replied, as I turned to continue 
 my solitary peregrination. 
 
 As I walked on by myself I fell to wondering 
 how the new " Priest " would get on amongst his 
 rough yet kind-hearted Northern parishioners : if 
 he were to make a good impression at the start all 
 might go well with him, and the good he might 
 accomplish would be incalculable. 
 
 But if he made a false step at the beginning 
 he might never be able to recover ground, for I 
 knew enough of the Northumbrian to be aware 
 that he is both "hasty and hot," quick to take 
 offence and tenacious of his impressions, though 
 so warm-hearted withal that when once he has 
 become your friend you may reckon on his friend- 
 ship for a lifetime. 
 
 The new rector was a young man apparently, 
 and it would be sad, I reflected, if he should waste 
 
12 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 the best years of his life away, as 'twas said others 
 had elsewhere done, by knocking vainly at a 
 chained front entrance, when all the time the back 
 door stood open, offering a firelight welcome. 
 After a fruitless essay then he would probably 
 give all effort up, become a soured, disappointed 
 man, worse than useless in his profession where 
 much would be expected of him, and finally, like 
 the " swollen Methody," be driven to " divert 
 himself with harmony," if he did not prefer to 
 follow the example of his immediate predecessor 
 at the rectory. The memory of the Heckler's bet 
 came into my mind, and I smiled again at the 
 quaint predominance of that sporting instinct of 
 his, though I took leave to doubt whether theology 
 sufficiently interested pitmen as a whole to induce 
 them to take any active side with either " Priest ' 
 or " Methody." 
 
 Still, it was a good sign, I thought, that the 
 Heckler had " taken him up," so to speak, for he 
 was the men's representative in a double sense, 
 and his good word was a passport to a " furrinor." 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 13 
 
 For myself, I looked forward to making the new 
 rector's acquaintance, for there were no young 
 men of my own age and position in the village 
 with whom I could enter into definite companion- 
 ship, and the long evenings in the winter were 
 very wearisome. Possibly the apprenticeship to 
 any profession is dull work, but that to mining 
 engineering is perhaps the dullest of all when, as 
 in my case, one has to reside in a pit village, — 
 grimy, unsanitary, uncared for, destitute of all 
 adornment whether of art or nature. 
 
 I had not been in the village myself above 
 six weeks, and was only now beginning to get to 
 know the men. They appeared to me to delight 
 in showing their worst side to a stranger, — like 
 schoolboys standing off, as it were, and carelessly 
 watching the rougher of their number make trial 
 of the new comer. If he gave himself airs, or 
 permitted himself to swagger before them as some 
 superior being from another sphere, their backs 
 bristled instantly, and they became as surly as a 
 backyard watch-dog. No amount of petting or 
 
14 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 coaxing, no crying of "good fellow, then" would 
 propitiate the suspiciousness thus unfortunately 
 aroused, and I knew of cases where motives had 
 been misunderstood, and good intentions had 
 yielded evil fruit through some original inappro- 
 priateness of speech or manner. At the same 
 time though, they were the warmest hearted 
 people alive. Once convinced of the genuineness 
 of your interest in them, and their reciprocity was 
 extraordinary. Sow a kindness here and there, 
 and your harvest was a hundredfold. Once you 
 had been inside a pitman's home, had shaken "the 
 missus" by the hand, and partaken of her tea and 
 "singing ninny"* you were a friend for life. Even 
 in the case of the "viewer," or the " maister" as 
 they called him, who had but recently been 
 appointed manager, and who was somewhat 
 unpopular because he had introduced some new 
 rules into the pit (previously greatly mismanaged 
 through a former official's carelessness), they were 
 careful to add, after soundly abusing him, — that 
 
 *Girdle-cakes, so styled from their gizzing or singing on the girdle. 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 15 
 
 they believed he was a " clivvor man," and cer- 
 tainly a " brave worker." There were also, of 
 course, a certain residue of rough men who cared 
 for nobody ; whose one ambition, indeed, seemed 
 to be to make this evident, but they carried no 
 weight with the respectable majority, and were 
 always coming and going, either being sacked or 
 tiring of set labour. 
 
 They were, taken as a whole, an extremely 
 earnest set of men. In whatever they took up 
 they showed a positive Anglo-Saxon energy. 
 Most had some sporting " hobby " or " pastime : " 
 this one's heart was set upon homing pigeons ; 
 that other's upon dogs ; a third spent all his spare 
 time and most of his " brass" in backing himself 
 to beat " anyone in the world " at quoits; a fourth 
 would shoot sparrows in the same cosmopolitan 
 spirit, and each and all were self-styled champions 
 notwithstanding their occasional defeats, for which 
 there were always a thousand satisfactory explana- 
 tions. Others of a quieter temper were devoted 
 to gardening, and grew leeks (the village had been 
 
16 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 famous time out of mind for its particular variety) 
 that resembled life preservers for size and weight ; 
 and, in addition to other vegetables of a dropsical 
 appearance, had a special love for pinks and 
 pansies. 
 
 A few here and there, in whom the old Puritan 
 spirit was alight, gave their spare time " to the 
 Lord," and sought after sinners with a like devo- 
 tion to that displayed by their companions in their 
 sports. One man even had collected so much 
 money that he had been able to build himself 
 a "temple," (as the wooden building he had 
 erected was usually termed), wherein he wel- 
 comed all, — believers and unbelievers alike. 
 He kept a diary, 'twas said, wherein he recorded 
 the names of all those he had brought into the 
 " narrer path," and on a Sunday night would 
 recount his struggles of the week with the " aad 
 enemy," who never tired of throwing impediments 
 in the way of those who were being " brought ' 
 with difficulty " to the Lord." 
 
 All his holidays and idle days, when the pit 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 17 
 
 was not working, " Temple Tommy " would go 
 his rounds, never entering a train, nor so much as 
 taking " a cast " in a trap from a friendly driver, 
 lest one of his sudden " calls" might be interfered 
 with, which sent him hither and thither, like an 
 apostle of old, at a moment's notice. 
 
 He, too, was a " champion," as his friends 
 asserted, pointing to the tale of his conversions, 
 but others said that a large number of those he 
 had "gether'd inti the reet way" had lapsed into 
 the old paths again as soon as ever the first effect 
 of his untutored " hot gospelling" had passed 
 away. 
 
 It was a strange, uncouth district for a young 
 man to come to as a complete stranger, and I 
 confess I thought the Heckler would probably 
 lose his bet, for the new rector had only recently 
 left Oxford, and was presumably a High Church- 
 man ; one whose doctrine would soar above the 
 heads of these rough but kindly people, who loved 
 a moving oratory and the hot eloquence of the 
 
 human heart. " There," I thought to myself, 
 
 c 
 
18 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 " the dreaming spires of Oxford town," here, the 
 blackened stacks of pit buildings, a disfigured land- 
 scape pockmarked with pitfalls ; tall chimneys 
 vomiting smoke like grimy dragons, and every- 
 where the naked strivings after wealth. 
 
 No mediaeval mouldings here, nor corbels 
 carved with drooping heads of monk or nun ; no 
 mystic atmosphere, lit with the subdued glories of 
 reverential art and fragrant with the memories of 
 the devoted dead. About the crumbling carvings 
 of that old-world town a soft breeze seemed to 
 breathe, bearing, to adapt the ancient Platonic 
 metaphor, from the abode of intellect a fostering 
 culture. 
 
 Here, on the contrary, in Selaval pit village 
 antiquity was scouted ; all things were new, and 
 most were jerry-built. The atmosphere was laden 
 with the sounds of ceaseless activity, and intellect 
 concerned herself alone with the requirements of 
 commerce. 
 
 The snorting of the boilers, the groanings of 
 filled waggons, the shrill warnings of impatient 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 19 
 
 engines at the railway crossings, all testified to 
 the hot rivalry for wealth. The climate, too, was 
 cheerless, for of a summer afternoon an easterly 
 "haar" would frequently creep up from the sea, 
 muffling the bright evening in a plaid of mist. 
 
 I was thus meditating as I walked along, 
 when I perceived coming up the road at a quick 
 pace a black-coated individual, wearing a soft felt 
 hat. I observed him somewhat narrowly as we 
 passed, for I had a shrewd suspicion that he was 
 none other than the " Methody," and, indeed, his 
 appearance tallied with the description briefly 
 furnished by the Heckler in our previous conver- 
 sation. 
 
 There was a look of determination in his face, 
 backed by a square jaw, which pointed towards 
 success; a fine nose, eyes rather closely set, an 
 incipient protuberance under the fall of the waist- 
 coat (the "bit kite" alluded to by the Heckler's 
 marrow), and a somewhat heavy tread of the 
 heels, — all were marks, I thought, of the man of 
 enterprise and good business habits. He was 
 
20 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 clean-shaven, moreover, save for a slight mous- 
 tache, apart from which and a somewhat aggressive 
 manner (as of one whose social status was not yet 
 perhaps satisfactorily settled), there was nothing 
 to distinguish him from a budding curate, fresh 
 from the 'Varsity. 
 
 "Well," thought I, as I passed on, having 
 offered a brief ' good evening,' " I admire the 
 Heckler's judgment usually, but in this case I 
 think he is at fault, for here is a pushing man 
 evidently, presumably not Oxford or Cambridge 
 bred, unhampered by any mediaeval notions, neither 
 a mystic nor an ascetic, but simply a good man 
 of business." 
 
 Having seen the " Methody " (for I found on 
 enquiry that my conjecture was well founded, and 
 that it was none other than the Rev. Mr. Pearson 
 whom I had encountered), I felt a keen desire to 
 meet the " Priest," and compare him with the 
 other. After all, I reflected, as I walked up to 
 the Rectory, the next afternoon, I might very 
 likely be mistaken in my suppositions, and the 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 21 
 
 Rev. Mr. Pulleyne, M.A., Oxon., might very well 
 turn out to be a muscular Christian, one who 
 would delight his flock with exhibitions of strength 
 or skill in the gymnasium recently attached to the 
 Mechanics' Institute. There was no opportunity, 
 however, of my correcting or re-enforcing my 
 original forecast that afternoon, for the Rector 
 was out, and was not expected back till late. 
 
 As matters fell out, nearly a fortnight elapsed 
 before I saw him, for I was suddenly stricken with 
 the influenza and rigorously confined to the house. 
 
 Sitting up one afternoon, however, by the 
 window, I saw a figure passing by on the other 
 side of the road who was unmistakably a High 
 Church clergyman. 
 
 "That's the man," I thought to myself, as I 
 marked his low, rounded hat with the broad 
 straight brim, and caught a gleam as of a silver 
 cross depending from his chain. 
 
 He was somewhat under the medium height, 
 thin, but not emaciated, and walked trippingly as 
 one well pleased with himself and his surroundings. 
 
22 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 He turned, as I was watching him, to speak 
 to an old woman, and I caught a glimpse of 
 his full face ; sensitive, mobile, full of high 
 purposes undoubtedly, I thought to myself, but 
 no great look of determination or convincing- 
 ness behind that glow ; rather a slightly self- 
 conscious elation, something of that simper not 
 uncommon in young men making their debut in 
 their profession with a wonderful degree of self- 
 importance. ' One rather likes it in a budding 
 " sub " or politician,' thought I, 'but somehow not 
 in a shaveling priest, for after all one does want 
 somebody to fight and make laws for one occasion- 
 ally, but the actual ordering of one's life must be 
 carried out by one's self in the best way one can. 
 
 Every line of his body, every emotion on his 
 face, thought I somewhat illnaturedly, for a fort- 
 night indoors had given me the bile, cries aloud, 
 "Yes, I know I am good; far better than Tom, 
 and Dick, and Harry, yet I will not be hasty in 
 judgment, but," and here comes a smile on a 
 wave of the hand, " will make allowances."' 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 23 
 
 He passed out of sight almost at once, then in_ 
 another moment my door bell rang, and I felt 
 certain it was himself come to call upon me. 
 
 The heavy step of the domestic stirred the 
 stairs without ; simultaneously with her rap she 
 entered, and presented me with the Rector's card 
 as she said, " Here's the Priest's ticket ; an' he'll 
 come up an' hev a crack wiv ye, if yor willin'. I 
 tell't him ye wor a vast deal bettor, but lookin' 
 tarr'ble shabby still ; an' mevvies a bit cumpany 
 wud do ye ne harm." 
 
 " Show him up," I said, smiling, for Mary's 
 directness always diverted me, and was in itself a 
 tonic of some power, " for I should like to have a 
 talk with him." She disappeared forthwith, then 
 returned shortly with the visitor, and having 
 showed him in and dusted a chair for him, re- 
 marked, " I wes just bringin' up the maister's tea, 
 mevvies ye'll hev a cup as weel ?" 
 
 " Thanks," said my visitor, turning halfway 
 round towards me in a somewhat embarrassed 
 manner, "if I may, I should like to have a cup, 
 
24 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 but perhaps I shall be keeping you up too long, for 
 I know how strict doctors are in cases of influenza." 
 
 " Na, na," replied Mary, before I could get in 
 a word, "let him sit up a wee; he'll be gettin' 
 bedfast like an aad wife else." 
 
 " Mary, or ' Mar-wie,' as she is more usually 
 styled," said I as the door shut, " since I fell ill 
 has taken entire possession of me, but I hope you 
 certainly will stay and have a cup of tea." 
 
 " Thanks very much," said Mr. Pulleyne, as 
 he took a chair beside me, " I have been calling on 
 various patients all the afternoon, and it is quite 
 hard work in a manner, for I havn't got used to 
 the ' northern ' pronunciation, and sometimes I 
 can hardly understand what they say." 
 
 "How do you like them?" I said, "though 
 perhaps it is scarcely a fair question, for they 
 delight, I know, in showing their bad side to 
 a stranger, and you havn't been here three weeks 
 yet. I fear you will find them very different from 
 your Oxford parishioners, and the country terribly 
 black, desolate, and windstricken after Christ 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 25 
 
 Church Meadows, the Parks, and Magdalen 
 Walks." 
 
 " Oh, but I think the landscape has a certain 
 charm nevertheless," he replied, "with its breezy 
 aspects and long stretches of field and fallow, lit 
 at sunrise and set with the crowded glories of the 
 sky. Last night, as I was walking abroad towards 
 sundown, the pageant of the west was all about 
 me : a clear cold wind blew from the north bear- 
 ing great clouds, like pictured galleons, set with 
 golden sails, across the plain before me as though 
 it were an inland sea. 
 
 Even your pit buildings, with their black 
 heapsteads and tall chimneys have a picturesque 
 appearance of a sort : at a distance they might be 
 taken for huge elephants lifting up their trunks to 
 Heaven, and when they let off their great clouds 
 of white steam one might think they were dragons 
 breathing forth hot breaths, and as for the pitmen 
 I like them extremely," he continued, and now he 
 had grown quite enthusiastic, " the married ones 
 especially, for they realise the responsibilities of 
 
26 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 life, but the younger ones — the unmarried men 
 and the boys — putters, as I believe they are called, 
 seem terribly rough and uncivilized, and to 
 delight in the profanest language. Still, young 
 men even at Oxford are ' barbarians,' as we have 
 been told, and I do not despair of them, for the 
 warmth of heart their elders display is very 
 encouraging, and leads me to hope that I may be 
 able to do some good amongst them. Anyway," 
 he added, " I mean to try, and though it may be 
 uphill work at first I will not be discouraged." 
 
 " I am very glad," I replied, "you like them 
 so well, for that is the only way to get at them. 
 Convince them you are their friend and take an 
 interest in them, and they respond readily enough. 
 At the same time they are curiously suspicious, 
 and if by chance one unwittingly offend them, — 
 a single inappropriate word or action will sometimes 
 suffice to raise a cloud of misunderstanding 
 amongst them, — months may elapse before you 
 can ' make it up,' as children say. Indeed they 
 resemble the most primitive order of children in 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 27 
 
 many ways, — sensitive, unruly, and terribly stub- 
 born when roused ; — their very warmth of heart is 
 oft-times an obstacle to peace, for they persist in 
 forming their judgment on the most sentimental 
 grounds. They pretend to an extreme radicalness, 
 believing they have been robbed of their rights in 
 some mysterious manner, though in their own 
 particular line none can be more conservative. 
 Introduce new machinery into the pit, and Geordie 
 forthwith clamours for a strike. 
 
 I overheard the other night two of them con- 
 versing. It was pay Friday night, and I think 
 they had had what they call their ' gills.' One 
 says to the other, ' Aa's as guid as anyone i' the 
 world, Geordie,' and his marrow, with a truculent 
 wag of the head and a lift of the elbow, responded, 
 1 Ay, an' so's aa.' ' Aa divvn't care for nebody 
 nor nowt,' says the former. ' An' aa divvn't 
 neither,' replied the second philanthropist. 
 
 Of course," I said in conclusion, for I saw the 
 light was dying down from my companion's cheek, 
 " I come across them in an official capacity, and 
 
28 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 they rather resent officials as a rule, but after all 
 'tis a case of much crying and very little wool. It 
 should be remembered, however, that I cannot speak 
 with any very great experience, for, though I have 
 been in the north before now, I have only been 
 settled here about six weeks, and I can scarcely 
 claim to have got to know them yet." 
 
 " Well," replied my companion, smiling once 
 again, "you must not discourage me too much, 
 and then, with a little management I trust to be 
 able to repair some of the lamentable damage 
 wrought by my predecessor in the parish." 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "I believe he did a great 
 deal of harm in a way, for though he was not 
 vicious, so far as I understand, he left behind him 
 the stain of a bad example to which any ill-wisher 
 can point with the easiest effect. They are used 
 to generalize from a particular instance, and they 
 love a ' score.' 
 
 They move so entirely in their own class that 
 their intellects, though active enough, remain like 
 oysters in a shell. On the pay Saturdays they will 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 29 
 
 go up to the town to see the sights ; will toss their 
 1 brass ' right and left, and often take stalls at the 
 theatre, but even there they move in company, 
 and come back home again heartily despising the 
 * dorty little cheps i' the toon.' 
 
 Yet considering their strength of character, 
 quaint idiosyncracies, and encrusted prejudices 
 they are really at heart a fair minded set of 
 men. The pity is that they rarely are allowed 
 to see the whole aspect of a question : their Union 
 bullies them, politicians flatter them, farmers and 
 tradesmen are frightened of them, and hence 
 their attitude is too often that of the thistly Scot 
 with his ' Nemo me impune lacessit.' But I fear I 
 bore you," I added, bethinking me that I was 
 monopolising the conversation. 
 
 " Not a bit, not a bit," he replied, "what you 
 say is very interesting, and should prove helpful to 
 a stranger like myself, new come amongst them. 
 
 After all, as their heart is in the right place I 
 do not think I need be afraid, and I shall gird up 
 
30 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 my loins to try to efface the memory of my pre- 
 decessor, and fill the church with worshippers." 
 
 " I hope you will," said I, as he shook hands 
 and prepared to depart, " but you must not, if I 
 may say so, be too impatient to begin with." 
 
Chapter II. 
 
 EPISODE THE FIRST. 
 
 Two or three days after this, and just as I was 
 preparing to go out for my first stroll, Mary came 
 in to announce that the Heckler was below, asking 
 after me. 
 
 " Show him up," I said at once, for I felt 
 that a " crack " with him would be very refresh- 
 ing after three weeks spent indoors. 
 
 " Hoo are ye, Sor?" he said, as he came in 
 after a most elaborate wiping of his boots on the 
 mat outside. 
 
 " Rather dicky about the legs," I replied, as 
 I timorously inserted my fingers into his brown 
 clasp. 
 
32 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 " Ay, yor aal that," he responded cheerfully, 
 " aal that," and he stood back a pace or two, 
 viewing me critically, as though I had been a 
 horse, "but yor clay's not so bad,"* he continued, 
 " and in another week, if ye divvn't have a relap, 
 ye'll be lookin' yorsel again. But, mind ye, divvn't 
 ye dose yorsel ower much wi' that doctor's muck," 
 and here he pointed disrespectfully at some bottles 
 on the mantlepiece, "but just take plenty o' mutton 
 ti eat an' a good sup castor oil between whiles. 
 That's what I elwis gives the dogs when they're 
 sick, an' thor's nowt like it i' the world. Wey, 
 thor wes a saplin' o' mine oot o' the aad bitch 
 that wes lookin' as shabby as ever I've seed ; sae 
 the lad sends for the vet, who gied her a proscrip- 
 tion, as he caa'd it, an' eftor that she wes warse 
 than ivvor, an' aa says ti mysel, ' she's a deid pig.'t 
 
 *Clay, complexion, bodily health, the body. This was one of " Temple 
 Tommy's " additions to the dialect. See note to " The Flight of 
 the Lodger." 
 
 + An expressive phrase denoting a hopeless case, suggested probably 
 by the aspect of a deceased porker. " Noo, canny Judge, play the right 
 card, and its a deid pig," is the reported utterance of a former worthy 
 Novocastrian Mayor to his guest at a critical point in a game of whist. 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 33 
 
 Sae I takes her in hand mysel, an' properly 
 drooned her wi' the oil, and plugged her up wi' 
 mutton, an' in a week she wes as gay as a two 
 year old again. 
 
 " Wey, ye might as well toss yor brass inti 
 the sea and hev done wiv it, as gan ti them doctors 
 and veteran surgeons, as they caal theirsels, that's 
 just in league wi' the undertakers. 
 
 " No, no, I've nivvor ailed any in my life, an' 
 that because I've elwis steered clear o' the doctors, 
 an' drugs an' aal," and with that he spat heartily 
 into the fire, evidently quite relieved of his prelim- 
 inary shyness. 
 
 " I've no doubt they're both excellent things," 
 I replied, with some haste, for I feared he would 
 insist upon sending me round a cargo of these 
 medicaments, " but I'm all right now, all I want 
 is some fresh air and exercise every day for a bit. 
 And now, tell me the news, for I have heard 
 nothing lately. How, for example, does your 
 friend, the rector, get on ? Has he made a good 
 start towards rilling up the empty pews ? ' 
 
 D 
 
34 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 " He's made a baddish start," replied the 
 Heckler gloomily, and I could see that his mind was 
 running on his bet, " he's not showed hissel clivvor 
 at gettin' off at aal. Wey, th' other night he wes 
 takin' the chair at a concort on behalf o' the Bible 
 Society, an' wiv its bein' pay Saturday thor wes a 
 good cumpany at it, an' he says i' the course ov 
 his remarks that they wes that liboral i' their 
 ideas that they wud even print bibles for the 
 Romans, who insist upon hevin' sartain things 
 put in and other things left oot wi' a view ti sip- 
 portin' their own particular doctrine. It's just 
 like Tom Hedley, the Conservative agent, I shud 
 fancy," continued the Heckler, thoughtfully, 
 "who's elwis gobbin' on that trades bettor under 
 the Conservatives than under the Liborals, an' 
 gans aboot wiv a coloured barometer an' a map o' 
 stattysticks ti try an' prove it, but aal the while 
 it's a mock'ry, for he elwis chooses oot the best 
 year o' the Tories an' the warst o' the Liborals. 
 
 " Weel, thor wes a local preacher there, an' 
 he cudn't sit still an' listen ti that wivoot makin' 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 35 
 
 his objections, sae up he gets, an' he says, ' Aa'm 
 fair surprised,' says he, right off ti the priest, 
 'that thoo, who is a monyment i' the Chorch ov 
 England, shud stand up there on a public platform 
 an' back up the Romans i' their false doctrines 
 an' aal, who, as aal folks kens, worships a man 
 for their God, an' bow down ti graven imiges, an' 
 ti gan an' alter wor English bible for the like o' 
 them is just fair sack'ledge,' says he. ' Isn't thoo 
 ashamed of thesel, an' disn't thoo mind hoo it is 
 written i' the Revelations that not even the littlest 
 word i' the book must be altered or changed 
 wivoot the sartinty o' damnation ? " 
 
 "And what did Mr. Pulleyne say to that ? " 
 I enquired. 
 
 " Wey, he justifies hissel in it, an' says that 
 thor wes as good Christians amongst the Romans 
 as amongst Protestants, an' that he hoped some 
 day the two classes might worship side by side i' 
 the same cathedral. Then the local preacher, he 
 loups up tarr'ble vext at this, an' he says for his 
 part he wes born a good Protestant, an' he'd die 
 
36 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 that same, an' wud sooner gan ti the gallus than 
 bow doon ti the Pope, whe wes just a man like 
 hissel, an' yet gives hissel oot ti be a God." 
 
 " But the local preacher was mistaken," said 
 I, " and surely he ought not to have interrupted 
 the meeting in that fashion ? " 
 
 " Wey, I divvn't knaa as ti that," replied my 
 companion, " I's no theologyan, an' mevvies the 
 preacher wes i' the wrang i' makin' sic a hurly- 
 burly aboot it, but the priest sartinly made a great 
 mistake i' justifyin' hissel as he did, an' backin' up 
 a furrinor like the Pope, who's just a nowt, as I 
 b'lieve, like the most o' thae furrinors ; no, no, he's 
 made a bad start, I tell thoo, for thor's a many 
 folk believes that the priest's half a Roman 
 hissel." 
 
 "Well," said I, " I think it is very unfair to 
 Mr. Pulleyne, but I don't suppose it will really 
 make very much difference to him in the long run, 
 for he's a nice fellow, ' a canny man,' as you say 
 hereabout, well meaning, and with his heart in his 
 work, so you needn't look so glum, for he may 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 37 
 
 still fill his church sooner than the Methody his 
 chapel, in which case your brass will be safe." 
 
 " Thor's lots o' cheps," replied the Heckler 
 gloomily, "who mean well, an' yet clag their foot 
 into everythin' that comes nigh them, an' thor's 
 anuther thing that stands i' the way ov his 
 success, an' that's the Methody. It's a hearsay," 
 he continued, " that him an' the priest wor up at 
 the college tegither, an' that the priest took the 
 advantage over him, an' got him given the bag, 
 an' sae t'other night when they meets for the first 
 time, an' the priest recognises him, an' holds oot 
 his hand for a shake, sayin', ' Hoo air ye, Mr. 
 Pearson ? I trust we may both work amy — amy — ' 
 suthin o' nuther, I divvn't ken the exact word," 
 broke off the Heckler, " but "— 
 
 " Amicably, perhaps, but we'll say like two 
 marrows, for the sake of clearness," I said, 
 suggesting an alternative reading. 
 
 "Ay, that's right noo," responded my com- 
 panion gratified, "thor's sense i' that, 'like two 
 marrers ' says he, but the Methody he claps his 
 
38 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 hands behind him, and just turns his backside tiv 
 him." 
 
 " Well, it was shocking bad manners, and it 
 ought to help the rector at the Methody's 
 expense," said I. 
 
 " I divvn't knaa," responded the Heckler, in 
 that curious unconvinced manner of his, which 
 was largely responsible for his nickname, " aboot 
 that, for if the priest behaved shabby tiv him at 
 the college what for should the Methody not gie a 
 bat back again when he gits a fair chance for it ? 
 I knaa I wud if any chep misbehaved hissel ti 
 
 me." 
 
 " Well, anyway," I said, as I moved from my 
 chair to get my hat and coat, " I hope you ain't 
 going to desert him, after backing him as you said 
 you had done the other day." 
 
 "No, no," replied he decisively, "I nivvor 
 hedged a bet i' my life, an' I nivvor will, an' I'm 
 gannin' ti do what I can for him, but I doot that 
 my marrer picked oot the winner this time : 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 39 
 
 that Methody's a powerfu' sort ov a chep, an' an 
 ill man ti hev for an enemy." 
 
 " Well," said I, " we must hope for the best ; 
 but now I must be going out for my walk, or it 
 will soon be too chilly for me." 
 
 " Ay, ay," responded the Heckler, again seiz- 
 ing my sore fingers in token of his good-will, "you 
 ought ti gan oot an' get a taste o' sunshine before 
 it's too late, an' mind an' hev a good sup o' the 
 oil at bedtime, an' we'll soon hev ye ti work again." 
 
 " So long," said I, as we parted at the door. 
 " So long," he echoed as he turned away, then, 
 stopping a moment, shouted after me as a parting 
 injunction, " divvn't forget the oil ; it's champion 
 for the influenzie ! " 
 
 As I walked along at as brisk a pace as my 
 weak legs would permit, I reflected upon his 
 report of the scene at the Bible Society's meeting. 
 " Of course," I thought to myself, " it is exactly 
 what might have been expected to happen, but to 
 a stranger, and one brought up at Keble College, 
 
40 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 Oxford, in a wholly alien atmosphere, such an 
 interruption must be extremely offensive. 
 
 I havn't the least doubt that the local preacher 
 thought he was testifying to the truth by urging 
 his objection : his very ignorance probably fosters 
 his ardour, and upon the generality heat of con- 
 viction, even if absurd, operates far more power- 
 fully than intellectual toleration. 
 
 As to the Methody, I wonder if there is any 
 truth in the Heckler's ' hearsay.' In the first 
 place, I should not have suspected him to be an 
 Oxford man, and in the second it is scarcely likely 
 that he would have been at the same College. 
 However, if it is true that he is his enemy, he will 
 doubtless have more chance of doing him an ill 
 turn here than anywhere else in England probably, 
 for the Rector's heart is evidently set upon his 
 work, and failure or even non-success would 
 grieve him terribly. The Methody, knowing 
 probably the bias and temper of the men's minds 
 is much less likely to ' clag his foot ' into it, as 
 the Heckler says, than the priest, and if the latter 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 41 
 
 makes a mistake 'twill be easy for the former to 
 turn it to his disadvantage." 
 
 I was thus thinking over the matter, when a 
 poster caught my eye with Mr. Pulleyne's name 
 prominently displayed upon it, and, stopping to 
 peruse it, I found it was an advertisement of a 
 lecture to be given the next night in the Co-oper- 
 ative Hall upon " Evolution, and its bearing upon 
 Belief; " — the Rev. Mr. Pulleyne in the chair. 
 
 " If I'm well enough, I'll go," thought I to 
 myself, " and see how he comports himself. It's 
 ten to one that the local preacher will be there 
 again, lynxeyed for an opportunity to ' have at ' 
 the Rector again. Probably his friends have heard 
 how he ' battled the priest doon ' the other night, 
 and will be there in force in the expectation of 
 another encounter." 
 
 The next evening, as the weather continued 
 warm and I felt stronger, I sallied forth, regard- 
 less of the doctor's orders, and made my way to 
 the Hall to hear the aforesaid lecture. There was 
 already a good company assembled, though it was 
 
42 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 still five minutes from the hour appointed, and, 
 looking around I could see a number of the more 
 sedate and earnest order of pitmen there, several 
 Methodies, the Heckler, the Rev. Mr. Pearson, 
 and, finally, the bushy head of " Red Tom." 
 
 Now as Red Tom had always been a stalwart 
 freethinker, and latterly, having lost his wife and 
 only bairn (to whom he had been absolutely 
 devoted), by some terrible accident with a parafin 
 lamp in his absence — a pronounced atheist ; I 
 foresaw that the Rector might again encounter 
 unexpected opposition. 
 
 A minute or two passed away, the audience 
 sitting silent and stolid after their usual fashion 
 till something should stir the hidden seeds of fire 
 to life. 
 
 Presently the door at the back opened, and 
 one of the Churchwardens entered on to the stage 
 above, and carried out the usual preliminary of 
 first altering the position of all the chairs on the 
 platform, and then setting them in their old 
 places again. 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 43 
 
 This successfully accomplished he returned to 
 the side door, and, a moment after, the Rector 
 made his appearance followed by another cleric 
 and a lady, the lecturer presumably and his wife, 
 the rear being brought up by the people's warden 
 — a stout, red-faced farmer of the neighbourhood, 
 clad in a heavily creased black tail coat, and bear- 
 ing a large geranium in his buttonhole. " It's 
 both Chorch an 9 State the neet," one fellow near 
 me muttered to another, nodding his head satiri- 
 cally in the direction of the farmer. 
 
 As they sat down there was a feeble flicker of 
 applause from below, and a voluminous outburst 
 from the farmer on the platform. Then the Rector 
 stepped forward, and introduced the Rev. Mr. 
 Chrysostom Smith to us as an Oxford parson with 
 a distinguished College record. Mr. Smith would 
 treat the question, he said, largely from the scien- 
 tific point of view, and he himself would eventually 
 add some few words dealing more particularly 
 with the religious aspect of the question. Mr. 
 Smith had not been embarked very long upon the 
 
44 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 sea of evolution before I was satisfied that he was 
 a very able yet dull gentleman — one of those born 
 to attain distinction in the 'Varsity schools, then 
 never to be heard of again, but to be met with in 
 the country, pedestalled as paterfamilias, and 
 pointed out with distinction as ' having once 
 written an article for the Encyclopedia.' 
 
 " I know that man," I thought to myself, as 
 he forged ahead into the swell of chafing disputa- 
 tions as to the world's age wherein mathematicians 
 and geologians sport like dolphins, " he comes 
 from St. John's, Cambridge, or Balliol College, 
 Oxford, to adopt the language of the man in the 
 play." 
 
 Whereupon — and the room was close more- 
 over — I believe I fell asleep; at any rate I remem- 
 bered no more till I suddenly saw the lecturer 
 sitting down, and helping himself largely from 
 the decanter of water on the table beside him. 
 
 Then Mr. Pulleynegot up, and, after thanking 
 Mr. Smith for his varied and interesting lecture, 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 45 
 
 commenced to make religious annotations, as it 
 were, upon it. 
 
 Commencing with the Old Testament History 
 he pointed out that it was not fair to judge of it 
 in the scientific critical spirit which we might 
 rightly apply to a modern book, dealing with 
 religion or metaphysics ; for the world was in its 
 childhood then, and had neither the knowledge, 
 nor the accumulated stores of experience which 
 some three thousand years had left as their 
 heritage to ourselves. 
 
 Antagonists, he said, as also half-hearted 
 friends, were continually seizing upon details, and 
 triumphantly enquiring " What can you say to 
 that?" Delighting in the scientific learning of 
 the day, they call for facts, and again for facts, in 
 a domain which lies outside the sphere of mathe- 
 matical proof. Then, on the other hand, if one 
 applies to them for an explanation of the deepest 
 and most wonderful things of life they have none 
 to give ; one asks for bread and they give a stone. 
 
 Next he proceeded to deal — and in a larger 
 
46 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 spirit than I should have expected of him — with 
 some of the recorded miracles of the Old Testa- 
 ment. The details, he said, might seem strange 
 to modern minds, but the substance was beyond 
 the alchemies of science. In some cases it was 
 possibly a mere question of literary treatment, of 
 style it might almost be said, or at least of forcible 
 presentment ; in others the subject might be 
 treated allegorically in order that a wider view 
 might be attained. Then, gradually losing his 
 first hesitancy, and growing more impassioned, he 
 dealt with the question of ideals, and quoted 
 instances of great attainments under the stimulus 
 of high purpose. 
 
 No nation ever yet, he continued, quoting 
 from Mr. Froude, attained to greatness save under 
 the fear of God, then after a fine passage out of 
 Tennyson, he added to the splendid boast of 
 Glaucus, that we are better than our fathers, the 
 noble prayer of Hector that our sons might be 
 better than ourselves, and finally looked forward, 
 he said, to an evolution that would bring peace to 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 47 
 
 the warring instincts of mankind, and draw the 
 whole world slowly nearer to the sky. 
 
 Finally, he emphasised as a fact borne out by 
 the hard won experience of mankind through 
 countless ages, the saying of King David, that it 
 was but the fool who said in his heart, " There is 
 no God." 
 
 Therewith he sat down, and I could see that 
 he was trembling with emotion. 
 
 After a moment or two he rose up again, and 
 enquired if anyone would like to ask the lecturer 
 any questions that might have occurred to him 
 during the discourse. 
 
 Save for a shuffle here and there, not the 
 slightest interest or emotion seemed to have been 
 aroused. 
 
