Acq. Dcpf. # Library Univ. C f North Corolina Chapel Hill, N. C. 27SU — V T'LC‘ 1— C) I - af»- 3 *-hlo O £ 1 > , • ff) THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA ENDOWED BY THE dialectic and philanthropic SOCIETIES PR5449 •S455 H3 Y-LC k UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 00024006415 * * I 'r / HARRY BIRKETT; THE STORY OF P R A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELF. BY THE AUTHOR OE “ TOWN LIFE,” “ LIVEEPOOL LIFE,” “ RAMBLES IN THE LAKE DISTRICT,” &c. “ Life’s great play May, so it have an actor great enough, Be well performed upon a humble stage.” LONDON: WILLIAM TWEEDIE, 3 37,, STRAND. LONDON: RICHARD BARRETT, PRINTER, MARK LANE. I CONTENTS. Page Chapter I.—Holiday at Poebeck. 1 Chapter II.—Mrs. Brill and her Lodgers . 13 Chapter III.—What the Neighbours thought of Mrs. Birkett, and who one of them was. 26 Chapter IV.—A Surprise and Capture . 39 Chapter V.—Father at Home Again . 52 Chapter VI.—Harry’s Schoolmaster . 67 Chapter Vl^t.—Home and School Training. 80 Chapter VIII.—The Sports at Poebeck . 92 Chapter IX.—Harry receives Marching Orders . 102 Chapter X.—Harry goes on Tramp. 113 Chapter XI.—The Battle of Life Begins. 127 Chapter XII.—Rain and Sunshine . 137 Chapter XIII.—A Lesson on Self-Reliance. 150 Chapter XIV.—The last Sunday at Hazel. 160 Chapter XV.—Leaving Poebeck. 170 Chapter XVI.—Arrival at Riverside . 181 Chapter XVII.—The Wife’s Reception . 193 Chapter XVIII.—A Frightful Example . 204 Chapter XIX.—Harry at a New School . 216 Chapter XX.—Snares .•.'227 Chapter XXI.—Sympathy . 238 Chapter XXII.—A Struggle with Self. 252 Chapter XXIII.—The Old Apostle and the New Faith ... 264 Chapter XXIV.—Self-Culture. 275 Chapter XXV.—Practical Teaching . 292 Chapter XXVI.—Be True to Yourself . 302 Chapter XXVII.—Steadiness and its Reward . 314 I ■ jfe&l • \ * \ , HARRY BIRKEIT; THE STOEY OF A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELF. CHAPTEE I. HOLIDAY AT POEEECK. Thiety-eiye years ago ! In the days of the brimstone match and tinder-box! In the days of stage-coaches and dear postage! In the days (as some will have it), the good old days, of an unre- formed House of Commons, and a not exactly well-informed people! Before George Stephenson had completed his iron road over Chat Moss— before steam applied to locomotion was believed in—before the repeal of the bread-tax dare be hinted at; and when the admission of Eoman Catholics to Parliament was declared to predicate the end of all things—when a working man who 3 2 HARRY EIRKETT; THE STORY OP could read and “ do sums” was looked upon by bis fellows as a learned man; and was looked upon by many wbo were not his fellows, or who did not consider themselves such, as “ a dangerous person” _before England had given the death-blow to slavery in her foreign possessions — and before Englishmen at home had discovered the civilising influence of the brazen-jawed gin-palace! In those days a steamboat had not yet been seen at the port of Poebeck ; and the announcement that such a spectacle might be looked upon on a fine sum¬ mer’s day caused the authorities of the thriving port to proclaim a holiday. A steamboat, one with a saintly and significant title, would visit the port; yes, perhaps enter the harbour. Trade was all suspended, and all the inhabitants of Poebeck turned out to do homage to this saintly forerunner of great things to come. Poebeck was not a large town; neither was it a clean one. It was a crowded place, an irregularly built place, yet a place which was talked about far and near. The “ pits,” or mines, which surrounded it, which were dug under it, and which belched forth volumes of dense smoke over it, had made Poebeck what it was — famous. Those stiff-built brigs, manned by that active and hardy race, which lined the quay sides and filled its harbour, had A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 3 given abundant evidence, as, indeed, they yet con¬ tinue to do, of the sterling qualities and daunt¬ less courage which guides and directs the Poebeck colliers. The town lay closely nestling at the base of fine, bold swelling hills, verdant to the summit. These were the playgrounds of the populace at certain seasons. At one point the town had begun, and had made a very successful effort to climb the hill; and long rows of cottages, the miners’ dwellings, and the great Prince of Poebeck’s property, formed the terrace of the high town. In another place, high flights of steps, very precipitous, conducted to the hill-side or sea-brows. At the side of these steps, nailmakers’ shops, ill-designed, wretchedly dark, and badly ventilated, had been erected. The nailmakers had met, it may be supposed, with better shops (for they had deserted these), and they were now inhabited by very poor and ill-con¬ ditioned people—not very likely to become rich or well-conditioned so long as they fived in these dens. There were very fine houses in the town below; and in some of these fine houses lived the proprie¬ tors, the rent receivers, of the hovels on the Mount. These fine houses were jammed into the most curious places; and the external decoration of iron¬ work and fancy paving to be seen before and around 33 2 4 HAKEY EIEXETT ; THE STOEY OF them would hardly pass muster at “ Marlborough- house,” notwithstanding the reason that is always assigned, “ that they were built when the tobacco trade was good! ” It was a favourite ramble along the sea-brows of Poebeck. Boys, neither any of the inhabitants with strength of limb for hill-climbing, would never think of reaching the sea-brows by the Mount steps. USTo ; they would get down past the pier and life-boat house on to the beach. They would have a game of “ tick and run” over the dark Sea-pitted Pocks; or they would stand and watch the sea toying with the brown tangle. How gradual were the encroachments, how impercep¬ tible ! How gently the tangle waved as the sea came on. Then how it began to roll as the action of the sea became stronger. And when it was almost engulphed, and might well-nigh be consi¬ dered lost, how, as if to revenge itself, it writhed and struggled to escape, lashing the sea into foam! How vain the effort of the tangle! Prom the beach to the sea-brows was an invigorating climb; and, the top reached, the climber was rewarded by a grand prospect. A stretch of sea and rugged * outline coast, with bold bluff headlands jutting out; and hill, dale, and smiling fields around, with the dim outline of great mountains in the distance; A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELF. 0 such a scene as, when often gazed upon in youth, can never be forgotten. To the lover of the pic¬ turesque, the romantic, or the beautiful, the suburbs of Poebeck held out abundant charms, whilst “ the looker-up of legendary lore,” which, after all the alliteration, is only another name for “ that learned insect the antiquarian,” could hardly settle in a better locality. Such, then, were some of what fancy writers call the “ environments” of Poebeck. What were its people ? The humbler classes of the community were a mixed race. Celt and Saxon were singularly blended. The shopkeepers to a man had come from the original stock in these parts, but many of their customers had come from other lands and peoples. The thriving trade led to the adoption of improve¬ ments in and about the quay; and as increased facilities were given for the increasing trade, artizans and handicraftsmen from distant towns and cities were attracted hither. Mixed as the populace was, the manners and customs of “the aborigines” were carefully preserved, particularly as regards their sports and pastimes. There were days set apart for fairs, races, and athletic sports, and these days were looked forward to with interest, and due pro¬ vision made for what was considered the righteous observance and enjoyment of them. These holidays 6 HAEEY BIUKETT ; THE STOEY OF came in the regular course; but there was now a holiday out of the course, of an extraordinary cha¬ racter. The visit to the port of what had long been talked of and marvelled at—a steamboat! Schools were set at liberty, miners came up from their under¬ ground burrows and tramroads, laid aside their Davy-lamps, and “ donned their best.” In short, Poebeck proper came out of its narrow streets, fair houses, fine houses, and dirty houses, and got to the pier to see the packet and air itself. The day was very fine, the steamboat, a very little one, called at the harbour. A tin horse had been constructed by some ambitious and ingenious in¬ habitant, and this was announced “ to walk on the water and meet the steamer.” As the steaming saint sailed near the pier, the figure of a horse, painted green, the rider having paddles to his feet, was seen to move from beside one of the piers. How the people cheered ! what a sight was that! Some forgot the steamer (they were interested in the horse). Others had no patience to look at the horse or “the crackbrain’d rider,” they had likely taken shares in the steamer. There was, though, great rejoicing; it was a public holiday. A public holiday ! yes, a day of rejoicing, when people will shout and sing, and drink; yes, perhaps quarrel, fight, create broils abroad and misery at A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. home, and in short enjoy themselves. A public holiday is, however, like most other things in life; it presents different aspects, according to the point from which it is looked upon; or dependent upon the coloured glasses through which people look. Under any circumstances there are two phases of the holiday which are striking, what is seen abroad, and what this leads to at home. There stood on the pier at Poebeck, amidst the thousands there assembled to witness the arrival of this extraordinary vessel, a little boy. . He was not fair, nor stout, nor rosy, neither was he well clad; but a boy dark, wiry, pale and poorly dressed. His mother held his hand in hers, and her face now and then beamed with satisfaction as she looked on the excitement and enthusiasm of her son. This was Mrs. Birkett and her darling son little Harry. She rarely went anywhere without him now. Since her husband had ceased to come home regularly in the evenings—since she had occasion to go out and lead him home—since he had formed companion¬ ships which took him from his own fireside, where he used to sit down in the evening and instruct his children—since he had become to her gloomy, or snappish, and of his house and children careless and indifferent—Mrs. Birkett had taken more than ever to the society of her eldest boy, a little fellow whom 8 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OE the neighbours said she was making an old man of. He could not get regularly to school: education teas not then too cheap , and Harry’s mother was poor, because the father liked the company