From Crow-Scaring to Westminster; an Autobiography

In the middle of the nineteenth century there lived in the parish of Marsham, Norfolk, (a little village about ten miles from Norwich and one and a half miles from Aylsham), a couple of poor people by the name of Thomas and Mary Edwards. Thomas Edwards was the second husband of Mary Edwards, whose first husband was Robert Stageman. He died in consumption and left her with three little children to support. In due course she married Thomas Edwards, by whom she had four children, the entire family numbering seven.

Thomas Edwards enlisted in His Majesty's Army, served ten years, was sent over to Spain, and fought in the interests of the young Queen Isabel.

In those days a man who had been a soldier was looked upon as being an inefficient workman, no matter what his experience had been before enlistment, and further, he was looked upon by the general public as a rather undesirable character, no matter what his record might have been whilst in the Army, and was considered fit only to be thrown on the scrapheap. Such was the experience of Thomas Edwards.

Before his enlistment he was an experienced agricultural labourer. Nothing was known against his character and during his ten years' service in His Majesty's Army he bore a most exemplary character. When the Civil War broke out in Spain this country decided to render help to the Queen. Thomas Edwards was sent over with the 60th Rifles. The war lasted about eighteen months and our troops suffered the greatest privations. Few of the troops returned to tell the tale. Of those that were not killed in action, many died of disease.

These heroes were made to believe that although they were fighting in a foreign country, they were fighting for their own King and Country, and were promised that at the conclusion of the war each man that returned should receive a bounty of ￡9. This promise was never fulfilled, so far as Thomas Edwards was concerned, nor anyone else so far as he knew.

Thomas, on being discharged from the Army, returned to his native village penniless. The Army pay was only 1s. 1d. per day, and on being discharged he expected that a grateful country would assist him to make a start again in civilian life. But no such good fortune awaited him. On returning to his village he sought to obtain work as an agricultural labourer, but no such employment could he find. For weeks he walked the roads in search of work, but could not find any.

At this period there was a great depression in trade, especially in agriculture. It was in the years 1830 to 1833. It is on record that more than half of the people were receiving poor relief in some shape or form. Bread was 1s. 6d. per 4 lb. loaf. Married men received a wage of 9s. per week, single men 6s. per week. The Guardians adopted a system of supplementary wages by giving meal money according to the number in family, and by so doing enabled the farmers to pay a scandalously low wage. The poor-rate rose to 22s. in the pound, unemployment was most acute. In a large number of villages half the men were without work.

Thus this hero, like many others, was workless. The unemployed grew restless and on November 6, 1833, a village meeting was held to demand food. The inhabitants of the parish of Marsham held a meeting which was largely attended, the unemployed turning up in strong force and showing a very threatening attitude. The meeting, however, commenced with the repetition of the Lord's Prayer. Following some very angry words, a resolution was moved demanding work and better wages. To the resolution were added the words: "The labourer is worthy of his hire."

This resolution was moved by Thomas Edwards, and a farmer who was present told him he might go and pluck blackberries again or starve, for he should have no work, and he kept his word.

What this threat meant was soon discovered. My father on his return home penniless, unable to get work, and without food, was forced to pick blackberries from the hedges to eat. One day this particular farmer caught him in his field and ordered him off, telling him he would have no -- tramps in his field picking blackberries.

So insult was added to injustice to this honest man who had fought, he was told, for his country.

Before Christmas in that year he sought shelter in the workhouse, which was then at Buxton. There he remained all the winter. In the following spring he took himself out and got work as a brickmaker.

The summer being over, he obtained employment as a cattle-feeder, but at 1s. per week less than other labourers; and although he had to work seven days, he received the noble sum of 8s. per week. The reason given for paying this low wage was that he had been in the Army and was not an able-bodied workman. No more unjust treatment could be meted out to anyone.

It was in the year of 1840-the year of Queen Victoria's marriage-that Thomas Edwards married the young widow, Mary Stageman. She had been left with three little children, and had herself been an inmate of the workhouse during her late husband's illness.

The first child born to this couple was a son, whom they named Joseph, the second was named John, and the third was a girl, whom they named Harriet. Between this child and the next to live there was a period of five years. All of this family are now dead with the exception of my sister and myself. As the family increased, their poverty increased. Wages were decreased, and had it not been for the fact that my mother was able to add a little to her husband's wages by hand-loom weaving (which was quite a village industry at that time), the family would have been absolutely starved. Hand-loom weaving was a most sweated industry. One man in the village would go to Norwich and fetch the raw material from the factory and take the finished work back. This weaving was principally done by women, who were paid for it by the piece, that is, so many yards to the piece at so much per piece. A certain sum was deducted to pay the man for the time spent in carrying the work backward and forward to Norwich. If there was any defect in the weaving, then another sum was deducted from the price which should have been paid, and the employers never lost an opportunity of doing this. Poor sweated workers were robbed at every turn.

I have known my mother to be at the loom sixteen hours out of the twenty-four, and for these long hours she would not average more than 4s. a week, and very often less than that.

THE AUTHOR'S BIRTHPLACE, MARSHAM, NORFOLK.

It was on October 5, 1850, that Mary Edwards bore her last baby boy.

The cottage in which the child was born was a miserable one of but two bedrooms, in which had to sleep father, mother, and six children. At this time my father's wage had been reduced to 7s. per week. The family at this time was in abject poverty. When lying in bed with the infant the mother's only food was onion gruel. As a result of the bad food, or, properly speaking, the want of food, she was only able to feed the child at her breast a week. After the first week he had to be fed on bread soaked in very poor skimmed milk. As soon as my mother was able to get about again she had to take herself again to the loom, and the child was left during the day to the care of his little sister, who was only five years his senior, and many a shaking did she give him when he cried.

At the christening the parents named the child George, a record of which can be found in the register of the Parish Church, Marsham.

Whether my mother had any presentiment that this child had a career marked out for him different from the rest of the family, I am unable to say, but I sometimes think she had. That this was indeed so has been lately brought to my knowledge.

I have recently revisited the scenes of my childhood days, and met in the village an old man who declares that my mother often said that one day her son George would be a Member of Parliament! What gift of vision this mother must have possessed, for in those days it was never imagined that the doors of Westminster would open to the child of such humble parentage! Her prophecy was partly fulfilled in her lifetime, for she lived to see me a member of a Board of Guardians and Rural District Council, and chairman of the first Parish Council for the village in which I then lived.

At the time of my birth my father was again a bullock feeder, working seven days a week, leaving home in the morning before it was light, and not returning in the evening until it was dark. He never saw his children at this time, except for a little while on the Sunday, as they were always put to bed during the winter months before his return from work. The condition of the family grew worse, for, although the Corn Laws were repealed in 1849, the price of food did not decrease to any great extent, but wages did go down. Married men's wages were reduced from 9s. to 8s. per week, and single, men's wages from 7s. to 6s. per week. It was the rule in those days that the single men should work for 2s. per week less than the married men. Before the repeal of the Corn Laws had the effect of reducing the cost of living to any great extent, the great Crimean War broke out. This, it will be remembered, was in 1854. Food rose to famine prices. The price of bread went up to 1s. per 4 lb. loaf, sugar to 8d. per lb., tea to 6d. per oz., cheese rose from 7d. per lb. to 1s. 6d. per lb.-in fact, every article of food rose to almost prohibitive figures. The only article of food that did not rise to such a proportionately high figure was meat, but that was an article of food which rarely entered a poor man's home, except a little piece of pork occasionally which would weigh about 1? lb., and this would have to last a family of nine for a week! Very often this small amount could not be obtained-in fact it can be truly said that in those days meat never entered my father's house more than once or twice a year!

The only thing which did not rise to any great extent was wages. True, able-bodied married men's wages did rise again in Norfolk to 9s. per week. Single men did not share in the rise. My father at this time was taking 8s. per week of seven days.

I was then four years of age, and the hardships of those days will never be erased from my memory. My father's wages were not sufficient to buy bread alone for the family by 4s. per week. My eldest brother Joseph, who was twelve years old, was at work for 1s. 6d. per week, my second brother John, ten years old, was working for 1s. 2d. per week. My sister worked filling bobbins by the aid of a rough hand machine to assist my mother in weaving. My step-brothers apprenticed themselves to the carpentering and joinery trade by the aid of a little money which was left them by their late father's brother, who died in South America. My other stepbrother went to sea.

