With an apology for digressing for the last two weeks from my own Recollections, I now hasten to continue my story. Going back to 1872, it was in that year I passed my second term of residence in Bradford. This time I was, to some extent, an exile—driven from home. It was brought about in this way. I was keeping a grocer’s shop in Westgate at the time, and one day, while I was away at my employment for Messrs Lund in Heber-street, a traveller for a Leeds firm of drysalters called at the shop, and forced upon my wife, who was in charge, several pounds’ worth of goods. Of course, when I got home I kicked up a “shine,” and distinctly said I should not accept the goods, which I sent back to Leeds. My returning the goods, however, did not mend my case, and I was summoned to Leeds to “show cause,” &c. But I treated the court with contempt by not attending, and an execution was issued against me forthwith. I have a keen remembrance of the visit which Mr John Scott, the bailiff at the Keighley County Court, paid to my house. Mr Scott said he had got Sheriff’s orders to sell me up or arrest me. I told him that I had a great fear of going to gaol, and asked him if he would go and ask his brother, Mr W. M. Scott, the high bailiff, to allow me until 9 o’clock on the following morning in which to make an effort to raise the money. The “bum” had scarcely got out of sight ere I was in consultation with John Parker, the landlord of the Bay Horse Inn. John rather pitied me. He agreed to lend me his horse, and I borrowed a van from Mr Joseph Wright, cabinet maker, determined to give my would-be captors the “leg bail.” Early next morning I was, so to speak, doing a moonlight “flit”—the van, containing my furniture, in charge of two men, was on the road to Bradford. Mrs Wright I left with friends at Keighley, and myself, accomplished the journey by rail. I spent some time at the top of Manchester road, Bradford, looking for a suitable house, and had almost resolved to give up the search in that quarter when I made the acquaintance of an old lady, who said she had a nice house—which vacant house isn’t a nice one?—to let at 9s 6d per week. This was a large figure, but, under the trying circumstances, I agreed to rent the house. An hour or so afterwards the van arrived, and having got my goods and chattels into the house, I dismissed the two men, enjoining them to strict secrecy as to my whereabouts. Having got the house into something like ship shape order, I set about devising a nom de plume and eventually fixed upon “James Wrightson,” which seemed to fit best, seeing that I was James Wright’s son.

IN BRADFORD—AS PATTERN DRESSER

Next day I managed to secure employment as pattern dresser with Messrs Ward and Bottomley, manufacturers. My stay there, however, was only short, owing to a disagreement with my foreman on a political subject. I then called upon Mr Wade, manufacturer, for whom I had worked at Morton. Mr F. S. Pearson, now of Keighley, was the manager of the warp sizing department in the fancy trade. Mr Pearson set me on, and I continued in Mr Wade’s employ for about twelve months, having a very profitable situation.

AS WARP-SIZING INSPECTOR

One day I was met by a gentleman who asked me if I would act as his warp-sizing inspector, promising me a very comfortable salary. This gentleman, or his firm, carried on the business of warp-sizing, and he explained that it would be my duty to go round to different factories to assess the damage, if any, done to warps which had been sent from those factories to be sized. I was pressed very much to take this position, and ultimately I accepted it. The business, I learned, was in the hands of Mr Ward, and was formerly owned by Mr Titus Gaukroger. My new duties were accompanied with difficulties, though after a time I got along fairly well. I found out many little things, among which were not a few cases of manufacturers—bosom friends, socially—defrauding each other. I had occupied the position of warp-dressing inspector about six months, when the hand of—Fate, shall I say? was again placed upon me. An old friend of mine—Christopher Brown, a native of Haworth—popped in to see me. He had been away for some time in Canada, where he had made a good sum of money. He spoke to my master, and obtained for me two or three days’ leave of absence. This proved the greatest breakdown that ever happened to me. I stayed a day or two with Mr Brown, who then suggested that I should extend my holiday. I was always easily persuaded, and this time was no exception. There was plenty of money to go at, and Mr Brown induced me to travel to Middlesbro’ with him. From there we visited many places, being absent from Bradford about a fortnight. On returning to my employment, I found that my place had been filled. Mr Ward, after hearing my story, expressed himself very sorry for me. He said he kept my place vacant for eight or nine days, but was then compelled to fill it up.