at the public- house better than that of his home. So it was Harry and his mother were often seen together; on the beach where the whole family would some¬ times go, to gather pretty pebbles, and allow the waves to chase them ; up the hills to spread clothes on washing-day; to the chapel on Sunday evenings, where the screaming woman sometimes preached, and where the singing was so merry, and so unlike Church psalms, that Harry used to learn the tunes off, and sing them at his play. Wherever Mrs. Birkett went, her boy \vas with her. He knew and saw most of her sorrows ; he partook fully of all the joys which now fell to her lot; and it seemed to cheer her, and occasion as much pleasure as anything else, to hear the boy vowing what he would do for her and himself when he was a man! And mother and son now were gazing on this holiday spectacle. The boy had not lived long enough to experience much of the world’s ways. He had not been checked in his growth, or weakened in his digestive powers, by close confinement at home or intense application at school. Education—if by that be A Man WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 9 meant scholastic training—tie had comparatively none; hut the schoolmaster which poverty pro¬ vides not unfrequently developes traits of character which might, under other teachers, never be educed. He had known before this that there were two sides to a holiday; and as he passed from the pier, and left his mother to go home to baby, whilst he went up the brows to see the steamer bearing far away, he was led to reflect on what a holiday meant to him . It meant scanty meals, and no school wages; it meant barley-meal porridge, and little of that, with leavened barley-bread, and not even wheaten bread on Sundays; it meant giving to his mother, for the purpose of buying food, the small sums he had been taught to earn by making fishing-nets, and which were intended to provide him with shoes. It meant sitting, late at night, with his mother, listening hour after hour for the footsteps of father to approach the dwelling, and when the stumble against the door was heard, going down as quietly as he could, so that the landlady would not be disturbed by the noise of his father coming home. It meant, sometimes, waiting with mother until midnight, and then having with her to sally forth in search of him who had been “keeping up as it should be” the holiday. Groing into house after house where lights were 10 HARRY BIRKETT : THE STORY OE burning and holiday-keepers were carousing, and amongst men in low, close parlours, or long, dimly- lighted kitchens—some uproariously joyous, others lying asleep, and many jabbering drunk—seeking for father, and asking if any could tell where he might be found. It meant this to him very often. Nay, more; whilst trudging through the narrow lanes, close courts, and crooked streets, the boy listened many times to the remembrances of wrongs inflicted,—remembrances wrung from the scorched yet bleeding heart of the mother he so dearly loved, and whose now faltering steps he alone had to direct. If father was missed, and had reached home in their absence, they were upbraided ; if they discovered him, and endeavoured to draw him from his sottish companions, they were abused. Do what they might, they did nothing to please. A miserable night, a sorrowful morning, a pallid mother’s face to greet him, and a heavy sigh to escape her, as she placed before him his scanty meal, this is what a holiday meant to Harry Birkett, as it did to thousands then, and does to thousands more now. But the boy’s playmates gathered round him, and the country ramble was proposed. Away they go, over the heather and gorse, bounding like young hounds; away they go, on to the jutting A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELF. 11 headland, where they sit down and gaze at the busy birds around them, and the deep blue sea far, far below; away they go, past the old farm-house, where the new hay smelled so sweet, and where the wary yard-dogs always set them on the run; away they go, down the narrow lanes overhung with trees, and by the hedges where the foxgloves dangled, and the hazel-nuts would ere long be found; away they go, past the fish-stream which they had read about, and then into the wood, where they would chase the squirrel and lay themselves down to rest. Still, whilst laying in the deep recesses of the wood, Harry could not help thinking of his mother and his home. He remembered when his mother was fresh, cheerful, and happy; he remembered when they had a house to themselves, when his father used to walk with his children into the fields, and tell them the names of all the flowers they met with, and run races, and laugh more than they all at the toddling of the little ones; he remembered, too, that on the dark nights his father used to have them round the table, teaching them to spell or cipher, and what a game they all used to have when what they called the night-school was over, in try¬ ing to catch father’s coat-tails, and what tumbles some of them got on the sanded floor. Yes—yes. 12 HARRY B1RKETT : THE STORY OE These were happy days: he was not old, hut the remembrance of these things made him often feel so. Oh! what a time this was that he had passed through since they left that rose-covered cottage! When the hoys reached town that night, Harry was not surprised to find that his father had not been seen or heard of: this was, of late, the usual termination to his holiday. His sisters were in bed; mother was sitting by the fading embers with baby on her knee. It is midnight. Ho father yet. The public- houses are searched, without success. There are no tidings. As day breaks, Harry, with sheer exhaustion, falls asleep, and mother lays him in bed. A MAN wno HELPED HIMSELF. 13 CHAPTER II. MES. BEILL AND HEE LODGEES. “ Poor watcher! thy lot indeed is sadness. Doom’d as thou art to pass life’s glowing noon In solitary vigils like to this, Which, not the first, will scarcely be the last.” Me. and Mes. Beill, or, as the people of Poebeck spoke of them, old Jem Brill and his wife, lived in a comfortable house in a crooked street, not far from the Quay, and near the Market. It was an old house, a roomy house, and Brill said it was a “ lucky house ” when his wife was in it! But this was clearly a simple matter of opinion. There was a chapel near, a church not far off; two doctors lived within a stone’s throw; there was a baker’s shop next door, a butcher’s opposite, in the room over which a tailor and his family resided, and there was a joiner and coffin-maker had a yard behind— so that, as old Jem said, “ "Wherever people wished to go to, or determined to go to, they might in this street meet with a proper outfitter.” “ They’ll have you here at either stem or stern,” that was Brill’s expression. 14 HARRY EIRKETT ; THE STORY OE Mrs. Brill was a very stout little woman, cheerful, but childless. She was blessed with a kind hus¬ band, and, as she said, “ pestered with an asthma.” According to her statement, she often, very often ? was nearly losing her breath; but she generally managed to retain her speech. Indeed, for an asthmatical person, particularly, she spoke with considerable fluency. She was said by her husband to have a wonderful stock of health, “ such as it was,” and a regular flow of spirits. No one ever saw her out of temper, and no one could, by any possible chance, speak to her for five minutes with¬ out hearing of the wonderful sagacity of her hus¬ band. She was one of those good genial spirits who •had something good to say of anyone. She carried sugar candy or sweets of some sort in her pockets at all times and seasons, and dealt these out to children or old women; for her dear old mother was very fond of sweets, and she warned her daughter, seeing that they cost little, and comforted and cheered much, never to be without them ! She carried about with her, too, beaming good-nature, and this proclaimed sunshine wherever she was seen. Mr. Brill was a fisherman. He had a small boat of his own, and the season being on now he was out frequently all night. His wife feeling lonely, A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 15 she had, as she said, “ as much for company sake as anything else,” let off two apartments to Mrs. Birkett and her family, and they had been residing here about six months. Mr. Brill was a stiff-built, low-set man, weather-beaten and grizzly; he was said by the neighbours “ to dote on his wife;” whatever that may have been in those days it is an infirmity under which few men labour now. He was ignorant of most things, except a knowledge of fishing and mending nets, and if he were not found from home at one occupation he was sure to be at home at the other! His wife, so he said, knew enough for them both; and it was, so he thought, a blessing that while she read to him the newspaper (which they borrowed when it was almost a week old), he could be working at his nets. Jem Brill was looked upon by those with whom he did busi¬ ness, that was to whom he sold fish, as a man of his word; and if he ever was inclined to go wrong, his wife would set him right; everybody believed that as firmly as Brill himself. Brill was soon led to interest himself in Birkett’s children; because his wife ofttimes, when her household duties were fulfilled, would find her way to the apartments of her lodger. She had, too, with all womanly tact, gleaned the history of Mrs. Birkett’s life, and had moreover imparted this to her husbaud. # 16 HARRY RIRKETT; THE STORY OF “ Couldn’t I show that little Harry how to make nets ?” said old Brill to his wife one evening as they were sitting by the kitchen fire, the wind not answering for him to put to sea. “ Why you old curly wig, you simple, I was going to say stupid old curly wig,” for such were the terms of endearment Mrs. Brill used to her saga¬ cious husband, “ of course you could show Harry or anybody else how to make nets; but what good would that do ?” “ Why, it would put his hands to some use, and if a lad can be showed how to use his hands he will be useful, won’t he ? and if he’s useful he will earn something, won’t he, Nelly ? You can’t get over that, little lady fair, can you ?” Nelly could not, what is further, she did not try, but uttering a merry laugh, and laying down the blue yarn stocking she was darning, she caught hold of her husband’s long curly hair and pulled it with a great show of force, patting him on the cheek, called him a clever old curly wig, and sharp as a fish-hook. What joy this calling of names appeared to create. Some days after Harry, who was often waylaid in the lobby, or on the stairs, by Mrs. Brill, and who often had thrust into his hand a slice of wheaten bread, well coated with butter, (a sub- A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELF. 17 stance which was never seen, except on holidays or festive occasions, at his mother’s table) was called into the kitchen to see old Mr. Brill. The net- making business was proposed and accepted. If he were to become expert he might earn shillings, yes, shillings each week; and if he liked to go out a-fishing now and then, he might earn more.