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” and “Jock o’ Hazeldean,” and they rewarded me with fifteen pence for my efforts, besides treating me to some light refreshment.
THE BAG MYSTERY
But I became anxious to join my travelling companion, whom I had left waiting outside—or who had left me waiting for him. So I bade the company “Adieu!” and quitted the tavern; but loo! my anonymous friend had vanished like a vision from my sight. I searched for him high and low in the “publics” at “the other end of the town,” but all in vain. Meanwhile it had begun to dawn upon me that the stranger wasn’t my friend at all. What greatly disheartened me was to know that he had my green bag, containing my stock-in-trade, in his possession wherever he was. This was a great blow to me. Having satisfied myself that he was not in Brighouse I pushed on my journey. I asked each person I met if he had seen a man with a green bag, but none of them seemed to remember having seen either a green bag or a man carrying one of those articles. I now began to think I was truly on my “last legs.”
AT WARP-DRESSING AGAIN
But I did not utterly forget the sentiment of Shakespeare—“There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.” I stayed the night at a little village called Kirkburton, and the following morning I walked to Clayton West. Here, I found out, a good deal of fancy weaving was carried on; and, looking at my case from all its bearings, I came to the conclusion that it was advisable for me to abandon my theatrical career, for the present at least, and try my hand at warp-dressing again. This was duly resolved upon. Accordingly, I applied at a factory at Clayton West, belonging I believe, to Mr Norton. I got employment without much trouble: luckily they were in want of a “man o’my sort.”