MARY BARTON :  A TALE OF MANCHESTER LIFE .  by  ELIZABETH GASKELL  " 'How knowest thou , ' may the distressed Novel-wright exclaim , ' that I , here where I sit , am the Foolishest of existing mortals ; that this my Long-ear of a fictitious Biography shall not find one and the other , into whose still longer ears it may be the means , under Providence , of instilling somewhat ? ' We answer , ' None knows , none can certainly know : therefore , write on , worthy Brother , even as thou canst , even as it is given thee . ' " CARLYLE .  PREFACE .  Three years ago I became anxious ( from circumstances that need not be more fully alluded to ) to employ myself in writing a work of fiction .  Living in Manchester , but with a deep relish and fond admiration for the country , my first thought was to find a frame-work for my story in some rural scene ; and I had already made a little progress in a tale , the period of which was more than a century ago , and the place on the borders of Yorkshire , when I bethought me how deep might be the romance in the lives of some of those who elbowed me daily in the busy streets of the town in which I resided .  I had always felt a deep sympathy with the care-worn men , who looked as if doomed to struggle through their lives in strange alternations between work and want ; tossed to and fro by circumstances , apparently in even a greater degree than other men .  A little manifestation of this sympathy , and a little attention to the expression of feelings on the part of some of the work-people with whom I was acquainted , had laid open to me the hearts of one or two of the more thoughtful among them ; I saw that they were sore and irritable against the rich , the even tenor of whose seemingly happy lives appeared to increase the anguish caused by the lottery-like nature of their own .  Whether the bitter complaints made by them , of the neglect which they experienced from the prosperous — especially from the masters whose fortunes they had helped to build up — were well-founded or no , it is not for me to judge .  It is enough to say , that this belief of the injustice and unkindness which they endure from their fellow-creatures , taints what might be resignation to God 'swill , and turns it to revenge in too many of the poor uneducated factory-workers of Manchester .  The more I reflected on this unhappy state of things between those so bound to each other by common interests , as the employers and the employed must ever be , the more anxious I became to give some utterance to the agony which , from time to time , convulses this dumb people ; the agony of suffering without the sympathy of the happy , or of erroneously believing that such is the case .  If it be an error , that the woes , which come with ever-returning tide-like flood to overwhelm the workmen in our manufacturing towns , pass unregarded by all but the sufferers , it is at any rate an error so bitter in its consequences to all parties , that whatever public effort can do in the way of legislation , or private effort in the way of merciful deeds , or helpless love in the way of " widow 'smites , " should be done , and that speedily , to disabuse the work-people of so miserable a misapprehension .  At present they seem to me to be left in a state , wherein lamentations and tears are thrown aside as useless , but in which the lips are compressed for curses , and the hands clenched and ready to smite .  I know nothing of Political Economy , or the theories of trade .  I have tried to write truthfully ; and if my accounts agree or clash with any system , the agreement or disagreement is unintentional .  To myself the idea which I have formed of the state of feeling among too many of the factory-people in Manchester , and which I endeavoured to represent in this tale ( completed above a year ago ) , has received some confirmation from the events which have so recently occurred among a similar class on the Continent .  OCTOBER , 1848.  CHAPTER I .  A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE .  Oh ! ' tis hard , ' tis hard to be working The whole of the live-long day , When all the neighbours about one Are off to their jaunts and play . There 'sRichard he carries his baby , And Mary takes little Jane , And lovingly they 'llbe wandering Through field and briery lane . Manchester Song .  There are some fields near Manchester , well known to the inhabitants as " Green Heys Fields , " through which runs a public footpath to a little village about two miles distant .  In spite of these fields being flat and low , nay , in spite of the want of wood ( the great and usual recommendation of level tracts of land ) , there is a charm about them which strikes even the inhabitant of a mountainous district , who sees and feels the effect of contrast in these common-place but thoroughly rural fields , with the busy , bustling manufacturing town he left but half-an-hour ago .  Here and there an old black and white farm-house , with its rambling outbuildings , speaks of other times and other occupations than those which now absorb the population of the neighbourhood .  Here in their seasons may be seen the country business of hay-making , ploughing , etc. , which are such pleasant mysteries for townspeople to watch ; and here the artisan , deafened with noise of tongues and engines , may come to listen awhile to the delicious sounds of rural life : the lowing of cattle , the milk-maids 'call , the clatter and cackle of poultry in the old farm-yards .  You cannot wonder , then , that these fields are popular places of resort at every holiday time ; and you would not wonder , if you could see , or I properly describe , the charm of one particular stile , that it should be , on such occasions , a crowded halting-place .  Close by it is a deep , clear pond , reflecting in its dark green depths the shadowy trees that bend over it to exclude the sun .  The only place where its banks are shelving is on the side next to a rambling farm-yard , belonging to one of those old-world , gabled , black and white houses I named above , overlooking the field through which the public footpath leads .  The porch of this farm-house is covered by a rose-tree ; and the little garden surrounding it is crowded with a medley of old-fashioned herbs and flowers , planted long ago , when the garden was the only druggist 'sshop within reach , and allowed to grow in scrambling and wild luxuriance — roses , lavender , sage , balm ( for tea ) , rosemary , pinks and wallflowers , onions and jessamine , in most republican and indiscriminate order .  This farm-house and garden are within a hundred yards of the stile of which I spoke , leading from the large pasture field into a smaller one , divided by a hedge of hawthorn and black-thorn ; and near this stile , on the further side , there runs a tale that primroses may often be found , and occasionally the blue sweet violet on the grassy hedge bank .  I do not know whether it was on a holiday granted by the masters , or a holiday seized in right of Nature and her beautiful spring time by the workmen , but one afternoon ( now ten or a dozen years ago ) these fields were much thronged .  It was an early May evening — the April of the poets ; for heavy showers had fallen all the morning , and the round , soft , white clouds which were blown by a west wind over the dark blue sky , were sometimes varied by one blacker and more threatening .  The softness of the day tempted forth the young green leaves , which almost visibly fluttered into life ; and the willows , which that morning had had only a brown reflection in the water below , were now of that tender gray-green which blends so delicately with the spring harmony of colours .  Groups of merry and somewhat loud-talking girls , whose ages might range from twelve to twenty , came by with a buoyant step .  They were most of them factory girls , and wore the usual out-of-doors dress of that particular class of maidens ; namely , a shawl , which at mid-day or in fine weather was allowed to be merely a shawl , but towards evening , or if the day were chilly , became a sort of Spanish mantilla or Scotch plaid , and was brought over the head and hung loosely down , or was pinned under the chin in no unpicturesque fashion .  Their faces were not remarkable for beauty ; indeed , they were below the average , with one or two exceptions ; they had dark hair , neatly and classically arranged , dark eyes , but sallow complexions and irregular features .  The only thing to strike a passer-by was an acuteness and intelligence of countenance , which has often been noticed in a manufacturing population .  There were also numbers of boys , or rather young men , rambling among these fields , ready to bandy jokes with any one , and particularly ready to enter into conversation with the girls , who , however , held themselves aloof , not in a shy , but rather in an independent way , assuming an indifferent manner to the noisy wit or obstreperous compliments of the lads .  Here and there came a sober quiet couple , either whispering lovers , or husband and wife , as the case might be ; and if the latter , they were seldom unencumbered by an infant , carried for the most part by the father , while occasionally even three or four little toddlers had been carried or dragged thus far , in order that the whole family might enjoy the delicious May afternoon together .  Sometime in the course of that afternoon , two working men met with friendly greeting at the stile so often named .  One was a thorough specimen of a Manchester man ; born of factory workers , and himself bred up in youth , and living in manhood , among the mills .  He was below the middle size and slightly made ; there was almost a stunted look about him ; and his wan , colourless face gave you the idea , that in his childhood he had suffered from the scanty living consequent upon bad times and improvident habits .  His features were strongly marked , though not irregular , and their expression was extreme earnestness ; resolute either for good or evil ; a sort of latent , stern enthusiasm .  At the time of which I write , the good predominated over the bad in the countenance , and he was one from whom a stranger would have asked a favour with tolerable faith that it would be granted .  He was accompanied by his wife , who might , without exaggeration , have been called a lovely woman , although now her face was swollen with crying , and often hidden behind her apron .  She had the fresh beauty of the agricultural districts ; and somewhat of the deficiency of sense in her countenance , which is likewise characteristic of the rural inhabitants in comparison with the natives of the manufacturing towns .  She was far advanced in pregnancy , which perhaps occasioned the overpowering and hysterical nature of her grief .  The friend whom they met was more handsome and less sensible-looking than the man I have just described ; he seemed hearty and hopeful , and although his age was greater , yet there was far more of youth 'sbuoyancy in his appearance .  He was tenderly carrying a baby in arms , while his wife , a delicate , fragile-looking woman , limping in her gait , bore another of the same age ; little , feeble twins , inheriting the frail appearance of their mother .  The last-mentioned man was the first to speak , while a sudden look of sympathy dimmed his gladsome face .  " Well , John , how goes it with you ?  " and , in a lower voice , he added , " Any news of Esther , yet ?  " Meanwhile the wives greeted each other like old friends , the soft and plaintive voice of the mother of the twins seeming to call forth only fresh sobs from Mrs. Barton .  " Come , women , " said John Barton , " you 'veboth walked far enough .  My Mary expects to have her bed in three weeks ; and as for you , Mrs. Wilson , you know you 'rebut a cranky sort of a body at the best of times .  " This was said so kindly , that no offence could be taken .  " Sit you down here ; the grass is well nigh dry by this time ; and you 'reneither of you nesh [ 1 ] folk about taking cold .  Stay , " he added , with some tenderness , " here 'smy pocket-handkerchief to spread under you , to save the gowns women always think so much of ; and now , Mrs. Wilson , give me the baby , I may as well carry him , while you talk and comfort my wife ; poor thing , she takes on sadly about Esther .  "  These arrangements were soon completed : the two women sat down on the blue cotton handkerchiefs of their husbands , and the latter , each carrying a baby , set off for a further walk ; but as soon as Barton had turned his back upon his wife , his countenance fell back into an expression of gloom .  " Then you 'veheard nothing of Esther , poor lass ?  " asked Wilson .  " No , nor sha n't , as I take it .  My mind is , she 'sgone off with somebody .  My wife frets , and thinks she 'sdrowned herself , but I tell her , folks do n't care to put on their best clothes to drown themselves ; and Mrs. Bradshaw ( where she lodged , you know ) says the last time she set eyes on her was last Tuesday , when she came down stairs , dressed in her Sunday gown , and with a new ribbon in her bonnet , and gloves on her hands , like the lady she was so fond of thinking herself .  "  " She was as pretty a creature as ever the sun shone on .  "  " Ay , she was a farrantly [ 2 ] lass ; more 'sthe pity now , " added Barton , with a sigh .  " You see them Buckinghamshire people as comes to work in Manchester , has quite a different look with them to us Manchester folk .  You 'llnot see among the Manchester wenches such fresh rosy cheeks , or such black lashes to gray eyes ( making them look like black ) , as my wife and Esther had .  I never seed two such pretty women for sisters ; never .  Not but what beauty is a sad snare .  Here was Esther so puffed up , that there was no holding her in .  Her spirit was always up , if I spoke ever so little in the way of advice to her ; my wife spoiled her , it is true , for you see she was so much older than Esther she was more like a mother to her , doing every thing for her .  "  " I wonder she ever left you , " observed his friend .  " That 'sthe worst of factory work , for girls .  They can earn so much when work is plenty , that they can maintain themselves any how .  My Mary shall never work in a factory , that I 'mdetermined on .  You see Esther spent her money in dress , thinking to set off her pretty face ; and got to come home so late at night , that at last I told her my mind : my missis thinks I spoke crossly , but I meant right , for I loved Esther , if it was only for Mary 'ssake .  Says I , ' Esther , I see what you 'llend at with your artificials , and your fly-away veils , and stopping out when honest women are in their beds ; you 'llbe a street-walker , Esther , and then , do n't you go to think I 'llhave you darken my door , though my wife is your sister .  ' So says she , ' Do n't trouble yourself , John .  I 'llpack up and be off now , for I 'llnever stay to hear myself called as you call me .  ' She flushed up like a turkey-cock , and I thought fire would come out of her eyes ; but when she saw Mary cry ( for Mary ca n't abide words in a house ) , she went and kissed her , and said she was not so bad as I thought her .  So we talked more friendly , for , as I said , I liked the lass well enough , and her pretty looks , and her cheery ways .  