— “ More than shillings, Harry,” said Mr. Brill. Harry did spend many evenings at net-making, and very proud Jem Brill was of his pupil, almost as proud as the pupil was of his work. But as to going a-fishing, Harry was too young, his mother thought, for that. If he earned as much in the evenings as would pay for his schooling at a good master’s school, that would be a great matter, and Mrs. Birkett set her son to strive for it. Harry’s father was a mason; a man of good natural parts, improved by cultivation. His circum¬ stances considered, and the state of learning being borne in mind, he was a well educated man, of free, cheerful disposition, frank manners, and active habits. His memory was good, his reading had been very general, and he had in a peculiar degree that dangerous gift of being a good story-teller. There was moreover a dashing off-hand style about him, whether at his wwk or amongst his friends and companions, and his trenchant sarcasms, and c 18 HARRY BIRKETT; THE STORY OF humorous sayings, led him to he feared by. some as much as he was respected by others. As life opened up to him, friends clustered around, and when John Birkett led to the altar his tall, gentle, tender-hearted and devoted wife, it was agreed on all hands—around the smithy fire, by the church- door when the bell was ringing in, or at the market, where men met to pay earnest money, and damp it with liquor—that no man in the township was more respected than him, and no young couple could have better prospects before them. There was now a second pier in course of con¬ struction at Poebeck, and this gave employment to a large number of masons, many of whom hailed from a distance; amongst these was Harry’s father, John Birkett. He had been a thriving master builder in his native county, but through his own misconduct had now become a journeyman mason, and was working at the new pier. He could yet, and did, tell good stories. He still whistled at his work, he still walked sprightly, and had a little swagger in his gait; but it was said his stories were getting stale, his whistling, by which he was recognized amongst dozens of his fellow workmen, w r as not so blithsome; his manners were less frank and joyous, and the glow of health was fading from his cheek. He had in a few years A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 19 undergone a great change. Everybody who had known him in former years and saw him now noticed it,—he felt it. John Birkett was a great favourite with Jem Brill, but Jem had seen very little of him lately. Brill and his wife had some curious discussions, and the result of these were generally communi¬ cated to Mrs. Birkett by her kind landlady. The morning on which this story opens it had been a subject of considerable discussion between them, whether it was stoutness which made people good- tempered, or whether it was good-temper which made people stout. Brill had, as he termed it, coiled the rope up in this way:— “ What matter P Whichever way it is, Nelly, you have it! As I said to our lads in the boat when we had that good haul, and they kept talking away as to how it happened as we got such a boat¬ load, c what’s the use of your talking; whichever way it is we have the fish, and what more do you want ? That’s the best end of the line, isn’t it ? And I never heard anyone as could get over that!’ ” Mrs. Brill should rather think not. The man who could surpass her husband in catching fish, or making the most of them when caught, she would like to see him,—that she would. Bearing on her face the radiant smile occasioned c 2 20 HARRY EIRKETT; THE STORY OF by her reflections on the convincing style of argu¬ ment adopted by her husband, she entered Mrs. Birkett’s room on the afternoon of the day follow¬ ing the rejoicings at Poebeck, and was surprised to find Mrs. Birkett in tears. “ What! not come home at all? I saw Mrs. Bell running through the passage just now, and I did wonder what was the matter. Well, well,” said the little woman. “ Mrs. Bell came running to tell me,” sobbed forth the weeping wife, “ that John had been paid off* at the pier, because he had lost so much time lately, and that yesterday, during the rejoicing, he had taken his tool-box away, and with two or three companions had gone off up the country ‘ on tramp/ and left me, left meher tears choked her utterance. Mrs. Brill was much affected, and well-nigh over¬ come ; but she recovered herself and replied, “ It is no use meeting our troubles half-way, they are not worth it. Don’t believe half of what you hear; but whatever you do meet with, or whatever you hear, always hope for the best! That is what I do, and it is w r hat suits me, so that I always feel safe in recommending it to my friends or neighbours. I know it is very sad, very sad; but suppose now that the worst has happened, as you think, why I A MAN "WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 21 that may turn out the very best, for what you know ? Suppose all is true which you have heard, and that he has done what no one would ever expect; will fretting alter your case now ? or, what concerns you more, will it help you to buy bread for your chil¬ dren ? No ! Cheer yourself up, then. If you let your spirits go down, hope is gone. Never do that. Never do that. Such was Mrs. Brill’s philosophy of life. She uttered the last sentences with great volubility and energy, stamping her foot on the floor, as if to ren¬ der her words still more effective. Then, turning to the person addressed, and who had sat weeping before her, she said, “ Give me the child. I’ll take care of it; bless it! and when the others come in from school I’ll get them something to eat, and make out a story why you are not here, for it will never do to let the girls know until it can’t be helped. But as for you, get away now as soon as ever you can, make all the inquiries you can, and, if possible, get back before our Jem goes out for the night. Jem will advise with us ; he is very good at that is Jem. He can mostly get any one out of a scrape but himself! I never saw him puzzled with anything but once ; that was the time his sister was bad of the quinsy, and she sent for Jem to give him some directions about a little money which 22 HARRY BIEKETT; THE STORY OE troubled ber. Well, when we reached her bedside she could not speak. Jem was bothered a bit then, to be sure. Else, in a general way, he is very good at managing a difficulty, that he is. Come now, give me baby, Mrs. Birkett, and away with you.” The weeping woman turned towards her friend a pale, careworn, oval face, lighted up by large, lus¬ trous, dark hazel eyes, the arched lashes of which gleamed with tears. She was very plainly clad, and her simple cotton bedgown displayed arms finely moulded, whilst her form and bearing gave many indications that her condition in life had not always been what it was now. She made an effort to speak, to express her gratitude for the kindness and con¬ sideration shown her, but her thoughts could find no tongue ; the nervous twitching about her mouth, the violent pulsations seen on her temples, the heavy sighs and deep sobs which broke away as she rose and pressed her babe to her bosom—these expressed all she had now to utter. Hesitating, looking first at the kind little woman wffio chatted away merrily by her side, then at the face of her babe, around the mouth of which the smile of inno¬ cence played, as the infant soul, unscathed by worldly conflicts, revelled in the joys of dreamland ; next, casting her eyes around the room, and here and there, by the various articles of domestic use, A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 23 having the happiness of the past brought before her, she sank again on her seat by the cheerless fire, and her tears flowed fast. For two hours, ever since she had first heard the evil tidings, she had sat with her babe on her knee, and sorrow gnawing at her heart. She had suffered much, and borne it patiently ; she had been torn from the scenes and friends of her youth ; had come amongst strangers, had struggled with poverty, yet had, up to this time, passed through all without giving any one cause to think that she repined at her lot. But what were all her sorrows compared f with this ? She had seen her husband in the hey¬ day of youth, business prospering, and friends smiling around him. She had seen him, and mourned to see him, when the first step on the slippery path was taken, and she had nobly striven with him to retain the position he was then in dan¬ ger of losing. And when the efforts which he made to stem the torrent into which he had been whirled all proved futile, and he was ruthlessly cast off from whatever he had hoped to cling to, she was still on the banks to cheer and encourage him, and as he neared the shore stood ready to reach out her help¬ ing hand. For his sake, and for the sake of those dear children which God had given them, she had endured all. “ And can it be,” thought she, “ can 24 * HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OF it be that he has learned to love me less as he sees my sufferings more ? Oh no, surely not. Even if he could be so overcome as to desert me, surely he would not desert these babes of his.” Again and again she heaved violently to and fro, kissing her babe and weeping piteously. Sitting erect for a moment, and then looking wildly around the room, a thought seemed to flash across her mind which nerved her to action. “ What others have done,” mused she, “ he might be led to do.” She had not to muse long, or look far into the past, for many instances had been brought closely home, in which the strongest or the tender- est ties, either or both, had been snapped off or torn asunder, without hesitation or compunction, at the bidding of that evil spirit which “ the usages of society” engenders, and which indulgence in drink evokes. “ I do not like to go out without Harry, Mrs. Brill. He knows all the places where his father calls ; and knows his way through the town, too, which I do not,” faltered forth Mrs. Birkett. “ However, if he does not go down to the beach or climb the hills when he leaves school, he will be here soon, and I will get ready by the time he comes home.” She passed her infant to Mrs. Brill, and left the room. A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 25 Mrs. Brill seemed delighted to dandle babies, and was soon at work chirping, crowing, and singing to amuse Mrs. Birkett’s child. After the manner of women, she had a number of questions to ask, and they were all put in that jargon known as “ mother’s English.” “ Where’s mammy gone, eh —“ whose coming home soon, eh ?”—“ whose girley pirley is it, then ?”—“ who carries it up the hill to get daisy pazies, eh ?”—who wetted its sweet little cheeks with tears, and forgot to kiss them off, eh ?” All of which were put in rapid succession, the child being tossed about and kissed a good deal the while. It did not answer the questions, although she put them more than once, and put them in a variety of ways. JSTo ! It seemed rather more stolid when she left off than when she began. Eventually it waved its tiny arms, and crowed wdiilst staring at her, and this charmed the little body so much that she almost suffocated it with kisses. Harry Birkett bounded in from school, and some¬ what checked the ardour of the nurse. His mother called to him from the next room, and on answering he soon saw what a dreary tramp was before him. The mother and her son set out. 26 HARRY BIRKETT; THE STORY OF CHAPTER III. WHAT THE NEIGHBOURS THOUGHT OF MRS. BIRKETT, AND WHO ONE OF THEM WAS. “To be honest as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.” It was a murky night, and a thick mist fell, as Mrs. Birkett and her boy left their home in search of “ father.” Most of the shops were closed, the market-place was almost deserted, even the fisher¬ men who frequently lingered late to smoke and chat by the Quay-side had moved off, and the streets looked gloomy. All who could keep in¬ doors did so ; for pedestrianism by night in Poebeck was difficult at any time, but the difficulties were much increased on such a thick, dark, dank night as this. The town was said to be lighted after the most approved fashion. Small funnel-crowned oil lamps were placed at street corners, in general at a considerable distance apart. The feeble light which these gave forth served but to show just now how thick was the darkness. The pathways or foot- walks were paved, narrow, and uneven; and in A MAN WHO HELPED HIM SELL. 27 point of cleanliness there was now little to choose between them and the cart roads. Taking his mother by the hand, Harry Birkett thought it best to keep to the centre of the streets, and through mist and mire they trudged on in silence. Mrs. Birkett since her residence in Poebeck had seldom gone abroad. In daylight the town was a maze to her ; at night, from her experience she was led to look upon it as something worse. The twists, twirls, and bends which the streets took, the curious nooks and “ crannies” to which they led, were not to her taste. She could not understand the jostling of people in the busy street, and never cared to try. Brought up in the retirement of rural life, unac¬ customed to the excitement of a thriving town, being, moreover, of a retiring disposition, to which had been added by misfortune a deep tinge of melancholy, she shrank from public gaze. She felt her humiliating position, and made it not one whit better by feeling it so acutely. By her neighbours Mrs. Birkett was looked on as haughty and reserved, and spoken of as proud and sulky. Her increasing family and diminished means involved her in daily struggles to provide food and raiment for the little ones ; and even had she been “ gifted” with the inclination, she never could have found time properly to attend to the 28 IIA EE Y EIRKETT ; THE STORY OF affairs of her neighbours and yet not neglect her own. Therefore it was ever likely her conduct would not escape criticism or condemnation. Social tyrannies are*found to exist in every grade of life; perhaps the lower in the scale the more grinding and relentless they become. "Who was this Mrs. Eirkett P some of the neighbours would like very much to know. Pride was all very well in its place; but when people were poor what would pride do for them ? And John Eirkett, who or what was he ? If he had been better off at one time he was as badly off as any one about now, and his wife was as hard put to it as any one of them before wages day came round. They all knew that; of course they did ! Why, then, should Mrs. Eirkett keep herself so much aloof? Why call her children in so soon from play, as if there was no one about good enough to be their companions ? Why, it had been commonly reported that Mrs. Eirkett had beaten her boy for taking a part in a “ rum butter feast” with one of his playmates. She wouldn’t have her children taking rum in any shape. A great lady, surely ! As if a little rum mixed with butter and given to children on the occasion of a christening could do any harm. Wasn’t it the custom of the country? Yes, to be sure ; but a fine lady like this, what did A MA5 WHO HELPED HIMSELF. 29 she care for customs ? They had no patience with such empty pride. A fall it would surely have, and they would see it. Except to Mrs. Brill, and a few people from her own county, who were now residing in Poebeck, Mrs. Birkett was unknown—that is, her conduct and habits of life were not understood; yet in no wise does the lack of knowledge form a shield against misrepresentation. That she did not meet her husband on wages night, and travel round by shops and the market, calling in at various drinking houses to see friends and treat others, was attri¬ buted to her pride, and most truly so. She was willing to suffer the reproach for this, and had to do it. She loathed the thought at any time to go into public-houses, or to hunt after or hang on him who had been at one time, and she hoped might be again, the head of a happy household, ordering all things aright. She believed still that there were moments in the life of her husband when he looked on his conduct with abhorrence, and she never could bring herself to think that by manifesting her want of faith in him, as she must do in the strongest manner, by waiting for him at the pay table, it would have any beneficial effect. True, she did on many and many occasions go forth in search of him when he stayed late and she sus- 30 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OF pected her assistance might be useful, but she would not wait at the pay table. She appealed to better and higher feelings, which in his sober moments she knew he had; and although her appeals were often vain her faith was ever strong. Her pride and love in this were strangely blended ; a pride that would not stoop to disgrace itself; a love which many and very deep waters of affliction could not quench. One of the inhabitants of Poebeck, who knew Mrs. Birkett in happier days, and one whom she was ever glad to see, was Bichard Boper, or, as he was now called, “ Old Dick Boper the Banter.” He had for some time past been the time-keeper at the works of Poebeck Pier, and had attached him¬ self to the Primitive Methodists, who were com¬ monly designated “ Banters.” To the residence of Dick the Banter, Harry Birkett now directed his mother’s steps. Boper was a tall, muscular, square-built man, with long, thick, grey, wiry hair, and large features, which, although not regular or finely chiselled, had yet a pleasing expression. His voice was deep and sonorous ; his manner of speaking remarkably de¬ liberate and impressive. His grasp of your hand was a matter not to be hastily forgotten, and he never pretended to more sincerity and earnestness A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 31 of character than his daily life displayed. He had been brought up at a forge, a steel manufactory, and his honesty and uprightness of life were said to be as true as the metal he had worked in. This Banter lived in a classic region of Poebeck —that is if names impart dignity to streets, courts, or alleys. Poets, essayists and historians had here their names, very indifferently painted on the corners of lanes or houses, and in many cases the locality was expressive of many, very many matters which the name would hardly be expected to suggest. The great essayist whose name adorned the corner of the alley where Boper lived might not have felt flattered by the compliment. Yet hearts beat here¬ abouts, under very commonplace coverings—hearts whose deep love and reverence for things sacred were as sincere, though not so refined, as any spoken of in the pages of the Spectator. As Harry and his mother crossed by the church to reach the alley the sound of singing broke upon them, and then Mrs. Birkett recollected it was the night for Boper’s meeting. As they turned into the alley they found the door of Boper’s house open, and the house filled with people joining in the devotional exercises. Women and men, most of them in very humble attire, were standing round the room. In the centre was a small round table, 32 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OF on which stood a very slender candle, placed in the neck of a tall bottle to give it elevation—the polished candlestick which hung over the mantel¬ shelf being probably too low. At the table stood Roper, and as Harry Birkett ascended the step (for the mother thought it best to wait until the end of the meeting before she spoke to Roper), the old man was giving out the verse— “While they enjoy his heavenly love Must I in torments dwell ; And howl, while they sing hymns above, And blow the flames of hell?” This sung to what was called “ a rattling good tune,” and the singers in the main being terribly in earnest, made Harry look very wildly about him, and cling very closely to the skirts of his mother’s gown. The last two lines were repeated several times, and each time the singing became louder, and the excite¬ ment greater, until Roper announced, “ Let us go to prayer,” when all kneeled devoutly, and the strong full voice of the old man w r as heard above the murmurs of all the worshippers, pouring forth in impassioned language a fervent supplication to the Most High. The forcible expressions used, the energetic action, the vivid pictures of a sinner’s state of mind, the utter worthlessness of self-righteous¬ ness, “ the filthy rags,” the misery of a lost spirit, A MAN WHO HELPED HiMSELE. 