However, he again closed the door. Before I had time to pull the string again, I actually heard a knock myself at the door. I could also see that a person was standing outside. Now Jim must have determined to drop on somebody, and stationed himself behind the door, for as soon as he heard the knock which I also heard, he hurriedly opened the door, bounced into the open, and commenced to belabour mercilessly, with a stout cudgel, of which he had possessed himself, the “wretch ’at dared to knock at ’is door like that.” I sincerely congratulated myself that it wasn’t my tender carcase that Jim o’ Jack’s was playing with. The visitor hadn’t had time to announce himself: Jim didn’t allow that; but by-and-bye he managed to let Jim know who he was, and it turned out that he was a near neighbour. I believe they managed to “mak’ it up ageean.” At other times I would “toll” the door, and the poor old chap would rush unceremoniously into a gooseberry bush which I had before-hand placed on the door-step to give him a sort of porcupine reception.
BILL AND THE DONKEY
Still further, I recollect fastening a donkey to the handle of the door. I knocked, and got the donkey into my way of thinking: Billy would pull for dear life and Jim also would pull to the same end, and would remain a prisoner in his own citadel. I now feel sorry for Jim o’ Jack’s, I do. But a life of all play and no work would tend to make Bill a bad boy.
SCHOOL LIFE
I was packed off to school—the National School at Keighley, of which Mr. Balfrey was master. He was no doubt a learned man, having written several works, including a useful book, entitled “Old Father Thames,” which he published while he was at Keighley. For some time the master regarded me as his favourite pupil, but by writing uncouth verse and drawing questionable pictures bearing upon himself, during school hours, I got very much into disfavour with him. I don’t wish to say anything mean of Mr. Balfrey, but still he didn’t encourage native talent as he might have done: he might have been jealous, there’s no telling!
SENT TO THE MILL
After leaving the day school, I was sent to Lund’s mill, where my father was manager over the weft department. My school career did not finish at the National School, however. I attended a night school, which was held in a thatched cottage in Greengate and kept by a man of no small ability in the person of Mr. John Garnett. He was, I believe, of Scottish extract, and a great admirer of Burns into the bargain.
TAKING TO BURNS
He had generally a volume of Burns’ poems at his finger-ends and it was through him that I began to “take to” Burns and long to pay a visit to the Land o’ Cakes. I had subsequently the pleasure of fulfilling that visit.