Appendix.
Transcribed from the 1882 G. S. Cook edition by David Price, email ccx074@pgaf.org
Spes tutissima CÆlis.
Interesting Incidents
Connected with the Life of
GEORGE BICKERS,
Originally a Farmer’s Parish Apprentice at
Laxfield, in Suffolk, but now
RESIDING IN OULTON,
In the same County,
Being an
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Of the above,
From 1809 to 1881,
Inclusive.
All Rights of Re-production reserved
Lowestoft:
G. S. Cook, Nelson Printing Works.
Photograph of George Bickers
The writer of these pages was born at Laxfield, a village in the County of Suffolk, on the 16th day of January, 1809, the forty-eighth year of our good King George the Third’s happy reign. That eventful day was to me the commencement of a long and sometimes tedious journey: oftimes I have had to encounter great perils and dangers, but out of all the Lord hath delivered me.
That eventful day witnessed the closing career of a great British General, Sir John Moore, at Corunna, a seaport of Spain, whither he had gone to take the command of the English forces, in order, if possible, to relieve that unhappy country, then being sorely harassed by the armies of Napoleon I., under the command of the Duke of Dalmatia (Marshall Soult), but the campaign proved a failure, resulting in the death of the Commander-in-Chief, and the re-embarkation of the troops, with a loss of about eight hundred of our countrymen, Soult being more than a match for the valour of British arms on that memorable and trying occasion. But France was destined to be humbled, and six years later on, Napoleon and his generals felt the weight of British prowess at Waterloo.
I was the second son of my parents, Benjamin and Charlotte, poor, but industrious people, my father being an agricultural labourer: and, having but a slender income, yet felt a wish their children should acquire a little education, which might prove useful to them in their future stations in life under which they might be called.
When about four years of age, while one day playing in the road with other children, near my father’s cottage, there happened to be a horse, belonging to a miller of the name of Heffer, quietly feeding. Being then (as since) very forward in mischief, I threw my cap at the quiet creature, and then must needs go too near its heels to pick it up; the sad consequence was I was kicked on the head, and my right eye nearly perished, but, under the skilful treatment of Mr. Alling, a surgeon in the village, my eyesight was preserved, and, although I am writing more than sixty years later on, yet the scar still remains, and also the seam in the bone is still perceptible. But what of the poor horse? He came to grief very soon after, as one day being loose in the stable, and the master, going in to take him some food, omitted to shut the door, the horse ran out, and, before the man could recover him, he was struck by one of the sails of the windmill, and was killed thereby. This accident reminded the owner of that dangerous machine that it would be much better to raise it higher, which was soon after accomplished. And, perhaps, I may be permitted to observe that, by the kind care of a watchful and loving Jehovah, my life was preserved; and, in looking back, can praise the Lord for His goodness, and for the care extended unto me at this, the beginning of my journey of a long life.
The time had now arrived when school must be attended, and my first schoolmaster was Mr. Benjamin Chenery, at that time clerk and sexton of the parish, and was no ways sparing of the heads and backs of his pupils, but we hope, on the whole, he followed a rightful course, for he had in his vocation many grave and solemn duties to perform, both as to the interment of the aged, as also the education and training of the young.
Under the care and tuition of Benjamin, I first learned to read, to write upon a slate, and do little sums, after having mastered the figures. Easy spelling also came on, as a matter of course; and there was no lack of errands to perform, as well for the mistress as the master, and I occasionally assisted in sweeping up the church, the chancel being occupied as a schoolroom during the summer season, when fire was not needed, as the master was not usually at a loss to supply a warming.
The churchyard, too spacious as it was, proved a most excellent playground; there were plain spaces for marbles and tops, piers and buttresses for hide-and-seek; graves, and stones, and tombs, to jump over and jump from, without any restriction, and readily did we unite in these healthful exercises, however dangerous or mischievous they might be in other respects.
There was another school near, kept by Mr. John Goodwin; the pupils were more advanced, some being farmers’ sons. That being a free school, yet the master was allowed to take private pupils. Females, also, were instructed, having a room to themselves opposite the master’s desk, called the “Ladies’ Room.” The boys at those schools were not allowed to play together, the smaller ones possessing the protection of the sacred enclosure, which was at the larger ones’ peril to invade. We could see them at their play, as we looked through the openings of the gate; and there was sometimes displayed a germ of hostility among the youthful students.
In attending this school I was taught to read, and also easy spelling, as before observed; then came little sums in addition, subtraction, and multiplication. I soon became able to read in class; we daily read the Psalms from the book of Common Prayer. We did not have bible reading at this school, as many families at that time did not possess the sacred volume, my parents being among that number; but our immediate neighbours were in possession of a bible, and were always willing to lend it to my parents of an evening, and the owners, being aged people, would often invite me to stand and read to them from their bible, of Adam and Eve, of Noah, of Abraham, and Lot, of Isaac and Jacob, and also that remarkable narrative of Joseph and his brethren. These exercises were to me helps in the right direction. My master found I was getting on, and set me to read to him pieces from history, principally from Goldsmith’s “Vicar of Wakefield.” The closing paragraph of the 7th chapter I will here insert, because, although more than sixty years have rolled away, yet I well remember the concluding sentences. Here is a sample:—
“My wife now kept up the conversation, though not the argument. She observed that several prudent men of our acquaintance were freethinkers, and made very good husbands. And she knew some sensible girls that had skill enough to make converts of their spouses. ‘And who knows, my dear,’ continued she, ‘what Olivia may be able to do? The girl has a great deal to say upon every subject, and to my knowledge is very skilled in controversy.’ ‘Why, my dear, what controversy can she have read?’ cried I. ‘It does not occur to me that I have ever put such books into her hands; you certainly overrate her merit.’ ‘Indeed, papa,’ replied Olivia, ‘she does not. I have read a great deal of controversy. I have the disputes between Thwackum and Square, the controversy between Robinson Crusoe and Friday, the savage, and I am now employed in reading the controversy in ‘Religious Courtship.’’ ‘Very well,’ I cried I, ‘that’s a good girl; I find you are perfectly qualified for making converts, and so go help your mother to make the gooseberry-pie.’”
And the master added, “you shall have a piece on’t, mister, when it be enough.” I had wondered a hundred times in what book the above passage could be found. At length the discovery was made, and now the concluding portion of the 17th chapter, together with the verses—six of them—have passed through my mind, in the absence of something better, a great many times:—
“‘It was within about four days of her (Olivia’s) intended nuptials that my little family, at night, were gathered around a charming fire, telling stories of the past, and laying schemes for the future, busied in forming a thousand projects, and laughing at whatever folly came uppermost.’ ‘Well, Moses, my boy, we shall soon have a wedding in our family; what is your opinion of matters and things in general?’ ‘My opinion is, father, that all things go on very well, and I was just now thinking that when sister Livy is married to Farmer Williams, we shall then have the loan of his cider-press and brewing tubs for nothing.’ ‘That we shall, Moses,’ cried I, ‘and he will sing us ‘Death and the Lady’ to raise our spirits into the bargain.’ ‘He has taught that song to our Dick,’ cried Moses, ‘and I think he goes through it very prettily.’ ‘Does he so?’ cried I, ‘then let’s have it. Where is little Dick? Let him up with it boldly.’ ‘My brother Dick,’ cried Bill, my youngest, ‘is just gone out with sister Livy, but Mr. Williams has taught me two songs, and I’ll sing them for you, papa. Which song do you choose, ‘The Dying Swan,’ or ‘The Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog?’ ‘The elegy, child, by all means,’ said I. ‘I never heard that yet, and Deborah, my life, grief you know is dry; let us have a bottle of the best gooseberry wine to keep up our spirits. I have wept so much at all sorts of late that, without an enlivening glass, I am sure this would overcome me, and Sophy, love, take your guitar, and thrum in with the boy a little.”
This is then the sample of the taste of a master store the mind of a young scholar; but we must have the “Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog:”
THE ELEGY, ETC.
Good people all, of every sort, give ear unto my song,
And if you find it won’drous short, it cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man, of whom the world might say
That still a godly race he ran whene’er he went to pray.
A kind and gentle heart he had, to comfort friend and foe,
The naked every day he clad, when he put on his clothes;
And in that town a dog was found, as dogs there many be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, and curs of low degree.
This dog and man at first were friends, but when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends, went mad and bit the man;
Around, from all the neighbo’ring streets, the wond’ring neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits to bite so good a man.
The wound it seemed both sore and sad to every Christian eye,
And while they said the dog was mad, they said the man would die;
But soon a wonder came to light, that showed the rogues they lied,
The man recovered of the bite—the dog it was that died.
The master did not attempt to enlighten me. At the close of the elegy, he merely observed as approval, “Oh, the dog died, did he, mister?” But no doubt Oliver Goldsmith could see something underlying its surface, as there were then political dogs in Islington, whose virulent bites were very painful; surely also, are there to be found elsewhere in our day.
My neighbours were farmers on a small scale: they had a son to whom I was much attached. They kept several cows, and a horse named Depper. She was a useful creature, having carried me many miles. I could spend many half-days with Depper, instead of being at school, and I believe those in charge liked my company, so that the time passed away. I had often little jobs to perform for the old people which sometimes brought me a meal of good food; at other times a good farmer’s cake, which was always a luxury; and I had charge of the cows when they were fed in the lanes and roads. This brought a few pence to my parents, so much needed in those days of low wages—about eight or nine shillings per week when labourers made full time.
It would have been a curious sight in our day, as then, to see the old couple mounted upon Depper’s back, when they were going out to see friends. A light cart was a scarce article in those days with small occupiers (my neighbours had only a tumbril as a carriage); an appliance called a pillion was fastened upon the rump of the horse, and secured to the saddle, the greatest difficulty being to mount and dismount; but that difficulty was overcome.
I have not yet done with my old friend Benjamin; perhaps he did not trouble about my being absent for a week or two, if I did not return a bigger dunce. He usually had some of that class to try his patience. He appointed me many jobs, more to my mind than studying in the school. The town clock required to be wound up, the dial of which was at an elevation of about fifty feet, adorning the south side of the old tower, with its four neat pinnacles. I was appointed often to wind up the weights of that clock: the larger weight requiring the power of two boys, with a crank as large as a grindstone. Then, again, at funerals, the master would set me to toll the church bell, the rope being so fixed upon its tongue that an easy jerk would cause it to strike against the bell’s side, instructions being given that when the procession arrived, and at a signal from the master, ten strokes were to be given in quick succession, and then immediately to cease. Then, again, after the funeral service was over, the grave had to be filled in by willing hands, which was after a time accomplished, the implements being afterwards stowed away, and thus ended the school service of another day.
Four schoolboys were usually selected to convey the funeral bier to the late residence of the deceased, sometimes half-a-mile or more distant. Regardless of the solemnity of the occasion, we enjoyed the outing, and were not in a very great hurry to return to our studies; and perhaps the master did not trouble that we should, for I do not remember to have heard him express much sorrow or inconvenience respecting the absentees.
I continued to attend Benjamin’s school until I was about ten years of age; at that time my parents thought they would like me to attend the larger school, that my education might be forwarded thereby. I learnt the inscription on the fly-leaf of master’s book, which I had often read through. I could not remember the title. The lines were these:
Whose book I am, if you wish to know,
By letters two I will you show;
The first is B, to all men’s sight,
The next is C, to spell it right;
But if you chance to spell amiss,
Look underneath, and here it is:
Benjamin Chenery.
Farewell! to my first schoolmaster, and gooseberry-pie book.
It was not very long before a vacancy occurred in the larger school, and I was elected to fill up the gap. I felt somewhat timid, but that soon wore off. I was placed at a desk with others, and had soon to go in for sums in earnest. All had to be worked out on a slate, and, when passed as correct, had to be set down in a book. This was our morning work; afternoon we had Bible-reading in class, spelling, and afterwards writing with ink in copy book. There was a very patient usher of the name of George Bilney; but he was not there long after I joined the school. The discipline here was more stringent; each free scholar had to wear a badge of distinction, a school cap, to be worn every Sunday, and to be present at church, two seats being set apart for the boys of this school, under the supervision of the master and his usher; and all absentees had to give a satisfactory account on Monday mornings of the why’s and the wherefore’s, or feel the weight of the cane in the master’s hand, however distasteful it might be.
At this school I made progress; we were allowed to use “Walkingame’s Tutor’s Assistant;” a great deal could be learnt from this useful work. Said tables on Fridays, and also Church Catechism, with hard and difficult spelling at the close thereof, and the first three boys were rewarded with a ticket each. Often heavy tasks were awarded for disobedience, and, altogether, the general routine was one of forced vigilance, obedience, and activity, as no trifling was permitted during school hours.
After a few months my being in this school, Mr. Bilney, the usher left, and his place was subsequently filled by Mr. Benjamin Moulton, who afterwards followed the occupation of an auctioneer and valuer, at Woodbridge, in this county. I wrote to that gentleman in 1878, enquiring if he was the same B. M. whom I had previously known at Mr. Goodwin’s school. He returned an answer, thanking me for the enquiry, that he was the same; that he was now about seventy years of age; that his health was fair; and that there was at least one of the old scholars who had thought about him; but said, also, he never much liked the situation, so he did not much regret leaving the village and its associations.
I attended at this school about one year and a half. There were a better class of pupils (farmer’s sons) on the Opposition benches, who were instructed in the higher rudiments, such as land surveying, mapping, printing, English grammar. “English Reader,” “Introduction,” and “Speaker” were books not prohibited to the free boys, and, for one, I was very fond of reading them at every opportunity, for we had the range of the school from twelve o’clock till two, when all could play outside in fine weather very comfortably together, regardless of station in life, as two in the same school were my future young masters.
