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Published for the Editob by S, W. PARTRIDGE, at the Oepice of the “British Workman,” No. 9, Paternoster Bow, London. [Price One Penny.
The “British Workman” has been
commenced with an earnest desire to
HEALTH, WEALTH, AND HAPPINESS
We solicit the support both of employers and
employed, believing that the interests of both
are firmly linked together, and that whatever
injures one, affects the other.
Instead of making many promises we shall leave
these and future pages to speak for themselves.
“ OUR OWN COTTAGE.”
A bricklayer who said he had “hard work to live,”
but who found both time and money for the beer-house
every night, was induced by his master to deposit a few
shillings weekly in the savings’ bank. The shillings soon
became pounds, and at the end of about ten years the
working man’s bank book shewed a balance in his
favour of £200! “ Now Andrew,” said the master,
“you have made bricks for other folks’ houses, make
some for your own.” A plot of land was soon purchased,
and a neat cottage was built.
It was a joyous occasion when Andrew’s family took their
firstmeal in “Our Own Cottage.” Andrew has now a vote
for the county of York 1 Are there not thousands of the
working men of our country, who, like Andrew, might
live rent free in their own cottages if they would ?
THE TWO WEAVERS.
By the late G. Mogridge, Esq.
Away with discontent, for it is mean, cowardly, and
ungrateful. Wage war against it, for it is an irrecon-
cilable enemy to mankind. Resist it, pursue it, banish
it. Away with it from the world !
If men complained only when they had cause, it would
not signify, but, alas 1 it is not so.
While thankless men ’mid all the thousand gilts
That riches, power, and honour can bestow,
Endure one pang of unexpected pain,
Or see one trifling pleasure unattained,
They guiltily forget what God has given,
And for that little felt, or unpossessed.
Hang down their heads, and sorrow and repine.
William Drew was a weaver, and having neither
“ chick nor child ” to provide for, might, had he pos-
sessed an atom of thankfulness, have been very com-
fortable, though his gets were small. William had
never been married, and no wonder: for how any wo-
man, young or old, handsome or ugly, with good
feeling in her heart, or a grain of prudence in her
head, could consent to live with such a whining, pining,
discontented fellow, is difficult to imagine. There is
a secret worth knowing to all working men, especially
if their wages are low ; it is this—Cheerfulness and
thankfulness turn shillings into half-crowns, while dis-
content and repining change them into fourpenny-pieces.
William Drew could only get work when it was really
wanted, for no master would willingly have to do with so
dissatisfied a servant. From morning to night he was
pulling a long face, growling at the badness of the times,
and grumbling at the lowness of his wages. No wonder
that he went by the name of Whining William.
the loaf lecture. (See n< xr page).
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THE BRITISH WORKMAN.
Trne it is that a hand-loom weaver has to
work hard for little money, but neither wailing
nor quailing will make things better, though they
are tolerably sure to make them worse. Whining
William was as a dark cloud wherever he went,
casting a shadow on all around him.
Henry Drake, a neighbour of William Drew’s,
was a weaver also, and contrived to make both
ends meet, and to keep out of-debt, though he
had a wife and three children. His quiet content-
ment and cheerful thankfulness recommended
him to his masters and his neighbours. The man
had a sunny spirit. The very throwing of his
shuttle told you that he was happy at his labour.
Wherever he went, he met with a welcome.
Tt happened at a season when great orders
were expected, that William Drew and Henry
Drake had more work out than usual from the
same master, and this work they had engaged to
deliver by a certain day. Unfortunately for the
masters, a report was buzzed about that the
weavers in a little time, would strike for an
advance of wages.
Mo sooner did the report reach William Drew,
than he set off to Henry Drake, to talk the matter
over with him. “ Henry,” says he, “ the strike
that is coming on will be something in our pockets.
Masters are not to have their own way in every
thing. Not another hour’s work will I do till the
thing is settled.”
“As to that,” replied Henry, “you can hardly
do as you like, William, for you have agreed to
send in your work next Saturday.”
“ So I will,” said William, “ if master will give
me the new price, but I am not going to lose a
chance, if you are. We have got the wliip-hand
of our masters, and now is the time to keep it.”
“ Honesty is the best policy, all the world
over,” said Henry. “ Let us do as we would be
done by. You agreed to send in your work at
the old price; keep your word like a man. It
will be quite time enough to talk about the rise
when it takes pi nee.”
“ Fine talking;,” replied William, “but I will be
ground down no longer. If master likes to give
me the new price, well and good, and if not, he
may do the work himself.”
Having thus spoken, away went William Drew
to know how the strike was getting on, little
considering that he was losing double by his idle-
ness what he could get by the new prices.
No sooner was William Drew gone, than Henry
Drake set to work harder than ever, to make up
for the time which had been lost in talking.
Nimbly did he throw the shuttle, saying to him-
self, “You are standing in your own light,
William Drew! you are standing in your own
Saturday night will come, whether men are
industrious or idle, and when it did come, William
Drew had not a penny due to him, while Henry
Drake, having taken in his work, had more than
his ordinary wages to receive.
But now a dark cloud came over the hand-loom
weavers, for the great orders that were expected
not having arrived, the intended strike of the
workmen was set aside. Instead of the men
having the whip-hand of the masters, the masters
had the men in their power. Work not being
wanted, they only employed such hands as they
could depend on.
Willing enough was William Drew, wheia he
saw how matters stood, to finish the work he had
in hand; but this his master would not allow.
As he had not done it when he could, he would
not let him do it when he would. The work was
taken from him, and given to Henry Drake, with
a promise, on the part of his master, that it should
not he his fault if Henry had not constant work
for the future.
When Christmas came, it was not necessary to
take stock, for neither William Drew nor Henry
Drake had many shillings before-hand. Their
hand-looms and a little furniture formed the
whole of their possessions. Let us see, however,
how the year had rolled round with them both.
William Drew had dragged through it with
heavy heels, losing opportunities, making peevish
complaints, and moping like an owl. He had
offended the different masters he had worked for,
and run into debt; Henry Drake, on the contrary,
had blithely pursued his calling, singing like a
lark, and never letting “ the grass grow under
his feet.” Industry and thankfulness had procured
him work, lightened his labour, increased the
value of his wages, sweetened his food, led him
to his Bible, and thereby brightened his hope of
While discontent in shades of night
Endures a winter drear,
Contentment, in the sunshine bright.
Has summer all the year.
Do you want to know the man against whom
you have most reason to guard yourself? Your
looking-glass will give you a very fair likeness of
Think not of doing as you like, Do as you
ought to do.
There are few departed writers of whom it
can be more truly said, than of Mr. Mogridge,
“ Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, for
they rest from their labours, and their works do
follow them.” The writings of “ Old Humphrey”
will interest and bless generations yet to come.
We had the privilege of spending an evening
with Mr. Mogridge shortly prior to his death.
It was a time long to be remembered by us.
Mr. Mogridge took a deep interest in the con-
templated “ British Workman,” and at our last
interview handed us several pieces for its pages.
The “ Two Weavers ” was one of them.
Amongst the last verses ever composed by him
were some for the “ British Workman.”
George III. frequently utter-
ed the liberal axiom, “No British
subject is by necessity excluded
from the peerage.” Consistently
with this sentiment, he once
checked a man of high rank,
who was lamenting that a very
good speaker in the Court of
Aldermen was of a mean trade.
said the old monarch, “ a man
of any honest trade may make
himself respectable if he will.”
The difference between rising
at five and seven o’clock in the
morning, for the space of forty
years, supposing a man to go to
bed at the same hour at night, is
nearly equivalent to an addition
of ten years to a man’s life.
I have provided water for
the use of the men in every
department of the works. In
summer time, the men engaged
in the strongest work, such as
the strikers to the heavy forges
drink water very copiously. In
general, the men who drink wa-
ter, are really more active, and
do more work, and are more
healthy, than the workmen who
drink fermented liquors. — W.
Fairbairn, Esq., Manchester.
lay a good foundation for the “ time to come.”
It is true that he had formerly been a sad
swearer, drunkard, and everything that was bad,
but he had been led by God’s grace to repent of
all his wrong doings, and for many years prior
to his death he was truly a good man.
It was well for Robert that he lived ready for
death, for it came suddenly. Ha was at work at
Tiverton, one day a few years ago, when the
embankment, under which he was working, gave
way, and in a moment he was crushed to death.
His funeral was an affecting scene—the coffin
was carried to the grave by eight of his fellow-
workmen; and forty “navies,” dressed in their
clean smocks followed in the mournful procession
An impressive funeral-sermon was preached by
the Rev. Geo. Curnock. The tears chased down
many a sun-burnt cheek, whilst the minister
shewed that Robert having built upon that good
foundation, oven on the “ Rock Christ Jesus,”
sudden death to him, would be sudden glory.
Not a few hearts felt on this solemn occasion,
“Robert Blake was right.—/ wish I was like
him—religion is a good thing in the hour of
Reader! are you laying a good foundation for
the time to come ? Life will soon be over!
LAYING A GOOD FOUNDATION;
ROBERT BLAKE, THE RAILWAY “ NAVTE.”
Robert Blake was one of the finest fellows that
ever handled a shovel or turned a sod.
He was one of the best tempered “ navies ” that
ever worked in a gang, and like many of his
class he had no mean share of tact and good com-
Robert was looked up to as a sort of “ Captain”
on the various “ lines” where he worked; and
strange as some men may think it, he could
secure attention and respect without even a sin-
gle oath. Robert was not a swearing “ navie.”
There are many now living who worked with
Robert, and can testify that it was no uncommon
thing to hear conversations something like the
following during their “ diggings,” or laying the
foundation stone, of some large railway station or
Robert. “ Now, George, my lad, lay it well—
we’ve piled you a capital bed. Nothing like a
good foundation, George, whether for this world or
the next.” %,■
George. “ What, Robert, is it you again, are
you going to preach us a sermon on stones ?”