 The men sat like a wall, impassive, silent, 
 stolid ; some with their caps still slouched over 
 their eyes, and hands in pocket as they had been 
 at the very beginning. 
 
 * The parson's scholarly eloquence was over 
 their heads,' I reflected ; 'quotations from Tenny- 
 
48 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 son and Froude they cannot comprehend, I 
 suspect ; what they require to stir them from 
 their lethargy is the untutored eloquence of a 
 " Temple Tommy " pulsing from the heart, and 
 borne forth upon a tide of personal experience.' 
 
 There was a slight movement on the platform 
 which seemed to signalize a departure, when I 
 saw Mr. Pearson nudge his next door neighbour, 
 who thereon sheepishly rose to his feet. 
 
 " What aa wud like to ask at the chairman, 
 is this," says the man, " hoo is it that the Chorch 
 is sae intolerant tiv others ov a different persuasion ! 
 Noo, aa'l gie ye an example o' what aa mean," he 
 continued, " for aa's a fair man, an' wudn't tak 
 the advantage ov anyone wivoot givin' him due 
 notice o' the fact. Weel, th'other day aa wes 
 travellin' on the railway, an' thor wes a priest in 
 the carriage (a Chorch ov England priest just the 
 same as thoo is) : it wes a smoker, by the ways, 
 an' the priest hissel wes smokin' his pipe, an 
 taalkin' tiv his neebor aboot religious mattors, an' 
 aa owerhears him say, " Whenivvor aa meets wi' a 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 49 
 
 Roman or a dissenter aa gets taken wiv a shiver 
 doon the back," says he. Ay, an' noo aa'l gie ye 
 anuthor," continued the spokesman, warming to 
 his work, as he saw the Rector rising from his chair 
 to reply. " Aa hev a sister that lives i' the next 
 parish, that's tarr'ble ill off, for her man, 'at she 
 wes married on, wes killed doon i' the pit, an' left 
 her wiv a big fam'ly ; weel, one tarr'ble hard 
 winter she wes nigh done for want o' warm cloth- 
 in' an' meat. Sae she gans ti the priest, whe had 
 the dispensin' o' charities for the poor o' the 
 village, an' she says, she wud be main thankfu' for 
 a blanket for her bairns an' a bit soup or meat ti 
 feed them wi'. Are thoo a Chorchwoman ? says 
 he. " No," says she, a bit proud-like mevvies, 
 " Aa's a purebred Methody like my feyther an' 
 mither afore us," says she. 
 
 "Then," says he, "thoo gets ne blanket frae 
 me, nor ne sup o' soup neether," says he, an' there- 
 with he claps ti the door iv her face. 
 
 " Noo, tell me this," said the orator, now 
 worked up to a pitch of excitement, " hoo can 
 
 E 
 
50 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 thoo justify that? is that Christian or Christlike 
 ti gan an' treat a poor weeda woman that gait ? 
 Isn't it the Chorch itsel that stans i' the way o' 
 peace an' harmony? 
 
 " Aye, it is," said the orator hotly, answering 
 the question for himself, " nobbut the Chorch, an' 
 what's the need talkin' ov Evolution, an' sic like 
 nonsense, when what we want is a Revolution ; ay, 
 an' we'll hev it too, aa's warned, an' then mevvies 
 the poor will get what belongs ti them wivoot any 
 distinction o' sexes." And therewith the speaker 
 plumped himself down on the form, red hot with 
 indignation. 
 
 There was an unmistakable murmur and 
 undercurrent of applause and sympathy through- 
 out the conclusion of the harangue — for question 
 it could scarcely be called — and I saw from the 
 way in which the men about me were straightening 
 their backs and sitting up, that their interest was 
 now thoroughly aroused, as the prospect of a hot 
 discussion grew imminent. 
 
 The Rector, in replying, laid stress upon the 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 51 
 
 fact that matters in connection with charities were 
 often unfortunately misrepresented, and that it 
 was to be feared intolerance was to be found in all 
 classes of society, but he believed, and here he 
 quoted some statistics, that the Church had made 
 greater progress in the affections of the people 
 within the last few years than all the other sects 
 together. He added that local charities were 
 often so small that only some half-dozen individ- 
 uals each year could be relieved by them : and 
 that it was perhaps but natural, where they 
 had been left by Churchmen for Churchmen, that 
 members of the Church should be the first to be 
 taken notice of. 
 
 In conclusion, he pointed out that it was 
 surely not fair to meddle with the bequests of 
 Churchmen, when Dissenters were left to dispose 
 of their own property at their own free will. 
 
 Finally, touching upon the question of Dis- 
 establishment, (the introduction of which, as he 
 truly pointed out, was quite alien from the issues 
 of the lecture), he grew warm in his turn, and 
 
52 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 opined that such an act would be a stain upon the 
 national records, and he hoped, please Heaven, he 
 might never live to see that day. 
 
 As soon as he was seated Mr. Pearson got up, 
 (and my previous suspicions that he had prompted 
 his neighbour to ask such a question as might lead 
 to a political discussion at once received con- 
 firmation), and enquired in suave tones which 
 contrasted favourably with the heated manner of 
 the first questioner, whether the Reformation was 
 not itself a " stain upon the national records, ' 
 when it was borne in mind that the State then 
 confiscated the bequests of Roman Catholics and 
 transferred them without compensation to the 
 Reformed Church of England, 
 
 The Rector, in replying, pointed out that the 
 last speaker was surely under a misapprehension, 
 for that all the State had done in the sixteenth 
 century was to dissolve the monasteries which had 
 notoriously failed in their duties and become 
 corrupt, so that in the interest of general expedi- 
 ency and morality it was a wise, wholesome, and 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 53 
 
 most justifiable action. So far indeed was it from 
 the truth, he continued, to say that a new Church 
 had been set up at the Reformation, that it was 
 well known that Roman Catholics and Church- 
 men continued to worship side by side for some 
 years afterwards — until indeed the Pope formally 
 excommunicated Queen Elizabeth. In conclusion 
 he would add, the only real change effected was to 
 transfer the supreme Headship of the Church 
 of England from the Pope to the English Monarch. 
 The Methody again rose, and in the same 
 suave manner as before, pointed out that there 
 was a division of opinion on the matter, and here 
 he insinuated that the Rector was deficient in his 
 historical knowledge, for many of the old observ- 
 ances of the ancient Church were pronounced to 
 be " superstitious," and many new innovations 
 made, as for example in permitting priests to 
 marry. There could be no manner of doubt, he 
 continued, that the case of those who wished for 
 disestablishment and disendowment nowadays 
 was exactly on all fours with the Reformation pro- 
 
54 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 cedure. It was a certain fact that the State had 
 taken away the endowments of the monasteries of the 
 ancient regime, and given them to whom it would, 
 and what was to prevent the State of to-day acting 
 in a like manner ? There were numbers who 
 thought the Church was still deficient in perform- 
 ing its duties, and wholly unjustified in withhold- 
 ing from the community at large what had been 
 meant to be left to that community. The various 
 flourishing bodies of Dissenters of to-day had 
 seceded from the Church because of her notorious 
 neglect of her duties in times past, and because of 
 her apeing the ceremonies of the Roman Church, 
 to which it was asserted that many of the so-called 
 Anglican clergy even nowadays visibly inclined. 
 There was a titter here through the audience, and 
 it was evident that the speaker was deftly turning 
 to advantage the episode of the Rector's 
 " heckling " at the Bible Society's meeting 
 recently. Finally, he demanded the disestablish- 
 ment and disendowment of the Church in the 
 " interest of general expediency and morality," 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 55 
 
 and quoted, amidst a general applause, the dictum 
 of an eminent Churchman, " that the day of 
 Establishments was past and gone." 
 
 No sooner had he resumed his seat than the 
 stalwart form of " Red Tom " was seen to rise. 
 
 And now indeed the gradually growing inter- 
 est gathered to a head, and, like a breaker as it 
 nears the bar, seems to carry overwhelming 
 impulse with it. The air had grown electric 
 suddenly, and I myself, though of a fairly cool 
 temperament, felt the strange feeling of excite- 
 ment creeping up my back. 
 
 Some men further away had now risen to 
 their feet, those nearer craned their heads forward 
 to catch sight of the speaker's face, and a cry 
 even now rose from some of the rougher looking 
 men behind, of " Gan on Red Tom ; howay wi' 
 thoo." 
 
 Taking no notice of those about him, but 
 keeping his eyes fixed steadily in the direction of 
 the Rector, Red Tom commenced to speak 
 quietly and in a subdued manner, but signs were 
 
56 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 not wanting that he was but preluding till he had 
 gathered his strength for an outbreak in full force. 
 " Whiles thoo wes speakin' 'enoo thoo quoted the 
 words o' King David, that 'twes but a fool whe 
 shud say, ' Thor is ne God.' Then thoo went on 
 ti say as hoo 'twes wrang ti criticise the Bible, for 
 that it wes written in an ignorant age when folk 
 wesn't as clivvor as they be 'enoo- Ay, but I ax 
 thoo this, isn't facts the same yesterday as to-day, 
 three thoosand years syne as in 1890, an' what 
 hes thoo for answor ti this, that just as fast as 
 knowledge increases sae belief iv a God gans back. 
 Is Herbert Spensor a fool as ye caal him ? an' 
 Huxley ? an' Tyndall ? an' Darwin ? an' aal the 
 great scholards o' the age ? What right has thoo 
 or the Jew King nowther, ti caa men ov sic a 
 calibre as them is, fools. Wheor's yor grounds 
 for't, aa wud like ti ask ? Wey, it's just an 
 impittence, a barefaced impittence ti clag sic 
 epithets ti men like that. An' noo agen, what's 
 the explanation you priests gie o' the warld an' 
 the life o' man i' the warld ? It's just a nowt ; at 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 57 
 
 the best it's but poetry, an' at the warst it's 
 degradin' morality. Hoo dis a priest comfort ye 
 i' yor affliction an' distress, think ye?" and here 
 he turned round to the men about him, " wey, he 
 comes an' he says, 'Thoo's a sinner, my friend, an' 
 the punishment is sent thoo ti fetch thoo inti the 
 narrer path.' 
 
 " Ay, an' what dis the Chorch dee when a 
 man, 'stead o' behavin' hissel an' puttin' the curb 
 ontiv his passions, just gives hissel aloose an' 
 brings mevvies a dozen or more mouths inti the 
 warld wi' nowt ti feed them on ? Wey, the Chorch 
 sits still wiv it's hands iv it's lap, and says, ' The 
 Lord will provide.' Ay," he repeated slowly with a 
 pitiless precision, ' The Lord will provide.'' 'Tis 
 a pretty sayin', ne doot, ay, an' dootless it's line 
 poetry, but what's the prose on't ? Wey, aa'l tell 
 thoo : the half o' those bairns will be starved or 
 beaten ti death mevvies, an' th'other half will find 
 their way at the finish ti the Bastile* or the 
 gallows, an' aal the while priests are gannin' aboot 
 
 * Workhouse. 
 
58 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 wi their eyes aal shut ti the facts o' life, quoting 
 this an' quotin' that, an' saying wiv a solemn air : 
 
 " Aa hev been young an' noo am aad, yet 
 nivvor hev aa seen the righteous forsaken nor his 
 seed beggin' bread. 
 
 " For what dee priests knaa o' life? Look at 
 their hands, an' ye'll ken that they've nivvor done 
 a handstir o' wark, frae the cradle ti the grave. 
 They gan up an' doon wi' their wife an' their 
 bairns, an' hev aal the divarsion i' the land, fed by 
 the State an' well nourished, an' ivvory noo an' 
 agen ye may hear them say, like the sentry cheps 
 i' the barracks, ' Aal's well.' 
 
 " Ay, but aa ken what thoo'll say," he con- 
 tinued with a still more defiant ring in his voice, 
 for the Rector here made a movement as though 
 he were about to interrupt, "thoo'll say aa's in 
 danger ov Hell-fire for what aa's sayin' noo. Ay, 
 but hoo dis thoo ken that ? When maa time 
 comes, an' aa is put unner the sod, is aa ti be 
 resurrected an' made inti flesh an' blood agen, an' 
 aal ti be burnt wi' fire an' brimstone ? Na, na, 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 59 
 
 tell that ti babes an' women folk ti steer them wi'; 
 not tiv a full grown man whe cannot swallow sic 
 an aad wife's tale as that. 
 
 "An' whe is a priest that he shud say this 
 tiv a man mevvies as good or even bettor than 
 hissel ? 
 
 " Look at the last priest we had here," he 
 continued with mighty scorn, and here I saw Mr. 
 Pulleyne shiver like some delicate woman insulted 
 on the open street, " he wes a fine example tiv his 
 flock, aa's warn'd, aye clartin' on, an' clartin' on, 
 wi the beer — and carryin' on forbye wiv his fightin' 
 cocks an aal — a fair disgrace, not alone tiv his 
 cloth, but tiv aal manhood as weel aa maintain." 
 
 He paused here for a moment, then, with a 
 wonderful self-restraint, for the most ferocious 
 satire was painted on his gleaming face, "Ay" he 
 said quietly, " but he wes a man o' God, an' aa's but 
 a faggot for hell" 
 
 Then, without once having to stop even for 
 an instant for the word or metaphor he wanted, 
 he commenced to give some details of his life, and 
 
60 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 the reasons he had for his opinions, and his views 
 for the bettering of the world. 
 
 The man was a born orator, and as I listened 
 to the smooth stream of burning words I could 
 not but bethink me of the tapping of some steel 
 furnace when the fiery white-hot metal streams 
 swiftly, silently, irresistibly to its close. 
 
 It was not to the Church we must look,' he 
 maintained, 'but to the State for any amelioration 
 of the world, for the Church preached nothing but 
 dry-as-dust Toryism, insisting on the out-worn 
 feudal doctrine that a man should live contented 
 in that station of life to which God had called 
 him ; but if a man did not hold with that, but 
 rather tried to better himself and get knowledge 
 to himself, how did the parsons treat him then ? 
 
 Why, they said he was a Socialist, and an 
 Atheist, and a dangerous person, and passed by 
 on the other side with a text on their lips and the 
 white of the eyes showing, and left him to battle 
 it out for himself against the world. 
 
 As for himself if he had lived contented, he 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 61 
 
 would have been a drunkard like his father before 
 him, who died through being always ' on the beer.' 
 Many a struggle too he had against his tempta- 
 tions, and many a fight for the control over 
 himself, but he always behaved himself, and 
 did his duty by his work and his masters, 
 knowing full well that he had none other to 
 depend upon but his own self. Everything he had 
 done he had done at his own cost, had turned 
 scholard, and bought books, and books had taught 
 him this, that Christianity had been the greatest 
 clog of all to progress, for it had fostered super- 
 stitions and nurtured ignorance.' 
 
 "An' what d'ye think the priest tell't me?" 
 he continued hotly, " him that wes here as Depity 
 before thoo came inti possession " — and here he 
 shot forth his words like arrows at the Rector 
 fronting him on the platform — " when the dear 
 wife died an' the bairn wiv her aal iv one black 
 day. Aa hed come back frae my shift, an aa wes 
 delightin' mysel i' the thought o' seeing her bonnie 
 face agen, for she wes bonnie," and here his proud 
 
62 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 voice broke for a moment, and his lips quivered, 
 but with a wonderful effort he regained his self- 
 control, and continued in subdued tones which 
 were even more effective than his former heat. 
 
 " Thor wes nivvor anuther face for me i' the 
 warld, an' often times aa swore ti mysel that nowt 
 shud part us, nor nivvor sae much as a cross 
 look or word frae me shud come atwixt us frae 
 wor courtin' ti' the grave, an' sae it wes, an' aa 
 kept maa word till that day came when on 
 enterin' the hoos aa found maa darlin' lass an' 
 baby bairn just blackened corpses lyin' on their 
 beds. 
 
 " Ay, an' when aa wes i' the thick an' torment 
 o' maa misery whe shud come in but the priest, an' 
 he lays a hand on my shoulder, an' he says, * Thoo 
 musn't repine ower much, for 'tis a judgment frae 
 God, an' thoo knaas that whom the Lord loveth 
 He chasteneth.' Love," he echoed with a bitter 
 scorn, " love he said, an' talked o' love, but 'tis 
 little he knaas o' love that can speak like that." 
 Here he paused for a moment, then with a 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 63 
 
 strangled sob he added : " Wey, aa didn't even 
 treat a poor dog like that. 
 
 " Eh, maa dear lassie, but thoo knaad how aa 
 loved thee, ay, an' the wee bairnie too, an' that aa 
 wud ha died for thoo wiv delight if aa might. An 
 then for a white-faced priest wiv his mincin' 
 words thinkin' ti set aal reet — wey, it's a 
 mock'ry," — and here the strong man's utterance 
 broke to a groan, and there for the space of a 
 minute he stood, fairly battling with himself, then 
 flung himself round, and strode forth from the 
 Hall, brushing the men aside from him like flies, 
 as he walked straight forward with his eyes like 
 burning coals in the dark caverns that grief and 
 despair and misery had hewn in his deep brow. 
 
 For a minute or more there was a dead 
 silence. Then the Rector rose, and I could see 
 that his face was pale with emotion and his whole 
 frame was trembling, but whether from nervous- 
 ness or indignation at the attack upon himself and 
 his profession I could not determine. 
 
 There was a general movement as he rose, 
 
64 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 and it was evident that after the impassionate 
 oratory of the last speaker the men would not be 
 ready to listen to any further utterance. 
 
 Mr. Pulleyne indeed had not got very far, 
 before he was interrupted by various exclamations 
 from below. Whilst being greatly grieved, he 
 said, at the terrible domestic misfortune that had 
 lately befallen their comrade, he could not sit 
 there silent after the fierce attack made upon his 
 religion and his cloth. 
 
 The question of the eternal truths of Christ- 
 ianity could not be disposed of by reckless 
 assertions which to his mind were little short of 
 blasphemous. For himself, he would have been 
 glad to have met quietly with the speaker, and to 
 have endeavoured to bring him into a better frame 
 of mind, but he feared, — Here one interrupted 
 crying, though in no unfriendly manner, " Thoo'd 
 best leave him alone, he's ower Strang for the like 
 o' thoo," and immediately after another rudely 
 shouted, "Hurroo, for Red Tom, he's bested the 
 priest oot an' oot." 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 65 
 
 ' Keep a civil tongue i' yor heid, thoo b ," 
 
 growled the Heckler from near beside me, and in 
 a word, the meeting broke up in confusion. 
 
Chapter II. 
 
 TWA CRACKS." 
 
 As I opened my window after breakfast the next 
 morning I saw the Heckler in the distance 
 leading some four or five greyhounds in leash, 
 evidently with a view to exercising them. 
 
 I remembered then that I had heard the 
 " buzzer " blowing at 7.45 the previous evening, 
 so that the pit of course would be lying idle that 
 day, and my friend as a consequence would have 
 plenty of leisure for a " crack." The sun was 
 bright, so I determined to take my constitutional 
 earlier than usual in the hope that I might fall in 
 with him, and so have a chance of discussing the 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 67 
 
 events of the previous evening while they were 
 still warm in his memory. 
 
 I was concerned for Mr. Pulleyne, because I 
 knew instinctively how keenly he felt on such 
 matters. In the first place his religion was no 
 mere formula, but a living thing for him, and he 
 would resent any insult or slur cast upon it as 
 keenly as another man might an aspersion on the 
 character of his bride. For he was not the type 
 of man who, when thrown by hostile circumstance, 
 will comfortably accept defeat, and like Pontius 
 Pilate of old, throw off all responsibility by the 
 method of public ablution. 
 
 An idealist in the temper of his mind, and of 
 a sensitive, eager, bodily habit, the Rector must 
 always be pressing onward to some new scheme 
 or plan, or he would inevitably sink into despond's 
 slough and the morass of the hypochondriac. 
 
 Your idealist, thought I, is always in the right 
 of it, and his influence enormous, though 'tis often 
 somewhat in the nature of an after-glow ; but for 
 " quick returns " give me a sound, stupid, practical 
 
68 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 man, with lots — " Hullo," I exclaimed abruptly, 
 for half-a-dozen greyhounds here leapt upon me 
 as I turned the corner. 
 
 " Down then, down," cried I, as I bestowed a 
 hasty pat here and there upon the eager, quivering 
 forms of the Heckler's " saplings," endeavouring 
 to assume that firm yet affectionate manner which 
 is the heritage only of the born dog-fancier. A 
 whistle, however, here sounding suddenly, away 
 shot the pack with backs bending like a bow, to 
 where their owner stood some 200 yards off in the 
 roadway. 
 
 I followed slowly, and no sooner had we 
 exchanged greetings than the Heckler remarked : 
 
 " Well, an' what's yor opinion o' the last 
 night's performance, for I see'd thoo wes there ?" 
 
 " I believe," I replied, " that the Methody was 
 at the bottom of the row, for I saw him give a 
 nudge to the first questioner, and it was evident 
 from his speaking that he opened out the path for 
 the tirade that followed, for if he had not played 
 the part of finger-post, the meeting would have 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 69 
 
 broken up with a vote of thanks to lecturer and 
 chairman, and a growl or protest only from 
 Red Tom. 
 
 "Ay, yor right, yor right there, for that's 
 what I says mysel," replied the Heckler with 
 emphasis, " an', sink me," he continued warmly, 
 " but I think it wes a dirty trick o' the Methody's, 
 for what wes he doin' but backin' up a chep who 
 wes battlin' doon aal religion tegithor, Chorch, 
 an' Chapel, an' aal ? No, no, a chep shud stick 
 up for his perfession, whativvor it may be, for 
 a man's only half a man whe doesn't stick in tiv his 
 perfession wiv aal his poo-wers. Wey just look at 
 the aad bitch ! d'ye think she'd ever hav win all 
 her cups and prizes if she'd hedn't stuck her whole 
 soul inti the coursing ?" 
 
 " The Methody gies oot o' course," he con- 
 tinued more slowly, " that he's a Radical, an' the 
 priest's a Conservative, but I divvn't see that that 
 has much ti do wiv it, for the lecture had nowt to 
 do wiv politics at the start, an' after all even if a 
 
70 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 chep is a Tory he hes a right tiv his opinions, 
 though they mevvies are as rotten as a paste-egg. 
 
 "I's aal for the disestablishment o' the Chorch 
 mysel, for I divvn't see whey I shud pay for aal 
 these priests, an' their wives, an' families ; an' 
 forbye that, I wud like that big stone ower the 
 Chorch porch for my pigeon-ducket, but I divvn't 
 see wey that Methody chep shud play the candy- 
 man* aal the same, for he gets his wage from 
 his 'flock,' as they ca'al their congregation, an' 
 I'll lay odds he'd skin them if he didn't get his 
 pay reg'lor — an' it canna matter tiv him, like it 
 does ti my marrer an' me, whether the Chorch is 
 disestablished or not. I's not a religious man 
 mysel," resumed my companion meditatively, " I's 
 ower fond o' dogs for that, I doot. Wey," he 
 added, as he gazed fondly down upon one of his 
 silver-coated ' saplings,' " wivvoot a dog I's 
 warned I shud feel just properly stark naked. No, 
 no, there wes Temple Tommy, he tried his 
 hand at convartin' ov us, but I says tiv him : Will 
 
 *Bum-baili£f : the man who serves notice of ejectment. 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 71 
 
 I hev ti gie up carryin' on wiv dogs, an' coursin', 
 an' gamblin' an aal ? " Yes," he says, "I doot thoo 
 must, for thoo's far ower much ta'en up wi' thae 
 things ; they're warldly blandishments," he says, 
 "an' a tarr'ble hindrance on the narrer path. Hoo 
 can thoo listen properly tiv a call frae the Lord 
 when yor ears is full o' the yow-yow o' greyhounds, 
 and the chink o' schoolin'* dollars," says he ? 
 There wes but the one chep i' the Bible," he 
 said, " who, after he had once given hissel ti 
 the Lord, was allowed ti keep on at his former 
 ways, an' Tommy wes'nt sartin, so he said, that 
 even he'd been properly convarted. I cannot 
 mind the chep's name, but I b'lieve it wes Rum'un, 
 or suthin' o' that kind. Mevvies he wes a dog- 
 man like mysel, an' cudn't gie up the coursin'." 
 
 Here the Heckler paused for a moment, and 
 looking down at the " warldly blandishments " 
 gambolling at his feet, heaved a sigh, then shaking 
 his head slightly, again took up his narrative. 
 
 *" Schooling," gambling by way of pitch and toss. Two coins are 
 usually thrown up, and bets are made on the chance of both coming 
 down "heads" or "tails." 
 
72 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 " Its surprisin' ti think how different folks is. 
 Wey, thor's Tommy hissel, just wiv a proper gift 
 for religion ; its just meat, an' drink, an' baccy 
 tiv him, I b'lieve. Then thor's mysel, an oot 
 an' oot dog-man, wiv a reg'lor passion for grey- 
 hounds an' a tarr'ble inkstick for gamblin'. Then 
 thor's yorsel, mevvies thoo hes a sly eye for the 
 lasses, or a weakness for the beer, or — " as I made 
 haste to protest, " cares nowt for owt but books. 
 Then there's Red Tom, who canna abide religion 
 at aal, but is aal for makin' folks better by the 
 help o' Parlyament an' eddycashun. By !" he 
 exclaimed abruptly, " when one has a bit time for 
 a turn o' pheelosophy, as Red Tom calls it, what 
 a queer world it is now — a tarr'ble queer affair, 
 like one o' thae riddles the eldest lassie was askin' 
 at us t'other day. * Does thoo gie it up, daddie ? ' 
 says she, wiv her eyes pokin' fun at us aal the 
 while, as I sat there on the tub, half washed. 
 * Yes,' I says, after a bit wrastle wiv it, * I does,' 
 1 Ay,' says she, ' an' so did t'other cuddy.' 
 Wow, but she's a clivvor one is wor Jeannie!" 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 73 
 
 concluded the Heckler, and straightway, forgetful 
 of " pheelosophy " became absorbed in a retro- 
 spective admiration of his daughter's wit. 
 
 " So you don't think, then, that the Rector 
 need be much discouraged because of last night's 
 performance?" I enquired, for I was anxious to 
 discover how public opinion tended. 
 
 " No, no, he mustn't take it ower much tiv 
 heart," replied the Heckler, "for though he didn't 
 come quite first-class oot i' the set-to, yet, at all 
 events, he stuck up for his perfession, which is 
 mair nor the Methody done. Mevvies he held his 
 head a bit ower high, sort o' givin' oot that Red 
 Tom had no right tiv any opinions ov his own at 
 aal, but it's a free country an' a chep can hold 
 what opinions he likes, I maintain, sae lang as he 
 behaves hissel properly. Thor's nae doot that 
 Red Tom bested the priest last night, but then, 
 Red Tom cud best most o' folks at an argy, for 
 he's a tarr'ble powerfu' orator, an' once his steam's 
 up thor's no stoppin' him. No, no," he concluded, 
 " Mr. Methody cam worst oot o' the show last 
 
74 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 night, an' I still backs the priest to fill his chorch 
 sooner than him, an' to fettle him proper at the 
 finish." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so," I replied, 
 "and now I must be moving, for the doctor says 
 a fresh cold might set me back again." 
 
 " Ay, ay, that's right now, tak' care o' yorsel, 
 an' divvn't have a relap," replied the Heckler, " a 
 relap is a bad job always, an' the warst part o' the 
 whole business i' ' the influenzie.' " 
 
 So we parted, and as I returned homewards 
 I determined I would go and call upon Mr. Pul- 
 leyne that afternoon, and find out whether he was 
 cast down or no by the discouraging circumstances 
 of the previous evening. 
 
 The fact that the Heckler thought the Rector 
 had borne himself better under the onslaught of 
 Red Tom than when replying to the heckling of 
 the local preacher on the subject of Roman Cathol- 
 icism, was certainly encouraging, though in the first 
 instance rather surprising to me. Yet, after all, I 
 reflected, there are very few atheists in the world, 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 75 
 
 and what the men like in Red Tom is the genuine 
 humanity of the man, his sympathy with the poor, 
 his hatred of the smugness and hypocrisies of the 
 well-to-do. 
 
 His vision is limited, his experience small, but 
 he knows of the struggles and the hardships of the 
 poor, and when he speaks his words are winged ; 
 he shoots his arrows into the air, as the song says, 
 and straight they fly into the hearts of his friends. 
 
 When I called in the afternoon I found the 
 Rector in, and after he had given me a cup of tea he 
 offered me a cigarette, and very shortly, after a 
 few indifferent remarks, we found ourselves in the 
 thick of an argument. 
 
 I had begun the conversation by offering my 
 sympathy concerning the events of the previous 
 evening. I added an apology for my own inaction 
 in the matter, by saying that so far as my own short 
 experience of the men went, it was better to let 
 a man have his say out than try to stop him, for 
 in that case they inclined to believe that you did 
 so because your side was getting the worst of the 
 
76 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 encounter, " and finally, to be quite frank," I 
 added, " the man's eloquence kept me spellbound, 
 as it were, for last night I understood, for the first 
 time, what oratory, even in a rough form, really 
 
 is." 
 
 He bowed to me slightly, then pausing for a 
 moment, asked almost abruptly, " But you cannot 
 surely defend the man ? " 
 
 " Oh no," I replied, " not for a moment, but 
 I do think this, that he is a genuinely earnest man, 
 and, therefore, almost certain to be misunderstood. 
 I mean," I added hastily, for I saw the creases 
 gathering on the rector's boyish brow, " that 
 apart from the absolute inappropriateness of the 
 attack in the first place, and the total want of 
 anything approaching to politeness to yourself, 
 and the gross unfairness of his attitude in making 
 you a peg, as it were, upon which to hang his 
 tirade, — apart from all these, I think there was 
 more fault to be found with the Methody than 
 with Red Tom, for the Methody paved the way 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 77 
 
 for the other's attack; — that, I think, was quite 
 evident." 
 
 The Rector said nothing, but I thought I 
 caught the sound of a sigh, and then I suddenly 
 recollected the Heckler's story of an old quarrel 
 between the two. Mr. Pulleyne volunteered no 
 remark, however, so I went on again with my 
 reflections. " Of course I do not wish to be 
 thought to endorse his opinions either, but I have 
 had some conversations with him previously, and 
 I have even lent him various books, and I can say 
 this, that he is really, I believe, a seeker after 
 truth in his own fashion, and largely partakes of 
 the genus reformer. I even believe that had he 
 lived some two hundred and fifty years ago he 
 would have been one of the most earnest of the 
 Puritans, a Sectary or Independent, of course, 
 and would have fired his hearers with enthusiasm 
 for a godly life, and terrified them with his revela- 
 tions of the wrath to come. 
 
 " For it is evident that here is a man with 'fire 
 in his belly,' to use an old but suggestive phrase, 
 
78 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 who cannot but half believe, or disbelieve, as so 
 many do nowadays, but must put his whole heart 
 and soul into everything he says and does. One 
 may even doubt whether he really is genuinely an 
 atheist or freethinker. No doubt he thinks he is, 
 yet, from what he said, it is evident that heaven 
 and hell are very real things to him, not quite in 
 the ordinary sense perhaps, but looking at the 
 matter in a broad light, he has a real love of 
 righteousness and virtue, and what he hates is 
 lukewarmness and the complacency of the comfort- 
 able many. Most people are perfectly happy if 
 they get so much to eat and so much to drink per 
 diem; and they go to church on Sundays because 
 Mrs. Grundy still continues to uphold church- 
 going, but how genuinely they love righteousness 
 and hate vice is a difficult question to answer. 
 They call themselves orthodox, of course, but 
 what precisely is orthodoxy ? Is it not outward 
 acquiescence in traditional routine ? ' As it was, 
 is now, and ever shall be, world without end, 
 amen/ — and so home to dine on roast beef and 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 79 
 
 plum-pudding, with portly burgher and satin 
 rustling dame. 
 
 " Some again are practically freethinkers, but 
 would be horrified at the accusation, and why ? 
 because they are not sufficiently courageous or 
 intellectually consistent enough to definitely thrash 
 the matter out for themselves ; they are cowardly, 
 and prefer to take refuge in a ' facing-both-ways ' 
 attitude, neither wholly believing, nor disbelieving. 
 It is only a few years ago since free-thinking was 
 a bar sinister socially, and though that has largely 
 ceased to operate, there is always the satisfaction 
 of being * on the side of the largest battalions,' 
 and the comfortable feeling that after all if there 
 is such a thing as hell-fire they are sufficiently 
 orthodox to escape it." 
 
 "Then after all," here broke in the Rector, 
 " you do defend the man who spoke so fiercely 
 last night?" 
 
 " I dont uphold his doctrine," I replied, "but 
 I sympathise somewhat with the man himself, for 
 here is one who has suffered, and suffered terribly, 
 
80 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 and for another, to take his own instance to whom 
 probably such depths of feeling were absolutely 
 unrealizable, to think to comfort him ' in the 
 thick and torrent of his misery,' by a glib quota- 
 tion, was, I think, something of a mistake. I 
 mean," I continued hastily, for I again saw the 
 Rector's brow contracting, " it is too soon to 
 judge of Red Tom's attitude, for if one should not 
 call any one happy till he is dead, as the old Greek 
 sage held, so one should not condemn any man's 
 attitude or opinion till one knows what ground he 
 has for assuming the one or holding the other. 
 Again, it is premature to assume that Red Tom's 
 convictions are settled, and for my part I shall 
 hope you may yet see him attending your services 
 in Church." 
 
 Mr. Pulleyne's face brightened for a moment, 
 then as the cloud descends once again answered 
 slowly. 
 
 " I thank you for your kind wish, and I trust 
 it may be verified, but what chance is there of it ? 
 for how can I approach him, after what he said 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 81 
 
 last night ? I cannot, really I cannot, be the first 
 to make overtures, for, putting the question of 
 any personal attack on myself out of court, there 
 is still left a genuine, really a genuine hatred, I 
 think — for all your sympathetic explanation on his 
 behalf — of all revealed religion. 
 
 " It may be pride, perhaps, but I should feel I 
 was deserting my standard if I were to argue 
 with him upon the reality or the unreality of the 
 Christian faith. 
 
 " A soldier who is ever temporizing with the 
 enemy is but a coward at heart, and never yet won 
 victories." 
 
 "Ah but," I replied, "I wouldn't go and see 
 him, I would leave him entirely alone, and eventu- 
 ally perhaps, when you have filled your church, 
 you may come across him on a side wind, and 
 then will be your opportunity. 
 
 " You see," I continued, — " if you'll permit me 
 to go on with my defence of him, as it were ; — the 
 modern tendency is towards the practical and 
 actual, and your warm-hearted, self-taught, but 
 
 G 
 
82 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 withal ignorant socialist thinks that science and 
 legislation combined may make a new Heaven and 
 a new Earth for him. Again, I doubt very much 
 whether the English people ever had much rever- 
 ence, if I may say so without giving offence, for 
 the priesthood, per se ; they have greatly admired 
 certain great ecclesiastics, and been devoted often 
 enough and very rightly too, to their parish clergy- 
 man, but they are of too independent and critical 
 a turn to accept what a man says unless they see 
 what a man does. After all, from the Reformation 
 onwards, Puritanism in the best sense has made 
 England what she is, and the old doctrine still 
 holds good that each man must ' dree his weird,' 
 and work out his own salvation for himself. 
 
 " I must apologise," I here had the grace to 
 say, " for inflicting this long tirade of mine upon 
 you, but I have had to live amongst the working 
 classes the last few years, and I think I know the 
 general tendency of their thoughts and feelings on 
 this subject. 
 
 " I have kept you quite long enough, however," 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 83 
 
 I said, as I rose to go, " and it is high time for me 
 to off." 
 
 "It was very good of you to call," Mr Pulleyne 
 responded, as he too rose and grasped my hand, 
 " and I hope you will often find time to look in on 
 me, and give me the benefit of your experience 
 amongst working men. They take life more 
 seriously in the North, than in the South, which 
 of course is a good point, but then again they 
 have a more rugged or stubborn strain of temper- 
 ament which renders it difficult to make an 
 impression upon them. I have a call or two to 
 pay," he added, as he took his hat from the peg, 
 " and will walk so far of the way with you." 
 