In order to save the family from actual starvation my father, night by night, took a few turnips from his master's field. These were boiled by my mother for the children's supper. The bread we had to eat was meal bread of the coarsest kind, and of this we had not half enough.

We children often used to ask this loving mother for another slice of bread, and she, with tears in her eyes, was compelled to say she had no more to give.

As the great war proceeded the condition of the family got worse. My sister and I went to bed early on Saturday nights so that my mother might be able to wash and mend our clothes, and we have them clean and tidy for the Sunday. We had no change of clothes in those days. This work kept my mother up nearly all the Saturday night, but she would be up early on the Sunday morning to get our scanty breakfast ready in time for us to go to Sunday-school.

This was the only schooling I ever had!

From my earliest days, as soon as I could be, I was sent to Sunday-school to receive the teaching of the principles of religion and goodness. My father used to keep our little boots in the best state of repair he could. God alone knows or ever knew how my parents worked and wept and the sufferings and privations they had to undergo. I particularly refer to my mother. I have seen both faint through overwork and the lack of proper food.

I owe all I am and have to my saintly father and mother. It was they who taught me the first principles of righteousness.

* * *

It was in the year 1855 when I had my first experience of real distress. On my father's return home from work one night he was stopped by a policeman who searched his bag and took from it five turnips, which he was taking home to make his children an evening meal. There was no bread in the house. His wife and children were waiting for him to come home, but he was not allowed to do so.

He was arrested, taken before the magistrates next day, and committed to prison for fourteen days' hard labour for the crime of attempting to feed his children! The experience of that night I shall never forget.

The next morning we were taken into the workhouse, where we were kept all the winter. Although only five years old, I was not allowed to be with my mother.

On my father's release from prison he, of course, had also to come into the workhouse. Being branded as a thief, no farmer would employ him. But was he a thief? I say no, and a thousand times no! A nation that would not allow my father sufficient income to feed his children was responsible for any breach of the law he might have committed.

In the spring my father took us all out of the workhouse and we went back to our home. My father obtained work at brickmaking in the little village of Alby, about seven miles from Marsham. He was away from home all the week, and the pay for his work was 4s. per thousand bricks made, and he had to turn the clay with which the bricks were made three times. He was, however, by the assistance of one of my brothers, able to bring home to my mother about 13s. per week, which appeared almost a godsend. In the villages during the war hand-loom weaving was brought to a standstill, and thus my mother was unable to add to the family income by her own industry.

On coming out of the workhouse in March 1856 I secured my first job. It consisted of scaring crows from the fields of a farmer close to the house. I was then six years of age, and I was paid 1s. for a seven-day week. My first pay-day made me feel as proud as a duke. On receiving my wage I hastened home, made straight for my mother and gave her the whole shilling. To her I said:

"Mother, this is my money. Now we shall not want bread any more, and you will not have to cry again. You shall always have my money. I will always look after you."

In my childish innocence I thought my shilling would be all she needed. It was not long, however, before I discovered my mistake, but my wage proved a little help to her. I am glad to recall in these days that I did keep my promise to her always to look after her, and my wife had the unspeakable pleasure of taking her to our home, and we looked after her for six years out of my 15s. a week, without receiving a penny from anyone, the Board of Guardians refusing to allow her anything in the nature of poor relief. My wife's mother also lived with us for sixteen years, and died at our house, and for twenty-two years of my married life I maintained these two old people.

My troubles began in the second week of my employment. Having to work long hours, I had to be up very early in the morning, soon after sunrise, and remain in the fields until after sunset. One day, being completely worn out, I unfortunately fell asleep. Equally unfortunately for me the crows were hungry, and they came on to the field and began to pick the corn. Soon after the farmer arrived on the scene and caught me asleep, and for this crime at six years of age he gave me a severe thrashing, and deducted 2d. from my wage at the end of the week. Thus I had only 10d. to take home to my mother that week. But my mother was too good to scold.