Robert. “ Not at all a bad text, George. The
most wonderful preacher that ever came into the
world, said that All men were building, either on
rocky or sandy foundation. On one, we can
stand the test of a dying hour, but if we have
nothing better than a sandy foundation, woe
In this kind, and yet faithful way, would
Robert Blake seek to turn passing events to good
The occupation of a “ navie” is a very danger-
ous one, as the numerous accidents and deaths
by land slips, falling of tunnels, &c. painfully
Robert felt that of all men “navies” should
1. Never put off till to-morrow
what ought to be done to-
2. Never trouble others for
what you can do yourself.
S. Never spend your money be-
fore you have it.
4. Never buy what you do not
want, because it is cheap.
5. Pride co3ts us more than
hunger, thirst, or cold.
0. We never repent of having
eaten too little.
7. Nothing is troublesome that
we do willingly.
8. How much pain have those
evils cost us which never
9. Tate things always, by their
10. When angry, count ten be-
fore you speak : if very an-
gry, count a hundred.
When old Zachariah Fox, the
great merchant of Liverpool, was
once asked by what means he had
contrived to realize so large a
fortune, his reply was, “ Friend,
by one article alone, in which
thou may’st deal too, if thou
A man who gives his children
habits of industry, provides for
them better than by giving them
When Dean Swift was argu-
ing one day with great coolness,
with a gentleman who had be-
come exceedingly warm in the
dispute, one of the company asked
him, “ How can you keep your
temper so well?” “The reason
is,” replied the Dean, “I have
truth on my side.”
THE SAILOR AND THE WIDOW;
Nearly half a century ago, when a coach ran
daily between Glasgow and Greenock,by Paisley,
on a forenoon, when a little past Bishopton, a lady
in the coach noticed a boy walking barefooted,
seemingly tired, and struggling with tender feet.
She desired the coachman to take him up, give
him a seat, and she would pay for it. When they
arrived at the inn in Greenock, she enquired of
the boy what was his object in coming there.
He said he wished to be a sailor, and hoped some
of the captains would engage him. She gave him
half-a-crown, wished him success, and charged
him to behave well. Twenty years after this, the
coach was returning to Glasgow in the afternoon,
on the same road; when near Bishopton, a sea cap-
tain observed an old widow lady on the road, walk-
ing very slowly, fatigued and weary. He ordered
the coachman to put her in the coach, as there was
an empty seat, and he would pay for her. Imme-
diately after, when changing horses at Bishopton,
the passengers were sauntering about, except the
captain and old lady, who remained in the coach.
The lady thanked him for his kindly feeling to-
wards her, as she was now unable to pay for a
seat. He said, “he had always sympathy for
weary pedestrians, since he himself was in that
state when a boy, twenty years ago, near this very
place, where a tender-hearted lady ordered the
coachman to take him up, and paid for his seat.”
“ Well do I remember that incident,” said she.
“ I am that lady, but my lot in life is changed.
I was then independent. Now I am reduced to
poverty by the doings of a prodigal son.” “ How
happy am I,” said the captain, “ that I have been
successful in my enterprises, and am returning
home to live on my fortune; and from this day I
shall bind myself and heirs to supply you with
twenty-five pounds per annum till your death.”
THE LOAF LECTURE.
“A FAIR day’s wages for a fair day’s labour”
is a very good maxim and a very favourite one with
English working men. To this let us add another,
which ought to bo a3 well understood and as popular
with every man who has to earn his daily bread by
the sweat of his brow. It is, “ Good wages well
spent.” The earnings ofa hard-working,industrious
man ought to enable him to live in comfort and
respectability.’ In most cases they would do so if
they were spent to the best advantage; but everything
depends upon carrying money to the best market.
It is no uncommon thing to see two working men
earning the same wages, perhaps in the same
factory;—One rents a tidy little house, has it neatly
and comfortably furnished, enjoys plenty of good
wholesome food, and is able to appear with his wife
and little ones as respectably dressed as any man need
desire. The other can scarcely make both ends meet
occupying one miserable room, a two-pair back; not
twenty shillings’ worth of furniture in the place; a
shabby, dirty-looking fellow, who keeps his wife and
little ones in rags, and doesn’t perhaps see a decent
joint of meat on his table once a month.
Two such men are represented in the picture on the
first page, and one of them is trying to explain to his
neighbour how it is that he manages to make his wages
go so far, and provide so many comforts for himself and
his family. He is endeavouring to prove to his shop-
mate what folly it is for a working man to imagine that
he can’t do without Intoxicating Drink. “Yon
know,” says he, “ that I have been a Teetotaller for
seven years, and I owe to Teetotalism the happy,
comfortable home I now enjoy. Seven years ago I
used to think, as you do, that I couldn’t do my work
without my usual allowance of beer; I argued that
hard work needed strong beer; and I really thought
that there was more nourishment and strength in
good ale than in any thing else I could take—that
strong ale made men strong.”
“And do you mean to say that thero is no nourish-
ment in beer, then?” said his neighbour.