 As we paced slowly along in the direction of 
 the village talking as we went, we presently came 
 to the corner by the end of the pit heap, and 
 there on the little eminence of red slag stood 
 Temple Tommy, appealing to a small group 
 consisting of sundry of the older men, several 
 women, and an uneasy lad or two who had 
 evidently come to jeer, but having been overawed 
 
84 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 by the speakers earnestness knew neither to go nor 
 stay. He was pleading with them for their souls 
 as we passed, and I could note the tremor of his 
 voice vibrating to the emotion that possessed him 
 as a violin to the passion of its player ; his head 
 was bare, and from his trusting, child-like eyes, 
 shining like liquid sapphires, stole unobserved 
 tears. " Why should they ever harden their 
 hearts and stop their ears, and torment themselves 
 with daily cares, when underneath each one of 
 them ran the deep current of unchanging love 
 which, did they but trustingly commit themselves 
 thereto ; would bear them over all the rocks and 
 perils of life to their desired Haven. Though 
 invisible, it was yet nearer to us than breathing, 
 and closer than hands and feet." Then, with a 
 sudden change from the highest mysticism to the 
 plainest of prose, so surprising to one of higher 
 education, but so natural in a self-taught 
 theologian, the speaker turned from quotation to 
 explain to his audience, in their own and his 
 primitive phraseology, the doctrine of the Trinity. 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 85 
 
 He had seen, he said, that very morning a 
 shop-boy washing the window panes of the shop- 
 front with water from a "scooter," (squirt) and it 
 had been at once borne in upon him, as he stood 
 a moment to gaze, that here was the illustration 
 he had so often sought for of the working of the 
 "Three in One" and "One in Three." The 
 water was the cleansing power o' the Holy Ghost, 
 the "scooter" was the Lord Jesus, an' the boy — " 
 Here an exclamation almost of disgust from my 
 companion diverted my attention, and turning 
 quickly I caught an expression as of physical pain 
 on his face. " I suppose," he said, after a pause 
 of a moment or two, " that the man is really a 
 good Christian, and does good in his way, but to 
 reduce the great mysteries of the Church which 
 require the carefullest exegesis even at the hands 
 of the most erudite and highly-trained Christian 
 intelligences to such crude and uncouth metaphor 
 appears to me to be little short of blasphemy." 
 
 "What will you have?" I responded, "the 
 days of the ancient ' economy ' are over. 'Tis the 
 
86 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 era of democracy, and so long as the spirit be 
 reverent, one must be content to put up with an 
 external roughness." 
 
 " I fear," he said, with a sudden flash of 
 light into his own character, " I fear I am too 
 mediaeval: either that, or too premature perhaps, 
 for I feel strongly that the present state of doubt 
 and unrest, evil speaking and open blasphemy, 
 cannot endure, and the twentieth century may, as 
 I have often dreamed and prayed, open out with 
 an ampler horizon and a clearer faith." 
 
 "We can but hope so," I replied, "but even 
 in the present the out-look is not so dark as many 
 insist. There never was a time when people felt 
 so keenly for the sufferings of others, or displayed 
 so much charity both in thought and in act. 
 Grant that it is possibly the result of indifference, 
 or lack of faith, but for my own part I welcome 
 the effect when I think of the burnings, brutalities, 
 and blasphemies of the ages of Faith." 
 
 We had now come to the point where our 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 87 
 
 paths diverged, so without further conversation 
 we bade each other " good night," and proceeded 
 on our several ways. 
 
Chapter III. 
 
 IN WHICH THE HECKLER APPEARS LIKELY TO 
 LOSE HIS BET. 
 
 I found so much to do on returning to my 
 work again, both above and below ground, that I 
 saw but little of Mr. Pulleyne for the next few 
 weeks. From two or three indications, however, 
 I gathered that he was not making progress : that 
 the Methody on the contrary had so far al- 
 together eclipsed him in popular favour and 
 general esteem. 
 
 I was returning home from the office later 
 than usual one evening, and as I passed the 
 Chapel doors I noticed a crowd of people were 
 collected, and my ears caught an echo of the 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 89 
 
 weird and harrowing sounds that invariably ac- 
 company the tuning of a brass band. Staying my 
 steps for a moment I enquired what performance 
 was going to be held that night. " We're gannin 
 to hav a gran' concort an' ora-tory-o i' wor Chapel 
 the neet," was the ready response from a high- 
 waisted, red-cheeked ' wife ' standing near me, 
 " an' wor Willi's gannin ti play the sarpint. By ! 
 an' he can make a noise on her too ; ay, aa's 
 warn'd but he's a gran' player." 
 
 The Methody, thought I to myself as I 
 walked slowly onward, has certainly got a good 
 start, and as far as an immediate success is con- 
 cerned he has assuredly outstripped the Rector. 
 
 He's a clever fellow undoubtedly ; knows the 
 temperament of the people, and has the right 
 democratic twang. Novelty is the desire of the 
 day, and here in a pit village is Novelty with a 
 capital N. 
 
 Fancy "Israel in Egypt" in a small pit 
 chapel ! 'Tis small wonder if he fill his seats. 
 
 A few days after this again I chanced to over- 
 
90 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 hear a conversation down the pit which bore 
 another testimony to the progress Mr. Pearson 
 was making in the village ; which abundantly 
 showed moreover the instinct of the " good man of 
 business" so necessary to worldly success in the 
 present commercial age. 
 
 I happened to be squatting close into the 
 corner of a rock, waiting for a " shot " to be fired, 
 and I could not have avoided hearing, even if I 
 had wished to do so, the conversation of two men 
 chaffing a third, whom I eventually discovered by 
 his voice — as well as by what transpired in their 
 converse — to be Jim Nicholson, a rolleyman down 
 the pit, but above ground, and in his spare hours, 
 a painter to trade. 
 
 " Sae thoo's gan an' desarted the Chorch, an' 
 turned Methody ! " said one, and from his inton- 
 ation I felt sure he was bent on raillery. "An' 
 hoo she'll do then, I'm wunderin' ? Is she gannin' 
 ti close her doors same way as a Bank when folk 
 hes lost confidence i' the consarn, or does the 
 priest want a vote o' confidence, like the Prime 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 91 
 
 Minister i' Parleyment, noo that he's lost one ov 
 his most influentyal supporters ? By the ways," 
 continued the voice with a chuckle, " wes thoo 
 ivvor inside o' the Chorch ? Aa ken thoo's a 
 Chorchman, because thoo's elwis said sae, but wes 
 thoo ivvor inside o' the buildin', that's what aa 
 want ti be at." Another low chuckle sounded in 
 the darkness, and I knew the last speaker had 
 nudged his marrow and awakened his expectation 
 for a ripe display of wit. 
 
 There was silence for a moment or two, then 
 after a rasp of expectoration, another voice replied 
 gruffly from further away. " Ay, aa wes a Chorch- 
 man, tho' aa divvn't exactly remember noo ivvor 
 havin' been there lately ; aa mind aa wes there 
 when aa wes baptized as a babby." " But thoo 
 canna mind that," expostulated the first voice, 
 "for thoo canna have been mair nor above three 
 weeks old, an' yor eyes were liklies still closed 
 then, same as puppies is when they're born. Does 
 thoo mind being born blind? " continued the voice 
 suggestively. 
 
92 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 " Ho-way," was the reply, a trifle gruffer than 
 before, followed by a chunk of coal aimed blindly 
 through the murky atmosphere, " divvn't thoo try 
 ti play the comic ower me. Maa mither wes a 
 tarr'ble shy woman, sae dootless aa may hev been 
 born wi' the blinkers on, for aa've elwis been 
 notorious for the quality o' maa manners. But 
 what aa says aboot tornin' Methody's just this. 
 Aa gans where aa's weel treat. The Methody, he 
 comes alang, an' he speaks us civil, an' he gies us 
 a job, an' efter aa'd painted his chapel an' his 
 hoose for'm, aa says tiv him : ' Thoo'd like us ti 
 torn Methody, noo,' 'Aye,' says he, * aa wud, 
 an' I'd like that bairn o' yors that sings sae weel 
 ti cum ti Chapel also.' ' Weel,' say I, ' thoo's 
 treat us weel, sae aa'll torn Methody, tho' maa 
 fam'ly's elwis been pure bred Chorchmen up till 
 noo, an' the lad, he shall gan ti Chapel, an' sing 
 till he's black i' the face, an' he's the best singer 
 i' the districk, search here and there. Wey, aa'd 
 back him ti beat — ' " 
 
 Just at that moment a low rumble sounded 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 93 
 
 and in a moment leapt into a roar ; a crash of 
 falling coal shook the uneven floor, — a shower of 
 debris fell like light rain far and wide, whilst a 
 thick and choking smoke blindly crawled over- 
 head. 
 
 The " shot " had been fired, and Jim Nichol- 
 son's challenge was forgotten. 
 
 This was only one amongst several bits of 
 gossip that chance had put in my way, and as 
 pitmen always talk more openly down the pit than 
 anywhere else I had no doubt that this represented 
 an actual occurrence. 
 
 Shortly after this I met Mr. Pearson himself, 
 and the impression I took away with me after 
 our interview, abundantly confirmed the opinion 
 I had previously formed of his character. 
 
 There was to be a demonstration shortly in 
 connection with the Jubilee of one of the Miner's 
 Funds, and both he and I had been asked to take 
 part in it. 
 
 The Rector, on the other hand, I found, was 
 not invited to share in the proceedings, and I 
 
94 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 gathered from Mr. Pearson's veiled allusions that 
 he regarded the incident as in some sort of a 
 triumph for himself. 
 
 Our talk, which had at first been merely 
 concerned with the details of the demonstration, 
 became gradually more general, and it was evident 
 that Mr. Pearson was very well satisfied with the 
 progress he had already made, and inclined to rate 
 the ability of Mr. Pulleyne (against whom it was 
 easy to see he had a distinct prejudice) very low. 
 
 The rumour that the Rector and himself had 
 been at Oxford together was quite correct he said, 
 but their connection had not been a pleasant one, 
 he hinted indeed that he had not received very 
 generous treatment from him, and so, as it was 
 evidently a distasteful topic, I forebode from 
 further curiosity at the time, though I must con- 
 fess I took measures to gratify it later by mention- 
 ing the matter to the Rector, and extracting some 
 particulars from him which did not at all, I was 
 pleased to find, bear out Mr. Pearson's narration. 
 
 Mr. Pearson, as our talk progressed, pro- 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 95 
 
 claimed himself a "modern of the moderns," 
 stigmatizing the anglican ritual as reactionary, 
 and asceticism as the "cast clout" of medievalism, 
 totally unbecoming to the mood of to-day. He 
 was all for organization : for bringing the Churches 
 into closer touch with the people ; for democracy, 
 in short, in connection with all institutions 
 whether lay or clerical. He advocated disestab- 
 lishment and disendowment, he said, because with 
 its specious air of antiquity, its feudal endowments 
 and ordered hierachy, the Church of England 
 was to-day a clog to progress and a hindrance to 
 reform. 
 
 He was an ardent co-operator, moreover, 
 and when finally I took my leave of him I could 
 not but feel impressed by the energy and practical 
 directness of the man, though I confess I felt a 
 certain regret at his choice of a profession, for 
 the self-sacrificing view of life which one looks for 
 in a clergyman — no matter what denomination he 
 may be of — was in him vastly conspicuous by its 
 absence. I should mention, by the way, for it was 
 
96 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 of importance subsequently, that he lent me a 
 book that same evening bearing on one of the 
 many subjects touched upon in our conversation. 
 This book I still have, for I never had an 
 opportunity of returning it to him. 
 
Chapter IV. 
 
 EPISODE THE SECOND. 
 
 Within a day or two after the interview recorded 
 
 in the last chapter, I was unexpectedly summoned 
 
 home on account of the serious illness of my 
 
 father. He had been ailing for some time, and 
 
 at last, when it was too late, had allowed my 
 
 mother to send for the doctor. " Angina pectoris," 
 
 had been the report, and though he might linger 
 
 on some months longer, death was possible at 
 
 any moment. 
 
 Contrary to the physician's opinion, however, 
 
 my father shortly made a wonderful rally, and 
 
 actually persisted in coming down stairs again, so 
 
 H 
 
98 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 that I had even packed my portmanteau to return 
 Northward, when a sudden swoon on his part 
 revived our gloomiest anticipations. 
 
 He was carried upstairs unconscious, and died 
 within an hour. As one of his executors I was 
 busily employed for some considerable period 
 afterwards, and five months had elapsed before I 
 could again think of returning to my work in the 
 North. 
 
 All through this long period of care and 
 anxiety my thoughts frequently recurred to Mr. 
 Pulleyne. I wondered how he was progressing, 
 whether he was still as much in love with his work 
 as ever, or whether discouragement had continued 
 to blight his early hopes. 
 
 Just before I left I received a ragged, ill- 
 written epistle from the Heckler, from which I 
 gathered that matters had not gone at all well 
 with the Rector lately, and that physically his 
 health was much impaired. 
 
 The note, however, was so full of extra matter 
 about the pit, his " saplings," a recent reduction 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 99 
 
 of wages, and the probability of a strike, that 
 exactly what had brought matters to a head, and 
 how far the Rector was blameworthy was beyond 
 me to determine. 
 
 The first person I saw, however, on arriving 
 at the station was the Heckler himself, who was 
 apparently seeing a greyhound off, not come to 
 greet myself on my return. 
 
 I think I was mistaken on the point, though, 
 for I was not more than about twenty paces from 
 the station when I was suddenly accosted by 
 him from behind. 
 
 " I's come ti meet thoo," he cried, as he 
 grasped me by the hand, " ti gie thoo a bit o' 
 welcome back again, for thoo's almost a stranger 
 here noo, but I was bound ti see that the guard 
 was takin' proper care o' that greyhound pup, for 
 he's easy worth £50 ye ken. An' hoo's aal wi' 
 thoo ? " he enquired as he wrung my hand again. 
 
 Having duly replied and made the proper 
 enquiries in my turn, I asked for some news of 
 the Rector. 
 
100 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 " I was just coming ti that," he said, as he 
 drew me somewhat aside, his face assuming his 
 expression of mysterious responsibility, " an' it's 
 a bad business for him — ye ken whom I mean, the 
 priest," and he nodded vaguely in the direction 
 of the rectory. 
 
 " I divvn't mind lossin' my brass ower him, 
 an' that's clean gan noo any ways, but I do objeck 
 ti not hevin' had a run for my dollars — an' a 
 canny lad like him too." 
 
 "Thoo's been awa'" continued he in explana- 
 tion, " an' mevvies thoo disna ken, but thoo'll be 
 properly horrified — same as I was mysel — when 
 thoo hears that thor's a lass inside ov his hoos 
 wiv a bairn. I divvn't suppose that the priest has 
 ivvor had ony dealings wiv her ; in fac' his hoos- 
 keeper tell't my missus that he'd nivvor clapped 
 eyes on her before, but findin' her leanin' on his 
 gateway late one afternoon four or five days back, 
 lookin' tarr'ble faint-like an' strange seemin', he 
 takes her inti the hoos ti gie her a bit rest an' some 
 refreshment, when doon she flops on the floor, an' 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 101 
 
 sae at the finish there was the doctor sent for, an' 
 anither little stranger brought inti the world. It 
 seems from what's said that the poor lass was 
 come here on her ways seekin' the lad that done 
 her the harm, an' as she's better quality than what 
 the lads here 'ud be after, folks' tongues is waggin' 
 and scandalizin' the priest. She's a furrinor 
 seemingly, from her way o' talkin' — mair like 
 yorsel an' the priest than us hereaboot, an' hes 
 come a lang journey from the South somewhere. 
 Ay, an' aal the wives will be at it noo, I's warn'd, 
 clockin' awa' like a passel o' hens. But what stirs 
 me the most is to see the Methody gannin' prancin' 
 roond like a warhorse, his nostrils just liftin' wi 
 pride." 
 
 " It's unfortunate, perhaps," said I thought- 
 fully in reply to his narrative, " and very un- 
 pleasant, but in a week's time she will be able to 
 be moved, I suppose, and there'll be an end of the 
 talk, I hope, when she goes away, poor thing. It 
 seems to me disgraceful," I added, " that a man 
 cannot act like a Christian and a gentleman with- 
 
102 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 out all the senseless people of the place making a 
 scandal out of it." 
 
 " It's human natur," replied the Heckler, 
 sententiously, "just human natur — a tarr'ble 
 curious kind ov a cattle, but the little priest, he's 
 ower kind an' good for this world, an' not near 
 aad-fashioned enough, an' that's the truth. Wey, 
 if he'd been clivvor noo, he'd ha' just waved his 
 hand at the lass hangin' on the gate, an' shouted 
 oot, ' Hadawa my canny lass, hadawa ; if thoo 
 wants any assistance gan ti the Methody, who 
 lodges i' the big white hoos, an' he'll help thoo.' 
 If he'd done that noo, he'd hev trapped the 
 Methody nicely, I's warn'd, an' then mevvies," 
 continued he with a sigh, " I'd hev winned my 
 brass back after all." 
 
 This extremely practical suggestion fairly set 
 me smiling. "Well," I said, "it's too late now, 
 but I must go in and have a talk with the Rector, 
 and see what can be done." 
 
 Bidding the Heckler adieu for the present, I 
 set off for my lodgings, bethinking me that I had 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 103 
 
 better have something to eat, and rid myself of 
 travel stains before calling upon Mr. Pulleyne. 
 
 It was nearly dark as I approached my old 
 rooms, and I was just in the act of putting down 
 my bag in order to open the door, when I was 
 accosted from behind. " Good evening," a keen 
 voice said, and turning I recognised Mr. Pearson. 
 " Good evening," I replied, thinking he was look- 
 ing unusually belated. " Perhaps you will be 
 going along to the Rectory shortly," he said, "Mr. 
 Pulleyne's not been at all well since you've been 
 away apparently, though 'tis said he refuses to see 
 the Doctor or anyone else. I wonder what is 
 precisely the matter?" and he peered at me 
 meaningly. 
 
 " He's knocked himself to bits with overwork 
 and worry," I answered shortly, " he's a saint, or 
 next door to it, and that's what's the matter with 
 him." "A curable disease, though, a man of the 
 world might say," sneered my opposite, and a 
 very nasty and triumphant smile shewed in the 
 gleam of his eye, " and indeed, it is publicly 
 
104 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 reported that he has recently taken speedy means 
 of curing it." " Good-night," said I abruptly, as 
 I stepped inside and shut the door to with a slam, 
 for had I stayed without I feared I should have 
 had to strike him in another moment. 
 
 I sat myself down to supper, fuming with an 
 indignation which soon gave way to a great un- 
 easiness concerning the condition of my friend, 
 for so I had come to consider him in spite of the 
 slightness of our acquaintanceship, so much had 
 the charm of his personal goodness appealed to 
 me, and so greatly had the thought of his un- 
 merited isolation affected my imagination. 
 
 After washing, and changing my clothes, I sat 
 down to partake of some supper, wondering all 
 the while what I could say to Mr. Pulleyne, and 
 how I might best advise him in the somewhat 
 awkward circumstances of the case. 
 
 I had addressed a query or two to my landlady, 
 who was, as I was well aware, one of the greatest 
 gossips of the village, and she had at once over- 
 flowed with a pent up steam of general hearsay 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 105 
 
 and vulgar talk. "Everybody," she averred, "was 
 * scandalizing the poor young man;' not but what 
 she thought he was being unfairly treated, but he 
 wouldn't listen to no reason in the matter, and 
 him being unmarried, it wasn't in human nature 
 not to talk about the situation. One of the 
 Churchwardens had spoken to him about the 
 woman, and all he got for a reply was the question, 
 'whether he was a Christian man?' Even the 
 1 commoner sort ' had begun to revile him, it 
 seemed, and she couldn't make out what would be 
 the end of the matter." 
 
 It appeared that the Rector had been passing 
 through the village late one night, and had 
 endeavoured to separate a drunken pitman and 
 his wife — both well-known ne'er-do-wells and 
 drunkards — who were fighting out their differences 
 in the open air. 
 
 All he got for his zeal, apparently, was abuse 
 from both of them, and the woman had yelled 
 after him, as he sadly gave up his attempt at peace- 
 making. "Thoo'd better gan hame thysel, an' 
 
106 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 mak' that poor hussy o' thine an honest woman 
 afore thoo cooms setting up thy gob 'twixt a 
 wedded man an' his wife. For shame o' thysel! ' 
 All this of course furnished me with additional 
 food for reflection, and I sat thinking on all I knew 
 of the Rector and Mr. Pearson at great length. 
 I should say that I had extracted at one time and 
 another some details of Mr. Pearson's career at 
 Oxford which appeared to have been somewhat 
 summarily terminated at the end of his 3rd year. 
 There had been a woman in the case, and I 
 gathered that he had been sent down, though it 
 appeared he had married her afterwards, (at any 
 rate the Rector, determined to put the best aspect 
 on the affair he could, believed he had done so) 
 and taken to teaching in the first instance for his 
 livelihood. What happened to her afterwards ; 
 whether she had died, or, the union proving 
 unhappy, they had separated, the Rector did not 
 know, nor indeed did he vouchsafe more than the 
 barest information to me, for he was evidently 
 very desirous that nothing he might let fall should 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 107 
 
 damage the Methody, but I had put two and 
 two together, as the saying is, and some vague 
 remarks of Mr. Pearsons himself had corroborated 
 the result I had arrived at. 
 
 It was likely then in the present unfortunate 
 condition of affairs that Mr. Pearson would make 
 the utmost use of his opportunity. I had even 
 gathered that Mr. Pearson and the Rector, though 
 of different Colleges, had had rooms in the same 
 set of lodgings at Oxford, and that the latter had 
 been in some way connected, as a witness 
 presumably, in the charge against him. This was 
 only surmise on my part, however, but if true, it 
 was clear that the Methody would be likely to 
 make the utmost use possible of the present 
 scandal and make matters as disagreeable as 
 possible for Mr. Pulleyne. By stealthy hints and 
 dexterous whispering he might be able to do a 
 great deal of mischief: eventually perhaps he might 
 even force him to exchange his living. The 
 Rector, as I knew full well, was far too good a 
 Christian to retaliate, witness his having extorted 
 
108 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 a promise from myself of secrecy on what little 
 information he had accorded me. 
 
 I sat so long reflecting on all this that I had 
 quite forgotten my intended visit to the Rectory ; 
 suddenly, however, a hurried stumbling sounded 
 on the stairs, and I felt instinctively it must be 
 the Heckler come round to enquire what I had 
 learnt from the Rector, and what was my view of 
 the general situation. 
 
 He knocked, but without waiting for a reply, 
 burst hastily into the room. " Ho-way," he cried, 
 as he saw me still sitting over the supper table, 
 " ho-way wi' thoo, an' gan an' see him, for he's 
 tarr'ble bad the neet, warse nor I've seen him 
 yet. I've constitooted mysel sort ov overman tiv 
 him lately, but I've never seen him sae bad as he 
 is the neet. He keeps the windie ov his libiarie 
 open, ye ken, ov an evenin' sae that I've had a 
 good look at him frae the ootside noo an' again 
 to see hoo he's keepin up. But the neet he 
 was warse than ever before ; he cudn't bide still 
 an instant ; noo he wud try to caalm hissel wiv a 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 109 
 
 bit o' readin', but twes no use — doon the book 
 wud drop on the floor, an' there he wud leave it 
 lyin' ; then he wud start up an' waalk aboot again, 
 then sudden like stay dead still i' the middle o' 
 the room as tho' he'd faallen intiv a sort of dwam, 
 but stannin' up aal the while like a statty, an' at 
 the finish he started taalkin' tiv hissel — such 
 strange-like taalk too, as wes quite uncanny. 
 
 " At one time it wes that he wes a puir, weak, 
 hirplin' creature, no bettor than weeds an' sic-like 
 uselessness ; at anither he said 'at it wes sair, sair 
 on him — he hevin' done his vary utmost, an' yet 
 accomplish't nowt ; an', lad, the tone o't wes 
 fearfu' sad, right frae the heart ov him," and here 
 the firm curve of the narrator's mouth trembling 
 into softness, he turned towards the window for a 
 moment. 
 
 Before I could say anything — with a quick 
 impatient shake of his head he had turned towards 
 me again, and continued : " Ay, it wes sair wark 
 ti hev ti stand an' listen, an' be able ti do nowt ; 
 
110 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 it wes jist like the time when the wife an' I lost 
 wor first born bairn — for then the poor wife lay 
 tossin' an' turnin', an' turnin' an' tossin' the neet 
 through, noo grettin' tiv hersel, noo spreadin' her 
 arms aboot searchfully, then moanin' " Gaen, 
 gaen," an' whiles, " deid, deid." I cud do nowt i' the 
 way o' comfort nowther time, but had just to bide 
 quiet, sae there I stayed watchin' him, an' watchin' 
 him, for I feared he might do hissel a mischief at 
 the finish. Weel, at the last he sits hissel doon 
 a bit quieter like, an' when he gets up again he 
 lights a candle, an' heavy-footed gans ti his writin' 
 desk an' sits hissel doon quiet like. But I hev a 
 grave doot," said the Heckler, with a shake of 
 his head, " that anither evenin' ov it alone will 
 finish him off aaltegithor." 
 
 I stood reflecting. Some lines of Browning 
 were haunting me. I could not put memory's 
 finger upon the passage for a moment or two ; then 
 I recollected, and stepping to the bookshelf took 
 down the volume which curiously enough opened 
 to my hand at the very passage. 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. Ill 
 
 " The trial test 
 Appointed to all flesh at some one stage 
 Of soul's achievement — when the strong man doubts 
 His strength, the good man whether goodness be, 
 The artist in the dark seeks, fails to find 
 Vocation, and the Saint forsakes his shrine." 
 
 " Come then," said I, putting the volume in 
 my pocket, " we must be going," and so saying 
 I led the way downstairs, " I wunner," said the 
 Heckler thoughtfully as soon as we were out in 
 the open air, " whether it wud be ov any use my 
 givin' him one o' my aad bitch's pups noo. She's 
 just had a gran' litter o' pups, has the aad lady, 
 an' there's one o' them that for size an' quality is 
 a proper marvel, — just parfection, nae mair, an' 
 nae less. Mevvies it wud divert him a bit ti hev 
 the pup ti play wi', an' work on wi', an' distract 
 him frae thinkin' ower much ov hissel. Wey, it'll 
 mevvies turn oot gud enough ti win the Waterloo 
 Cup in anither three years. What does thoo 
 think ?" he enquired of me tentatively. 
 
 Even in that moment of anxiety I found it 
 difficult to control a smile, as I replied : " I'm 
 afraid it wouldn't be of much avail just at the 
 
112 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 present time." " Mevvies no," he replied slowly, 
 " I divvn't believe he's ower much ta'en up wi' 
 dogs nowther, for I divvn't think he's ivvor got so 
 much as a fox terrier pup aboot the place, an' yet 
 it's a pity too, for I'll lay odds there's not anither 
 pup i' the whole ov England that can marrow 
 that yen o' mine." 
 
 " By the way," I said as we walked slowly 
 onward, " what's happening to that poor woman ? 
 Is she still going to stay on at the Rectory ? " 
 "Ay, it would seem sae," replied my companion, 
 "for my. missus was up last night hevin' her 
 tea wi' the hooskeeper — she's tarr'ble thick wiv 
 her, ye ken, an' wes axin' about the furrinor 
 woman, an' the bairn, an' all, an' it appears she'll 
 not be gannin' for a bit. It seems frae what she's 
 let oot when delirious, an' what she's said ti' the 
 hooskeeper, that she's searchin' for her man, an' 
 she believes he's somewhere about here i' the 
 North. His name's Edward Fairchild, seemingly, 
 an' he's a schoolmaster, or Methody, or such-like, 
 but there's no one about here that hes a name like 
 that as I ken ov." 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 113 
 
 "Edward Fairchild ? " I echoed, "Edward 
 Fairchild, why I know that name somehow. A 
 schoolmaster ? Methody ? why, yes, stay a 
 minute, no," — for my brain was not yet done 
 with wonderment — "yes, yes, it must be." For 
 all at once, and in a glare of light as it were, 
 memory waved before my eyes the open fly-leaf of 
 that book about * Co-operation' which the Methody 
 had lent me. The whole scene, totally obscured 
 in my mind for the time, was now lit with light as 
 though on a theatre's stage, and I even remembered 
 the exact words which had passed between us. 
 
 " I hope," I had said, "that you have written 
 your name in it, for a book collector is notoriously 
 careless of another's rights, and the absence of 
 your name might eventually prevail over a bad 
 memory." 
 
 " Oh, yes," he replied carelessly, " my name's 
 in all my books." I had my finger upon the fly- 
 leaf at the moment, and I looked upon the page, 
 " Edward Fairchild," was all I saw in the way of 
 
 an inscription. I mentioned the matter, and he, 
 
 I 
 
114 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 slightly confused, had quickly answered, " Oh, 
 that was my name formerly, but I changed it to 
 Pearson, my mother's name, for family reasons." 
 " Mun be what ? " enquired the Heckler gazing 
 at me half compassionately, as I stood still in the 
 endeavour to piece the puzzle together in my 
 mind. Carried away by the strange coincidence 
 of name and profession, I momentarily forgot all 
 caution, and jumping to an immediate conclusion, 
 replied, " Why, the same as our Methody himself! 
 But look here," I added, peremptorily checking 
 exultation's flight, " not a word of this at present. - 
 I may be mistaken after all. Several points must 
 be cleared up first, and I think the best plan will 
 be for me to see the housekeeper, and persuade 
 her to let me have an interview with the poor 
 woman herself. So I'll just leave you here for the 
 present," I continued abruptly, as I opened the 
 Rectory gate, " and I hope it maybe good news 
 I'll have to report when I return." So saying I 
 turned and walked hastily up to the back door, 
 leaving the Heckler scratching his head and 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 115 
 
 muttering to himself: " By ! but this beats me oot 
 an' oot. Wow ! but she's a puzzlor." 
 
 Having knocked at the back door I was 
 admitted by the housekeeper, who shook her head 
 woefully as I enquired after the Rector's health. 
 " He's just a picter of what he shudn't ought to 
 look like," she replied sadly, as she fumbled for 
 the corner of her apron, her lip dipping tearfully. 
 " Sakes alive, but I wish he'd never come to these 
 cruel, outlandish parts o' the world!" "Look 
 here," I said suddenly, for I felt there was no use 
 in beating about the bush, " I have an idea I can 
 be of some use to your master, but first of all I 
 must see the young woman upstairs for five 
 minutes." 
 
 "You'll not be for doing her any harm?" she 
 said dubiously, eyeing me suspiciously over the 
 corner of her apron, " for though she's been the 
 cause of ill being spoke about the master, she's 
 none so bad herself, poor thing, and the baby's a 
 blue-eyed jool, that he is." " No, I certainly intend 
 her no harm," I replied, " in fact, I think I may 
 
116 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 possibly be of help to her, but in the first instance, 
 I am hopeful of being of some real use to 
 Mr. Pulleyne." "Well," said she slowly, "111 go 
 and tell her a gentleman would like to speak with 
 her, and if she's agreeable you can go upstairs, for 
 she's up and about, and putting on flesh every day 
 now. But what is it you will have got to say to 
 her ? " queried the housekeeper, starting to go, but 
 halting again as she remembered her curiosity. 
 " That's too long a story now," I answered, " and 
 Time's precious." 
 
 After a few minutes I was admitted to the 
 room upstairs, and found a pale-faced, wistful- 
 looking woman, who was evidently awaiting my 
 arrival with some nervousness. After apologising 
 for my intrusion, I plunged boldly into the object 
 of my visit, and this was briefly what I elicited. 
 
 After sundry questions asked and answered, it 
 became clear that Mr. Pearson was really the man 
 she was in search of. I learnt, somewhat to my 
 surprise, for I had scarcely believed that part of 
 Mr. Pulleyne's information, that she had been 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 117 
 
 actually married to him, shortly after his expulsion 
 from Oxford, at a registrar's office, but that he had 
 always regarded her as a clog upon himself, as 
 having in effect, spoilt his career, and had kept the 
 marriage as secret as possible. 
 
 Finally, they had had words, and the quarrel 
 had terminated in his suddenly deserting her. 
 
 She thought she had been querulous perhaps, 
 for after her boy had been born she had never 
 regained her strength, but it was cruel to leave her 
 as he did. Money she had from time to time 
 received anonymously through letters directed to 
 her mother's house at Oxford, whither she had 
 returned after his desertion of her. 
 
 Her mother, however, had not been kind, had 
 constantly urged her to set out after her runaway 
 husband, and finally, when the beginnings of 
 another life stirred within her, she had followed up 
 what clues she could obtain, set out upon her 
 travels, and was stricken down just as her last 
 money had run out. 
 
 She knew that her husband had thought of 
 
118 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 becoming a minister in the Methodist connection, 
 if it was possible, but was not aware whether he 
 had succeeded. All she had gleaned in the way of 
 information was that he was living somewhere in 
 the remote north-east of Northumberland, either 
 teaching or engaged in some ministerial work or 
 other. This was all so circumstantial that there 
 could no longer be any doubt, I thought, as she 
 concluded her story, and, wiping the tears from 
 her sad, care-worn eyes, asked me if I could give 
 her any news of her husband, and "oh, did I think 
 he would be glad to see her, and would he be kind 
 to her again ? " 
 
 I passed hastily over her interrogatory, for I 
 feared I could scarcely answer in the affirmative, 
 but I could safely assure her that I thought I 
 knew where her husband was to be found, and 
 that I would do my best to bring him to her, 
 though first I must have some talk with the Rector 
 on the subject. 
 
 Therewith I slipped away, and descended 
 to the library below, where I found Mr. 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 119 
 
 Pulleyne seated at his desk, apparently employed 
 in writing. 
 
 As I approached him I saw that the paper in 
 front of him was quite blank, and that his com- 
 plexion, save for a sallow tint, might well have 
 matched it in colour, but with the joy of my 
 discovery hot within me I recked little of that 
 now, and I barely restrained myself in time from 
 giving him a hearty smack on the back. 
 
 " Look here," I cried impetuously, after our 
 first greetings were over, " I've made a discovery. 
 That poor girl upstairs whom you have been so 
 good to, is none other than the young Oxford 
 woman on whose account Mr. Pearson was sent 
 down, as you told me yourself. By the way, his 
 name is Edward Fairchild, not Pearson, though 
 you left me to find that out for myself. It's a rare 
 find," I cried enthusiastically, " ain't it ? I never 
 knew a man better hoist with his own petard." 
 
 " My friend," he answered slowly, as stretch- 
 ing out his thin hand, he turned his ringed, lack- 
 lustre eyes upon me, " I thought it must be her, 
 
120 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 yet I did not like to press her for her story, nor 
 indeed did I want it to be known." " Not want it 
 known," cried I in astonishment, "and why not? 
 After all he did marry her, so he needn't fear 
 dismissal from his office. It will be a fine lesson 
 for him, and can't help but teach him humility, 
 and altogether do him a world of good." " But 
 you forget the poor woman," he admonished me 
 gently, " I fear he scarcely regards her with any 
 great affection. That is the terrible result of such 
 a sin as his, that it kills love. Now, if she 
 becomes the innocent means of his reputation 
 being injured, and himself hindered perhaps in his 
 profession and career, any affection he may still 
 possess for her will probably die down and come 
 up again as hate. 
 
 " On the other hand, if we wait till she has 
 grown quite strong and has regained her looks, 
 then quietly and secretly bring them together to a 
 conference, I believe all may yet be arranged and 
 turn out for the best. She can go South again, 
 and he quietly follow ; their separation and subse- 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 121 
 
 quent reconciliation can easily be accounted for 
 and explained away, and when they return 
 together here, no one save yourself and myself 
 need know anything against them." 
 