But she said ( and at the time I thought there was sense in what she said ) we should be much better friends if she went into lodgings , and only came to see us now and then .  "  " Then you still were friendly .  Folks said you 'dcast her off , and said you 'dnever speak to her again .  "  " Folks always make one a deal worse than one is , " said John Barton , testily .  " She came many a time to our house after she left off living with us .  Last Sunday se'nnight — no !  it was this very last Sunday , she came to drink a cup of tea with Mary ; and that was the last time we set eyes on her .  "  " Was she any ways different in her manner ?  " asked Wilson .  " Well , I do n't know .  I have thought several times since , that she was a bit quieter , and more womanly-like ; more gentle , and more blushing , and not so riotous and noisy .  She comes in , toward four o'clock , when afternoon church was loosing , and she goes and hangs her bonnet up on the old nail we used to call hers , while she lived with us .  I remember thinking what a pretty lass she was , as she sat on a low stool by Mary , who was rocking herself , and in rather a poor way .  She laughed and cried by turns , but all so softly and gently , like a child , that I could n't find in my heart to scold her , especially as Mary was fretting already .  One thing I do remember I did say , and pretty sharply too .  She took our little Mary by the waist , and — "  " Thou must leave off calling her ' little 'Mary , she 'sgrowing up into as fine a lass as one can see on a summer 'sday ; more of her mother 'sstock than thine , " interrupted Wilson .  " Well , well , I call her 'little , ' because her mother 'sname is Mary .  But , as I was saying , she takes Mary in a coaxing sort of way , and , ' Mary , ' says she , ' what should you think if I sent for you some day and made a lady of you ?  ' So I could not stand such talk as that to my girl , and I said , ' Thou 'dbest not put that nonsense i ' the girl 'shead I can tell thee ; I 'drather see her earning her bread by the sweat of her brow , as the Bible tells her she should do , ay , though she never got butter to her bread , than be like a do-nothing lady , worrying shopmen all morning , and screeching at her pianny all afternoon , and going to bed without having done a good turn to any one of God 'screatures but herself .  ' "  " Thou never could abide the gentlefolk , " said Wilson , half amused at his friend 'svehemence .  " And what good have they ever done me that I should like them ?  " asked Barton , the latent fire lighting up his eye : and bursting forth , he continued , " If I am sick , do they come and nurse me ?  If my child lies dying ( as poor Tom lay , with his white wan lips quivering , for want of better food than I could give him ) , does the rich man bring the wine or broth that might save his life ?  If I am out of work for weeks in the bad times , and winter comes , with black frost , and keen east wind , and there is no coal for the grate , and no clothes for the bed , and the thin bones are seen through the ragged clothes , does the rich man share his plenty with me , as he ought to do , if his religion was n't a humbug ?  When I lie on my death-bed , and Mary ( bless her ) stands fretting , as I know she will fret , " and here his voice faltered a little , " will a rich lady come and take her to her own home if need be , till she can look round , and see what best to do ?  No , I tell you , it 'sthe poor , and the poor only , as does such things for the poor .  Do n't think to come over me with th 'old tale , that the rich know nothing of the trials of the poor .  I say , if they do n't know , they ought to know .  We 'retheir slaves as long as we can work ; we pile up their fortunes with the sweat of our brows ; and yet we are to live as separate as if we were in two worlds ; ay , as separate as Dives and Lazarus , with a great gulf betwixt us : but I know who was best off then , " and he wound up his speech with a low chuckle that had no mirth in it .  " Well , neighbour , " said Wilson , " all that may be very true , but what I want to know now is about Esther — when did you last hear of her ?  "  " Why , she took leave of us that Sunday night in a very loving way , kissing both wife Mary , and daughter Mary ( if I must not call her little ) , and shaking hands with me ; but all in a cheerful sort of manner , so we thought nothing about her kisses and shakes .  But on Wednesday night comes Mrs. Bradshaw 'sson with Esther 'sbox , and presently Mrs. Bradshaw follows with the key ; and when we began to talk , we found Esther told her she was coming back to live with us , and would pay her week 'smoney for not giving notice ; and on Tuesday night she carried off a little bundle ( her best clothes were on her back , as I said before ) , and told Mrs. Bradshaw not to hurry herself about the big box , but bring it when she had time .  So of course she thought she should find Esther with us ; and when she told her story , my missis set up such a screech , and fell down in a dead swoon .  Mary ran up with water for her mother , and I thought so much about my wife , I did not seem to care at all for Esther .  But the next day I asked all the neighbours ( both our own and Bradshaw 's) , and they 'dnone of ' em heard or seen nothing of her .  I even went to a policeman , a good enough sort of man , but a fellow I 'dnever spoke to before because of his livery , and I asks him if his 'cuteness could find any thing out for us .  So I believe he asks other policemen ; and one on ' em had seen a wench , like our Esther , walking very quickly , with a bundle under her arm , on Tuesday night , toward eight o'clock , and get into a hackney coach , near Hulme Church , and we do n't know th 'number , and ca n't trace it no further .  I 'msorry enough for the girl , for bad 'scome over her , one way or another , but I 'msorrier for my wife .  She loved her next to me and Mary , and she 'snever been the same body since poor Tom 'sdeath .  However , let 'sgo back to them ; your old woman may have done her good .  "  As they walked homewards with a brisker pace , Wilson expressed a wish that they still were the near neighbours they once had been .  " Still our Alice lives in the cellar under No. 14 , in Barber Street , and if you 'donly speak the word she 'dbe with you in five minutes , to keep your wife company when she 'slonesome .  Though I 'mAlice 'sbrother , and perhaps ought not to say it , I will say there 'snone more ready to help with heart or hand than she is .  Though she may have done a hard day 'swash , there 'snot a child ill within the street but Alice goes to offer to sit up , and does sit up too , though may be she 'sto be at her work by six next morning .  "  " She 'sa poor woman , and can feel for the poor , Wilson , " was Barton 'sreply ; and then he added , " Thank you kindly for your offer , and mayhap I may trouble her to be a bit with my wife , for while I 'mat work , and Mary 'sat school , I know she frets above a bit .  See , there 'sMary !  " and the father 'seye brightened , as in the distance , among a group of girls , he spied his only daughter , a bonny lassie of thirteen or so , who came bounding along to meet and to greet her father , in a manner which showed that the stern-looking man had a tender nature within .  The two men had crossed the last stile while Mary loitered behind to gather some buds of the coming hawthorn , when an over-grown lad came past her , and snatched a kiss , exclaiming , " For old acquaintance sake , Mary .  "  " Take that for old acquaintance sake , then , " said the girl , blushing rosy red , more with anger than shame , as she slapped his face .  The tones of her voice called back her father and his friend , and the aggressor proved to be the eldest son of the latter , the senior by eighteen years of his little brothers .  " Here , children , instead o ' kissing and quarrelling , do ye each take a baby , for if Wilson 'sarms be like mine they are heartily tired .  "  Mary sprang forward to take her father 'scharge , with a girl 'sfondness for infants , and with some little foresight of the event soon to happen at home ; while young Wilson seemed to lose his rough , cubbish nature as he crowed and cooed to his little brother .  " Twins is a great trial to a poor man , bless ' em , " said the half-proud , half-weary father , as he bestowed a smacking kiss on the babe ere he parted with it .  CHAPTER II .  A MANCHESTER TEA-PARTY .  Polly , put the kettle on , And let 'shave tea ! Polly , put the kettle on , And we 'llall have tea .  " Here we are , wife ; didst thou think thou 'dlost us ?  " quoth hearty-voiced Wilson , as the two women rose and shook themselves in preparation for their homeward walk .  Mrs. Barton was evidently soothed , if not cheered , by the unburdening of her fears and thoughts to her friend ; and her approving look went far to second her husband 'sinvitation that the whole party should adjourn from Green Heys Fields to tea , at the Bartons 'house .  The only faint opposition was raised by Mrs. Wilson , on account of the lateness of the hour at which they would probably return , which she feared on her babies 'account .  " Now , hold your tongue , missis , will you , " said her husband , good-temperedly .  " Do n't you know them brats never goes to sleep till long past ten ?  and have n't you a shawl , under which you can tuck one lad 'shead , as safe as a bird 'sunder its wing ?  And as for t'other one , I 'llput it in my pocket rather than not stay , now we are this far away from Ancoats .  "  " Or I can lend you another shawl , " suggested Mrs. Barton .  " Ay , any thing rather than not stay .  "  The matter being decided , the party proceeded home , through many half-finished streets , all so like one another that you might have easily been bewildered and lost your way .  Not a step , however , did our friends lose ; down this entry , cutting off that corner , until they turned out of one of these innumerable streets into a little paved court , having the backs of houses at the end opposite to the opening , and a gutter running through the middle to carry off household slops , washing suds , etc. The women who lived in the court were busy taking in strings of caps , frocks , and various articles of linen , which hung from side to side , dangling so low , that if our friends had been a few minutes sooner , they would have had to stoop very much , or else the half-wet clothes would have flapped in their faces ; but although the evening seemed yet early when they were in the open fields — among the pent-up houses , night , with its mists , and its darkness , had already begun to fall .  Many greetings were given and exchanged between the Wilsons and these women , for not long ago they had also dwelt in this court .  Two rude lads , standing at a disorderly looking house-door , exclaimed , as Mary Barton ( the daughter ) passed , " Eh , look !  Polly Barton 'sgotten a sweetheart .  "  Of course this referred to young Wilson , who stole a look to see how Mary took the idea .  He saw her assume the air of a young fury , and to his next speech she answered not a word .  Mrs. Barton produced the key of the door from her pocket ; and on entering the house-place it seemed as if they were in total darkness , except one bright spot , which might be a cat 'seye , or might be , what it was , a red-hot fire , smouldering under a large piece of coal , which John Barton immediately applied himself to break up , and the effect instantly produced was warm and glowing light in every corner of the room .  To add to this ( although the coarse yellow glare seemed lost in the ruddy glow from the fire ) , Mrs. Barton lighted a dip by sticking it in the fire , and having placed it satisfactorily in a tin candlestick , began to look further about her , on hospitable thoughts intent .  The room was tolerably large , and possessed many conveniences .  On the right of the door , as you entered , was a longish window , with a broad ledge .  On each side of this , hung blue-and-white check curtains , which were now drawn , to shut in the friends met to enjoy themselves .  Two geraniums , unpruned and leafy , which stood on the sill , formed a further defence from out-door pryers .  In the corner between the window and the fire-side was a cupboard , apparently full of plates and dishes , cups and saucers , and some more nondescript articles , for which one would have fancied their possessors could find no use — such as triangular pieces of glass to save carving knives and forks from dirtying table-cloths .  However , it was evident Mrs. Barton was proud of her crockery and glass , for she left her cupboard door open , with a glance round of satisfaction and pleasure .  On the opposite side to the door and window was the staircase , and two doors ; one of which ( the nearest to the fire ) led into a sort of little back kitchen , where dirty work , such as washing up dishes , might be done , and whose shelves served as larder , and pantry , and storeroom , and all .  The other door , which was considerably lower , opened into the coal-hole — the slanting closet under the stairs ; from which , to the fire-place , there was a gay-coloured piece of oil-cloth laid .  The place seemed almost crammed with furniture ( sure sign of good times among the mills ) .  Beneath the window was a dresser with three deep drawers .  Opposite the fire-place was a table , which I should call a Pembroke , only that it was made of deal , and I cannot tell how far such a name may be applied to such humble material .  On it , resting against the wall , was a bright green japanned tea-tray , having a couple of scarlet lovers embracing in the middle .  The fire-light danced merrily on this , and really ( setting all taste but that of a child 'saside ) it gave a richness of colouring to that side of the room .  It was in some measure propped up by a crimson tea-caddy , also of japan ware .  A round table on one branching leg really for use , stood in the corresponding corner to the cupboard ; and , if you can picture all this with a washy , but clean stencilled pattern on the walls , you can form some idea of John Barton 'shome .  The tray was soon hoisted down , and before the merry chatter of cups and saucers began , the women disburdened themselves of their out-of-door things , and sent Mary up stairs with them .  Then came a long whispering , and chinking of money , to which Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were too polite to attend ; knowing , as they did full well , that it all related to the preparations for hospitality ; hospitality that , in their turn , they should have such pleasure in offering .  So they tried to be busily occupied with the children , and not to hear Mrs. Barton 'sdirections to Mary .  " Run , Mary dear , just round the corner , and get some fresh eggs at Tipping 's( you may get one a-piece , that will be five-pence ) , and see if he has any nice ham cut , that he would let us have a pound of .  "  " Say two pounds , missis , and do n't be stingy , " chimed in the husband .  " Well , a pound and a half , Mary .  