The Cotton Factory Times. — 1895-04-19 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

CHAPTER %XXIX. A COLLIERY EXPLOSION AND A MURDER.  Will Worrill truly bewailed the death of his young son: but his strong grief drove him to strong drink. He went "on the spree" once more. He was drunk at the funeral; he was a maudlin mourner at the graveside. The clergyman who rushed through the burial service was shocked, and made a mental note of the father's intoxication; it was another proof of the hopeless depravity of the masses; how could one expect those folks to live decently who couldn't behave themselves even in the presence of death ? ; this instance would serve admirably for the pamphlet he was writing on " The Natural and Ineradicable Inferiority of the Working Classes in Manners, Morals, and all Mental Matters " ; and help to demonstrate the almighty arguments he advanced in favour of government by aristocracy. The reverend gentleman, like many other fashionable authors, made exceptions into rules, and reasoned accordingly: for really he knew nothing of working-class life, but the little he had observed from his Sunday pulpit or picked up in a weekly drive through the main streets of Slagbourne when he took his wife a-shopping and looking at the great milliners' windows.  About half-past nine on the morning after the buryin," Rose, setting off on an errand into Slagbourne, met Susy Worrill coming up the lane into Denwood. Susy was dragging along in a loose dejected way; her eyes were wild; her face miserable with crying. "What's the matter, Busy ?" asked Rose.  Susy sobbed. "It's all up with me, Rose, as I told you it would be. This morning I came out for the first time. TIM women sneaked to their doors; and I could not hear them, but I could feel them talking about me. Yet I remembered your words, Rose, and resolved to bear up." "That was brave, Susy." " Ah, Rose! you can't understand. I would sooner die— But that's not the tale. I went to Rackleton's--" "You went there I"  "Yes; where else could I go? Mother said it was about time I started working again. She doesn't mean to be unkind—but—l daresay the world's full of unkindness that was never meant. I thought of my little brothers and sisters—though I wish they were all dead with Arthur—and I got on my things, and wentlto Rackleton's. I thought that him that had ruined me would, at least, pity me, and give me my work back. But—oh !—oh, it's cruel !" and Susy burst into violent weeping. Then she made an effort, and gasped, "He told me to go home, and never come near the place again. He said I was a disgrace, and he wasn't going to have his weaving shed polluted by the likes o' me; and he said that if I ventured there again he'd have me horsewhipped." Rose's eyes flashed fury. "And he said that ?" she cried. _ _  _ "Yes," moaned Susy, "he said that." "My God !" exclaimed Rose, "what horrible dastards there are in the world. Poor girl! Go home, Busy, my sister, and tell your mother not to trouble about this matter. She shall not miss your bit of wage; I'll see to that. And perhaps we'll soon find you something to do." sillily crawled on, and Rose stood looking after her for a moment. Then she resumed her walk to Slagbourne. But she turned aside at the first lane she came to on the right hand, and went to a farmhouse about fifty yards' distance from the main pan&