a domestic who had entered into
service in early childhood had stayed on until age or a by no means
premature marriage put an end to the association. One of my mother's
maids stayed with her for a matter of some thirty years and finally left
her to share the destinies of a working mason. The honest fellow had
just fulfilled a profitable, small contract in so satisfactory a manner
that he was offered something bigger which, in due time, was followed by
a something bigger yet. In a while, Jane was keeping her carriage, but
on her frequent visits to her old mistress her demeanour never changed,
unless one could read into it a trifle of apology for her rustling silk
dress and black kid gloves. She developed a love for long words which
had not distinguished her in her earlier years, and this tendency
betrayed her into occasional malapropisms, the best of which is perhaps
worth preserving. My mother was a very notable housewife and trainer of
domestic servants. It was her pet hobby to take some neglected little
draggle-tail from the workhouse and to turn her into an efficient
maid-of-all-work. When this self-imposed duty was accomplished, the maid
invariably went elsewhere in search of higher wages, so that my mother
was rarely without some slatternly little pupil whom she was drilling
into ways of household order. Jane came one day in her rustling silks
and streamers to announce a discovery. "The very girl you want, ma'am; I
am sure you could turn her into a perfect treasure." "Well, Jane," said
my mother, "you know what I want. I want three qualities in a girl and
if she has them, I can make a good servant of her. I want her to be
honest and willing and clean. Is she honest?" "As the day, ma'am," says
Jane. "And is she willing?" "Oh, as willing as the rising sun, ma'am."
"And is she clean?" "Clean, ma'am," says Jane, raising her black gloved
hands to emphasise the affirmation, "she's _scrofulously_ clean!"

And then the poets! there was not a parish or a hamlet for a good ten
miles round but had its own acknowledged bard. There were continual
tragedies happening in the coal mines. Men were much more careless in
the handling of naked lights than they are now, and the beneficent gift
of the Davy lamp was looked on with mistrust. The machinery by which the
men were lowered to their work was often inadequate. There was nothing
like a scientific system of ventilation and fatalities were appallingly
frequent. Whenever one happened