And get it Cumberland ham , for Wilson comes from there-away , and it will have a sort of relish of home with it he 'lllike , — and Mary " ( seeing the lassie fain to be off ) , " you must get a pennyworth of milk and a loaf of bread — mind you get it fresh and new — and , and — that 'sall , Mary .  "  " No , it 'snot all , " said her husband .  " Thou must get sixpennyworth of rum , to warm the tea ; thou 'llget it at the ' Grapes .  ' And thou just go to Alice Wilson ; he says she lives just right round the corner , under 14 , Barber Street " ( this was addressed to his wife ) , " and tell her to come and take her tea with us ; she 'lllike to see her brother , I 'llbe bound , let alone Jane and the twins .  "  " If she comes she must bring a tea-cup and saucer , for we have but half-a-dozen , and here 'ssix of us , " said Mrs. Barton .  " Pooh !  pooh !  Jem and Mary can drink out of one , surely .  "  But Mary secretly determined to take care that Alice brought her tea-cup and saucer , if the alternative was to be her sharing any thing with Jem .  Alice Wilson had but just come in .  She had been out all day in the fields , gathering wild herbs for drinks and medicine , for in addition to her invaluable qualities as a sick nurse and her worldly occupation as a washerwoman , she added a considerable knowledge of hedge and field simples ; and on fine days , when no more profitable occupation offered itself , she used to ramble off into the lanes and meadows as far as her legs could carry her .  This evening she had returned loaded with nettles , and her first object was to light a candle and see to hang them up in bunches in every available place in her cellar room .  It was the perfection of cleanliness : in one corner stood the modest-looking bed , with a check curtain at the head , the whitewashed wall filling up the place where the corresponding one should have been .  The floor was bricked , and scrupulously clean , although so damp that it seemed as if the last washing would never dry up .  As the cellar window looked into an area in the street , down which boys might throw stones , it was protected by an outside shelter , and was oddly festooned with all manner of hedge-row , ditch , and field plants , which we are accustomed to call valueless , but which have a powerful effect either for good or for evil , and are consequently much used among the poor .  The room was strewed , hung , and darkened with these bunches , which emitted no very fragrant odour in their process of drying .  In one corner was a sort of broad hanging shelf , made of old planks , where some old hoards of Alice 'swere kept .  Her little bit of crockery ware was ranged on the mantelpiece , where also stood her candlestick and box of matches .  A small cupboard contained at the bottom coals , and at the top her bread and basin of oatmeal , her frying pan , tea-pot , and a small tin saucepan , which served as a kettle , as well as for cooking the delicate little messes of broth which Alice sometimes was able to manufacture for a sick neighbour .  After her walk she felt chilly and weary , and was busy trying to light her fire with the damp coals , and half green sticks , when Mary knocked .  " Come in , " said Alice , remembering , however , that she had barred the door for the night , and hastening to make it possible for any one to come in .  " Is that you , Mary Barton ?  " exclaimed she , as the light from her candle streamed on the girl 'sface .  " How you are grown since I used to see you at my brother 's!  Come in , lass , come in .  "  " Please , " said Mary , almost breathless , " mother says you 'reto come to tea , and bring your cup and saucer , for George and Jane Wilson is with us , and the twins , and Jem .  And you 'reto make haste , please .  "  " I 'msure it 'svery neighbourly and kind in your mother , and I 'llcome , with many thanks .  Stay , Mary , has your mother got any nettles for spring drink ?  If she has n't I 'lltake her some .  "  " No , I do n't think she has .  "  Mary ran off like a hare to fulfil what , to a girl of thirteen , fond of power , was the more interesting part of her errand — the money-spending part .  And well and ably did she perform her business , returning home with a little bottle of rum , and the eggs in one hand , while her other was filled with some excellent red-and-white smoke-flavoured Cumberland ham , wrapped up in paper .  She was at home , and frying ham , before Alice had chosen her nettles , put out her candle , locked her door , and walked in a very foot-sore manner as far as John Barton 's.  What an aspect of comfort did his houseplace present , after her humble cellar .  She did not think of comparing ; but for all that she felt the delicious glow of the fire , the bright light that revelled in every corner of the room , the savoury smells , the comfortable sounds of a boiling kettle , and the hissing , frizzling ham .  With a little old-fashioned curtsey she shut the door , and replied with a loving heart to the boisterous and surprised greeting of her brother .  And now all preparations being made , the party sat down ; Mrs. Wilson in the post of honour , the rocking chair on the right hand side of the fire , nursing her baby , while its father , in an opposite arm-chair , tried vainly to quieten the other with bread soaked in milk .  Mrs. Barton knew manners too well to do any thing but sit at the tea-table and make tea , though in her heart she longed to be able to superintend the frying of the ham , and cast many an anxious look at Mary as she broke the eggs and turned the ham , with a very comfortable portion of confidence in her own culinary powers .  Jem stood awkwardly leaning against the dresser , replying rather gruffly to his aunt 'sspeeches , which gave him , he thought , the air of being a little boy ; whereas he considered himself as a young man , and not so very young neither , as in two months he would be eighteen .  Barton vibrated between the fire and the tea-table , his only drawback being a fancy that every now and then his wife 'sface flushed and contracted as if in pain .  At length the business actually began .  Knives and forks , cups and saucers made a noise , but human voices were still , for human beings were hungry , and had no time to speak .  Alice first broke silence ; holding her tea-cup with the manner of one proposing a toast , she said , " Here 'sto absent friends .  Friends may meet , but mountains never .  "  It was an unlucky toast or sentiment , as she instantly felt .  Every one thought of Esther , the absent Esther ; and Mrs. Barton put down her food , and could not hide the fast dropping tears .  Alice could have bitten her tongue out .  It was a wet blanket to the evening ; for though all had been said and suggested in the fields that could be said or suggested , every one had a wish to say something in the way of comfort to poor Mrs. Barton , and a dislike to talk about any thing else while her tears fell fast and scalding .  So George Wilson , his wife and children , set off early home , not before ( in spite of mal-à-propos speeches ) they had expressed a wish that such meetings might often take place , and not before John Barton had given his hearty consent ; and declared that as soon as ever his wife was well again they would have just such another evening .  " I will take care not to come and spoil it , " thought poor Alice ; and going up to Mrs. Barton she took her hand almost humbly , and said , " You do n't know how sorry I am I said it .  "  To her surprise , a surprise that brought tears of joy into her eyes , Mary Barton put her arms round her neck , and kissed the self-reproaching Alice .  " You did n't mean any harm , and it was me as was so foolish ; only this work about Esther , and not knowing where she is , lies so heavy on my heart .  Good night , and never think no more about it .  God bless you , Alice .  "  Many and many a time , as Alice reviewed that evening in her after life , did she bless Mary Barton for these kind and thoughtful words .  But just then all she could say was , " Good night , Mary , and may God bless you .  "  CHAPTER III .  JOHN BARTON 'SGREAT TROUBLE .  But when the morn came dim and sad , And chill with early showers , Her quiet eyelids closed — she had Another morn than ours ! Hood .  In the middle of that same night a neighbour of the Bartons was roused from her sound , well-earned sleep , by a knocking , which had at first made part of her dream ; but starting up , as soon as she became convinced of its reality , she opened the window , and asked who was there ?  " Me , John Barton , " answered he , in a voice tremulous with agitation .  " My missis is in labour , and , for the love of God , step in while I run for th 'doctor , for she 'sfearful bad .  "  While the woman hastily dressed herself , leaving the window still open , she heard cries of agony , which resounded in the little court in the stillness of the night .  In less than five minutes she was standing by Mrs. Barton 'sbed-side , relieving the terrified Mary , who went about , where she was told , like an automaton ; her eyes tearless , her face calm , though deadly pale , and uttering no sound , except when her teeth chattered for very nervousness .  The cries grew worse .  The doctor was very long in hearing the repeated rings at his night-bell , and still longer in understanding who it was that made this sudden call upon his services ; and then he begged Barton just to wait while he dressed himself , in order that no time might be lost in finding the court and house .  Barton absolutely stamped with impatience , outside the doctor 'sdoor , before he came down ; and walked so fast homewards , that the medical man several times asked him to go slower .  " Is she so very bad ?  " asked he .  " Worse , much worser than ever I saw her before , " replied John .  No !  she was not — she was at peace .  The cries were still for ever .  John had no time for listening .  He opened the latched door , stayed not to light a candle for the mere ceremony of showing his companion up the stairs , so well known to himself ; but , in two minutes was in the room , where lay the dead wife , whom he had loved with all the power of his strong heart .  The doctor stumbled up stairs by the fire-light , and met the awe-struck look of the neighbour , which at once told him the state of things .  The room was still , as he , with habitual tip-toe step , approached the poor frail body , whom nothing now could more disturb .  Her daughter knelt by the bed-side , her face buried in the clothes , which were almost crammed into her mouth , to keep down the choking sobs .  The husband stood like one stupified .  The doctor questioned the neighbour in whispers , and then approaching Barton , said , " You must go down stairs .  This is a great shock , but bear it like a man .  Go down .  "  He went mechanically and sat down on the first chair .  He had no hope .  The look of death was too clear upon her face .  Still , when he heard one or two unusual noises , the thought burst on him that it might only be a trance , a fit , a — he did not well know what , — but not death !  Oh , not death !  And he was starting up to go up stairs again , when the doctor 'sheavy cautious creaking footstep was heard on the stairs .  Then he knew what it really was in the chamber above .  " Nothing could have saved her — there has been some shock to the system — " and so he went on ; but , to unheeding ears , which yet retained his words to ponder on ; words not for immediate use in conveying sense , but to be laid by , in the store-house of memory , for a more convenient season .  The doctor seeing the state of the case , grieved for the man ; and , very sleepy , thought it best to go , and accordingly wished him good-night — but there was no answer , so he let himself out ; and Barton sat on , like a stock or a stone , so rigid , so still .  He heard the sounds above too , and knew what they meant .  He heard the stiff , unseasoned drawer , in which his wife kept her clothes , pulled open .  He saw the neighbour come down , and blunder about in search of soap and water .  He knew well what she wanted , and why she wanted them , but he did not speak , nor offer to help .  At last she went , with some kindly-meant words ( a text of comfort , which fell upon a deafened ear ) , and something about " Mary , " but which Mary , in his bewildered state , he could not tell .  He tried to realise it , to think it possible .  And then his mind wandered off to other days , to far different times .  He thought of their courtship ; of his first seeing her , an awkward , beautiful rustic , far too shiftless for the delicate factory work to which she was apprenticed ; of his first gift to her , a bead necklace , which had long ago been put by , in one of the deep drawers of the dresser , to be kept for Mary .  He wondered if it was there yet , and with a strange curiosity he got up to feel for it ; for the fire by this time was well-nigh out , and candle he had none .  His groping hand fell on the piled-up tea things , which at his desire she had left unwashed till morning — they were all so tired .  He was reminded of one of the daily little actions , which acquire such power when they have been performed for the last time , by one we love .  He began to think over his wife 'sdaily round of duties ; and something in the remembrance that these would never more be done by her , touched the source of tears , and he cried aloud .  Poor Mary , meanwhile , had mechanically helped the neighbour in all the last attentions to the dead ; and when she was kissed , and spoken to soothingly , tears stole quietly down her cheeks : but she reserved the luxury of a full burst of grief till she should be alone .  She shut the chamber-door softly , after the neighbour had gone , and then shook the bed by which she knelt , with her agony of sorrow .  She repeated , over and over again , the same words ; the same vain , unanswered address to her who was no more .  " Oh , mother !  mother , are you really dead !  Oh , mother , mother !  "  At last she stopped , because it flashed across her mind that her violence of grief might disturb her father .  All was still below .  She looked on the face so changed , and yet so strangely like .  She bent down to kiss it .  The cold , unyielding flesh struck a shudder to her heart , and , hastily obeying her impulse , she grasped the candle , and opened the door .  Then she heard the sobs of her father 'sgrief ; and quickly , quietly , stealing down the steps , she knelt by him , and kissed his hand .  He took no notice at first , for his burst of grief would not be controlled .  But when her shriller sobs , her terrified cries ( which she could not repress ) , rose upon his ear , he checked himself .  " Child , we must be all to one another , now she is gone , " whispered he .  " Oh , father , what can I do for you ?  Do tell me !  I 'lldo any thing .  "  " I know thou wilt .  Thou must not fret thyself ill , that 'sthe first thing I ask .  Thou must leave me , and go to bed now , like a good girl as thou art .  "  " Leave you , father !  oh , do n't say so .  "  " Ay , but thou must !  thou must go to bed , and try and sleep ; thou'lt have enough to do and to bear , poor wench , to-morrow .  "  Mary got up , kissed her father , and sadly went up stairs to the little closet , where she slept .  