CHAPTER XVIII
SHORT TIME AND OVERTIME--“BACK TO THE LAND”--THE TOWN INFLUENCE--CHANGES AT THE WORKS--GRIEVANCES--THE POSITION OF LABOUR--ILLS AND REMEDIES--THE FUTURE OUTLOOK
Frequent spells of short time occur at the works, which are most certain to be followed by brisk and busy periods, as though the officials were anxious to make up for every moment of the previously lost time. It usually happens that the change is made direct from prosperity to adversity and _vice versa_. One week the machinery in the sheds is running day and night and every man is working unusual hours; the next, everything is changed. Short time is declared; only half the output will be needed and about half the time worked. Similarly, after a period of short weeks, a full-time notice is posted, and by the next night all the men are pell-mell on overtime, working as though they had but a few hours to live. Whether it is necessary or not is never ascertained; there is apparently an astounding want of order and foresight on the part of the managing staff.
It is remarkable that, notwithstanding the terrific nature of the hardships endured, the majority of the men at the factory do not show themselves seriously averse to the working of overtime. There is even satisfaction evinced at the prospect of putting in an extra day, or day and a half, a week, and drawing a few shillings more in wages. The few who dislike it from principle and on other grounds must swallow their objections and join in with the rest; whether they like it or not they are forced to follow the crowd. If a man refuses point-blank to work after the usual hours he is punished either with suspension from the shed or instant dismissal. Unfortunately for the good of the working classes generally, those who are satisfied with the ordinary rate of hours are insignificant in number. The highly-paid workmen and journeymen are about as unreasonable in the matter as are the lowest paid labourers. Very often they are the more insatiable of the two; they will put in any number of hours provided an opportunity is given them for so doing. The trade unionists are usually as well agreed as the others to work extra time; there is but very little difference discovered between them. No matter how loudly they declaim against the system and advocate the abolition of overtime, should the order be issued they commonly obey it with alacrity.
Occasionally, though not often, it is announced that the working of overtime may be optional. In the extreme heat of summer, when overtime at the fires is prevalent, the overseer may relax a little and cause it to be known that any who wish it may go home at the ordinary hour, but few take advantage of the offer. I have known those who were highly paid, on the hottest days of summer, to be so severely punished with the heat that they could scarcely stand at their posts, almost incapable of further effort and exhausted with the toil, yet though it was free for them to leave at the usual hour they would not go home. They cling to the shed as long as they possibly can; they have an unnatural fondness for the stench and smoke. Such as these are often teased and twitted and told to “bring their beds” with them, or an outspoken workman will tell them they ought to die and be buried on the premises.
A great part of the overtime, moreover, is not always genuinely necessary, but is artificially engineered in order to please this or that one and to provide someone or other with additional pocket-money. A few chargemen in every shed systematically nurse the overseer and entreat, or influence him, directly or otherwise, to allow them to work a few quarters, a Saturday afternoon, or a Sunday.
Very often, too, some of the men live in houses owned by their foreman. In that case a little overtime will expedite payment of the rent; it will not then be amiss to allow them to work a few quarters. The putting on a few new hands and the addition of a night shift would obviate much overtime and give the unemployed a chance, but the daymen are offended should that proposition be made. I have actually heard men volunteer to work double-handed at the fires and promise to turn out considerably increased quantities of work on their turn rather than for the foreman to run a night shift and so prevent them from working overtime.
The men’s takings at such times as these are fairly high. Some of the new hands are astonished when they receive their wages, with the piecework “balance” added, on a full week. One of them, in the days of the old foreman of the frame shed, was so aghast at the amount he had to draw he could not believe it was all intended for him; he thought there must be a mistake somewhere. Accordingly, holding the money in his hand, he went back to the foreman, and, in front of all the other men cried--“Be this all mine, sir?” The foreman, who happened to be in an ill-temper, cursed him for an idiot and promptly told him to “clear out.”
At another time, when the men were being paid on breaking up for Christmas holidays, a good-natured country lad, whose earnings were small, chanced by mistake to draw the wages of another, much more highly rated than himself, and, thinking the extras were intended for a Christmas-box, promptly went and laid out the money in presents for his mother and dad. He was quickly called to account, however, and had to refund the cash at once, and he furthermore received the imputation of being a sly rogue and a thief. Without doubt money is plentiful during overtime, though the extras are far from being all profit. It costs more to live. The workman requires more to eat and drink, more clothes, firing, light, and other sundries, to say nothing of the sacrifice of freedom and life.