AS “BUM” BAILIFF

I was thus again a workless worker. But not for long. I fell in with an auctioneer, who set me on as a sort of “bum” bailiff. This auctioneer had Douglas Mills and Victoria Mills, Bradford, on his hands for sale, and required someone to watch them. I was in charge of Douglas Mills for three weeks, and a fine time I had. The spinning frames and other machinery had been sold to Messrs Binns and Masker, brokers, of Keighley, but there were many odds and ends left, which I was given permission to realise. These “odds and ends” included all the leather, cotton waste, and loose wood about the place, and the proceeds from the sale of these, in addition to my weekly wage, tended to a not inconsiderable sum. Perhaps it was this extraordinary “flush” of money that caused me to have sufficient courage to venture back to Keighley. (I may say that I had not during my absence from the town encountered my friend, the drysalter.)

BACK TO KEIGHLEY

It was 1876 when I returned home. It was just before the Liberal club was opened by the Marquis of Hartington. The occasion, I may say, was made a great “to do”—what with the elaborate opening ceremonial, the procession in the street, and the great banquet at Dalton Mills (which had just been built). I wrote some twenty verses descriptive of the event, and these I had printed and ready for distribution before the banquet commenced. I was introduced to the ducal party, which, in addition to the Marquis of Hartington, included his brother, Lord Frederick Cavendish, Lord Houghton, and others. Perhaps I shall not be thought unduly egotistical for mentioning that Lord Houghton, who is a poet of no mean order, commended my verses.

THE ORDER OF BUFFALOES

While in Bradford, I became acquainted with many members of the Royal Order of Ante-diluvian Buffaloes. A lodge was held at the Hope and Anchor Inn, and the meetings were attended by many professional gentlemen, including Wallett, the Queen’s jester, at times. Before I left Bradford I was made a “primo” of the lodge. Back to Keighley again, I found that a Shakspeare Lodge of “Buffs” was held at the Ship Inn. The saying is, “Once a Buff., always a Buff.,” and I at once allied myself with the lodge in my native town. During my office as primo I initiated upwards of 200 members, among whom I may mention Mr James Walsh, the late Mr David Hudson, Mr Joseph Town, Mr John Fortune, and Mr James Blakey. Being the only officer who could initiate a member, I “had my hands full,” and I at last decided to communicate with the Bradford lodge as to the installation of a few primos in Keighley. Accordingly, several primos came down one Sunday afternoon and installed half-a-dozen primos; so that for the future I was relieved of much work in connection with the lodge. There is one very laughable incident I have to chronicle. The townspeople had got across with a certain gentleman, of whom Alfred Harris and I made an elaborate effigy, which we intended to burn. It was a beautiful looking figure and no mistake. We took the effigy to the lodge-room until such time as we required it, hanging it behind the door. One night the landlord (Mr Patrick McShee) had occasion to go into the lodge-room; he knew nothing about the effigy, and as soon as the poor landlord saw the “figure of a man hanging himself behind the door,” he gave a series of the most weird and penetrating howls. It was not long before he was downstairs, and asking his wife in an excited voice, “Does ta know whoa wor at t’last lodge meetin’ an’ didn’t cum dahnstairs?” “Noa,” said his wife, “What’s up?” “Ther’s somebody hung thersel a back o’ t’ door,” said the trembling landlord. “Oh! nonsense,” said Mrs McShee. Nevertheless, she went up into the room; and fine fun there was, you bet, when it was discovered that the “man” was a dummy. The incident caused unlimited amusement for the customers, but the landlord was not able to appreciate the fun, and, indeed, was some weeks before he got over the shock.