She thought it was of no use undressing , for that she could never , never sleep , so threw herself on her bed in her clothes , and before ten minutes had passed away , the passionate grief of youth had subsided into sleep .  Barton had been roused by his daughter 'sentrance , both from his stupor and from his uncontrollable sorrow .  He could think on what was to be done , could plan for the funeral , could calculate the necessity of soon returning to his work , as the extravagance of the past night would leave them short of money , if he long remained away from the mill .  He was in a club , so that money was provided for the burial .  These things settled in his own mind , he recalled the doctor 'swords , and bitterly thought of the shock his poor wife had so recently had , in the mysterious disappearance of her cherished sister .  His feelings towards Esther almost amounted to curses .  It was she who had brought on all this sorrow .  Her giddiness , her lightness of conduct , had wrought this woe .  His previous thoughts about her had been tinged with wonder and pity , but now he hardened his heart against her for ever .  One of the good influences over John Barton 'slife had departed that night .  One of the ties which bound him down to the gentle humanities of earth was loosened , and henceforward the neighbours all remarked he was a changed man .  His gloom and his sternness became habitual instead of occasional .  He was more obstinate .  But never to Mary .  Between the father and the daughter there existed in full force that mysterious bond which unites those who have been loved by one who is now dead and gone .  While he was harsh and silent to others , he humoured Mary with tender love ; she had more of her own way than is common in any rank with girls of her age .  Part of this was the necessity of the case ; for , of course , all the money went through her hands , and the household arrangements were guided by her will and pleasure .  But part was her father 'sindulgence , for he left her , with full trust in her unusual sense and spirit , to choose her own associates , and her own times for seeing them .  With all this , Mary had not her father 'sconfidence in the matters which now began to occupy him , heart and soul ; she was aware that he had joined clubs , and become an active member of a trades 'union , but it was hardly likely that a girl of Mary 'sage ( even when two or three years had elapsed since her mother 'sdeath ) should care much for the differences between the employers and the employed , — an eternal subject for agitation in the manufacturing districts , which , however it may be lulled for a time , is sure to break forth again with fresh violence at any depression of trade , showing that in its apparent quiet , the ashes had still smouldered in the breasts of a few .  Among these few was John Barton .  At all times it is a bewildering thing to the poor weaver to see his employer removing from house to house , each one grander than the last , till he ends in building one more magnificent than all , or withdraws his money from the concern , or sells his mill to buy an estate in the country , while all the time the weaver , who thinks he and his fellows are the real makers of this wealth , is struggling on for bread for their children , through the vicissitudes of lowered wages , short hours , fewer hands employed , etc. And when he knows trade is bad , and could understand ( at least partially ) that there are not buyers enough in the market to purchase the goods already made , and consequently that there is no demand for more ; when he would bear and endure much without complaining , could he also see that his employers were bearing their share ; he is , I say , bewildered and ( to use his own word ) " aggravated " to see that all goes on just as usual with the mill-owners .  Large houses are still occupied , while spinners 'and weavers 'cottages stand empty , because the families that once occupied them are obliged to live in rooms or cellars .  Carriages still roll along the streets , concerts are still crowded by subscribers , the shops for expensive luxuries still find daily customers , while the workman loiters away his unemployed time in watching these things , and thinking of the pale , uncomplaining wife at home , and the wailing children asking in vain for enough of food , of the sinking health , of the dying life of those near and dear to him .  The contrast is too great .  Why should he alone suffer from bad times ?  I know that this is not really the case ; and I know what is the truth in such matters : but what I wish to impress is what the workman feels and thinks .  True , that with child-like improvidence , good times will often dissipate his grumbling , and make him forget all prudence and foresight .  But there are earnest men among these people , men who have endured wrongs without complaining , but without ever forgetting or forgiving those whom ( they believe ) have caused all this woe .  Among these was John Barton .  His parents had suffered , his mother had died from absolute want of the necessaries of life .  He himself was a good , steady workman , and , as such , pretty certain of steady employment .  But he spent all he got with the confidence ( you may also call it improvidence ) of one who was willing , and believed himself able , to supply all his wants by his own exertions .  And when his master suddenly failed , and all hands in that mill were turned back , one Tuesday morning , with the news that Mr. Hunter had stopped , Barton had only a few shillings to rely on ; but he had good heart of being employed at some other mill , and accordingly , before returning home , he spent some hours in going from factory to factory , asking for work .  But at every mill was some sign of depression of trade ; some were working short hours , some were turning off hands , and for weeks Barton was out of work , living on credit .  It was during this time his little son , the apple of his eye , the cynosure of all his strong power of love , fell ill of the scarlet fever .  They dragged him through the crisis , but his life hung on a gossamer thread .  Every thing , the doctor said , depended on good nourishment , on generous living , to keep up the little fellow 'sstrength , in the prostration in which the fever had left him .  Mocking words !  when the commonest food in the house would not furnish one little meal .  Barton tried credit ; but it was worn out at the little provision shops , which were now suffering in their turn .  He thought it would be no sin to steal , and would have stolen ; but he could not get the opportunity in the few days the child lingered .  Hungry himself , almost to an animal pitch of ravenousness , but with the bodily pain swallowed up in anxiety for his little sinking lad , he stood at one of the shop windows where all edible luxuries are displayed ; haunches of venison , Stilton cheeses , moulds of jelly — all appetising sights to the common passer by .  And out of this shop came Mrs. Hunter !  She crossed to her carriage , followed by the shopman loaded with purchases for a party .  The door was quickly slammed to , and she drove away ; and Barton returned home with a bitter spirit of wrath in his heart , to see his only boy a corpse !  You can fancy , now , the hoards of vengeance in his heart against the employers .  For there are never wanting those who , either in speech or in print , find it their interest to cherish such feelings in the working classes ; who know how and when to rouse the dangerous power at their command ; and who use their knowledge with unrelenting purpose to either party .  So while Mary took her own way , growing more spirited every day , and growing in her beauty too , her father was chairman at many a trades 'union meeting ; a friend of delegates , and ambitious of being a delegate himself ; a Chartist , and ready to do any thing for his order .  But now times were good ; and all these feelings were theoretical , not practical .  His most practical thought was getting Mary apprenticed to a dressmaker ; for he had never left off disliking a factory life for a girl , on more accounts than one .  Mary must do something .  The factories being , as I said , out of the question , there were two things open — going out to service , and the dressmaking business ; and against the first of these , Mary set herself with all the force of her strong will .  What that will might have been able to achieve had her father been against her , I cannot tell ; but he disliked the idea of parting with her , who was the light of his hearth , the voice of his otherwise silent home .  Besides , with his ideas and feelings towards the higher classes , he considered domestic servitude as a species of slavery ; a pampering of artificial wants on the one side , a giving-up of every right of leisure by day and quiet rest by night on the other .  How far his strong exaggerated feelings had any foundation in truth , it is for you to judge .  I am afraid that Mary 'sdetermination not to go to service arose from far less sensible thoughts on the subject than her father 's.  Three years of independence of action ( since her mother 'sdeath such a time had now elapsed ) had little inclined her to submit to rules as to hours and associates , to regulate her dress by a mistress 'sideas of propriety , to lose the dear feminine privileges of gossiping with a merry neighbour , and working night and day to help one who was sorrowful .  Besides all this , the sayings of her absent , her mysterious aunt , Esther , had an unacknowledged influence over Mary .  She knew she was very pretty ; the factory people as they poured from the mills , and in their freedom told the truth ( whatever it might be ) to every passer-by , had early let Mary into the secret of her beauty .  If their remarks had fallen on an unheeding ear , there were always young men enough , in a different rank from her own , who were willing to compliment the pretty weaver 'sdaughter as they met her in the streets .  Besides , trust a girl of sixteen for knowing well if she is pretty ; concerning her plainness she may be ignorant .  So with this consciousness she had early determined that her beauty should make her a lady ; the rank she coveted the more for her father 'sabuse ; the rank to which she firmly believed her lost aunt Esther had arrived .  Now , while a servant must often drudge and be dirty , must be known as a servant by all who visited at her master 'shouse , a dressmaker 'sapprentice must ( or so Mary thought ) be always dressed with a certain regard to appearance ; must never soil her hands , and need never redden or dirty her face with hard labour .  Before my telling you so truly what folly Mary felt or thought , injures her without redemption in your opinion , think what are the silly fancies of sixteen years of age in every class , and under all circumstances .  The end of all the thoughts of father and daughter was , as I said before , Mary was to be a dressmaker ; and her ambition prompted her unwilling father to apply at all the first establishments , to know on what terms of painstaking and zeal his daughter might be admitted into ever so humble a workwoman 'ssituation .  But high premiums were asked at all ; poor man !  he might have known that without giving up a day 'swork to ascertain the fact .  He would have been indignant , indeed , had he known that if Mary had accompanied him , the case might have been rather different , as her beauty would have made her desirable as a show-woman .  Then he tried second-rate places ; at all the payment of a sum of money was necessary , and money he had none .  Disheartened and angry he went home at night , declaring it was time lost ; that dressmaking was at all events a toilsome business , and not worth learning .  Mary saw that the grapes were sour , and the next day set out herself , as her father could not afford to lose another day 'swork ; and before night ( as yesterday 'sexperience had considerably lowered her ideas ) she had engaged herself as apprentice ( so called , though there were no deeds or indentures to the bond ) to a certain Miss Simmonds , milliner and dressmaker , in a respectable little street leading off Ardwick Green , where her business was duly announced in gold letters on a black ground , enclosed in a bird's-eye maple frame , and stuck in the front parlour window ; where the workwomen were called " her young ladies ; " and where Mary was to work for two years without any remuneration , on consideration of being taught the business ; and where afterwards she was to dine and have tea , with a small quarterly salary ( paid quarterly , because so much more genteel than by the week ) , a very small one , divisible into a minute weekly pittance .  In summer she was to be there by six , bringing her day 'smeals during the first two years ; in winter she was not to come till after breakfast .  Her time for returning home at night must always depend upon the quantity of work Miss Simmonds had to do .  And Mary was satisfied ; and seeing this , her father was contented too , although his words were grumbling and morose ; but Mary knew his ways , and coaxed and planned for the future so cheerily , that both went to bed with easy if not happy hearts .  CHAPTER IV .  OLD ALICE 'SHISTORY .  To envy nought beneath the ample sky ; To mourn no evil deed , no hour mis-spent ; And , like a living violet , silently Return in sweets to Heaven what goodness lent , Then bend beneath the chastening shower content . Elliott .  Another year passed on .  The waves of time seemed long since to have swept away all trace of poor Mary Barton .  But her husband still thought of her , although with a calm and quiet grief , in the silent watches of the night : and Mary would start from her hard-earned sleep , and think in her half-dreamy , half-awakened state , she saw her mother stand by her bed-side , as she used to do " in the days of long-ago ; " with a shaded candle and an expression of ineffable tenderness , while she looked on her sleeping child .  But Mary rubbed her eyes and sank back on her pillow , awake , and knowing it was a dream ; and still , in all her troubles and perplexities , her heart called on her mother for aid , and she thought , " If mother had but lived , she would have helped me .  " Forgetting that the woman 'ssorrows are far more difficult to mitigate than a child 's, even by the mighty power of a mother 'slove ; and unconscious of the fact , that she was far superior in sense and spirit to the mother she mourned .  Aunt Esther was still mysteriously absent , and people had grown weary of wondering and began to forget .  Barton still attended his club , and was an active member of a trades 'union ; indeed , more frequently than ever , since the time of Mary 'sreturn in the evening was so uncertain ; and , as she occasionally , in very busy times , remained all night .  His chiefest friend was still George Wilson , although he had no great sympathy on the questions that agitated Barton 'smind .  Still their hearts were bound by old ties to one another , and the remembrance of former times gave an unspoken charm to their meetings .  Our old friend , the cub-like lad , Jem Wilson , had shot up into the powerful , well-made young man , with a sensible face enough ; nay , a face that might have been handsome , had it not been here and there marked by the small-pox .  He worked with one of the great firms of engineers , who send from out their towns of workshops engines and machinery to the dominions of the Czar and the Sultan .  His father and mother were never weary of praising Jem , at all which commendation pretty Mary Barton would toss her head , seeing clearly enough that they wished her to understand what a good husband he would make , and to favour his love , about which he never dared to speak , whatever eyes and looks revealed .  One day , in the early winter time , when people were provided with warm substantial gowns , not likely soon to wear out , and when , accordingly , business was rather slack at Miss Simmonds ', Mary met Alice Wilson , coming home from her half-day 'swork at some tradesman 'shouse .  Mary and Alice had always liked each other ; indeed , Alice looked with particular interest on the motherless girl , the daughter of her whose forgiving kiss had so comforted her in many sleepless hours .  So there was a warm greeting between the tidy old woman and the blooming young work-girl ; and then Alice ventured to ask if she would come in and take her tea with her that very evening .  " You 'llthink it dull enough to come just to sit with an old woman like me , but there 'sa tidy young lass as lives in the floor above , who does plain work , and now and then a bit in your own line , Mary ; she 'sgrand-daughter to old Job Legh , a spinner , and a good girl she is .  Do come , Mary !  I 'vea terrible wish to make you known to each other .  She 'sa genteel-looking lass , too .  "  At the beginning of this speech Mary had feared the intended visitor was to be no other than Alice 'snephew ; but Alice was too delicate-minded to plan a meeting , even for her dear Jem , when one would have been an unwilling party ; and Mary , relieved from her apprehension by the conclusion , gladly agreed to come .  How busy Alice felt !  it was not often she had any one to tea ; and now her sense of the duties of a hostess were almost too much for her .  She made haste home , and lighted the unwilling fire , borrowing a pair of bellows to make it burn the faster .  For herself she was always patient ; she let the coals take their time .  Then she put on her pattens , and went to fill her kettle at the pump in the next court , and on the way she borrowed a cup ; of odd saucers she had plenty , serving as plates when occasion required .  Half an ounce of tea and a quarter of a pound of butter went far to absorb her morning 'swages ; but this was an unusual occasion .  In general , she used herb-tea for herself , when at home , unless some thoughtful mistress made her a present of tea-leaves from her more abundant household .  The two chairs drawn out for visitors , and duly swept and dusted ; an old board arranged with some skill upon two old candle-boxes set on end ( rather ricketty to be sure , but she knew the seat of old , and when to sit lightly ; indeed the whole affair was more for apparent dignity of position than for any real ease ) ; a little , very little round table put just before the fire , which by this time was blazing merrily ; her unlackered , ancient , third-hand tea-tray arranged with a black tea-pot , two cups with a red and white pattern , and one with the old friendly willow pattern , and saucers , not to match ( on one of the extra supply , the lump of butter flourished away ) ; all these preparations complete , Alice began to look about her with satisfaction , and a sort of wonder what more could be done to add to the comfort of the evening .  She took one of the chairs away from its appropriate place by the table , and putting it close to the broad large hanging shelf I told you about when I first described her cellar-dwelling , and mounting on it , she pulled towards her an old deal box , and took thence a quantity of the oat bread of the north , the clap-bread of Cumberland and Westmoreland , and descending carefully with the thin cakes threatening to break to pieces in her hand , she placed them on the bare table , with the belief that her visitors would have an unusual treat in eating the bread of her childhood .  She brought out a good piece of a four-pound loaf of common household bread as well , and then sat down to rest , really to rest , and not to pretend , on one of the rush-bottomed chairs .  The candle was ready to be lighted , the kettle boiled , the tea was awaiting its doom in its paper parcel ; all was ready .  A knock at the door !  It was Margaret , the young workwoman who lived in the rooms above , who having heard the bustle , and the subsequent quiet , began to think it was time to pay her visit below .  She was a sallow , unhealthy , sweet-looking young woman , with a careworn look ; her dress was humble and very simple , consisting of some kind of dark stuff gown , her neck being covered by a drab shawl or large handkerchief , pinned down behind and at the sides in front .  The old woman gave her a hearty greeting , and made her sit down on the chair she had just left , while she balanced herself on the board seat , in order that Margaret might think it was quite her free and independent choice to sit there .  " I cannot think what keeps Mary Barton .  She 'squite grand with her late hours , " said Alice , as Mary still delayed .  The truth was , Mary was dressing herself ; yes , to come to poor old Alice 's— she thought it worth while to consider what gown she should put on .  It was not for Alice , however , you may be pretty sure ; no , they knew each other too well .  But Mary liked making an impression , and in this it must be owned she was pretty often gratified — and there was this strange girl to consider just now .  So she put on her pretty new blue merino , made tight to her throat , her little linen collar and linen cuffs , and sallied forth to impress poor gentle Margaret .  She certainly succeeded .  Alice , who never thought much about beauty , had never told Margaret how pretty Mary was ; and , as she came in half-blushing at her own self-consciousness , Margaret could hardly take her eyes off her , and Mary put down her long black lashes with a sort of dislike of the very observation she had taken such pains to secure .  Can you fancy the bustle of Alice to make the tea , to pour it out , and sweeten it to their liking , to help and help again to clap-bread and bread-and-butter ?  Can you fancy the delight with which she watched her piled-up clap-bread disappear before the hungry girls , and listened to the praises of her home-remembered dainty ?  " My mother used to send me some clap-bread by any north-country person — bless her !  She knew how good such things taste when far away from home .  Not but what every one likes it .  When I was in service my fellow-servants were always glad to share with me .  Eh , it 'sa long time ago , yon .  "  " Do tell us about it , Alice , " said Margaret .  " Why , lass , there 'snothing to tell .  There was more mouths at home than could be fed .  Tom , that 'sWill 'sfather ( you do n't know Will , but he 'sa sailor to foreign parts ) , had come to Manchester , and sent word what terrible lots of work was to be had , both for lads and lasses .  So father sent George first ( you know George , well enough , Mary ) , and then work was scarce out toward Burton , where we lived , and father said I maun try and get a place .  And George wrote as how wages were far higher in Manchester than Milnthorpe or Lancaster ; and , lasses , I was young and thoughtless , and thought it was a fine thing to go so far from home .  So , one day , th 'butcher he brings us a letter fra George , to say he 'dheard on a place — and I was all agog to go , and father was pleased , like ; but mother said little , and that little was very quiet .  I 'veoften thought she was a bit hurt to see me so ready to go — God forgive me !  But she packed up my clothes , and some o ' the better end of her own as would fit me , in yon little paper box up there — it 'sgood for nought now , but I would liefer live without fire than break it up to be burnt ; and yet it 'sgoing on for eighty years old , for she had it when she was a girl , and brought all her clothes in it to father 's, when they were married .  But , as I was saying , she did not cry , though the tears was often in her eyes ; and I seen her looking after me down the lane as long as I were in sight , with her hand shading her eyes — and that were the last look I ever had on her .  "  Alice knew that before long she should go to that mother ; and , besides , the griefs and bitter woes of youth have worn themselves out before we grow old ; but she looked so sorrowful that the girls caught her sadness , and mourned for the poor woman who had been dead and gone so many years ago .  " Did you never see her again , Alice ?  Did you never go home while she was alive ?  " asked Mary .  " No , nor since .  Many a time and oft have I planned to go .  I plan it yet , and hope to go home again before it please God to take me .  I used to try and save money enough to go for a week when I was in service ; but first one thing came , and then another .  First , missis 'schildren fell ill of the measles , just when th 'week I 'dask 'dfor came , and I could n't leave them , for one and all cried for me to nurse them .  Then missis herself fell sick , and I could go less than ever .  For , you see , they kept a little shop , and he drank , and missis and me was all there was to mind children , and shop , and all , and cook and wash besides .  "  Mary was glad she had not gone into service , and said so .  " Eh , lass !  thou little knows the pleasure o 'helping others ; I was as happy there as could be ; almost as happy as I was at home .  Well , but next year I thought I could go at a leisure time , and missis telled me I should have a fortnight then , and I used to sit up all that winter working hard at patchwork , to have a quilt of my own making to take to my mother .  But master died , and missis went away fra Manchester , and I 'dto look out for a place again .  "  " Well , but , " interrupted Mary , " I should have thought that was the best time to go home .  "  " No , I thought not .  You see it was a different thing going home for a week on a visit , may be with money in my pocket to give father a lift , to going home to be a burden to him .  Besides , how could I hear o ' a place there ?  Anyways I thought it best to stay , though perhaps it might have been better to ha ' gone , for then I should ha ' seen mother again ; " and the poor old woman looked puzzled .  " I 'msure you did what you thought right , " said Margaret , gently .  " Ay , lass , that 'sit , " said Alice , raising her head and speaking more cheerfully .  " That 'sthe thing , and then let the Lord send what He sees fit ; not but that I grieved sore , oh , sore and sad , when toward spring next year , when my quilt were all done to th 'lining , George came in one evening to tell me mother was dead .  I cried many a night at after ; [ 3 ] I 'dno time for crying by day , for that missis was terrible strict ; she would not hearken to my going to th 'funeral ; and indeed I would have been too late , for George set off that very night by th 'coach , and th 'letter had been kept or summut ( posts were not like th 'posts now-a-days ) , and he found the burial all over , and father talking o 'flitting ; for he could n't abide the cottage after mother was gone .  "  " Was it a pretty place ?  " asked Mary .  " Pretty , lass !  I never seed such a bonny bit anywhere .  You see there are hills there as seem to go up into th 'skies , not near may be , but that makes them all the bonnier .  I used to think they were the golden hills of heaven , about which my mother sang when I was a child ,  ' Yon are the golden hills o 'heaven , Where ye sall never win . '  Something about a ship and a lover that should hae been na lover , the ballad was .  Well , and near our cottage were rocks .  Eh , lasses !  ye do n't know what rocks are in Manchester !  Gray pieces o 'stone as large as a house , all covered over wi 'moss of different colours , some yellow , some brown ; and the ground beneath them knee-deep in purple heather , smelling sae sweet and fragrant , and the low music of the humming-bee for ever sounding among it .  Mother used to send Sally and me out to gather ling and heather for besoms , and it was such pleasant work !  We used to come home of an evening loaded so as you could not see us , for all that it was so light to carry .  And then mother would make us sit down under the old hawthorn tree ( where we used to make our house among the great roots as stood above th 'ground ) , to pick and tie up the heather .  It seems all like yesterday , and yet it 'sa long long time agone .  Poor sister Sally has been in her grave this forty year and more .  But I often wonder if the hawthorn is standing yet , and if the lasses still go to gather heather , as we did many and many a year past and gone .  I sicken at heart to see the old spot once again .  May be next summer I may set off , if God spares me to see next summer .  "  " Why have you never been in all these many years ?  " asked Mary .  " Why , lass !  first one wanted me and then another ; and I could n't go without money either , and I got very poor at times .  Tom was a scapegrace , poor fellow , and always wanted help of one kind or another ; and his wife ( for I think scapegraces are always married long before steady folk ) was but a helpless kind of body .  She were always ailing , and he were always in trouble ; so I had enough to do with my hands and my money too , for that matter .  They died within twelvemonth of each other , leaving one lad ( they had had seven , but the Lord had taken six to Himself ) , Will , as I was telling you on ; and I took him myself , and left service to make a bit on a home-place for him , and a fine lad he was , the very spit of his father as to looks , only steadier .  For he was steady , although nought would serve him but going to sea .  I tried all I could to set him again a sailor 'slife .  Says I , ' Folks is as sick as dogs all the time they 'reat sea .  Your own mother telled me ( for she came from foreign parts , being a Manx woman ) that she 'dha thanked any one for throwing her into the water .  ' Nay , I sent him a ' the way to Runcorn by th 'Duke 'scanal , that he might know what th 'sea were ; and I looked to see him come back as white as a sheet wi 'vomiting .  But the lad went on to Liverpool and saw real ships , and came back more set than ever on being a sailor , and he said as how he had never been sick at all , and thought he could stand the sea pretty well .  So I telled him he mun do as he liked ; and he thanked me and kissed me , for all I was very frabbit [ 4 ] with him ; and now he 'sgone to South America , at t'other side of the sun , they tell me .  "  Mary stole a glance at Margaret to see what she thought of Alice 'sgeography ; but Margaret looked so quiet and demure , that Mary was in doubt if she were not really ignorant .  Not that Mary 'sknowledge was very profound , but she had seen a terrestrial globe , and knew where to find France and the continents on a map .  After this long talking Alice seemed lost for a time in reverie ; and the girls , respecting her thoughts , which they suspected had wandered to the home and scenes of her childhood , were silent .  All at once she recalled her duties as hostess , and by an effort brought back her mind to the present time .  " Margaret , thou must let Mary hear thee sing .  I do n't know about fine music myself , but folks say Margaret is a rare singer , and I know she can make me cry at any time by singing 'Th 'Owdham Weaver .  ' Do sing that , Margaret , there 'sa good lass .  "  With a faint smile , as if amused at Alice 'schoice of a song , Margaret began .  Do you know " The Oldham Weaver ?  " Not unless you are Lancashire born and bred , for it is a complete Lancashire ditty .  I will copy it for you .  THE OLDHAM WEAVER . Oi 'ma poor cotton-weyver , as mony a one knoowas , Oi 'venowt for t 'yeat , an 'oi 'vewoorn eawt my clooas , Yo'ad hardly gi 'tuppence for aw as oi 'veon , My clogs are boath brosten , an ' stuckins oi 'venone , Yo 'dthink it wur hard , To be browt into th 'warld , To be — clemmed , [ 5 ] an ' do th 'best as yo con . II . Owd Dicky o ' Billy 'skept telling me lung , Wee s 'dha 'better toimes if I 'dbut howd my tung , Oi 'vehowden my tung , till oi 'venear stopped my breath , Oi think i ' my heeart oi'se soon clem to deeath , Owd Dicky 'sweel crammed , He never wur clemmed , An ' he ne'er picked ower i ' his loife . [ 6 ] III . We tow'rt on six week — thinking aitch day wur th 'last , We shifted , an ' shifted , till neaw we 'requoite fast ; We lived upo 'nettles , whoile nettles wur good , An ' Waterloo porridge the best o 'eawr food , Oi 'mtellin 'yo 'true , Oi can find folk enow , As wur livin ' na better nor me . IV . Owd Billy o ' Dans sent th 'baileys one day , Fur a shop deebt oi eawd him , as oi could na pay , But he wur too lat , fur owd Billy o ' th 'Bent , Had sowd th 'tit an ' cart , an ' ta'en goods fur th 'rent , We 'dneawt left bo 'th 'owd stoo ' , That wur seeats fur two , An ' on it ceawred Marget an ' me . Then t ' baileys leuked reawnd as sloy as a meawse , When they seed as aw t 'goods were ta'en eawt o ' t ' heawse , Says one chap to th 'tother , " Aws gone , theaw may see ; " Says oi , " Ne'er freet , mon , yeaur welcome ta ' me . " They made no moor ado But whopped up th 'eawd stoo ' , An ' we booath leet , whack — upo 't 'flags ! VI . Then oi said to eawr Marget , as we lay upo 't 'floor , " We 'snever be lower i 'this warld , oi 'msure , If ever things awtern , oi 'msure they mun mend , For oi think i ' my heart we 'rebooath at t 'far eend ; For meeat we ha ' none ; Nor looms t 'weyve on , — Edad ! they 'reas good lost as fund . " VII . Eawr Marget declares had hoo cloo'as to put on , Hoo 'dgoo up to Lunnon an ' talk to th 'greet mon ; An ' if things were na awtered when there hoo had been , Hoo 'sfully resolved t ' sew up meawth an ' eend ; Hoo 'sneawt to say again t 'king , But hoo loikes a fair thing , An 'hoo says hoo can tell when hoo 'shurt .  The air to which this is sung is a kind of droning recitative , depending much on expression and feeling .  To read it , it may , perhaps , seem humorous ; but it is that humour which is near akin to pathos , and to those who have seen the distress it describes , it is a powerfully pathetic song .  Margaret had both witnessed the destitution , and had the heart to feel it ; and withal , her voice was of that rich and rare order , which does not require any great compass of notes to make itself appreciated .  Alice had her quiet enjoyment of tears .  But Margaret , with fixed eye , and earnest , dreamy look , seemed to become more and more absorbed in realising to herself the woe she had been describing , and which she felt might at that very moment be suffering and hopeless within a short distance of their comparative comfort .  Suddenly she burst forth with all the power of her magnificent voice , as if a prayer from her very heart for all who were in distress , in the grand supplication , " Lord , remember David .  " Mary held her breath , unwilling to lose a note , it was so clear , so perfect , so imploring .  A far more correct musician than Mary might have paused with equal admiration of the really scientific knowledge , with which the poor depressed-looking young needle-woman used her superb and flexile voice .  Deborah Travers herself ( once an Oldham factory girl , and afterwards the darling of fashionable crowds as Mrs. Knyvett ) might have owned a sister in her art .  She stopped ; and with tears of holy sympathy in her eyes , Alice thanked the songstress , who resumed her calm , demure manner , much to Mary 'swonder , for she looked at her unweariedly , as if surprised that the hidden power should not be perceived in the outward appearance .  When Alice 'slittle speech of thanks was over , there was quiet enough to hear a fine , though rather quavering , male voice , going over again one or two strains of Margaret 'ssong .  " That 'sgrandfather !  " exclaimed she .  " I must be going , for he said he should not be at home till past nine .  "  " Well , I 'llnot say nay , for I 'veto be up by four for a very heavy wash at Mrs. Simpson 's; but I shall be terrible glad to see you again at any time , lasses ; and I hope you 'lltake to one another .  "  As the girls ran up the cellar steps together , Margaret said : " Just step in and see grandfather .  I should like him to see you .  "  And Mary consented .  CHAPTER V.  THE MILL ON FIRE — JEM WILSON TO THE RESCUE .  Learned he was ; nor bird , nor insect flew , But he its leafy home and history knew ; Nor wild-flower decked the rock , nor moss the well , But he its name and qualities could tell . Elliott .  There is a class of men in Manchester , unknown even to many of the inhabitants , and whose existence will probably be doubted by many , who yet may claim kindred with all the noble names that science recognises .  I said " in Manchester , " but they are scattered all over the manufacturing districts of Lancashire .  In the neighbourhood of Oldham there are weavers , common hand-loom weavers , who throw the shuttle with unceasing sound , though Newton 's" Principia " lie open on the loom , to be snatched at in work hours , but revelled over in meal times , or at night .  Mathematical problems are received with interest , and studied with absorbing attention by many a broad-spoken , common-looking , factory-hand .  It is perhaps less astonishing that the more popularly interesting branches of natural history have their warm and devoted followers among this class .  There are botanists among them , equally familiar with either the Linnæan or the Natural system , who know the name and habitat of every plant within a day 'swalk from their dwellings ; who steal the holiday of a day or two when any particular plant should be in flower , and tying up their simple food in their pocket-handkerchiefs , set off with single purpose to fetch home the humble-looking weed .  There are entomologists , who may be seen with a rude-looking net , ready to catch any winged insect , or a kind of dredge , with which they rake the green and slimy pools ; practical , shrewd , hard-working men , who pore over every new specimen with real scientific delight .  Nor is it the common and more obvious divisions of Entomology and Botany that alone attract these earnest seekers after knowledge .  Perhaps it may be owing to the great annual town-holiday of Whitsun-week so often falling in May or June that the two great , beautiful families of Ephemeridæ and Phryganidæ have been so much and so closely studied by Manchester workmen , while they have in a great measure escaped general observation .  If you will refer to the preface to Sir J .  E .  Smith 'sLife ( I have it not by me , or I would copy you the exact passage ) , you will find that he names a little circumstance corroborative of what I have said .  Sir J .  E .  Smith , being on a visit to Roscoe , of Liverpool , made some inquiries from him as to the habitat of a very rare plant , said to be found in certain places in Lancashire .  Mr. Roscoe knew nothing of the plant ; but stated , that if any one could give him the desired information , it would be a hand-loom weaver in Manchester , whom he named .  Sir J .  E .  Smith proceeded by coach to Manchester , and on arriving at that town , he inquired of the porter who was carrying his luggage if he could direct him to So and So .  " Oh , yes , " replied the man .  " He does a bit in my way ; " and , on further investigation , it turned out , that both the porter , and his friend the weaver , were skilful botanists , and able to give Sir J .  E .  Smith the very information which he wanted .  Such are the tastes and pursuits of some of the thoughtful , little understood , working men of Manchester .  And Margaret 'sgrandfather was one of these .  He was a little wiry-looking old man , who moved with a jerking motion , as if his limbs were worked by a string like a child 'stoy , with dun coloured hair lying thin and soft at the back and sides of his head ; his forehead was so large it seemed to overbalance the rest of his face , which had indeed lost its natural contour by the absence of all the teeth .  The eyes absolutely gleamed with intelligence ; so keen , so observant , you felt as if they were almost wizard-like .  Indeed , the whole room looked not unlike a wizard 'sdwelling .  Instead of pictures were hung rude wooden frames of impaled insects ; the little table was covered with cabalistic books ; and a case of mysterious instruments lay beside , one of which Job Legh was using when his grand-daughter entered .  On her appearance he pushed his spectacles up so as to rest midway on his forehead , and gave Mary a short , kind welcome .  But Margaret he caressed as a mother caresses her first-born ; stroking her with tenderness , and almost altering his voice as he spoke to her .  Mary looked round on the odd , strange things she had never seen at home , and which seemed to her to have a very uncanny look .  " Is your grandfather a fortune-teller ?  " whispered she to her new friend .  " No , " replied Margaret , in the same voice ; " but you 'renot the first as has taken him for such .  He is only fond of such things as most folks know nothing about .  "  " And do you know aught about them , too ?  "  " I know a bit about some of the things grandfather is fond on ; just because he 'sfond on ' em I tried to learn about them .  "  " What things are these ?  " said Mary , struck with the weird looking creatures that sprawled around the room in their roughly-made glass cases .  But she was not prepared for the technical names which Job Legh pattered down on her ear , on which they fell like hail on a skylight ; and the strange language only bewildered her more than ever .  Margaret saw the state of the case , and came to the rescue .  " Look , Mary , at this horrid scorpion .  He gave me such a fright : I 'mall of a twitter yet when I think of it .  Grandfather went to Liverpool one Whitsun-week to go strolling about the docks and pick up what he could from the sailors , who often bring some queer thing or another from the hot countries they go to ; and so he sees a chap with a bottle in his hand , like a druggist 'sphysic-bottle ; and says grandfather , ' What have ye gotten there ?  ' So the sailor holds it up , and grandfather knew it was a rare kind o 'scorpion , not common even in the East Indies where the man came from ; and says he , ' How did ye catch this fine fellow , for he would n't be taken for nothing I 'mthinking ?  ' And the man said as how when they were unloading the ship he 'dfound him lying behind a bag of rice , and he thought the cold had killed him , for he was not squashed nor injured a bit .  He did not like to part with any of the spirit out of his grog to put the scorpion in , but slipped him into the bottle , knowing there were folks enow who would give him something for him .  So grandfather gives him a shilling .  "  " Two shilling , " interrupted Job Legh , " and a good bargain it was .  "  " Well !  grandfather came home as proud as Punch , and pulled the bottle out of his pocket .  But you see th 'scorpion were doubled up , and grandfather thought I could n't fairly see how big he was .  So he shakes him out right before the fire ; and a good warm one it was , for I was ironing , I remember .  I left off ironing , and stooped down over him , to look at him better , and grandfather got a book , and began to read how this very kind were the most poisonous and vicious species , how their bite were often fatal , and then went on to read how people who were bitten got swelled , and screamed with pain .  I was listening hard , but as it fell out , I never took my eyes off the creature , though I could not ha 'told I was watching it .  Suddenly it seemed to give a jerk , and before I could speak , it gave another , and in a minute it was as wild as could be , running at me just like a mad dog .  "  " What did you do ?  " asked Mary .  " Me !  why , I jumped first on a chair , and then on all the things I 'dbeen ironing on the dresser , and I screamed for grandfather to come up by me , but he did not hearken to me .  "  " Why , if I 'dcome up by thee , who 'dha 'caught the creature , I should like to know ?  "  " Well , I begged grandfather to crush it , and I had the iron right over it once , ready to drop , but grandfather begged me not to hurt it in that way .  So I could n't think what he 'dhave , for he hopped round the room as if he were sore afraid , for all he begged me not to injure it .  At last he goes to th 'kettle , and lifts up the lid , and peeps in .  What on earth is he doing that for , thinks I ; he 'llnever drink his tea with a scorpion running free and easy about the room .  Then he takes the tongs , and he settles his spectacles on his nose , and in a minute he had lifted the creature up by th 'leg , and dropped him into the boiling water .  "  " And did that kill him ?  " said Mary .  " Ay , sure enough ; he boiled for longer time than grandfather liked though .  But I was so afeard of his coming round again .  I ran to the public-house for some gin , and grandfather filled the bottle , and then we poured off the water , and picked him out of the kettle , and dropped him into the bottle , and he were there above a twelvemonth .  "  " What brought him to life at first ?  " asked Mary .  " Why , you see , he were never really dead , only torpid — that is , dead asleep with the cold , and our good fire brought him round .  "  " I 'mglad father does not care for such things , " said Mary .  " Are you !  Well , I 'moften downright glad grandfather is so fond of his books , and his creatures , and his plants .  It does my heart good to see him so happy , sorting them all at home , and so ready to go in search of more , whenever he 'sa spare day .  Look at him now !  he 'sgone back to his books , and he 'llbe as happy as a king , working away till I make him go to bed .  It keeps him silent , to be sure ; but so long as I see him earnest , and pleased , and eager , what does that matter ?  Then , when he has his talking bouts , you ca n't think how much he has to say .  Dear grandfather !  you do n't know how happy we are !  "  Mary wondered if the dear grandfather heard all this , for Margaret did not speak in an under tone ; but no !  he was far too deep and eager in solving a problem .  