going away. Amongst the rest, Dr Rushton, the vicar of Blackburn,
and his lady, had come to see them off. Here a sweet little young
wife stood on the edge of the platform, with a pretty bareheaded
child in her arms, crying as if her heart would break. Her husband
now and then spoke a consoling word to her from the carriage window.
They had been noticed sharing their breakfast together at the
kitchen. A little farther on, a poor old Irishwoman was weeping
bitterly. The Rev. Mr Meaney went up to her, and said, "Now, Mrs
Davis, I thought you had more sense than to cry." "Oh," said a young
Irishwoman, standing beside her, "sure, she's losin' her son from
her." "Well," said the clergyman, cheeringly, "it's not your
husband, woman." "Ah, thin," replied the young woman, "sure, it's
all she has left of him." On the door of one compartment of the
carriage there was the following written label:--"Fragile, with
care." " How's this, Dennis?" said the Catholic priest to a young
fellow nearest the door; "I suppose it's because you're all Irishmen
inside there." In another compartment the lads kept popping their
heads out, one after another, shouting farewells to their relatives
and friends, after which they struck up, "There's a good time
coming!" One wag of a fellow suddenly called out to his wife on the
platform, "Aw say, Molly, just run for thoose tother breeches o'
mine. They'n come in rarely for weet weather." One of his companions
replied, "Thae knows hoo cannot get 'em, Jack. Th' pop-shops are
noan oppen yet." One hearty cheer arose as the train started, after
which the crowd dribbled away from the platform. I returned to the
soup kitchen, where the wives, children, and mothers of the men who
had gone were at breakfast in the inner compartment of the kitchen.
On the outer side of the partition five or six pinched-looking men
had straggled in to get their morning meal.