It is little real gain to the workman, even though he have a trifle better food and clothing, a finer house and costlier furniture, while he has to work excessively long hours in order to pay for it. The more expensively he lives the more time he must spend in the smoke and stench of the shed and the greater must be his dependence upon his employer. He that lives simply in a modest cottage is much nearer to freedom than the other can ever hope to be, for he is bound down to life-long servitude. Every hour spent outside the factory walls is a precious addition to life; whoever willingly throws away the opportunity of enjoying it is guilty of the highest folly and negligence. He is the curtailer of his dearest rights and liberties, the forger of fetters for himself and his children after him, and the sooner the working classes can be brought to see this the better it will be for them.
There is a great deal of talk, chiefly with a political bias, about the sheds, of getting back to the land. Many of the men tell you they are sick of town life and conditions and would like to see themselves established upon a dozen acres of land far away from the noise of the factory, but they never make the slightest effort towards the consummation of the wish. The fact is that, notwithstanding all the punishments and hardships endured in the workshop, they are still strongly attached to it or to the life they are enabled to live by reason of it. They have no intention whatever at heart of changing their occupation. They are content to mix with the crowd, and are unable to withstand the novelty and excitement of the town existence.
During the many years I have spent in the works I have known of but one case in which a man left the shed to go back to the land as a small working farmer. He had always been careful and thrifty, and seemed to be well fitted for the agricultural life, but he could not succeed in it. After five or six years of hard labour, trying in vain to prosper, he returned to the shed, a disappointed and ruined man: he had spent his savings and lost the whole of his small capital. He is still working in the shed, and he has no intention of repeating the experiment. The wages at the works, though low as compared with those obtainable at other towns, are much higher than what the farm labourer receives. Youths of eighteen years of age in the sheds often draw more than the carter or cowman, who may have to maintain big families.
Consequently, while the cry of “Back to the land” is heard on all sides, there is at the same time a most passionate desire to get away from it and to come into the town to work and live; whoever is of the requisite age will be certain to appear at the factory gates to try and obtain admission there. The whole countryside, within a radius of six or eight miles of the town, is almost destitute of good strong workmen. Only the feeble and decrepit are left behind to work on the farms--those who cannot pass the physical tests and those who formerly worked in the factory and were discharged through old age or other causes of unfitness. Once a man becomes settled in the factory he is very reluctant to leave it. Notwithstanding the rigour of the system imposed, he usually remains there till the end of his working days, unless he happens to meet with an accident or dismissal. He soon loses his self-confidence and independent spirit. The world is considerably narrowed down in his view; he feels bound to the life with indissoluble fetters.
As for the work itself, men do that in the factory they would scorn to do outside or upon the farm. They would not be seen milking or “clod-hopping,” or carrying a yoke and pails, a truss of hay on their head, or a little pig in their arms, or driving cattle to market. At the same time they are not ashamed to scour down filthy roofs and windows, to do white-washing, to clean black and greasy engines, to wheel coal and ashes up or down the stage, to tar the axles and wheels of waggons and vehicles, to stand at the furnace or machine all day in a half-fainting condition choked with the smoke and dust of the shed; as though it were not more wholesome to have to do with cattle and crops than to be for ever penned up within four walls!
Although perhaps not as keen intellectually as are some of those who get their living in the town, and not receiving as much in wages, the best of the farm-hands are healthier, happier, and generally more well-to-do than are the factory labourers. At the same time, it is but natural that a man should desire to leave the country to come into the town. Though the work is much sharper and infinitely more painful while it lasts, the shorter hours and higher pay are powerful inducements for him to make the change. He will be free on Saturday afternoons, and there is no Sunday labour, while his wages will often be half as much again as what he would get on the farm. It is idle to say that the desertion of the countryside is a modern symptom; that has very little force, for it was always the same among highly civilised communities. The Greek husbandman left the soil and flocked to Athens to sit in the Agora, the Egyptians thronged the streets of Alexandria, and the Italians deserted the plough and sickle and crowded in Rome to see the circus games and other diversions of the “_Urbs Terrarum_.”
Those who, most of all, use the cry of “Back to the land” are they that obtain the highest wages in the sheds, and who are themselves the least likely to set the example. Men with families enlarge upon the blessings and privileges of agricultural life, but they take great care to get their sons started in the shed at the very earliest opportunity. As soon as they leave school they are brought along in knickerbockers and presented to the overseer, with the earnest hope of a speedy admission to work on the premises. I know of several cases in which workmen have been offered financial help in order to instal them in small-holdings, and they have refused point-blank. When I asked them the reason they replied that they “would rather go home at half-past five, if it made no difference,” and that is the crux of the whole matter. Not only this, there is the football match, the railway “Trip,” the privilege fares, the theatre, the cinematograph, the skating-rink, and the trams, all which must be sacrificed if the workman determines in favour of the simple life on the farm or small-holding. The class of men to secure for the land is the pick of the agricultural labourers, those who are uncontaminated with the life of the town; it is useless to think of reclaiming those who have once entered the factory and become established there.