 " Oh," cried I, distressed to think that the 
 opportunity of revenge was to be let slip thus, 
 " but think of the good a public exposure would 
 do him. I'm not sure that he wouldn't even think 
 from your acting in that manner that you were 
 somewhat afraid of him. 
 
 " Calamity's good for that type of man ; it 
 would be the making of him, just think," — I was 
 continuing hotly, when a sudden disturbance 
 sounded at the window, and amidst a rattle of 
 window blinds, a burly form was seen to thrust 
 itself through the open sash. In another moment 
 the Heckler stumbled headlong into the room, 
 evidently labouring under a great excitement. 
 " Hurroo for thoo," he cried joyously, " hurroo for 
 Maister John, he's gotten him ; he's fixed up that 
 Methody chap properly ! I've heard the whole 
 
122 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 thing through, an' I ken aal aboot it, never fear 
 for that." 
 
 He advanced straight towards me, as he 
 spoke, laid his left hand encouragingly upon my 
 shoulder and with his right searched for my hand, 
 which, having found, he wrung pitilessly, exclaim- 
 ing joyfully the while, " Ay, thoo's cotched that 
 beggor ov a Methody fine, by gox, an' noo we'll 
 just warm him ; ay, we'll pay him for his impit- 
 tance. Just thoo leave him to me, sor," he cried, 
 turning to the Rector, whose hand, notwithstand- 
 ing a little preliminary adroitness, he soon 
 possessed himself of, and gave a hearty shake too, 
 " nivvor fear," he said, as Mr. Pulleyne faintly 
 endeavoured to relieve himself, and commenced to 
 plead again on the Methody's behalf, " nivvor 
 fear, I'll skin him for thoo." 
 
 " But, my friend," commenced the Rector, in 
 that low appealing voice of his, " for you are my 
 friend, as I am well aware, and I thank you for 
 the interest you have shown on my behalf, suppose 
 now, you yourself had done something you were 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 123 
 
 ashamed of in the past," — " But I hevn't," 
 retorted the Heckler, quickly, " I hevn't, I'll stand 
 by it aal, thick and thin, — ivvor since I got marrit 
 on the aad missus I've thought o' no one else." 
 
 " But suppose you had done something of 
 which you were ashamed," insisted Mr. Pulleyne, 
 " you must know of others, for example, who have 
 spoilt their lives in some manner, and are you not 
 sorry for them ? would you not help them if you 
 could ? Is it not better to set a broken leg than 
 to cut it off? to save a life rather than see it 
 drown ? " 
 
 The Heckler began to look uncomfortable, he 
 shifted his weight to one foot, and scraped the 
 back of his calf with the other. 
 
 " Again, consider the evil effect it might have 
 upon others," continued the Rector. " Suppose 
 it were known that he had behaved very badly to 
 the girl upstairs before he made her his lawful 
 wife, do you not think that it would have a bad 
 effect upon his congregation ? upon those who 
 
124 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 have been used to respect him, and to regard him 
 as an example of a godly life ? " 
 
 " Mevvies," replied the Heckler, showing 
 signs of recovery at the prospect of an argument, 
 " mevvies, but what then ? Wey, I'll tell thoo ; 
 the story '11 get oot, thae sort o' things always does, 
 an' then where will thoo be wi' yor example ov a 
 godly life ? Wey, thoo' '11 just be done, it'll be 
 warse nor ivvor for hevin' been kep' secret an' not 
 let gan into the newspapers an' things, for that's 
 what terrifies the most o' folks, an' keeps em' 
 straight, newspapers, publicity, an' the pollis. 
 
 " No, no, let it alone ; leave him ti the 
 Heckler ti fettle, an' I'se warn'd but I'll hammer 
 him properly." 
 
 The Rector looked appealing at my com- 
 panion, who forthwith by a folding of the arms, 
 and a tilting of the head backward, assumed a 
 position indicating the most truculent obstinacy. 
 
 No one spoke for some seconds, then the 
 Rector broke the silence, as, leaning forward and 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 125 
 
 touching the Heckler gently on the arm, he made 
 a last appeal. 
 
 " My friend, I am not strong at present, and 
 I cannot contend with you in argument," — here I 
 thought I perceived the Heckler's rigidity to relax 
 somewhat — " but I would be infinitely obliged if 
 you would keep silence on the matter for at least 
 twenty-four hours. In the meantime I will write 
 Mr. Pearson a note, and will be much obliged if 
 you will kindly leave it at his lodgings in passing. 
 
 " Weel," replied the Heckler slowly, " I divvn't 
 mind haudin' it in for twenty-four hours, if that's 
 aal, an' I'll leave the "billy-doo" fast enough if 
 thoo'll sit doon an' write it straight away, for I 
 canna bide to think o' that chep ower there 
 thinkin' he's got the bettor o' the lot ov us, an' aal 
 the time I have him i' the hollow o' ma hand." 
 
 " Thank you," said the Rector simply, and 
 forthwith, dexterously escaping a second visitation 
 of hand-shaking, sat himself down to write the 
 note. He sealed it, and handed it quietly to the 
 Heckler, who took it gravely, acknowledging the 
 
126 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 receipt with a salute, then with an anxious glance 
 at me which plainly said, " Ho-way outside, an' 
 talk this job ower wi' me," he backed out of the 
 room. 
 
 I did not remain long, for I could see that Mr. 
 Pulleyne was worn out by our interview, and that 
 rest was of supreme importance to him, and more- 
 over I was now longing for some conversation 
 with the Heckler, so after a few words ex- 
 pressive of my sympathy and admiration I said 
 "good-night," and hastened after him. "Any- 
 way," thought I to myself, as I walked swiftly 
 down the drive, " the Rector must benefit from 
 the discovery, for something must out, and what- 
 ever else results his reputation will be enhanced 
 and the other's diminished. He'll soon pick up 
 now ; no doubt of it ; — even a saint must feel relief 
 when an enemy's malice misses fire. By jove, 
 I've forgotten to leave the Browning ! After all, 
 perhaps, I don't know that I could have pre- 
 sumed — " 
 
 " Halloa ! " I cried, suddenly startled from my 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 127 
 
 reflections, as in the gathering darkness I found I 
 had almost trodden upon the Heckler, who was 
 " squatting on his hunkers " with his back against 
 the trunk of a felled tree, endeavouring apparently 
 to write a note with a quarter-inch stump of 
 lead pencil. 
 
 " Look here," said I, " how was it you knew 
 all about the matter ? I suppose you were listen- 
 ing at the window all the time, eh ? " Ay," he 
 replied, unabashed, diligently moistening an 
 inefficient point of pencil. " I wes that, an' I'll 
 tell thoo hoo it wes noo. I thought I'd watch 
 ower the priest like a deputy while thoo wes awa, 
 sae I've squatted mysel two or three times before 
 now down on my hunkers below that same windie 
 I cam' in thro' at the finish, an' there I stayed 
 the night, right thro' yor discovery an' aal, till I 
 had the hang o' the whole business. Yor ower 
 young, thoo sees, for a job o' this calibry, an' I 
 wes dootful he would torn thoo roon' his fingers 
 just as he liked." 
 
 " Well," I retorted, " and what's he done 
 
128 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 with you ? It didn't take long to make you ' sign 
 the pledge.'" 
 
 " Canny, lad, canny noo, bide a wee," replied 
 the Heckler, accompanying his words with that 
 quaint contortion of his left eye-lid that did him 
 service for a grin, " mevvies I give in tiv him on 
 the matter ov haudin' my tongue for fower-an- 
 twenty hours, but I didn't say nowt aboot not 
 writin' a " billy-doo" as weel's himsel. No fear, lad, 
 thoo doesn't catch the Heckler wiv a bit salt on 
 the tail ; he divvn't run straight for the gate like 
 puss* on a dark night." " What is it you're writ- 
 ing ? ' I asked curiously, peering down upon a 
 dirty half sheet of paper evidently torn off an 
 ancient letter of his own. " I's just preparin' ov 
 him for the surprise like, an' sae I've just wrote 
 down a quotation frae a tale Geordie Smith, that 
 lang-nebbed deevil, ye ken, him that wes across in 
 Ameriky a while back — wes tellin' tiv us the other 
 
 *Puss, a hare, always runs for a gate when startled at night in a 
 field; being white it probably attracts her attention. "The Heckler," 
 being an old poacher (vide " Hoo 'twes " in "The Mark o' the Deil") 
 was well aware of the fact. 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 129 
 
 night aboot a sartin place oot west where the 
 priests wes aal on 'em a bad lot. Some man or 
 anither — an' he mun hev been a proper comic that 
 feller — just sent the lot of 'em a "billy-doo" wi' 
 but these words written i' th' inside, " Aal is dis- 
 cuvvor'd — fly ! " an', by gox, the next Sunday as 
 ivvor wes there wesn't a single priest ti be found i' 
 the whole place, nowther High nor Low, nor tall 
 nor short, nor Roman nor Methody, nor nowt ava 
 i' the black coat line, an' I's warn'd but the 
 Heckler will hev the Methody oot o' this i-dentical 
 village before nex' Sunday the same fashion." 
 Here handing me up the scrap of paper he winked 
 at me once again with the slyest gravity, and 
 began to whistle softly. 
 
 I opened the paper carefully, and therein 
 found the following misspelt, enigmatic message, 
 " Aal is discuvvor'd — fly ! Thoo'd best gan hyem 
 an' tak thy wife an' bairn. Signed — Anti-hum- 
 bug. Hooray ! — 
 
 " That'll do the trick for him, eh ? " chuckled 
 my companion, intently noting the expression of 
 my face, while 1 read the " billy-doo." K 
 
130 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST 
 
 " It'll make him feel uncomfortable, anyway," 
 I replied, smiling, as I handed him back his 
 paper. " Ho-way then," cried he, as he com- 
 menced to stride along the drive, " an' we'll drop 
 these two valentines on him as we pass by his 
 hoos, an' if these divvn't shift him, wey, eithor 
 I's not the Heckler, or there's suthin wrang 
 somewhere or anuther." 
 
 ''By the way," I said, "I thought Mr. 
 Pulleyne was looking a trifle more cheerful, in 
 spite of his tiring interview with ourselves, when 
 we left him to-night, and much better surely than 
 when you saw him last night to judge from your 
 description." 
 
 "Ay, he's picked up hissel wunnerfu'," 
 assented my companion, " well-plucked folks is 
 just the same as well-plucked dogs, yence past 
 the crissis, they're aal right, an' put on flesh wun- 
 nerful. You an' me noo, we wes a sort ov a tonic 
 tiv him the night, but I b'lieve that if we hedn't 
 dropped in on him sudden-like, an' persisted on 
 the right thing bein' done — wey, I axually b'lieve 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 131 
 
 he'd hev left the Methody ti gan on as before, an' 
 tread on him the same's ivvor. By ! what a 
 religion the priest's got, hesn't he noo ? He's 
 like the martyr chap i' the colored glass window i' 
 the chorch wiv a sort ov a yallow bonnet on his 
 heid an' the bonniest o' smiles on's face." 
 
 " Yes," I replied, "he's a saint." 
 
 My companion left the two notes at the 
 Methody's lodging with the most impressive 
 injunctions to the servant girl that she should put 
 them into Mr. Pearson's hands at once. 
 
 " If you do shift the Methody, by the way," I 
 said, as we walked on, "you win your bet after 
 all." 
 
 The Heckler stood stock still for a moment, 
 then, " Sink me," he cried vociferously, " but sae 
 I do ! Hooray ! Gie us yor hand," he demanded 
 swiftly, and, seizing it forthwith, conveyed his 
 thanks in his usual unmistakable manner. 
 
 " But look thoo here noo," he continued 
 more calmly, "look thoo here. I didn't gan ti 
 shift him ti win my bet, but just because it wes 
 
132 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 right an' proper, an' the fair thing ti do by him, 
 when he's behaved hissel sae shabbily by the 
 priest that's worth a baker's dozen ov us aal rolled 
 inti one. Thoo'll bear witness ti that noo, if the 
 priest hear tell owt about it ? he enquired anxiously. 
 
 " Yes," replied I, " I can certainly do that," 
 and therewith I said "good-night," and went 
 straight to my bed, for I was tired. 
 
 I slept so long and soundly that it was past 
 ten o'clock before I descended to my sitting-room. 
 As I came in through the door the first thing that 
 caught my eye was a crumpled note placed con- 
 spicuously on the top of my loaf of bread, and at 
 once the memory of the previous night came 
 flooding through my sluggish brain. I opened it, 
 and read in a glance the following telegraphic 
 form of sentence. " Good morning, Sir, Hooray ! 
 I've shifted him. He's gan, wife an' bairn an' 
 aal." 
 
 " I'm glad he's gone," I thought, as I sat 
 down to breakfast smiling over the Heckler's 
 tumultuous self-satisfaction, "and yet I'm sorry 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 133 
 
 for him too, in a way, for worldly success is all in 
 all to a man of that stamp, and what he will find 
 to do now I really can't imagine, and I fear that 
 poor little wife of his may have to suffer for his 
 faults." 
 
 After breakfast I went round to the Colliery 
 Office, and was then at once occupied with 
 business till late in the afternoon. On coming 
 out I encountered Red Tom, and after an 
 exchange of "good-evenings," was passing on, 
 when a sudden thought struck me, so I turned 
 and enquired of him, " Well, and what do you 
 think of the disappearance of the Methody, for I 
 suppose you know he has bolted ?" " Ay, ay, aa 
 ken that," replied he gruffly, "and aa cannot say 
 as how aa's owermuch surprised at it. Folks hes 
 to get their livin' as best they can, aa suppose, an' 
 if they hevn't got any intellecks, wey, the black- 
 coat business gies 'em bread an' butter easier 
 than most trades, but as for the gob they sets 
 up aboot bein' se much bettor than the rest 
 o' the world, wey, its aal doon-right foolishness, 
 
134 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 an', what's warse, it's lies — an' here's an instance 
 to hand." 
 
 " Well, the priest at any rate has shown him- 
 self superior to the general run of people," I 
 replied, " for there are not many men in the 
 world, black-coated or otherwise, who would spare 
 a vindictive enemy when chance has put him into 
 their hands." 
 
 Red Tom looked at me suspiciously from 
 under his rugged brows, then answered slowly. 
 
 " Ay, aa heard the Heckler gobbin on aboot 
 that an' aal, but aa ken he's his money on the 
 priest, se natterally he cracks him up, but thoo, 
 noo, mevvies thoo kens the right way o't, an' 
 what aa wud like ti be at is this. Did the priest 
 ken for sartin when he took the woman intiv his 
 hoos that she wes the Methody's wife, an' did he 
 still stick in, an' nivvor let oot anythin' that might 
 damage the Methody's trade ? Mevvies the priest 
 didna ken that folks were scandalizin' him outside 
 aal the while ? " 
 
 " I can truthfully say " yes ' to both en- 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 135 
 
 quiries," I replied, "he knew if not at the moment 
 he let her in, at any rate within a day or two, that 
 she was the same woman he had seen Mr. Pearson 
 with in Oxford, formerly his mistress — afterwards 
 his wife, and he told me himself how much pain, 
 nay, almost torture, he had undergone because of 
 the false and malicious reports that were spread 
 about concerning him." 
 
 "Then how does thoo account for it ? returned 
 my companion with a near approach to heat, 
 determined not to be foiled in his sceptical 
 enquiries. 
 
 " Ordinarily speaking," I said slowly, looking 
 him full in the face, " I should, like yourself, seek 
 for some explanation or motive in a case of such 
 quixotic self-sacrifice as this, but as I have the 
 privilege of knowing Mr. Pulleyne slightly, that is 
 not necessary here, for in a word he is that rarest 
 of men in this modern world — a Christian gentle- 
 man. Here, strange as you may think it, you 
 have a man who actually believes, and has carried 
 
136 THE, WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 into week-day life the tenets so many of us idly 
 repeat on Sunday." 
 
 I turned, as I finished speaking, for I was 
 determined not to be drawn into an argument, 
 and left Red Tom ruminating, and even impressed 
 I was pleased to think, by the picture I had tried 
 to draw. 
 
Chapter V. 
 
 LAST SCENE OF ALL. 
 
 The magnanimity of the Rector as contrasted 
 with the unscrupulous self-seeking of the Methody 
 was at once the general topic of conversation in 
 the village, now that the real state of the case was 
 known, so that it was a real pleasure to me every 
 evening to drop in at the Rectory and congratulate 
 Mr. Pulleyne upon some fresh token or other of 
 the esteem in which he was increasingly held. 
 
 His church on a Sunday evening, from being 
 nearly empty, became almost crowded, and it was 
 very natural under the circumstances that the 
 colour should return to his cheek and the light to 
 his eye. 
 
138 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 His progress, however, to physical recovery 
 was but slow, for what he had gone through had 
 overtaxed his strength, but he was perfectly 
 happy, and when, shortly after the disappearance 
 of Mr. Pearson I was offered a good appointment 
 in the South of England, I did not feel in accept- 
 ing it that there was any longer any need, so far 
 as the Rector was concerned, of either myself or 
 the Heckler to watch over him as we tried to do 
 in the past. 
 
 It was hard, however, to say "Good-bye;' 
 hard also to part with my old confidant, the 
 Heckler, but I was resolved, as I told them both, 
 to revisit annually the scenes of my apprentice- 
 ship in the season of my holidays. 
 
 The Heckler insisted on seeing me off at 
 the station, and as we walked up and down the 
 platform, waiting for the train, he beguiled the 
 interval with confidential talk. 
 
 " Red Tom's properly stagnated at the priest's 
 behaviour to the Methody," he began, " not that 
 he holds wi' forgivin' a chap that's gone wrang, 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 139 
 
 for he says his motty is, punish a chap that's done 
 the wrang thing, an' he winna do it again, an' 
 that's the way ti cure wickedness, an' cruelty, an' 
 the seven deadly sins an' aal. If a chap gans doon 
 the pit wiv a lucifer in 's pocket, or carries a naked 
 light i' the fiery parts, or ' shuts fast,' wey, gie him 
 the sack for't, says he, straight oot, an' a skelp i' 
 the lug foreby that. But still, he says, it wes a 
 fine action on the priest's part, an' I b'lieve he hes 
 got to hev a bit ov a respect for him, though its 
 tarr'ble against his will, an' bang opposite tiv aal 
 his principles. 
 
 " In fact, there's not a man i' the village noo," 
 he concluded enthusiastically, "but says that 
 the priest's a gran' fellow, an', by the way," he 
 added in a lower tone, " I'm thinkin' I'll hev ti 
 torn roon' an' gan ti Chorch mysel. I wins 
 my brass on him, thoo sees, i' the first place, 
 an' one good torn deserves anuther, says I, an' 
 in the second I think it'll please him ti see us 
 i' Chorch." 
 
 The porter here shouted "train," and the 
 station was at once alive with bustling people. 
 
140 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 There was no time for more conversation, 
 and so with a last handshake I bade farewell 
 to a sterling friend. 
 
 For the next few months I was kept so busily 
 at work that the prospect of seeing the Rector 
 again receded into the distance. I corresponded 
 with him, however, and also occasionally 
 with the Heckler, so that I knew matters were 
 steadily progressing in the right direction. 
 The one point on which I was left in doubt was 
 the state of his health ; here he was absolutely 
 silent, but some vague words in a letter from 
 the Heckler had given me an uneasy feeling. 
 A warm letter from Mr. Pulleyne, however, 
 suggesting a week-end visit, made me cast about 
 in my mind for some means of again visiting the 
 North : a Bank Holiday was approaching, I 
 remembered suddenly, and at once wrote and 
 accepted his invitation. 
 
 He was waiting for me on the platform as 
 the train drew up, and I could not fail but 
 notice, notwithstanding the bright expression of 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 141 
 
 his face and the untroubled eyes, that he was 
 looking exceedingly thin and frail ; his garments 
 seemed several sizes too large for him ; as the 
 Heckler remarked to me afterwards, " it was 
 just as if he was wearing his big brother's 
 clothes." 
 
 We had a long talk of old times that night, 
 as also of the future, and I once more insisted 
 on his taking a holiday. " It's all right now," I 
 expostulated, "you've everything in capital order, 
 nothing could be better, and if you don't take 
 some rest at once you'll be properly knocked up, 
 and who'll be the better for that ? " 
 
 "There were just some two or three little 
 things he wanted to get done first," he pleaded, 
 "and then he would think of it." I saw it was 
 no use saying more, and with one so frail and 
 gentle it seemed quite brutal to argue and 
 insist, so I gave it up with a sigh, and turned 
 the conversation. 
 
 " By the way, what about Red Tom ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " he cried almost eagerly in reply, a 
 
142 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 flush of pleasure showing on his cheek, " I really 
 believe he has lost his hostility, that is, to me 
 personally. The Church he still regards with 
 grave doubt and misgiving, but his tone has 
 changed greatly, and there is much to be thankful 
 for in that, for he has a good deal of influence 
 with the men. We were brought together in 
 the first place through my being placed on the 
 Lecture Committee of the Mechanics' Institute : 
 he threatened to resign at first, but after I had 
 been to see him, and explained that the lectures 
 were entirely on social and industrial subjects, 
 he consented to serve, and now he actually comes 
 here occasionally to borrow books." 
 
 "Capital," said I, " that is indeed a good 
 hearing, as they say over the Border. That is 
 the greatest triumph of all, and I know how nobly 
 you have earned your success." 
 
 " Thank you, dear friend," replied the Rector, 
 as he stretched across from his chair, and shook 
 me by the hand, "you know, perhaps, for with- 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 143 
 
 out your encouragement perhaps I might have 
 at one time despaired of ever succeeding at all." 
 
 " Not a bit, not a bit ! " I replied, " and, 
 come now, I must not keep up an invalid any 
 longer," so saying I marched him straight off 
 to bed. 
 
 The next day was a Sunday ; there was to 
 be no sermon at the morning service, but there 
 was nevertheless a good attendance. At the 
 evening service the Church was almost crowded, 
 a phenomenal circumstance in so far as my own 
 recollection went, and the people most attentive. 
 
 I almost started as he gave out the text 
 of his sermon, for it was one of two I had once 
 made mention of to him, and I recognized at 
 once as improbable that it was a mere coincidence, 
 but rather a choice made by himself in his 
 wonderfully thoughtful manner to convey to me 
 his appreciation of what he was pleased to con- 
 sider his obligation to myself. 
 
 The sermon was indeed a model, so simple, 
 earnest, and direct. He held the people spell- 
 
144 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 bound ; no movement broke the stillness, as his 
 gentle, soft voice pleaded on behalf of righteousness, 
 humility, and love, and when in conclusion he 
 knelt to pray, from here and there I caught the 
 sounds of quiet sobbing from the women folk, and 
 could plainly see a soft and a faraway look upon 
 the harsh and toil-worn features of the men 
 around me. 
 
 Mr. Pulleyne still continuing to kneel, long 
 after we had all risen from our knees, a vague 
 alarm spread through the Church. We looked at 
 each other uneasily, then at the kneeling figure in 
 the pulpit. Finally, two of the Churchwardens 
 rose up and went slowly to the bottom of the 
 stairs ; there one of them tapped gently on the 
 woodwork, but still there was no response. " He's 
 dead," cried a woman near me, and at once went 
 into hysterical sobbing. All rose up from their 
 seats dimly possessed with this secret fear that 
 the women had given voice to. A panic seemed 
 almost imminent, when the Rector was seen to 
 make a movement : opening his eyes, he looked 
 
THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 145 
 
 about him vaguely, then half rose up, and would 
 have fallen had not one of the Churchwardens 
 mounted the steps nimbly, and supported him in 
 his arms. 
 
 We carried him gently into the vestry, and, 
 sending at once for the doctor, stood about 
 helplessly, having done what we could to make 
 a couch for him on which to lie. He was terribly 
 weak, his face thin and exhausted, but shining 
 with a wonderful light beautiful to behold, and as 
 I looked mournfully upon him I knew he was 
 slowly and surely gliding away beyond our vision. 
 He held out his hand to me, and said softly, 
 "good-bye, dear friend," then closed his eyes like 
 a tired child, and so passed peacefully away. 
 
 On the day of the funeral the pit lay idle, and 
 the men from far and near attended at the grave 
 side. The faithful Heckler was a pall bearer, and 
 I saw Red Tom himself amidst the crowd of 
 mourners, in comparison with which the massed 
 wreaths of white flowers, the " posies of pitmen's 
 pinks," were but a feeble testimony of the respect 
 
146 THE WHITE-FACED PRIEST. 
 
 and love which the departed had so hardly won 
 for himself by his patient persistence in well-doing. 
 On the simple tombstone erected to his 
 memory by public subscription, the text of his 
 last memorable sermon was carved by general 
 consent, " What else is required of thee but to 
 love mercy, and to shew justice, and to walk 
 humbly with thy God." 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 It was characteristic of " Tommy," as of many 
 other gentle and warm-hearted souls, that tales of 
 violence, and crime, and revolting wickedness in 
 general had a particular fascination for him. I 
 had seen him on occasion pick up a half-frozen 
 worm from the cinder footpath, and deposit it 
 carefully in the dykeside so that none might tread 
 on it, then immediately after sit himself down, and, 
 plucking a newspaper from his pocket, proceed to 
 read the last "triple murder and suicide," or gloat 
 over the details of the latest Whitechapel horror, 
 audibly ejaculating the while, " Eh, but it's fearfu'." 
 
 -- 
 
152 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 "Wow, but what an awsome deed's yon!" and 
 other similar asides. 
 
 It had long been my desire to draw from him 
 some account of the former proprietors of the 
 great and ruined Hall which stood some little way 
 back from the village in which he dwelt, but with- 
 out avail, till, happening to come up with him one 
 afternoon just opposite the gateway, I caught him 
 on the spot, and after a few careless interrogatives, 
 gradually overcame his reluctance — with what 
 result the following tale will testify. I should 
 perhaps add that he made me promise not to 
 divulge his revelation. This promise I fear I can 
 only claim to have kept after the fashion of the 
 Jesuits of old, who regarded their obligations as 
 being only so far binding as sundry mental reser- 
 vations of time, place, and manner would permit ; 
 I further endeavour to believe that I have salved 
 my conscience by a change in the names of the 
 actors in the story. 
 
 " Isn't there a curious story about a will being 
 found in some mysterious manner ? " I enquired, 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S'' TALE. 153 
 
 " I'm sure I have heard some eerie tale or other, 
 and indeed I could believe anything anyone was 
 pleased to tell me concerning that ancient, black, 
 and lightning-riven ruin there amongst the trees." 
 
 " Ay," I heard " Tommy " mutter to himself by 
 way of reply, as his eyes followed in the same 
 direction as my own, " yor right there. Wey, if 
 them stones could only speak they'd tell tales 
 ti horrify anyone that calls hissel a Christian." 
 Fascinated by the aspect of the grey and high-built 
 Hall, the eyrie of weird tradition that reared itself 
 like some old donjon amidst the stunted wind- 
 wrecked trees, proudly overlooking on the one side 
 the level spaces of the sea, and on the other wide 
 stretches of bare countryside, I fell to dreaming of 
 the past, of feudal splendour with its jewelled 
 insolence and haughty disregard of human life. 
 
 " Come now," I exclaimed, as " Tommy " made 
 a step forward as though about to continue on his 
 way up the avenue, " you know some of the tales, 
 and you really must tell me one. All things are 
 fitting — the time, the man, and the listener, so let 
 
154 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 us sit down on that fallen beech yonder whence I 
 can still get a glimpse of the Hall as a frontispiece 
 to your story." 
 
 " Well," replied my companion, reluctantly 
 yielding to the pressure of my constraining arm, 
 " if yo're set on it, dootless the most peaceable 
 way will be ti gratify ye at once ; otherwise it wud 
 be like wor youngest bairn who nivvor leaves 
 pullin' at her daddy till she hes her way wiv him." 
 Sitting down on the lower part of the recumbent 
 beech I motioned him to the smooth space beside 
 me, but he avoided my recommendation, and 
 sought a seat amongst the lower branches. 
 
 " No, no," he said, "ye may like ti get a keek 
 at the Ha' noo an' agen yorsel ti be a sort o' 
 seasonin' ti the story, but for me that's seen what 
 I hev seen there needs no such a remindor. 
 
 "Ay, they were a fearfu' folk, the Delacamps, 
 fearfu', wivoot any religon at aal, an' the old Lord, — 
 him that wes the last o' them, wes aboot champion 
 for wickedness." 
 
 "Tommy" paused here for some moments, while 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 155 
 
 he regarded me with an increased seriousness as 
 though to discover if I were in a mood proper to 
 the solemnity of the occasion. 
 
 " Noo, Maister John," he continued, " there's 
 a tarr'ble plausibility aboot the doctrine o' 
 predestination — isn't there noo ? For myself I's 
 no great upholder o' thae cruel Calvinian creeds, 
 as they call them — but, man, there's a wonderfu' 
 convincingness aboot it, for if ye can but accept it, 
 it'll explain aal for ye, frae the beginnin' ti the 
 end ov a trajiddy. Ye'll mind aboot Pharaoh i' 
 the Bible, an' hoo his heart wes hardened till at 
 the end he perished miserably? well if ye b'lieve i' 
 predestination it's aal right, for then he wes a vessel 
 chosen oot for dishonour an' an example for futor 
 centries, an' mevvies it wud be like be made up tiv 
 him eftor ? " continued " Tommy" enquiringly. 
 " Divvn't ye think sae, yorsel, noo, Maister John ?" 
 he pursued in the wheedling fashion of an advocate, 
 " for suppose noo, that Pharaoh had wished ti do 
 what wes right an' wes prevented, hoo then ? 
 winnot that count for righteousness tiv him ? That, 
 
156 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 an' him havin' made hissel useful as a sort o' bogle 
 for the fleyin' ov aal futor generations o' men ? " 
 
 " Yes," I replied, as u Tommy " waited for a 
 reply, " I most certainly think so, any way I'm with 
 you in heartily disliking Calvinism and all its 
 works." 
 
 "Tommy" looked at me gratefully for a moment 
 before taking up his tale. " Well, mevvies the 
 same thing may hold good o' the Delacamps ; 
 mevvies wiv aal their sins an' wickedness they 
 may hev made theirsels useful i' ways that we can 
 scarcely comprehend." 
 
 " They're aal dead and gane noo," he con- 
 tinued, his parenthesis satisfactorily concluded, 
 "just fair distinguished, aal save Mistress Grace, 
 that is, who wes the old Lord's daughter, an' 
 wes married on the priest. 
 
 " She's no canny, at aal, that Ha', man, no 
 canny at aal, an' after sundown she's haunted. Man, 
 but it's an eldreish place, yon, and I divvn't care 
 ower much ti look at her. " Well," he continued, 
 after a slight pause, " I'll tell ye the tale I ken the 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 157 
 
 best, for its an experience o' my own an' happened 
 only 25 years back, tho' there's tales aboot the 
 Delacamps that gans back right inti the depths 
 o' oblivion, — I mean right awa' back ti the 
 Norman conques', an' the Deluge, an' aal. 
 
 " Ye'll mind the little bit lodge at the corner o' 
 the lang garden wall that ye passed comin' up ? 
 well, that's the lodge my feythor lived in, an' in 
 which I wes born mysel, an' bein' sae close ti the 
 Ha' I came ti ken the old Lord ti look at lang 
 before he ivvor cam' ti tak' any notis ov us. Noo, 
 tho' there's a whack o' sin, an' sufferin', an' 
 cruelty, an' selfishness, i' the world, Maister John, 
 I divvn't think many folks really intends their 
 wickedness ; it's often no mair nor the want o' 
 thought that the poet Wordsworth, I think it is, 
 writes aboot, an' not the want o' heart, but wi' 
 the old Lord it wes different, he meant it ivvory 
 bit, an' he wes aye vexed it wesn't a bit warse, Fs 
 warned. Wey, V b'lieve if an angel frae Heaven 
 hed come across his path he'd hev waved her awa', 
 an' said, ' Had awa' hinny, had awa', thoo's oot 0' 
 
158 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 thy proper sphere, thoo's trespassin' here.' An', 
 man, he hed the wickedest look iv his eye it's 
 possible ti imagine whenivvor any bonny featured 
 woman or lass passed him on the road. Wey, ye 
 cud a'most tell at a distance what sort ov a lass 
 the lass wes by whether she wud quicken her pace 
 eftor she'd passed him or no. It wes a cruel look, 
 an' a greedy look, an' sae pryin' and inquisitive 
 that any decent woman wud blush at it, an' wish, 
 mevvies, for a bit shawl or extry wrap as tho' she 
 felt she'd not enough claes ti conceal her person 
 wiv. 
 
 "That wes his look for a woman, an' what wes his 
 look for a man? — Waur, but different, an' as fu' o' 
 contemptuousness as an egg's fu' o' meat ; at times 
 if he wes vexed or crossed 'twes a'most as if he'd 
 spat ye i' the face, makin' ye hev a sort o' bristly 
 feelin' up the back, ye ken, if ye were one o' thae 
 one-man's-as-good-as-anither radical sort o' chaps ; 
 an' if not, if ye were one o' the other sort o' ax- 
 pardon fellows, wey, I's warned but ye felt as tho' 
 ye hedn't an excuse for livin' same's a litter o' pups 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 159 
 
 that thae dog-men droons wivoot a scuple, mevvies 
 savin' one oot o' the whole fam'ly. 
 
 " Well, as I wes sayin', I kenned the old Lord 
 canny wivoot his ivvor hevin' taken any notis 
 ov us, an' mevvies he'd nivvor hev spoken a 
 word tiv us at aal if it hedn't been that he 
 chanst across us as I wes kneelin' prayin' i' the 
 wood'ower yonder. 
 
 " I wud be aboot nineteen then, I b'lieve, an' 
 hed just been bound for a hewer at the aad 
 Mill Pit, but what wes o' mair importance still 
 I hed just hed my call frae the Lord Jesus, 
 an' wes fu' o' joy an' thankfu'ness at hevin' 
 escaped frae the bondage o' sin thro' bein' con- 
 verted. Well, it so happened that I wes oot 
 helpin' my feythor who worked as a woodman 
 on the place, one Saturday afternoon, an' I wes 
 just restin' awhile till he shud come back wi' some 
 nails for a fence he wes puttin' up, when sudden 
 comes the thought inti my mind, what a gran' 
 chanst it wes o' puttin' up a bit prayer an' 
 thanksgivin'. It wes one o' thae gran' efternoons 
 
160 ''TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 i' the spring, ye ken; the west wind like the 
 breath o' sweet flowers, the sun blithe and heart- 
 some like a strong man aboot to run his race, 
 an' aal things wi' their hearts fairly expandin' 
 i' the marvellous beauty o' the season. 
 
 " I hed na been doon on my knees vary lang, 
 nor hedn't getten'd a vary good start on my 
 prayer, for I wes young tiv it, an' not much ov 
 a scholar then, when there comes a great guffaw 
 o' laughin' frae near by, an' turnin' roon', who 
 shud I see stannin' there but the Lord ? " 
 
 " The Lord ? " I enquired, somewhat startled. 
 
 "Ay," he replied, "the old Lord Delacamp ; 
 naebody else cud have laughed that laugh save 
 him, unless mevvies an evil sperrit, sae haughty 
 an' cruel, an' dogmatic it wes." 
 
 " Dogmatic ? " I echoed, my ingenuity at 
 fault. 
 
 "Ay, dogmatic, treatin' ye like a dog, ye ken. 
 Well, it's a tarr'ble thing ti hev ti confess ti, 
 but I badly doot it's the truth, an' that is that 
 I was sae flabbergasted wi' that scornfu' laugh 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 161 
 
 ov his that I scrambled up frae my knees on ti 
 
 my feet as red i' the face as though I'd been 
 
 doin' somethin' I was properly ashamed of." 
 
