THE PRODIGAL RETURNS HOME

Mr James Lund happened to be there. He was not a little surprised to see me, and wanted to know all particulars as to my wanderings. I offered an explanation as best I could. Mr Lund provided me with refreshment, which I badly needed, and paid my railway fair to Keighley. When I got into this "Golden Valley of the West Riding," as Keighley has been called, I had no little difficulty in getting to my home at the North Beck Mills.

My feet were intensely sore with my long tramp, and I could scarcely put one before the other-which, of course, is a necessary performance if one wants to walk anywhere. However, I reached home in time-after an absence of something like nine months. I was received there with all the welcome it was possible for a prodigal son to be. My mother said she dreamed the night before I was coming home. I don"t exaggerate facts much when I say there were great rejoicings in the camp at my home-coming. Of course, with paternal regard, my father wanted to know where I had been, and, when I had given him a hurried account of my peregrinations, he strongly recommended me to "jump into a peggytubful o" water an" hev a wesh." I accordingly executed the order of the bath, and donned a suit of clothes, which I had left behind me. My father said, "Well, I don"t want them to lose anything by you at Hull;" and with those few, but expressive remarks, he took my sailor"s suit and pitched it into the North Beck-which ran near by our homestead. I regret I have no proof before me that the clothes ever reached Hull. But we will let byegones be byegones.

I was put back to warp-dressing at North Beck Mills, where I remained for a few months.

LOOKING FOR A TRADE

Then my father determined that I should have a trade of some sort. I began to have a little taste for sculpture in a primitive kind of way, and I used to smuggle big stones into my bed-chamber, and, when opportunity offered, try to carve figures, busts, &c., out of them, with tools which, I must confess, were far from having a razor"s edge on them.

My father came to know of my efforts in this line, and he and my mother held a confab, the result of which was that I was apprenticed to an uncle of mine, a mason named Joshua Hill, of Harden. I remained at this business for a fair time and helped my uncle to build Ryecroft Primitive Methodist Chapel. He gave me every opportunity to become efficient in my new calling if practice goes for anything. When I pa.s.s the chapel at Ryecroft I look with some amount of pride on the two stoops, enclosing the door, which I hewed out. After finishing the chapel my uncle Joshua commenced the erection of a tavern, called the "Moorc.o.c.k," at Harden. But in my new situation my pocket-money was very limited. I didn"t appreciate this limitation, and I left the service of my uncle and went to Bingley.

ADVENTURING WITH THE SHOWS

It happened to be the Tide, and going into the Gas Field I fell in with the proprietor of a travelling theatre, a Frenchman, rejoicing in the name of "Billy Shanteney." He asked me to join his company, which I eventually did. At night, before the performance commenced, I paraded on the platform outside as a gay spangled warrior, and while thus engaged I was somewhat astonished to behold my uncle Joshua making his way to what seemed the entrance, but he darted on to me and attempted to drag me, as he himself said, "back home." However, I didn"t go back home, and we went on with the performance. At the close of the Tide week, the company went to Idle, and I went with them; and thence to the Bradford Fairground. It goes without saying that when Bill o"th" Hoylus End was playing as a king one night and next morning getting a red herring to his breakfast, there was something radically wrong somewhere. Still I had a hearty reverence for the "silvery fish," as will be apparent from the sentiments in the following

ODE TO A HERRING

Wee silvery fish, who n.o.bly braves The dangers o" the ocean waves, While monsters from the unknown caves Make thee their prey, Escaping which the human knaves On thee lig way.

No doubt thou was at first designed To suit the palates of mankind; Yet as I ponder now, I find Thy fame is gone, With dainty dish thou art behind With every one.

When times are hard we"re scant o" cash, And famine hungry bellies lash And tripe and trollabobble"s trash Begin to fail- Asteead o" soups an" oxtail "ash, Hail! herring, hail!

Full monny a time "tas made me groan To see thee stretched, despised, alone; While turned-up noses past have gone O" purse-proud men!

No friends, alas! save some poor one Fra" t" paddin" can.

If through thy pedigree we peep, Philosophy from thee can reap, To me I need not study deep There"s nothing foreign, For I, like thee, am sold too cheap, My little herring!

CHAPTER IV

PLAYING THE CLOWN AND EVADING THE IMPOSSIBLE

I left the employ of my friend the Frenchman, and joined "Mother" Beach"s "grand theatrical combination." The business was formerly owned by Mr Beach, and at his death the widow undertook the management of the concern, with a.s.sistance from her son William, whose stage cognomen was "Little Billy Beach." Mr Beach, junior, was a better cla.s.s comedian. The company consisted of, in addition to the last-named, Tom Smith, Jonas Wright, Edward Tate, Jack Buckley, John Spencer, Arthur Bland and myself, and a quartette of ladies, viz.-"Bella," afterwards Mrs William Beach; Ann Tracey, afterwards Mrs John Spencer; and Mrs Wright and "Mother"

Beach, who were sisters. Certainly not a very powerful company as regards numbers! We visited such towns as Batley, Adwalton, Gomersal, &c. Well do I remember being with the company at the Roberttown Races. Races were not actually run there at the time of our visit, but they had been, and the name was kept up. It was really the Feast or Tide, for which Roberttown was somewhat notorious, and the old race course was used for the fair ground. There was a conglomeration of scores of twopenny circuses, penny "gaffs", round-abouts, swings, cocoa-nut shies, shooting ranges, &c.