Even very many of those who dwell outside the town are not content to spend their leisure in the village; in the evening and at week-ends they wash and dress and flock back to the street corners or parade up and down the thoroughfares. Innovations such as the cinematograph and the skating-rink, though harmless enough in some respects, are of little real value to the workman; with all their claims to be “educational” and “health-giving” the town could very well afford to dispense with them. There is little that is really manly and vigorous in roller-skating, and many of the cinematograph pictures serve only to indulge the craving for the novel and sensational. Half the boys of the shed, and even the infants of the town, can think of little but those ridiculously stupid and often debasing entertainments, of blood and thunder, crime, and mawkish love dramas; their minds are rendered quite incapable of imbibing sound and useful knowledge.
Even the trams, useful as they are, prove in several ways detrimental to the toiler and contribute to the restriction of his liberty. Scores of workmen I know wait at their doors or at street corners for five, and very often for ten minutes, in order to ride a distance of about a quarter of a mile. I have nothing to say against the habit provided the man can afford twopence or threepence a day for fares. At the same time, considered from the point of view of health, walking the distance would often be much better, and every copper needlessly spent by the worker tends to make him more and more dependent upon the shed. Where a man is engaged upon very hot and laborious work he is often too tired to walk home. The wages of such a one ought to be sufficiently high to enable him to make the journey in a taxicab, if he desired it.
Very different from this, however, is the lot of the small-holder. He must rise early all the year round--in summer and winter, light or dark, hot or cold weather. His work is not of five-and-a-half, but of six or seven days. Where cattle are kept there can be no such thing as a day off; dumb mouths must be fed and their needs ministered to. He has no trams to take him to work, very often no shelter from the storms and showers, no shade in summer and no steam-heated refuge in winter. His leisure is short, his companions few, his whole life laborious. But he is happy and strong, healthy, and vigorous in body and mind; he is in many ways a better man than is his _confrère_ of the town. Considerably more skill, knowledge, and human feeling are also required on the part of the carter, cowman, and shepherd in dealing with their teams, flocks, and herds, than in the case of those who merely superintend mechanical processes and have to do with lifeless blocks of iron and steel, yet the countrymen are more or less despised by the factory workers and are greatly deficient in wages. Low wages are given on the farm simply because it is the custom so to do; if the Government were to intervene and fix a higher rate the extra money would be paid as a matter of course. This is the only kind of reform that would really popularise work on the land from the point of view of the poor man and help to check the wholesale migration to the towns. Not until such improvements have been made will the labourer be willing heartily to respond to the cry of “Back to the land.”
One thing is especially to be deplored in the factory, and that is the serious lack of recognition and appreciation of the skilful and conscientious workman; there is very little inducement for anyone to make efforts in order to obtain better results at the steam-hammer or other machine. If a workman proves himself to be possessed of unusual skill and originality, instead of being rewarded for it he is boycotted and held in check. Even the managers are not above exhibiting the same petty feeling where they find their ideas have been eclipsed by those of less authority. It is their habit to think that anything they suggest is the best possible of its kind.
Whatever inventions are produced by the workmen, whether in leisure time or at the shed, become the property of the railway company; they claim the right of free and unrestricted use of all patents applied for by their employees. Consequently, if a workman discovers means by which he might assist the firm with a new process he holds his peace and troubles no more about it. He knows that he would not be thanked for the information, and he is also aware that if the scheme were adopted his prices would consequently be reduced. In more up to date sheds, and particularly in America, bonuses are given for the best work made and every man is induced, by all reasonable means, to think out new methods. An “idea box” is kept on the premises; every “happy thought” is written upon a form and slipped into this. The managers alone inspect the sheets and any suggestion considered worthy of being adopted is paid for.[4]
[4] Since these pages were penned the railway authorities have invited the workmen to submit to them any ideas they may have for the improvement of dies and plant, but, unfortunately, the local foreman still stands in the way and blocks progress. On the publication of the notice a workman of the shed put forward a brilliant and original idea in respect of a complex job upon which he was engaged, but the foreman promptly cut him short and told him he was a ---- fool, and there the matter ended.
Bonuses are paid to firemen and engine-drivers on the line for economy in fuel. The same plan might profitably be adopted in the factory. It is well-known that certain men invariably produce the best work. One furnaceman will waste as much again fuel as another. One machineman breaks no end of drills and tools. The work of this or that smith always looks rough and shoddy. One stamper spoils more dies in a year than another will in ten and often gets his work sent back, while the other does never. If the best men were the most highly paid there would be no just cause for complaint, but they are not. They are all classed the same. The incompetent receives as much as the competent and is usually held higher in esteem.
That great changes have taken place in regard to everything connected with the factory of late years is not to be disputed. Different schemes of work and other methods of dealing with the men have everywhere been introduced. New machinery has revolutionised many branches of the labour and it usually happens that where an appliance that saves 50 per cent. to the firm is adopted the men are hustled into double activity; the great delight of the managers is to boast of the large amount of work produced by a machine, and to add that “one man does it all.” In addition, prices all round are continually being sharpened; “balance” is earned with greater difficulty and only by increased effort. The officials declare openly that piecework balance is merely given to the men when they earn it without strenuous efforts; they will not admit the reasonableness of working with any degree of sanity and comfort.
As well as new machinery, which has revolutionised many branches of work in the factory, there are such things as fresh laws and regulations touching accidents and compensation for injuries, which have helped considerably to modify the tone and character of the sheds. Only those in perfect health are now admitted to the works; those possessed of flaws of any kind are rejected. The tests are almost as severe as are those used for recruiting for the Army and Navy, and young men are refused on account of the most trivial ailments and infirmities.
When a man shows signs of being subject to recurrent spells of sickness he is marked out as an undesirable; as soon as an opportunity comes he will be quietly shifted off the premises. If a workman falls ill he must not only satisfy the medical authorities at the works’ infirmary, and notify his foreman of the fact, but, after passing the doctor’s examination and clearing off the funds, he must present himself at one of the manager’s offices and be further interrogated before he is allowed to start again. This last-named examination is deeply resented by the rank and file, and many, though ill, continue at work when they ought to be at home because they do not like the irritating process of passing the test and the certainty of having something or other recorded against them.
In reality this is a system of espionage, a cowardly inquisition, but one that is in high favour with the foreman because it gives him the chance of getting rid of a man on so-called medical grounds without his suspecting that he has been discharged for other reasons. By this means the shed foreman may remove anyone against whom he has a grudge and he cannot well be blamed himself; the victim is told that he is “medically unfit,” and there is an end of it. The game is played by putting a private pen mark upon the official slip to be presented at the office. If the foreman desires to retain the workman he puts a private mark upon the paper, and if he wants to get rid of him and has not the courage to tell him so to his face the mark is omitted. This is so arranged in order that if the workman suspects that the paper contains something to his detriment and demands to see it, there shall be nothing that he can cavil at. The damaging thing is in that there is no sign upon it. Honest Mark Fell, who was one of the finest smiths that ever worked at a forge, an excellent time-keeper, and who was possessed of a grand character, died rather than go out on the sick list and be forced to pass the dreaded inquisition. He was run down with over-work, and was badly in need of a rest, but he did not like the idea of going to the offices. Accordingly he kept coming to work day after day, and grew weaker and weaker. When at last he did stay out it was too late; his strength and vitality were gone and he died within a week or two afterwards.
A decade and a half ago one could come to the shed fearlessly, and with perfect complacence; work was a pleasure in comparison with what it is now. It was not that the toil was easy, though, as a matter of fact, it was not so exhausting as it is at present, but there was an entirely different feeling prevalent. The workman was not watched and timed at every little operation, and he knew that as the job had been one day so it would be the next. Now, however, every day brings fresh troubles from some quarter or other. The supervisory staff has been doubled or trebled, and they must do something to justify their existence. Before the workman can recover from one shock he is visited with another; he is kept in a state of continual agitation and suspense which, in time, operate on his mind and temper and transform his whole character.
At one time old and experienced hands were trusted and respected, both by reason of their great knowledge of the work, acquired through many years, and as a kind of tacit recognition of their long connection with the firm, but now, when a man has been in the shed for twenty years, however young he may be, he is no longer wanted. There is now a very real desire to be rid of him. For one thing, his wages are high. In addition to this, he knows too much; he is not pliable. It is time he was shifted to make room for someone lower paid, more plastic and more ignorant of the inner working of things.
If a workman has a grievance it is useless for him to complain to the overseer, who is usually the cause of it, and if he takes it upon himself to go and see the manager he gets no redress. The manager always supports the foreman whether he has acted rightly or wrongly, and the man is remembered and branded as a malcontent; he will be carefully watched ever after. The safest way to quell a man is to keep him hard at work. While his nose is firm upon the grindstone there is no danger of his indulging in speculations of any kind; he could no more realise himself than he could hope to see the stars at midday.
While the men are inside the walls of the factory, they are under the most severe laws and restrictions, many of which are utterly ridiculous, and out of all reason considering the general circumstances of the toil and the conditions in vogue; they are indeed prisoners in every sense of the term. In the midst of the busiest period of hay-making and harvest-cart, ploughing or threshing, a short stop is always made for refreshment, or the labourer takes a crust of bread and cheese from his pocket and eats it at his work and is strengthened with it, but in the factory one must not be seen to crack a nut, or eat an apple or biscuit, much less to partake of any other food. If he should break the rule and be seen eating, he will be marked for it and told to “get a pass out and go home.” Four or five hours is a long time to keep up a strenuous pace at the fires. A half-way relaxation of ten minutes would be good for everyone; the workman would more than make up for it afterwards.
A regrettable dulness is discovered by very many of the men, which may be bred of the labour itself and the extremely monotonous conditions of the factory. There is little or no thought taken for the future, no knowledge of the value of life, and not much desire to know, either. The workmen do not think for themselves, and if you should be at the pains of pointing out anything for their benefit they will tell you that you are mad, or curse you for a Socialist. Anyone at the works who holds a view different from that expressed by the crowd is called a Socialist, rightly or wrongly; it would need an earthquake to rouse many of the men out of their apathy and indifference. It is more than education at fault. There is something wrong at the very roots of the tree. The whole system of life requires overhauling and revolutionising; the national character is become flat and stale.
I have already, in the first chapter, referred to labour unrest. That is the perfectly natural outcome of modern conditions of labour, the long spell of commercial prosperity, and of the spread of knowledge among the working classes. It is not to be viewed with misgiving at all, at any rate, not by those who can look intelligently into the future and brush aside the paltry prejudices that are common everywhere to-day. The very fact that working-men are rousing themselves and showing a masterly interest in problems of the hour, and are prepared to fight fairly and bravely for better conditions should be a source of satisfaction to everyone. It proves, at least, that they are awake and alive; that they have cast off torpor and stagnation and put on power and virility, and that is surely a good omen both for the future of democracy and for the nation at large. The extent of the riches of this country is so great as to be inconceivable to the workers; if they knew how much wealth there really is they would need to have no scruples in pressing with all their might for a fairer share in the profits of their labours. Where the pace is so much faster and the output considerably increased it is natural that there should be a demand for higher wages and shorter hours. More leisure and rest are absolutely indispensable in order properly to recuperate for the increased demands made upon the workmen’s physical powers. The difficulties of forming agreements with the men are not nearly as great as they are represented to be. Drastic changes could be made with but very little inconvenience or loss to the firm; the transition would be almost imperceptible.
The idea that the general factory week should be completed in five turns, the day shifts to finish working by Friday night, and the night shifts to complete their toils by Saturday morning, has long been in my mind. The having two clear days of leisure would give the worker an opportunity of entirely shaking off the effects of confinement in the shed at the week-end, and of starting work a new man on the Monday morning. It is impossible for one to recuperate sufficiently in the short space of time at present allowed; he is never free from the effects of the hurry and speed of the machinery. There is, moreover, no time to get away from the shadow and ugliness of the factory walls and to make the acquaintance of other scenes in the country round about. When the sheds are closed on Saturdays for short time, crowds of workers either leave the town on foot and walk around the adjacent villages, enjoying the fresh, pure air, or take short trips by the train and come back strengthened with the change; you hear many a one say, during the following week, that he feels extra fit and well.
If a week of forty-eight hours were divided out and completed in five turns, instead of six, it would be both popular with the men and economical for the employers. The fuel and light, the cost of steaming up the boilers and the general wear and tear of machinery on the sixth turn and for several hours a day besides would be saved, and there would be about an equivalent amount of work produced. It is useless for critics and calculators to come forward with figures and quotations to disprove the statement and show its impossibility; I have worked in the shed long enough to understand the true significance of things. What is more, the workman is not, and never will be a mathematical machine; his efforts and powers are not to be calculated by the set rules of arithmetic.
The whole trend of things in the industrial world is towards shorter hours, better wages, and a greater proportion of liberty for the workman; all the objections that can be raised and schemes devised will not stop the progressive movement. Sooner or later the barriers must give way, and the goal will have been reached; the wonder then will be that the change was not effected earlier. I would bid all toilers and moilers, in and out of factories, to be of good hope and cheer, to fight on and press steadily forward; victory will be certain to follow. At the same time, one must not expect to arrive at an utter immunity from hardships, nor, perhaps, will the whole of the differences between capital and labour ever be absolutely removed and every problem solved. Many conditions, however, will most certainly have been bettered, many disputes settled and evils overcome, and this, it will be confessed, is worth living and hoping for.
APPENDIX
Table of average day wages per week of fifty-four hours paid to men employed at Swindon Railway Works, July 1914:--
Foremen 70s. Foremen, Assistant 50s. Draughtsmen 35s. Clerks, Monthly Staff 30s. Clerks, Shop 25s. Forgemen 33s. Smiths 33s. Rolling Mills Men 30s. Furnacemen 28s. Stampers 28s. Stampers’ Assistants 22s. Smiths’ Strikers 22s. Pattern-makers 35s. Boilermakers 34s. Fitters and Turners 34s. Fitters, Engine 34s. Fitters, Carriage 28s. Die-sinkers 34s. Coppersmiths 30s. Tinsmiths 30s. Moulders 26s. Wheel Turners 24s. Machinemen, General 24s. Carriage Body-makers 30s. Carriage Finishers 28s. Waggon-builders 28s. Road-Waggon Builders 28s. Carpenters 28s. Painters 26s. Saw Mills, Timber 24s. Riveters 26s. Bricklayers 28s. Labourers, Skilled 22s. Labourers, Unskilled 20s. Labourers, Fitters’ 21s. Storekeepers 23s.