I continued to improve in the acquisition of knowledge, as there taught, from Multiplication of Integers to Money, and so on, as in subsequent rules; Division short and long, Reduction, Practice, and “Rule of Three,” all requiring close attention to bring a “Good” mark, implying the approval of the master or usher before any sum was allowed to be entered in the book, and even that was a tedious operation. There must be no mistakes, no blots, nor any smearing on the surface; when the master came round, the cane accompanied him, and sad woes were inflicted on the careless, which were not soon forgotten.
But it came to be desired that I should begin to work more closely, and earn my support, for most likely it was thought that a little help in that direction was, no doubt, very needful, and being a final decision, I left the school in that eventful year, 1820, and forthwith I soon found my destiny was “buckle to work.” I have said “eventful” year, in proof whereof here is an extract from the Evangelical Magazine of that year:—“George III. died at Windsor Castle, on the 29th January, 1820 in his 82nd year. His son, the Duke of Kent, expired a few days previous, at Sidmouth, in Devonshire, in the 53rd year of his age, leaving an infant daughter—our good and virtuous Queen.” Long may she reign.
The way is now apparently open for the Prince Regent to occupy the throne, but the perplexing domestic troubles occupied the lawyers and barristers more than twelve months ere the ground could be anything like cleared; but the road in which I was destined to travel was not so mystified. A master was found for me, in the person of Mr. Simon Smyth, of Ubbeston, farmer. I was employed in hoeing, weeding corn, picking grass, and such-like jobs. I was there ten weeks, or about half that summer, and more happy was I than the Prince Regent. My next master was Mr. Robert Scace, of Laxfield, farmer, and was employed, first keeping sheep, then working in the hay field, and other odd jobs which might present themselves to my notice. I got on nicely with Mr. Scace, and after the hay season was told that I might continue on, and board in the house during the harvest, and have the same amount of money weekly. I was glad to hear that, and never found it a source of regret to anyone. Those were cheerful seasons to both men and boys, and for my own part I felt that I was advanced to a post of honour when entrusted with the commands of a horse or two, and was no longer compelled to go about the fields gleaning, which occupation I so much disliked. There was but one son in this family, but he had to work in harvest-time, and bend down with the sickle, as with that instrument the wheat-crop was reaped in those days, and it was my lot to assist Master Robert, when he sought a little rest. He was a little older than myself, being born in 1806. He lived near my parents’ dwelling, and I was often allowed to play with him before we began to work. His was but a short course. I have since read in Laxfield Churchyard, near the porch, upon a stone, this inscription:
Robert Bullock Scace,
Born September 17th, 1806;
Died March 30th, 1853.
How quickly the four dozen years passed away!
The joyful harvest being completed, it was arranged that I should be further detained to keep pigs and other stock in the fields from off which the corn had been taken. This employment I was engaged in for several weeks, being always supplied with a good dinner on each Sunday, sent to the field from the farmer’s table, which was very much enjoyed and welcomed, these and such-like comforts which came to me on the Day of Rest.
I know not how long I might have continued here, but Michaelmas drew on, and it was agreed that I should go into service, at a farm-house in the parish. This did not give to me at first a very favourable impression, but undoubtedly it was the right way into a “city of habitation.” Thenceforth, on the 11th day of October, 1820. I was received into the family of Mr. John Garrard, of Laxfield, to be trained and disciplined as a veritable farmer’s boy, and held myself ready to obey any instructions and orders that might be presented. My training commenced, I did not at all dislike my new acquaintances, and after a few days felt quite at home in my new position. There was plenty of work, plenty of food, and a goodly supply of company.
The family consisted of the master, mistress, four sons, and five daughters. There were also a man-servant, a maid servant, and myself. Later on there came into the family a nephew, who was called Jonathan, and frequently the master called him “Jonter.” His father was brother to the master, and having died April 22nd, 1811, aged 29 years, left him and a sister to the frowns of an ungodly world, as also to the care of their mother, who removed from Laxfield, to a place called Hartley Row, in the county of Hants, there to revive old associations or to form new ones, and in those engagements it did seem Jonathan could be spared from his mother, then being about sixteen years of age when he came to live with his uncle.
As regards myself, my business was to do what every one of the others left undone, and bear the blame for all; but was so far favoured, there was a standing rule that no stripes were to be administered but by the hands of the master, so that, on the whole, amongst bulls and cows, pigs and sows, children and chickens, and other bipeds, and quadrupeds, I was not very lonely, and sometimes felt, after having to endure some pain and privation, occasioned by the terrible sharp wintry storms that prevailed, I could go on my way rejoicing.
Things went on, as far as I could observe, pretty easy. The establishment was a hive of industry; all that were able must work, and good it was for us to be superintended by a good and careful master and mistress. About this time, the eldest son, John, was married, and left us. The second son, George, was bound apprentice to Mr. Kent, of Beetles, a brazier and tin-plate worker. The maid-servant was discharged at the next coming Michaelmas, and I had to learn to milk the cows, and carry the milk into the dairy, and empty it into the places assigned for its reception. Two of the daughters, Emma and Caroline, were now requested to assist their mother in the duties of the house, while the three youngest daughters and youngest son, Jesse, were continued at school, so being prepared to occupy the vacant places when the elder ones left.
But we must have a word or two respecting the new king, George IV. He had been so proclaimed in London and the provinces, but by reason of unhappy differences subsisting between the king and his royal consort, a fixed aversion and a formal separation had taken place. He had ordered her name to be struck off the Liturgy when Princess of Wales!
It was said she had raised a favourite Italian, in her employ, from an humble station, to one of honour; had instituted a new order of knighthood called the Order of St. Caroline; had decorated this person with the insignia of that order, and had in other respects acted in a manner unbecoming a British princess, which brought upon her the continued displeasure of the king. He ordered evidence to be taken against her, and it was determined she should be brought to trial by the peers of the realm. This trial, which lasted fifty-three days, being ended, violent debates took place in the House of Lords on the principle of the Bill, and the proposed measure of depriving the queen, of her title, prerogatives, rights, and privileges, formally abandoned. This was hailed as a complete acquittal by her friends, and was celebrated as such by public rejoicings and illuminations, reaching my parish.
But the King’s anger was not appeased. The 19th day of July, 1821, was the day fixed for the coronation service. It was said to have been a magnificent ceremony, surpassing anything that had ever occurred on former occasions. But the queen, who had repeatedly applied to have a place appointed for her to see the ceremony, on going to the Abbey was refused admittance by the door-keepers, they not daring to let anyone pass who had not a coronation ticket. Thus mortified and humbled, she returned to her house, and the impression it made on her mind was never eradicated. Harassed by severe and bitter trials, she was seized with a sudden illness, which baffled the skill of her physicians, and on the 7th August she breathed her last, being in the fifty-fourth year of her age, her body being conveyed to Brunswick, and deposited in the vault of her ancestors.
But, perhaps, the narration of those circumstances would seem to be a digression, yet they are to my mind full of interest, and so closely interwoven among my early associations that I cannot easily pass over them. I well remember the exhibition which took place in my native village. On one of the large painted pictures was displayed a figure of the queen in her robes, and beneath was the brilliant motto,
“Regina” still, in spite of them,
Here then we rest. The universal cause
Acts to one end, but acts by various laws;
Let this great truth be present night and day,
But most be present if we preach or pray.
Pope’s Essay on Man.
There was nearly as much for me to do on a Sunday, during the winter season, as on other days; the cattle must be fed; turnips within, and straw without, must be placed ready for the cows to eat, and the fat pigs were to be attended to, of which there was a good number, but sometimes I had an opportunity of going to chapel, on an afternoon, when my work was forward; and there were reading services in the family on Sunday evenings, implying there was a desire to serve and obey the true and living God.
Thus much for a beginning. I soon learned to drive the tumbril, the harrow, the roller, and the wagon, and was, perhaps, nearly as useful as was expected to be; and on one occasion the master made me draw a furrow across a field with a pair of horses, he following, and pronounced himself satisfied with the result.
During my sojourn here, I was several times mercifully preserved from death. On one occasion I was driving a loaded tumbril from the yard, where it was filled, to the manure heap, about a quarter-of-a mile on the road, and then on to the meadow. A horse which I was using, a wild young creature, annoyed by the flies, started off as soon as I got upon his back. I was quite powerless, and lost all control over him. He went at full gallop straight home, and though a cart shed, that was standing by the road-side, having beams across, and so constructed that there was little height more than was required for an empty wagon. I pressed my head down as low as I could, and the interposing mercy of my God preserved me, or I should have been dashed to pieces. The horse ran quite through, and then stopped as if by magic. The men came out of the yard, seeing the danger, and expected to have seen me killed, or seriously injured; but neither myself nor the horse suffered any harm. I did not think much about it at the time, but I have many times looked back with a thankful heart.—“Thou shalt remember all the way the Lord thy God hath led thee.”
Another instance of great danger I will relate. One summer’s morning, being ordered to fetch the cows from the meadow, amongst them being a furious bull, I found on my arrival that one of the cows had calved during the night, close to which the dangerous male had taken up a position. I hastened home with the rest, and told the master what I had seen. It was considered that if I had attempted to drive him he might have killed me. The master directed me to take the barrow, and he would go with me to the meadow, and take with him a hay-fork. We went and found them as I have stated, and no sooner had I placed the barrow near the bull than the infuriated creature at once drove at me, and knocked me down, but the master beat him off, and I was thus preserved from further danger at that time, and escaped unharmed.
At another time, later on, the same beast attacked me in the cow-yard, drove me against the faggots, and had got me completely in his power. My peril was witnessed by Josh Miles, who was thrashing in a barn. He came with his flail—a very formidable instrument—and the beast fled immediately, and leaped over a high gate like a hunting horse, and then looked about him for the next point of attack. These, then, are some of the deliverances extended unto me by the great and unceasing favour of my God, for the which I desire to be devoutly thankful.
I am unable to enumerate all the dangers from which I have been providentially delivered. That same horse which ran away with me kicked me afterwards in the side, but my hand caught the blow, and thus warded off serious injury. I was accustomed to have one-footed kicks from the cows, but found the horse struck out with more effect. Another peril was: As myself and one of my young masters (Suffolk) were scarifying a pea-stubble field we had two horses at length, and took turns, one to ride on the scarifier, and the other to drive the horses. We were going on very cheerful and comfortable, when, suddenly, something distasted the fore horse, and it came round to where I was sitting, and was entangled among the counters with the horse’s feet. In the fright and the danger we had some little difficulty to extricate the poor horse, but we did accomplish it. I escaped with a few slight scratches on my hands and legs, and what was better the horse was not much hurt, so that ultimately we were able to accomplish our work, and to give an account of our mishap to the master, without incurring much blame. Here, again, I feel good cause for thankfulness that I was so mercifully preserved, so that—
“I muse on the years that are past,
Wherein my defence Thou hast proved,
Nor wilt Thou relinquish at last
A sinner so signally lov’d.”—Toplady.
I might here be permitted to state my master, Mr. Garrard, at this time, occupied a small farm in the parish of Stradbroke, distant about three miles, to which myself and others were often sent, to do different kinds of work, such as putting in the corn with the drill, sometimes getting in a good lot of turnips, at other times getting up the hay and the corn in harvest, when we had a wagon to be conveyed through the pleasant journey. Adjoining our farm was one occupied by Mr. William Davey, and he also kept a lad a year or two older than myself. He felt himself sometimes aggrieved, because he had so much to do in waiting upon his young masters, so he thought he would cut the matter short, and, being sorely irritated, he got up early one morning (oh! most dreadful act) and set fire to the straw in the barn, which burnt and consumed the whole premises, except the dwelling-house—an alarming conflagration; I saw it blazing. He was taken upon suspicion, tried, and found guilty, and sentenced to be executed, which sentence was carried into effect at Ipswich, on the 20th April, 1822. A terrible example to all young men was the death of William Aldous, late of Stradbroke.
Having passed through the various degrees of training incident to a farming establishment, including the diversified labours of the season of harvest, for my master boarded his men, and in some instances lodged them as well; and the harvests were in those days somewhat cheerful and happy seasons. “Crowned with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,” the ingathering was equal to the demand of the coming winter, however severe and rigid that season might be.
My master usually kept a man at his off-farm, but during my last two years of service with him he placed me in that position. The farm-house was occupied by Samuel Tovell and John Pulham. I lodged with the former, and fetched my food from master’s house, being allowed to take a horse, of which I had two under my care, as also several bullocks and pigs. I used to go to master’s house, and have Sunday dinner, and one evening during the week regularly.
I received no money for my work, my remuneration was board, lodging, washing, and clothes. My master trusted to me to obey his orders, spoke well of me, and I was encouraged by the designation of steward. I was promised that, if I was willing, I should be put to a business, which would be better than being at a farm-house. As time rolled on, a neighbouring farmer, a friend of my master (Mr. Lenny), removed from out of the parish to Worlingham, and that gentleman was requested to look out for something for me. He was successful, and it was arranged that I should be placed under the care of Mr. George Sutton, a shoemaker, of that parish.
My parents consented, and arrangements being completed, I was told to prepare for my new destination. Accordingly, I bade farewell to my old neighbours and friends at Stradbroke and Laxfield, and in the month of May, 1825, I started with George Pead, the carrier, to Halesworth, to meet my new master, and thence to continue my journey to Worlingham, my future residence.
The day was fine, the country looking cheerful after the storms of winter, and our journey was accomplished in due course safely. I had now time to look around and reflect on my change. I did not feel very joyful at my new prospects; I felt that I was a “stranger in a strange land;” I thought of old associations, and that did not add to my comfort. However, amidst many discouragements, I thought that if I could learn my business, I could settle down in after life, and be able to obtain employment, and support those who might be in some measure dependent on me.