“I don’t say that there’s no nourishment, but I
do say that if you want real nourishment and strength)
the very dearest place to buy it is at the publican’s.
You will, I am sure, agree with me, that whatevet
nourishment may be contained in a quart of ale must
come from the barley of which it is made. If you
buy the barley or wheat in the shape of bread, yoU
get the whole nourishment which it contains without
any deductions; but what happens before this barley
reaches you in the shape of beer ? It has first to pass
through the hands of the malster. He takes a bushel
of barley, weighing 52 lbs., and converts it into a
bushel of malt, weighing only 38 lbs. There has
been a loss of 14 lbs., of solid matter, mostly nourish-
ment; and the barley, which might have been
bought, say for Ss. 6d. is now sold as malt, for 7s.
It then goes to the brewer, who puts it into his
mash-tub, his object being only to obtain the sac-
charine or sweet matter which it contains, leaving
the grains, containing another large share of the
nourishment, for the pigs. In this process full a
third is lost to the ale consumer.
‘ ‘ With every loss of nourishment the price increases,
for now you have to pay the brewer’s profits; and
they ARE no trifle. But it is very seldom that you
buy direct from the brewer. The ale goes to the
publican, and doesn’t always come out of his tap
quite as pure as it goes into his cellar. A little more
of the nourishment is lost, and another heavy profit
has to be paid. Then, in addition to all this, comes
the tax which the Government makes the ale drinker
pay, and from which he would have been entirely
exempt (thanks to Free Trade) if he had been content
with the nourishment in good wholesome grain.
Here is a little calculation which shows just what
proportion of nutriment the ale drinker gets when
he spends his money on beer.
Two shillings’ worth of barley weighs .. 30 lbs.
Buying this amount of beer is equal to
giving to the maltster…………. l.| lb,
To the government……………….. 4 j
To the brewer,………………… 10
To the retailer…………………. 74
To allowing for loss in malting……. l|
To allowing for loss in brewing, given in
grains to cattle ……………… 2
To allowing for loss in fermentation and
To reserving for himself as the Fool’s
Portion! …………………. 1$
You see that the Teetotaller is holding up a slice of
bread upon a knife. He is giving his friend a prac-
tical illustration of the difference between keeping
whole loaf for the use of his own family, and
dividing it between so many claimants as maltster,
brewer, publican, and tax collector. He cuts a large
loaf into nine different pieces of various sizes, and
taking them up one after another, “ Here,” says he,
“ is the maltster’s share, about one-twentieth of the
whole; then comes a big share for the Government,
not less than two pennyworth; next we must give a
lumping bit to the brewer, about one-third, or four
pennyworth; and a fourth, or three pennyworth
to the retailer. This leaves twopence halfpennyworth
to represent the entire quantity of the barley required
to make the beer. Of this one halfpennyworth is lost
in malting, one pennyworth in brewing, one half-
pennyworth in fermentation, &c., when there remains
this miserable little slice of the loaf—just one-twenty-
fourth part of the whole—for the unfortunate beer
drinkers, who think that they are laying out their
money to good advantage in buying strong ale.”
Working men! When you look at the number of
Public Houses, Taverns, and Beer Shops throughout
the country, and the size, splendour, and cost of the
Gin Palaces in our large towns and cities, and
remember by whom they are all supported, can you
wonder at the wretched homes which fall to the lot
of so many of the Publican’s customers?—From
Temperance Placards, No. 5. Inserte
sion qf Messrs Cash, the Publishers,
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THE BRITISH WORKMAN
A PROPOSED STRIKE;
HOW TO KEEP THE MILLS GOING.
It would be a noble union if all who work would
strike—but against the dram shop and the beer
house; if they would make their weekly payments
—one of them to the savings’ bank or building
society; and if they would henceforth devote
their wages to the comfort and welfare of their
own families ! This is the good trades’ union, into
which the people of England should enter to a
man. A union in which the glittering piles of
gold and silver paid in wages weekly in the
United Kingdom would, like the “sweet dew
from heaven,” confer a blessing on all around,
About one million one hundred thousand
pounds sterling are weekly squandered in
intoxicating drink and tobacco by the working
classes of the United Kingdom. Imagine that
for a single week, no intoxicating liquors were
drunk, but that all this money were sent to
for cottons, calicoes, &c. What excitement there
would be on the exchange, giving and receiving
orders! How merrily would go the mills and
manufactories ! How the warehouses would be
filled with goods until nearly a thousand waggons
took them to the railway stations to be sent to
every town in the kingdom! Keep away from
the public-house another week, and send the next
for children’s dresses. What amazement as the
letters containing the orders were read! Bright
and beautiful the styles, and almost boundless the
quantities, that such an arrival of money would
produce! The third week send the £1,100,000 to
to buy woollens. Its coloured cloth-hall would
be cleared, and its village clothiers have in distant
years to tell their children’s children of a market
day, to which “they ne’er may see the like
again!” Send the fourth £1,100,000 to
for shawls for mothers and daughters. No
minstrel’s song tells of such an amount of trea-
sure being convoyed over the borders. Swiftly
would the shuttle fly, and long would there be
good times in Paisley! The fifth £1,100,000
might be sent to
for hosiery. Its artizans would require months
and months to complete so magnificent an order!
The sixth week’s might be sent to
All this long line
of glorious deeds
could be accom
plished in twelve
were the working
classes of the Uni’
ted Kingdom, for
that time to refrain
drink! What other
union would be so
freighted with com-
fort to innumerable
homes, overflowing with benefits to all!
From an excellent pamphlet, entitled “ Good
Times,” published by Groombridge, 3d. One of
the best threepennyworths of matter a working
man can purchase.—[Ed. B. W.]
A good old working man was once in company
with a fellow workman who occasionally introduced
into conversation the words, “ devil, deuce,” &c.,
and who at last took the name of God in vain.
“ Stop, Sir,” said the old man, “ I said nothing
while you only used freedom with the name of
your master, but I insist upon it that you use no
freedom with the name of mine.”
THE BAG OF GOLD;
THE NOBLE-HEARTED NAVVIE.
One of my own people, who worked on one of
the lines of railway with which I was connected
about twelve years since, so misconducted himself,
and was so bad an example to all his fellow-work-
men, that although he was most useful to me, I
felt bound to write and say, that unless there was
a change in his conduct I could not continue him
in my service. It so happened, while at work in
the south of England, upon one occasion a tract
was placed in his hands. He read it; deep con-
viction of his own sinfulness followed; he was in
such a state of mind for some time that it was
apprehended that he would be obliged to become
an inmate of a lunatic asylum, and his sense of
remorse was so dreadful, that he could not sustain
his own feelings and burden. At length the
ministry of the good man who gave him this tract
(for he was the minister of a small Congregational
church in the south of England) was blessed to him,
and he found peace. He was afterwards removed
to the north of England on other works. He then
felt it his duty to make known this salvation, which
had been so blessed to himself, amongst his fel-
low-workmen. That man at the present time is
in my employ, and a more honourable example of
an upright, conscientious Christian character,
and of public usefulness, I do not know. I may
mention one incident, which will show you how
blessed it is in its reflex influence when a man is
brought to a knowledge of salvation. The minis-
ter who gave him this tract, and whose ministry
was blessed to his conversion, lost his wife and
three children from a fever. This workman was
engaged more than one hundred miles away when
he heard of the painful event. He had saved
about fifty pounds by his labour. Immediately
he went to the south of England, and called on
the pious minister the day before the funeral of
his wife and children. I need not tell you that
their meeting was a very affecting one. I re-
ceived a letter from this minister, telling me what
was his astonishment to find, when this man
had left him, that a small bag, tied up, was laid
upon the table, containing fifty pounds. The
workman afterwards said, “ I should never have
been able to save this, if it had not been for your
giving me that tract, and for its after conse-
quences ; and I felt that the least I could do for
the great blessing God has vouchsafed to me, was
to give you of my personal substance, to show my
gratitude to Him and my love for you.”—Sir
Morton ‘Peto, Bart.
I. A good character is valuable to
every one, but especially to servants,
for it is their bread; and without it
they cannot be admitted into any
creditable family: and happy it is,
that the best of characters is in every
one’s power to deserve.
II. Engage yourself cautiously,
but stay long in your place: for long
service shews worth, as quitting a
good place through passion is a folly
which is always repented of too late
III. Never undertake any place
you are not qualified for; for pretend-
ing to what you do not understand
exposes yourself, and what is stiU
worse, deceives those whom you
IV. Preserve your fidelity ; for a
faithful servant is a jewel, for whom
no encouragement can be too great.
V. Adhere to the truth ; for false-
hood is detestable, and he that tells
one lie, must teU twenty more to
VI. Be strictly honest; for it is a
shame to be thought unworthy of
VII. Be modest in your behaviour;
for it becomes your station, and is
pleasing to your superiors.
VIII. Avoid pert answers; for
civil language is cheap, and imper-
tinence is provoking.
IX. Be clean In your business ; for
slovens and sluts are disrespectful
X. Never tell the affairs of the
family you belong to, for that is a sort
of treachery, and often makes mis-
chief ; but keep their secrets, and
have none of your own.
XI. Live friendly with your fel-
low-servants, for the contrary de-
stroys the peace of the house.
XII. Above all things, avoid
drunkenness; for it is an inlet to
vice, the ruin of your character, and
the destruction of your constitution.
XIII. Prefer a peaceful life with
moderate gains, to great advantages
XIV. Save your money, for that
will be a Mend to you in old age: be
not extravagant in dress ; nor marry
XV. Be careful of your master’s
property; for wastefulness is a sin.
XVI. Never swear; for that is a
sin without au excuse, as there is no
pleasure in it.
XVII. Be always ready to assist a
fellow servant; for good nature gains
the love of every one.
XVIII. Never stay when sent on
a message; for waiting long is pain-
ful to a master, and a quick return
XIX. Rise early, for it is difficult
to recover lost time.