Having finished crow-scaring for that season, I was set looking after the cows, to see that they did not get out of the field, and take them home in the evening to be milked. This I continued to do all the summer.

In 1856, I entered upon my first harvest. During the wheat-cutting I made bonds for the binders. There were no reaping machines in those days, the corn all having to be cut by the scythe. Women were engaged to tie up the corn, and the little boys made bonds with which to tie the corn. For this work I received 3d. per day, or at the rate of 1s. 6d. per week.

When the wheat was carted I led the horse and shouted to the loaders to hold tight when the horse moved. When this work was finished and there was nothing further for me to do, I went gleaning with my mother. In those days it was the custom for the poor to glean the wheatfields after they had been cleared. This was a help to the poor, for it often provided them with a little bread during the winter months, when they would not have had half enough to eat had it not been that they were allowed to glean. The men used to thresh the corn with a flail, dress it and clean it, and send it to the mill to be ground into meal. The rules for gleaning were very amusing. No one was allowed in the field while there was a sheaf of corn there, and at a given hour the farmer would open the gate and remove the sheaf, and shout "All on." If anyone went into the field before this was done the rest would "shake" the corn she had gleaned.

This was a happy time for the women and children. At the conclusion of the harvest they would have what was called a gleaners' frolic. In the year to which I am referring, after harvest, I went keeping cows until the autumn, working for a farmer named Thomas Whighten. At the next wheat-sowing I was again put to scaring crows, and when this was finished I was set to work cleaning turnips, and what cold hands I had when the snow was on the ground! And what suffering from backache! Those who know anything about this class of work may judge how hard it was for a child of six and a half years. My mother did all she could to help me. She would get up in the morning and make a little fire over which to boil some water. With this she would soak a little bread and a small piece of butter. This would constitute my breakfast. For dinner I had, day after day for weeks, nothing but two slices of bread, a small piece of cheese, and an apple or an onion.

In the spring I left this employer and went with my father to work in the brickfield for a Mr. John Howlett, the leading farmer, who had about two years before put my father into prison for taking home turnips, but after a time had set him on again. This farmer used to have bricks made in the summer, and my father was set to make them, he having learned this trade when young. In fact, my family for generations were brickmakers as well as agricultural labourers. Being then barely seven years of age, my daily task was made easier by my father, and I had not to go to work until after breakfast. My father, however, had to be up very early, as brickmaking in those days was very hard work. I was just man enough to wheel away eight bricks at a time. The summer being ended, I helped my father to feed bullocks. In the spring of 1858 I again went into the brickfield, and during the following winter was set cleaning turnips by Mr. Howlett. By this time my wages were raised to 2s. per week. Well can I remember the many sore backs I had given me by the old steward, who never missed an opportunity to thrash me if I did not clean enough turnips. I might say I do not think I ever forgave this old tyrant for his cruelty to me. The treatment I received was no exception to the rule, all poor boys in those days were treated badly. One farmer I knew used to hang the poor boys up by the heels and thrash them on the slightest provocation, and the parents dare not say anything. Had my father complained of the treatment to his son he would have been discharged.

In the spring of 1859 I was set to work as a horseman. This was a new experience to me, but afterwards I was to become an efficient workman, having a liking for horses from the very first. My first job as a horseman was to lead the fore-horse in the drill, and many times the first day the horse trod on my feet. My next job was rolling, and I then thought I was a man, having for the first time a pair of reins in my hands. This change of work brought me another 6d. a week increase in my wages. By the next spring (1860) I was so far improved that I was set to plough, and on April 7th of that year something happened which caused me to change my employment. The old steward, to whom I have previously referred, rode up by the side of the horses and struck me on the knuckles because I was not ploughing straight enough. I at once swore at him and told him I would pay him out for that treatment when I became a man. He forthwith got down from his horse, took me on his knee, and thrashed me until I was black. I, however, got a little of my own back. I kicked him in the face until he was black, and then ran home and told my mother what had happened. She at once went after the steward, pulled his whiskers and slapped his face. For this she was summoned, and was fined 5s. and costs or fourteen days' hard labour. The fine was paid by a friend.