My master was held to be a good tradesman, and appeared to have a good run of trade; but I soon found he indulged in habits of drinking to excess. There was no veneration for the Sabbath, and consequently no reverence for God’s commands. He also indulged in profane conversation, such as I had not hitherto been accustomed to; but I prayed for him.
My mistress was a tender-hearted, godly, pious woman, and would often speak kindly to me when master was harsh, so that my sorrows were not greatly multiplied. Mr. Lenny came to see me at my new place (I had known that gentleman when he resided at Laxfield); he harassed my feelings; brought before my mind old associations, from whom I was severed. I felt completely broken down. I have no doubt that was the end he had in view. He afterwards tendered a few healing words of sympathy and kindness, and said that he would write to Laxfield, and let my friends there know how I was getting on, and that, if I continued with my master, and was obliging, he would give me a Christmas-box. After hearing these and other promises, I resigned myself to my new situation, and felt that I would do my best, and try to learn to work.
After having been there a month, it was arranged that I should be bound, Mr. L. being sponsor. An indenture was prepared, and my own consent, and that of my parents, being obtained, I was bound as an indoor apprentice, to learn the art and mystery of a bootmaker, for the space of four years, thirty-one weeks, and four days.
This seemed a long time to look forward, but I was beginning to feel more reconciled. I visited the customers with the master; had a good share of jobs to attend to, as well as errands, the diversity of waiting upon the master, the mistress, the children, the cow, the pony, and the pigs, and my odd hours were to be spent in the work shop, in learning to stitch pieces of leather together.
This latter was, to say the least of it, a tedious operation; I suffered pain in my neck and back, but I had a fair amount of relaxation, and during the whole of that summer I was not bound down very closely to the trade, and had become somewhat acquainted with the young people of that locality, by which I was cheered.
One of my acquaintances was a young man, apprenticed to William Pidgeon, named John Scarlett. That young man was a vessel of mercy, soon to be gathered home to the heavenly garner. He was my guide, philosopher, and friend. “We took sweet counsel together, and walked to the House of God” in company. He sought, and obtained, instruction from the best source, and in turn I myself received much valuable instruction from him.
The first Christmas arrived. During my apprenticeship I was permitted to go to Laxfield, and see my parents. I had not forgotten the promise as to the Christmas-box, so I called on Mr. Lenny, and reminded him of what I had not forgotten at this happy season. I was invited to sit down to table with his people, and have a bowl of good firmity. While I was enjoying the comfortable meal, Mr. L. came into the room, and asked me if I thought I could ride a pony to Laxfield. I was happy to answer in the affirmative. Orders were given, the pony was brought out, and doubly glad was I to go and see my parents, and also to be furnished with a horse to ride; but I was to leave it with Mr. Alling, the gentleman who had been successful in preserving my eyesight, as before stated.
I delivered up my charge, with a letter of instructions from the sender. I knew that Mr. Lenny’s eldest son was living with Mr. Alling, and most likely the pony was for his son’s use. However, I had performed my engagement safely. My short Christmas holiday soon came to an end, and, taking leave of my parents, I was now, for the first time, on foot, to measure the whole length of that dreary road that intervened between the past and the future—the past I was somewhat acquainted with, but as to the future, I wondered and pondered, and sped my way onward, sometimes with tardy steps and a heavy heart, but during the evening of that short winter’s day I arrived home.
I was under a promise to write to my parents, and inform them if I was once more safe at home. The postage was high at that time, being eightpence for each letter. We had not as yet felt the benefit of Rowland Hill’s cheap postage, although we had the benefit of “Rowland Hill’s Village Dialogues”—these are good and profitable.
I passed through my first winter pretty comfortable, now and then being sent out with the pony, and sometimes with the cart, which pleased me very well, as I so enjoyed a trip.
One morning I was called up rather early to fetch some milk for the family, for the cow was not always in profit. As soon as I had put on my boots, and had opened the door, I fell down perfectly insensible and unconscious. My master and mistress were on the room above. They thought I was gone out, but when they found I was not, they soon came to see. They were greatly alarmed thinking it might occur frequently; and I thought how easily my Father and my God could have removed me from this troublesome world. But thanks to His great goodness and mercy, I never remember to have had a recurrence of that solemn visitation. It brought me to consider my state by nature, as a sinner before God; and I expressed gratitude and thankfulness that my life was still preserved.
Thenceforth, I resolved to seek the Lord, feeling that it was my bounden duty to serve Him, and I prayed for direction in this important matter. My young friend, Scarlett, of whom I have spoken, was permitted to attend the Wesleyan Chapel, at North Cove, and myself was also allowed to join him, and we felt it a privilege to listen to the truths as there taught. We felt that the Most High was the Father of Mercies, imparted to us, his creatures, through the atonement of Christ for the remission of sins. My friend’s views were Calvanistic; mine were not so, and we were prompted and exhorted to search the Scriptures. We did search, comparing spiritual things with spiritual help from above.
About this time, one of the members of the chapel (Mrs. Keer), of Mutford, was removed by death, and a funeral sermon was preached in North Cove Chapel, from the words: “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.” We had then placed before us the characteristics of a christian, or a believer, seeking salvation through the merits of the Great Redeemer, and as obedient children looking and praying and watching to the end of our course, amidst the temptations and impediments that bestrew our pathway here below. These timely observations and other christian duties were insisted on by Mr. Gibson, the good minister, the burden of which we treasured up in our young minds, and in the case of my friend I have no doubt produced good fruit unto eternal life, for his was destined to be but a short journey to the Celestial City.
Mr. Pidgeon kept a cow, as did my master, and we sometimes had to drive them to marsh in the summer season—about a mile. We almost always had to go on Sundays, and then we could talk over our religious impressions and other matters. As he had a pious mother, who prayed for him, consequently he was a beloved partaker of the benefit, and he did appreciate it as a brother beloved, elected of God.
’Tis well with the righteous, God views them as such,
They go to their Father, and can’t ask too much;
In Christ, they are righteous, and who dare bring a charge?
The blood of atonement hath signed their discharge.
One Sunday morning, having gone down with our masters’ cows, and placed them at their food, we had a little leisure to think, and to talk over the goodness of God to us, his creatures. Coming to an alder tree, fresh and green, my companion stopped, and—taking off his cap said: “Here we must have a little bit of prayer.” Those were the words. I was taken somewhat by surprise. We both knelt—the grass was our carpet; John led off in earnest, solemn, heartfelt prayer, possessing the true spirit of devotion—heard, and witnessed, and accepted in the heavenly courts above, indicating an earnest of the promised possession of the heavenly inheritance. I feel something of the rekindling of God’s love while I am recording this interesting incident. When he had concluded I felt also prompted to make the attempt, in compliance with his request, but my sentences were feeble and broken, the very first that were ever heard in prayer by a fellow-creature.
