Part 6 (2/2)

A DENSELY-CROWDED HOUSE

The old fiddler-a host in himself-was the orchestra. He knew about three tunes, and these he played o'er and o'er. I forgot to mention that we had not an appointed door-keeper, or cas.h.i.+er, so I undertook that superior office myself. ”My word,” said some of the people as they came in, ”just lewk at that monkey; it's t'moast remarkable monkey et ivver wor knawn i'

Howarth; it's soa mich sense woll it can tak t'bra.s.s at t'door.” Well, the house became so crowded that there was scarcely any room left for us to perform. The time for commencing arrived, and we appeared before the curtain, though we felt at a great loss to know how we were going to manage to perform in the s.p.a.ce there was left; for it must be known that we did actually intend to give a performance. We had gone through a few ”feats”-Spencer lifting and performing with 56lb. weights, and I doing a few tricks at tight-rope walking and dancing. Spencer was behind the curtain waiting his ”turn,” and when I retired he said: ”It's no good; we cannot give satisfaction here.”

THE VANIs.h.i.+NG TRICK

”There isn't room for you to work, never tell of me;” adding, ”You had better go and get you right clothes on. Bring the drum and all our belongings you can get hold on, and slip out at the back door the best way that you can.” I obeyed. The ”orchestra” was discoursing diverting music. I went down to exchange monkey for man, so to speak, and, this done, and having collected our properties, I made my way, happily undetected, out of the house, and cut across the fields. Weighed down as I was with the copper taken at the door, and in my anxiety to look after everything and get away as fast as I could, I let the drum slip from my grasp. It rolled down a steep field, and for a short time I had a fine chase after it. ”But where was Jack Spencer?” readers will be wondering.

Yes; I had forgot all about Jack for the minute. As he afterwards told me, he got away all right except for a little mishap which befell him just after he had left the place. Opposite the Fleece Inn was a cartwright's shop (I believe the shop is there now), and behind the wall skirting the roadway was placed an old cart. Spencer knew not of either of these things, and when he lightly mounted the wall and leaped-before he had looked-it was to find himself in the cart, or, to be more precise, falling through the bottom of it. He rather lamed his leg, and had to limp up to Merrall's mill, where I was waiting for him. Together, we made for Keighley, and on arriving there we ”put up” at the Lord Rodney Inn, in Church Green, which was then kept by Mrs Fox. Safe in the hostelry, we counted up our spoil, and, perhaps, congratulated ourselves that we had got off so easily. Jack told me that before leaving the entertainment he told the fiddler to play up ”special,” as he was going to do a ”fine trick.”

THE AUDIENCE DISCOVER THE ”SLOPE.”

Next day we learned from a young man whom we came across at Wild's theatre how affairs had developed at Haworth the previous night. He said that for half-an-hour the fiddler went on playing his favourite tune, ”Rosin the bow.” By-and-bye, the audience manifested signs of active curiosity as to the position of affairs, and one man said he would go behind the curtain and see for himself, adding, ”There must be something wrong.” He went to the front, and pulled the screen on one side to find-nothing! The audience generally bore up with good heart, but one determined-looking individual said, ”I've paid my two-pence, an' I'm bahn ta hev a cannel for it, if nowt else.” And with that he stalked up to the front, and possessed himself of one of the candles which had been in use as footlights. Others then made a rush for the remaining candles, and in the disorder the poor fiddler fared rather badly, for he got his fiddle broken. But Spencer and I afterwards visited him, and made good the loss he sustained. I must say that we never intended the affair to be a swindle, and, borrowing one of my friend Squire Leach's forcible expressions, I may say we ”started with good intentions, whatever came out of 'em.” Perhaps I may be excused for introducing the following verses of my own, ent.i.tled ”Haworth Sharpness,” to close this chapter:-

Says a wag to a porter i' Haworth one day, ”Yer net ower sharp-ye drones o't' railway; For fra Keighley to Howarth I've been oft enough, But nivver a hawpenny I've paid yer, begoff.”

The porter replied, ”I varry mich daht it, But I'll gie thee a quart ta tell all abaht it; For it looks plain ta me tha cuddn't pa.s.s t'snicket, Without tippin' ta t' porter thi pa.s.s or thi ticket”

”Tha'll write up ta Derby, an' then tha'll deceive me.”

”I willn't, this time,” said t'porter, ”believe me.”

”Then aht wi' thi bra.s.s, an' let us be knocking.

For I've walked it a fooit-back all raand bi t'Bocking.”

CHAPTER VII

Perhaps it will not be out of place for me to introduce a few recollections I have of several gentlemen who were about this time of my life prominently before the public.

ABOUT OLD JOE FIRTH

I have heard Oastler speak of the tyranny of factory life in Keighley. I remember hearing him speak at the ”Non. Con.” Chapel in Sun-street, when Joe Firth, an old Keighleyite, rose from the gallery and began to address the meeting. Mr Oastler invited Firth to the rostrum. He went and delivered a vivid description of factory life. He was an illiterate man, and spoke in his native dialect. His speech was so telling that it was well reported, a column appearing in the _Leeds Weekly Times._ Firth was fond of speaking of the way his speech was reported and dressed up so that he really could not recognise his own words. Firth was afterwards called to London to give evidence, and he saved enough money out of his allowance to enable him to abandon hand wool-combing, and set up as a hawker of tea and coffee. He never looked behind him after that, and, being a great ”spouter,” he got onto the Keighley Local Board. He was one of the opponents of the Baths and Washhouses Scheme, and, in fact, he liked opposition in many things. He was a staunch teetotaller. He died leaving some property.

TH' CROOKED LEGGED 'UNS O' KEIGHLEY

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