I soon found another job with a Mr. Charles Jones and rapidly improved in my work. I was kept using horses, taking a delight in my work, and soon became, although very young, quite an expert in ploughing. The head team-man was a nice fellow, and took a great interest in me, and taught me all he knew about horses. I worked for this man about four years, and then left because he would not pay me more than 2s. 9d. a week! I next went to work for three old bachelors by the names of Needham, William and James Watts, who lived together near to my home. I helped one of them to look after their team of five horses. They also took great interest in me, and here I was taught all kinds of skilled work on the farm, including drilling, stacking and thatching. I worked for them about three years, and by the time I left my wages had risen to about 6s. per week, mother taking 4s. for my board and allowing me 2s. with which to buy clothes and for pocket-money.

I might say by this time the condition of the family had very much improved. My elder brothers had grown up and left home. My mother by her hand-loom weaving had managed to clear off the debts which had been contracted while the children were small. It showed the honesty of these poor people.

I left my work just before harvest because of my employers not being willing to give me enough for my harvest. This was in 1866. I then decided I would leave home. This was the first time my mother chided me for leaving my work, and I have thought since she was right.

I obtained work during the harvest serving the thatcher at Summerfield, near Docking, Norfolk, which was about thirty miles from my home. After harvest I stayed on the farm and looked after the seventh team of horses. A Mr. Freeman had the farm, which was a much larger one than I had ever worked on before. It consisted of 1,000 acres, and one field was 212 acres in extent. The men on the farm did not like me staying. There was a good bit of clannishness about them, and they did not like people coming from other parts of the county to work in their district.

Hence the men in the other stables did not treat me kindly and often endeavoured to steal my corn. I had, however, been taught a great deal about horses by my eldest brother, who was a stud-groom and well trained in the medical treatment of horses. I was therefore able to treat my horses in such a way that they looked better than any of the others. My employer and the other men did not know my secret, and the latter, not being able to out-do me in this direction, tried to beat me at work. I mention this merely to show the state of ignorance the men were in. In these days, I am happy to say, there is a much better spirit amongst the labourers.

I decided, however, not to stay there more than the year, and on October 11, 1867, I left and returned to my own home. I obtained a job as a team-man with a farmer of the name of Thomas Blyth, at a farm called Botnay Bay. I lived in and received a wage of 2s. per week, with board and lodging, and had to feed and groom five horses. Here I increased my efficiency as a horseman and workman. My employer, though an old tyrant, did put me to all kinds of work. I was set to drill and at the harvest to stack and thatch. The thatching I followed for several years after I left my regular work as a farm hand. I stayed at this place until 1869, when an unhappy affair happened that caused me to leave my farm work for some few years. This farmer had threatened to thrash me and my fellow worker several times. My colleague's name was Sam Spanton. One day when we were at plough he came and accused us of stopping at the end of the field. With an oath I denied this and called him a liar. He thereupon struck me with his clenched fist and knocked me down. As I got up I struck him on the side of the head with my whip-stalk and knocked him down. I at once got on to him and struck him with my fist. My colleague came to my assistance, and between the two of us, after a rough tussle, we thus far came off victorious, for he never again attempted to hit us. This, however, finished us with this employer. This affair took place in the last week in March 1869, and I obtained work for the summer on a brickfield at Bessingham.

It was, however, a turning-point in my life, greatly to the delight of my mother, for I had begun to adopt rather bad habits whilst in this man's employ. I had taken to snaring hares and catching rabbits and selling them for pocket-money. I had also begun to visit the public-houses, although I never got drunk. This caused my saintly mother some anxious moments.

On leaving this employer I attended a little Primitive Methodist chapel one Sunday evening, when a very earnest lay-preacher, by name Samuel Harrison, was preaching. He took for his text: "How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?" His sermon was a thoroughly orthodox one, and it certainly did appeal to me, and I was led to see I had not been pursuing a right course. I became what we used to call in those days "saved," but which I term now the spiritual forces coming into contact with the forces of evil, which up till then were completely controlling my life, and which, had I not been brought under the influence of the Eternal Spirit at this particular time, might have altered the whole course of my life.