We often resorted thither for prayer subsequently, and often felt it to be a time of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. Once, on a Beccles horse-racing occasion, we repaired thither, and prayed for the giddy multitude, as also for our friends and acquaintances. There was another young man, James Taylor, whom we wished to draw into our company; but, he being a servant, soon changed his master, and went beyond our reach. He is also gone to rest, having died at Lowestoft about 1860.
I attended to the commands of my master and mistress; was fairly fed; and my duties were not very stringent. I was not bound down so closely on the shop seat, but had plenty of outing, and oftentimes worked very late at night, so that we might forward our work, and accomplish the orders by the end of the week, although there was often too much to be done on a Sunday. My master oft indulged himself in such company as are to be found in public-houses, even on the Sabbath. There were in those days no restrictions as to the hours. The houses were kept open all day long, and sometimes he would take me with him, if there was not anything to take me in any other direction. On one occasion he stayed at the “Bell,” at Beccles, a long time, and being unwilling to part with the company he sent me on to Gillingham, two miles further. He had a customer who lived through Gillingham Toll-gale; thither I was to go to transact business, and then return. On my return, he was not ready to go home with me, but said he would be soon. After waiting till I was tired, I set off to go home to Worlingham. The mistress, knowing I had gone out with the master, insisted upon knowing where I had left him; I stated the truth. She felt uncomfortable, and said she would go and fetch him home. I said that it would not be advisable; that there were drunken people, who would laugh to see her sorrows multiplied; and that, perhaps, she would bear words by which she would be more grieved. She did not go, and for years after she appreciated the advice it was my happiness to tender on that occasion.
I made progress in my trade; the time—4 years, 31 weeks, and 4 days were being reduced, for time flies. My master’s father occupied a small farm in the same parish. Master and I used often to go and help him in busy seasons, such as hay and harvest seasons. I was also allowed to help master’s customers a few days during the harvest, being always supplied with good harvest food; sometimes the strong ale would make me stagger; and, although I had to work harder, somehow I always felt delighted with the change.
We had only one service at the parish church each Sunday, that being one reason why I was permitted to attend chapel, and sometimes my friend John and I were allowed to go to the Primitive Chapel, at Beccles. This was during the early ministry of Robert Key; and sometimes we were privileged to listen to that good man, and were instructed and comforted thereby, admiring his plain and easy style of preaching, the gospel of truth and love, through the atonement and satisfaction of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the infinite importance of being saved from wrath through Him. The good Lord crowned this man’s efforts with abundant success, and he became a “burning and a shining light.”
My master was a kind of sportsman; he kept a gun, also a dog, and occasionally used them. We were friendly with the gamekeeper, and as we did not annoy or pursue the game, no notice was taken of the master. I say “we,” for I was allowed to use the gun, and shoot as many wood-pigeons as I could during the winter seasons, for we could not work much at the trade during the sharp weather. The family increased—a third son was born named Robert; in process of time a fourth named Samuel. Master built a workshop, for the cottage was becoming too small. He suggested that I should lodge in the new building. I preferred staying in the old quarters, and ultimately was permitted to do so to the end of my engagement.
I had often to go very long journeys on Sunday mornings—especially those Sundays when there was no service at church—to Ellough, to Hulver, to Henstead, to Mutford, and sometimes through Beccles to Gillingham, and on one occasion I went with master to Bungay on business. In this and many other ways the Sabbath was greatly desecrated, while the world with its fascinations and alurements obtained faithful service.
About this time a very tragical affair occurred in our parish. My friend’s master was on his way home from Beccles, one Saturday night, very late, when, before he arrived at his house, he was attacked by a ruffian, beaten about the head, and almost killed. It was said he would have been quite murdered, but he had a very thick hairy head—something like a negro’s—by reason thereof the blows did not take fatal effect.
He managed to reach home, and they naturally were greatly alarmed at his condition. My friend was called up, and sent to Beccles for the doctor. He had to go past where the murderous attack had been committed, the ground being still moist with blood. Coming to the place, he told me, he came upon his master’s hat, and having placed it over into Worlingham Park till his return, went forward again unmolested. Arriving at the town, by Fair Close, when near the Prison, there was a gate and a style, he said he knelt down, and prayed that the Lord would be merciful to his master, and heal him, and spare him a little longer. This was, perhaps, the first prayer offered in Beccles on that Sunday morning—it was past midnight. When his poor injured master arrived at his home that prayer was heard and answered, for by assiduous and skilful treatment, poor William Pidgeon’s life was preserved some twenty years longer. A reward £100 was offered by the Government, upon proof of the offence being established against the perpetrator, but it was not discovered until the poor conscience stricken miserable wretch confessed to it upon his dying bed. This was the outcome of the burden of a guilty conscience.
During all my servitude hitherto I had but a small amount of pocket money; but in my last year, 1829, after earning a certain sum for master weekly, I was allowed the surplus, and, another coming in to take some of the out-door turns, I could sit and work at the trade more closely, and with more energy, and this also proved an advantage to the master, as well as to myself: thus our interests were to a certain extent mutual, although when a mistake happened, as it sometimes did, then it would assuredly be religion that was most ridiculed, of the which poor master could not discover there was any necessity, although admonished by repeated warnings that our days are as a vapour which soon vanisheth away.
I was now becoming more and more acquainted with the trade of country boot-making, and was considered, as an apprentice, a very decent hand, considering I was learning in a village. I liked my trade tolerably well, and was, perhaps, on the whole, fairly obliging, amongst the wax, the thread, the leather, and the nails, and all other concomitants incident to a boot-making establishment, to which I had, by this time, become almost naturalised, and felt quite at home as a few extra pence came into my pocket, for although I had permission to go to Beccles to fairs and races, and such like amusements, yet I did not often prefer to accept those seeming favours—those gilded baubles, which perish with the using. My friend would say, “Let us go for our cows an hour sooner, then we can kneel down and pray for the giddy, noisy multitude,” many of whom were slaves to sin and Satan, fast bound in the snare, from which nothing short of a divine power can extricate—
So sad our state by nature is,
Our sin how deep its stains,
And Satan binds our willing souls
Fast in his slavish chains.
One very warm summer day, we (that is, myself, master, and his father) were after the hay, on the bank of the Waveney, and I told them I should like to have a bathe. They cautioned me to be careful I was not drowned. I repeated that I should make the attempt, but they tried to dissuade me. I told them to “Look out!” and I went over and back easily and safety—preserved and supported by an Omnipotent Almighty hand, when many have been permitted to sink in the stream, and are lost! lost! lost! for ever. This is the manner in which my giddy steps were preserved, and my youthful career safely and lovingly onward led, and I was permitted to see the “bright light in the cloud.”