 " Yoicks ! " he cries, " forrard on, forrard on ! 
 
 Is conscience blown so soon ? or has she cast 
 
 a shoe that ye should sneak awa' i' the middle 
 
 o' the run like that ? or mevvies that pertiklor 
 
 sin ye were eftor has gone ti ground there ti 
 
 bide comfortably till hounds are drawn off, when, 
 
 my word for it, the young cub will at once be 
 
 at his old tricks again. Why, thoo misorrabil, 
 
 little, cantin', snuffling, cowardly Methody," cries 
 
 he, cracking his whip (for he had one o' thae 
 
 big huntin' whips wiv him) at me, an' flickin' me 
 
 roon' the calf o' the leg wi' the lash, " thoo's 
 
 not a bit bettor than the rest o' the tribe. I 
 
 never caught a man on his knees yet — ootside 
 
 o' Churches — but what he louped tiv his feet 
 
 in a tarr'ble hurry, just as ye did then, wiv his 
 
 cheeks flamin' an' a reg'lor Tom Fool look on 
 
 his face, an' as 'shamed ov hissel as it's possible 
 
 tiv imagine. But divvn't thoo flatter thysel ! 
 
 M 
 
162 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 There's a special place prepared for thoo doon 
 below, an extry hot furnace for parsons, methodies, 
 an' priests an' aal, an' 'twill be the rarest com- 
 fort I'll get down there, ti help turn a fat priest 
 on a gridiron, or mevvies hook a young Methody 
 like yorsel on tiv a spit." 
 
 " I wesn't ashamed ov offerin' up my bit 
 prayer just enoo," I commences, hevin' hed time 
 to collect mysel a bit, when he interrupts me. 
 
 " Oh, ho, and sae ye say ! but what meant 
 that colour in your cheeks, an' the guilty start 
 ye gave? " 
 
 " Ye cam' upon us sudden like, an' I hev 
 a narvous temperament," says I. 
 
 "Capital, capital," he shouts, an' roars wi' 
 laughin' as he slaps his thigh, " a narvous temper- 
 ament," he mimics me. " Why, it beats play-actin' 
 the glib way these Methodies oots wi' their 
 explanations, an' excuses, an' all ! They should be 
 caught young an' put inti the diplomatic sarvice," 
 says he, " either that or else turned inti clowns an' 
 such like. 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 163 
 
 " Will ye come up ti the Hall ti live, an' be my 
 jester ? " he axes me at the finish. 
 
 " No," I says, " I wunnot, not for no amount 
 o' brass." 
 
 " An' why not ? " says he, " are ye afraid o' my 
 Lady ? " 
 
 " Not mair ov her than o' the rest o' ye," I 
 replied, " but I doot there wudn't be a blessin' on 
 it ; not that I wud condemn ye hastily, nor 
 naebody else for that matter, for we are told i' the 
 Scriptors: ' Judge not, that ye be not judged.' An' 
 again, I dinna ken hoo great an' strong yor 
 temptations may be. Mevvies a lord's temptations 
 are far ower mair powerfu' than a pitman's, an' 
 dootless the womenfolk are kind o' fascinated bi 
 ye — aal which must make it difficult for ye ti keep 
 along on the narrer path." 
 
 " But what's the use o' temptations," says he, 
 "if ye resist them ? why, they wudn't exist at aal, 
 an' the narrer path wud vanish, and Providence 
 and the Methodies wud flee awa' like ghaists. 
 No, no," he continued in his mocking way, battling 
 
164 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 me down with those bold eyes of his, " 'twould be 
 flyin' i' the face ov Heaven not ti sin wi' frequency, 
 an','' says he, "thoo acknowledges the same 
 thoosel, for when thoo wes on thy knees just noo 
 thoo must hev been repentin' o' some sly trick or 
 other, I'll be bound. Mevvies the lasses has a 
 fascination for thoo, or mevvies wiv a person like 
 yors thoo hes a fascination for the lasses;" and 
 here he threw his eyes ower me frae head ti feet 
 wiv a sort o' bitin' sneer i' them, as he compared 
 me wiv hissel dootless, an' notissed that I hed a 
 bit ov a club foot. 
 
 " For shame," says I, " thoo an' I alike are 
 fashioned oot o' the same clay by the A'mighty 
 who delights not, as ye may read i' the Bible, i' 
 the legs ov any man. Wey, man," says I, " or 
 Lord, or Marquee, or whativvor it is ye caall 
 yorsel, I'se fair ashamed o' ye." 
 
 He looked savage for a moment, an' ups wiv 
 his whip, then he laughs oot agen, an' chucks me 
 a sovereign, an' says, " There's somethin' for ye, or 
 for the collection nex' Sunday, for I owe you a 
 
''TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 165 
 
 hearty laugh," says he, an' awa' he swaggers doon 
 the path slappin' his leg wiv his huntin' stick 
 as he gans. 
 
 "Well, ever after that he wes sort o' half- 
 friendly wiv us ; at any rate he took notis ov us as 
 he passed noo an' agen, throwin' a bit chaff at us 
 aboot prayin, an' narvous constitootions, an' such 
 like. 
 
 But it wesn't sae very long after all this that 
 the old lord got taken wi' the gout tarr'ble bad, 
 and hed to be wheeled aboot in a chair on castors. 
 I think things wes aaltegether gannin' wrang on 
 him at that time, anyways he aged fearfully fast 
 latterly. 
 
 The only bairn he had wes a girl — the only 
 bairn leastways that wes born in wedlock, an' that 
 was a tarr'ble disappointment tiv him, for he hated 
 his heir an' nevvy like poison, mevvies because he 
 would likely be a sort o' memento tiv him that he 
 would hev ti die sometime. Then his missus agen, 
 my Lady that wes, she wes just as bad at carryin' 
 on wiv the men as my Lord wi' the women folk 
 
166 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 formerly, an' dootless it wes tarr'ble aggravatin' 
 for him sittin' there wiv his feet in a poke ti see 
 such goin's on an' yet be unable ti hev a set-to 
 hissel. 
 
 "There's two places, by the way, i' the grounds, 
 named after the carry-ons o' the Lord an' my 
 Lady — the first is a bit o' risin' ground wiv a 
 pagodie, or dolls-hoos on the top where he met 
 wiv his lights-o-love, an' Nannies, an' aal, an' the 
 other is a walk twixt two high hedges that they 
 call ' My Lady's Bower.' 
 
 " Well, to crown aal the old Lord's misfortunes 
 what should his daughter do but take up sweet- 
 heartin' wi' the Priest i' the village, a curate just 
 fresh come frae Oxford wiv no brass at aal. The 
 upshot ov it aal wes, as indeed ye may easily 
 imagine, that the old Lord, not long after, wes 
 carried off in an apoplexie, tarr'ble sudden an' 
 unexpected like. 
 
 "It was always supposed that the old Lord 
 wud hev cut Mistress Grace off wiv a penny piece, 
 if she insisted on marryin' wi' the priest, an' it 
 
''TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 167 
 
 wes a bit o' a surprise ti larn when it came ti the 
 will readin', that she wes ti hev £40,000 for her 
 dowry, an' nowt said aboot whom she wes ti 
 marry wi\ None of us gave the old Lord any 
 credit for it though, for aal believed tiv a man 
 that 'twes only the suddenness ov his death takin' 
 him unexpected like that prevented him hevin' 
 hed a new will made oot iv her disfavour. 
 
 " It wesn't vary long before she got hersel 
 married, an' awa' the pair o' them went ti live i' 
 south country, for the priest's health wes delicate. 
 My Lady, too, she went off inti furrin' parts wiv 
 a Frenchy Count — some said she wes married, an' 
 some no, an' mevvies she'd care little aboot it 
 hersel, whilst the heir and nevvy, he just shuts the 
 place up, sayin' that it wes a " damned haunted 
 dungeon," says he, an' it wes far ower big ti hire 
 oot tiv anybody else ti live in. Well, it happened 
 some little time after aal these changes had taken 
 place that I wes oot late one night i' the back end 
 ov October. I'd been married recently, an' hed 
 been ti fetch some physic frae the doctor's for 
 my missus. 
 
168 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 " I just scurried past the Ha' on the way 
 back, for I wes always flayed ov her after dark on 
 account o' the tales that were told, an' just as I'd 
 got by, an' wes inti the wood on the far side, I 
 got a glimpse o' somethin' that made my heart 
 gie a loup like a rabbit shot wiv a gun. 
 
 "Ah, the gliff I'd getten'd wes fearfu'. I 
 just crooched doon on my hunkers behind a bit 
 privet hedge tremblin' aal ower, for whom had I 
 seen slippin' silently past on t'other side but the 
 old Lord, ay, an anither wiv him. 
 
 " It wes one o' them high, windy, October 
 nights, an' the moonlight shinin' oot an' in 
 betwixt the gusts, an' I'd gettened a fair view on 
 the pair o' them i' the midst o' the streamin' 
 light. I recognised the old Lord iv a snap, — his 
 face thinner an' paler than it hed been i' life, an' 
 tarr'ble drawn an' haggard lookin', as tho' he cud 
 never hev gettened a bit o' sleep, an' had suffered 
 fearfu' pangs in his mind an' mem'ry; ay, it wes 
 him, no doot, an' that wes bad enough, but the 
 other's face wes far warse e'en than his. He wes 
 
''TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 169 
 
 holdin' up a bit coat or shawl, as a man might 
 who didn't want ti be recognised, but ower the 
 top ov it I caught a look at his face, and it wes 
 just a fair shock ti behold .... Well," he 
 continued after a pause, with curt impressiveness, 
 " it was just him." 
 
 " The dev — ," I began, but "Tommy," with a 
 swift and fearful glance around, caught me up on 
 the instant. " Ay, ay, just him, just livin' wicked- 
 ness framed in a lightning flash, as one might 
 say, the mere vision o't cuttin' the narves like a 
 knife, searin' the vary heart's blood. Eh, but that 
 night's seein' has given us grey hairs before wor 
 time. For just think, Maister John, what a face 
 like yon mun mean ! Just pictor it ti yorsel. It 
 canna love owt, not e'en for a second o' time. I doot 
 whether it can e'en love itsel. Ti gan on livin', 
 an' livin', an' hatin' everything i' the whole world 
 frae wide Heaven above, doon ti deepest Hell 
 below — isn't it a fearfu' thought ? " and "Tommy" 
 sat silent for a space wrestling with the image his 
 own words had evoked. 
 
170 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 "I just had ti catch my breath back an' try 
 ti pray for deliverance, an' then I crawled till I 
 win ti the wood's edge, an' after that, well, no 
 greyhound ever pupped cud hev bested us that 
 night. 
 
 " I wes mevvies aboot half way up the avenue 
 when a fearfu' thing happened. There came an 
 awfu' jag o' lightnin' that seemed ti set fire iv an 
 instant o' time ti the whole earth, an' right i' the 
 midst o' that white furnace o' fire I saw the great 
 tower o' the Hall tremble an' totter like a drunken 
 man, then fall iv it's full length ti the ground. 
 The Heavens rang roond an' roond wi' the thunder 
 clap that followed, as tho' a thoosand doors ov a 
 great prison hoos had been clanged open, an' a 
 thick sulphurous smoke came rollin' like as when 
 ye fire a shot doon the pit, aal along the earth, 
 chokin' the empty space 'mongst the trees. This 
 is the last trump, an' the day o' doom, I thinks, 
 an' casts mysel doon wi my hands ower my eyes, 
 fearfu' o' bein' blinded by the glory ti be revealed. 
 
 " Hoo lang I lay there waitin' I divvn't ken, 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 171 
 
 nor hoo lang I might hev bided nowther, hedn't 
 the thought o' my missus lyin' aal alone come 
 ower me, for she wad be wantin' us to join hand 
 in hand wiv her ti gan before the Judgment Seat 
 ti mak' wor answers for wor sins. 
 
 " Well, when I got home I fund she wesn't 
 nigh sae terrified as mysel, an' I wes tarr'ble glad 
 o' that, for iv her delicate position at that time, a 
 gliff like that I'd gettened might hev hed the 
 warst o' consequences. 
 
 "I cud scarce get a wink o' sleep the night 
 thro', for I wes always expectin' to hear the sound 
 o' the trumpets every minute, and when the morn 
 came at the finish I felt that shabby an' shaken 
 that there wes no wark for us that day. After 
 hevin' hed wor breakfasts I felt a bit refreshed 
 like, an' a tarr'ble curiosity came ower us ti gan 
 doon ti the Hall, an' see the ruin the thunder- 
 bolt hed made. 
 
 " When I got there the place wes in a tarr'ble 
 confusion, tho' there wes nobody else aboot that 
 I cud see — it not bein' generally known then that 
 
172 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 she hed been struck — the tower hevin' crashed 
 right doon thro' the roof o' the library and drorin' 
 rooms, an' busted the great front door right open 
 ti the air. It wes mair like a pit heap than any- 
 thing else i' the warld, the great door-steps aal 
 covered ower wi' broken stanes, an' fragments o' 
 chimbleys, an' glass — just like a midden, an' when 
 I got inside it wesn't much better there. As I 
 stood there gazin' aboot disconsolate like, the old 
 hoos-keeper comes alang. I kenned her clivvor, 
 for her grand-daddy wes married on Jenny 
 Straughan, that wes my wife's feythor's step- 
 daughter biv his forst wife, ye ken, an' comin' up 
 wi' me she says quite ordinary-like, 'Ay, it's aal 
 iv a tarr'ble mess, and I doot the young Lord '11 
 do nowt ti put it right, for he cares nowt aboot 
 the place at aal — just a spendthrift for hissel an' 
 a skinflint for others — an' I'm thinkin' I'll just be 
 for flittin' mysel eftor Mistress Grace, that wes the 
 only one o' the fam'ly I cared for. By the 
 ways,' says she, tuggin' at something in her 
 pocket, ' one o' the first things I sees when I 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 173 
 
 comes upon the desolation by the light o' day was 
 just this,' and here she holds up a dockymint iv 
 her hands, ' an' I b'lieve it'll be a will o' the old 
 Lord's. I mind his makin' me sign my name tiv 
 a parchment of this sort ; hoo an' when I canna 
 mind exactly. I doot I must hev been in a kind 
 o' dwam at the time, but anyways it's my hand 
 an' my mark at the end o't, for tho' I'se a tarr'ble 
 bad scholar I can read my hand an' mark, an' 
 that's them ' she says, as she opens the paper 
 and shows me a great sprawlin' ' Barbara Haydox 
 — her mark.' 
 
 " Wow," says I, " but what a strange thing is 
 this, findin' a will i' that fashion, wey, its no canny 
 at aal ! I wunner what i' the warld it can aal be 
 aboot," I says, " nae good I'll be bound. 
 
 " ' I ken nowt aboot that,' says she, 'but as long 
 as I bide here I've my dooty ti perform, an' what 
 I wants thoo ti do is to take it ti the old Lord's 
 lawyers tellin' em exactly hoo I found it an aal.' 
 " Well, it wesn't a job I wes keen aboot, but 
 she carries on sae hersel, an' what wiv her bein' a 
 
174 "TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 
 
 very old body an' nigh ti bed-ridden, an 5 a bit o' a 
 relation of my own as well, I says I will at the 
 finish. 
 
 " When I got ti the lawyer's office i' the toon 
 I axes ti see the gaffer i' private an' very partiklor, 
 an' I tell't him the whole thing right oot, an' what 
 I'd seen an' aal. When I gets finished he looks 
 at me frae unner his heavy eyelids, an' he says, 
 1 Mevvies thoo is a credulous sort ov a man?' says 
 he. 'No,' I says, ' I's not, Fs a true believor oot 
 an' oot.' He gies a bit smile at this, an' then he 
 says, ' Well, its a curious tale, an' a still mair 
 curious dockyment,' says he, ' but 'tis informal, 
 as it turns out, otherwise Mistress Grace, as ye 
 call her, wud hev been robbed ov aal she hes, an' 
 the Asylum for Idiots wud hev ta'en her £40,000. 
 An' noo, look thoo here, there's somethings best not 
 ta'alked aboot,' says he, ' an' this is one o' them. 
 Here's a sovereign,' he says, as he slides her into 
 my hand,' for your trouble and expenses, and 
 anither for the hoos-keeper, an' think o' this,' 
 he adds, as he shows me oot, keepin' the docky- 
 
"TEMPLE TOMMY'S" TALE. 175 
 
 ment iv his hands, ' as ye gan home, that a wise 
 man will put mair value on a good sovereign than 
 on a bad vision.' 
 
 " Dear me, noo ! " " Tommy " broke off suddenly 
 with a frightened ejaculation, "and what's that?" 
 as an owl hooted shrilly above us in the gathering 
 dusk. " Howay," he said, before I had even time 
 to reply, " howay," it's no a canny place this eftor 
 dark, Maister John, at aal. He's aye oot eftor 
 dark searchin' for that will, sae, howay !" and here- 
 with he clapped his arm through mine, and led me 
 away down the avenue at double quick time. 
 
 Note.— In order to avoid all misconception it may be well to 
 state that in the narrator of the above and following tale, a type 
 rather than an individual has been depicted, and it is only in " The 
 Flight of the Lodger," that the author has attempted to draw a 
 likeness of the late Mr. Gleghorn, of Seaton Delaval. 
 
A CHAMPION CONVERSION 
 
 N 
 
A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 
 
 ''Yes," replied " Tommy," in answer to a query, 
 " Black Geordie wes a reg'lar charc'ter aboot here 
 some twenty years syne, a reg'lar charc'ter, an' no 
 mistake, for he wes wivoot doot the biggest black- 
 ayard ov his time, an' efter that the powerfullest 
 man at prayin' the whole countryside. Add ti 
 that again, that he wes the heaviest eater an' 
 drinker ivvor kenn'd i' these parts, while for bairn- 
 gettin' him an' his missus had triplets at one time 
 an' twins at the other, for there was nothin' narrer 
 nor small-minded aboot him, I's warn'd ye. Sae 
 just add aal these pints tegither i' yor mind, an' 
 
180 A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 
 
 ye'll hev a fine picture ov a man. I doot that 
 sort o' breed's just extinct, Maister John, like 
 some o' those big creatures I've heard tell of i' 
 books I've read. Wow, but he wes a reg'lor 
 Trojan ! 
 
 " He wes a proper Samson at hewin' coals 
 forbye, an' such wes his repute far an' near, that 
 the viewer at the High Colliery sends for him, an' 
 he says tiv him, 'If thoo'll work for us,' says he, 
 1 wey, I'll gie thoo a sov'rin a day wage an' as 
 much butcher's meat as thoo can eat ! ' Sae 
 Geordie says, ' Gie me my arles* an' I'll hew for 
 thoo on thae terms.' 
 
 "Well, he hedn't been hewin' above a fortnight 
 when wivoot any warnin' he gets his notis, and 
 when he gans up ti the office ti ask ' What for ? ' 
 the manager tells him right oot that he wes 
 properly ruinin' him i' butcher's bills. ' Wey, 
 
 * Aries, binding money. " Mr. Pigg's demand of Mr. Jorrocks." 
 
 " Your wot ?" enquired Mr. Jorrocks. 
 
 " My arles, we always get arles i' wor country." 
 
 " "Wot all your wittles at once ?" 
 
 "No, man, — Sir, aw mean,— summat to bind bargain like." 
 
A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 181 
 
 thoo must eat a whole ox each week,' says he, 
 ' not countin' a stray sheep or so thrown in here 
 an' there.'* 
 
 " 'Mevvies I do,' says Geordie, ' but if I hew 
 eight tons o' coals for thoo a day I's well worth 
 it ! ' says he. He sartinly hed a champion 
 appetite," continued " Tommy," " an' wes always 
 ready for his meat, as his wife kenned nicely. 
 There wes once as he lay in his bed, gettin' his 
 sleep efter comin' in frae the fore shift, a clivvor 
 leg o' mutton roastin' i' front ov his fire, an' his 
 missus wes standin' beside it bastin' it, an' when 
 she thinks it's gettin' aboot rightly cooked, she 
 just cuts off a wee piece biv the nuckle, as the wife 
 often will, ye ken, to try an' see if it wes aal right. 
 Well, Geordie wesn't asleep efter aal, an' the 
 sight ov her tastin' his meat wes mair nor he cud 
 stand, sae there an' then he flees oot o' bed iv his 
 linin's, dashes his missus aside, seizes the mutton 
 biv the bone end, and loups back into his bed, 
 
 *This must have been a special arrangement, for hewers are not 
 paid by the day, but by the amount of "tubs" hewn each fortnight 
 
182 A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 
 
 shoutin' ti the wife, ' Thoo great slovenly b , 
 
 thoo, ti gan an' spoil maa meat that fashion ; ' an' 
 he sets hissel ti wark on it wiv his teeth just as he 
 lay there iv his bed, shiftin' it roon' iv his hands 
 as a dog does a bone, till he'd clean finished it 
 aaltegithor. 
 
 " Well, it wes a long time before he got con- 
 varted, for it wes a tarr'ble while before he wud 
 listen ti the call frae the Lord, but the way it 
 come aboot at the finish wes this. 
 
 "The marrow he hed ti wark wi' for many 
 years wes just such anither as hissel, but on a 
 much smaller scale, ye ken — a swearin', gamblin' 
 hardworkin' beer-barrel sort o' chap, an' mevvies 
 wud hev kep on his old courses till he died hedn't 
 a tarr'ble accident happen'd him i' the pit. He 
 wes the last ti come up ti bank, an' wes aal biv' 
 himsel i' the cage when, just as she wes close up 
 by, the rope breaks, an' doon, right doon the shaft 
 thunners the cage wiv' him in it. 
 
 " Well, nobody that disn't wilfully shut his 
 eyes ti plain fact can deny that his bein' saved, 
 
A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 183 
 
 as he wes, mun hev been the direct interposition 
 of Providence, for the shaft wes 40 fathom deep, 
 if she wes an inch, an' yet there he wes not more 
 than stunned, half a dozen ribs broken, an' his 
 hands nigh cut in half. 
 
 "The only way ti account for his not bein' 
 dashed aaltegithor i' pieces is, under Providence, 
 that the shaft's not parfectly straight, hevin' a bit 
 turn about 30 yards frae the bottom, sae that the 
 shock o' the fall wes divided up a bit, an' didn't 
 come on him aal at once. 
 
 " Well, efter he'd finished wi' the doctorin' he 
 wes a changed man ; he said himsel' twarn't 
 likely he shud hev hed that tarr'ble fall, wivoot 
 bein' massac'ed biv it, aal for nowt. 
 
 " Sae he turns hissel roon' an' makes a new 
 start as a Christian man, an' nowt will satisfy him 
 but he must get his marrow, ' Black Geordie,' 
 convarted also, for he says the judgment ov his 
 fall wes meant for both o' them, bein' marrows, 
 but Geordie says no, he'd getten'd no fall, an' as 
 for judgment it wes the ropeman who wanted that, 
 
184 A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 
 
 for not hevin' tested it properly that day, — well, 
 they hammered away at each other, but Geordie 
 says, ' Smash man, but thoo's a fool, that fall's 
 just addled what little brains thoo ever hed. 
 ' When I's done I's done, sae hev your whack 
 whilst ye can,' he says. * Ay, thoo may think say 
 noo,' said his marrow, ' but wait till thoo's across 
 Jordan, an' then thoo'll see.' 
 
 "'Get on wi' yer nonsense,' says Geordie, 
 quite vext wi' the other ; ' thoo's no better than a 
 priest noo wi' yor judgment an* Jordans, an' aal.' 
 ' Well,' says the other solemnly, * I doot I's not 
 lang for this warld, for I's had my notis the 
 other night, but what I say is this, supposin' I 
 come back frae the other warld ti warn thoo o' 
 the wrath to come, winno thoo b'lieve it ? ' 
 
 " ' No,' Geordie replied vary contemptuous, 
 'thoo canna gliff me that way.' ' But what wud 
 thoo do if thoo thought thoo saw us come back 
 frae the other warld?' ' Wey, I'd just tak a 
 pill, an' louse my hide,' says his marrow, ' or 
 mevvies drop the beer for a night. But I warn 
 
A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 185 
 
 thoo,' he continues, gettin' warm again, ' that if 
 thoo comes foolin' aboot my hoos efter this, dead 
 or alive, I'll clap the poker thro' yor guts,' says 
 he, an' wi' that he marches awa, an' takes up wiv 
 anither marrow, an' nivvor speaks ti the other 
 again i' this life. Well, we notised, aal ov us, 
 that Geordie turned kind o' queer iv his actions 
 an' manners not vary lang efter his former marrow 
 died, for he grew quite quiet like for him aal ov a 
 suddint, an' scarce seemed aware ov it if folks 
 spoke tiv him. Then at anither time mevvies he'd 
 spang oot intiv a fury for nowt ; if thoo were to 
 say ' Yes,' in answer ti a question frae him he'd 
 glare at thoo as though he'd been fair insulted 
 upon; an' again if thoo wished to please him, an' 
 said * No,' he'd call thoo aal the colours o' the 
 rainbow right oot. It wes always said, Maister 
 John, that he wes a proper champion at ' callin' ' 
 anyone who might vex him any, an' at cursin' an' 
 sweerin' iv a general way, for he wes always first 
 class at anythin' he took up wi', an' mevvies as he 
 wes such a strong sort o' calibre ov a man it came 
 
186 A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 
 
 natural tiv him, an' wesn't sae bad in him as it 
 wud be wi' the likes o' you an' me. 
 
 " It seems he thought he wes bein' haunted by 
 sperrits, ye see, an' he didn't like it, not bein' the 
 sort o' chap who wud stand bein' interfered wiv 
 iv any way, nor bein' spied upon, nor drove at 
 aal, an' at nights t'wes said he carried on fearfu', 
 smashin' aal the lookin' glasses an' picture frames 
 wiv a poker, or anything at aal shiny that cud 
 reflect at aal. He took ti the beer warse than 
 ivvor to droon his cares an' his fancies, but it 
 seemed it only made things warse, an' at the 
 finish he thinks he'll try the chapel, an' see if he 
 cud exorcise the sperrits, or his marrow's ghaist, 
 or whativvor it was, that wes hauntin' him. His 
 missus just thought he was clean bewitched, for 
 she'd seen nowt hersel, an' bein' a chapel goer 
 mevvies wesn't sae flay'd as her man, who hed 
 always ridiculoused religion aal his life previous. 
 
 " Well, he gans ti the Chapel then wiv his 
 missus one Sunday mornin', an' sits under a 
 reg'lor orator ov a man, one o' thae sort who hae 
 
A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 187 
 
 the gift, ye ken, Maister John, noo thunnerin' 
 at ye till ye get a shiver aal doon the back, noo 
 whisperin' ye softly an' parsuavisly till the tears 
 are runnun' doon yor cheeks wivoot yer knawin' 
 owt aboot it. 
 
 " An' Geordie, he sits there like a child, for 
 here wes a man, as he said himsel efterwards, 
 who wes tellin' him aal things that he hed ivvor 
 done in his life, an' wiv a parfect unnerstandin' 
 as ti why he'd done them as well. 
 
 " There he stay'd, an' wadn't budge efter the 
 Sarvice wes over, but lies doon on the floor 
 groanin' an' grovellin' for six hours, when, as he 
 said, he seed a sort o' glorious vision, an' the 
 Lord comes tiv him, an' touches him on the 
 shoulder, an' says tiv him, " Hinny, thoo's saved." 
 
 "Well," continued "Tommy" slowly, efter a 
 pause, " there's no doot that it wes a real proper 
 convarsion at the time, whativvor backslidings 
 might hev chanced efterwards, an' nobody ivvor 
 bore his testimony o' the change iv hissel mair 
 powerfully than Geordie for some six months 
 
188 A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 
 
 efter. He wes just fu' o' fire an' eloquence, red 
 hot wiv earnestness, an' many's the talk they hev 
 ov him at that period ov his life. Wey, it 
 chanced one day that there wes one o' thae Jew 
 pedlar cheps comin' doon the Raa* wiv a pack o' 
 trinkets, an' gaudy pictures, an' such like things 
 that tempt the wives, ye ken, when Geordie wes 
 stannin' iv his doorway. Soon as ivvor he claps 
 eyes on him, he gies a sort o' start, then flees 
 inside his hoos, an' claps ti the door, sayin' tiv 
 his missus, " Here, lass, here's one o' thae Jew 
 fellers comin' doon the Raa who kill'd the Lord 
 Jesus. I's warn'd ! " he says, "but I'll punish 
 him properly if he shoves his finger inside o' wor 
 door steek ! " It wes one o' those old fashioned 
 sort, "Tommy" explained, "that ye hed ti lift up 
 by puttin' yor finger thro' a hole an' pushin' up 
 the catch frae the ootside. 
 
 " Well, doon gans Geordie on his knees waitin' 
 for the pedlar ti gie his hoos a try. 
 
 " Aal in good time he comes along suspectin' 
 nowt, gies a bit tap on the door, and claps his 
 
 *Row. 
 
A CHAMPION CONVERSION 189 
 
 finger through the hole. Wow, but what a 
 surprise he hed getten'd ! 
 
 " There he wes, held fast biv he knew not 
 what, an' tarr'ble pained mairover, for Geordie 
 hed grand teeth, an' hed clagged them right ti 
 the bone. 
 
 " Smash ! but the yell the pedlar let wes just 
 tremendjus ! Then, wiv a desperate pull, he drags 
 his finger oot o' the trap, an' flees awa aff doon 
 the village, wivoot ivvor lookin' behind him, for 
 aal the warld like a dog wiv a kettle at the 
 hinder end ov him. 
 
 " Shortly efter that there wes a great Revivalist 
 meetin' held aboot here, an' Geordie bein' greatly 
 taken up wiv it, didn't require much persuasion ti 
 stand up on a platform i' the open air amongst 
 them aal, an' gie an account ov hissel an' his 
 experiences. 
 
 Up he gets, then, on ti the platform, dressed 
 oot just as if he wes gannin' doon the pit for a 
 shift, iv his hoggers an' aal, wiv his davy iv his 
 hand, an' his pick unner his arm, an' holds forth 
 
190 A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 
 
 aboot his past life an' aal the evil things ivvor 
 he'd done iv it, not lettin' hissel aff easy, but 
 heapin' up his wickedness an' callin' hissel ivvory- 
 thin', an' in between whiles the Hallelujah lasses 
 kep' bangin' on their tambourines, an' cryin' oot, 
 " The Lord be praised," " Praise the Lord for 
 His mercy ! ' for they aal felt it wes a grand 
 triumph ti hev getten'd hold o' such an evil liver 
 as Geordie hed been up to that time. 
 
 " He kept on bravely for a bit, did Geordie, 
 efter that, hammerin' aal his old friends an' 
 marrows ti come ti Chapel, an' " gie it a try," 
 an' some came an' tried it, ay, an' went reg'lar 
 efterwards. 
 
 " I divvn't mysel aaltegithor fancy," con- 
 tinued " Tommy " meditatively, after a moment or 
 two of inward reflection, " thae's sort of steam- 
 organ convarsions, as one may say, — they're ower 
 sudden an' forced like, they divvn't last lang, an' 
 in Geordie's case, as I said before, he didn't keep 
 on as he'd begun mair nor six months. 
 
 " Efter that he took ti " lyin' in" ov a Sunday 
 
A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 191 
 
 mornin', an' for the evenin' sarvice, when he wes 
 searched for, he cudn't be found, hevin' usuallies 
 left a message wiv his missus that he wes awa' ti 
 gie a hand at some field preachin' or other, an', 
 for a bit, the excuse sarved his turn, till one 
 Sunday night, he wes discovered behind a dyke- 
 side playin' a card game — "under 7 an' over" — 
 wiv his pipe in's mouth an' a can o' beer beside 
 him. 
 
 " Well, he wes blown on for that, an' properly 
 trounced bi the Minister for his conduct, but he 
 didn't seem ti care ower much, just gies his 
 shoulders a bit shrug, and says, " Canny, noo, 
 canny ;" he says, " I've worked hard an' full time 
 for the good cause, an' many's the one I've catched 
 haud of an' convarted, but I's like the Colliery," 
 says he, " she wud soon be warked oot if it wes 
 alway full time ivvory day i' the year wiv her, an' 
 it's the same wi' me. 
 
 " I'd be warked oot tarr'ble soon mysel if 
 ivvory day I put in a full shift at the Chapel, sae 
 i' the future I'll just keep mysel for annivarsaries, 
 
192 A CHAMPION CONVERSION. 
 
 an' flo'er sarvices, an' thanks-givin's — aal the 
 best cavils, i' short, ye ken." 
 
 " Well, that was aal that cud be getten'd oot 
 ov him, it seems, an' as he wes one they darsn't 
 offend they just hed ti let him gan his own gait, 
 an' help them when he had a mind. 
 
 " He met his final end, hoo'evor," " Tommy " 
 concluded, "like a brave man, for when a fall o' 
 stone came doon i' that pit on the top ov his 
 marrow he rushed in, eased it aal aff him wiv his 
 great Strang back an' shoulders, sae that his 
 marrow cud get crawled away unnerneath it, but 
 bein' left hissel wi' the mass ov it on him, gradu- 
 ally sunk till he wes flat on his face, an' by the 
 time they had it levered aff him aal his ribs were 
 broke an' him a dead man." 
 
THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 
 
Note to 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 
 
 So many words and metaphors in this sketch are drawn 
 from the daily life down the pit that a special Glossary is 
 prefixed with a view to providing an interpretation without 
 disfiguring the text by a series of notes and comments. 
 
 " Marrow, Marrer," Mate. 
 
 " A trouble," " a fault or hitch in the coal strata of a pit." 
 
 "'Formary," infirmary. 
 
 "Gie a big shot," viz- "To bring down a large quantity of 
 coal by firing a charge of gunpowder. In steam coal 
 collieries where large coal is required, the coal face is first 
 undercut, or 'kirved,' by the pick, the shot is then put in 
 above, and a big mass of coal, or ' jud,' is usually brought 
 away by the explosion." 
 
 11 A big fall of stone." When a fall of stone occurs, those 
 working near will come to the spot in order to give any 
 assistance that may be needed in rescuing a possibly 
 injured comrade. 
 
 " Horny Tram," " a tram with four or more upright arms of iron, 
 used for conveying rails, props, etc." 
 
 " Deputies' KistS," the chests of the Deputies (overseers) in 
 which they keep their tools. 
 
 " Mells," hammers. 
 
 11 Tommy-ha'aks," tommahawks, a species of axe. 
 
 11 Shift," day's work. " In a colliery the first period of working is 
 called the fore shift, and the next the back shift, and 
 the hewers themselves are similarly called the fore or back 
 shift, according to their rotation in starting work." 
 
 " Howay," come away. It is frequently used by pitmen to 
 intimate that they are ready to be lowered in the " cage." 
 
 "Hyem," home. 
 
THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 
 
 Pitmen as a class are perhaps an unusually 
 healthy set of men, but there are two complaints 
 to which they are more commonly liable, owing 
 probably to the nature of their occupation, than 
 other men, piles namely, and "the pains" (rheu- 
 matic). It was no matter of surprise then, when 
 the colliery doctor sent "Temple Tommy" oft 
 to the Infirmary at Oldcastleton to be treated 
 for the first-mentioned malady. 
 
 It was well known that he had lately been 
 ailing somewhat ; I had noticed myself that he 
 had been " looking shabby," as our North-country 
 
198 THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 
 
 phrase goes, but we all thought to see him back 
 again within the fortnight as bright as ever and 
 with health renewed. 
 
