Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1892-01-28

4 took the old hall. Hugh Clitheroe in
Harry the Eighth's time built it, on land
where the family had lived from before
Egbert. 1 lost it, sir. The family came
4 to an end with me- | found sherif's
officers making beer rings on my old cak
dining table. The Vandykes went.
Hugh, Of Cromwell's days, was divorced
! from his wife, the Beauts. | tried to
keep them together; but scrubs bought
them and stuck them up in their vulgar
parIors. Sorry business! Sorry busi-
ness
You kept u brave heart through it
all"
.Yes, until they accused me Of dis
honesty. That felt bitterly, and every
body gave me the cold shoulder. could
get nothing to do. There is not much
! that broken down gentlemen can do,
but no one would trust me. | grew
poorer than you eau conceive. lost all
heart. Men are poor creatures -as q
desolate man finds"
'.Not all, hope was my protest.
'sTruly not all, but the friends Of pros
perity are birds that come to be fed and
4 fly away when the crumbs give out. All
are not base and time serving, but men
are busy and careless, and fancy that
others can always take care of them
selves. | could not beg, sir, but it came
near starvation to mein Christian Eng
land-to me and my young daughter,
within a year after my misfortunes.
\ Perhaps | was overproud or overvain,
but grew tired of the Sights of people
that had known me in my better days,
I and now lodged me because / was shah
by and poor. I wanted to get out of
sight of the ungrateful, ungracious
world. The blue sky grew hateful to
me. / must live, or if life was nothing
! to me my daughter must not starve.
had q choice of factory or coal mine to
hide myself in. sank into coal mine, =
"a strange contrastr' ! said, after a
pause.
81 am trying to make the whole his
tory less dreamy. Each seems unreal
my luxurious life at Clitheroe Hall, and
my troglodyte life down in the coal pit
Idler and slave; either extreme had its
own special unhappiness and unhealthi-
ness.
\ How much wisdom there was in the
weakness of the old mans character!
\ The more talked with him, the more
pitiable seemed his destiny, ssOh, John
Brent" | groaned in my heart, ''plead
! with the daughter as man never pleaded
before We must save them from the
3fr,,,o1 fafn bofor, thar, AL - .l.1.
cannot master her father, and you, John
Brent. cannot master her, there is no
! hope
Ny friend made no sign that he was
ready to close his interview with the
lady. The noise Of the ball still came to
us with the puffs Of the evening wind.
prompted the communicative old gen
tlemanto renew his story.
Il have seen the interior of some of
the Lancashire mines; ] have read the
blue book upon theln,D ! said. "You
must have been In Il rough place, with
company as rough"
1T was hard for man of delicate
nurture But the men liked me. They
were not Bisgcs~-nog all-n they were
roughs. Brutes get away from places
where hard work is done. My mates
down in the mine made it easy for me.
They called me Gentleman Hugh. /
was rather proud, sir, l confess, to find
myself liked and respected for what /
was, not for what had. 1t was hard
< life and rough life. but it was an hon
est life, and my child was too young to
miss what her birth entitled her to.
1T was in our mine that / first knew
Of the Latter-day church For years
had drudged there, and never thought,
or in fact for myself much cared, to
come ont. had tried the pleasures and
friendships Of gay life; they had nothing
new or good to give me. For years
had toiled, when the first apostle came
cut and began to make proselytes to the
faith in our country. They have never
disdained the mean and the lowly.
tell you, sir, that we in our coal pit, and
our brothers in the factories, listened to
apostles who came across seas and la
bored among us as if they loved our
souls. The false religions and outgrown
! religions left us in the dark; but the true
light came to us. Ny mates in the Ian
cashire mine joined the church by hun
dreds. asstill blind and careless. 1t
was not until long afterward that the
time for my conversion came.
As my daughter grew up felt that
ought to be by her. had worked long
time IN the mine, and was known to have
( some education. The company gave me
q clerkship in their Office, and there
drudged again for years, asking no help
or favor. 1t was in another part of the
county from my old residence, where
nobody knew me. My dear child-she
has always been a good child to me, ex-
4 cept that she sometimes wishes to rule a
little too much-iny dear Ellen became
almost a woman, and all | lacked was
the means Of giving her the position of
her rank. Education she got herself.
/ We We're not unhappy, sheand together,
( lonely as we might be and out of place. 4
The old gentleman had been talking Of
himself in such cheerful, healthy way
and shown that he had borne such a
/ brave heart through his troubles that
began to puzzle myself what could have
again changed his character and made
him the weakling | had recognized in
the interview with Sizzun.
1T is very kind Of you, he said, ito
listen to /; garrulus old fellow. Your
sympathy is very pleasant, but | must
not test it too far. | will end my long
story presently.
II supposed myself entirely forgotten,
as was quite willing to be. BY and by
was remembered and sought A far
away kinsman had left me a legacy. 1t
was enough for a quiet subsistence for
us two, for Ellen and me. returned to
the neighborhood of my old home
found little cottage on the banks of
Ribble within sight of my old friend,
Pendle hill. There we lived.
From this point Mr.. Clitheroe's man
ner totally changed. His voice grew
4 peeyish and complaining. All the man
ly feeling he had showed in bris fly de-
scribing his day laborer's life passed
away. He detailed to me how the new
proprietor at Clitheroe Hall patronized
him insufferably; how his old neighbors
turned up their noses at him, and in
suited him by condescension. How mis-
erable he found it to cramp himself and
save shillings in cottage with the
! hot4-o l., cierht vrl,are ha had luvisbad