I will now state that my apprenticeship closed on the 31st of December, in the year above-mentioned. It began on the 24th of May, 1825. Having agreed with my master to work for him for a time, I commenced to work as journeyman. After having visited a few of my old friends, I took lodgings near with a couple of aged people named Whyatt, where I was very comfortable. Their youngest son had been apprenticed to Mr. Pidgeon, my friend John having left, or was about leaving his master, and very soon after was summoned to bid adieu to all earthly things, and to enter into his everlasting rest, into which the writer desires to be found, waiting and watching, even unto the end of his course.
I started in housekeeping—bought good bread at Jones’s, of Beccles, and good meat at Crickmoy’s, near the “Red Lion Inn,” and other necessaries were easily obtainable, so that I got on during the first winter fairly well, but had not much money to spare, for perhaps I could have done more work if I had had more alloted to me, but was thankful that the prospect was encouraging. I worked and sung, walked to my lodgings and enjoyed my coffee and my rest. I did not book myself at this station only for a short time; the other apprentice, James Smith, was becoming useful, and as the winter passed away, the work in summer did not come in so briskly.
During the summer of this year, 1830, the reign of George IV. came to an end, a short reign, but many troubles, and the national mind manifested no expression of regret on the demise of this self-indulgent and passion-gratifying monarch, while that of his predecessor was said to be just, pious, temperate, and beneficent; every domestic and social grace adorned his character—the ruler and the ornament of a powerful and wealthy empire.
William Henry succeeded to the throne under the title of William IV.
As it happened, the people at Worlingham, with whom I lodged had a son, who had just taken a business in the parish of St. Lawrence, near Bungay, an agricultural district. This man, wanting another hand, I was engaged to go there to work for him, for a time: but the poor master was not very successful. His wife was afflicted with violent epileptic fits. I continued with him about a year, and we had a good run of work, but adverse circumstances bore him down, and in a short time after he left his suffering wife in the care of her parents, sold his effects, and emigrated to America, and I heard but little more of George Whyatt. As to myself, I was glad to leave the neighbourhood, for gross darkness seemed to have covered the minds of the people, being “led captive by the adversary at his will,” from whose power they were not easily delivered, except by divine interposition. The “Royal Oak” was the place of meeting on Sundays. There were then no prohibited hours. Those, who appeared to be of the better class, did not scruple to spend the best part of the Sabbath at the tavern—sad waste of life and time.
From this place, I thought I should like to obtain work at Laxfield, my native village. My parents were still there, and I tried, but did not succeed. There was no open door, and the right way was more eastward and I once more tented my steps to Worlingham, and perhaps felt more happy than I had been for some time. Being accepted at my former lodgings, I worked sometimes for my late master, and sometimes for his father, and had the free use of my hands and feet, and withal felt the privilege of breathing in a more salubrious atmosphere, the comfort of which I felt to be of considerable value, as my aim was not to be conformed to the world. I could attend the services of the church, and also the services of the Wesleyan Methodist Chapel, where I found much spiritual instruction, although, by the way, I did not endorse all their sentiments. My views were becoming Calvanistic, which were strengthened when I occasionally heard Mr. George Wright, Baptist Minister, of Beccles, and Mr. Sloper, of the Congregational Chapel of that town, both of whom are departed hence, and have entered into their rest to be for ever with the Lord, while it is my privilege to follow, although at an humble distance, amid the perplexing and diversified vicissitudes to which poor fallen man is subject in this time state, and having no settled and permanent repose, is continually reminded that the true and substantial rest is at the end of his journey, if sought after according to the instructions contained in God’s Holy Word.
About this time I thought as I had no one but myself, I would try gentleman’s service, not that I had any particular wish to leave Worlingham, but on the whole I thought I might better my condition, so agreed to go into the service of Edmund Skepper, Esq., Maltster, at Oulton, in the capacity of a groom and gardener. The family here consisted of master, mistress, widowed daughter, and grand daughter, two female servants, myself, and a lad living out to attend to cows, fowls, pigs, &c.
The family professed to serve the Lord, the house-hold were summoned to morning devotion before breakfast: a short piece being read and prayer offered; also evenings before retiring to rest, bible reading and prayer: sermon and prayer on Sunday evenings.
The services at the parish church were held alternately morning and afternoon, the other part we generally attended the church at Lowestoft, where we heard good Mr. Cunningham, or his curate, Mr. Hankinson, or Mr. Hawtry, of Pakefield; there was also a religious service held at a cottage near, conducted by Mr. Skepper, jun., who resided near with his family. At times I was permitted to attend those evening services, but that gentleman was not permitted to stay here but 42 years, he was attacked with violent typus fever during the summer of 1837, and was carried off after a short illness, leaving a widow with four sons and two daughters to mourn their loss. I wrote a few verses on the occasion of his funeral, this is a specimen.
Oh messenger, how keen thy blow,
Our worthy friend thou hast laid low:
Yet we rejoice our reason’s just,
In Jesus’ blood he placed his trust.
I did not reside with this gentleman’s father at the time of his death, he having died the previous year, 1836, the mother having died in 1835. How quickly we are gone!
I must beg to make a retrograde movement here, and go back to the duties devolving on me as gardener: the winter rolled on and spring approached, preparations were needed, there was in the garden a forcing pit, such an one I had never before seen, I sought and obtained the advice and assistance of Richard Sturman, he directed me how to proceed; acting under his advice we had a satisfactory supply of cucumbers, melons, and other garden produce.
The elder Mr. Skepper greatly admired the colony of rooks that assembled during the early spring, and when their young ones were about leaving, he used to being out his air gun and bring down the black family with great precision, my duty on those occasions was to perform the office of armour bearer, and to pump the air into the empty tube while the other was being expended; it was rather a hard job but did not last many hours at a time, and then only in fine weather. I had also to grind and deliver out small quantities of malt (not less then a peck), to the workpeople and others, the grinding was performed by a handmill, but when any extra quantity was required, I had the assistance of the lad John Adams, who was always at hand, and willing to lend a helping hand in any emergency, although often irritated by there petition of the noisy bell, which generally stood very handy to summon the out-of-door satellites.
I usually drove master out two or three times a week, sometimes to Lowestoft, or Beccles, or Yarmouth, or other places, calling upon farmers and others in the way of trade. God, in his goodness, so preserved us that we never met with any accident, although late at night getting home. Their daughter, Mrs. Clarke, had a pony and chaise for the private use of herself and daughter. I did not drive them except on Sunday to Church, to Lowestoft or Pakefield, as they felt inclined.
In the month of July of the first year I was living with this family, I lost my dear father by death, he being only 59 years off age—1833. My mother was left to sorrow for his departure, and to work her way through the various trials which bestrewed her path, supported by a watchful, kind, overruling Providence, many years.
Favoured with an excellent state of health, I did not at all regret leaving the shoe trade for a time, and perhaps this healthful employment may have been the means of lengthening out my life, under the divine favour who has guarded my steps in all my journey hitherto, and will continue to do so unto the end of my course.