XX. The servant that often
changes his or her place works only
to be poor; for the rolling stone
gathers no moss.
XXI. Be not fond of increasing
your acquaintance; for visiting leads j
you out of your business, robs your
master of your time, and often puts
you to an expence you cannot afford:
above all things, take care with
whom you are acquainted, for per-
sons are generally the better or
worse for the company they keep.
XXII. “When out of place, be cau-
tious where you lodge; for living in
a disreputable house, puts you upon
a footing with those that keep it,
however innocent you are yourself.
XXIII. Never go out of your busi-
ness, without the knowledge of the
family, lest in your absence you
should be wanted; leave is light;
and returning punctually at the
time you promised, shews obedience
and a proof of sobriety.
XXIV. If you are dissatisfied in
your place, mention your objections
modestly to your master or mistress,
and give a fair wamiDg; but don’t
neglect your business, nor behave ill
in order to provoke them to turn you
away; for this will be a blemish in
your character, which you must al-
ways have from the last place you
THE STRANGE PREACHER.
The message which the minister of the gospel
brings is indeed a strange message, and which
those who do not receive it cannot understand.
The following incident extracted from the “ Life
and Times of the Countess of Huntingdon,”
beautifully illustrates that gospel to which so
many are indifferent, and others despise, but
“ which is worthy of all acceptation.”
Some ladies called one Saturday morning to
pay a visit to Lady Huntingdon, and during the
visit her Ladyship inquired of them if they had
ever heard Mr. Whitefield preach! Upon being
answered in the negative, she said, “ I wish
you would hear him; he is to preach here to
They promised her Ladyship they would cer-
tainly attend—they were as good as their word:
and upon calling on the Monday morning on Lady
Huntingdon, she anxiously enquired if they had
heard Mr. Whitefield on the previous evening,
and how they liked him? The reply was, “O
my Lady, of all the preachers we ever heard he
is the most strange and unaccountable. Among
other preposterous things (would your Ladyship
believe it?) he declared that Jesus Christ was so
willing to receive sinners, that he did not object
to receive even the devil’s castaways! Now, my
Lady, did you ever hear of such a thing since you
were born?” To which her Ladyship made the
following reply: “There is something, I acknow-
ledge, a little singular in the invitation, and I do
not recollect to have’ever met with it before; but
as Mr. Whitefield is below in the parlour, we
will have him up, and let him answer for
Upon his entering the drawing-room, Lady
Huntingdon said, “ Mr. Whitefield, these ladies
have been preferring a very heavy charge against
you, and I thought it best that you should come
up and defend yourself: they say, that in your
sermon last evening, speaking of the willingness
of Jesus Christ to receive sinners, you expressed
yourself iu the following terms—‘ So ready is
Christ to receive sinners who come to Him, that
he is willing to receive the devil’s castaways.’”
Mr. Whitefield immediately replied, “I certain-
ly, my Lady, must plead guilty to the charge: whe-
ther I did what was right or otherwise, your Lady-
ship shall judge from the following circumstance.
Did^your Ladyship notice, about half an hour ago
a very modest single rap at the door ? It was
given by a poor, miserable looking, aged female,
who requested to speak with me. I desired her
to be shown into the parlour, when she accosted
me in the following manner:—‘ I believe, Sir, it
was you that preached last evening?’ ‘Yes, I did.’
‘ Ah, Sir, I was accidentally passing the door, and
hearing the voice of some one preaching, I did what
I have never been in the habit of doing—I went
in; and one of the first things I heard you say
was, that Jesus Christ was so willing to receive
sinners, that he did not object to receiving the
devil’s castaways. Now, Sir, I have been his
slave for many years, and am so worn out in his
service, that I think I may with truth be called
one of the devil’s castaways. Do you think, Sir,
that Jesus Christ would receive me ?’ I (said Mr.
Whitefield) assured her there was not a doubt of
it if she were but willing to go to Him.’”
From the sequel, it appeared that this was the
case, and that it ended in the sound conversion
of this poor creature; and Lady Huntingdon was
assured, from most respectable authority, that
the woman left a happy testimony behind her,
that, though her sins had been of a crimson hue,
the atoning blood of Christ had washed them
white as snow.
KINDNESS TO ANIMALS.
A man of kindness to his beast is kind,
But brutal actions shew a brutal mind;
Remember! He who made thee, made the brute;
Who gave thee speech and reason, formed him mute.
He can’t complain; but God’s all-seeing eye
Beholds thy cruelty. He hears his cry:
He was designed thy servant, not thy drudge;
And know—that his Creator is thy Judgo!
“ Thou shale plead for the dumb.”
Throw open the window, and fasten it there,
Fling the curtain aside, and the blind,
And give a free entrance to heaven’s pure air;
’Tis the life and the health of mankind.
Are you fond of coughs, colds, dyspepsia, and rheums,
Of headaches, and fevers, and chills ?
Of bitters, hot drops, and medicine fumes,
And bleeding, and blisters, and pills ?
