the--the foolishness which seems to guide and
guard your proceedings as a tradesman in this manufacturing part of the
country. Hem! Sir, I would beg to allude that as a furriner, coming from
a distant coast, another quarter and hemisphere of this globe, thrown,
as I may say, a perfect outcast on these shores--the cliffs of
Albion--you have not that understanding of huz and wer ways which might
conduce to the benefit of the working-classes. If, to come at once to
partic'lars, you'd consider to give up this here miln, and go without
further protractions straight home to where you belong, it 'ud happen be
as well. I can see naught ageean such a plan.--What hev ye to say
tull't, lads?" turning round to the other members of the deputation,
who responded unanimously, "Hear, hear!"

"Brayvo, Noah o' Tim's!" murmured Joe Scott, who stood behind Mr. Moore.
"Moses'll niver beat that. Cliffs o' Albion, and t' other hemisphere! My
certy! Did ye come fro' th' Antarctic Zone, maister? Moses is dished."

Moses, however, refused to be dished. He thought he would try again.
Casting a somewhat ireful glance at "Noah o' Tim's," he launched out in
his turn; and now he spoke in a serious tone, relinquishing the sarcasm
which he found had not answered.

"Or iver you set up the pole o' your tent amang us, Mr. Moore, we lived
i' peace and quietness--yea, I may say, in all loving-kindness. I am not
myself an aged person as yet, but I can remember as far back as maybe
some twenty year, when hand-labour were encouraged and respected, and no
mischief-maker had ventured to introduce these here machines which is so
pernicious. Now, I'm not a cloth-dresser myself, but by trade a tailor.
Howsiver, my heart is of a softish nature. I'm a very feeling man, and
when I see my brethren oppressed, like my great namesake of old, I stand
up for 'em; for which intent I this day speak with you face to face, and
advises you to part wi' your infernal machinery, and tak on more hands."

"What if I don't follow your advice, Mr. Barraclough?"

"The Looard pardon you! The Looard soften your heart, sir!"

"Are you in connection with the Wesleyans now, Mr. Barraclough?"

"Praise God! Bless His name! I'm a joined Methody!"

"Which in no respect prevents you from being at the same time a drunkard
and a swindler. I saw you one night a week ago laid dead-drunk by the
roadside, as I returned from Stilbro' market; and while you preach
peace, you make it the business o