We bought and put in the front room of our cottage, a register stove, three-feet square, the selling price was one shilling per inch, costing £1 15s., landlord supplying a new chimney piece, and we put up an iron oven in the back room, but we did not continue in that occupation very long, we spent four seasons of Christmas there, when, their son Henry being about to be married we had to leave and make room for the old people, who, by the way, had to make room for the younger ones. We agreed to go, and leave behind the stove which is still in the room, after forty years use. We took away the iron oven to another cottage, which I engaged of Mrs. Pleasance Knights at the rent of £4 10s. per year; at that time standing empty, the next tenement being also empty, they would not stand empty now if owners wished them occupied. This was rather a convenient old cottage, it supplied a room on the front side, which I could use for a workshop, which was a great accommodation, and at Christmas, that is on the 6th of January, 1842, we left Mr. George’s cottage, as requested, and took our goods and chattels to Mrs. Knights’s cottage, on the hill, and although it was sometimes a sad place for smoking, yet we had a good share of employment, and on the whole, although we met with some who were not at all times inclined to act uprightly, yet there was a good preponderance of honesty in the neighbourhood, men and women on whose acts and promises we could rely.
For several years I took out work from Mr. Winyard, so that there was no want of employment. Here again I must build a pigsty by the roadside, and it was soon inhabited, and by some thought to be too near the house, but we received no harm among the boots and wax and other materials; customers would talk and pigs would shriek the while, so that we were not always silent and sorrowful. The garden here contained several nice fruit trees, but no pear tree, another drawback was there was no water to the house, but we could have as much as we wanted by fetching it from Mrs. Knights’s across the road, and we could catch some in rainy weather. We purchased a shop stove, and made a hole through the brickwork into the chimney, so that we could often live on that side when the other room was smoky, we found the comfort of this as an impediment was removed. In the year 1840, I was appointed steward of an institution called the “Pakefield Friendly Society,” the duties of which was to receive the contributions of the members in my district, and also the applications for membership, and bring them up to the monthly meetings held at Lowestoft, on the first Tuesday evening of each month, from six to eight.
I was very successful in obtaining employment, worked closely, and began to have what might be said to be a good connection, so much so that I could not get through with it myself, and as customers’ patience began to wear out I set on James Jacobs as journeyman. My wife done a good part in helping on with the uppers, so that we went fairly into business and made long days of work. About this time there was a poor woman in Lowestoft, a Mrs. Parr, who was afflicted with insanity, and had become sometimes violent and almost unmanageable, we were asked if we would take the charge of her, and do our best to keep her from harm for a time, as they were afraid lest she might do harm to herself or to some other persons: my wife, after an interview with her medical attendant, Mr. Worthington, came to the conclusion that she would make the trial. The terms were fixed for board and attendance, and the money was duly paid at the house of Mr. B. Edmonds, a chemist, at Lowestoft. She came as arranged, my heart was overwhelmed to witness such a spectacle of human infirmity, of one whom I had known and who always appeared to be so cheerful and clever, but afflictions, though severe, are designed to bring about the purposes of Infinite Wisdom and Love; neither my wife nor myself rested much the first week: she sung, concocted rhymes and comparisons, for three days and three nights without sleep, we were supplied with a heavy chair for her use during the day, and an appliance called a muff, to secure her hands during the time she was in bed, otherwise she would have been gone when those in charge were taking a little rest in sleep, we many times wished we had not taken her, but being there she had to remain until other arrangements could be made. Her friends visited her and appeared satisfied though sorrowful, and after being with us one year, her friends arranged that she should be an indoor-patient at St. Luke’s Hospital, an institution in London, for the treatment of such cases; she was there for one year, and ultimately was removed to Melton Asylum, her last earthly residence.
Now is coming on the construction of a new railroad from Lowestoft to Reedham. Great preparations are being made, materials, and men, and horses, and implements, are deposited in the locality, besides temporary dwellings for the overlookers and gangers; we in this neighbourhood never having seen the like. It was a marvellous undertaking, but day by day we witnessed the skilful operations of the workmen, several of whom made their place of rest with us during the time the work was in progress, my wife cooking for them day by day, and otherwise preparing their food and making their beds.
Mr. Denniss, having built the rectory house, the school, appointed teachers, removed old buildings and various other things by way of improvement in our parish, to him assigned. In 1845, his effects were sold by public auction, and the man and his family took their departure after a brief stay of nine years. He was succeeded by Chas. Henry Cox, an earnest, solemn clergyman, whose aim was to “point us to brighter worlds, and lead the way.” He was the father of a large family, but his gentle and kind christian bearing told powerfully upon the minds of the people under his charge.
The dangerous operations of making the railroad was carried on, one of my lodgers was killed while making the road. I made a note of it at the time of the occurrence, which is this: Inquest held at Mr. Beaumont’s, Mutford Bridge, before J. E. Sparrowe, Esq., August 20th, 1846, on the body of John Smith, my esteemed lodger, who was unfortunately killed by a railroad waggon accidently passing over his body, on Tuesday, the 18th, a sad and painful event to those who witnessed it. In February of the following year, my wife’s mother was taken suddenly ill, and after a few hours expired, leaving a sorrowful family to mourn their loss, a mysterious dispensation of Divine Providence, unfathomable to us short-sighted mortals, but loudly speaking to all who have ears to hear, “Arise, depart, for this is not your rest.”
I had now plenty of work for myself and journeyman, my work suited the navvies as well as others, and I had also a good share of orders from the master, Mr. Kershaw, who generally undertook to supply boots to those that travelled with him, making railroads, according to the pattern worn by the men on the work. They also supplied slops, shirts, and caps, and almost all articles of food, as also that important beverage strong beer, for which they held an out-door licence, as those men were real guzzlers, and when the end of the fortnight arrived, they had not much money to take home to their lodgings. They were evidently not a saving class of men, and did not take much care about the salvation of their immortal souls. But that good philanthropist, Mr. Peto, the benefactor of Lowestoft and its neighbourhood, engaged Mr. Johnson, as a sort of home Missionary, to go amongst the people and speak a word of warning and of counsel to them, and also to distribute interesting books among them, which they could read or hear read at their lodgings. This was a very praiseworthy act of that generous man, who, although they could not recompense him, yet he will be recompensed at the resurrection of the just, for the which he is content to wait. In course of time the railroad was constructed to Reedham, to join the Yarmouth and Norwich line, and thence passengers and cattle were conveyed to the Metropolis.
Mr. Cox, our rector, was very assidious in his visits among his parishioners, and did as much as he could to ameliorate their condition, notwithstanding the claims of home, so that his visits were generally appreciated. He used to be absent from his home a week in two months, and it was said he had an engagement out, a duty to perform one Sunday in a month. On one of those outward distant attendances he was taken sick and died, and never came here again, his body was buried at Great Marlow, in Buckingham. Here then the shepherd was suddenly separated from his flock, the husband from the wife, and the father from his family, not knowing why they are thus bereft of a friend, a guide, and a counsellor; they are comforted to know that he is taken away in the midst of his usefulness, and that his happy spirit has passed through the gates of the New Jerusalem and joined the Church Triumphant above, where there are joys for evermore. Thus it pleases our Heavenly Father sometimes to gather his children at a comparatively early age, while others, who have a larger field of usefulness to occupy on earth, are detained from their crown, until full of years and good works. Each of these is then gathered “as a shock of corn cometh in in his season,” and further, here is the gracious assurance, “Even to your old age I am he, and even to hoary hairs will I carry you; I have made and I will bear, even I will carry and I will deliver you.”—Isaiah xlvi. 4.
The “Pakefield Friendly Society” had continued to flourish under well regulated management. Annual statements were made, and circulated amongst the members, the greatest number of whom is reported in 1855, exactly thirty years from its formation, the number being 363 while its highest amount of capital is reported in 1863, £4,964, and from that time the fund was each successive year reported to be less, and in 1868, five years later, was £4,288, £676 having been expended over its income, which told very plainly the society was not in a solvent condition. On the 11th day of June, 1850, several plots of building ground were offered for sale by auction, Messrs. Norton and Reeve were vendor’s solicitors, I bought two of those plots for the sum of £58, thinking perhaps I might erect a dwelling thereon, as I had hitherto been glad to hire a cottage for my use, but even in that matter I had been very fairly accommodated. I now took an apprentice, John Crowther, that he might learn to make boots, he was rather a sharp lad, and we got on together very fairly. Early in 1851, another new rector, Mr. Hunter Francis Fell, came to our parish, with four daughters, who very laudably acted as curates in taking the oversight of the parish, and carrying on the infants’ and adults’ schools with commendable and praiseworthy efforts.
I was now busily engaged in preparing to build two cottages and a workshop, having taken in 10,000 bricks the previous autumn that they might be ready for spring work. Mr. Saml. Neslen, of Lowestoft, was my carpenter, and Mr. Thomas Swatman, Sen., my bricklayer, we went in for building in good earnest, as something must be accomplished in the way of building by the roadside near Mutford Bridge. My wife’s youngest sister was appointed to attend the school as governess, but it was soon found her nerves were not sufficiently strong, her rest was broken, which threatened to undermine her health, my wife was invited to attend for a time, and see how her sister went on, she did not become at all strong, and consequently my wife was permanently engaged as mistress of the school, and I was engaged in superintending the building of cottages destined to become our future residence. This year was noted for the great exhibition in Hyde Park, the world’s fair. I had several invitations to go to witness that large gathering, but my time and money was required in other directions, thinking that building might be the only one that I should have an opportunity of ever again being engaged in on my own account. The new rector soon felt at home in the parish, ready to speak a healing word and perform a kind act, when he heard the voice of sorrow from without, for he knew that “the sorry of the world worketh death.” He was desirous that his flock should “abound in every thing in faith, utterance, knowledge, and in all diligence, and also in love.”