People flocked from far and near to the Fair. Our company made a great "hit." It was the custom for a few of us, myself included, to promenade in front of the a.s.sembled crowd, in "full dress," and then, after we had executed a picturesque Indian dance, the manager would strongly recommend the people to "Come forward, ladies and gentlemen, the show"s just a-going to begin." The performance consisted of a short play, a comic song by "Billy," and a portion of the pantomime, "Jack and the Beanstalk," the whole lasting under half-an-hour. We gave about a score performances a day: it was very hard work, and, what was more, hot weather. I don"t want to figure in these pages as a champion boozer-for I know that the _Herald_ is a warm advocate of temperance principles;-but it is nevertheless a fact that one hot day I drank no less than three shillings" worth of "shandy-gaff," at a penny per pint. It was dry work I can tell you, and made a dry stomach. Just before the close of the fair, strangely enough, there was a split in our ranks owing to the "matron"

having engaged new blood, in the shape of three fellows-Harry McMillan, Tom Harding, and Paddy Crotty-who were to play the leading parts. It has always been said that much jealousy exists among the theatrical profession, and jealousy existed and caused an "eruption" among us. We had a "regular rumpus," and Spencer, Buckley, and myself seceded and "set up" on our own account. In the evening of the very day of the upheaval, we made a pitch on the greensward opposite to the theatre we had seceded from. Spencer, I ought to mention here, was "the great man of strength;"

Buckley, the "marvellous jumper;" while I myself filled a double role-being both the "clown" and "cashier" of the establishment. The latter is generally a safe post to hold. Spencer would willingly allow a stone to be broken on his chest with a sledge hammer, bend bars of iron across his arm, and the like; and Buckley would volunteer to jump over as many as five boat horses. But now it comes to myself. I have to confess I was always rather backward at coming forward. Suffice it to say that I didn"t make a bad clown; which, perhaps, is not so much to be wondered at seeing that I was said to have been "born so." Our entertainment took immensely. We removed to Skelmanthorpe, near Denby Dale, where we put the inhabitants into a state of great excitement. On a large board we writ in chalk that on such a night we would "give a wonderful entertainment" in the backyard of the tavern at which we were staying; John Spencer, the great man of strength, would pull against five horses, and as a grand _finale_, Jack Buckley would jump over five horses, and a cab thrown in.

I, albeit the poor clown, saw that this was a gigantic fraud, and, fearing unpleasant consequences, I cast about for some scheme to make our position safe. I arranged with a policeman, by putting half-a-crown into his hand (from behind, of course) for him to show himself in the backyard just as that part of the performance was commencing, and solemnly pretend to stop the performance in the course of duty. Well, the entertainment was begun before a crowded "house," and when the particular part in question was coming off, Mr Policeman, true to his promise, stepped forward, and said he would not see anybody killed. Spencer had got ready to draw against _one _horse when he was interfered with by the gentleman in blue-good soul! There"s many a warm heart beats beneath blue cloth and plated b.u.t.tons. The audience took as gospel the interference on the part of the law, and duly dispersed after witnessing other "harmless" portions of the entertainment.

CLOWNS AT A DISCOUNT

Next morning we were up betimes and on our way to Halifax, where we knew it was the Fair Day. We had an inkling that we might be able to engage ourselves at some of the shows. And so it came to pa.s.s. Spencer re-engaged with Wild"s, and Buckley got a situation at Pablo Franco"s.

But clowns were at a discount.

SEEKING AND FINDING

However, there happened to be on the Fair Ground the proprietress of a new theatre. She was in search of "talent"-you know what I mean-eh? Oh, yes! The theatre was a wooden one, in Barnsley. It was not quite finished, but would be ready for opening in a week or so, and the old lady-"Virgin Mary," I believe she was commonly called-wanted to get a company together in time for the opening. She fully explained matters to me, and, as a result I was engaged-that is to say I was professionally engaged by her.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

She, of course, saw the whole of my personal belongings at first sight.

And it is often said that first impressions are lasting. She paid my railway fare and gave me a "lift" of half-a-crown, and also mentioned, by the way, that I might walk over to Barnsley if I liked and expend the amount of the fare on myself. With this understanding we parted company.

Next morning I started for my new sphere of life, deciding to utilise

SHANKS" PONY

It was a glorious morning. When I set off, my feet were encased in a pair of high Wellington boots, but as I walked along one of the boots began to pinch my foot very badly, so I stopped somewhere between Halifax and Brighouse and changed the offensive boot for one of my stage pumps.

THE GREEN BAG

The Wellington I deposited in my green bag, which by the way, contained my stage "properties," to wit, tights, tunics, and the like. About this time I was overtaken by a man who would have me believe he had seen me before somewhere. I didn"t like the look of that man a bit. He told me he was walking to Sheffield and would have no objections to accompanying me as far as I was going. I should liked to have told him that I was of opinion that "one"s company, two"s none," yet his request of itself was not in any way a peculiar one. So we jogged on together for some time. He noticed that I limped somewhat, and in consideration thereof, I, on his invitation, allowed him to carry my green bag-my only belongings-my all.

We chatted very pleasantly on the road, and it was agreed, with no dissentient, that I should call at the first tavern we came to in Brighouse, and do a bit of busking. He said he did not care to call at the tavern, seeing that he was so shabbily dressed: he would _wait_ at the other end of the town. Of course I took in all he said as gospel, or the next approaching it. I entered the first tavern that hove insight, he promising to "stay about."

ENTERTAINING STRANGERS

There was a "druffen Scotchman" in the house, and as soon as he became aware that I had read much about the Land o" Cakes and Barley, he showed a kind of rapturous paternal affection for me. When he learned that I could "recite a wee bit," his delight knew no bounds. I recited several pieces for the entertainment of the company, such as "Young Lochinvar"