Recollections of a Tradesman

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RECOLLECTIONS OF A TRADESMAN. BY JOSHUA VERNAL. *' How sweet it is in twilight shade, To tread the scenes of earliest youth, When all that then our bosoms sway'd, Was joy, and innocence, and truth. The trees — the streams — the thrush's song- Recall the visions which had fled ; And recollections, absent long, Return, and dwell upon the dead ! " Mont. LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO. BIRMINGHAM : EICHAED L. GREW, 27, TEMPLE ROW. 1864. BIRMINGHAM : PRINTED AT THE OFFICES OF MARTIN BILLING, SON, AND CO., LIVERY 8TBEET.

Preface

. I have snatched the hours which were necessary to compose the following Recollections from the cares and anxieties of business. I have somewhere read that when the mind is over-burdened with one set of thoughts which by constant recurrence become oppressive, the best and most certain cure is to force it to occupy itself with another class of ideas. With this intention I began the following papers. I found the plan eminently successful. My mind was relieved, and sometimes exhilarated, 'by the thoughts and fancies it had raised. To the public I submit the following sketches, in the hope they will see in the circumstances an excuse for whatever rugged ness and want of finish there may be. I cannot do this with indifference, but I confidently believe they will censure with judgment where censure is deserved, and forgive where there has been too much presumption.

The scenes have been laid in Birmingham, but the characters have been culled in many parts of the kingdom. It appeared to me when I began my task, that the locality must be somewhere either in Fancidale, Imagehill, Bonville, or in some other part of Airshire, or in a real land. Birmingham, I thought, would appear to give an air of fact to the fictions, therefore was it PBEFACE. chosen. There was another reason ; part of these Recollections appeared in a local paper — to the Editor of which I here express my hearty acknowledgments. I have striven throughout the work to expose abuses, which I hope I shall see corrected, either by their own excesses, or by the strong hand of power. Whatever profit such abuses may yield to one side, there is a large crop of wrong and misery, and too often ruin, on the other.

I have also endeavoured to inculcate such lessons as I believe the world will be none the worse for practising. I now submit the work to the approbation or censure of the public. If I were to say I am indifferent to the one, I should not express the genuine sentiments of my mind, and I hope I shall be corrected rather than offended by the other. At any rate, I adopt the language of Old Joe, " Trust in the Lord, Master John, trust in the Lord ; if your deeds be right, He will not see you always in trouble." Birmingham, 1864, of a fabcsmau.

Chapter I. My First Order

My first journey to London. Aye, that was a journey, one that I never shall forget, until my nose and my toes are turned to the turf, and a stone at the head of a little mound of earth says, " Sacred to the memory of ." No matter who; I am an unknown nobody, and perhaps there will be no stone to give such immortality as stones can give to one who, I am ashamed to say, has not done much good in the world. Sitting by my father's fire-side, hearing him continually com plaining about the badness of trade, how his customers were for ever docking his prices, and lowering and lowering them continually, until it was as much as ever he could do, by thrift and scheming, to get anything at all for himself. Something he was really obliged to sell at a loss. How others in his trade managed to live was more than he could tell, for they undersold him everywhere.

" Father," said I, " why don't you go to London, and sell your goods there ? " The suggestion chimed in with my mother's thought, who, though very iond of my father, was always lamenting his want of ambition. " Because he has no spirit," said she. " I have wanted him to do it many a time but he will not ; he lets everybody pass him in trade — he will remain a poor drudge all his life ; I wish I had been a man, we should then have lived at the sign of the case is altered." I must confess that my father had always been an authority with me. I had thought his judgment superior to any man's judgment, and with me it was always sufficient to close any question in dispute, by saying, " My father says so, and there is an end of it." But I bad begun to suspect his opinion was not unfailing, and from the manner in which my mother spoke, to think that he was a spiritless being, contented to vegetate, and let the world go wag its own way.

So I determined to spring in for mylelf. Besides, the attraction for a young man to see London ; a place where the streets were paved with apple dumplings, the houses tiled in with pancakes, and pigs and poultry ready roasted ran about the streets with knives and forks in their backs, and crying out, " Come and eat me, come and eat me." And the King lived there in a great gilded palace, and rode in a golden coach. And the Lord Mayor dressed in fine robes, and rode in a golden coach like the kings. To go to such a fine place was my highest ambition. fc>o I determined to see it. " Father, let me go," said I. " Let you go," said he, " a boy like you." At this speech I began to feel a little indignant, and putting my fingers to my cheeks to pull away at the down which was to be my whiskers when properly grown, I shook my head, and com pressed my lips.

I felt the rebel rising within me, and thought, though I don't think I said it, " You dare uot say that again." " Yes, let him go," said my mother. " Why ? " said my father, "he will be robbed before he has been there five minutes." "Then I will go wiih him," replied my mother, " and take care of him." I thought I might be trusted myself ; but then you see as my mother was with me no one could jeer me by saying, " Does your mother know you're out ? " So it was arranged that mother and I were to go up to London to get orders. I felt so proud. I do believe I was three inches taller. I found that my trousers did not cover my ankles, and that my coat sleeves did not reach my wrists, and that it was not be coming in me to go to London in that over-grown toggery. So I was to have a new suit, it being very important that I should make a good impression upon those respectable firms who were about to become customers of our bouse.

I was an altered man. Yes, man ; for though I was but a boy, full grown though, yet my new dignity had elevated me to the full dimensions of a man. I began to think of a wife and family, so set up a sweetheart at once. One of the workpeople called me " John," as he had MK FIRST ORDER. been used to do. I checked him, and said, " I beg your pardon, but when you address me in future you will please to say Mister John." So I snuffed him out for his impudence. I felt that I ought to look wise, so I Irowned upon everybody, and never by any chance let a smile creep over my face. My mother and I made up some patterns, and a small stock of brooches, and charms, and earrings, and finger rings, and shirt studs, and bosom pins, for we were jewellers, and started from the Nelson Inn in the Bull King, by the London Tally Ho, the guard playing on the bugle horn, " See the rosy morn appearing."

I must confess that, though it was the first time I had ever left Birmingham, I felt no regret. After a long and weary ride, London — the great London, the renowned London, the London of my youthful imagination — was reached, the guard playing upon his bugle horn, " See the conquering hero comes ; " the coachman leaning to his four " tits," giving them their heads, and flourishing his whip fancifully over his " bits of blood," and making them gallop along as freshly as though they had just begun, rather than just finished the journey. In London we were We had some names given to us, who were said to be large buyers in our way. I must now confess that when we were put to it, my mother and I, we had not the amount of courage we ought to have had, and that we had persuaded ourselves we bad. We agreed not to make any enquiries at the inn at which we stopped ; we said it was better not.

But I am afraid this was the way we excused our cowardice. We called our want of pluck, policy. So we went out into the street ; there were such crowds of people moving along in one continual stream, all in a hurry, as if life and death depended upon what they were doing. They knocked us and jostled us about shamefully. At length my mother, a little vexed, cried, " Dang the folks, where are they coming to ? Ask some of them if they know Ketterman and Stims ? " I must confess, to my shame, that I said, " I don't like." My mother was afraid too, and let hundreds upon hundreds pass before she asked anyone ; at last she did. " What part do they live ? " was the reply. " They are wholesale jewellers," said my molher, rather bewildered by such a question. " But what part of London do they live in ?

" We looked at our list ; we had got the names and nothing more. " Where do you come from ? " said the man. " From Birmingham," said I ; but not in a proud tone. " Then do you go back to Birmingham, and get to know where the people live," and he went on his way laughing. My mother did not speak, and I did not speak. We walked about in silence — in dead beat silence. Afraid to go out of sight of the inn, for fear we should lose ourselves ; afraid to ask any more questions, for fear we should let any more people know what a pair of fools we were ; so we walked about. We had not a word to throw at a dog. I carried the goods about until T was downright tired. My mother would say, " We would go into that shop," only we were not to call on the shopkeepers, or we should never be able to sell to any wholesale houses at any time after, for we should be marked.