33 the glories of a redeemed saint, these all the boy could think of and talk of in years after, and, " As he grew in years, With these impressions would he still compare All his remembrances, thoughts, shapes, and forms.” The meeting having been brought to a close, RopeP shook the hand of each person present, and quoting some passage of Scripture applicable to the time and circumstances, bid them good-night, charging all as they left the house to “ take courage, be faithful to the grace given, and the day’s your own.” Harry observed that when his mother rose from her knees she had been weeping; and what with the excitement of the scene, the strange feelings which the singing had called forth in his mind, and the circumstances which his mother’s appearance here brought to his remembrance, he would fain have wept himself. Ropers daughter, a small hunch¬ backed woman, who kept house for her father, just then came towards the boy, and greeting him very cordially, the tears were checked. “ Well, Jane, my lass,” said Roper, approaching Mrs. Birkett, and looking very tenderly on her. “ Thy burthen is not light; thorns and briars are ever strewn across thy path; but greater is He that is for thee, than all that can be against thee. He putteth all his enemies to flight. Thou believes that, D 34 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OF surely,” and lie shook her trembling hand very heartily. Roper well knew Mrs. Birkett’s errand; he had seen John Birkett an hour after his discharge, had talked to him as to what he had best set about in order to support his family, had warned him of the companions, idle and vicious, who sought to entangle him and draw him from home, and charged him to cut olf at once and for ever his besetting sin; he feared all to little purpose. He would not however believe that John Birkett would desert his family; no, he would not believe that. Though when the devil gained the mastery and got his most powerful auxiliary, drink, on his side, it was hard to say what men might not do. “ There is hardly time for them to have got far, even if they have set off,” said Roper musing. “ They were seen at or near the Bowling-green about five o’clock, and I heard tell of some of their tools being pawned after that. It will perhaps turn out a ‘spree,’ nothing more. However, as you must very naturally feel uneasy, I’ll go with you to the village, where you say they are likely to be ; but the lad had better go home, Jane, hadn’t he ?” “ Oh, no, Richard,” said Mrs. Birkett, “ don’t send Harry home. If we can find father, I have great hopes that Harry will induce him to return’ i. A MAH' WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 35 many a night he has come home, as he said, to please Harry, or for Harry’s sake, when my entreaties were apparently of no avail. No ; let Harry come with me; he is not tired ; I never heard him say so when he was with me. Slim, as you say he is, and weakly, he is sprightly, very ; you’ll see how he will walk.” “ Well, well, it is no wish of mine to part you,” replied Boper ; “ but I don’t think much, Jane, of a child persuading a man to come home. Jolm may have said he came away on some time or other to please the lad, or on account of the lad, but that was just the devil working in him, and makiug him to vex thee ! The devil said (eh, lass, what a wary one that devil is !)—the devil said, ‘ Don’t thee go home for her ; don’t thee be led by a woman ; don’t thee do as Adam did.’ That’s what the devil said. And then John says to himself, 4 1 won’t go home for her ; I feel, though, that it is quite right I ought to go home ; I, feel, too, that all she says is true and just; but it will never do to allow her to see that I think so. Well, what’s to be done ? Why here is Harry—my son, Harry. Halloa ! Harry my boy, is that you P I’ll go home with you, my boy. Yes, yes, my little man, I’ll go home with you.’ That’s just the way of it: and that is, you may depend upon it, the devil’s own way of discoursing. The devil in a man without the drink is bad enough ; d 2 36 HARRY BIRKETT; THE STORY OF but I’ve beard it said that drink it was which brought the seven other devils into him!” "‘Now Buth,” said the old man, addressing his daughter, I will likely be away a couple of hours ; there’s c Grace Abounding’ in 4 the Kistthou can be going over it; and set the supper in the oven if thou goes to bed !” Boper, with Mrs. Birkett and Harry, made their way quickly out of the town. By the church, down towards the ship-yard, under the large arch, off on to the road where the sea-breeze greeted them, and where the surges sighed on the shore ; on by dark lanes, near which lay heaps of mineral waste piled up, past tall chimneys, from which ever and anon lurid flames leaped up, lighting for the moment the scene around. They drew near the shore again, voices were heard, lights were seen tossing to and fro ; the wind was rising, fishermen were making fast their boats, glad to find themselves on shore, and anxious to get home. Bain was falling ; what a sudden squall was this! Those who had seen Mrs. Birkett ere she set out —who had noticed her sometimes faltering step and careworn frame, would hardly expect she could weather a storm like this. How bravely she bore on! Boper kept steadily plodding on; the rain might beat, he never winced. “ Praise the Lord / A MAIN" WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 37 Jane,” said he, “we are in the path of duty;” and then he would burst out rapturously singing, “ Awhile forget your doubts and fears, And look beyond this vale of tears To that celestial Hill !” “ Come, Harry,” said he, “ thou must begin be¬ times ; there is a dark path before thee, my lad, but there’s light in the valley. Yes, yes, there’s light in the valley!” Harry did not care about singiug just now, and he was not quite sure if he understood what the light in the valley meant. He believed Mr. Roper to be a kind good man. His mother had ever told him to look on him as such. He thought, too, that the old man’s singing, and his altogether joyous feeling exhibited during the storm, were intended to cheer his mother’s drooping heart, and for this the boy looked on the old Ranter with a child’s love. They were now drawing nigh the village. It lay close to the sea, and consisted of one main street, with the houses of fishermen scattered about the beach. There was at one period a considerable trade carried on, but of late Poebeck had drawn most of this within itself, and the little place was more frequently heard of in connexion with rural sports and rustic enjoyments than anything else. An old friend of the Birkett family lived here, to whose 38 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OE house John frequently found his way, and here Mrs. Birkett hoped to learn something of her husband, it might be meet with him. This was on the route, too, that he was most likely to take if bent on leaving Poebeck. The storm had now somewhat abated; they were all very wet, but no complaint was heard. Harry leaped for joy as he saw the lights from the houses, indicating that rest and shelter would soon be afforded. As they turned down sharply on the village, the running of men to and fro, the moving of a lantern rapidly about, the short command given sharply, with the cry of a woman “ Oh ! men, do for God sake be quick,” startled the weary travellers. “ Lo ! on dangers, deaths and snares, I every moment tread,” said old Boper. " But, Jane, be faithful, my lass ; come on, Harry, quick, quick, this way. Bless us all, whoever is this ?” A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 39 CHAPTER IV. A SURPRISE AND CAPTURE. “Measure not men by Sundays, without regarding what they do all the week after.” Mrs. Birkett stood much in need of all the con¬ solation which Roper could afford, as wet, weary, and footsore, she approached the crowd which the screams and cries of a female had attracted. The kind old man knew this. He did not walk by her side for the last three miles without marking and pondering over the deep sighs which escaped her. A close insight into, or a profound and philosophic acquaintance with, the workings of the human mind, the old Ranter had not; he made no pretence to have this. He had, however, noticed the passions, various in character and degree, by which men were frequently swayed. In his mode of expressing it, he knew from experience what a cage of unclean birds man’s heart was likely to become if man rested solely on his own power, and suffered the evil sug¬ gestions of his nature to control his life and conduct. He had noticed, too, what deep feeling and affection there is in woman’s heart, how tenaciously it clings to its object, yet how often this is lost sight of, 40 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OF crushed out, or overlain by the inconsideration and selfishness of man. In his humble walk of life these matters were often forced upon him, and in no instance was all so clearly brought home as in that of his old neighbours, the Birkett family. Boper had a very simple, yet very expressive, way of uttering striking and solemn truths. Life to him was a stern reality; sin to him a monster which % he had hourly to contend against. Of man’s de¬ pravity and utter selfishness, as he said, “ Every day I live, I feel the one, and am compelled, painfully, to witness the other.” He was no self-styled philosopher; even the mode of expres¬ sion adopted by that philosophy which vaunteth itself he could not understand. John Bunyan’s “Life of Mr. Badman” he had read frequently. The Bible he read daily, and the more he read the better he liked it, and the clearer shone the sacred word. The reproofs which he would some¬ times give to profane swearers, and his constant efforts, as he termed them, to maintain the good fight, and bear above him at all times the standard of his Commander, led many to sneer at his pro¬ fession : but this never moved him. To a very subtle man, who worked at the pier and read Yolney, and who had on many occasions attacked Boper for his lack of philosophic knowledge, the old man one day A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELF. 41 replied, “ No, no ; thank God I do indeed know, as thou says, very little of philosophy. Stark naked facts stare me in the face every day, and what with thinking of them, praying for all around me, and striving to keep my feet from falling, I have quite enough to do and think of. Yolney did not, in all probability, act as a time-keeper! He had not a sickly and deformed child at home, a wife in the grave, two sons ploughing the deep, and one at home wallowing in the mire of sin ! No ! he was, I dare say, a learned man; but like many learned men he did, according to the account thou gives, know more of many things than he did about what concerned him most, the deceitfulness of his own heart.” The constant watchfulness and sober-mindedness displayed by Roper was often, even by his enemies, admired. As he said, no earthly joy could lift him off his feet, no earthly sorrow made him bow to the dust. In joy or sorrow his spirits seemed much the same, and with an earnest desire to do his duty, or what he religiously believed to be such, he met the frowns of the world, its trials and crosses, as become a man, not thinking himself great in so doing, but giving thanks that he was able to bear the burthen. There was, therefore, no expression of terror on his face, his step never faltered when the crowd gave way a little, and a man was borne off to the nearest I 42 HARRY BIRKETT; THE STORY OF public-house, his face cut, and his clothes soiled with mire and blood. “ Here, here!” shouted one of the villagers, who had assisted to rescue the man from the beck-side, down which he had fallen ; “ here is his tool-box ! this was lying beside him, and from his clothes I should think he is a mason, and the tools belong to him.” Mrs. Birkett rushed forward at the words “ he is a mason,” and snatching a lantern from the hand of a fisherman, brought the light to bear on the box lid. “ Thank God!” said she, “ thankful, indeed, I am, it is not my husband’s box ! Oh, Mr. Boper, is not this merciful ?” “Why, why,” said Boper, “bless us all; good¬ ness and mercy follow us all the days of our life. I told thee, Jane, to be faithful; bless us all. ” The old man turned round sharply to look for Harry; he was nowhere to be seen. Hot wishing to alarm Mrs. Birkett, whose fears had been some¬ what allayed, and whose joy was finding an utterance in tears, he turned back a little, but could see nothing of the boy; he was proceeding to make enquiries from the bystanders, when Harry came running up. “ Where’s my mother, Mr. Boper ? Oh! here she is. Mother, I ran after the man that the A MAX WHO HELPED IIIMSELE. 43 people carried into tlie little public-house,” said the boy, “ and who do you think it is ? Why Dent ! The big man that my Father calls Anak’s son! The woman says he is very badly hurt, and that she saw him in the town before it was dark, and two more masons with him. I asked her if she could tell me where the other men were, but she could not.”. “ Bless the boy !” said Mrs. Birkett: “ don't run away from us, Harry. It is very dark. We will be losing you next.” Old Boper knew the family where Mrs. Birkett wished to go. He had visited them often. One of his grandchildren had the hooping-cough a short time before, and it had been taken through the tunnel where the tramway ran, which was in those days considered and generally looked upon by the humbler classes as a certain remedy for hooping- cough ! The tunnel was not far from the village where they now were, and when children were taken through the tunnel they were not unfrequently taken further on, to the village. On the last occasion of Boper’s visit to Wilson’s cottage, John Birkett, his “ outward conduct,” the failing of his wife’s health, and the painful circumstances of the family, had formed the subject of conversation. Boper well knew that a kind reception there 44 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OF awaited Mrs. Birkett, and they made for the house. It lay a little off the road, on a grassy knoll, which commanded a fine view of the sea, the piers of Poebeck, the “ pits” above it, the headland beyond ; and, on a clear day, far away to the west could be seen the high hills and verdant slopes of a fair island, the history of which island Harry’s father had again and again recounted to him in the happy days when they rambled together, before John Birkett came to Poebeck, before he gave way to leaving his home in the evening, and leaving his wife and children to pass the time as they best could. At ordinary times this little fishing village, at this hour of night, would have been dark and silent. Hark enough it was ; but the commotion conse¬ quent upon finding the man who had rolled from the road into “the beck ” had created a stir. Both public-houses were generally open late. There was considerable rivalry between them. At one, the shoemaker, a red-haired man, with a wooden leg, and a great fund of stories, was a nightly visitor. His loquacity was only exceeded by his indifference to truth. Anything, no matter what, any other person may have read about, this man had seen! So he would declare. He had lost his leg at the siege of Badajos, and yet would stoutly declare that he had fought at "Waterloo. He had, according to A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 45 his own account, been one of those who were rescued from the black hole of Calcutta, and had afterwards been taken prisoner by the Moors in Spain! He exercised some discrimination in the selection of his stories, and made them in general to suit the temper and intelligence of his auditors, so far as he could judge. He looked cautiously around him, and scanned the company closely be¬ fore he ventured out of his depth, and the manner in which he would allay doubts as to the proba¬ bility of a story had been copied doubtless from a high authority. He descended to particulars. The smallest matter was not too small for him to notice. Instead of saying, “ It was afternoon when the command was given to advance,” he would relate it in this wise: “ I had just filled my pipe, and was sitting on the grass chatting away to Bill Swankey. Bill came oft Morton way, and we had known each other from infancy. 11 Bill/ says I, ‘I wonder what Polly Binns thinks about us, now / she was a nice girl was Polly, and Bill and I used to go nutting with her. Just then the bugle sounded; up I jumps, pulls out my watch ; it was half-past tw r o o’clock, or it might have been twenty- five minutes to three, for my watch wanted clean¬ ing, and had not gone very well since the bullet went through it! ‘ Halloa/ says I, £ we will have an 46 HA.REY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OE early tea some of us to-day, for the grey devils are driving down on us!” Explicit statements of this sort set all doubts at rest, and so famed had the fighting shoemaker be¬ come, that it was more than hinted by the neigh¬ bours that the stout old widow who kept the house had secured the services of the story-teller by giving him his drink free. At the Dolphin, the other public-house, two Chelsea pensioners were now located, and had been for some time. It was said their stories were not so good as the shoemaker’s, and it was a subject of remark that they did not draw so many customers as the wooden-legged man. Then as “ the ale was no great things,” and the spirits were said to be “ worse than ought ” at both places, what appeared the only sources of attraction to the houses at all, in the eyes of some men, was the company, the sociality, the story-telling. Books were scant, newspapers were dear, and, consequently, scant too. These story-tellers at the public-house kitchen were said to furnish recreation for the people during the long evenings; what was heard here was sometimes believed and retailed, hence the wonderful historical narratives which may even yet be listened to in remote corners of the land. John Birkett, with two of his companions, had A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 47 made bis way out of Poebeck in the evening, and had reached the Dolphin, where the pensioners were discussing the character of the Allied Troops during the Peninsular War. One contending that they were, in the main, “ wastrels,” only fit to be shot, or, if allowed to remain on earth, ought to be subjected to continual bondage. The other main¬ tained that they were as good fighters as the British, but they could not move with such pre¬ cision or rapidity. The wordy conflict waxed warm when John Birkett set down his box and called for a pint of ale. He was soon engaged on the side of the British. He had read with tolerable care the history of the Peninsular War, had a high opinion of the Duke of Wellington, which these men, although they had gone through the whole campaign, had not. On many subjects views are considerably modified, if not changed, by closer observation. Wellington / was no hero to them, his generalship was called into question, his discipline denounced. As the argument became warmer, the ale was called for more freely, and high words ensued. Birkett and his companions were likely to obtain the best of the argument, but for peace sake were rather un¬ ceremoniously thrust from the house. Drink had now got a fair hold on John Birkett. 48 HARRY EIRKETT ; THE STORY OE He thought as a matter of course that he was a deeply injured man,—that society dealt unjustly with her most worthy sons, or he would not be in his present position. Men with not half the brains —no, nor half the education,—were in situations where they might in years realise fortunes, and here he was actually turned out of a paltry village * inn by a couple of scarecrow pensioners ! He had left his home, his family, what was he to do ? Amidst thoughts which puff up and inflate a man, and which are so peculiar to the early stages of a drunkard’s life, there were others which could not be kept down. In this village he had a friend who, were he as he ought to be, would be glad to see him —would be glad to shelter him from the storm. But he could not go to 'Wilson’s. No ! neither would he return home. To do the first would be to expose himself more than ever to the reproofs of a very kind old friend. To do the second would expose him to the ridicule of his fellow-workmen in Poebeck. The resolution to leave home at all, had been come to more in a spirit of bravado than anything else ; and, further, it was the worst of all bravado—that pro¬ duced by drink, and drawn from a man by his drunken companions. Birkett was in that state of mind now as almost to wish for some excuse to return home. He would like to do right, but he A MxVTs' WHO HELPED HIMSELF, 49 must have some proper apology for doing so ! It was manly and courageous to neglect his employ¬ ment, sacrifice his work, brave the trials of a tramping life! To be sure it was! Had he not sung a song on the glories of tramping ? “ With my tool-box o’er my shoulder, And my blackthorn in my hand ; Then o’er the hills we go, my boys, Like roving journeymen !” His companions, on leaving the Dolphin, staggered about the streets, shouting and singing; and John, after musing a little, and finding he had some trifle of money still left, seeing the door of the Crown open, stumbled in, and here his better thoughts were soon stifled. The red-haired shoe¬ maker was an old familar face. He had been met with at Poebeck. j In story-telling they had been pitted against each other: but Birkett in every case had to yield to the wooden-legged warrior, on the score of “ garnishing.” Birkett’s stories were very probable, very laughable, very humorous ; but the warrior’s were very circumstantial, very full, very exciting, and very wonderful. Birkett had no chance with such an antagonist. Mrs. Birkett and her son, together with old Roper, after having had some refreshment, came down the village, with Mr. Wilson, in search of E 50 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OF John Birkett. They called in at the Dolphin. Dent, the man who had fallen and injured himself, had been put to bed, and there had been a messen¬ ger despatched for the doctor. Dent was sobered somewhat, and could tell them where he left Birkett. On hearing this they set off to the Crown, and as Boper entered, Birkett was, much to the amusement of the company, giving a description of a rustic dance in his native village, illustrating his narrative by a jig and a few steps of a hornpipe. “Well, John, John,” said Boper, “thou art losing thyself sadly. I never expected to see thee make such a fool of thyself. To think of a man like thee, as might become a blessing to thy family and all around thee, making a Tom Noddy of thyself to please rabble like this.” The old Banter scowled on all around. John Birkett had taken too much drink to feel ashamed, and respected the old man too much to become impertinent; therefore, making a show of good humour, he stopped in the midst of his dance and walked forward, offering his hand to Boper. “ Nay, nay, John, Ill have no shaking of hands with thee until I see thee shake hands, ay, and join heart, too, with some one else! Thou art a child of many prayers, John—and it is sad to see thee striving against thy best feelings. Come away!” A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELF. 51 The old man was moving off. John hesitated. The red-haired storyteller looked at John, saying, “ So your captain is the old [Ranter parson, is it ? Well! well! there are, I suppose, fools of all sorts!” “ Come away, John, come away, man, don’t dally with the tempter,” called out Roper. On turning round hastily to leave the room John Birkett stood before his weeping wife. Harry ran to him—“ Oh ! father, we have had such a walk to find you, and mother, I am sure, is very tired,” said the boy. John Birkett could make no reply. 