He did not even notice Mary 'sleave-taking , and she went home with the feeling that she had that night made the acquaintance of two of the strangest people she ever saw in her life .  Margaret , so quiet , so common place , until her singing powers were called forth ; so silent from home , so cheerful and agreeable at home ; and her grandfather so very different to any one Mary had ever seen .  Margaret had said he was not a fortune-teller , but she did not know whether to believe her .  To resolve her doubts , she told the history of the evening to her father , who was interested by her account , and curious to see and judge for himself .  Opportunities are not often wanting where inclination goes before , and ere the end of that winter Mary looked upon Margaret almost as an old friend .  The latter would bring her work when Mary was likely to be at home in the evenings and sit with her ; and Job Legh would put a book and his pipe in his pocket and just step round the corner to fetch his grand-child , ready for a talk if he found Barton in ; ready to pull out pipe and book if the girls wanted him to wait , and John was still at his club .  In short , ready to do whatever would give pleasure to his darling Margaret .  I do not know what points of resemblance ( or dissimilitude , for the one joins people as often as the other ) attracted the two girls to each other .  Margaret had the great charm of possessing good strong common sense , and do you not perceive how involuntarily this is valued ?  It is so pleasant to have a friend who possesses the power of setting a difficult question in a clear light ; whose judgment can tell what is best to be done ; and who is so convinced of what is " wisest , best , " that in consideration of the end , all difficulties in the way diminish .  People admire talent , and talk about their admiration .  But they value common sense without talking about it , and often without knowing it .  So Mary and Margaret grew in love one toward the other ; and Mary told many of her feelings in a way she had never done before to any one .  Most of her foibles also were made known to Margaret , but not all .  There was one cherished weakness still concealed from every one .  It concerned a lover , not beloved , but favoured by fancy .  A gallant , handsome young man ; but — not beloved .  Yet Mary hoped to meet him every day in her walks , blushed when she heard his name , and tried to think of him as her future husband , and above all , tried to think of herself as his future wife .  Alas !  poor Mary !  Bitter woe did thy weakness work thee .  She had other lovers .  One or two would gladly have kept her company , but she held herself too high , they said .  Jem Wilson said nothing , but loved on and on , ever more fondly ; he hoped against hope ; he would not give up , for it seemed like giving up life to give up thought of Mary .  He did not dare to look to any end of all this ; the present , so that he saw her , touched the hem of her garment , was enough .  Surely , in time , such deep love would beget love .  He would not relinquish hope , and yet her coldness of manner was enough to daunt any man ; and it made Jem more despairing than he would acknowledge for a long time even to himself .  But one evening he came round by Barton 'shouse , a willing messenger for his father , and opening the door saw Margaret sitting asleep before the fire .  She had come in to speak to Mary ; and worn out by a long working , watching night , she fell asleep in the genial warmth .  An old-fashioned saying about a pair of gloves came into Jem 'smind , and stepping gently up he kissed Margaret with a friendly kiss .  She awoke , and perfectly understanding the thing , she said , " For shame of yourself , Jem !  What would Mary say ?  "  Lightly said , lightly answered .  " She 'dnobbut say , practice makes perfect .  " And they both laughed .  But the words Margaret had said rankled in Jem 'smind .  Would Mary care ?  Would she care in the very least ?  They seemed to call for an answer by night , and by day ; and Jem felt that his heart told him Mary was quite indifferent to any action of his .  Still he loved on , and on , ever more fondly .  Mary 'sfather was well aware of the nature of Jem Wilson 'sfeelings for his daughter , but he took no notice of them to any one , thinking Mary full young yet for the cares of married life , and unwilling , too , to entertain the idea of parting with her at any time , however distant .  But he welcomed Jem at his house , as he would have done his father 'sson , whatever were his motives for coming ; and now and then admitted the thought , that Mary might do worse when her time came , than marry Jem Wilson , a steady workman at a good trade , a good son to his parents , and a fine manly spirited chap — at least when Mary was not by : for when she was present he watched her too closely , and too anxiously , to have much of what John Barton called " spunk " in him .  It was towards the end of February , in that year , and a bitter black frost had lasted for many weeks .  The keen east wind had long since swept the streets clean , though on a gusty day the dust would rise like pounded ice , and make people 'sfaces quite smart with the cold force with which it blew against them .  Houses , sky , people , and every thing looked as if a gigantic brush had washed them all over with a dark shade of Indian ink .  There was some reason for this grimy appearance on human beings , whatever there might be for the dun looks of the landscape ; for soft water had become an article not even to be purchased ; and the poor washerwomen might be seen vainly trying to procure a little by breaking the thick gray ice that coated the ditches and ponds in the neighbourhood .  People prophesied a long continuance to this already lengthened frost ; said the spring would be very late ; no spring fashions required ; no summer clothing purchased for a short uncertain summer .  Indeed there was no end to the evil prophesied during the continuance of that bleak east wind .  Mary hurried home one evening , just as daylight was fading , from Miss Simmonds ', with her shawl held up to her mouth , and her head bent as if in deprecation of the meeting wind .  So she did not perceive Margaret till , she was close upon her at the very turning into the court .  " Bless me , Margaret !  is that you ?  Where are you bound to ?  "  " To nowhere but your own house ( that is , if you 'lltake me in ) .  I 'vea job of work to finish to-night ; mourning , as must be in time for the funeral to-morrow ; and grandfather has been out moss-hunting , and will not be home till late .  "  " Oh , how charming it will be .  I 'llhelp you if you 'rebackward .  Have you much to do ?  "  " Yes , I only got the order yesterday at noon ; and there 'sthree girls beside the mother ; and what with trying on and matching the stuff ( for there was not enough in the piece they chose first ) , I 'mabove a bit behindhand .  I 'vethe skirts all to make .  I kept that work till candlelight ; and the sleeves , to say nothing of little bits to the bodies ; for the missis is very particular , and I could scarce keep from smiling while they were crying so , really taking on sadly I 'msure , to hear first one and then t'other clear up to notice the sit of her gown .  They were n't to be misfits I promise you , though they were in such trouble .  "  " Well , Margaret , you 'reright welcome as you know , and I 'llsit down and help you with pleasure , though I was tired enough of sewing to-night at Miss Simmonds '.  "  By this time Mary had broken up the raking coal , and lighted her candle ; and Margaret settled herself to her work on one side of the table , while her friend hurried over her tea at the other .  The things were then lifted en masse to the dresser ; and dusting her side of the table with the apron she always wore at home , Mary took up some breadths and began to run them together .  " Who 'sit all for , for if you told me I 'veforgotten ?  "  " Why for Mrs. Ogden as keeps the greengrocer 'sshop in Oxford Road .  Her husband drank himself to death , and though she cried over him and his ways all the time he was alive , she 'sfretted sadly for him now he 'sdead .  "  " Has he left her much to go upon ?  " asked Mary , examining the texture of the dress .  " This is beautifully fine soft bombazine .  "  " No , I 'mmuch afeared there 'sbut little , and there 'sseveral young children , besides the three Miss Ogdens .  "  " I should have thought girls like them would ha 'made their own gowns , " observed Mary .  " So I dare say they do , many a one , but now they seem all so busy getting ready for the funeral ; for it 'sto be quite a grand affair , well-nigh twenty people to breakfast , as one of the little ones told me ; the little thing seemed to like the fuss , and I do believe it comforted poor Mrs. Ogden to make all the piece o 'work .  Such a smell of ham boiling and fowls roasting while I waited in the kitchen ; it seemed more like a wedding nor [ 7 ] a funeral .  They said she 'dspend a matter o 'sixty pound on th 'burial .  "  " I thought you said she was but badly off , " said Mary .  " Ay , I know she 'sasked for credit at several places , saying her husband laid hands on every farthing he could get for drink .  But th 'undertakers urge her on you see , and tell her this thing 'susual , and that thing 'sonly a common mark of respect , and that every body has t'other thing , till the poor woman has no will o ' her own .  I dare say , too , her heart strikes her ( it always does when a person 'sgone ) for many a word and many a slighting deed to him , who 'sstiff and cold ; and she thinks to make up matters , as it were , by a grand funeral , though she and all her children , too , may have to pinch many a year to pay the expenses , if ever they pay them at all .  "  " This mourning , too , will cost a pretty penny , " said Mary .  " I often wonder why folks wear mourning ; it 'snot pretty or becoming ; and it costs a deal of money just when people can spare it least ; and if what the Bible tells us be true , we ought not to be sorry when a friend , who 'sbeen good , goes to his rest ; and as for a bad man , one 'sglad enough to get shut [ 8 ] on him .  I cannot see what good comes out o 'wearing mourning .  "  " I 'lltell you what I think th 'fancy was sent for ( Old Alice calls every thing 'sent for , ' and I believe she 'sright ) .  It does do good , though not as much as it costs , that I do believe , in setting people ( as is cast down by sorrow and feels themselves unable to settle to any thing but crying ) something to do .  Why now I told you how they were grieving ; for , perhaps , he was a kind husband and father , in his thoughtless way , when he was n't in liquor .  But they cheered up wonderful while I was there , and I asked ' em for more directions than usual , that they might have something to talk over and fix about ; and I left ' em my fashion-book ( though it were two months old ) just a purpose .  "  " I do n't think every one would grieve a that way .  Old Alice would n't .  "  " Old Alice is one in a thousand .  I doubt , too , if she would fret much , however sorry she might be .  She would say it were sent , and fall to trying to find out what good it were to do .  Every sorrow in her mind is sent for good .  Did I ever tell you , Mary , what she said one day when she found me taking on about something ?  "  " No ; do tell me .  What were you fretting about , first place ?  "  " I ca n't tell you just now ; perhaps I may sometime .  "  " When ?  "  " Perhaps this very evening , if it rises in my heart ; perhaps never .  It 'sa fear that sometimes I ca n't abide to think about , and sometimes I do n't like to think on any thing else .  Well , I was fretting about this fear , and Alice comes in for something , and finds me crying .  I would not tell her no more than I would you , Mary ; so she says , ' Well , dear , you must mind this , when you 'regoing to fret and be low about any thing , " An anxious mind is never a holy mind .  " ' Oh , Mary , I have so often checked my grumbling sin '[ 9 ] she said that .  "  The weary sound of stitching was the only sound heard for a little while , till Mary inquired ,  " Do you expect to get paid for this mourning ?  "  " Why I do not much think I shall .  I 'vethought it over once or twice , and I mean to bring myself to think I sha n't , and to like to do it as my bit towards comforting them .  I do n't think they can pay , and yet they 'rejust the sort of folk to have their minds easier for wearing mourning .  There 'sonly one thing I dislike making black for , it does so hurt the eyes .  "  Margaret put down her work with a sigh , and shaded her eyes .  Then she assumed a cheerful tone , and said ,  " You 'llnot have to wait long , Mary , for my secret 'son the tip of my tongue .  Mary !  do you know I sometimes think I 'mgrowing a little blind , and then what would become of grandfather and me ?  Oh , God help me , Lord help me !  "  She fell into an agony of tears , while Mary knelt by her , striving to soothe and to comfort her ; but , like an inexperienced person , striving rather to deny the correctness of Margaret 'sfear , than helping her to meet and overcome the evil .  " No , " said Margaret , quietly fixing her tearful eyes on Mary ; " I know I 'mnot mistaken .  I have felt one going some time , long before I ever thought what it would lead to ; and last autumn I went to a doctor ; and he did not mince the matter , but said unless I sat in a darkened room , with my hands before me , my sight would not last me many years longer .  But how could I do that , Mary ?  For one thing , grandfather would have known there was somewhat the matter ; and , oh !  it will grieve him sore whenever he 'stold , so the later the better ; and besides , Mary , we 'vesometimes little enough to go upon , and what I earn is a great help .  For grandfather takes a day here , and a day there , for botanising or going after insects , and he 'llthink little enough of four or five shillings for a specimen ; dear grandfather !  and I 'mso loath to think he should be stinted of what gives him such pleasure .  So I went to another doctor to try and get him to say something different , and he said , ' Oh , it was only weakness , ' and gived me a bottle of lotion ; but I 'veused three bottles ( and each of ' em cost two shillings ) , and my eye is so much worse , not hurting so much , but I ca n't see a bit with it .  There now , Mary , " continued she , shutting one eye , " now you only look like a great black shadow , with the edges dancing and sparkling .  "  " And can you see pretty well with th 'other ?  "  " Yes , pretty near as well as ever .  Th 'only difference is , that if I sew a long time together , a bright spot like th 'sun comes right where I 'mlooking ; all the rest is quite clear but just where I want to see .  I 'vebeen to both doctors again , and now they 'reboth o ' the same story ; and I suppose I 'mgoing dark as fast as may be .  Plain work pays so bad , and mourning has been so plentiful this winter , I were tempted to take in any black work I could ; and now I 'msuffering from it .  "  " And yet , Margaret , you 'regoing on taking it in ; that 'swhat you 'dcall foolish in another .  "  " It is , Mary !  and yet what can I do ?  