 It was something of a shock, therefore, to 
 learn that he was seriously ill, and I determined 
 to go and visit him — to cheer him up if possible, 
 for " Tommy " was a homely individual, and would 
 assuredly be pining, as he lay in the bare and white- 
 washed ward, for wife, and bairns, and " hyem." 
 As I entered the long ward his was one of the 
 first figures I perceived, for he was up and 
 partially dressed, and was sitting by the bed-side 
 of another sick man — " a marrer he had ta'en up 
 wi'," as he told me by way of an introduction — a 
 basin of broth in one hand and a spoon in the 
 other. His face had always been grey in colour, 
 for he had never been robust, and the under- 
 ground life had never quite suited his constitution, 
 but that afternoon I noticed an additional tinge of 
 pallor, and his ordinarily quaint, humorous, and 
 earnest expression was almost hidden behind a 
 certain look of forlornness that was very pathetic. 
 
THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 199 
 
 His ruffled hair stood up about his head in woe- 
 begone fashion, and his eyes, which were those of 
 a child — big and wide-opened — had the same 
 mournful aspect as a child's when caught with 
 pain. 
 
 "Sit ye doon, sor, sit ye doon," cried 
 "Tommy," after greetings had been duly ex- 
 changed, " the marrer disn't mind ; his heid's 
 mendid by noo, an' he likes ti hear a bit crack — 
 it heartens him up a bit." 
 
 Whereon I joined the party, and sat down on 
 the edge of the bed next to the speaker. 
 
 " Well," I said, as I glanced over him, " I fear 
 you don't look any better yet, but now that the 
 operation has been performed we must carry you 
 off home again, to see if we can't ' fettle ' you up 
 better than these town doctors." 
 
 "Tommy" smiled faintly, as he took another 
 mouthful of liquid, then, "Ay, I'm ti gan home to- 
 morrow, the doctor says," he replied, " but I doot 
 the clay's ower weakly noo for you, an' the missus, 
 an' the doctors ti do any good at wiv aal yor 
 
200 THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 
 
 kindness." It was always easier in conversation 
 with ''Tommy" to adopt his own peculiar language 
 and quaint metaphors, drawn almost entirely from 
 the Bible and the pit. He had indeed coined 
 several words — certain additions of his to the 
 language passed current in Selaval pit village and 
 vicinity — and ''clay" was one of the best known 
 of these. 
 
 " Clay," indeed, had come to be quite a 
 popular expression amongst us, for it was a 
 compact, convenient word, and as an importation 
 from the Scriptures rather than an impression from 
 his own private mint, had readily acquired public 
 favour. 
 
 As used by " Tommy " it signified the body, or 
 bodily health, — in brief, the antithesis of the soul 
 which he was wont to term " the lodger." 
 
 " The ' clay,' " I therefore replied, " soon gets 
 limp and slack, but when we get you back again 
 we will see if fresh air and port wine cannot 
 strengthen it to its former consistency." 
 
 "Thank ye, sor," he answered gravely, "but 
 
THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 201 
 
 I doot the clay's just aboot through ; it's like a 
 seam doon the pit — warked oot ; a big trouble's 
 shewed itsel, an' the lodger mun flit. The 
 doctors here will tell ye the same; they're just 
 sendin' what's left o' the clay back home tiv it's 
 quiet dissolution. I kenned aal along that it wes 
 no use us comin' ti the 'formary, for weeks back 
 when I wes preachin' at the annivarsary sarvice 
 I got my notis. Aal the while the still small 
 voice wes whisperin* i' my lug, sae low that nae- 
 body else cud hear it — 'Fire a big shot the night, 
 Tommy, fire a big shot ! ' an' I kenned for sartin 
 that it wes my last shift for the Lord. 
 
 " I felt tarr'ble shabby an' lonesome when I got 
 here, for aal seemed sae furrin' like, an' the clay 
 did nowt but shiver an' pine, an' when I seed a 
 squad o' doctors comin' alang tiv us, I says, 
 1 * Tommy,' there's been a great fall o' stone.' 
 
 " They comes alang towards us pushin' a great 
 horny-tram i' front o' them, aal covered ower wi' 
 bratticin', then lifts poor ' Tommy' up an' lays him 
 on the top o't 
 
202 THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 
 
 " When they'd wheel'd us alang ti the big 
 chamber where the operation wes ti be done, the 
 clay felt aal wambly an' sick tegither, for there wes 
 nowt there but deputies kists, and tommy ha'aks, 
 an' mells, an' scissors, an' knives, an' poor 'Tommy' 
 bein' sae far from Selaval, an' the wife, an' bairns, 
 an' the coll'ery an' aal, vary nigh dwamed aff. 
 But he comforts hissel wi' thinkin' that it wes only 
 the clay that wes iv any danger ; the doctors, he 
 says tiv hissel, can cut and slice the clay, but they 
 canna touch the lodger. 
 
 " Mindin' that, I didn't care sae much ; aal I 
 wes flay'd ov efter that wes just on account o' the 
 missus, for I wes wantin' ti tell her not ti greet, 
 for that I wud be waitin' for her the other side the 
 river, when her turn shud come ti be ferried ower 
 by the great Boatman. 
 
 " Ay, an' it'll not be long noo before ' Tommy' 
 must meet Him hissel — the Boatman wi' the kind 
 an' shinin' eyes that'll be as a lamp across the 
 dark river. 
 
 " Eh, an' what a thing it is, Maister John, ti 
 
THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 203 
 
 ken the Boatman — ti ken Him beforehand — sae 
 that ye can just put yor hand oot an' knaa that 
 all's well by His touch, the instant that ye win 
 thro' ti the everlastin' rest. 
 
 " Thor'll be nae mair operations there, Maister 
 John, nor 'formaries, nor accidents, nor sich-like, 
 for He shall wipe the tears frae aal eyes when He 
 
 welcomes the lodger home." 
 
 ****** 
 
 We were standing round "Tommy's" bedside, 
 waiting for the end ; his forecast had proved true, 
 and the doctors, having discovered that he was 
 suffering from cancer in the stomach, had sent him 
 home to die, being unable either to alleviate or 
 extirpate that fatal malady. 
 
 The quiet of the room was broken at intervals 
 by the sobs of his wife and his two young children, 
 and occasionally "Tommy" himself spoke in a 
 dreamy way a few words to his " marrow," whose 
 hand was fast in his own. 
 
 After a long pause in which we thought he 
 had fallen asleep, " Jack," he said suddenly, " is 
 
204 THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 
 
 that thoo ? " " Ay, lad," came the thick response 
 from his mate beside him. " I's makkin' sharp 
 for the other side, Jack." 
 
 " Ay, thoo's ap-proachin'." 
 
 " But it's aal right, Jack, I's comfortable ; 
 I's got Christ i' my heart, an' the clay's nearly 
 done. So long, hinny ! " And therewith he fell 
 into a doze. The sound of his wife's sobs, I 
 think, recalled him to a brief consciousness, for 
 he feebly tried to draw her nearer to him with 
 his other hand, then sank still further back upon 
 his pillows with a groan. 
 
 " Is there owt ye wud fancy, ' Tommy ?' ' she 
 sobbed aloud, giving way helplessly to her grief. 
 
 " I wud be vary much obliged for a wee suck 
 at an orange," began "Tommy," but a renewed 
 burst of weeping from his wife — it was mid- 
 August and no orange was procurable — at once 
 diverted him from his own torment, and he 
 turned to comfort and rebuke her at one and 
 the same time. 
 
 " Whist, then, whist, Mary, lass ; thor's no 
 
THE FLIGHT OF THE LODGER. 205 
 
 call ti greet, it's nowt but the clay that's leavin' 
 ye, the lodger cannot die, an' there he'll be ti 
 meet thoo on the other side the river." 
 
 The effort had exhausted him ; he sank back 
 with closed eyes on to his pillow. Then suddenly 
 he opened them shining brightly and triumphant, 
 and — with a " Ho-way, Lord " upon his lips — the 
 gentle lodger departed to his rest. 
 
 How long we stood there in the solemn 
 silence, I knew not, but gradually we bethought 
 us of the widow and the children, and so came 
 out quietly together. 
 
 The doctor, I noted, held his hand to his 
 eyes as though he wished none to observe him, 
 and I heard the Vicar, who also had come to 
 bid "Tommy" farewell, murmur to himself as he 
 passed me by : " Verily I have not found so great 
 faith, no, not in Israel." 
 
THE LAST 
 MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH. 
 
Note to 
 THE MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH. 
 
 In places of an importance sufficient for the maintenance 
 of a Mayor and Corporation, the observances and regulations of 
 the Court Leet were rigidly carried out and insisted upon. 
 
 In a small country village like Redburnmouth, however, 
 the post of Mayor was a nominal one merely, though doubtless, 
 as in the sketch, the personality of an individual might on 
 occasion add lustre to the office. He was presumably chosen by 
 the freemen in the first instance, their selection being afterwards 
 confirmed by the steward who represented the Lord of the 
 Manor.* 
 
 He would naturally retain his office for a year, and it is 
 improbable that he would ever have been dismissed from his 
 dignified position during his term of service, so that the 
 narrator of the tale was presumably guilty of some exaggeration 
 on this point. 
 
 Court Leets are still occasionally held by the Lord of the 
 Manor or his representative, but the occurrence is rare nowadays, 
 the writer believes, and the business transacted merely formal. 
 
 *In the ancient Borough of Morpeth, for example, the two 
 chief officers were Bailiffs, who were chosen by the Lord of the 
 Manor out of the individuals nominated for the office by the jury. 
 See an interesting article by the well-known North Country Antiquary, 
 Mr. J. C. Hodgson, in a former number of the Archaeologia Aeliana, 
 concerning the Court Leet and Court Baron of Morpeth. 
 
THE LAST 
 MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH. 
 
 There are no Mayors now at Redburnmouth, 
 and I, for one, keenly feel the loss. 
 
 " Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tarn cari 
 capitis" I murmured to myself, as, passing beside 
 two fishermen engaged in ' barking ' their nets, I 
 overheard the one overwhelm the other with an 
 " as wor last Mayor said ti the mugger." 
 
 The Mayors of Redburnmouth must have 
 
 been as witty a race as the former masters of 
 
 Baliol College, Oxford, thought I, if all tales be 
 
 true that are told of them, and I fell to speculating 
 
 upon the cause of the latter-day decay of wit in 
 
 P 
 
210 THE LAST MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH. 
 
 the village. The staggering retort that left an 
 opponent to squirm helplessly, as though upon a 
 spit, before the encircling fire of a tap-room 
 audience has given place to cheap tu-quoque or 
 anaemic innuendo, and the broad jest that tickled 
 either rib has vanished with the hustings. 
 
 Upon a further reflection I was fain to 
 conclude that this decay was coincident with the 
 first appearance in the land of " tied houses," and 
 the thin potations against which Falstaff so 
 gallantly took his stand. That, taken in con- 
 junction with the fact that British brewers now-a- 
 days brew their malt from foreign barley, will 
 account for the phenomenon, and my brow cleared, 
 for I perceived the problem to be of the "This is 
 the house that Jack built " order. 
 
 Tied houses and foreign barley mean cheap 
 beer and agricultural depression, and agricultural 
 depression means the decay of wit and the death 
 of the merry man. 
 
 I turned as I reached the conclusion of my 
 argument, and shortly found myself passing again 
 
THE LAST MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH . 211 
 
 beside the barking-pot. One of the men had gone; 
 the other was he who had quoted the Mayor of 
 Redburnmouth, and as he was slightly known to 
 me, I gave him " Good-day," and soon had him on 
 the trail. 
 
 " Ay, he was a char'cter, sartinly, was the last 
 Mayor — Bob Gallon, as he was called in private 
 life, tho' after he got his elevation there was no 
 privacy about him ony mair — even the missus an' 
 the bairns had ti call him Mistor Mayor as he lay 
 iv his bed when doon wi' the chickenpox." 
 
 " What sort of an appearance had he ? ' I 
 enquired, "a bit stout probably, and pompous* as 
 well, I suppose ? " 
 
 " We divvn't call the same man big an' little 
 i' the same breath, do ye? If sae we must just 
 send ye back ti the Collidge ti gie ye a bit mair 
 eddication," came the unexpected retort from my 
 companion, whose fame far and near as a wit was 
 
 *To make Straughan's misunderstanding quite clear to the reader, 
 it must be pointed out that as in the Northumbrian vernacular, burn is 
 pronounced "born," and bird, "bord," so pump should be pronounced 
 "pomp." Straughan, that is, understood pompous to be the adjective 
 of pump. 
 
212 THE LAST MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH. 
 
 rather due to the swiftness than to the intrinsic, 
 value of his repartees, and was largely aided by a 
 well assumed air of irascibility. 
 
 " Stoot, ye call him ? ay, nobody who ivvor 
 saw him could deny that, but as for his bein' like 
 a pump, wey, that's parfickly ridic'lous. There 
 was once a laddie, standin' iv his mother's door- 
 way, seen him comin' alang doon the street, gets 
 quite a gliff at him, and makes in tiv his mammy 
 wiv a * Coom here, mammy, coom here ! why, there's 
 a man wV bairn comin' alang doon the street /' 
 
 Jim Straughan rarely smiled ; to have done so 
 would have been to mar the artistic pose of the 
 jester, but I observed his lower lip to tremble 
 slightly, somewhat resembling a setter's when 
 drawing closer to a point — and I knew he was to- 
 day in proper raconteur vein. 
 
 I drew out my tobacco pouch, and handed it 
 to him, as I sat myself down against the cauldron. 
 He took it, sniffed it suspiciously, rubbed a goodly 
 portion of it together between his palms, then 
 thrust the quid into his cheek, as he remarked. 
 
THE LAST MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH. 213 
 
 " Ye'll be like the rest o' the gentle-folk ! ye'll hev 
 no stomack? wey, if I'd a bairn o' my own I'd gie 
 it some o' that sort o' baccy for pap !" 
 
 " Well, you were saying the Mayor was stout," 
 I suggested, after apologizing for the short-com- 
 ings of my tobacco, "and I suppose he was a 
 ready-witted fellow into the bargain ? " 
 
 " Ow, ay, he wasn't yen o' thae fellers who 
 stand wi' their mouth open like a codling's waitin' 
 for someone ti put somethin' intiv it, whenivvor 
 anyone had a joke at him. 
 
 " No, no, he had always plenty wind iv his sails, 
 an' a ship-ahoy sort ov a voice when vexed, sae 
 that it wasn't often he was bestid iv an argyment. 
 
 " Wey, there was onst a page-laddie cam up 
 frae the big Hall wiv a letter for him, an' as 
 he waits for his answor he nottices that the Mayor 
 was holdin' it wrang side up, sae he mentions 
 it tiv him. Well, the Mayor just gies him a look 
 o' scorn, an' he says, as proud as a prince, ' Thoo 
 little scrag o' ignorance ! ' says he, ' an' dis thoo 
 think I wud be fit to be Mayor o' Redburninouth 
 
214 THE LAST MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH. 
 
 if I cudn't read any side up ? ' Gallon was his 
 name," continued my informant reflectively, " an' 
 gallon was his nature, for he was a grand hand at 
 the beer ; no little bit bottles, aal cork an' label, 
 for him, but a right good sup oot ov a barr'l, an' 
 I fairly b'lieve that if aal the liquor he'd ivvor put 
 doon that big neck ov his was gethor'd tegither it 
 wud mak' a monnyment for him as big as Dor'nr 
 Cathedral. It was a fine thing ti see him comin' 
 alang doon the street, aal sails set, bowsprit well 
 oot, sweepin' aal the little boys frae before him, 
 just like flies, an' not even a tarrier pup darin' 
 ti bark at him. A scarlet-faced sort o' chep he 
 was, wi' fat eyes, an' a nose like a door-knocker ; 
 one o' thae sort that go pop, ye ken, at the finish, 
 like a bottle o' beer i' the summer-time. 
 
 " We aal hed a bit laugh at him behind his 
 back, ye ken, for he was a real comic, yet for 
 aal that we wor tarr'ble sorry for him when he 
 had the Mayorship ta'en frae him at the finish. 
 It's my belief it fair killed him. 
 
 * Durham, 
 
THE LAST MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH . 215 
 
 " It fell oot this way," continued Straughan. 
 " There was always a great dinner eftor the Court 
 Leet had finished its sittin' ; the Earl's Com- 
 missioner cam' doon tiv it an' the Piper as weel, 
 sometimes a Judge an' aal, an' there was always 
 two bottles o' wine sent doon frae the Castle for 
 each o' the comp'ny — one bottle o' sherry wine, 
 an' one o' port. 
 
 " After that, they would call upon the latest 
 freeman, or any furrinors that might be there, for 
 a fresh booze — whisky or such-like — an' on one 
 excuse or the other they always managed ti get a 
 skinful o' liquor each at the finish. 
 
 " It was always tarr'ble thirsty wark at a Court 
 Leet, ye ken, for the law — wey, she's a proper 
 liquor-god, I's warn'd. 
 
 " Well, when the time corned for what was left 
 o' the guests ti gan home, there was a difficulty i' 
 gettin' them fairly sorted into the wheel-barrers 
 that was waitin' 'em ootside, an' the Mayor havin' 
 tried to stow hissel an' his corporation into the 
 largest o' them wivoot ony success, sits hissel 
 
216 THE LAST MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH. 
 
 doon on the Alehouse step at the finish, an' calls 
 tiv a laddie ti gan home an' bring up the Mayor's 
 coach, as he called it, for ' damn thae wheel- 
 barrers,' says he, ' they're no use at all to me.' 
 It was only his own carrier's cart, ye ken, but the 
 Mayor, bein' always a great stickler for propriety 
 at a leet dinner, he prefers to call it a coach. 
 
 " After a bit, up rumm'les the cart, an' wiv a 
 good bit o' heavin' an' haulin' frae the by-standers, 
 doon he flops into the bottom ov it. 
 
 " There was some fisher-lads hangin' aboot the 
 public though, as it chanst, an' they think they'll 
 fool the Mayor a bit, sae they oots wi' the aad 
 horse, an' drags the cart up an' doon the village, 
 till at the finish they gets tired o' the job, an' 
 leaves the cart standin' i' the middle o' the road 
 wi' the Mayor snorin' awa' i' the inside, happy as 
 Punch. 
 
 " Nex' mornin', when he wakes up, he finds 
 hissel quite in a quandary, as one may say, for he 
 isn't in his own bed at aal, but strandid, in a cart 
 wivoot a horse, right i' the middle o' the highway. 
 
THE LAST MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH. 217 
 
 Well, he sits up, an' he rubs his eyes, an' he 
 searches aboot for his horse; not bein' there it 
 was a reg'lor conundrum for him, sae he sinks 
 doon again sayin' solemn-like, ' If Fs the Mayor 
 o' Redburnmouth, 1 says he, ' I've lost a horse, but if 
 I isn't the Mayor, wey, then I've fund a cart!' 
 
 " Mevvies it wud aal hev passed off wiv a laugh, 
 but there was some two or three strict faced 
 methodies 'mongst the freemen at that time, an' 
 they kicked up such a hurly-burly ower it that at 
 the finish they gets a resolution passed that he 
 wasn't a fit an' proper person ti be the Mayor, an' 
 sae they has him disposed, for, says they, over- 
 lookin' the calibre o' the man, 'Wey couldn't he 
 gan home quietly an' cannily like the rest o' the 
 comp'ny, iv his wheel-barrer, stead o' settin' 
 hissel' up for somebody oot o' the common, an' 
 scandalizin' the whole community that fashion?' 
 An' sae the poor fellow, scarce knowin' hissel' noo 
 that he was plain James Gallon, an' nae longer 
 Mistor Mayor, he takes the hump, an' very shortly 
 afterwards is found dead iv his bed i' the mornin', 
 
218 THE LAST MAYOR OF REDBURNMOUTH. 
 
 an' since that time ti this," concluded my 
 informant, " Redburnmouth has been vvivoot a 
 Mayor, an' sae will continue noo, I doubt, till 
 Judgment Day cooms roon." 
 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Looking in at the Heathtown auction-mart I cast 
 my eyes round upon the motley throng of farmers, 
 dealers, butchers, and their dishevelled attendants, 
 and soon espied an old acquaintance of mine, 
 Farmer Newton to wit, Guardian, District 
 Councillor, and, what was perhaps more important 
 still to my mind, the Burke or Debrett of all that 
 farming country-side. 
 
 There was scarce a shepherd up or down the 
 vale but he was acquainted with him, and, did you 
 but give him time. — " Bide a wee," he would say, 
 and put his hand to his whisker's edge, — could 
 
224 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 tell you not only where he came from, but who his 
 forebears were, and whether he had " a bit " in the 
 old bank or not, together with some little artistic 
 details of the man's private or business career 
 which gave a more vivid picture than any the 
 combined efforts of an Ulster King of Arms and 
 a family lawyer could produce. 
 
 His eye shortly caught mine across the 
 crowded ring, and his face beamed upon me at the 
 distance, welcome gradually broadening thereon 
 as the light-house lamp new lit slowly extends its 
 line of light. 
 
 I made my way to him through the throng, 
 waiting for the hammer's fall and the clearance 
 of the "lot," before disturbing him, for the 
 auction-mart is the farmer's stock-exchange, and 
 I knew he would be following the bidding figure 
 by figure, comparing the sheep with the prices 
 now offering, and those again with the quotations 
 of the last few years. 
 
 " Well, an' hoo are ye ? " he cried heartily, 
 as, the moment the gate was opened, he turned, 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 225 
 
 and, seizing me by the hand, held me at a distance 
 in order to obtain a clearer view apparently, for 
 after a few moments of veterinary inspection, he 
 pronounced his verdict, " Ay, ye're aal right — 
 naethin' wrang wi' ye', save belike ye've been 
 tobaccerin' yorsel ower muckle." 
 
 He himself hated to smoke, preferring to take 
 his tobacco "cold," in the form of "sneeshing," 
 off the broad end of a small horn spoon. 
 
 "Who's that tall man opposite?" I asked 
 presently, after having made my enquiry concern- 
 ing "the Mistress" and the "family." A tall 
 fellow opposite, with a short ruddy beard and 
 extraordinarily keen, quick eyes, had caught my 
 attention ; he seemed to mark every detail of the 
 scene around him, now swiftly dropping a 
 remark to a friend, now making a bid on his own 
 account. 
 
 " He don't look as though he'd be easy to 
 
 take in," I continued, " but the short round-faced 
 
 little man next him has every appearance of being 
 
 what I believe you call a ' mug." : "A moog," 
 
 Q 
 
226 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 corrected my companion, following the direction 
 of my nod. His countenance grew radiant as soon 
 as he saw whom I had meant to indicate, and, 
 merriment gradually assuming larger proportions, 
 he was eventually forced to slap his thigh to 
 relieve his feelings. 
 
 " A moog, ye said ? well, there's ithers have 
 thought that before ye," and he gave the deep 
 chuckle of inward amusement. 
 
 " Well, what are their names ? " I enquired a 
 little testily, for one doesn't care about amusing 
 people to that immoderate extent unless with a 
 deliberate intention. 
 
 " The names is Demon an' Pit," he commenced 
 with his mouth still agog with laughter, but 
 suddenly broke off, for the gate here opened, and a 
 flock of three-part bred ewes scurried palpitating 
 in. " Whist," he added briefly, " I'll tell ye the 
 whole story after; just bide a wee till I've had my 
 bid for this hirsel — they're a grand lot, the best o' 
 the year." 
 
 " Demon and Pit ! " I murmured to myself, 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. "in 
 
 as I marked the animated bidding, and the wand 
 of the white-robed auctioneer suspended in mid- 
 air at a sudden bid when just upon the rostrum. 
 
 " At thirty-nine and six — at thirty-nine and 
 six — going — go — ," " And ninepence," came a 
 spasmodic jerk from my companion arresting the 
 fatal fall at the ultimate moment. "At thirty-nine 
 and ninepence — " the auctioneer intoned afresh, 
 and the whole business commenced again. 
 
 " Demon and Pit," I murmured once more. 
 " I wonder what on earth that means. Nothing 
 diabolical, I hope ; more probably a mispronun- 
 ciation merely, and a case of Damon and Pythias 
 in Arcadia." 
 
 My companion here turned to me again, 
 having apparently effected his purchases, and said, 
 " Well, that's none sae bad, for I was expectin' I'd 
 have tae screw oot another shillin', an' shillin's 
 these hard times are none too easy tae come by. 
 But ye'll ken naethin' aboot that," and here he 
 nicked me with his elbow, for 'tis an ancient 
 
228 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 farmer's affectation that nobody but himself feels 
 the effect of low prices and dwindling trade. 
 
 " I'll just have tae be for settin' awa hame, for 
 there's one o' them co-operative society waremen 
 comin' tae buy some young porkers this afternoon. 
 Can I gie ye a cast i' my trap ?" 
 
 "Thanks, I'll come so far with you," I 
 replied, "and then I can take the train home 
 afterwards." 
 
 We went off together to the Inn, leaving his 
 " man Tom " to arrange for the driving of the 
 "yowes" home, and were shortly afterwards 
 bowling along in a smart white-chapel with a good 
 looking horse between the traces, which my 
 companion, having first with all apparent simplicity 
 pointed out his virtues, at once proceeded to try 
 to sell to me. 
 
 "I believe," I replied laughingly, "there's 
 nothing you farmers wouldn't sell ; scarce wife or 
 child would be secure in your hands." " Well," 
 said he thoughtfully, as he slowly undid the knot 
 in the lash of his whip, " a large price is always 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 229 
 
 tempting, an' I ken some wives that would be well 
 sold hooever little siller ye got for 'em." 
 
 I treasured this up as a " bonne bouche " 
 for Mrs. Newton, not knowing at the time that 
 this was his favourite joke, and one which, when 
 duly brought to her ears invariably elicited the 
 impromptu rejoinder which for years had shaken 
 the vale with laughter. 
 
 " But, come," I said, " tell me about Farmers 
 Demon and Pit, or rather Damon and Pythias, 
 which I take to be the more correct rendering." 
 
 "What's that ye call them?" he enquired, 
 bending an ear to me. " Damon and Pythias," 
 I replied, "two men renowned in Greek literature, 
 as I have always understood, for the tenacity of 
 their friendship." 
 
 " Damon an' Pythias," he echoed. "Ay, 
 that'll be correct noo, for ye shud ken, bein' a 
 scholar belike. It was the schoolmaster gied 
 them the names, but as nae-body else quite 
 kenned wha the bodies were, or what it shud 
 signify, we just swapped it for Demon an' Pithy- 
 
230 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 ass, for the one was a tarr'ble feller at a bargain, 
 a reg'lor demon tae trade wi', while t'ither was 
 a fair ass tae look at ootwardly, but wiv a pithy 
 way o' puttin' things that fair made ye doot that 
 in spite o' nature he mun have suthin' inside o' 
 his head-piece after aal. 
 
 " Well, them twa's just a pair o' cronies noo, 
 always tegither, an' ye canna speak a word agen 
 the one wivoot the ither takin' ye up on the 
 moment. 
 
 " It was quite anither pair o' shoes though 
 at the beginnin' when the littl'un first come up 
 this watterside, an' when Davison claps eye on 
 him he thinks tae hissel, ' here's a fiat, an I'll 
 have the skinnin' on him.' 
 
 " Ye see he was a ship-captain tae trade origin- 
 ally, an' had saved a bit siller, an' bein' always 
 fond o' animals, detarmines tae set hissel up as 
 a farmer. He had had a bad illness at sea, it 
 seems, that had affected his tongue a wee, sae 
 that when he spoke it was wi' a sort o' thickness, 
 almost a stutter. That made folk think less o' 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 231 
 
 him than ever, though after a bit when we'd 
 got tae ken him a bit better we suspected it was 
 far mair under his control than he wud let on tae. 
 
 " His farm marched wi' Davison's, ye ken, sae 
 it was likely the twa wud have some dealin's 
 tegither. Well, the first bit o' business Middle- 
 mass had wi' Davison was when he bought some 
 cows aff him, thinkin' tae set up a small dairy. 
 He bought them at the mart as "warranted" by 
 Davison, which means, ye ken, that they shud 
 be aal right i' the udder an' quiet tae milk i' the 
 byre. Noo, nae farmer ever I heard tell on 
 accepts a guarantee like yon wivoot takin' the 
 coos intae the byre by the mart side straight awa 
 an' see if aal's correct as on the caird. If they're 
 no quiet, then he gans back tae the auctioneer, 
 maks his complaint, an' the bargain's cried off 
 unless an agreement's come tae betwixt them. 
 
 " But Middlemass, bein' simple tae it aal, just 
 drives them awa' hame, an' when he starts tae 
 milk finds oot that twa o' them's just awfu' 
 kickers. It was too late i' the day then tae get 
 
232 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 ony satisfaction for't, but he reproaches Davison 
 wi' it, an' says he'd taken his word as a friend 
 for the coos, an' didn't think o' tryin' them at the 
 mart, thinkin' he'd vex him belike by showin' any 
 suspicion o' him. 
 
 "'Man,' says Davison i' reply, slapping the 
 other on the back, ' the coos is aal right ; it'll be 
 you that's got wrang wi' them. I bet a croon noo 
 that ye thought yorsel' on board ship again an' 
 pulled on tae they tits as thoo' they'd been halyards,' 
 says he. ' An' again,' says he, vary grave like, 
 but wi' a sort o' wink in 's eye, • coos is narvious 
 animals, an' cannet abide bein' hannelled by any- 
 one that has a stutter o' any kind. But if ye're 
 dissatisfied,' he continues, ' I'll tell ye what I'll 
 do for ye. You're wantin' a horse, I hear, tae ride 
 aboot the country-side wi', an' have a day wi' 
 hounds, noo an' again. Well I've got just what ye 
 want — one that'll suit ye tae the vary ground, for ye 
 can hunt him, ride him, trap him, an' gie him an 
 odd day i' the hay-rake i' the summer time. Its 
 money i' yor pocket wi' a horse o' that sort, an' 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 233 
 
 as ye're feelin' a bit dissatisfied aboot the coos 
 seemin'ly, I'll tak' five pounds aff his proper price, 
 an' let ye have him for fifty.' 
 
 " Well Middlemass wasn't quite sae gleg this 
 time, but finally seein' the horse, an' him 
 bein' guaranteed sound i' limb, wind, an' eye, an' 
 risin' six, buys him for the money. 
 
 " Not wantin' him just at the time tae ride, he 
 turns him oot wi' some brood mares he has in a field, 
 wivoot ever discoverin', it appears, that the horse 
 was a stallion. Well, as ye may imagine, there 
 was just a proper Sherrymuir* i' that field vary 
 shortly, it was a case o' dot an' carry one, as ye may 
 say," he added after a pause, his face beaming 
 round upon me — not unlike a scholar's when he has 
 discovered a happy rendering of a difficult passage 
 — as he repeated his phrase with satisfaction. 
 
 " There was nae remedy ava for Middlemass, 
 hooever, for naturally he shud have ta'en the 
 trouble tae inspect the horse a bit before layin' doon 
 
 * Sherrymuir, a confusion; this is a memory of the Battle of 
 Sheriffmuir, and in the West Country is still used occasionally by the 
 older generation in this signification. 
 
234 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 his siller, an' the guarranty was a perfectly guid 
 ane. 
 
 " Not bein' the kind o' feller though tae just sit 
 doon an' let hissel be trodden on by anither body, 
 he keeps his silence for a while, ponderin' hoo he 
 might get the better o' Davison at the finish." 
 
 " Well," I here interrupted smiling, " I'm 
 glad I'm not a farmer, for what with agricultural 
 depression, and the certainty of being done brown, 
 or skinned, as you truthfully put it, by my neigh- 
 bours, the Bankruptcy Court would shortly 
 extinguish the promise of my early career." 
 
 " Ay," responded my companion gleefully, 
 " nae doot it wud, for, mind ye, it's the same at 
 farmin' as at ither trades — tae be o' any use you 
 mun put in an apprenticeship at it, for ye canna 
 tak' anythin' oot wivoot puttin' somethin' intilt — 
 an' the amatoor gent mun pay his footin' the 
 warld ower. I'm not sayin' tho' that Davison 
 isn't a bit too keen on a bargain, but farmers mun 
 live, an' it isn't aye wise tae tell mair o' the truth 
 than may be necessary. 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 235 
 
 " Folks are aye tremenjus vartuous aboot hoo 
 ither bodies conduck their business, but i' the 
 long run it's just sax o' one an' haa'f a dozen o' 
 th' ither. 
 
 " There's you Bankers, for instance, ye ne'er 
 tak' muckle trouble tae find oot, when a body dies 
 leavin' a bit siller i' the Bank, wha's his relations, 
 not ye, aal ye do is tae bide a wee, then ye trouser 
 the lot wivoot sae muckle as a ' thank-ye ' for it. 
 
 " The time I was ta'en in warst mysel' was by 
 a Scotch Elder, one o' thae grizzled, godly sort ye 
 ken, wi' their mooth aal full o' special Providence 
 an' the like, an' he sells me a young horse that 
 went dead lame wi' navicular i' sax months time. 
 ' He's sound as a bell,' says he, ■ for I've bred 
 him mysel' oot o' a sire and dam baith weel kennt 
 tae me,' says he, ' tak' my word for't that's an 
 Elder o' the Kirk,' an' he looked that pious that I 
 felt 'twould be a'most as bad as breakin' a 
 commandment tae doot him. 
 
 " Belike he was sound at the moment just off 
 the grass, but navicular's a hereditary disease ye 
 
236 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 ken, like ring-bone, or side-bone, or consumption 
 i' humans, aal it requires tae produce it 's ' an 
 excitin' cause,' as the vets say." 
 
 " The heart of man from his youth up," quoted 
 I, " is deceitful and desperately wicked." 
 
 " Ay, ay, sae 'tis, an' ye shud ken, nane 
 better," and jogging me with elbow and hand 
 simultaneously, he shook the cart with laughter 
 over the wit of his primaeval tu-quoque. " But 
 come," said I, after an interval, " I want to hear, 
 not the deceitfulness of Scotch Elders — that's a 
 stock subject the world over — but whether 
 Middlemass took the change out of Davison 
 or not." 
 
 " Well, Middlemass was vary fond o' animals, 
 as I said before," replied my companion, " an" 
 was a bit o' a dog-man, an' breeder i' addition, 
 an' the best thing he had was a greyhound bitch, 
 a clivvor, well-ribbed up, lang-legged bit o' dog's 
 flesh as e'er I saw, which he thought a great deal 
 on, an' Davison, as it chan'st had anither o' the 
 greyhound breed, only a dog, which he always 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 237 
 
 said was the best i' England, an' wud have won 
 the Waterloo Cup had he had the time tae train 
 him properly. 
 
 " Now, Middlemass, as I tell't ye, was a deal 
 craftier nor he looked, sae he doesn't let on 'at 
 he was vexed aboot the coos an' the stallion, but 
 laughs it aff if anyone chaffs him aboot it, an' 
 always is partic'lor civil tae Davison. After a 
 while he begins tae brag a bit aboot his bitch, an' 
 natorally it comes tae Davison's lang ears, wha 
 natorally thinks he has a chance o' anither soft 
 thing on for hissel. 
 
 "Sae next time he comes across Middlemass 
 he begins chaffin' on aboot the bitch an' aal, an' 
 Middlemass he pretends he disna ken what he's 
 after, but at the finish he flares up i' a sort o' 
 passion seemin'ly at his bitch bein' laughed at, an' 
 stutters oot that she's the "b-b-best b-b-bitch i' 
 the world," an' he'll match her for anythin' the 
 other likes tae name. 
 
 " ' Fifty guineas, eh ?' says Davison, sharp as 
 a knife, havin' led up tae't all alang. 
 
238 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 " ' Ay,' says Middlemass, ' f-f-fifty, if ye like.' 
 
 " ' Done wi' ye,' cries Davison, holdin' oot his 
 hand, which Middlemass, after a grimace or twa, 
 as tho' he was sorry for what he'd said, slowly 
 taks, kind o' half unwillin' like. Davison said 
 afterwards that he was a mug not tae have made 
 it a hundred, but he was better satisfied wi' his 
 moderation at the finish. 
 
