ther Thomas, to make worsted goods, but after his marriage the
partnership was dissolved. He then became the proprietor of the Scout
Farm, and there brought up his family.

Although Abraham Turner was a landed proprietor, he did not think it
beneath him to allow his daughter Martha to go out to service. When
about fifteen years old she went as a servant to Miss Oldfield at
Warley. In that service, in her own person, she did the work of
kitchenmaid, housemaid, and cook, and in addition to that, she milked
four or five cows night and morning. She remained about ten years with
Miss Oldfield. Her wages were at first fifteen-pence a week; after two
years, they were increased to eighteen-pence; and after nine years'
service, they were increased to six guineas a year. Yet during that time
Martha Turner saved thirty pounds by sheer thrift.

John Crossley, the founder of the Crossley firm, and the husband of
Martha Turner, was originally a carpet-weaver. One night, when working
at the loom, he was taking his "drinking," and on laying down his black
bottle it fell and broke. In trying to catch the bottle, he cut his arm
so severely that it was thought he would have bled to death. He could
not work at the loom any longer, and he was going about with his arm in
a sling, when his employer, Mr. Currer, said to him, "John, do you think
you could tie up a loom, as you cannot now weave?" John replied that he
thought he could. He tried, and proved so expert that his master would
not allow him to go back to the loom. John Crossley used to regard the
accident to his arm as the turning-point in his life.

In the meantime he was going on with the business of courtship, though
it was very much against the wish of the proud farmer--the father of
Martha Turner. He declared that he would never allow his daughter to
marry a weaver, or even a foreman of weavers. Perhaps the story of their
courtship is best told in Martha's own words.

"When I went to the gate one evening, there was a young man standing
there, who asked me if I wanted a sweetheart. I answered, 'Not I, marry!
I want no sweethearts.' I then went into the house, and left him. I saw
the same young man frequently about, but did not speak to him for years
after. His name was John Crossley. When my mistress ascertained his
object, she did all she could to set me against him. She told me that
when she was a girl, she had gone to a boarding-school kept by a Mrs.
Crossley,--that her husba