Mary Barton

lf-indulgenc

elf-denial

ets, broad-buil

althy corners

here the wate

ths refreshed b

lleys where the

us to this a

what do these complain? MRS

flowers, the rain had only a disheartening and gloomy effect; the streets were wet and dirty, the drippings from the houses were wet and dirty

fore she heard some one fumbling at the door. The noise continued long enough to allo

things, unheeding. But Mary would not let him so rest. She ran up and brought down his working day clothes, and went into the pantry to rummage up their li

lude occasionally about love and lovers,--had not heard the political news of the day: that Parliament had refused to listen to the working men, when they petitioned, with all the force of their rough, un

her what oppressed him so, yet durst not ask. In this she was wise; for when we are heavy-laden in

and stole her hand into his, while his sadness infected her, a

ar us, for man will not hearken; no,

fraid of speaking wrongly, that she was silent. But when his attitude had remained unchanged for more than half-an-hour, his eyes gazing vacantly and fixedly at the fire, no sound but no

enly and almost violently compressed.) "He dropped down dead i

er father's face for sympathy. Still the same fixe

o die," he said

tell Margaret that she need not come to sleep with her to-ni

tising her singing, and through the still night

ort ye, my people

d not interrupt. She stood listening and "comforted," till the little

nddaughter rose instantl

," said old Job. "He'll be

rt; but in an hour or so John Barton was talking away as freely as ever, though all his ta

ever thought on, or ever heerd tell on except in th' story-books. They a

Lazarus! Does it haunt the minds of

ather," asked Mary, who was sitting

s, they telled me. Onesixth may be made up o' grand palaces, and three-sixth's o' middling kind,

but did you s

rsel might ha' sitten down to. I suppose they thought we wanted putting in heart. There were mutton kidneys, and sausages, and broiled ham, and fried beef and onions; more like a dinner nor a breakfast. Many on our chaps though, I could see, could eat but little. Th' food stuck in their throats when they thought o' them at home, wives and little

is none to

e in then! They're sadly puzzled how to build houses though in London; there'd be an opening for a good steady master builder there, as know'd his business. For yo see the houses are many on 'em built without any proper shape for a body to live in; some on em they've after thought would fall down, so they've stuck great ugly pillars out before 'em. And some on 'em (we thought they must be th' tailors' sign) had getten stone men an

asse

me o' th' gentlemen as couldn't get inside hung on behind, wi' nosegays to smell at, and sticks to keep off folk as might splash their silk stockings. I wondered why they didn't hire a cab rather than hang on like a whip-behind boy; but I suppose they wished to keep wi' their wives, Darby and Joan like. Coachmen were little squat men, wi' wigs like th' oud-fashioned parsons'. Well, we could na get on for these carriag

y all tongue-tied, and can't say their a's and i's properly), 'and it's our business to

eath to us, and many a little one clemming at home in Lancashire? Which business is of most conseque

ha' held my peace,

a little, to see if he wo

ry, man. Tell us what happened wh

le pause, Jo

other; but I canna tell ofour down-casting just as a piece of London news. As long as I live, our rejection that day will b

nquiries, they sat sil

's gloom was lost. So after a while he thought of a subject, neither sufficiently dissonant from the last

" said he to Mary, "that

prise, and looking at Jo

old me she and Frank Jennings (as was a joiner lodging near us) should be so happy if they were married, I could not find in my heart t' say her nay, though I went sick at the thought of losing her away from my home. However, she was my only child, and I never said nought of what I felt, for fear o' grieving her young

ou said the young ma

. She so happy, and he so happy; only the poor father as fretted sadly behind their backs. They were married and stayed some days wi' me afore setting off; and I've often thought sin', Margaret's heart failed her many a time those few days, and she would fain ha' spoken

replied his g

ney, thinking come Whitsuntide I'd take a holiday and go and see her an' th' little one. But one day towards Whitsun-tide, corned Jennings wi' a grave face, and says he, 'I hear our Frank and your Margaret's both getten the fever.' You might ha' knocked me down wi a straw, for it seemed as if God told me what th' upshot would be. Old Jennings had gotten a letter, yo see, fra' the landlady they lod

ter when you got there?

th' door to us. We said, 'Where are they?' and I knew they were dead; fra' her look; but Jennings didn't, as I take it; for when she showed

ere dead, and there were no one to love me, no not one. I disremember rightly

ast asleep, wi' his pocket handkerchief over his head for a night-cap. She said he'd cried himself fairly off to sleep. There were tea on th' table all ready; for she were a kindhearted body. But she still said, 'Come here,' and took hold o' my arm. So I went round the table, and there were a clothes-basket by th' fire, wi' a shawl put o'er it. 'Lift that up,' sa

n a big, crowded, lonely churchyard in London. I were loath to leave them there, as I thought, when they rose again, they'd feel so strange at first away fra' Manchester, and all old friends; but it could na be helped. Well, God watches o'er their graves there as well as here. That funeral cost a mint o' money, but Jennings and I wished to do th' thing decent. Then we'd the stout little babby to bring home. We'd not overmuch