Then be sure when you sleep that all air is shut out;
Place, too, a warm brick at your feet,
Put a bandage of flannel your neck quite about,
And cover your head with a sheet.
But would you avoid all forms of disease,
Then haste to the fresh open air,
Where your cheek may kindly be fanned by the breeze;
’Twill mako you well, happy, and fair.
Then open the window, and fasten it there,
Fling the curtain aside, and the blind,
And give free admission to heaven’s pure air;
’Tis life, light, and joy to mankind.
“MY WIFE IS THE CAUSE OF IT.”
It is now more than forty years ago that Mr.
L—–called at the house of Dr. B—–, one very
cold morning, on his way to H——. “ Sir,” said
the doctor, “ the weather is very frosty ; will you
not take ‘ something to drink’ before you start?”
In that early day ardent spirits were deemed
indispensable to warmth in winter. When com-
mencing a journey, and at every stopping-place
along the road, the traveller always used intoxi-
cating drinks to make him warm.
“ No,” said Mr. L.——, “ I never touch any-
thing of the kind, and I will tell you the reason—
my wife is the cause of it. I had been in the habit
of meeting some of our neighbours every evening,
for the purpose of playing cards. We assembled
at each other’s shop, and liquors were introduced.
After a while we met not so much for playing as
drinking, and I used to return home late in the
evening, more or less intoxicated. My wife always
met me at the door affectionately, and when I
chided her for sitting up so late for me, she kindly
replied, ‘ I prefer doing so, for I cannot sleep when
you are out.’ ”
“ This always troubled me. I wished in my
heart that she would only begin to scold me ; for
then I could have retorted, and relieved my con-
science. But she always met me with the same
gentle and loving spirit.
“ Things passed on thus for some time, when I
at last resolved that I would, by remaining very
late, and returning much intoxicated, provoke her
displeasure so much as to cause her to lecture me
when I meant to answer her with severity, and
thus, by creating another issue between us, un-
burden my bosom of its present trouble.
“ I returned in such a plight about four o’clock
in the morning. She met me at the door with
her usual tenderness, and said, ‘Come in, husband;
I have just been making a good fire for you, be-
cause I knew you would be cold. Take off your
boots and warm your feet, and here is a cup of
“ Doctor, that was too much. I could not en-
dure it any longer, and I resolved from that
moment, that I would never touch another drop
while I lived ; and I never will.”
He never did. He lived and died practising total
abstinence from all in-
That man was my
father, and that wo-
man my mother. The
fact above related I
received from the doc-
tor himself, when on
a visit to my native
village, not long since.
Were there more
wives like my blessed
mother, there would
be fewer confirmed
Uncorrected OCR-PAGE 4
THE BKITISH WORKMAN.
“HOW MUCH IN THE BANK?”
We rejoice to find that employers are everywhere
becoming alive to the importance of seeking to
promote the health, morals, and domestic com-
forts of the hands in their employ.
The numerous Libraries, Reading Rooms, and
Schools which are now to be found in connection
with factories in all parts of our country, are
pleasing signs of the times.
Some of the large London firms have within
the last few years adopted a miniature Savings’
Bank, on the following simple plan, which has
already produced the most gratifying results.
When the wages are paid on the Friday night,
each man is at liberty to leave on deposit a por-
tion of his wages, which being recorded by the
Pay-clerk, the sum is placed to the workman’s
credit in the ‘‘Savings’ Bank Ledger.” Each
Depositor has a Bank-book. The accounts are
balanced half-yearly, and interest added to the
A few years ago, one of the principals of a
London factory took a special interest in inquir-
ing how many of the men had anything put by
“ against a rainy day,” but he could not find
that one man out of fifty was a Savings’ Bank
depositor. “It is too far to go to the bank,”
said one; “ If you go you have to wait so long,”
said another; “ I have nothing to spare,” said a
“Let us have a bank of our own on the pre-
mises,” responded the gentleman.
The simple plan to which we have referred was
then adopted. Many of the hands who at one
time thought they could never save even a shil-
ling, can now, in reply to the occasional inquiry
of the principal, “ How much have you in the
bank,” cheerfully respond, “ Above .£10, sir.”
A working man with £10 or £20 on the right
side of his Bank-book will not be fast, as to how
he is to get a Sunday suit for himself, a good
gown for his wife, and warm clothing for his
Let employers and employed seek to promote
each other’s comfort and prosperity, and the
“good time coming,” of which so many have
sung, will ere long dawn on our land.
Let ns, who are working men* and who profess
to know something of our rights in, and duties on,
the Sabbath, inform the patriots of our day, that
our condition is not to be improved by any inno-
vation of its sacred injunctions.—D. Farquhar.
Threepence per day paid by a man aged twenty-
one years, will secure to him above £40 a year,
payable on his attaining the age of sixty, for the
remainder of his life.
There are several good Insurance Companies
which receive weekly and monthly payments.
He that overcomes his passions,
conquers his greatest enemies.
Sunday is not a day to feast
our bodies, but to feed our souls.
Never check the impulses of
conscience nor stifle its voice.
A penny saved is a penny
Go to the ant—consider her
ways and be wise.
