I had often an opportunity of conversing with John Adams, the elder (a working maltster on the establishment), and his good wife, both members of a Christian church, who were seeking to walk in the ways of the Lord. I also felt a longing desire to follow in their steps, as they were following Christ, our Great Redeemer, the infinite freeness, and the unspeakable preciousness of his electing love. Why were any chosen, when all might justly have been passed by? Because he was resolved, for His own name’s sake, to make known the riches of His glory on the vessels of mercy, whom He therefore prepared unto grace and glory.
Thus, then, the summer of 1833 passed away. The garden crops had been very fair, and the orchard crops were abundant. I revelled among the apples, plums, pears and walnuts, day after day, when the weather was suitable. In process of time, they were stored, as a supply for the family during the approaching winter, and, moreover, I engaged to remain with the family another year.
The storage of potatoes now commenced. A large space had been planted, and now they must be gathered in. Happily, there were no traces of that fearful blight, which have been so prevalent in these latter years, and which we trust will speedily be removed by the interposition of a kind and merciful God, who assuredly doeth all things well, as the preservation of our lives and health abundantly testify, rejoicing our hearts as we are permitted to gather in the superabundant blessings bestowed by the Fatherly hand of the Giver of all good.
The spring succeeded; the ground required preparation, and for crops to be got in no time must now be lost, and, with the assistance of a man now and again, to do some of the heavy digging, and by perseverance, favoured with a continuation of health, and other blessings, I felt that the onward course was somewhat cheerful, rejoicing in the notes of the peacock, the cuckoo, the nightingale, and others of the feathered throng by which we were surrounded.
It was in this place that I first saw my future wife. She had come into the same service as housemaid, and Mary Ann Newson (the future wife of George Anguish) as cook and dairymaid. Very industrious servants they were, considering Oulton Hall was not the best constructed residence. There was a flight of stairs from the kitchen, but they led to the mistress and master’s room. I was only permitted to pass through that room by special license, at other times having to pass through the parlour on my way to a corridor which led to my bedroom: the family had not then retired to rest. We had reading and prayers at half past eight o’clock, then I had to go out and see if all was right, and pass quietly to bed at nine. There was always plenty of work requiring to be done—horses and chaises to be attended to, going out when ordered, gravel and grass in front to keep in order, crops in garden to keep up in succession, weeds to keep down, walks to keep neat, fruit to protect from a hundred and one enemies, against some of which I had to wage war, and make their destruction sure, no longer to cause any annoyance.
The season of summer quickly passed away, and the 11th of October, 1834, arrived, when my agreement expired, as also did the female servants’, and new situations were now sought. For myself, I thought I would turn my attention to the boot line, at Lowestoft, but soon found my work would not pass, as being not altogether suitable for town inspection, consequently, I agreed with Mr. R. Winyard, a practical bootmaker, of the High-street, to club myself to him for one year, he to find me all the work I could fairly do, and himself to instruct me in the art, where he saw my knowledge defective. My future wife (Hannah Cox) obtained a situation as housemaid in the family of E. Norton, Esq., solicitor, London Road.
There had been two young men, just before, in the service of Mr. Winyard, who had sickened and died. This was rather a singular, as also a discouraging circumstance, yet I thought if the good Lord was pleased to continue unto me good health, I would try to do my best, so that I should be able in future to obtain employment. I soon found my work had to pass through a different process to what I had been accustomed. The master was patient, and set before me what he considered correct lines, in preference to those which I had acquired in the country, for although he had served his apprenticeship in the country at the time I was serving, but not with the same master, yet, after his time expired, he worked in large manufacturing towns, such as Norwich, Northampton, Cambridge, and Bedford, from which latter place he brought his wife, and settled down in Lowestoft, and obtained a good fair share of the work of that town.
As to myself, my means were rather limited. I found I must adhere to economy. I lodged in the master’s house, so that when business was urgent, I could rise early and attend to it, and had not to wait for anyone to let me in. This was rather an advantage, which was duly appreciated, whether in winter or summer. Our principal work was Wellington boots and Bluchers. I came in for a good share of this work, as there was also a man from Norwich, who done the women’s work, and there was likewise a good share of blocking done by me. That was a process I had not witnessed during my apprenticeship. It was to strain the fronts of Wellingtons and other boots, so that they might fit and set close upon the instep, clean and even, that the boot might be comfortable and smart when it was worn.
There was another bootmaker on the opposite side of the street, and there he exhibited a show boot. The fingers of our Norwich man seemed eager to tear this unnecessary appendage from its not very lofty position. It was decided that down it must come. There were no policemen in Lowestoft at this time, otherwise our steps would have been more marked with prudence. A ladder was marked out at a building, and about midnight Mr. Palmer’s elegant boot went speedily down the turnpike, its mutilated remains being subsequently found in a garden in that direction, never more to be restored to its former position, however much it might be needed.
This was to me an obscure and hazy atmosphere; the family did not reverence the Lord; there was not that veneration for the Sabbath, to which I had been accustomed, the motto most absorbing was working, eating, and drinking, but I had an upper room to myself and when the day’s business was over, I enjoyed that retirement so desirable and refreshing to all God’s children. I preserved in the business, under the instruction of the master.