INDEX
Abingdon, 44
Accident, 14, 243
Accumulators, 149
Africa, 92
Agora, 298
“Ajax,” 141
Alexandria, 298
All Fools’ Day, 270
America, 92, 102, 150, 301
Annealed, 21
Antiquated, 25
Antonio, 234
Apprentices (smiths), 90
Aquatic plants, 44
Archæologist, 177
Army, 77, 302
Ash-wheelers, 47
Athens, 298
Athletes, 63
Atlantic, 139, 169
Atlas, 73
Avon, river, 22, 45
Axles, 20
“Back to the Land,” 296
Balance, 283
Balance-week, 254
Balling-up, 17
Bank Holidays, 245
Battleship, 110
Bays, 10
Beam-engine, 151
Beltage, 100
Besom, 85
Bible, 32
“Big Firm,” 256
Birmingham, 92, 151
Bogies, 11
Boilers, 136
Boilersmiths, 74, 113
Bonuses, 301
Borough, 18
Boss, 134
“Black List,” 230
Blast-furnace, 116
Blood-poisoning, 213
Bloom, 108
“Blower,” 150
Bricklayers, 48
Bricklayers’ labourers, 49
Bridge, of furnace, 46
Bristol, 13, 44
Broad-gauge, 67
Broadway, Hammersmith, 238
“Bucket of blast,” 281
Buffalo Bill, 77, 156
Buffer, 23
Bullion van, 70
“Bummer,” 134
Burns, 19
Burs, 23
Cabin, 25
Cæsar, Julius, 264
Callipers, 102
Canada, 228
Canvas belts, 147
Cape of Good Hope, 102
Capitalist, 2
Carlyle, Thomas, 237
Carriage body-makers, 56
Carriage finishers, 38
Cassius, 264
_Castellum_, 12
Casuals, 69
Catastrophe, 38
Ceremonious, 57
Ceylon, 157
Chalk-pits, 13
Channel Islands, 173
Chargeman, 282
Charities, 97
Cheapjack, 173
Check-box, 130
_Chelidon_, 263
Cheltenham, 92
Chemicals, 33
China, 102, 157, 173
Cinematograph, 298
Cirencester, 13
Clay-pits, 262
Clinkering, 46
“Clod-hopping,” 297
Coal-heavers, 14
Coffee stalls, 129
Compensation, 227
Compressed air, 172
Condensation, 11
Consumption, 126
Contraband, 31
Corporation, 62
Cotswold Hills, 45
Cottage Hospital, 97
Countershaft, 145
Covered goods waggons, 71
“Cow-banging,” 279
Cramp, 94
Cricklade, 44
Cushion-beaters, 41
Cutting-down, 68
Cyclops, 208
Cylinder, 18
Deadwood Dick, 77
Dee, river, 22
Democracy, 294
Detectives, 37
Detonators, 23
“Diagonals,” 23
Dinner-can, 112
“Discontent,” 4
“Dolly,” 69
Donkey-engine, 150
Donkey-man, 109
Door-boy, 110
Dorsetshire, 247
Double-handed, 306
Dowlais, 173
Draughtsmen, 133
Dredger, 45
Drop-stamp, 153
Dumb-bells, 144
Durham, 92
Earthquake, 18
Ebony, 15
Educational Authority, 289
Egypt, 173
Egyptians, 298
Electricity in belts, 147
Engine-cranks, 104
Entrenchment, 13
Erin, 173
Espionage, 303
Examination, 93
Excursionists, 26
Exhaust of engines, 63
Exhibition, 88
Ex-Hussar, 73
Explosions, 36
Fable, 133
Factory Acts, 74
Factory system, 103
Falstaffian, 181
Fan, 145
Feed-pipes, 210
Feudal times, 1
Fire-engine, 33
Fires, 34
First Aid Men, 244
Fitters, 101
“Flatter,” 21
Flying Dutchman, 68
Fogmen, 23
“Foreigners,” 86
Forgemen, 106
Forging, 18
Fortress, 11
Foundry, 116
France, 150
Freight trains, 123
“Fuller,” 21
Gallery-men, 87
Gauge-glass, 166
Gazing-stock, 186
Geological data, 50
Germany, 20, 150
Gloucester, 44, 92
Government, 8, 300
Greeks, 1, 289
Grindstones, bursting of, 152
Grossness of atmosphere, 249
Gun barrel, 17
Hammer-driver, 107
Hammersmith, 237
Heavy-weights, 73
_Hecuba_, 290
“Hell Corner,” 142
Hercules, 52
Hereditary, 91
Hibernian, 182
Historical relics, 288
Holder-up, 69
Hooter, 125
Horatian, 290
Horse-rake, 266
Hustle, 183
Hydraulic work, 171
Idea-box, 301
“Ierky,” 59
Improvers, 90
Incendiarism, 34
Inferno, 208
Injector, 215
Inquiry office, 276
Inquisition, 303
Irishmen, 173
“Ironopolis,” 105
Italians, 298
Jackboots, 17, 111
Jam, 148
“Jaw-breakers,” 285
Jefferies, Richard, 12
“Jersey Lily,” 173
Jesus Christ, 246
Jew’s harp, 166
“Jogglers,” 82
“Joggling,” 14
John Bright, 236
Journals, axle, 13
Justin M‘Carthy, 238
Kennet, river, 22
Labour unrest, 1
“Lambs,” 177
Lancaster, 92
Latin, 289
Laughing-stock, 29
Lean-to, 142
Library, 248
Liddington Hill, 12
Lightning, 10
Literary Society, 135
Liverpool, 92
“Loco” boiler, 164
Loitering, 29
London, 44, 45, 68
Magnesia, 166
Malcontent, 305
Malleable steel, 103
Mallet, 83
Marines, 232
Mark Fell, 304
Mars, 219
May-pole, 63
Medical Report, 242
Mediterranean, 263
Merchant of Venice, 234
Mess-rooms, 262
Middlesborough, 105, 173
Midlands, 105, 155
Militia, 174
Mines, 1
Molière, 154
“Monday-fied,” 257
“Monkey,” of hammer, 109
Monsieur Jourdain, 154
Monthly staff, 133
Motherwell, 173
Moulders, 119
Mrs Langtry, 237
Mulatto, 174
Municipalities, 2
Mushrooms, 221
Narrow-gauge, 67
Navy, 77, 143, 302
Newcastle, 116
New Testament, 290
New Year’s Eve, 271
Nicknames, 77
Night shift, 206
“Nobbling,” 113
Oatmeal, 261
Obsequious, 275
Officialism, 7
Oileus, Ajax, 141
Oil furnace, 3, 139
Oscar Wilde, 237
Output, 5
Overalls, 101
Overseer, 7
Overtime, 292
Oxford, 13
Painters, 38
Palmy days, 21
Pandemonium, 71, 135
Paris, 158
Parliament, 8
Parrot, river, 22
_Passeres_, 263
_Pater familias_, 127
Pattern-makers, 38
Pay-day, 253
Pension, 32
Percentage, 51, 283
Piece-work inspector, 134
Piers and panels, 10
Pig iron, 117
“Piles,” 16
Platers, boiler, 113
Pneumatic riveting machine, 70
Police Court, 53
Politics, 287
Porter-bar, 105
“Pride o’ the Prairie,” 198
Provocation, 4
“Puddling,” 17
“Puller-up,” 71
Pull-rod, 201
Punishment, 15
Pushfulness, 53
Railway Institute, 248
“Ram,” 104, 143
“Rasher-waggon,” 111
References, 276
Refrigerator van, 70
Repairs, 37
“Riddle,” 83
River Liffey, 155
Rivet-boys, 75
Road-waggon builder, 54
Rolling mills, 15
Romans, 1, 85
Rome, 298
Rooks, 263
Rotherham, 92
Royal train, 233
Rubbish heap, 61
Ruffianism, 56
Salisbury, 157
Sanitary, 32
Scientist, 20
Scotland, 13, 20, 105
Scrap-waggons, 21
Serfs, 1
“Set-tool,” 82
Severn, 22
Shear-off (bur), 172
Sheer-legs, 14
Sheffield, 13, 92, 105
Shingling, 16
Shop clerks, 133
Shunters, 25
Shylock, 234
Sick and Medical Fund, 253
Signalmen, 68, 124
Skating-rink, 298
Skulker, 47
Slag, 171
Smithy, 82
Smoke-box, 115
Smoking, 27
Smudging, 37
“Snap” (rivet), 78
Sneak, 31
Snowstorm, 121
Socialist, 36
Sole-bar, 67
Sop, 5
Speeding-up, 5
Stamping, 98
State, 8
Steam-saw, 16
Steamship Company, 2
Stoppage week, 254
Storekeeper, 239
“Strappie,” 148
Sunderland, 116, 179
Supper-hour, 215
Surgery, 281
“Swanker,” 265
Tamar, river, 22
Tarpaulin, 22
Taxicab, 299
Teak, 13
Telamon, 141
“Tell-tale,” 28
Tennyson, 237
Thales, 1
Thames, river, 22, 45
Theft, 30, 81
Throw-off (wheels), 152
“Ticket,” 131
Tipperary, 182
_Titanic_, 191
Titans, 139
“Toe-punch,” 281
T pieces, 20
Towy, river, 22
Trades Union, 2, 102
Trams, 299
Transfer, 40, 43
Transport, 44
Transvaal, 173
Traversing Table, 161
Trespassers, 67
Trimmer, 210
“Trip,” 245
Troy, 141
Tubing (boilers), 113
Tug-of-war, 73
Tyres, 13
Uffington, 233
Ugliness, 12
Under-strapper, 61
“Undesirables,” 289
Upholsterers, 38
Up-setting, 142
Vacuum arrangement, 41
Ventilation, 10
Viaduct, 22
Virgil, 1
Wages, 5
Wales, 179, 181
Washer, 21
Washing-down, 37
Waster, 279
Watchmen, 25
Water-closet, 32
Water-gas, 220
Water-pipe, 270
Weather-vane, 260
Weekly staff, 133
Welsh pits, 14
West Indies, 173
Weymouth, 247
Wheel shed, 57
Whistler, the artist, 237
Wiltshire, 158
Witney, 13
Worcester, 92
Works’ Institute, 135
Wye, river, 22
Yankee hammers, 133
_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
A WILTSHIRE VILLAGE
BY ALFRED WILLIAMS
“We have found it a gentle and continuous delight. To the reader it can hardly be anything but a joy to find the old village life, which perhaps he himself remembers, set down so fairly and fully, with the charge of monotony roundly dismissed and all the events and pleasures recorded.... Wonderful little descriptions. Here is a vivid portrait that will seem to many like that of an old friend--Jemmy Boulton, the carter.... We knew and loved him ever so many years ago. And it is because Mr Williams knows and loves him, as he knows and loves the woods and waters, the plants and the beasts, that he makes a country-side live for us again as it still is here and there, as it will not be anywhere for long.”--_Times._