 " Well, they made up the match for a stretch 
 o' 200 yards on the Fairgreen Haugh, Middlemass' 
 stipulation that the dog an' bitch shud be twenty 
 yards apart at the startin', for she was a bit shy 
 seemin'ly, an' that he shud be allowed the use o' 
 the whistle, tae aal which Davison agrees wivoot 
 a demur, for the on'y thing he was narvious aboot 
 was that Middlemass shud gang back on his 
 proposal. When the day that was fixed for the 
 match came there was a big comp'ny got tegither 
 on Fairgreen Haugh — for we aal like a bit o' sport 
 up this watterside, ye ken, — every man Jack o' us 
 ready tae lay his bit siller on Davison's dog, for 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 239 
 
 naebody thought the bitch had a chance o' 
 winnin\ 
 
 "Three o'clock was the time fixed, but lang 
 before that Davison was on the ground leadin' his 
 dog aboot, an' showin' him aff — everybody par- 
 tic'lor civil tae him, wiv an eye belike tae 'what'll 
 ye tak' ' at the public afterwards. 
 
 " Middlemass on the ither hand disna put in an 
 appearance till just on the stroke o' the hour, an' 
 some o' us was beginnin' ti think he'd have tae 
 forfeit, when he drove up wi' his lad behind 
 nursin' the bitch aal wrap up i' cloths, an' rugs an' 
 fallals. 
 
 " He disna say muckle, but stan's the lad an' 
 the bitch awa frae the comp'ny on the haugh, 
 then gans hissel up tae the high end, where the 
 finish was tae be, alangside o' Davison, wha had 
 his dog aal ready stripped i' the care o' his son, a 
 lad o' aboot twenty years aad, an' as keen a 
 nipper as his dad. 
 
 " The starter stood by hissel', at the high end 
 on the line o' twa posts that marked the winnin' 
 
240 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 place, a bit in front o' the rest o' us wha were aal 
 i' a herd tegither there — Middlemass on the left 
 tae the west, an' Davison tae the right. 
 
 " Weel, nae suner had the starter dropped his 
 white handkerchief than the dogs started each a 
 cracker frae the slips — but the curious thing was 
 — an' naebody at first cud grasp the meanin' o't — 
 that the dog just galloped straight across towards 
 the bitch — not heedin' naethin' o' it's bein' a race 
 for him — an' almost bools her ower i' his eagerness 
 as he comes tearin' up behind her. She sort o' 
 half comes doon on her hunkers, gies a bit look 
 round, sort o' half surprised-like, an' yaps at the 
 dog wi' her teeth, then oot rings Middlemass' 
 whistle, an' up she loups again straight as an 
 arrow tae the sound, her back bending a'most 
 double an' her legs stretching oot grand. 
 
 "There wasn't a sound uttered as we stood 
 there quite dumb wi' amazement, when aal o' a 
 sudden the situation flashed upon me i' a wink. 
 
 " * Wey,' cries I aloud, 'be d d if the bitch 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 241 
 
 ain't in season,' says I, haw-hawin' wi' laughter 
 till the tears ran doon my cheek. 
 
 " ' The dam scoondrel,' I hears Davison 
 mutter, an' stands there wi' his brow black as a 
 thunderstorm, for o' course the dog wouldn't run 
 a yard by hissel, but just followed the bitch aal 
 the way, gambollin' first this side an' then that. 
 
 " Weel, some o' us thought there wud have 
 been murder that afternoon, an' I b'lieve there 
 wud have been if there hadn't been a lot o' us 
 there tae separate the twa men. 
 
 " ' What d'ye mean, ye d d, welshin', south- 
 country swindler ? ' says Davison, slowly, i' a 
 choked sort o' voice, as he marches up tae him, the 
 race bein' ower, ' by runnin' a bitch for a match 
 when she's i' season ? ' says he, an' clenches his 
 fists at him. ' It's not a match at aal ; it's a 
 humbug, an' a Jew's trick, an' the wager 's aff 
 unless it's won again fairly.' 
 
 " Middlemass looks at him parfectly quiet-like, 
 
 tho' there was a bit sparkle i' his eye maybe, an' 
 
 he says, ' I b'lieve,' says he, ' ye are a f-f-farmer ?' 
 
 R 
 
242 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 Fancy that noo, wasn't it capital ? " here broke 
 off my companion, showing symptoms of an on- 
 coming apoplexy of laughter, " belevin' he was a 
 farmer, wey, he kenned that as weel as I did o' 
 course ! " and here Farmer Newton, by way of 
 enforcing the joke, brought his hand down like a 
 sledge-hammer right upon the fleshy part of my leg. 
 
 " Capital," I replied hurriedly, removing my 
 wounded limb, " Capital, and how did he finish 
 his sentence ? " 
 
 " Wey," continued my companion with a 
 gasp, "he says, 'an' bem' a farmer/ says he, ' ye'll 
 likely ken that a bitch comes in tae season as 
 natorally as a horse is born wi' his ornaments on 
 him' — Wi' his ornaments on him!' echoed 
 Farmer Newton at the tail end of a mill-race of 
 laughter. " Gox, but he was a funny one, that 
 feller, ' wi' his o-o-ornaments on him,' he says," 
 and Farmer Newton's hand again performed the 
 sledge-hammer operation, luckily to fall this time 
 upon his own broad territory of thigh. 
 
 ''Well, we aal laughed ootright at that — we 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 243 
 
 cudn't help oorsels, it was sae comic ; for every- 
 body kenned hoo Davison had ta'en him in wi' 
 the stallion he'd sold him. It was tit for tat, an 
 somethin' ower on balance, but Davison he didn't 
 see it i' that light, but mak's straight for him, an', 
 if it hadn't been that we aal closed in roon' aboot 
 him, he'd have struck him there an' then. 
 
 " Hooever wi' good luck an' a bit o' manage- 
 ment, we prevented bloodshed, an' Middlemass 
 vary shortly drives awa' wi' his lad an' the bitch, 
 leaving us an' Davison behind. 
 
 " Well, Davison had tae pay up, o' course, for 
 the stakeholder, wha was also referee, says he 
 cannot withhold the siller, there havin' been no 
 breech ava o' the conditions agreed upon." 
 
 "Well, after that I can't imagine," I here 
 interrupted, " how the two became such fast 
 friends, for Davison wouldn't easily forgive the 
 trick, or the jest that had been played him ! ' 
 
 " Canny noo, canny, Maister John," ex- 
 postulated my companion, "ye townsfolk are aye 
 i' sic a tremenjus hurry — ye're like the insurance 
 
244 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 chap wha will insure the bairn before its born. 
 Hoo it finally cam' aboot I'm just aboot tae tell ye, 
 if ye can haud yor tongue a wee. 
 
 " For the next month or twa they ne'er speaks, 
 the ane tae t'ither ; Davison bein' far ower vexed, 
 an' Middlemass ower proud tae mak' an overture, 
 an' the first time that they did speak tegither after 
 the match didn't promise at aal like creatin' any 
 lastin' affections. 
 
 " Middlemass was oot shootin' on his farm, an' 
 sae was Davison on his, as it chanst, the same 
 day, an' a towerin' partridge o' Middlemass' falls 
 ower the dyke on tae a field o' Davison's. Well, 
 Middlemass he leaves his gun behind him, an' 
 gets ower the dyke, an' searches aboot for his bird. 
 Aal o' a sudden, as he comes roon' by a clump o' 
 trees, he spies Davison at aboot 30 yards distance. 
 
 ' Get oot, ye d d poachin' thief,' cries Davison 
 
 i' a heat. ' Axin' yor pardon for a momentary 
 intrusion,' says Middlemass, ' as soon as I get my 
 bird I will,' an' he points tae the partridge lying 
 dead aboot half-way betwixt them. 
 
FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 245 
 
 "'Get oot, I say,' cries Davison again, the 
 black blood surgin' tae his head, ' its my field.' 
 'An' its my bird,' replies Middlemass, 'sae pardon 
 the trespass, for, accordin' tae the custom o' 
 sportsmen, a shooter is permitted to pick up his 
 game wherever it may be.' 
 
 " Well, I b'lieve the word sportsman — recallin' 
 belike the farmer's match — did the business for 
 Davison. Anyway he just claps up his gun tae 
 his shoulder, an' pulls the piece straight at him. 
 " Phit !" gangs the cap, an' that's aal, for by 
 heaven's kind providence it was a miss-fire. Well, 
 there he stood stock still, tremblin', his anger dead 
 as ashes, an' his gun still ootstretched on his arms, 
 gradually sinking' an' sinkin', as the ither walks 
 straight up tae him, an' says vary quiet-like. ' You 
 c-c-coward,' he says, an' turnin' on his heel, picks 
 up the bird an' walks aff wi' it i' his pocket. 
 
 "Well, late that night there comes a knock at 
 Middlemass' door, an' ganin' oot wha shud he find 
 there but Davison hissel. 
 
 " ' Man,' says he, ' ye're a brave one, a fell 
 
246 FARMERS DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 
 
 brave-hearted man, an' tho' belike ye'll be for 
 prosecutin' me, an' I desarves it, an' hangin' belike 
 in addition, I cudna rest this night till I'd walked 
 ower an' tell't ye my opinion o' ye.' 
 
 "An' noo, Maister John," and here my in- 
 formant momentarily broke off to ask me a 
 question, " What d'ye think Middlemass said in 
 reply to that ? " 
 
 " Shake hands," I replied at a guess. 
 
 " Wey, ye're a clivvorer one than I thought 
 ye," replied Farmer Newton in astonishment, " an' 
 that's exactly what he did say. Hoo did ye guess 
 it?" 
 
 "I give it up," I replied flippantly, "but at 
 any rate I understand how it was that Davison 
 and Middlemass became Damon and Pythias." 
 
 "Ay, an' ye ken that," said Farmer Newton, 
 "because I've tell't ye." 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 At the beginning of this century Geordie Lambert 
 was a well-known character in Oldcastleton, 
 famous at once for his wit and his eccentricities. 
 
 He had begun life as " a pee-dee," had worked 
 his way up till he became the skipper of a keel, 
 and finally, by dint of unremitting attention to 
 business, and the consistent good fortune that 
 usually attends on great ability unswervingly 
 applied, had become coal-fitter to one of the 
 largest collieries in the district. Before his death 
 he had achieved the last object of his ambition by 
 his election to the Company of Hoastmen, which, 
 
252 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 by the way, is the premier Incorporated Company 
 of Oldcastleton, and greatly respected on account 
 of its antiquity. 
 
 With men of this stamp religion is usually 
 narrowed down to some few broad precepts of 
 morality, but it is to be observed that when they 
 do entertain a religious sentiment they are amongst 
 the most consistent of mankind in the support of 
 it. Thus when Geordie Lambert had satisfied 
 himself that the invention of the steam-engine was 
 "agin Scripture," his hatred of it knew no bounds. 
 Horses had been vouchsafed mankind to draw 
 coals to the river-bank ; consequently to " dises- 
 tablish the horse " was an impious act in which 
 he would have neither part nor lot. 
 
 When, again, the genius of man further 
 proceeded to apply the power of steam to shipping, 
 it may be well imagined that he would be almost 
 transported with fury. 
 
 "A puffin' Billy >1: gannin' plodgin,' " he ex- 
 claimed satirically, when he saw for the first time 
 a rude paddle steamer ploughing on the waterway. 
 
 *" Puffin' Billy," one of the earliest locomotives was thus styled. 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 253 
 
 Foreseeing with his natural shrewdness, 
 however, that it would be certain to revolutionize 
 the coal trade, and eventually extirpate the 
 industry of the keelmen, he decided to retire from 
 business rather than run his head against a 
 stone wall by waging useless battle against the 
 enemy. Even in death, though, he protested 
 against the usurpation, and his legacy of £1000 to 
 the keelmen was the form his protest took. 
 
 With a certain grim humour he so devised it 
 that as long as there were two or more keelmen 
 living the yearly interest only was to be divided 
 amongst them, but when there was but one 
 solitary survivor left the principal itself was to be 
 handed over to him on the day of the anniversary 
 meeting of the Keelmen's Society. 
 
 This same fortunate individual was to be 
 allowed to spend the amount just as he would ; 
 he was to be " tang-o'-the-trump," and the more 
 " hoyting " he got out of the legacy the better the 
 testator would be pleased, for he was determined 
 that the last keelman should not depart from this 
 
254 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 life weighed down by melancholia at thought of 
 the triumph of steamers over keels. 
 
 ******* 
 
 A few years ago there was great excitement 
 amongst the dwellers in the Keelmen's Hospital 
 at Oldcastleton, for the tontine fund mentioned 
 above seemed likely to be shortly terminated. 
 
 Owing to the depredations of a severe influenza 
 epidemic the number of keelmen had suddenly 
 sunk in some few months from six to two, and it 
 seemed probable that one or other of these two 
 survivors might shortly join his brethren, for both 
 of them were stricken in years, and influenza is 
 well known for its fierce animosity to ailing and 
 aged humanity. 
 
 Both men were over 80 years of age, and both 
 feeble, though in different degrees. 
 
 " Feythor Noah," as he was commonly called, 
 was the elder of the twain by some six months, 
 and was sorely afflicted by the " the pains " and 
 liver trouble. " Aad Tommie Arkless " on the 
 other hand, was tormented by a chronic cough 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 255 
 
 which at times, and in the winter weather 
 especially, developed such intensity as to make it 
 appear probable that death might suddenly 
 supervene upon a choking fit. 
 
 In temperament again, the two ancients differed 
 widely, for the former was something saturnine, 
 pessimistic, and uncommunicative, whilst the latter 
 was cheery, laughter-loving, and full of gossip. 
 " Feythor Noah " was tall, dyspeptic looking, 
 angular, and thin. " Aad Tommy " was rubicund, 
 warm - complexioned, short, and of softened 
 outline. 
 
 " Tommy " was the general favourite, but the 
 shrewder of watermen, wherrymen, and other 
 habitues of the riverside, who, now that the ancient 
 race of keelmen have so far decayed, also dwell 
 beneath the roof-tree of the Hospital, opined that 
 it was " a shade of odds on Feythor Noah's bein' 
 the survivor, for, bein' a bit tougher, he'd likely 
 clagg on tiv his perch the langest." Still, as it 
 was to all appearance going to be a " near thing," 
 they took care to be equally agreeable to either 
 
256 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 competitor, for naturally there was a " vast o' good 
 liquor iv a thousand pounds." 
 
 " Feythor Noah," however, being something of 
 a cynic, naturally attributed the latter-day sub- 
 servience of his neighbours to that "lively sense 
 of favour to come " which is the only return rich 
 men can ever expect to gain, so we are told, from 
 their benevolences. 
 
 He was stimulated by this reflection to at 
 once outlive his brother craftsman, and to spite 
 his hospital companions by refusing, when he 
 should become eventually possessed of the legacy, 
 to share a penny of it with anyone of them who 
 had ever been guilty of showing him the least 
 civility. 
 
 It was commonly reported that his usual 
 designation was in reality a nickname, having been 
 bestowed upon him some years back by one of the 
 urchins in the building, who, noting that he 
 usually said " No " in answer to a question, had 
 incontinently dubbed him " No-a," and this by 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 257 
 
 corruption had grown, so 'twas said, into the 
 " Feythor Noah " of later days. 
 
 A slight touch of palsy in the muscles of the 
 neck had recently set his head slightly astir from 
 right to left ; and this, uncharitably enough, was 
 at once put down to that same habit of his, too 
 long indulged, of answering enquiries in the 
 negative. 
 
 The two ancients had never seemed to be free 
 from a certain restraint in each other's company — it 
 was rumoured indeed that " Feythor Noah," having 
 failed in the one love affair of his life, had never 
 been able to forgive or forget his rival's triumph ; 
 hitherto there had been no display of animosity 
 between them, but merely a distaste for the other's 
 company. Now, however, that they had once 
 again become rivals — this time for that which, 
 in nine men out of ten, evokes a keener and 
 more lasting passion than ever the love of a 
 woman can create — the distaste seemed likely to 
 increase to positive dislike. Gossips were con- 
 stantly at work carrying what the one said to the 
 
 s 
 
258 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 other's ear, and it was perhaps but natural that 
 these chance sayings should rankle deeper in the 
 breast of " Feythor Noah" than in that of "Old 
 Tommy." 
 
 " Tommy," on one occasion, when some sharp 
 sayings of his rival's had been reported to him, 
 had jocosely replied, that his competitor must 
 evidently be losing heart or he would never be 
 losing his temper in that fashion, and added that 
 he conceived his own "take-it-easy" receipt for 
 health to be more conducive to length of life than 
 the critical and cantankerous habit of the other, 
 concluding with an offer in spite of his " hoast " 
 to " back hissel ti win the brass, for he'd elwis 
 unnerstood he'd been born unner a lucky star." 
 
 He had even been known to chaff old Nannie 
 Taylor, the relict of a former Tyne skipper, who 
 lived in a room on the ground-floor just below 
 his own, on the subject of second marriage, slyly 
 enquiring if she knew of any " douce, canny wife," 
 to suit a lively good-tempered old fellow with a 
 good bit of enjoyment left in him still, who was like 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 259 
 
 to have a grand fortune left him shortly. All 
 which sayings were duly carried to " Noah's " ear 
 with the result that they quite infuriated him. 
 
 If " Tommy " had exercised all his intellect 
 upon the matter it is not probable that the result 
 would have been so good as that produced without 
 intention by the above careless and playful 
 remarks. 
 
 All his life long " Noah's" love-wound had 
 continued to throb, and it was his torment on 
 a sleepless night to think that had he not been 
 so shy and tongue-tied he might have won that 
 which had been for him the jewel of life. This he 
 had secretly discovered later, when his rival's 
 passion in the course of a year or two had sunk 
 to ashes ; for he saw she was soon neglected, 
 though never actually illtreated, for it was not 
 "Tommy's " nature to illtreat any one, and grad- 
 ually he had been able in a quiet undemonstrative 
 way to render her life a little brighter, till 
 somewhat suddenly it flickered out and died. 
 
 Still, it was intolerable to him that her 
 
260 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 memory should be insulted, for so he considered 
 it, by her former husband's marrying again. 
 
 This thought, and the epithet "cantankerous," 
 as applied to himself, amply sufficed to change 
 what had been previously a certain distaste or 
 contempt of the man into a positive dislike, almost 
 bordering on hate. Living solitary, there was not 
 much to divert him from his train of thought, and 
 he grew more and more determined to "pay" 
 "Tommy" for his insolence, to devote himself to 
 his bodily health, outlive his rival, and in some 
 sort have his revenge. 
 
 He went long walks along the river-quay, 
 boasted continually of the vigour of his health, and 
 dolefully wagged his head whenever " Tommy's " 
 " hoast " was mentioned, proclaiming it as his 
 opinion that if that " was'nt a churchyard cough, 
 he'd nivvor heord a one that wes." 
 
 The days gradually passed away, increasing 
 somewhat in severity as the end of the year 
 approached, and it wanted but a week to the 
 anniversary of the Keelmen's Society — the 27th 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 261 
 
 December. Thus there seemed every prospect of 
 the £1000 legacy being deferred into another 
 year. 
 
 " Feythor Noah" had heard, with a sudden leap 
 of the heart, that " Tommy " had been almost 
 " shaken ti kittikats ' by a sudden seizure of 
 coughing ; but he had eventually pulled through, 
 and the weather changing from fog to frost, 
 " Tommy's " chances of the legacy advanced some 
 points in the betting. 
 
 " Feythor Noah " groaned aloud at the thought 
 of the " unconscionable time ' Tommy Arkless ' 
 took a dying." 
 
 All he could do in the circumstances he did ; 
 he nursed himself with additional care, sat down, 
 and grimly waited. 
 
 As he was idling one afternoon about this 
 time, in a small seat in his window corner, he 
 noticed his neighbour next door throw the rinsings 
 of her teapot outside. He noted carelessly that it 
 was freezing, for the sprinkled moisture lay on the 
 steps below him, and he could not fail to see how 
 
262 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 swiftly the drops shrank, splintered, and became 
 white. 
 
 Just at that moment an urchin came running 
 down the steps, caught his heel upon the spot of 
 ice, tripped up, and instantly fell from stair to 
 stair, till he arrived plump at the broad bend of 
 the stairway. 
 
 There he lay howling, for some moments, 
 then as nobody attended to his distress, he thought 
 better of it, gathered himself up and, still inter- 
 mittently howling, proceeded, with one hand 
 clasped to his posterior and the other clinging to 
 the parapet edge, slowly to accomplish the rest of 
 his descent. 
 
 This incident made a great impression on 
 " Feythor Noah's " fancy. " Aad Tommy," he 
 could not help remembering, used often of a fine 
 winter's afternoon to come down these same steps 
 to take a quarter-of-an-hour's walk along the open 
 space that stretched before the south facade of 
 the hospital. 
 
 He would go out perhaps about 3 o'clock, if 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 263 
 
 the sun were shining, and be sure to be back by 
 3.15, before the chill of the afternoon could injure 
 him. Frosty weather seemed to affect him 
 favourably ; snow, fog, and moisture were his 
 chiefest enemies. 
 
 There seemed to be every likelihood of a 
 continuance of frosty weather, and, therefore, of 
 "Tommy's" continuing to take his afternoon walks, 
 and, therefore, again — but at this point " Feythor 
 Noah " shied from any further logical conclusions, 
 and it was not till he was asleep that he saw 
 himself taking his cup of tea rather earlier in the 
 afternoon than usual, and, having rinsed out his 
 teapot, scattering the water with a careless hand 
 from his window to the steps. 
 
 He tried to drive the remembrance of his 
 dream from his mind, but with a burr-like tenacity 
 it maintained its hold, and when the afternoon 
 drew on he found himself almost automatically 
 repeating the operations of his dream. 
 
 The ease with which he found he could hit 
 the mark almost frightened him, and a sudden 
 
264 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 excitement catching hold upon him he was driven 
 to walk about in the cloisters to calm his nerves. 
 
 As he paced to and fro along the uneven 
 flagstones he noticed a fair-haired little maiden 
 proceeding leisurely in front of him. She was 
 walking slowly along, looking this way and that 
 as though the place was strange to her. He had 
 never seen her before in the Hospital, yet somehow 
 or other her appearance appealed to him very 
 sensibly, he knew not why. He followed her 
 slowly till she drew near to the outside stairs 
 where she halted, and as he drew near turned to 
 him appealingly, " Have 'oo seen g'andpa," she 
 said, " I's to fetch him in, Aunt Polly says." 
 
 Aunt Polly? murmured "Feythor Noah" to 
 himself in some astonishment, for Polly was the 
 name as he knew, of " Tommy's " sister who 
 "kept house" for him. "Aunt Polly? Why, 
 where have you come from, little one ?" he 
 exclaimed, without answering her question. " I's 
 not little," the small mite responded disdain- 
 fully, " I's a big gal now, an' I's corned right 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 265 
 
 back over the seas to take care o' g'andpa. Mother 
 told me to before she died, and I's given my 
 promus." 
 
 " Was then, — can you remember, I mean," 
 replied her interrogator eagerly, " by any chance 
 whether your father ever called your mother 
 ' Bonnie Bella.' " 
 
 " Sometimes he did when he was pleased with 
 her, and had made some dollars, but oftener he 
 was nasty and wouldn't speak to us, and he had a 
 bad face, had father, and we were glad when he 
 left us and went away. Aunt Polly says he was a 
 " bad egg,'' she added confidentially. " Do you 
 think," she enquired, " that he'll ever turn into a 
 chicken and have his neck wrung?" 
 
 " Feythor Noah ' was so occupied with his 
 own thoughts that he probably did not heed the 
 little maid, at any rate she continued to gaze at 
 him expectantly, then suddenly loosing patience, 
 she thrust her hand into his, crying, " Come 
 along, I like zoo. Come and help me find g'andpa! 
 
266 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 He's old, like zoo is, but he has red cheeks like 
 my dolly." 
 
 The old man followed her obediently, his mind 
 in a whirl. He was once more 25 years of age, and 
 passionately in love with the little maid's grand- 
 mother, of whom day and night he still continually 
 thought. She had something of her mother about 
 her, whom he remembered well in her early youth, 
 but she was the very picture of her grandmother, 
 his first and only love ; the same hair and eyes, 
 the same small mouth, and the very identical, 
 quaint, arch way of talk. 
 
 " Ay, come along," he said at last, as he 
 roused himself from his reverie, " Come along, 
 and we'll find g'andpa. 
 
 " You're just like your grannie," he continued 
 presently, " but you never saw her. I have a 
 photograph of her though, done when she was 
 young, which resembles you nearly. Would you 
 like to see it ?" 
 
 " 'Ees," said the little maid in reply. " Shew 
 it me." So they turned, and retraced their steps 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 267 
 
 to the old man's room upstairs ; the little maid 
 sitting demurely in the arm chair, while her 
 companion searched for the photograph. 
 
 " Here it is," he said shortly, as he gravely 
 handed it to his visitor, " An' don't you think its 
 like you ?" 
 
 " 'Ees," she replied, after gazing at it closely 
 for a minute or more : " it is ; but she wasn't 
 prettier nor me, was she ?" " She grew more and 
 more lovely as time crept on, little one," the old 
 man responded, and there was a far away look in 
 his eyes, " but at your age perhaps she was not 
 even quite so bonny as yourself. How old are 
 you ? Five ?" he hazarded. " No, six," the little 
 maid answered swiftly, then leant back contentedly 
 in her chair, and smoothed her frock over her 
 knees. " I like zoo, though zoo has such a funny 
 shaky head ; zoo's a nice man," she added shortly, 
 " and when I's a heiress I'll give zoo a p'essent." 
 
 " When you're an heiress ! " he echoed, " but 
 your father never made any money ? " 
 
 " Ah, but it's going to be through g'andpa," 
 
268 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 she replied, " he's going to be rich one day, zoo 
 knows." 
 
 A scowl lay over the old man's brow at these 
 words, and it was evident that he only just 
 contrived to stay his tongue on the brink of some 
 angry retort. After a minute or two, however, the 
 scowl passed, and a smile lit his features, as he 
 murmured, " Ay, thou'lt be an heiress perhaps, 
 little one, some day, but not through him ; but 
 what is an heiress ? " he asked out-loud. 
 
 " She wont look at the boys who has bare 
 feet, and she has hot meat for her dinner every 
 day, and she goes to the pantomime," she began 
 swiftly, as one who had long studied for a pro- 
 fessional career, "but come azong," she broke off 
 abruptly as she rose to her feet, " and find g'andpa, 
 for he said he would wait till I'd come." 
 
 " Come along then," replied " Noah," holding 
 out his hand, and the two quaint figures toddled 
 off together down the cloister again. 
 
 They reached the steps together, the little maid 
 slightly in front, she reached out her foot for the 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 269 
 
 edge of the step, slipped, and almost fell, for the 
 air was keen with frost, and the steps wore a 
 coating of ice. 
 
 Then the old man remembered. 
 
 " Stay, stay a moment, little one ! " he implored 
 eagerly, and checking her further advance he 
 stooped to pick her up. " Its slippy, an' you 
 might fall an' break your neck, so I must just 
 carry you down so far." 
 
 " No, no, zoo's not to," cried the little maid 
 resentfully, " I's a big gal now, put me down at 
 once," and therewith she struggled manfully with 
 arm and leg against the old man's clasp. 
 
 The old man, fearful of hurting her, but 
 determined not to put her down upon that slippery 
 trap, took no heed of her appeal, but proceeded as 
 cautiously as he could to descend the stairs. He 
 could scarce see the steps, however, as his burden 
 tossed rebelliously this way and that, and suddenly 
 he staggered. To have released one hand from his 
 burden so as to grasp the parapet would have 
 
270 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 been to endanger his little maid, so bravely he 
 tried to regain his balance, and stay his heels upon 
 the slippery edge. One last struggle of the little 
 maid's unluckily supervened. He tottered, swayed, 
 then with arms tight clasped, he lost his heel-hold, 
 and fell heavily backward, down, down the steps, 
 his head beating on the steps as his form slid 
 down, till it came with a dull bump upon the flat 
 pavement at the stair's curve. 
 
 The cries of the little maid, who thus found 
 herself a tight prisoner in his arms, soon roused 
 the neighbours, and a small crowd rapidly gathered 
 together. It was a difficult matter to release the 
 little maid from the encircling grasp of the 
 unconscious man, but no sooner had it been 
 accomplished than he was seen to feebly open his 
 eyes. 
 
 Some kindly woman knelt down beside him, 
 and gently supported his head upon her lap. 
 
 His eyes looked round anxiously, till they 
 found the little maid, who was sitting weeping 
 gently on the stair, "Ay, little maid," he said 
 
THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 271 
 
 audibly, "thou'lt be an heiress, sure enough," and 
 therewith his head fell heavily back again, and the 
 woman beside him alone heard him mutter to 
 himself, " An' now, at last, darlin' Bella, hinny, 
 at last I'm comin' home." 
 
N OTE TO 
 
 THE LAST OF THE KEELMEN. 
 
 Possibly, by diligent search among the Tyneside watermen 
 a "decayed" keelman might yet be discoverable. The "keel" 
 itself, however, has entirely disappeared, and wherries, dragged 
 by tugs, now usurp the waterway. 
 
 " The crew of a keel consisted of the skipper, two bullies, 
 and the pee-dee, who was generally a boy from 12 to 14 years 
 old." (Pee-dee— derivation, TraiSiov?) 
 
 The Hospital was built by the keelmen themselves in 1701, 
 each man paying id. a tide, and is now inhabited by watermen 
 chiefly. There is no such tontine fund as that mentioned in the 
 text, but £5 per annum was formerly distributed to the ten 
 oldest keelmen, as the inscription upon a stone between the club 
 room windows will testify : " In the year 1786 the interest of £100 
 at 5 per cent, for ever, to be annually distributed, on the 23rd 
 day of December, among the ten oldest keelmen resident in the 
 Hospital, was left by John Simpson, Esq., of Bradley, Alderman 
 of this Town, and 40 years Governor of the Hostmen's Company. 
 The grateful objects of his remembrance have caused this stone 
 to be erected, that Posterity may know the Donor's worth, and 
 be stimulated to follow an example so benevolent." 
 
 As to the origin of the term " Hoastman," it is as follows : 
 "An Act of Henry IV. appoints 'hosts' to receive foreign 
 merchants in England. Locally the stranger arriving in the 
 Port of Tyne to buy coals was named 'the oaste,' and the 
 person of whom he purchased the oastman or hostman." — 
 
 Welford's History of Newcastle. 
 
 Nowadays, however, it is the coal-fitter or " fitter," as he is 
 more commonly styled, who " disposes the sales of coal raised 
 in the collieries he fits." 
 
A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 
 
A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 
 
 I came upon him suddenly at a bend of the river, 
 and stood to watch him " thraw the flee " for a 
 minute or two before approaching nearer. 
 
 He was the best fisher in the dale, and had 
 taught himself his craft from his earliest years, 
 developing his genius with the infinite pains that 
 at once betray the artist and eventually repay his 
 toil. 
 
 From the mossy nest on the westering 
 moorland brae where the tiny stream awoke to 
 birth, to the low eastward strand where the grey 
 sea gaped with wide jaw for the brown burn's 
 
278 A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 
 
 flood, he knew every curve and turn — and they 
 are many, for is it not the stream named the 
 Frolic ? — the deep holes where the cunning old 
 trout lie concealed, and the runs where the bull 
 trout hide. 
 
 The stream here was covered over with 
 branches of stunted alder, and the perplexing 
 tangle of the willow, but it made no difference to 
 " Fisher Jim." 
 
 In and out of the maze I saw the long line 
 flash, and the cast descend like thistle down, in 
 a manner that betokened the most wonderful 
 dexterity of hand and eye. 
 
 The trout, however, did not appear to be 
 rising, so I had the fewer scruples in interrupting 
 him. 
 
 "Well," I said, "I fear the fish are not 
 rising to-day — unlike the Vicar, for example, out 
 of whom I hear you got a fine rise last night." 
 The Vicar, by the way, was not altogether a 
 popular personage in the dale ; his piety, though 
 unquestioned, was of a harsh evangelical flavour, 
 
A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 279 
 
 and theology to him was as a bed of Procrustes 
 upon which he would stretch an erring parishioner, 
 wielding dogma as a tomahawk the while the 
 better to adjust him to the couch. 
 
 " Well, I dinna ken aboot that either," replied 
 Jim thoughtfully, " he's a guid man, I b'lieve, is 
 the Vicar ; I've naething tae say against him, 
 beyond that he's ower narrer tae my mind. Any- 
 ways, him an' I, we canna agree." 
 
 " But what was the discussion about last 
 night," I enquired, " Did he insist upon seeing you 
 in church ? ' " Ay, he axed us why it was I didn't 
 come tae kirk, sayin' 'at he always understood I 
 had mair knowledge an' book-larnin' than the rest 
 o' the cottage folk aboot here, and that it was my 
 duty tae show an example, an' set my light up 
 upon a hill, an' sae on, ye ken ! Ye'll hav' heard 
 the like yoursel frae schoolmaister an' ithers o' that 
 kidney i' your time dootless ? 
 
 " ' Well,' I says tae him when he's finished, 
 ' An' why is it ye are sae tarr'ble keen tae hav' me 
 inside o' the kirk door ? Is it for the sake o' my 
 
 / 
 
280 A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 
 
 soul, or because it wud please ye tae hav' anither 
 seat filled ? ' I enquires. 
 
 " Nae man," says he, " can abstain frae 
 attendin' Divine Service, and neglect the plain 
 ordinance o' the Church without grave peril tae his 
 soul." 
 
 " Hoo d'ye ken that ? " I replies. " Is it not 
 written," says he, " ' Forsake not the assembly of 
 yourselves together?'" "Ay," says I, "dootless, 
 an' is it not also written, ' For why is my liberty 
 judged of another man's conscience ? ' " 
 
 " Ah ! but that refers," says he vary quickly, 
 "that refers tae what things are seemly or unseemly 
 tae eat an' drink. St. Paul never meant his words 
 tae be twisted intae general directions as tae 
 conduct." 
 
 " An' hoo can ye ken what St. Paul meant ? ' 
 I says, " Noo, St. Paul tae my mind was vary broad 
 i' his intellect, an' wud hav' taen nae man upshort 
 for worshipin' the great Architect o' this wunnerfu' 
 warld i' the manner best suited tae his idiosyncrasy. 
 Why, if it was aal priests," I says, " what a sorrofu' 
 
A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 281 
 
 warld it wud be ! an' when ye consider, that nae 
 twa theologians e'er quite hit it aff tegither, it's 
 lucky that there's nae mair than there is o' them. 
 An' again," I says, "worshippin' within stone walls 
 is half o' it, done by rote, like the Thibetans i' the 
 East wha pray wi' a mill. There's Ned Reed, the 
 blacksmith, he worships by singin' oot o' the side 
 o' his mooth as harsh as a corncrake ; there's 
 the Squire's wife, aal glistenin' wi' silk an' satin, 
 she worships by giving a crown piece tae the 
 collection ; an' there's yorsel, ye'll likely worship 
 by callin' yorsel a miserable sinner, thinkin' all the 
 while, maybe, hoo cannily yor strawberries are 
 ripenin'. 
 
 " Sir," he shouts at me, " d'ye mean tae insult 
 me ? " 
 
 " Hoots, no," says I, " not a bit ; I was but 
 takin' ye as an example." 
 
 Well, ye'll scarce believe it, but he seemed 
 tarr'ble oifended at that, claps his stick intae the 
 ground, settles his hat afresh on his head, jerks 
 
282 A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 
 
 oot, " Mornin' Sir," an' walks awa vary stiff an' 
 upright, like a proper pillar o' the Kirk. 
 
 " I suppose," I said, "you prefer a quiet stroll 
 through the woods, or by Frolic's side, before 
 genuflections in Church ?" 
 