Folk mun live ; and I think I should go blind any way , and I dar n't tell grandfather , else I would leave it off , but he will so fret .  "  Margaret rocked herself backward and forward to still her emotion .  " Oh Mary !  " she said , " I try to get his face off by heart , and I stare at him so when he 'snot looking , and then shut my eyes to see if I can remember his dear face .  There 'sone thing , Mary , that serves a bit to comfort me .  You 'llhave heard of old Jacob Butterworth , the singing weaver ?  Well , I know 'dhim a bit , so I went to him , and said how I wished he 'dteach me the right way o 'singing ; and he says I 'vea rare fine voice , and I go once a week , and take a lesson fra 'him .  He 'sbeen a grand singer in his day .  He 'sled th 'chorusses at the Festivals , and got thanked many a time by London folk ; and one foreign singer , Madame Catalani , turned round and shook him by th 'hand before the Oud Church [ 10 ] full o ' people .  He says I may gain ever so much money by singing ; but I do n't know .  Any rate it 'ssad work , being blind .  "  She took up her sewing , saying her eyes were rested now , and for some time they sewed on in silence .  Suddenly there were steps heard in the little paved court ; person after person ran past the curtained window .  " Something 'sup , " said Mary .  She went to the door and stopping the first person she saw , inquired the cause of the commotion .  " Eh , wench !  donna ye see the fire-light ?  Carsons 'mill is blazing away like fun ; " and away her informant ran .  " Come , Margaret , on wi 'your bonnet , and let 'sgo to see Carsons 'mill ; it 'safire , and they say a burning mill is such a grand sight .  I never saw one .  "  " Well , I think it 'sa fearful sight .  Besides I 'veall this work to do .  "  But Mary coaxed in her sweet manner , and with her gentle caresses , promising to help with the gowns all night long if necessary , nay , saying she should quite enjoy it .  The truth was , Margaret 'ssecret weighed heavily and painfully on her mind , and she felt her inability to comfort ; besides , she wanted to change the current of Margaret 'sthoughts ; and in addition to these unselfish feelings , came the desire she had honestly expressed , of seeing a factory on fire .  So in two minutes they were ready .  At the threshold of the house they met John Barton , to whom they told their errand .  " Carsons 'mill !  Ay , there is a mill on fire somewhere , sure enough , by the light , and it will be a rare blaze , for there 'snot a drop o 'water to be got .  And much Carsons will care , for they 'rewell insured , and the machines are a ' th 'oud-fashioned kind .  See if they do n't think it a fine thing for themselves .  They 'llnot thank them as tries to put it out .  "  He gave way for the impatient girls to pass .  Guided by the ruddy light more than by any exact knowledge of the streets that led to the mill , they scampered along with bent heads , facing the terrible east wind as best they might .  Carsons 'mill ran lengthways from east to west .  Along it went one of the oldest thoroughfares in Manchester .  Indeed all that part of the town was comparatively old ; it was there that the first cotton mills were built , and the crowded alleys and back streets of the neighbourhood made a fire there particularly to be dreaded .  The staircase of the mill ascended from the entrance at the western end , which faced into a wide dingy-looking street , consisting principally of public-houses , pawn-brokers 'shops , rag and bone warehouses , and dirty provision shops .  The other , the east end of the factory , fronted into a very narrow back street , not twenty feet wide , and miserably lighted and paved .  Right against this end of the factory were the gable ends of the last house in the principal street — a house which from its size , its handsome stone facings , and the attempt at ornament in the front , had probably been once a gentleman 'shouse ; but now the light which streamed from its enlarged front windows made clear the interior of the splendidly fitted up room , with its painted walls , its pillared recesses , its gilded and gorgeous fittings up , its miserable , squalid inmates .  It was a gin palace .  Mary almost wished herself away , so fearful ( as Margaret had said ) was the sight when they joined the crowd assembled to witness the fire .  There was a murmur of many voices whenever the roaring of the flames ceased for an instant .  It was easy to perceive the mass were deeply interested .  " What do they say ?  " asked Margaret , of a neighbour in the crowd , as she caught a few words , clear and distinct , from the general murmur .  " There never is anyone in the mill , surely !  " exclaimed Mary , as the sea of upward-turned faces moved with one accord to the eastern end , looking into Dunham Street , the narrow back lane already mentioned .  The western end of the mill , whither the raging flames were driven by the wind , was crowned and turreted with triumphant fire .  It sent forth its infernal tongues from every window hole , licking the black walls with amorous fierceness ; it was swayed or fell before the mighty gale , only to rise higher and yet higher , to ravage and roar yet more wildly .  This part of the roof fell in with an astounding crash , while the crowd struggled more and more to press into Dunham Street , for what were magnificent terrible flames , what were falling timbers or tottering walls , in comparison with human life ?  There , where the devouring flames had been repelled by the yet more powerful wind , but where yet black smoke gushed out from every aperture , there , at one of the windows on the fourth story , or rather a doorway where a crane was fixed to hoist up goods , might occasionally be seen , when the thick gusts of smoke cleared partially away for an instant , the imploring figures of two men .  They had remained after the rest of the workmen for some reason or other , and , owing to the wind having driven the fire in the opposite direction , had perceived no sight or sound of alarm , till long after ( if any thing could be called long in that throng of terrors which passed by in less time than half an hour ) the fire had consumed the old wooden staircase at the other end of the building .  I am not sure whether it was not the first sound of the rushing crowd below that made them fully aware of their awful position .  " Where are the engines ?  " asked Margaret of her neighbour .  " They 'recoming , no doubt ; but , bless you , I think it 'sbare ten minutes since we first found out th 'fire ; it rages so wi 'this wind , and all so dry-like .  "  " Is no one gone for a ladder ?  " gasped Mary , as the men were perceptibly , though not audibly , praying the great multitude below for help .  " Ay , Wilson 'sson and another man were off like a shot , well nigh five minute agone .  But th 'masons , and slaters , and such like , have left their work , and locked up the yards .  "  Wilson !  then , was that man whose figure loomed out against the ever increasing dull hot light behind , whenever the smoke was clear , — was that George Wilson ?  Mary sickened with terror .  She knew he worked for Carsons ; but at first she had had no idea any lives were in danger ; and since she had become aware of this , the heated air , the roaring flames , the dizzy light , and the agitated and murmuring crowd , had bewildered her thoughts .  " Oh !  let us go home , Margaret ; I cannot stay .  "  " We cannot go !  See how we are wedged in by folks .  Poor Mary !  ye wo n't hanker after a fire again .  Hark !  listen !  "  For through the hushed crowd , pressing round the angle of the mill , and filling up Dunham Street , might be heard the rattle of the engine , the heavy , quick tread of loaded horses .  " Thank God !  " said Margaret 'sneighbour , " the engine 'scome .  "  Another pause ; the plugs were stiff , and water could not be got .  Then there was a pressure through the crowd , the front rows bearing back on those behind , till the girls were sick with the close ramming confinement .  Then a relaxation , and a breathing freely once more .  " 'Twas young Wilson and a fireman wi 'a ladder , " said Margaret 'sneighbour , a tall man who could overlook the crowd .  " Oh , tell us what you see ?  " begged Mary .  " They 'vegotten it fixed again the gin-shop wall .  One o ' the men i ' th 'factory has fell back ; dazed wi 'the smoke , I 'llwarrant .  The floor 'snot given way there .  God !  " said he , bringing his eye lower down , " th 'ladder 'stoo short !  It 'sa ' over wi 'them , poor chaps .  Th 'fire 'scoming slow and sure to that end , and afore they 'veeither gotten water , or another ladder , they 'llbe dead out and out .  Lord have mercy on them !  "  A sob , as if of excited women , was heard in the hush of the crowd .  Another pressure like the former !  Mary clung to Margaret 'sarm with a pinching grasp , and longed to faint , and be insensible , to escape from the oppressing misery of her sensations .  A minute or two .  " They 'vetaken th 'ladder into th 'Temple of Apollor .  Ca n't press back with it to the yard it came from .  "  A mighty shout arose ; a sound to wake the dead .  Up on high , quivering in the air , was seen the end of the ladder , protruding out of a garret window , in the gable end of the gin palace , nearly opposite to the doorway where the men had been seen .  Those in the crowd nearest the factory , and consequently best able to see up to the garret window , said that several men were holding one end , and guiding by their weight its passage to the door-way .  The garret window-frame had been taken out before the crowd below were aware of the attempt .  At length — for it seemed long , measured by beating hearts , though scarce two minutes had elapsed — the ladder was fixed , an aerial bridge at a dizzy height , across the narrow street .  Every eye was fixed in unwinking anxiety , and people 'svery breathing seemed stilled in suspense .  The men were nowhere to be seen , but the wind appeared , for the moment , higher than ever , and drove back the invading flames to the other end .  Mary and Margaret could see now ; right above them danced the ladder in the wind .  The crowd pressed back from under ; firemen 'shelmets appeared at the window , holding the ladder firm , when a man , with quick , steady tread , and unmoving head , passed from one side to the other .  The multitude did not even whisper while he crossed the perilous bridge , which quivered under him ; but when he was across , safe comparatively in the factory , a cheer arose for an instant , checked , however , almost immediately , by the uncertainty of the result , and the desire not in any way to shake the nerves of the brave fellow who had cast his life on such a die .  " There he is again !  " sprung to the lips of many , as they saw him at the doorway , standing as if for an instant to breathe a mouthful of the fresher air , before he trusted himself to cross .  On his shoulders he bore an insensible body .  " It 'sJem Wilson and his father , " whispered Margaret ; but Mary knew it before .  The people were sick with anxious terror .  He could no longer balance himself with his arms ; every thing must depend on nerve and eye .  They saw the latter was fixed , by the position of the head , which never wavered ; the ladder shook under the double weight ; but still he never moved his head — he dared not look below .  It seemed an age before the crossing was accomplished .  At last the window was gained ; the bearer relieved from his burden ; both had disappeared .  Then the multitude might shout ; and above the roaring flames , louder than the blowing of the mighty wind , arose that tremendous burst of applause at the success of the daring enterprise .  Then a shrill cry was heard , asking  " Is the oud man alive , and likely to do ?  "  " Ay , " answered one of the firemen to the hushed crowd below .  " He 'scoming round finely , now he 'shad a dash of cowd water .  "  He drew back his head ; and the eager inquiries , the shouts , the sea-like murmurs of the moving rolling mass began again to be heard — but for an instant though .  In far less time than even that in which I have endeavoured briefly to describe the pause of events , the same bold hero stepped again upon the ladder , with evident purpose to rescue the man yet remaining in the burning mill .  He went across in the same quick steady manner as before , and the people below , made less acutely anxious by his previous success , were talking to each other , shouting out intelligence of the progress of the fire at the other end of the factory , telling of the endeavours of the firemen at that part to obtain water , while the closely packed body of men heaved and rolled from side to side .  It was different from the former silent breathless hush .  I do not know if it were from this cause , or from the recollection of peril past , or that he looked below , in the breathing moment before returning with the remaining person ( a slight little man ) slung across his shoulders , but Jem Wilson 'sstep was less steady , his tread more uncertain ; he seemed to feel with his foot for the next round of the ladder , to waver , and finally to stop half-way .  By this time the crowd was still enough ; in the awful instant that intervened no one durst speak , even to encourage .  Many turned sick with terror , and shut their eyes to avoid seeing the catastrophe they dreaded .  It came .  The brave man swayed from side to side , at first as slightly as if only balancing himself ; but he was evidently losing nerve , and even sense : it was only wonderful how the animal instinct of self-preservation did not overcome every generous feeling , and impel him at once to drop the helpless , inanimate body he carried ; perhaps the same instinct told him , that the sudden loss of so heavy a weight would of itself be a great and imminent danger .  " Help me !  she 'sfainted , " cried Margaret .  But no one heeded .  All eyes were directed upwards .  At this point of time a rope , with a running noose , was dexterously thrown by one of the firemen , after the manner of a lasso , over the head and round the bodies of the two men .  True , it was with rude and slight adjustment : but , slight as it was , it served as a steadying guide ; it encouraged the sinking heart , the dizzy head .  Once more Jem stepped onwards .  He was not hurried by any jerk or pull .  Slowly and gradually the rope was hauled in , slowly and gradually did he make the four or five paces between him and safety .  The window was gained , and all were saved .  The multitude in the street absolutely danced with triumph , and huzzaed and yelled till you would have fancied their very throats would crack ; and then with all the fickleness of interest characteristic of a large body of people , pressed and stumbled , and cursed and swore in the hurry to get out of Dunham Street , and back to the immediate scene of the fire , the mighty diapason of whose roaring flames formed an awful accompaniment to the screams , and yells , and imprecations , of the struggling crowd .  As they pressed away , Margaret was left , pale and almost sinking under the weight of Mary 'sbody , which she had preserved in an upright position by keeping her arms tight round Mary 'swaist , dreading , with reason , the trampling of unheeding feet .