I at once embraced the simple faith of Christ as the Great Saviour of man, although in a rather different light then to what I do now. But I continued to maintain my faith in Christ as the Eternal Son of God, and as the Great Leader and Saviour of men, and in the principles of righteousness advocated by Him as the true solution for all the evils affecting humanity.

I still love my Church, and I remain a loyal supporter of that great section of the Methodist Church, namely the Primitive Methodists, which has during the last hundred years done so much for the uplifting of the toiling masses of England, and brought light and comfort into thousands of homes. The faith I then embraced created within me new ideals on life and, although an illiterate and uneducated youth, I became very thoughtful and most strict in my habits, thinking I had to give up everything I had hitherto indulged in.

* * *

In the spring of 1870 I went to work in a brickfield at Alby. Here I met a woman who was to play a wonderful part in my future life. Her name was Charlotte Corke, daughter of the late Mr. James Corke of that parish. She herself had felt the pinch of poverty, being the youngest child of nine.

We became engaged, and on June 21, 1872, we married at Alby Church. A record of this event is still to be found in the church register.

At this time I was given a note of liberty by the Aylsham Primitive Methodist Circuit Quarterly Meeting, permitting me to speak in their chapels, and I was appointed to accompany two accredited lay-preachers by the names of Edward Gladden and James Applegate. This continued for two quarters, after which my name appeared on the plan of preachers. In October of the same year I returned to my former employment, agriculture, obtaining a situation with Mr. James Rice of Oulton. I hired a cottage at Oulton, which is near Aylsham (Norfolk), where we lived for the first seven years of our married life. I worked for Mr. Rice for two years, when a dispute arose over the right to stop work for breakfast, and I left and again returned to brickmaking, and went to work at Blickling, about a mile and a half from my home, which distance I walked morning and night. Mr. James Applegate was the contractor and foreman on this yard, on which was manufactured all kinds of ware. My foreman was quite a skilled tradesman and he took great interest in me and set me to manufacture all kinds of ware, and he also taught me the art of burning the ware. I stayed with him about five years, when, by his assistance, I obtained a situation as brick-burner with a Mr. John Cook of Thwaite Hall and, on October 11, 1879, I moved to Alby Hill into one of my employer's cottages.

The September Quarterly Meeting of 1872 of the Aylsham Primitive Methodist Circuit decided that my name should appear on the preachers' plan as an "Exhorter," and I was planned to take my first service on the third Sunday in October of that year.

Up to this time I could not read, I merely knew my letters, but I set myself to work. My dear wife came to my rescue and undertook to teach me to read. For the purposes of this first service she helped me to commit three hymns to memory and also the first chapter of the Gospel according to St. John. It was a big task, but she accomplished it, and this is how it was done. When I returned home from work after tea she would get the hymn-book, read the lines out, and I would repeat them after her. This was repeated until I had committed the whole hymn to memory.

MR. AND MRS. EDWARDS'S FIRST HOME AFTER MARRIAGE, OULTON-NEXT-AYLSHAM, NORFOLK.

My first three were good old Primitive Methodist hymns. The opening verse of the first hymn I learned was:-

Hark, the Gospel news is sounding,

Christ has suffered on the tree.

Streams of mercy are abounding,

Grace for all is rich and free.

Now, poor sinner,

Look to Him who died for thee.

The second hymn was:-

There is a fountain filled with blood,

Drawn from Immanuel's veins;

And sinners plunged beneath that flood,

Lose all their guilty stains.

The third hymn was:-

Stop, poor sinner, stop and think

Before you further go.

Will you sport upon the brink

Of everlasting woe?

On the verge of ruin stop,

Now the friendly warning take,

Stay your footsteps or you'll drop

Into the burning lake.

