The daily morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven, Conn.) 1894-1907, 1896-07-10
NEW HAVEN MORNING COURIER FRIDAY JULY TO- 1896


letter she had found. The old laborer
her husband, and she, listened with
awe and admiration as | read the let
ter, which, 1t was evident by their
shrugs and remarks, contained secrets
they had long wanted to fathom. How
lowly was their lot. And yet what no.
Bile men and women have sprung from
the cotter's hearth! How many OF the
first stalwart farmers of our own west
of Canada and of Australia, came from
such humble homes. How hard their
lot, how few their pleasures, how cheap
their luXuries,
In some story of those times that l
once read, an old woman says, Eyes, it
was Sunday, for we had wrinkles for
supper" The cost of periwinkles was
from two to four cents quart; and
yet, such was the poverty for the Ia
boring classes that wrinkles were a
feast for holy days.
What picture do see as | read that
sentence; an old house, part stone and
part brick, plaster and heavy cross
timbers; tiles covered with households
and yellow MOSES; sanded floor, an
old fireplace where all the cooking is
done over a fire made from crooked,
broken boughs which have been carried
many miles, and is served on the Will
low pattern plates that shine in the
racks; a host of rosy-faced, blue-eyed,
flaxen-haired children. An aged wo-
man, whose nose and chin almost meet,
issues from the place. She has on a
coal-scuttle bonnet and scarlet cloak,
Her ancient partner is bent with years
of toll. His smock frock, or gabardine,
has many pleats and is scrupulously
clean. His knee breaches and their
shining buttons come over his heavy
ribbed socks and his feet are in hob
nailed boots that weigh six or seven
pounds, but shine like patent leather.
SO much for the garb; but those toll
worn hands would make Carlyle weep,
and those rudy cheeks and kindly
eyes-what dignity of manhood they
unconsciously claim.
Outside the door from which they
pass hangs large willow cage with q
blackbird inside it, Far off are the
blue hills; near by, the golden furze,
the linnets and the bees. In the gar
den, wall-iowers, hollyhocks and
host of such old friends perfume the
air Evening comes and the old couple
return like birds to their nest. From
the groves the nightingale sends out
her gushing melody, and from far
away the village bells send their soft
music into the souls of the aged pair,
who, on some other evening, when they
are yet older, will remember this day,
that it was Sunday, for they had win
kles for supper
Yes, it was Sunday, and all unknown
to them, not many miles away, Maui
rice and Kingsley were just sounding
the keynote of better times for the
rustic and the artisan. The artisan!
| Think of Liverpool, Manchester or Blr-
| mingham then and now. Ever so much
to do yet before justice is full and
brotherly, but then the poorly lighted,
half famished mechanics, in Sums
without sewers, and to-day the model
| homes with their baths and bright,
cheap, plentiful lamplight and day
light. 3isl
The changes of half century are
well-nigh past belief In the times
when I was born the English poor sell
| dom tasted meat of any kind. Bacon
| was an unusual treat. Women and
children. worked in deep mines Men
We're shipped iii rotten hulks that We're
| insured for all they We're worth, in their
owners hope that they would go to the
bottom Little boys of my sort had
to climb into chimneys to clean them
| and sometimes stuck fast and We're not
released until severely hurt. Many a
winter morning have | heard the poor
little sweep crying sweep SCOT O.
Hours of work were long, and the pay
small. When the ten-hour law was in
| troduced, Daniel O'Connell said Man
| chester would become tomb. He was
! great man, but a poor prophet
| When / was born, water to many, was
scarce and dear. In cities like Man
| chester and Liverpool one-eighth of the
population lived in cellars. Over half
| the children in cities died before their
! fifth year. In every thousand of the
population one hundred and twenty
| two were criminals; now only thirty
| eight are So Those were the days of
| the gaudy yellow stage coach Now it
stands in a shed; the fowls perch on
| the famous front seat and matronly
hens strut forth from its interior as la
/ dies fair came out of it when | was
born. How are the mighty fallen!
| Yes, but how have the lowly risen.
Say not thou. What is the cause that
| the former days were better than
these? for that dost not inquire wisely
| concerning this" We have moved for
ward a thousand years since | was
| born.