Mr. Charles Fisher was rector of Oulton at this time, having been appointed in 1829. He was greatly afflicted, and had a curate, Mr. Richard Pearson, to perform the duties in the parish. I forbear to insert the prefix which clergymen of the Church of England, and many Dissenting ministers also use, because I think the appellation belongs to God rather than to His creatures, however pure and holy their office or character. Whenever I hear it spoken as applied to a creature, it grates harshly on my ear, but it may be consistent nevertheless.
I had often an opportunity of conversing with John Adams, the elder (a working maltster on the establishment), and his good wife, both members of a Christian church, who were seeking to walk in the ways of the Lord. I also felt a longing desire to follow in their steps, as they were following Christ, our Great Redeemer, the infinite freeness, and the unspeakable preciousness of his electing love. Why were any chosen, when all might justly have been passed by? Because he was resolved, for His own name’s sake, to make known the riches of His glory on the vessels of mercy, whom He therefore prepared unto grace and glory.
Thus, then, the summer of 1833 passed away. The garden crops had been very fair, and the orchard crops were abundant. I revelled among the apples, plums, pears and walnuts, day after day, when the weather was suitable. In process of time, they were stored, as a supply for the family during the approaching winter, and, moreover, I engaged to remain with the family another year.
The storage of potatoes now commenced. A large space had been planted, and now they must be gathered in. Happily, there were no traces of that fearful blight, which have been so prevalent in these latter years, and which we trust will speedily be removed by the interposition of a kind and merciful God, who assuredly doeth all things well, as the preservation of our lives and health abundantly testify, rejoicing our hearts as we are permitted to gather in the superabundant blessings bestowed by the Fatherly hand of the Giver of all good.
The spring succeeded; the ground required preparation, and for crops to be got in no time must now be lost, and, with the assistance of a man now and again, to do some of the heavy digging, and by perseverance, favoured with a continuation of health, and other blessings, I felt that the onward course was somewhat cheerful, rejoicing in the notes of the peacock, the cuckoo, the nightingale, and others of the feathered throng by which we were surrounded.
It was in this place that I first saw my future wife. She had come into the same service as housemaid, and Mary Ann Newson (the future wife of George Anguish) as cook and dairymaid. Very industrious servants they were, considering Oulton Hall was not the best constructed residence. There was a flight of stairs from the kitchen, but they led to the mistress and master’s room. I was only permitted to pass through that room by special license, at other times having to pass through the parlour on my way to a corridor which led to my bedroom: the family had not then retired to rest. We had reading and prayers at half past eight o’clock, then I had to go out and see if all was right, and pass quietly to bed at nine. There was always plenty of work requiring to be done—horses and chaises to be attended to, going out when ordered, gravel and grass in front to keep in order, crops in garden to keep up in succession, weeds to keep down, walks to keep neat, fruit to protect from a hundred and one enemies, against some of which I had to wage war, and make their destruction sure, no longer to cause any annoyance.
The season of summer quickly passed away, and the 11th of October, 1834, arrived, when my agreement expired, as also did the female servants’, and new situations were now sought. For myself, I thought I would turn my attention to the boot line, at Lowestoft, but soon found my work would not pass, as being not altogether suitable for town inspection, consequently, I agreed with Mr. R. Winyard, a practical bootmaker, of the High-street, to club myself to him for one year, he to find me all the work I could fairly do, and himself to instruct me in the art, where he saw my knowledge defective. My future wife (Hannah Cox) obtained a situation as housemaid in the family of E. Norton, Esq., solicitor, London Road.
There had been two young men, just before, in the service of Mr. Winyard, who had sickened and died. This was rather a singular, as also a discouraging circumstance, yet I thought if the good Lord was pleased to continue unto me good health, I would try to do my best, so that I should be able in future to obtain employment. I soon found my work had to pass through a different process to what I had been accustomed. The master was patient, and set before me what he considered correct lines, in preference to those which I had acquired in the country, for although he had served his apprenticeship in the country at the time I was serving, but not with the same master, yet, after his time expired, he worked in large manufacturing towns, such as Norwich, Northampton, Cambridge, and Bedford, from which latter place he brought his wife, and settled down in Lowestoft, and obtained a good fair share of the work of that town.
As to myself, my means were rather limited. I found I must adhere to economy. I lodged in the master’s house, so that when business was urgent, I could rise early and attend to it, and had not to wait for anyone to let me in. This was rather an advantage, which was duly appreciated, whether in winter or summer. Our principal work was Wellington boots and Bluchers. I came in for a good share of this work, as there was also a man from Norwich, who done the women’s work, and there was likewise a good share of blocking done by me. That was a process I had not witnessed during my apprenticeship. It was to strain the fronts of Wellingtons and other boots, so that they might fit and set close upon the instep, clean and even, that the boot might be comfortable and smart when it was worn.
There was another bootmaker on the opposite side of the street, and there he exhibited a show boot. The fingers of our Norwich man seemed eager to tear this unnecessary appendage from its not very lofty position. It was decided that down it must come. There were no policemen in Lowestoft at this time, otherwise our steps would have been more marked with prudence. A ladder was marked out at a building, and about midnight Mr. Palmer’s elegant boot went speedily down the turnpike, its mutilated remains being subsequently found in a garden in that direction, never more to be restored to its former position, however much it might be needed.
This was to me an obscure and hazy atmosphere; the family did not reverence the Lord; there was not that veneration for the Sabbath, to which I had been accustomed, the motto most absorbing was working, eating, and drinking, but I had an upper room to myself and when the day’s business was over, I enjoyed that retirement so desirable and refreshing to all God’s children. I preserved in the business, under the instruction of the master.
There were two apprentices on the shop, George Nobbs and George Youngman. There was also a journeyman of the name of Edward Marjoram, all of them having died young men, while I am suffered to journey onward, amidst many difficulties, yet still supplied, protected, and sustained by the good hand of my God.
Amidst the many changes, the cares, the dangers, and the perplexities, as also the many comforts, I experienced, the year rolled away, and my experience gave me reasons to hope that I should have a fair amount of work in the establishment, with fair wages, which, to a certain extent, was realised, so that onward I continued to work for Mr. Winyard, at Lowestoft.
My sweetheart having left Mr. Norton’s family, she subsequently obtained a situation at Yarmouth, in the family of J. Hurry, Esq., as she said she thought it best to take a wider distance. I continued to work at Lowestoft, as before, and was elevated to the master’s seat, there being nearly enough for him to attend to downstairs, and at other places. I felt desirous of making the best use of my time, and being on piecework, could sometimes make long days, but at other times work did not come up so freely. Then the hands became impatient and wearied, when anxious to earn money, and could not seem to get forward. These were some of the beginnings of the trials of life, and they were to be continued, however desirous it might be to have them removed, but while permitted, they have their effects upon those whom they are designed to benefit.
The cheap postage had not yet come into operation, but letters could be enclosed in brown paper, and thus, taking the form of a parcel, were conveyed to Yarmouth, and safely delivered for the sum of twopence, by Mr. John Balls, at that time a carrier, residing at the corner of Duke’s Head Street, Lowestoft.