Natubb clad in russet is
more agreeable than affectation
Should the labourer be disposed to invest his
Sabbath to acquire a surplus income, it would
not be long ere his Sabbath would be forgotten
and he required to toil seven days for six days’
pay .—John Browning, Shoemaker, London.
In many parts of the country, the mills are not
closed at noon on Saturday, thus giving to botl
employers and employed the boon of a weebl
half-holiday. This excellent arrangement ha
been found to work well. The payment of wage
on Friday is also gaining ground.
LORD PALMERSTON’S ADVICE
TO WORKING MEN.
“No home can be happy if the husband be not
a kind and affectionate husband, and a good
father to his children. Bearing this in mind, he
must avoid two great rocks on which too many
men in the humbler ranks make shipwreck,*—
the tobacco-shop and the beer-shop. The tobacco-
shop ruins his health and leads to all kinds of
disease. If he were a man living on a desert
island, and isolated from society, this might be a
matter of comparatively little importance, and he
might ruin his constitution just as he pleased $
but the labouring classes must remember that
their health and strength are the support of their
families, and if they ruin the one and recklessly
waste the other, they not only injure themselves,
but do irreparable damage to those who are de-
pending upon them. So much for the use of to-
bacco, which many to their detriment indulge in.
But the beer-shop and public-house go further,
because the habits there contracted, not only lead
to the degradation of the individual and the im-
poverishment of his family, but they lead to of-
fences and crimes which tend to place the man in
the condition of a felon and a convict. No man
who indulges in drink can fail to feel degraded
when he recovers from his intoxication, and that
sense of degradation leads him again to drown his
care in renewed intoxication, and from step to
step he falls into the lowest condition that human
nature can be degraded to.”— (From a speech de-
livered at Romsey, October 31 if, 1854.)
BANK EOR SAILORS.
Since the establishment of the Sailors’ Home in
Well Street, London Docks, in 1835, no less a sum
than £324,409 has been deposited in the bands
of the respected superintendent, by the Jack Tars
who have taken refuge in that valuable institution.
Of this sum £237,048 has again been withdrawn
by the men; £77,728 has been remitted to
“Jack’s” relatives and poor friends, and £9,633
invested in Savings’ Banks.
Ir is good to know much, but better to make good
use of wbat we know.
It is estimated that the Preston employers lost
through the strike of 1853,—first, in profits,
which would otherwise have been realized;
secondly, by non-receipts of interest on capital;
thirdly, by expences incurred in keeping their
machinery in order, and by other unremunerative
outlays, between £160,000 and £170,000. The
operatives have lost in wages (18,000 “hands”
averaging 10s each weekly, for thirty-six weeks)
more than £320,000. It is true that, while not
receiving wages, they were receiving an allow-
ance, which would lessen their losses; but this
allowance was contributed by other “opera-
tives,” &c., out of their wages. So that the
operative loss may stand at the above figure, and
indeed, be increased by about £15,000, thrown
away on the “management” of the funds. It is
difficult to calculate the loss to the shopkeepers,
&c., of the town, by the withdrawal of a weekly
circulation among them of from £8,000 to
£10,000, in wages alone; but from authentic
data there is no doubt that their actual loss by
the strike has exceeded £30,000. To these losses
must be added those sustained by parties whose
business depends more or less on transactions
with the employers, which cannot be put down
at less than £12,000 or £15,000; so that the
total money-loss can scarcely have been less than
KEEP ON THE RIGHT SIDE.
A Welshman, ■who was much addicted to intem-
perance, had a favourite goat, which on one
occasion followed him to the public-house. He
succeeded, after much coaxing, in getting the
goat to swallow some liquor. In a short time
the poor creature was completely intoxicated, and,
tumbling over and over, played such curious
antics, that the topers set up roars of laughter,
and begged that the billy-goat might be brought
the next night for more “ fun.”
When the next evening came, the goat was
called by his thoughtless master to accompany
him to his nightly resort. Billy walked very
quietly until they arrived at the door of the
publiC’house, when he stood still, and neither
kind words nor blows could
induce him to move a step
The landlord brought out
some cake, and tried to en-
tice the goat to follow him;
but no, he was not to be
caught in the publican’s
trap a second time. Billy
of course could not speak,
but his conduct seemed to
say, “ I’ll keep on the right
side of the public-house and
that is the outside.” It
proved one of the best Tem-
perance lectures ever given
in the village. The master
was so impressed, that he
was never known to enter
the public-house again!
Working men ! forget
not the poor goat; but, like
it, keep on the right side of
the public-house; that is,
Receive blessings with
thankfulness, and afflic-
tions with resignation.
The best practical moral
rule is never to do what we
should at any time be a-
Value a good conscience
more than praise.
The bodily rest of the Sabbath is one of the
greatest of earthly blessings—a mighty sea-wall
built up against the flood of our degradation—the
watch-tower of our earthly hopes—the fountain
of our strength and worth.—J. C. Ollerenshaw,
Gathering of riches is a pleasant torment.
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