were not tied down to regular hours, their labors being piece work.
They got webs from the larger manufacturers and the weaving was done
at home.

These were times of intense political excitement, and there was
frequently seen throughout the entire town, for a short time after the
midday meal, small groups of men with their aprons girt about them
discussing affairs of state. The names of Hume, Cobden, and Bright
were upon every one's tongue. I was often attracted, small as I was,
to these circles and was an earnest listener to the conversation,
which was wholly one-sided. The generally accepted conclusion was that
there must be a change. Clubs were formed among the townsfolk, and the
London newspapers were subscribed for. The leading editorials were
read every evening to the people, strangely enough, from one of the
pulpits of the town. My uncle, Bailie Morrison, was often the reader,
and, as the articles were commented upon by him and others after being
read, the meetings were quite exciting.

These political meetings were of frequent occurrence, and, as might be
expected, I was as deeply interested as any of the family and attended
many. One of my uncles or my father was generally to be heard. I
remember one evening my father addressed a large outdoor meeting in
the Pends. I had wedged my way in under the legs of the hearers, and
at one cheer louder than all the rest I could not restrain my
enthusiasm. Looking up to the man under whose legs I had found
protection I informed him that was my father speaking. He lifted me on
his shoulder and kept me there.

To another meeting I was taken by my father to hear John Bright, who
spoke in favor of J.B. Smith as the Liberal candidate for the Stirling