“Here is one who has never been drawn from his allegiance to the country-side by the allurements of big cities. An extremely interesting book, concerned not only with village life, but wandering far afield to the advantage of the thoughtful reader. The beauty of his descriptions, the quiet dignity of his well-considered inclusion of details, the manner of introducing us to this ‘character’ and that, call for appreciation, and the reader closes with reluctance a fascinatingly discursive record which he has followed with genuine pleasure and unabated interest.”--_Country Life._
“He brings to bear the same observation and love of nature which are the salient features of his delightful ‘Poems.’ There is in him much quaint lore and wide knowledge of birds and animals. He has many good things to say on this subject.”--_Evening Standard._
“A book which is as charming as it is uncommon. Makes a deep appeal to the naturalist and lover of the country. Mr Williams writes of what he knows, and that fact adds a special value to his book.”--_Field._
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“Written from personal experience and with the closest observation. Those whose interests are centred on rural matters generally will take a keen delight in it. There is food for much reflection in this volume; and be it noted that sincerity runs like a golden thread through every page.”--_Daily Chronicle._
_Crown 8vo, 305+xvi pages. 5s. net, postage 4d._
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_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
VILLAGES OF THE WHITE HORSE
BY ALFRED WILLIAMS
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_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
COR CORDIUM
BY ALFRED WILLIAMS
“_Cor Cordium_ confirms Mr Alfred Williams’ remarkable position among writers of contemporary verse. It has all his sincerity and clear vision. We prefer his ecstatic reckless lyrics to the longer poems, in which he gives us nineteenth-century philosophy in admirable eighteenth century verse.”--_Manchester Guardian._
“Mr Alfred Williams’ position as a poet is fully established.”--_Times._
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“Mr Williams is a simple and a genuine poet, simple because he is not tempted away into decorative effects alien from the spontaneity of his lyrical impulse, and genuine because he breathes the utmost strength of his spirit into every line and phrase. He is circumscribed neither in the concentration nor the intensity of this impulse, but in its range. The energy and feeling which quicken his expression are sufficient in themselves to create a responsiveness in the reader which registers the vicissitudes in the mood and sensibilities of the poet. That is a great quality. Mr Williams’ strength lies in the clear and exquisite treatment of a common sentiment.”--_The Nation._
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_Large 8vo, 82 pages. 3s. 6d. net, postage 3d._
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_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
NATURE AND OTHER POEMS
BY ALFRED WILLIAMS
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“There is movement, joy of life, strenuous bliss of existence throughout the book; it is a real and rare pleasure to read.”--_Poetry Review._
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“Written in glowing strains of rare quality.”--_Publishers’ Circular._
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“Those who read the other books of this man, who has triumphed over circumstances so remarkably, will know that pleasure awaits them on every page.”--_Outlook._
“Works of high merit. Remarkable human documents.”--_Swindon Advertiser._
“Mr Williams is a singer whom we should place very high.”--_Literary Monthly._
_Large 8vo, 90 pages. 3s. 6d. net, postage 3d._
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