Dinner time came. We went into an eating-house to dine ; there, at the table at which we sat, was a Birmingham man, a silversmith, in London on the same hop. He very kindly gave us the directions we wanted. Instantly our tongues began to wag ; the depression which had so unaccountably come over us gave way to jollity. At the very first place we went to we sold all our stock, and took a large order for more — so large that we dare not ask for any more, for fear we should not be able to get them up. So we passed the remainder of our time in seeing the sights of London. Success had crowned our journey, and we felt very proud of ourselves. We were quite as good as any Londoner ; so when they jostled we jostled again, and threatened to let them know. We returned to Birmingham in no meek spirit, I can assure you.

We had sold all our stock, taken a large order — a larger one than our house had ever had. We felt rather crowish, and looked down upon my father as a poor spiritless fellow, who would never rise in the world. The goods were got up. I saw to the packing of them myself, made out the invoice myself, went to the coach office myself, and when I returned and put the carriage-book upon tbe desk I felt very big, I can assure you. I looked down upon my father, thought him au old duffer, and assumed the direction of the business, taking all control out of his bands ; for I was not going to let my fortune and my trade be marred by him. My mother rather encouraged me. I had more MY FIRST ORDER. 5 goods made for my next journey. I was very choice in the style and the patterns ; was above taking any advice from my father, whom I had completely put behind me.

When the time came I went in flying colours by myself — I was not going to have my mother with me again — to London, to receive the money for my first London order. I arose early the following morning, intending to pay the money into a bank, to our credit in Birmingham. When I got there the place was shut up. The men had run away. They were a set of sharpers, and had swindled everybody. My crowing spirit left me. I buried my face in my hands, and cried like a spoilt child. I came home again wiser if not richer, and ever after was willing to admit that the spirit of youth should be restrained by the experience of age.

Chapter II My Return

As soon as I discovered that we had been swindled out of our money I felt almost broken-hearted ; I had not spirit for ar.ything. London, that I had thought so highly of, seemed to me a den of thieves. All the stories which I had heard of the wickedness of that great place shot through my mind, and made me wonder, if there were a good God presiding over the ways and doings of men, why he let his vengeance sleep ? why did he not destroy that sink of iniquity, as formerly, for less cause, he did the cities of the plain ? In my youthful judgment, my calamity required the direct interposition of an angry God. Had the fire and the thunder been at my disposal I should have used them blindly and revengefully. 1 smarted under the sense of wrong, and like, I am afraid, too many of us would do, had I had the power, I should have committed a much greater wrong in revenge for the one I had sustained.

I left London with a savage and scowling frown. It had no charms for me. I thought it the resort of the scum of the three kingdoms, and tbe world to boot. A place filled with abomina tions and every iniquity. Could I have given such a description as could have gained and kept the ear of the world, I should, like Peter the Hermit, bave roused all mankind to go on a crusade of mercy and destroy that city until one stone should not have been left upon another ; nay, there should not have been a broken arch upon which the New Zealander could stand while he contemplated the unmeaning ruins. The horses which dragged the coach on which I returned seemed but sorry cattle ; the harness was shabby and worn out. The guard's bugle was out of tune. The coachman's attempt to MY KETURN. 7 show off filled me with disgust.

The trees threw up naked branches above the leaves, and seemed dying at the top. Every thing was going to decay. There was a shade even in the very sunshine. All things understood my calamity, and decayed because I suffered wrong. Even Birmingham — good old Birmingham, the darling of my heart, the place which saw my birth, where I spent my boyhood, where, if it shall please Providence to grant my most fervent wish, I desire these bones of mine to be laid, by the side of those I have loved so well — even Birmingham, the jewel of my soul, the day star of all my aspirations, the " god of my idolitary," had no charms for me. As I entered it tears came into my eyes, and I wept. But I found there nature's balm, and my deep grief was relieved. My errand had been oue of disappointment. For that night I determined to keep my secret.

There should be but one head tossing about on the bed of rest to whom slumber refused to administer relief. When morning came, I knew I should feel like the poor bankrupt when he knows that his ruin is no longer a secret, relieved and comforted, though perhaps he may be happy no more, for my secret would also be known. As soon as I arrived in Birmingham, I engaged one of Pugh's coaches, or rather, as they were somewhat irreverently called, one of " Pugh's barges," to take me and my boxes home. Tbe coachman gave his rat. tat, tat, at the door. Our servant, Mary, came out at once. My mother, having heard the wheels of the coach, was soon at the door too. " It is Master John," said Mary. " It is my own boy come home again," said my mother, " all safe and sound. Take his boxes into the house."

" Put them in the warehouse, Mary," said I, very gloomily. *' Give me his benjamin and hat boxes," said my mother, and she went panting into the house with my great coat on one arm and a hat box in each hand. I discharged the coachman, and went in home too. As soon as I got there my mother almost smothered me with kisses. " Motber," said I, " do not do so." " Not kiss my own child," said she, " not kiss my own child ! What has come to you? Because you have been to London, and done that as your father could not do, you have become ashamed of your poor old mother, who suckled you and gave you milk." "And fed me with pap," said I, for I was in the humour for none of this. " Not kiss my own boy ! what, do you want to break my old heart ? " " No, mother," said I, some what touched. " You my kiss me again.

I like it." " And were the good dear gentlemen as kind to you as they were to us ? Oh, they were nice gentlemen. How did you do with them ? Have you got plenty of orders? " " Mother, we will talk about business in tin morning," said I. " Where's my father? " " Gone to bis club," said she. " For my part, 1 cannot tell what men want to be always at their clubs for. I hope it is not an excuse for something else. He is not as he used to be ; there must be some causp for it. He had better not let me find him out ; if he does, I'll club him. If he does not mind, some of these times, I'll watch; and if I do find him out, I'll club him ! " " Mother," said I, " what have you got to eat ? I am hungry." "Mary is cooking you a nice chop," said she, "and I have tapped one of those three-year-old barrels df ale on purpose for you " " Mother," said I, I would rather have coffee."

" Coffee ! " said she, in astonishment. " What, coffee, after so long a journey ? Coffee has got no strength in it ; you must have something better than coffee." " No, mother, I prefer coffee." " Why, what has come over my child, to want coffee ; but coffee it shall be. Whatever is the matter with him that such alterations have come over him. I suppose it is the way with all boys just as they are becoming men. Men are strange creatures, and bave many little ways with them that we women are obliged to submit to. When I was a young woman I thought man a mystery, and now I am grown old, and know more about him, I think him a mystery still ; he is so fond of a cigar and whiskey punch. Now, Mary, make haste with the chop and coffee ! " My mother set about preparing the supper table with her own hands.

I must confess that I loved my mother. It is true she was a fussy woman ; but nature had blessed her with a kind heart, in which smiles and tears followed each other like an April day. Now sunshine, which fills all with joy, then rain, at which none are discomforted. There was no one sick but she was ready with herb teas, or some all-powerful medicine suitable to the ailment. There was no one in distress but she had for them a word of comfort and a helping hand. WThen I was in health I used to MY RETURN. laugh at her eccentricities, but when I was sick I would let none other nurse me. Blessings on her memory. She will live in my remembrance until it shall please God to call me home. " There," said she, " there is your chop, and there is your coffee. Now set to and eat it. I have been thinking, John, while you have been away, what a blessed thing it is to have a good son like you ; so sensible as you are, too.

There is many a poor mother with a child, but half-witted. She is fond of it, though, very fond of it. How much more should I be with mine." " Mother, mother," said I, " don't be foolish." " It is the truth," said she, "and if you call truth foolishness, I am foolish ; but I do not. To think that my boy is able to go to London by himself, and come back again all safe and sound ; can do business like a man, and take his place with men. Has courage enough for anything ; a spirit to improve himself and his condition in the world far above whatever his father had. He is an ambitious boy, and I should not at all wonder but, when he gets older, he will not be satisfied with nasty smoky Birmingham, but like a gentleman, as he will be, will go to live at Edgbaston, and be respectable. I am sure there is no lady who lives there but will be but too glad to fall in love with him and marry him.

I shall be so happy to be at the wedding, and at the christening. I will be godmother to my own grandchild. Bless its little heart. Ah, you need not hold up your hand ; I know what I am talking about. I have been thinking of it for a long whUe, and I will tell it now. I should not be at all surprised, whoever lives to see it, but my boy will be Lord Mayor of Birmingham. There will be an honour for you. Then our family will be understood, and take its proper place in the town. Oh, how happy I am in having such a son ! If I did not know, for the very best of all reasons, that your father as is your father, was your father, I could not believe him to be your father. You are nothing like him, nothing. You are more of me." RECOLLF.CTIONS OF A TRADESMAN.

Chapter III. Forgiven

It was a weary, weary night ! Trouble made the heart sick. I tossed about my bed to seek a position in wbich I could rest, but all in vain. The few short snatches of sleep tbe night gave were passed in troubled dreams. I dreamed that 1 bad fallen into a pit ; as I sought to get out, every place upon which I put my foot gave way. When I so far succeeded as to put my hand upon the top, the support to which I clung became treacherous, and down I fell deep, deeper and deeper ; until the sun, which seemed as by miracle to stand over that pit, appeared no larger than a star, so far did I fall. I dreamed that I had left the land of men, and fallen into one which was in habited by animals of a totally different form and disposition. As I fell among them they gave a loud cry— a. horrible ex pression of pleasure — and rushed upon me as do hounds upon the weeping stag when they have brought him to bay.

They tried to tear me to pieces. I contended with them for life — for dear life. I cried for help, but no help came. Death was upon me in great and revolting horrors. I made one strong, last, and determined effort to escape. As I did so, I awoke from that scene of horrors. I found myself all wet with a copious per spiration, and blessed my God that it was only a dream. If poor wretches, whom all the world blames, upon whom fortune frowns, who wander houseless and friendless, feel half the misery I felt, their punishment is great indeed ! Be merciful, O man ! Censure not with too severe a judgment, until you have suffered as poor wretches suffer. It is well to have a home filled with all the comforts and all the luxuries this world can give; it is well never to have known, except in fiction, the FORGIVEN. 11 miseries which want and poverty bring ; it is well to be so wealthy that you have never been friendless ; it is well to be one of the great ones of the earth ; but, oh I it is better to have a feeling heart ; to be imbued with that mercy which makes man akin to the angels of God !

As soon as we commenced business in the morning I told my story. I thought I saw a slight smile of satisfaction creep over my father's face. His time of triumph had arrived. " And so," he said, " you have made a fine thing of it, your mother and you. You are like a great many more; you can stand and blame and find fault ; but when you are called upon to act and do, you fail as often as any one else. Your father is a poor spiritless old duffer, is he ? — a king whose throne ought to be declared vacant ? New blood should be infused, and a younger king should reign ! A very fine thing indeed the young king has made of it. Young men now-a-days have a notion that, if any good is to be done in the world, it is they who are to do it. Yes, I dare say they are of that opinion ; but who else is ? I should like to know.

It will be a long time before the world is much improved by billycock hats and hairy chins. If beards could brush away the cobwebs of time, it would not be long before all things were whitewashed. Poor weak things as they are, they think that if they wear a beard, look fierce, hold up their heads, and take a proud and stately step, they are grandly wise and outrageously useful. Conceit, self-conceit, is the only quality young men have now-a-days. They can do nothing but please themselves and the silly girls. When I was a young man, business was the order of the day ; and there will be no good done until it is so again, and every one minds his own business, and does not trouble himself about other people's. So you have lost all your money and the goods to boot, have you, and the expenses of the two journeys to London into the bargain ?

Now, just tell me, you and your mother, will you, how it is to be made up. What answer am I to give to my creditors when they ask for their money ? I cannot pay them. Do you think they will be satisfied when I tell them that you and your mother went to London with a large stock of goods, that you let some swindlers have them who did you out of the money, and therefore I cannot pay ? Do you think that will satisfy them ? Come, tell me." My mother, you see, knew my father's ways a great deal better than I did, so I let ber speak. She could see by the result who was to blame. So she thought tbe best way to meet the storm was to coax a bit. " Well," said she, " if anybody had told me those gentlemanly people were swindlers, I should not bave believed them. They spoke so kindly. They aspirated their h's so well.