 "Ay," I mostly take my way up the wattorside 
 o' the Sabbath," he replied, " its sae soothin' after 
 the week's turmoil o' hammerin' an' sawin' tae hear 
 the sweet murmur o' the stream through the woods. 
 Whiles it coos tae yor ear like a mistress as it 
 nestles doon beneath a tangle o' green, an' noo 
 again as it roonds a corner it hauds itsel like a 
 lover — jauntily ridin', chantin' his bridal ode, wi' 
 a reckless grace on him, as he gangs impetuous tae 
 his love. 
 
 " An' yet, man, there's folk like the vicar tae tell 
 ye that its fair paganism tae walk thro' the woods 
 wi' ideas like that i' yor heid ! 
 
 "Wey, he canna mind the Psalms, I'm thinkin, 
 nor hoo fu' they are o' the love o' nature as 
 showin' forth the handicraft o' the mighty Builder, 
 for great He is, an' clothed with light as wi' a 
 
A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 283 
 
 garment, stretchin' oot the heavens like a curtain : 
 layin' the beams o' his chambers i' the waters ; 
 makin' the cloods his chariot ; walkin' upon the 
 wings o' the wind. * The wings o' the wind,' 
 echoed my companion, " Isn't that parfect poetry, 
 noo ? Cud it be bettered ? Yet the man wha 
 wrote that mun just hav been carried awa wi' a 
 love o' nature. There was but the twa men i' aal 
 antiquity cud write aboot nature like that — the 
 yen was Homer — ye'll mind his ' innumerable 
 laughter o' the sea' ? an' the ither was King 
 David. 
 
 " Tae the yen nature was God ; tae the t'ithor 
 she was just His handiwork, an' if ye keep that 
 distinction i' yor mind I'll warn't ye ye winnot 
 get muckle hairm by gangin a walk thro' the woods 
 o' a Sabbath day. 
 
 "The mair I read the mair it seems parfectly 
 clear tae me that nae man can guage anither, nor 
 has the right tae pass judgment upon him. 
 
 " Ye may praise a man for a good action ; an' 
 ye may blame him for a bad ; tae gang further 
 
284 A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 
 
 than that an' pass judgment upon him is tae soond 
 the trumpet rather than tae tak the sword, an' we 
 aal ken what happen'd tae the ' luckless wight ' i' 
 the Ballant wha committed that error. For just 
 conceive, Maister John," and here he turned 
 round as he walked in front of me by the thin 
 margin of the river's brink, and motioned me to a 
 seat upon a grey flood-stone beside him. Now I 
 knew by this token that he was well started on his 
 theme, for a " bonny crack " always drew him to 
 a seat ; a man being bound in his judgment to pay 
 as much attention to his intellectual, as to his 
 physical, appetites. 
 
 "Just conceive," he repeated, " the enormous 
 difficulty i' the arrivin' at ee'n a decently accurate 
 apprehension o' the warld as a whole ! Wey, the 
 mere thought o't is enough tae stagger ye ! Nae 
 man is sufficient o' an Atlas i' his intellect tae 
 properly understand it. A geologian may tell ye 
 somethin', an' a biologist somethin', an astronomer 
 somethin', a theologian somethin', an' saeforth, 
 but nae one man's brain is large enough tae grasp 
 the whole. 
 
A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 285 
 
 " An' again, as the warld spins roond, the ideas 
 o' mankind change wi' the seasons. What's 
 blasphemy i' the yen century is "light an' sweetness 
 i' the next ;" each age has its spirit an' its belief, 
 yet unsartinty remains for its successor. 
 
 " There's yen book I've read ower an' ower 
 again, Maister John, for it fair fascinates me, an' 
 that's Gibbons' " Decline an' Fa'all o' the Roman 
 Empire." The Squire lends it us oot o' his ain 
 librairie at first, but seein' hoo I delighted in it he 
 gi'es it us at the finish, an' the pictures o' the 
 auld Roman's i' its pages haud me i' a tight grasp. 
 
 " Tae wor way o' thinkin' they had nae religion 
 at aal, thae fellers, an' what a medley o' character 
 there was amangst em' ! At the yen time a Strang, 
 marble-browed, warld rulin' feller wud be Emperor, 
 an' at anither a dirty, filthy blackguard o' a chap 
 wud be wearin' the Purple. 
 
 " Up an' doon they went at the finish, just 
 gettin' warse an' warse — frae the gutter tae the 
 purple, frae the purple tae the gutter ; noo bein' 
 
286 A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 
 
 warshipped as Gods, an' again bein' cast oot for 
 deils. 
 
 "An' that's just what I like aboot it aal, Maister 
 John, — the infinite complexity an' variety o' it aal, 
 the life o' mankind just epitomized there, an' each 
 man free i' his religion tae warship as he pleased. 
 
 " It's aal changed, noo, the priests tell us, but I 
 for yen dinna quite haud wi' that, for human 
 nature, hoo ever weel they may try an' conceal it, 
 underneath aal it's sloughin's o' habits an' ideas 
 remains the same identical ' handfu' o' valiant 
 dust ' it was when the spirit o' life was breathed 
 intilt at the first ; ay, just the same, Maister John, 
 as ye mun acknowledge if ye read, an' study, an' 
 reflect without any propositions i' yor mind. An' 
 mind ye, wi' aal this I've nae quarrel at aal wi' the 
 Priest : he gans his way, an' I mine. He warships 
 wi' rites an' ceremonies, an' a fixed form an' rote 
 o' belief; I wi' the missal o' the season spread 
 before my eyes aye hearken tae the ne'er still'd 
 choir o' the woodlands, an' whiles may be I bow 
 the head, but not before dead stanes. If ye were 
 
A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 287 
 
 tae ask me straight oot, Maister John, exactly what 
 I am i' religion, I wud be tellin' the truth maist 
 shortly if I said I was a Pyth-o-grassian." 
 
 " What sort of creed is that ?" I enquired 
 with a smile, " I have heard of many new 
 inventions in that line lately, but never before of 
 one with that extraordinary name." 
 
 " It's quite simple," he replied, " ye'll hav' heard 
 tell o' Pythogras hissel ? ye canna be sae tarr'ble 
 ignorant as not tae ken him, the first, an' maybe 
 the broadest minded, o' aal the Greek philosophers. 
 By the side o' him whaur are wor ain philosophers 
 o' this centory ? What are John Stuart Mill, an' 
 Horbert Spensor,an' Huxley i' a comparison wi' 
 him ? 
 
 " They're aal clivvor men, Maister John, 
 dootless, but there's nae originality aboot them ; 
 they're just intellectual muggers hawkin', the yen 
 a bit, an' the t'ither a bit o' the wares o' that 
 maist wise an' ancient Greek. If ye want religion 
 gang ye tae Pyth-o'-grass : if philosophy tae Pyth- 
 o'-grass : if astronomy tae Pyth-o'-grass ; i' fact, 
 
288 A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 
 
 ye canna get wrang if ye gang tae Pyth-o'-grass 
 for every turn o' knowledge I" 
 
 Determined not to acknowledge an ignorance 
 of this Whiteley of knowledge I desperately ran- 
 sacked my memory, but could find no tally. 
 Suddenly the discovery flashed like a meteor before 
 my intelligence. 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course ! I know who you mean," 
 I said composedly, " Pythagoras the Samian." 
 
 " Ay," he corrected me, " Pyth-o'-grass frae 
 Samos, that's him ; I thought ye'd ken him, tho' 
 ye havn't got quite the right classical pronunciation 
 o' his name. Well, an' wasn't he a maist 
 wonderfu' feller, noo ? For, if ye foller on his 
 lines, ye can just explain aal the mystery o' the 
 warld an' the riddles o' human life, an' him too 
 livin' aboot six centories before the Christian 
 
 error." 
 
 " Error ! " echoed I, started at the side attack 
 from my catholic-minded friend. 
 
 "Ay," said he, scarce heeding the interrup- 
 tion, " error, ye ken, meanin' period, well — " 
 
A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 289 
 
 " I see," I hurriedly acknowledged, fearing 
 another rebuke to my pronunciation. 
 
 " He kenn'd aal aboot evolution centories 
 before the word was e'er thought of by the 
 moderns, an' it was him, not Galileo, wha first 
 suggested the earth went circlin' roon the sun, — at 
 least that aal the heavenly bodies move roond 
 aboot the central fire, " the citadel o' Zeus," as he 
 caal'd it, i' a celestial harmony. Then at the 
 finish, thro' the lang courses o' the transmigration 
 o' souls an universal harmony will reign supreme, 
 
 an — 
 
 " It's a fascinating theory," I interrupted, 
 " but I wonder what I personally shall turn into, 
 or the Priest, for example ? " 
 
 " He looked round upon me from out the 
 depth of his thoughtful eyes — no one ever yet had 
 succeeded in making him lose his temper — and a 
 sparkle of humour lit in them, as he regarded me. 
 
 " I'm thinkin', Maister John, that ye'll 
 appear next i' the guise o' a clegg, yen o' the 
 species o' horse-fly, ye ken, an' as for the priest, — 
 
290 A SON OF THE WOODLANDS. 
 
 but whist," — and here he rose up from his seat, 
 and nodding mysteriously in the direction of the 
 hillside above us, whence a black round hat was 
 visibly bobbing, broke off his simile to remark, 
 " Here he comes hissel." So saying, he glided 
 stealthily along the path we had formerly come 
 by, and I followed, not altogether grieved at being 
 spared the necessity of improvising an impromptu 
 to his sarcasm on himself. 
 
 Printed by Mawson. Swan, & Morgan, Newcastle-on-Tyne. 
 
Catalogue of Books 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 tMawson, Swan, & 3\4 organ, 
 
 24, 26, 28, 30, d>» 32, Grey St., 7, 9, <S» 11, Grainger 
 Street West, and Barras Bridge, 
 
 Newcastle-on-Tyne. 
 
 A damson (Anne). 
 
 Harp Strings, from Italian, French and German 
 Poets. Small crown 8vo, sewed. 45. net. 
 
 All sold. 
 
 A damson (C. M.) 
 
 Some more Illustrations of Wild Birds. With 
 24 full page Photo Lithographs. Oblong 4to. 5s. 
 and 6s. 
 
 All sold. 
 
 " Mr. C M. Adamson, of North Jesmond, has been giving to the 
 world another instalment of illustrations of wild birds, showing 
 
 their natural habits The volume, beautifully got up, 
 
 should find great favour; though, as only 200 copies have been 
 issued and the drawings on the stones have been destroyed, it will 
 necessarily be within the reach alone of a limited number." 
 
 Newcastle Daily Chronicle 
 
iv. The Publications of 
 
 Arcana Fairfaxiana Manuscripta : a Manuscript 
 Volume of Apothecaries' Lore and Housewifery 
 nearly three centuries old, used, and partly written 
 by the Fairfax Family. Reproduced in fac-simile 
 of the original handwritings. An introduction by 
 George Weddell. Fcap. 4to, full bound sheep, 
 2 is. net. 
 
 Charlton (John). 
 
 Twelve Packs of Hounds : being a Collection of 
 Sketches of some of the Hounds and their Masters. 
 Oblong Atlas 4to (17! x 14), choicely bound full 
 white cloth, £5 3s. 
 
 " Is a publication which should be welcomed warmly by all 
 hunting men who have a weakness for art as well as sport ; for this 
 book may be said to be the first one that has appeared which dis- 
 plays, in addition to familiarity with horse and hounds, a thoroughly 
 artistic blending of the whole subject." — Land and Water. 
 
 " Mr. Charlton gives us a large volume, containing a chatty 
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 pictorial embellishment is of a high order." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 "Both pictures and letterpress are full of interest 
 
 In conclusion, we have perused Mr. Charlton's book with the 
 greatest pleasure." — Field. 
 
 "He is also particularly happy in catching the action. If any 
 reader is in search of a present for a country-house, he will find it 
 difficult to better this book."— Sporting and Dramatic News. 
 
 " The characters are natural, and the detail throughout is good, 
 showing that the artist is conversant, not only with the habits and 
 customs of man, but with those of the fox himself." — Sportsman. 
 
 Charleton (R. J.) 
 
 [In preparation. 
 
 Picture of the King. A Novel dealing with the 
 sojourn of Charles I. in Newcastle, when he was 
 held prisoner by the Scots, and generally with the 
 North country life of that period. Crown 8vo. 
 
Mawson, Swan, &> Morgan, 
 
 The Consecration and Enthronement of the First 
 Bishop of Newcastle, Right Rev. Ernest 
 Roland Wilberforce, D.D., on July 25th and 
 August 3rd, 1882. Crown 8vo, cloth. 
 
 A II sold. 
 
 CYCLING MAPS OF THE NORTH AND SOUTH 
 ROADS. is. each ; dissected and mounted on 
 linen, in case, 2s. 6d. 
 
 North Roads: From Berwick to Newcastle and 
 Jedburgh to the Coast. 
 
 South Roads : Newcastle to Northallerton and 
 
 Appleby to Middlesbrough. 
 Each is printed with two mile radius lines, and are 
 
 specially suitable for Cycling, Driving, and Walking 
 
 Tours. 
 
 "To Tynesiders this should come as a boon and a blessing." 
 
 Wheeling. 
 
 "Not only the cyclists, however, but the general tourist, the 
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 marked in figures alongside each main road." — Newcastle Journal, 
 
 Crawhall (Joseph). 
 
 A Beuk o' Newcassel Sangs : with Music, and 
 embellished with many quaint emblematic illustrat- 
 ions, by the author. 
 Square 8vo, 10s. 6d. net. Very few remain. 
 
 *^* This volume has been undertaken with the sole object of 
 putting on record and preserving, in library form, the 
 best representative songs by deceased local poets. 
 
 " Every page of it bears witness to the editor's love of the antique, 
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 enthusiasm. — Newcastle Leader. 
 
 " . . . . while in regard to its antique papers, Typography, and 
 illustrations, Mr. Crawhall's volume is a veritable edition de luxe." 
 
 Newcastle Daily Chronicle. 
 
vi. The Publications of 
 
 Crawhall (Joseph). 
 
 Impresses Quaint: 4to. 215. net. 300 copies only printed. 
 
 The very favourable press notices and public reception 
 accorded to many of the uncouth sculptures herein 
 contained on their first appearance in various local 
 and other publications, induced the author to 
 re-issue them in the present form. 
 
 Crawhall (Joseph). 
 
 A Jubilee Thought: Full of Woodcuts. 78 p.p. 
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 Crawhall (Joseph). 
 
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 The World's Highway. 376 pages, with illustrations. 
 Demy 8vo. 65. 6d. net. 
 
 " A pleasant surprise awaits the reader, and especially the critic, 
 who may take up this volume expecting, not unnaturally, only 
 another of those vapid and commonplace diaries which assume to 
 be legitimate works of travel. Mrs. Dunn has gifts both of 
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 are exceptional ; and the reader is throughout pleasantly aware of 
 a strong but unobtrusive personality, and of an equally strong . . . 
 sense of humour." — The Athenaum. 
 
 " Mrs. Dunn tells her travels in a volume of that vivid, vivacious 
 chit-chat which is never more interesting than from a well-read 
 woman, with a sense of the humorous and an alert, artistic eye. 
 . . . These fresh and picturesque pages certainly deserve their 
 wider circle." — Newcastle Daily Chronicle. 
 
Mawson, Swan, &* Morgan. vii. 
 
 "This account of a wandering is told in facile and excellent 
 English, with not a little distinction of literary style; and is 
 marked by a genuine sense of humour, somewhat uncommon 
 among women writers. . . , It is a bit of the freshest and purest 
 description, flowing brightly and racily from the pen of a more 
 than ordinarily clear-eyed and intelligent observer ; and as such 
 it fails in nothing which can make such a book not merely interest- 
 ing but absolutely fascinating. The ground has been traversed of 
 old by writers such as Sir Samuel Baker, Lady Brassey, and Sir 
 Edwin Arnold; and it is not too much to say that the authoress 
 of The World's Highway not only competes with these writers on 
 their own level, but in several ways excels them." — Tablet. 
 
 "The latest woman traveller to-day is Mrs. Archibald Dunn, 
 who has just returned from a journey round the world, and has 
 published her record. She went upon the highway and has no 
 secrets to tell. But she saw open things with an open eye." — 
 
 Pall Mall 
 
 "After reading Mrs. Dunn's entertaining journal we may 
 warmly recommend it to those who have done the journey, 
 contemplate doing it, or would like to do it along the World's 
 Highway." — Publishers' Circular. 
 
 Dunn (Rev. J. C, B.A.) 
 
 Lay Baptism Impossible. 8vo., sewed, is. net; cloth 
 limp, is. 6d. net. 
 
 " Mr. Dunn's book will repay study, and owing to its size and 
 price it will bring a mass of valuable information within the reach 
 of many who might otherwise find it difficult to master the history 
 of the question." — Scottish Guardian. 
 
 Embleton (Dr. Dennis, F.R.C.P.) 
 
 A Visit to Madeira in the Winter, 1880-81. Two 
 Lectures delivered before the members of the 
 Literary and Philosophical Society, of Newcastle- 
 upon-Tyne. Demy 8vo, sewed, 3s. 
 
 Grey (Sir Geo. Bart.) 
 
 Memoir of, by M. Creighton, M.A. Foolscap 4to, 
 i vellum. 150 copies only. Privately printed. 
 
viii. The Publications of 
 
 Hancock (Augusta). 
 
 Poems and Prose Idylls : with a preface by Joseph 
 Cowen. Demy i2mo, quarter bound white calf, 
 cloth sides, yellow edges. 3s. 6d. 
 
 " The poetry-loving readers of The Lady will be pleased to hear 
 that Miss Hancock has made a selection of her poems and shorter 
 writings, and published them in a complete form, well printed on 
 good paper, with a charming binding." . . . — The Lady. 
 
 "Though this is Miss Hancock's first adventure in the literary 
 line between boards, her name, as she modestly says in her preface, 
 is not unknown, whether as a contributor of poetic pieces to news- 
 papers and magazines, or as the author of lyrics, which have been 
 set to music, and sung in the drawing room or in the concert hall. 
 As a matter of fact, Miss Hancock is something more than a writer 
 of pleasing verses. Her poems, if not ambitious in the sense of 
 attempting any elaborate or sustained flight of the muses, possess 
 a real poetic inspiration — a sprightly and graceful movement, or 
 an incisive sweetness and force, which at once appeals to the 
 reader. Having perused one of these delicious little pieces, he is 
 sure to wish to read some more, and will probably finish the whole 
 volume before he relinquishes it. We need hardly say how seldom 
 there is any temptation to do that in taking up a volume of poems 
 by a tyro at the art. We think that one of the best and most 
 attractive features in Miss Hancock's poety is that it is in no sense 
 morbid, sad, or despairing, like so much that comes from the pen 
 and the plaintive fancies of our modern would-be poets. Surely 
 we have had about enough of these sighin^s and wailings over the 
 darksome mysteries of life— the death of friends, the transitoriness 
 of earthly affections, and the gloomy estate of men and women — 
 especially if they have the misfortune to be poets. Miss Hancock 
 sings in another and a healthier strain. She is not rompingly 
 jubilant, indeed, and is invariably sweet and tender ; but there is 
 the ring of hope and happiness in all or most of her pieces, which 
 is very welcome in a modern writer of verses." — Newcastle Journal. 
 
 Hicks (Rev. E. B.) 
 
 The Reredos of Newcastle Cathedral, with a pre- 
 face by the Rev. Canon Lloyd, Vicar, and an 
 introduction by R. J. Johnson, F.S.i\., Architect, 
 Ten illustrations. Half bound white calf, 2s. 6d. 
 net. Very few remain. 
 
 Giving a history of each Saint, and numerous illustrative 
 blocks showing every detail of architecture. 
 
Mawsoiiy Swan, & Morgan. ix. 
 
 Hodgkin (Miss). 
 
 Pilgrims in Palestine. Crown 8vo. 65. 
 
 All sold. 
 
 " There are evidences of ready and accurate observation in these 
 pages, and the distinctiveness and picturesqueness either of Palestine 
 or of its people are represented with easy and effective art." — 
 
 Newcastle Leader. 
 
 Howe (Rev. Geo. Edward). 
 
 The Catechist : or Headings and Suggestions for 
 the Explanation of the Catechism of Christian 
 Doctrine (No. 2.) With numerous Quotations 
 and Examples from Scripture, and an Appendix of 
 Anecdotes and Illustrations. 2 Vols., Crown 8vo. 
 1 05. net. 
 
 " We have great pleasure in introducing to priests and others 
 engaged in the work of religious instruction this excellent manual. 
 It appears to us to be admirably adapted to supply a want long 
 felt by catechizers, that of having at their command a complete set 
 of headings and points for illustration on all questions in the 
 Catechism in the shortest form possible ... The Catechist 
 clearly aims at presenting everything needful ready to hand, with 
 Scriptural texts and examples, with the greatest regard for the 
 convenience of the instructor." — Tablet. 
 
 " . . . . Instead of hurriedly scanning the pages of a book 
 in search of an idea or two, as the gold-digger turns over barrow- 
 fuls of mould in the hopes of lighting on a few grains of the 
 precious metal, let the priest take up The Catechist and the gold 
 lies open to his view ; he will find the ideas gathered together and 
 arranged for him in clear, unmistakeable type, like a chain of 
 precious stones, which, by their size and brilliancy, catch the eye 
 
 at once and arrest the attention We heartily and 
 
 sincerely recommend it." — Weekly Register. 
 
 [Nearly ready. 
 Itinerary of the Great North Road (London — 
 Edinburgh), and Principal Roads in Northumber- 
 land and Durham and the Lake District. Over 
 280 p.p. 130 Section Maps and Sheet Road Map. 
 Crown 8vo reduced (7x4 inches), limp cloth. 
 25. 6d. net. 
 
x. The Publications of 
 
 Lees (G. Robinson, F.R.C.S.) 
 
 Jerusalem Illustrated, with over 80 Illustrations from 
 Photographs taken by the author. Demy 8vo, cloth 
 extra, 65. 
 
 "Asa resident in the city for many years, the author has special 
 opportunities of intimacy with Jerusalem life and institutions, and 
 his book is unique, giving a great deal of information that cannot 
 be obtained elsewhere, about the ancient city, its present condi- 
 tion, its railway, water supply, festivals, police arrangements, &c, 
 . . . . the chief interest of the volume is in its vivid description 
 of every-day life in Jerusalem." — The Christian World. 
 
 "Certainly Jerusalem is here illustrated, and the illustrations 
 are both very many and very good. But Jerusalem is also described, 
 and by one who knows Jerusalem thoroughly well. It is, in short, 
 a hand-book of Jerusalem, at once trustworthy and attractive." 
 
 The Expository Times. 
 
 " The work will be invaluable to Biblical Students and Teachers ; 
 its graphic illustrations and well-up-to-date letterpress, being prime 
 recommendations." — The Rock. 
 
 " Many have been the works on Jerusalem, but this has features 
 of its own in its admirable illustrations of Biblical places and the 
 intelligible descriptions so tersely given. Simply as a book of 
 information and illustration it will be found valuable and instruc- 
 tive." — The Christian. 
 
 " A well-written book." — The Church Times. 
 
 " It is well calculated to supply the demand for reliable informa- 
 tion and views concerning the Holy City. Travellers visiting 
 Jerusalem will do well to take a copy of the volume with them." 
 
 Cook's Excursionist. 
 
 Lloyd (Rev. Canon). 
 
 Notes of Lenten Addresses given in Lent, 1890; 
 being Messages to the Seven Churches in Asia. 
 Crown 8vo, sewed, is. net. 
 
Mawson, Swan, &> Morgan. xi. 
 
 Neville (Rev. Hastings M.) 
 
 [Just ready. 
 
 Under a Border Tower : Sketches and Memories of 
 Ford Castle, Northumberland, and its surroundings, 
 with a Memoir of its late noble Chatelaine, Louisa, 
 Marchioness of Waterford. Crown 8vo, 344 pages, 
 1 os. net. 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Reproductions from the Original Cartoons painted by the Marchioness of 
 
 Waterford, at Ford School. 
 
 Moses and Miriam — Jacob and Esau — The Sacrifice of Cain and 
 Abel — Samuel and his Parents — Abraham and Isaac — David, the 
 Shepherd— Joseph sent to his Brethren — Josiah, King of Judah, at 
 eight years old — Daniel and the Three Children — " Suffer Little 
 Children to come unto Me" — The Scriptures, which are able to 
 make thee wise " — " And He was subject unto them " — Christ in the 
 Temple — St. John the Evangelist — John the Baptist — "Yet brought 
 up at the Feet of Gamaliel, &c." — Child Angels, &c, &c, &c. — 
 The Choristers— The Good Shepherd — The Shining Ones — The 
 Little Tower — The Cheviots — Ford Castle — The King's Tower — 
 The River Till below Etal — Clarencedale — Ford Bridge — Ford 
 Church — The River Till above Ford — Portraits of Lady Waterford 
 — Cottage Interior — The Parson's Tower — The Islands in the Till 
 — Ford Village and Fountain— Etal Manor, &c. 
 
 The Newcastle Diocesan Calendar, Clergy List and 
 Church Almanack. Published annually, Crown 8vo, 
 is. net. The issue for 1895 contains the report of the 
 Diocesan Conference, 1894, I5 - °^. net. 
 
 Northumberland. — New County Wall Map. Scale f 
 inch to the mile, size 66 by 50 inches. The Map is 
 issued in the following forms : — Mounted on Cloth, 
 varnished, and Rollers, 25s. Dissected and Mounted 
 on Linen, in a 4to cloth case, for table use. 30s. 
 Fitted in mahogany case, to roll up and down, 42s. 
 
xii. The Publications of 
 
 " We have much pleasure in noticing the issue by Messrs. 
 Mawson, Swan, and Morgan of a very excellent new county map 
 of Northumberland. It is on a large scale, seven-eighths of an inch 
 to the mile, and measures 66 by 50 inches. It is based upon the 
 Ordnance Survey, but as the Survey is already falling behind the 
 rapid changes that take place in a progressive county, there are a 
 great number of fresh features to add and others that require 
 modification. It is the special purpose of this map to indicate 
 these changes, such as new roads, railways, &c, and to give a full, 
 complete, and accurate map of the county as it is, and for all 
 purposes, In the first place, it is clearly and tastefuly coloured, 
 the new Parliamentary divisions being each coloured distinctly in 
 a different tint, including the divisions embraced in the city of 
 Newcastle and the Parliamentary boroughs of Tynemouth and 
 Morpeth. These tints, though presenting distinct boundaries, 
 however in no wise detract from the clearness with which the 
 geographical features and the place names are shown. A bold 
 and lucid style of lettering is adopted, which easily catches the 
 eye, and it is impossible to exaggerate the advantage of such a 
 feature in a map that is intended to hang on the wall. The hill- 
 levels, though clearly marked, are not so darkly shaded as to 
 obscure the lettering; and the rivers and streams can be easily 
 followed. The main roads are very prominently indicated by 
 coloured lines, the railways by more brightly coloured double lines, 
 whilst the parish roads are traced in light lines, uncoloured. 
 The position of the towns, villages, hamlets, gentlemen's seats, 
 collieries, &c, is carefully delineated, and the Roman roads and 
 stations, and other objects of interest to the antiquarian, are also 
 prominently marked. In short, this is the modern map of 
 Northumberland, which all who wish to have a thoroughly 
 serviceable and trustworthy delineation of the county as it is 
 ought to possess. In the right-hand corner is given a street plan 
 of Newcastle, which will be found very convenient. ' 
 
 Newcastle Journal 
 
 "Messrs. Mawson, Swan, and Morgan have produced a new 
 and elaborate map of Northumberland which would reflect credit 
 upon the resources of any geographical publishers in England. 
 The relief of the land is well displayed, and the hydrography 
 seems very carefully laid down, Well mounted, as well as 
 handsomely coloured and glazed, the map is among the best 
 examples of local cartography, and ought to come into wide use." 
 
 Newcastle Daily Chronicle. 
 
 "Messrs. Mawson, Swan, and Morgan, of Newcastle, will have 
 gratified many Northumbrians and others by the production of 
 the map of the county they have now issued. Roman roads and 
 stations, and other objects of antiquarian interest are also faithfully 
 delineated. But, perhaps, the chief merit of the production, apart 
 
Matvson. Swan, &> Morgan. xiii. 
 
 from its undoubted cheapness, is the clearness of the place names, 
 the distinctness of every road and pathway, and the prominence 
 given to every object of interest and importance. All who have 
 been concerned in producing it deserve to be congratulated upon 
 the general finish and excellence of their work." 
 
 Newcastle Wetkly Chronicle. 
 
 The Parish Terrier and Inventory, for use in the 
 Diocese of Newcastle, is. net. 
 
 Pease (Howard). 
 
 Borderland Studies ; or, Sketches and Tales in the 
 North Countrie. Crown 8vo, cloth, 35. 6d. 
 
 [Very few copies now remain. 
 
 X I 
 
 Borderland Studies ' have a freshness and power which 
 induce us to hope that we may meet with the writer again." 
 
 The Globe . 
 
 " The Book should interest both those who know and those who 
 wish to know the Northumbrian character." — Scotsman. 
 
 "Here, for the first time, is an attempt to apply the modern 
 method to our own district, still one of the most distinctive in 
 England. Mr. Howard Pease has a sensitive artistic conscience, 
 which leads him to check his observations carefully, and to use 
 every pains to make as liberal a transcript as possible." 
 
 Newcastle Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " Mr. Pease's book ought to find many readers, not mainly we 
 repeat because it is local, but mainly because it is literature." 
 
 Newcastle Weekly Chronicle. 
 
 Sower by (J. G.) 
 
 [Second edition. 
 
 Rooks and their Neighbours. With Thirty-four 
 Illustrations by the Author. Super royal 8vo, cloth, 
 65. net. 
 
 " ' Rooks and their Neighbours' is a prettily-illustrated volume 
 of pleasant gossip about Rooks by a writer who, while making no 
 pretence to be scientific, has kept his eyes open, and has observed 
 with care and sympathy the manners and customs of his rookery." 
 
 The Times. 
 
xiv. The Publications of 
 
 "A very interesting work is 'Rooks and their Neighbours.' 
 The letterpress is extremely accurate and matter-of-fact, and the 
 illustrations are often full of fancy and poetical feeling. Perhaps 
 what makes the book all the more charming to the casual reader 
 is that it ' lays no claim to be considered a scientific treatise.' " 
 
 The Sketch. 
 
 "Mr. J. G. Sowerby, of Chollerton, Northumberland, has 
 acknowledged the compliment paid to his house by the patronage 
 of his rooks, by publishing a monograph on their life and habits, 
 written from notes taken during a number of years, and illustrated 
 by sketches drawn with much artistic feeling, and a literal truth 
 to facts, of their nests, the trees in which they build, and their 
 situation round the gables and out-buildings of his fine old house. 
 .... He has even taken a hint from Bai Rei's ' Hundred Birds,' 
 and sketched the rooks' nests from between the chimney-pots." 
 
 The Spectator. 
 
 "Mr. Sowerby knows his rooks. He has watched them day 
 and night, and summer and winter .... The volume will 
 yield, along with much amusement, not a little information. It is 
 seasoned throughout, and with good taste, with the author's 
 pleasant wit." — The Scotsman. 
 
 "With deft pencil and quaint pen, Mr. J. G. Sowerby, of 
 Chollerton, has produced a book about rooks which might be read 
 aloud from an elm-top by the senior bird to a whole appreciative 
 
 rookery Perhaps we ought to go on here to speak of 
 
 the illustrations. They are all good — and many of them very 
 good — obviously done from life not merely with the careful eye 
 for the object, but with an intimate touch, an inevitably right 
 point of view, that tell of long and loving acquaintanceship with 
 
 the scene The illustrations, of which there may be 
 
 some thirty, are certainly a charm in Mr. Sowerby's book. In 
 writing Mr. Sowerby contrives to be singularly natural. He does 
 not seem to 'fancy himself for any faculty of studied periods, but 
 he can be colloquial without being jerky, and simple without being 
 crude. We frankly confess to a liking for his manner " 
 
 The Newcastle Chronicle 
 
 Trotter (Rev. E. B.) 
 
 The Church of England : her Early History, her 
 Prosperity, and her Mission. Being five lectures 
 delivered in the Cathedral Church of Newcastle-on- 
 Tyne, and in S. James' Church, Morpeth. Crown 
 8vo, cloth boards. 5s. 
 
Mawson, Swan, & Morgan. xv. 
 
 " Here we have five lectures delivered . . . with the object 
 of promoting Church Defence. A number of pertinent and signifi- 
 cant facts, which our opponents obstinately ignore, and which we 
 must as obstinately repeat, are given in this volume " — Spectator. 
 
 " Many pamphlets and volumes have lately been published in 
 defence of the Established Church, yet still they come; and the 
 last published volume is in many respects the best." 
 
 Derbyshire Times. 
 
 "Mr. Trotter's lectures contain valuable information on "The 
 Making of the Church of England," its temporalities and its 
 organization. The history supplies interesting details down from 
 the martyrdom of St. Alban to the times of the Reformation and 
 to ourowa times, proving the unbroken continuity of our Church." 
 
 Rock. 
 
 [Just published. 
 
 Ushaw College: A Centenary Memorial. Edited 
 by Robert C. Laing. 55 full page Illustrations, 
 and 80 others of smaller size. Demy 4to, 254 pages. 
 25s. net. 
 
 The above work is a memorial of the completion of the 
 first century of the College's existence at Crook Hall 
 and Ushaw. It contains a full historical and 
 descriptive account of the College Buildings. The 
 scope of the work may be seen from the titles of 
 the chapters into which it is divided : — 
 
 1. The College at Douay and Crook Hall. 2. Foundation of 
 Ushaw. 3. The Quadrangle as it was. 4. The Quadrangle as 
 it is. 5. College Church and Chapels. 6. Library Wing and 
 Playgrounds. 7. Extension Westward. 8. The Cemetery. 
 9. Junior College. Epilogue. 
 
 "This fine quarto is one of the most handsome volumes ever 
 produced by the publishers, and witnesses most persuasively to the 
 taste and resourses of the local press at which it has been bound, 
 printed, and illustrated." — Newcastle Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " This handsome volume, elaborately illustrated and beautifully 
 printed, is at once an admirable Centenary Memorial, and a work 
 of art in the highest degree creditable to those responsible for its 
 publication. It will be welcomed with delight by Ushaw men both 
 past and present, for whom the past history, and present greatness 
 of their alma mater, as here portrayed, will be a subject of 
 honourable and legitimate pride." — Irish Ecclesiastical Record. 
 
xvi. The Publications of Maw son, Swan, &> Morgan. 
 
 " . V The authorities of Ushaw are, therefore to be congratulated 
 on the successful results that have attended the collaborations of 
 the Rev. Robert Laing, and his assistants in the formation of a 
 volume worthy at once of its subject and occasion." — Tablet. 
 
 Wallace (William). 
 
 Alston Moor : its Pastoral People ; its Mines and 
 Miners ; from the earliest periods to recent times, 
 with eight full page illustrations, crown 8vo, cloth 5s. 
 
 Whitehead's Newcastle Directory for 1778: a 
 Facsimile reprint of The First Newcastle 
 Directory, 1778. With an introduction by J. R. 
 Boyle, F.S.A., giving an epitomised history of 
 Newcastle Directories published since 1778. Demy 
 8vo, 55. net. Also 25 copies on hand-made paper, 
 Demy 4to, L.P., 10s. 6d, net. Very few remain. 
 
 [Shortly to be published. 
 Richardson (George Bouchier). 
 
 A Descriptive and Illustrated History of the 
 Walls, the Gates, and the Towers of 
 Newcastle-on-Tyne, with a biography of the 
 Author and Editorial Notes, by Richard Welford. 
 Over 100 Illustrations. SOME ORIGINALS OF 
 T. M. RICHARDSON, AND OTHER CELE- 
 BRATED ARTISTS. 
 
 Price to Subscribers : — Crown folio large paper, 
 limited number of copies £$ net. Royal 4to. £2 25. 
 net. 
 

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