The last hymn does not appear in the present-day Primitive Methodist hymnal. Needless to say, I have long ceased to use the hymn. It was too horrible for my humanitarian spirit. I might say that at my first service I was not quite sure that I held the book the right way up, as I was not quite certain of the figures. I had, however, committed the hymns to memory correctly, and also the lesson, and I made no mistakes. In those days we used to give out the hymns two lines at a time, as very few people could read, and they could possibly remember the two lines. There was no musical instrument in many of the small village chapels at that time. My wife went with me to my first appointment and listened. My first text was taken from the first chapter of John: "Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world." I would not like to say the sermon was a very intellectual one. It was, however, well thought out as far as my limited knowledge would allow me to do so, and in preparing it I had the assistance of my wife. We had spent nights in thinking it out, and it certainly was orthodox in the extreme. I made rapid progress with my education under the tutorship of my wife, who would sit up very late at night to teach me. She would sit on one side of the fireplace and I on the other. I would spell out the words and she would tell me their pronunciation.

By the time the next plan came out I could just manage to read my lesson and hymns, but not until I had gone through them many times with my wife and had mistakes rectified.

One interesting little incident occurred about this time. I went to an appointment one Sunday about eight miles from my home. A brother lay-preacher was planned at the chapel in an adjoining village, hence we travelled most of the way together. Coming home it was very dark, and we had to travel some distance by a footpath across some meadows. We lost ourselves! I told my companion to follow me, but it turned out that it was a case of the blind leading the blind, for no sooner had I instructed my companion than we both walked into a ditch up to our knees in water, and had to walk the rest of the way home with wet feet! This was not the day of bicycles nor yet horse-hire. The circuit to which I was attached was very large, and for many years I walked sixteen miles on the Sunday, conducted two services, and reached home at eleven o'clock at night. Whatever may have been our weaknesses in those days, it must be admitted we were enthusiastic and devoted to the cause we advocated. No sacrifice was too great.

Having once learned to read, I became eager for knowledge. Until then I possessed only a Bible and hymn-book and two spelling-books. But I had no money to buy other books. My wife and I talked it over, and I decided I would give up smoking and purchase books with the money saved. I was then smoking 2 oz. of tobacco a week, which in those days cost 6d. This did not seem much, but it was ￡1 6s. a year. It was a great sacrifice to me to give up smoking, for I did enjoy my pipe. I had, however, a thirst for knowledge, and no sacrifice was too great to satisfy my longing. My first purchase was Johnson's Dictionary, two volumes of The Lay-preacher, which contained outlines of sermons, Harvey's Meditations among the Tombs and Contemplation of the Starry Heavens, a Bible dictionary, and a History of Rome. These I bought second-hand from Mr. James Applegate, who was a great reader. The Lay-preacher I used extensively for some years, and it certainly did help me for the first few years. I ultimately discarded the two volumes and relied upon my own resources, and I should advise every young man with the advantage of education, who is thinking of engaging in such great and good work, never to use such books, for it is far better for him to think out subjects for himself and store his mind well with knowledge.

The different Primitive Methodist services of my early days would be out of date now, and the quaint sayings of those days, though effective then, would cause some amount of amusement to our young educated folk of to-day. One form of service was called a "love-feast," at which small pieces of bread were taken round with water. The meeting was thrown open for anyone to speak, and then the simple, faithful, uneducated, saintly people, in relating what to them was Christian experience, would express themselves in peculiar phrases. I call to mind the statement made by a brother at one meeting who said he felt "like a fool in a fair." At the same meeting another said he thanked God that although that was the first time he had attempted to speak, he was getting used to it. Others would relate what dreadful characters they had been and what religion had done for them.

Although my preaching efforts did not give me entire satisfaction, still I can look back with pleasure at some of the results of my labours. Although uneducated and not well informed and although I used such phrases and put the Gospel in such a way that I should not think for one moment of doing to-day, still it had its effect. I can recall instances of ten and twelve of my hearers at my Sunday services making a stand for righteousness. Many of them in after years became stalwarts for truth.

They also soon began to be dissatisfied with the conditions under which they worked and lived. Seeing no hope of any improvement they migrated to the North of England, and found work in the coalfields, and never returned to their native county. When in Newcastle last December I met several of my old converts and friends.

With my study of theology, I soon began to realize that the social conditions of the people were not as God intended they should be. The gross injustices meted out to my parents and the terrible sufferings I had undergone in my boyhood burnt themselves into my soul like a hot iron.

Many a time did I vow I would do something to better the conditions of my class.

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