Bill o'th' Hoylus End

Adventures and Recollections


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ALONE IN LONDON

       CHAPTER XX

       THE LATE MR LEACH IN LONDON

       IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS

       AT A FANCY DRESS BALL

       AT SPURGEON’S TABERNACLE

       AN ADVENTURE AT EPSOM RACES

       ROBBED IN PETTICOAT LANE

       THE FINAL DAY

       MR LEACH’S THREE NIGHTS’ LECTURES

       MR LEACH’S FUNERAL SERMONS

       CHAPTER XXI

       MR LEACH AT WAKEFIELD

       SLACK-LANE BAPTIST CHAPEL

       A VISIT TO CLIFFE CASTLE

       MR LEACH AND DEVONSHIRE PARK

       MR LEACH’S EPITAPH

       CHAPTER XXII

       EXILED FROM KEIGHLEY

       IN BRADFORD—AS PATTERN DRESSER

       AS WARP-SIZING INSPECTOR

       AS “BUM” BAILIFF

       BACK TO KEIGHLEY

       THE ORDER OF BUFFALOES

       CHAPTER XXIII

       A TRAMP INTO LANCASHIRE

       LOCAL ELECTION EPISODES

       BOYCOTTED!

       I APPLY FOR SITUATION AS WORKHOUSE MASTER

       “THE POOR MAN’S LAWYER”

       I TURN INVENTOR

       CHAPTER XXIV old time friends

       BILL SPINK, THE COBBLER

       A THEATRICAL CHUM

       WITH THE LATE MR EDWIN WAUGH

       “SAMMY” MOORE, AND OTHERS

       CHAPTER XXV

       MR JONAS BOTTOMLEY

       “SHOOTING MONKEYS”

       “WHEN GREEN LEAVES COME AGAIN”

       CHAPTER XXVI

       OLD MUSICIANS

       A DISAPPOINTED MAN

       “GOOISE AN’ GIBLET PIE.”

       THE CONCLUDING CHAPTER

       SOME LAUGHABLE STORIES

       MY LAST RAMBLE

       CHRISTMAS DAY

       Table of Contents

      [Bill o’th Hoylus End might be termed a local Will-o’th-Wisp. He has been everything by turns, and nothing long. Now, a lean faced lad, “a mere anatomy, a mountebank, a thread bare juggler, a needy, hollow-ey’d, sharp looking wretch;” now acting the pert, bragging youth, telling quaint stories, and up to a thousand raw tricks; now tumbling and adventuring into manhood with yet the oil and fire and force of youth too strong for reason’s sober guidance; and now—well and now—finding the checks of time have begun to grapple him, he looks back upon the past and tells his curious stories o’er again. Verily, as Shakespeare declares in All’s Well, “the web of his life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together;” and through it all there is a kind of history, just as

      “There is a history in all men’s lives,

       Figuring the nature of the times deceased.”

      This son of Mischief, Art and Guile has stooped to many things but to conquer himself and be his own best friend; that is, according to the conception of the ordinary, respectable, get-on folk of the world. He has followed more or less the wild, shifting impulses of his nature—restless and reckless, if aimless and harmless;