52 HARRY RIRKETT ; THE STORY OF CHAPTEE Y. FATHER AT HOME AGAIN. I “ The first sure symptom of a mind in health, Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home.” John Birkett was glad to have the opportunity of returning home; but there was little outward manifestation of this. Eoper had no doubt what¬ ever (as he had expressed himself to Mrs. Birkett) that John might resume his employment at the pier, if he could be prevailed upon, or if he wmuld so far control himself as to give up the habit of drinking. He was a good workman, expert, hard¬ working, and skilful; and he knew this. He prided himself on his work, was inclined to boast of it at the beer-table; heard men speak in high terms of his ability, and rather liked to hear such remarks. This begat what he looked upon as “ an indepen¬ dent spirit,” and what is called so by many men to this day. This so-called independent spirit led him not A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 53 unfrequently to treat with the most perfeet indif¬ ference the wishes or directions of those whom he had undertaken to serve. It might he that he knew his work well; yes, perhaps better than some placed in authority over him. Then why should he submit to be dictated to, he wanted to know. Often asked the question of himself, and when surrounded by “jovial mortals” asked them to little purpose. Toolish mail, with many fellows! How vain it is to ask the question with the glass in the hand ! Men talking with spirited or “ beery” eloquence of the rights of labour—its dignity ; yet, whilst in the very act of talking, they are fatally neglecting its duties ! Had John Birkett been as careful to discharge the one as he was boastingly to talk of the other, he would have placed himself in the only true path rightly to obtain what he could now only talk of. AVith his ability, promo¬ tion would have been certain, and instead of having, * as he considered, to submit to dictation, he might have been a dictator himself! But he could not in the matter of drink control himself, and did not like in the matter of work to be controlled by another. It “ cut him to the quick,” he had been heard to say; yet he, who on many subjects dis¬ played good sense, on this point displayed great weakness. He felt that he ought to be in a better 54 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OE position, yet was not content to undergo the trials and labour in order to reach it. Nay, so far from this, the feelings which such a spirit engendered threw more obstacles in his way than anything else. Knowing what a delightful prospect there is to be obtained from the summit of a mountain is not alone sufficient to take a man up; he must climb. And very often the more perilous the ascent, the harder the climb, the more the prospect is enjoyed, and most certainly the better it is remembered. Birkett wished to be up, but would not climb. Boper and John Birkett walked home together. Harry and his mother followed. There was not much talk, except between the two men, and this was chiefly on the proposal of Boper that John Birkett should, in the morning, go to the foreman of the masons and ask to be taken on. This gave rise to an animated discussion. Birkett could not brook this. He was not drunk; he had gone just so far as to have imbibed a good deal of “ the inde¬ pendent spirit,” which would not allow him to say he was sorry for his conduct, wished to amend, and only now wanted the opportunity to enable him to display the sincerity of his desire. When did the independent spirit ever permit a man to be so honest ? Yet it is hard to see what meaning words A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. can have if there be such a feeling as independence without honesty. Roper took this view. He could see very little independence in the fact of a man losing time and spending money by carousing in ale-houses, thus often disgracing himself in the eyes of his fellows, degrading himself and family, plunging himself in debt, and his family in domestic and social misery, leaving wife and children to the tender mercies and considerate care of poor people who, in the main, had enough to do to take care of themselves. As the old Ranter said, with great warmth, “ "Why, John, if that’s thy independence, or if that is all it will do for thee, for thy own sake, my lad, get rid of it altogether. I have heard men say they were independent, and w r ere determined to be indepen¬ dent, when they were, to my mind, downright * impudent; yes, impudent, and nought else. Thou shouldn’t talk much about independence until thou has done thy duty faithfully in that station of life to which it has pleased the Lord thy God to call thee, and that thou never can say to me thou hast done. Hay, John, the drink may make thee fancy thyself a fine fellow; but as thou likes proverbs, I’ll give thee one, * Handsome is as handsome does,’ my lad.” Birkett was about to resent this home-thrust, but 5 J HAEEY EIEKETT; TI1E STOEY OE the old mat was too expert for him just now. “Don’t, John,” said he, “ don’t let the devil have the mastery; put a bridle on thy tongue to-night and I’ll listen to thee some other time ; it will not be John Birkett that will speak now, it will only be the devil that is in him. I like to hear thee talk well enough, I’ve listened to thee with pleasure many a time—but as for that unclean spirit which thou hast given way to and allows to ride rough¬ shod over thy better trimmed self, why, to speak plainly, I don’t heed what he says. He was a liar from the beginning, and he mends none—not him.” Before they parted for the night Roper whispered a few words to Mrs. Birkett, patted Harry on the head, and then turning to John, said, “How, I’ll expect to see thee to-morrow, and just take this home with thee. If thou gives way to the inde¬ pendence thou talks about, and it does for thee what it has done for others, thou’ll soon have to be independent of thy wife ! Jane is going down hill fast, very fast. A walk like this is enough to finish the woman. She was given to thee graciously, nay, I saw thee take her from her father’s house, and right proud thou did look of her that morning; and will it ever be said that John Birkett neglected, nay, deserted the wife of his youth—the pride of his house? God forbid, John ! God forbid! I’ll A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELF. 37 pray for thee, John. Good-night, Jane ! be faithful my lass.” The stern old man turned off to reach his lonely home, leaving one heart beating with fervent grati¬ tude, and another stung intensely by his faithful admonition. When the Birketts reached home, Mr. and Mrs. Brill were both in the room. The child had been very cross, and Mr. Brill did not like the look of the night, therefore stayed at home “to help Nelly.” There was very little said. Mrs. Brill had the sagacity to see that, under the circumstances, the sooner all were left to themselves the better, al¬ though she did manage to get out of Mrs. Birkett where she had been, where and how she found # John, and what a kind good man Roper was. All of which Mr. Brill listened to in a very few minutes after. The words of Roper with reference to Mrs. Birkett’s health made a deep impression on the mind of Harry. It was not that he understood their full meaning (the old Ranter made many allusions which the boy failed to perceive) ; but in this case he knew so much of what was intended that he could not forget it. He watched his mother very closely when she came into the room to take away the candle after he was in bed. He saw that 58 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OF her eyes were moist, and he felt how cold her lips were as she impressed them on his with a kind “ Good-night, Harry.” He was very tired, quite weary, yet he could not sleep. If a doze came on, he found himself as he thought stumbling along the dark road, and as his mother pressed his hand more firmly to prevent him falling, he would start up from the reverie to find the words of Eoper ringing in his ears, “ Jane is going down the hill fast, very fast.” “ Suppose, then,” mused Harry, “ Mr. Eoper means mother is not well, or she will he taken awav from us—will die. "What will we do? What can I work at ? Where will my sisters go ? My father is not much at home with us now ; will he stop with us, play with us, teach us to read and do sums, as he once did a long while ago ? Oh, but Mother will not go! She will be better ! We will all be well off again ! We will be in a better house, too.” Sleep the boy could not. What a dreary night that was. All the scenes of his short life moved rapidly before him. In all, mother was the prin¬ cipal figure. How she was sitting with him by the cottage door, and telling him of the great labour she and her eldest brother had to plant the rose- tree by which they were then overshadowed. Then he would be with her in the church, sitting on the A MAK WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 59 low stool, and if lie dared to stir her eye detected his slightest motion, and gently chided him. Then he was with her by the river, looking at the fisher¬ men drawing the salmon nets. What excitement there was as the fish, struggling to regain their liberty, were being drawn to land; how they startled him when they leaped and flapped and bruised them¬ selves on the boat. Then he was passing through the woods with mother, and she would go into the thicket and bring out for him a dock-leaf filled with wild raspberries, and show him where to look for the bilberry; tell him the habits of birds, and teach him to distinguish their different songs, which he was so fond of listening to. Then they would get out on the rough hill-side; down beneath them were variegated fields and slopes feathered with hazel trees ; and far away beyond, the sea, and the old abbey lands being laved by it. Here, under the shadow of a large clump of firs, the bible story¬ book would be read to him, and she would show him the pictures. What big heads, large beards, and curious dresses all the people had in the book; how very friendly thev seemed with all sorts of animals ; what large flowers grew in those parts, so large that a rose often concealed the bodv of a man ; it was a wonderful picture-book. Yes, and he heard his mother say,— “ This was given to me on my birth- GO HARRY BIRKETT ; TILE STORY OE day, Harry, and if you are a good boy, it shall be yours some birthday soon.” So the night passed on; the boy in a dreamy state dozed the time away. Deep sleep at length fell upon him, and it was late next day when his mother called him up; he thought she spoke very cheerful; he thought she looked very pleasant; his father had gone out; two of his sisters were at school, and one w r as nursing, whilst mother busied herself about the house. Mrs. Brill coming in, Harry learned by this means that his father had been heard to express regret that he had so far forgotten himself as to be led away by Dent. The words of Boper, too, had sank into his heart; oh, how they stung him ! To think that he should be reproached by Boper, that he should put it into any one’s power to charge him with desert¬ ing his wife. Yes, and then to think that Wilsons should know, the very people whom, above all others, he was desirous of showing a good side to ; people who were in frequent correspondence with his relatives in his native village. Drink had obtained considerable power over him, but it had not yet succeeded in crushing out all self-respect, or that pride of heart which is often called by such a name. No; neither should it. He would let the world see that he had as good a resolution A MAN WHO IIELPED HIMSELE. Cl as any other man; that he could take a glass' of ale and leave it alone if he liked. Oh, yes, he was in great moral strength this morning; he, under the gentle chiding from his wife, and the stinging remarks of Eoper, felt himself bristling with resolutions to do great deeds. Poor John! this was a state of mind he often experienced. He knew very well what was good for him, what was best for him or his family—to he sure he did; he would do it too. Yes, he had within himself strength enough to accomplish all; yet something prevented him carrying these grand resolves out— that was all. Yes, that was all! Birkett, much to the joy of his wife and her friends, resumed his employment at the pier. The ** diving-bell was then in operation, and he had fre¬ quently to go down in it; and so interested did he become in the curious physical laws which this mode of stone-laying brought before him, that for several weeks no sign of his old habit returned. He was very serious, and his evenings were spent in the instruction of his children. This was, when sober, his habit. Not one of his girls had ever much money spent on their education. Beading, writing and arithmetic, he taught them fairly; and what with tasks during the day, mother’s help, and his close examination during the evenings, he pro- * jO 62 HARRY BIRKETT ; THE STORY OE # I duced tolerable scholars for those days. Pearing that the girls would lose what they had obtained, Mrs. Birkett, when her husband was in a drinking humour, got them off to a free school, or a school which was so cheap it might be said to be almost free. Por in Poebeck, much as some people were given to sneer at it for “ a smoky coal-hole,” the more wealthy citizens had set on foot several insti¬ tutions of a philanthropic and benevolent character, of which, even in these present days of unbounded wealth, enlightened zeal, and remarkable munifi¬ cence, the little town of Poebeck need not be ashamed, but ought to feel in every way proud of. All honour to them! Be it the result of coals or tobacco there it is, and long may its influence be felt. Harry Birkett, to use his father’s expression, was getting above his hands. The boy read with great avidity, could not write much, did not care about that, but was fond of “ doing sums.” Birkett’s trade—the measurement it involved (because the masons worked by piece, the stones being hewn at so much per foot)—led to his frequently setting to work and reckoning up what he would be likely to earn, supposing certain stones which he had been engaged on were wrought, checked and passed by the inspector. Hence the boy, having obtained a A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 63 \ tolerable knowledge of the first rules of arithmetic, would stand by tbe table eagerly watching his father, and thus “ picked up a notion of cross mul¬ tiplication—and square root.” Then he was con¬ tinually asking questions. “What” and “Why” father said were never out of his mouth. “ It’s of no use,” said Birkett one evening to his wife, “ Harry must go to a master’s school. He would soon go further than I can pretend to take him. I wish you would make inquiries respecting a master, a strict man, he must be that,” Mrs. Birkett was delighted to hear her husband speak thus. She had often wished Harry to be placed at a good school, and had intended, if by no other means it could be schemed, that his own earnings should go towards his education. He had been occasionally—“ off an’ on”—at the old woman’s school. Here the mistress used to send him for • snuff to the market-place, get the boys in turn to do little odd jobs of household work, and in return she very considerately gave them holiday at high- water; and when the bathing season was on she was most liberal in her allowance of time for bathing on “ the little sands” or “ the beach.” If the children had not much opportunity of strength¬ ening the mind, they had many chances of invigo¬ rating the body, and the games of skill and deeds 64 HARRY BIRKETT-; THE STORY OF of daring entered upon at these seasons had much to do with the formation of character and with the practice of self-reliance. Matters not in any sense to he slighted, or lightly esteemed. No one was so likely to assist Mrs. Birkett in the choice of a master for her son as Mrs. Brill. Accordingly, she was consulted. “ You know many people in town, Mrs. Brill, I dare say,” said Mrs. Birkett. < tramp the country for employment had it not been for drink. You’ll pardon me, I’m sure, but I’d rather not touch. I have forty-five miles to walk during the next two days, and I fear this would not he]p me.” I 124 IIAERY EIEKETT ; THE STORY OE Oh! how earnestly Harry looked at his father, and how imploringly he looked at these handsome young men, as they pressed the drink upon him! "When his father had positively refused to taste, the boy’s heart leaped for joy. “ Oh, bother! you are one of those men who cannot but abuse, therefore you think that you ought not to use what was intended for man’s comfort, to cheer his heart, to make his heart glad! Come, don’t be stupid; a small taste of brandy will assist you during your tramp. Come, here you are; you will not often get the chance of tasting that sort of thing.” The young men could see that John was falter¬ ing. “ Oh ! he wanted coaxing,” said one. “ He’s too sly by half,” said another. John laughed at these sallies : he did not like to be rude ; they were kind; had given Harry a shilling for carrying the rods; it was altogether stupid looking to treat gentlemen in such a way; he might just taste with them for the social appearance of the thing—to be sure he might; and amidst great laughter to be sure he did. The flask emptied, the young men got their cigar-cases out, and John produced from his pocket his small pipe and tobacco-pouch, and the party smoked and chatted for almost an hour, finishing A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 125 up by John obtaining from the future parsons a good stiff parting glass of brandy, which they said would make him spin along as if a proctor was after him. John Birkett and his son reached the highway again. After leaving the village, the country opened out on the right, and a fine valley, stretch¬ ing away to the sea, flanked with hills that have made the county famous, kindled the old love of the man, and he talked away to his son of the brave old knights and their supporters who had fought and bled hereabouts. About six miles further on they would halt for the night. He had told Harry to look out for a stream dashing over the rocks which were now rising on the right. When that cascade was reached they were near their journey’s end for that day; and as the boy felt tired, he strained his eyes to look for the cascade, and stopped now and then to listen for the roll of the water. His patience was at length rewarded; and tired as Harry was, he crept up the ghill where the stream fell; and amidst the spray of the force, and under the clusters of the hazels, gazing at the cone-topped larch, and watching the restless leaves of the silver birches which sprang from the cleft of the dark fern-covered rocks, he wondered where his mother was, and how she would rejoice to see such a sight as this. I 126 IIAEBY .blEKETT ; THE STOBY OF “ Come on ; Harry, my boy,” said John, rather impatiently; come on, we are just by the inn, now. X m very thirsty, so come along$ you can come out and look up the ghill, or climb to the head of the force, if you like, after tea.” 1 ery few minutes after they entered a small roadside inn, and an old woman gave the two travellers a Jdndly greeting. S l A MAN WHO HELPED HIMSELE. 127 CHAPTER XI. THE BATTLE OE LIFE BEGINS. “ The battle of our life is birief ; The alarm—the struggle—the relief; Then sleep we side by side.” The house in which Birkett and his son spent their first night from home was a very humble roadside inn, the only one within a radius of several miles. Birkett was known to the hostess, who was glad to see him, and who set before him a sub¬ stantial and comfortable meal. As evening crept on, visitors came straggling in, and the large parlour was, before dark, filled with farmers and farm labourers, village smiths, and the shopkeeper; neither was the shoemaker wanting to contribute his share to the amusement of the company around the ale-table. ITarry Birkett was very sleepy, so much so that the good woman suggested the pro¬ priety of his going to bed, even before the evening customers had begun to turn in. Again and often the boy asked father to come to bed, without effect.