Some years ago there appeared in Punch sundry sketches of incidents in the mining districts. These may not all be true in the sense that the occurrences represented actually took place. But there is a spirit of truth in them, in that they illustrate a phase of the rudeness that often accompanies untutored tastes and undesirable habits.
The appearance of a stranger in the mining village, especially if he happens to wear a black cloth coat, is sometimes resented by the denizens of the place.
The new curate, a meek-looking individual, had arrived, and passing the corner of a street where a group of colliers had assembled, one of them asked:
"Bill, who's yon mon staring about him like a lost cat?"
"Nay, I doan't know," replied the other, "a stranger belike."
"Stranger, is he?" responded the first, "then hey've a hauve brick at 'im!"
The same, accosting one of his flock resting on a gate, and wishing to make himself agreeable, tried to open a conversation with the remark: