HOME-LIFE OF THE LANCASHIRE FACTORY FOLK DURING THE  COTTONFAMINE




BY

EDWIN WAUGH

Author of "Lancashire Sketches", "Poems and LancashireSongs",
"Tufts of Heather from the Northern Moors",etc, etc.


"Hopdance cries in poor Tom's belly for two white herrings.
Croaknot, black angel: I have no food for thee."
—KingLear.



CONTENTS

Chap.  PageI      1     Among the Blackburn OperativesII     13          "     "III    23    Among the Preston OperativesIV     32          "     "V      40          "     "VI     48          "     "VII    59          "     "VIII   69          "     "IX     79          "     "X      87          "     "XI     97          "     "XII    107         "     "XIII   115         "     "XIV    123         "     "XV     132   Among the Wigan OperativesXVI    139         "     "XVII   147         "     "XVIII  155         "     "XIX    163         "     "XX     171         "     "XXI    179         "     "XXII   189   An Incident by the WaysideXXIII  197   Wandering Minstrels; or, Wails of the Workless Poor
LETTERS AND SPEECHES UPON THE COTTON FAMINE
       209   Letters of a Lancashire Lad       217   Mr Cobden's Speech       227   Speech of the Earl of Derby
       253   Songs of Distress chiefly written during the Cotton Famine


PREFACE



The following chapters are reprinted from the columns of the ManchesterExaminer and Times, to which Paper they were contributed by theAuthor during the year 1862.



HOME LIFE OF THE LANCASHIRE FACTORY FOLK DURING THE COTTON FAMINE.
(Reprintedfrom the Manchester Examiner and Times of 1862)



CHAPTER I.



AMONG THE BLACKBURN OPERATIVES
"Poor Tom's a-cold. Whogives anything to poor Tom?"
—King Lear.

Blackburn is one of the towns which has suffered more than the restin the present crisis, and yet a stranger to the place would not seeanything in its outward appearance indicative of this adverse nip ofthe times. But to any one familiar with the town in its prosperity,the first glance shows that there is now something different on footthere, as it did to me on Friday last. The morning was wet and raw,a state of weather in which Blackburn does not wear an Arcadian aspect,when trade is good. Looking round from the front of the railway station,the first thing which struck me was the great number of tall chimneyswhich were smokeless, and the unusual clearness of the air. Comparedwith the appearance of the town when in full activity, there is nowa look of doleful holiday, an unnatural fast-day quietness about everything.There were few carts astir, and not so many people in the streets asusual, although so many are out of work there. Several, in the garbof factory operatives, were leaning upon the bridge, and others weretrailing along in twos and threes, looking listless and cold; but nobodyseemed in a hurry. Very little of the old briskness was visible. Whenthe mills are in full work, the streets are busy with heavy loads oftwist and cloth; and the workpeople hurry in blithe crowds to and fromthe factories, full of life and glee, for factory labour is not so hurtfulto healthy life as it was thirty years ago, nor as some people thinkit now, who don't know much about it. There were few people at the shopwindows, and fewer inside. I went into some of the shops to buy tri

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