Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1892-02-25

Wade, give me your hand! | suppose if
I am the best mechanic in England
called so on good authority-you won't
mind striking palms with me- .
shook him by the hand pretty vigor-
ously.
You've got a middling strong grip Of
your fist for one of the overgrown sort, !"
said he. where's your friend, John
Brent?
..Here in London. searching for Miss
Clitheroer
where's your horse--the black?"
"Dead. Shot and drowned in the Mis-
souri,, helping off Il fugitive slave"
"Thats brave. Well, Richard Wade,
my dear child Ellen Clitheroe and her
father are here in my house. They are
safe here, after all their troubles. M in
that room where perhaps you marked the
roses in the window. She has been sick
at heart to have heard nothing from you
since she came to England. 1t will be
the one thing she lacks to see you, and if
you will let me say few words to you
first I'll take you to them"
$50 on. If you have protected my
friends, you are my friend, and l want
to hear what you have to say"
Il am short, and | shall try to make a
long story Short" said Padiham. 81
wish to tell you, in as few words as |
may, why Mr.. Clitheroe and his daughter
are in my house.
Look at me, a stunted mani Life in
a coal mine stunted me. suppose | was
born underground. know that never
remember when was not at work,
either harnessed like dog and dragging
Goals through shop where l could not
stand upright, or, when | grew stronger
bigger | was not to grow-down in
the darkest holes, beating out with q
pickax stuff to make other mems houses
warm and CHEEKY. If had had air and
sun and light and hope | might have
been shapely man.
1t was in Lancashire, the coal mine
where had been shut up, boy and man,
some twenty years, as | reckon. There
came one daya weakly man, who hadn't
been used to work hard, into the shaft,
and they put him at drawing out the
Goals | dug. Hugh was the name he
gave, and he hadn't been long enough
underground to get his face black be-
fore we'd baptized him Gentleman Hugh.
had never seen a gentleman to know
him, but | had feeling of what one
ought to be, and so had my mates in the
pit. Gentleman Hugh seemed to us to
suit the nickname we gave him. We're
roughs down in the coal pits, and some
of us are brutes enough; but Gentleman
Hugh managed to get us all ON his side,
and there wasn't man of us that
wouldn't give him a lift
S'Gentleman Hugh took fancy to me
and SO did | to him. Nature had mis-
used me and life had misused him. We
had something to pity each other for.
But | had the advantage in the dark
damp hole where we worked. had lost
nothing; knew of nothing better; | was
healthy and strong if | was stunted;
could help Gentleman Hugh and save
him wearing himself out. And So | did.
He WAS the first person or creature | had
ever cared for
Il did what Iceuid for him ia tighten
ing his work. but Ire gave me back 4 iann-
dred times what | could give. | was
hands without head, or without any head
that could make my hands of use He
had head enough, and things in his head,
but his hands were never meant for
tools to get living. Gentleman Hugh
walked up my brains. | knew how to
pick and dig, and sometimes wondered
if that was all | should ever he at But
air and daylight seemed as if they did
not belong to me. | was a drudge and
never thought of anything but drudging
until Gentleman Hugh came down into
my shaft and began to tell me what there
/ was outside of coal mines.
'.He told me about himself; that he
was Hugh Ciitheroe, a gentleman, and
how he had been ruined by factories and
/ coal speculations. 1t was his losing his
\ fortune in coal mine that set him on
coming into ours to make his bread, and
! poor bread, too, for a gentleman. He
said he was sick of daylight. 1t was
better to be drudge, SO he said, down
in the blackest and wettest hole Of any
coalpit in Lancashire than to beg bread
of men that pretended to be his friends
when he was rich, and sneered at him
for his folly in losing his wealth. l
found out that there were wrongs and
brutality above ground as well as un-
I der it.
''By and by, when Gentleman Hugh
and had got to be friends, he took me
one holiday and showed me his daugh-
4 ter. She was a sweet little lass. He had
\ left her with the rough women, the
miners wives. But she had her own
way with them just as he had had with
US. They called her little Lady Ellen,
and would have cut up their own brats,
/ if they hadn't been too tough, if she had
wanted such diet. Little Ellen, sweet
lass was not afraid Of Inc, Dwarf George
\ and Runt George as they called me. She
did not run away and cry, or point and
4 laugh at me rs the other children did.
She was picking daisies on the edge Of
an old coalpit when we first saw her-a
little curly haired lass of five years old.
She was crowned with daisies, and she
didn't seem to me to belong to the same
class of beings as the grimy things had
been among all my days. She gave me
a daisy, and asked me if | knew who
made it, And when | said didn't
know, unless it came Of itself, she named
God to me. Nobody had named God to
me before except in oaths.
''Do | tire you, sir, said Padiham,
with this talk about myself"
Certainly not; you interest me great
ly.7
''The old gentleman will hardly be
ready to see you yet. 1t is almost nine,
and at the stroke of nine he has his break
fast. | always 60 up then to give him
good morning. You can go with me"
Meantime, tell me how you found
them again"
81 found them by drawing of hers.
But viii go on straightforward with
my story.
II couldn't stay dolt, though had
TO drudge for many 4 day after first
saw little Ellen, and She gave me the
daisy and named God to me. Whenever
could get away, and that was only once
a quarter or half year, went up to see
her. She made friend Of me. and told
me to take care Of her father He was
very much down, quite broken and help
less, with just enough strength to do half
his appointed work. So ! helped him
with the rest.
"a RI = ~ r. Il