# Monthly scrap book, for October/Variety of Short Scraps

VARIETIES.
Results of Machinery.—In the seventeenth century, France began to manufacture into stuffs the raw cotton imported from India, as Italy had done a century before. A cruel act of despotism drove the best French workmen, who were protestants, into England, and we learnt the manufacture. The same act of despotism, the revocation of the edict of Nantes, caused the settlement of silk-manufacturers in Spital-fields. We did not make any considerable progress in the art, nor did we use the material of cotton exclusively in making up the goods. The warp, or longitudinal threads of the cloth, were of flax, the weft only was of cotton; for we could not twist it hard enough by hand to serve both purposes. This weft was spun entirely by hand with a distaff and spindle,—the same tedious process which prevails amongst the natives of India. Our manufacture in spite of all these disadvantages, continued to increase; so that about 1700, although there were fifty thousand spindles at work in Lancashire alone, the weaver found the greatest difficulty in procuring a sufficient supply of thread. Neither weaving nor spinning were then carried on in large factories. They were domestic occupations. The women of a family worked at the distaff or the hand-wheel, and there were two operations necessary in this department; roving, or coarse spinning, reduced the carded cotton to the thickness of a quill, and the spinner afterwards drew out and twisted the roving into weft fine enough for the weaver. A writer on the cotton manufacture, Mr Guest, states, that very few weavers could procure weft enough to keep themselves constantly employed. "It was no uncommon thing," he says, "for a weaver to walk three or four miles in a morning, and call on five or six spinners, before he could collect weft to serve him for the remainder of the day; and when he wished to weave a piece in a shorter time than usual, a new ribbon or gown was necessary to quicken the exertions of the spinner.
A Ticklish Way to Please.—It was said of Marlborough that he could deny a favour asked, and yet dismiss the person to whom he denied it, better pleased than some other men could do who really conferred the favour. A very old story, told of three brothers, will in some measure explain this seeming paradox of the gallant General. They belonged to a family blessed with abundance of high-sounding titles, but very deficient in that vulgar necessary "the king's corn." It was the custom in bygone days, when visiting a noble family—were it only at a dinner party—to give money to all the servants of the mansion according to their respective stations. The two elder brothers were often sorely pinched on such occasions to maintain a becoming dignity towards the menials, while the younger brother took such matters very coolly, and went through a trial scene of this nature with the utmost unconcern. One day the three brothers dined at Lord B———'s, whose retinue was sufficiently formidable. On retiring from the banquet, they found the servants ranked up along the passage "in horrible array," from the portly butler down to the frigid whipper-in. When the elder brothers had done their best to please the servants, their douceurs were received with a cold sort of gravity, unaccompanied by any of those ​grateful smiles which more than repay a liberal minded man for his benevolence. On looking round to see how their younger brother fared, they were astonished to observe a smile on every countenance When fairly outside the noble mansion, they inquired at him how he managed to please so well, seeing that they had both given—thcir last sixpence without producing a single sign of approbation? "Oh, ho!" says he, "I had no money, but I just kittled their loof, and they were quite delighted,
A Candid Thief—George Hewton, a miserable-looking old man, who, according to his own story, had served his Majesty by "flood and field," was indicted for stealing twenty yards of linen from Henry Coleman of Francis Street. The prisoner pleaded guilty. The Recorder asked the prisoner if he was aware of the manner in which he had pleaded to the indictment. The prisoner said he was. Recorder—You had better withdraw that plea, and plead not guilty. Prisoner—Just as your Lordship pleases; whatever your Lordship wishes: it is all the same to me now: I have neither friend nor fallow; I am "run a-ground." (Laughter,) Recorder—The Court will allow you to plead not guilty. Prisoner—Very well, your Lordship; I wish I warn't. (Laughter.) The prosecutor was examined, and he stated that the prisoner entered his shop in Francis Street, took a piece of linen, and marched off with it. Prisoner (interrupting the witness)--And before I could sheer off with it you stopt me grappled with me, and hauled off the canvass. (Laughter.) Recorder—Has the prisoner any thing to ask the witness? Prisoner—Oh the d—l a word; he has told the truth, every word of it; he is an honest young man, and God keep him so. (Laughter.) Recorder (addressing the Jury)—Gentlemen, the prisoner is indicted for stealing twenty yards of linen from Henry Coleman; you have heard the witness who has been produced; his evidence has established the case against the prisoner. Prisoner—You are perfectly right, my Lord; but I hope your Lordship will give me the benefit of the statute, and transport me out of the country, for I have no means of living in it. The jury returned a verdict of guilty. The prisoner was sentenced to seven months imprisonment and hard labour.
A Seat in Church.—A very genteel-looking young man was seen to enter a Church in time of service; he paused at the entrance; the congregation stared; he advanced a few steps, and deliberately surveying the whole assembly, commenced a slow march up the broad aisle; not a pew was opened; the audience were too busy for civility; he wheeled, and in the same manner performed a march, stepping as it to Roslin Castle, or the dead march in Saul, and disappeared. A few moments after he re-entered with a huge block upon his shoulders, as heavy as he could well stagger under; his countenance was immoveable; again the good people stared, half-rose from their seats, with their books in their hands.—At length he placed the block in the very centre of the principal passage, and seated himself upon it. Then, for the first time, the reproach was felt. Every pew door in the Church was instantly flung open. But—no; the stranger was a gentleman; he came ​not there for disturbance; he moved not; smiled not; but preserved the utmost decorum, until the service was concluded, when he shouldered his block, and, to the same slow step, bore away, and replaced it where he had found it.
New Heresy.—The minister of a neighbouring parish observing that one of his hearers had absented himself from church for several Sundays together, called upon the recusant and upbraided him for his neglect of Christian duties:—"Ah! John," said he, "what's the matter with you now, that you’ve been so remiss in attending the kirk of late—is it Atheism, or Deism, or that sad Rowism that's the cause?" "Faith no, Sir," said John, "it's something a thousand times waur than a' that." "Save us!" exclaimed the minister, "what can that be?" "Eh! d—n it, Sir," replied John, in a spasm of agony, "its Rheumatism."
Hint to Husbands.—Bishop Thomas was a man of humour and drollery. At a visitation, he gave his clergy an account of his being married four times,—"and," says he cheerfully, "should my present wife die. I will take another; and it is my opinion that I shall survive her. Perhaps you don't know the art of getting quit of your wives. I'll tell you how to do I am called a very good husband; and so I am; for I never contradict them. But don’t you know that the want of contradiction is fatal to women? If you contradict them, that circumstance alone is exercise and health, et optima medicamenta. to all women. But give them their own way, and they will languish and pine, and become gross and lethargic for want of this exercise.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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