ing th' babby we got better nor a gill into its mouth, but more nor that came up again, wetting a' th' nice dry clothes landlady had put on. Well, just as we'd gotten to th' dinner-table, and helped oursels, and eaten two mouthfuls, came in th' guard, and a fine chap wi' a sample o' calico flourishing in his hand. 'Coach is ready!' says one; 'Half-a-crown your dinner!' says the other. Well, we thought it a deal for both our dinners, when we'd hardly tasted 'em; but, bless your life, it were half-a-crown apiece, and a shilling for th' bread and milk as were possetted all over babby's clothes. We spoke up again it; but everybody said it were the rule, so what could two poor o

et and smiling like, as it lay in her arms, that we thought 'twould be no trouble to have it wi' us. I says: 'See, Jennings, how women folk do quiet

ave you gotten a

for gentlemen as does not like t

h' babby seems to have taken a mind to yo; and may be in th'

ps, th' one wi' a woman's nightcap on, sitting on our hinder ends for half th' night, hushabying a babby as wouldn't be hushabied. Toward morning, poor little wench! it fell asleep, fairly tired out wi' crying, but even in its sleep it gave such pitiful sobs, quivering up fra' the very bottom of its little heart, that once or twice I almost wished it lay on its mother's breast, at peace for ever. Jennings fell asleep too; but I began for to reckon up our money. It were little enough we had left, our dinner the day afore had ta'

ng so like home), and walked a' that day, carrying babby turn and turn about. It were well fed by chamber-maid afore we left, and th' day were fine, and folk began to have some knowledge o' th' proper way o' speaking, and we were more cheery at thoughts o' home (though mine, God knows, were lonesome enough). We stopped none for dinner, but at baggin-time we gette

t so like gentlefolk a to

walk if we had na ridden, and I'm sure

ad been done amiss when there were no going back to undo it. So presently be coughs,

t would ha' been better for my son if he had

ut that I were carrying her babby, I think I should ha'

never to ha' made th' world, for then we'd never ha'

nts God had pleased to send, were worse blasphemy. Howe'er, I said nought more angry, for

ere glad to sit down again, though I thought my legs would never bend at th' knees. In a minute she fell a noticing th' babby, and took it in her arms, and kissed it again and again. 'Missis,' says I, 'we're not without money, and if yo'd give us somewhat for breakfast, we'd pay yo honest, and if yo would wash and dress that poor babby, and get some pobbies down its throat, for it's well-nigh clemmed, I'd pray for you till my dying day." So she said nought, but gived me th' babby back, and afore you could say Jack Robinson, she'd a pan on th' fire, and bread and cheese on th' table. When she turned round, her face looked red, and her lips were tight pressed together. Well w

m a little whip an' a broken rattle. I began to have an insight into that woman's heart then. She took out a thing or two, and locked the drawer, and went on dressing babby. Just about then come her husband down, a great big fellow as didn't look half awake, though it were getting late; but he'd heard all as had been said down stai

r, and stood there whistling wi' his hands in his breeches-pock

m to have no breakf

lic-house reckoning, for we'd eaten a main deal afore the chap came down. So says I, 'And missis, what should we gie you for the babby's bread and milk?' (I had it once in my mind to say 'and for a' your trouble with it,' but my heart would na let me say it, for I could read in her ways how it had been a work o' love). So says she, quite quick, and stealing a look at her husband's back, as looked all ear, if ever a back did, 'Oh, we could take nought for the little babby's food, if it had eaten twice as much, bless it.' Wi' that he looked at her; such a scowling look! She knew what he meant, and stepped softly across the floor to him, and p

hen he had carried his granddaughter under the dist

"That night we reached Manchester, and I'd found out that Jennings would be glad enoug

a bird steals to her leafy nest. Her half-open mouth was as scarlet as the winter-berries, and contrasted finely with the clear paleness of her complexion, where the eloquent blood flushed carnation at each emotion. Her black eye-lashes lay on the delicate cheek, which was still more shaded by the masses of her golden h

."Even her father could not keep from smiling

n oud times. It were like enough to send thee to sleep. Try if thou canst keep thine eyes open while I read thy father

ing his legs, and coughing to clear his voice, he read aloud

oor, who, on t

alleys dim and

r pale girl, who

er afflictio

tcast lamb; she

ps, and frozen

yes are mode

hair streams on

sing fair, is

, the snow lies

ed, her shoes a

lamb, who standst for

oor! An infant

narrow gatewa

hing there, so

ild, to screen

nt, her bonnet

doth her baby

des the ruthle

her heart hath

udden, darts a

w hot bread, go

empting load

ee, helpless one, forl

oor! Behold yo

ose, his wounde

ait, and looks

nward, stopp

tored with art

to enjoy one

ungry palate

zest the famis

s a crust of

hands the preci

he storm that

help thee, child forlo

poor! Another

d venerabl

at with faded

ey, and thread

" seem "to mock

bosom to the

s and casts

napkin wipes th

und, as if he

d feasted in

ad; and some ha

d he is left forlorn

or, who in lone

, where whin an

story sad in

the world, and

il and want

oom doth call

worn-out nature

are not fed. The

less cot, and b

howls a dirge

perish thus--op

amine, hopeless,

yet arise and

y! wench, couldst thou copy me them lines, dost thi

re heard and read

ntine, all bordered with hearts and darts--a valentine she had once suspe