Part 4

"Yes," replied Johnny, "for as it was holiday time, there came trains from Nottingham and Leicester and other factory towns, ever so far off. You may think what a treat it is to the children, who often come with their parents; and the trains make them pay very little when there is so many of them, and so both old and young are so glad and so happy. First, you know, they have a long ride in the train, and then such fine gardens to amuse themselves in, and large rooms where they may eat the dinner they bring with them, or drink tea, just as they choose; they have hot water and tea-things for nothing; and if they don't bring tea with them, they may get it there, and bread and butter too, for three-pence. But they cannot buy any beer or spirits; that is not allowed, for fear they should get tipsy, for that would be doing wrong.

"Then in the Easter holidays there comes a fiddler, and the people all dance, that is, all those who like it, and know how. There is a large flat piece of grass like a bowling green, on purpose for them to dance on."

THE FACTORY.

"Pray," said Willy, going on with the conversation, "tell me something about the factories, where you say so many of these people work."

Johnny replied, "that as he worked in a farm, and not in a factory, he did not understand much about it; but," said he, "I once went to see the mills at Milford, a few miles from Derby, for I have an uncle who works there, and one day he took me all over them, and showed me every thing."

"Are mills and a factory the same thing?" asked Willy.

"I know no difference," replied Johnny.

"And what did you see there?"

"All sorts of things. There were great wheels and little wheels, and spindles which turned round like wheels, and large rollers that turned round too, and many other things; and uncle told me it was all called machinery."

"But what do they do with all this machinery?"

"They spin cotton wool; but do you know what cotton wool is?"

"Yes," replied Willy, "it is what mamma puts to my ear to keep it warm when I have the ear-ache; but that is not at all like thread. I am sure you could never thread a needle with it."

"No, not before it is spun; but then it makes all the nice cotton-thread that is wound on little bobbins to sew with."

"Then, I dare say," said Willy, "that the wheels and spindles at the factory are like grandmamma's spinning-wheel; she turns the wheel with her foot, and the wheel turns the spindle, and she twists the flax with her fingers; for she does not spin cotton, but flax."

"That is much the same," observed Betsey, "only flax makes stronger thread; we all know the difference at school well enough. When we sew with cotton it often breaks, but thread made of flax very seldom does."

"Then, if I was a girl, I would always sew with flax," said Willy.

"When you are at school you must sew with what the school-mistress gives you, and that is almost always cotton, because it is cheaper."

"Now," continued Johnny, "you know that your grandmother's spinning-wheel twists only one thread; but at the factory there are hundreds and thousands of threads all twisting at once."

"What a number of people there must be to twist so many threads!"

"Oh no," said Johnny, "it is the spindles that twist the threads."

"But, then, who turns the spindles? I suppose men must do that?"

"No such thing; all the spindles are all turned by one single thing." Willy stared with surprise; but Johnny went on: "Yes, not only all the spindles, but everything that turns in the factory, is made to turn by one great wheel, which is as big as a house."

"But what is it turns this great wheel? it cannot be a man nor a horse, for they would not be strong enough. Oh! I dare say it is a steam-engine, for that is the strongest thing I ever heard of."

"Well, it is true," returned Johnny, "that the great wheel is turned by a steam-engine in most factories, but in that I saw it was something else, which cost less, and did as well."

"What can that be?" said Willy.

"Why, it is a stream of water, which is higher than the great wheel, and so it falls down upon it, and pushes it round."

"That is just like the wheel at the miller's, which grinds corn," said Willy; "it is called a water-wheel, because the water turns it; but," added he, laughing, "when the great wheel of a factory is turned by a steam-engine, it is turned by water too."

"How do you make that out?"

"Why, steam is made of hot water, and the stream of cold water; so it's only the difference between hot and cold."

"I never thought of that," said Johnny, "but it's true enough; the power that moves the wheel is in the water, whether it be hot or cold."

"Well, I think between grandmamma's spinning-wheel and the corn-mill you will understand something of a factory at last."

"Indeed," said Willy, "I think a spinning-wheel must be very like a factory in little, for it does just the same thing, only grandmamma's foot, which turns the wheel, is not a bit like a steam-engine or a stream of water."

Betsey could not help laughing at such a ridiculous comparison. Then Johnny said, "Well, if it is not like, it does the same thing; her foot is the power that turns the wheel; it don't signify what the power is, so that it be strong enough to do the work."

"But then," observed Willy, "if the great wheel and the spindles do all the work, what is there left for the men and women and children to do?"

"Oh, there's plenty of work for everybody," returned Johnny, "a deal more than I can explain to you. When the threads that are spinning break, they stop the twisting and fasten them together, and even the children can do that."

"To be sure, if it's only tying the broken thread together in a knot, that is easy enough."

"But it's not tying a knot," said Betsey. "When your grandmother breaks the thread she is spinning, does she tie it together in a knot?"

"No," replied Willy, "she twists the two ends together so cleverly that the thread looks as if it had never been broken. I have often tried to mend the thread so, but I never could."

"The children of the factory can, though," said Betsey, "they do it all day long; and when once they have learnt it, it is easier to them than tying a knot. But you can't teach the spindles to do it, so you see they could not get on without the children."

The boys, who were always ready for a joke, fell a-laughing at Betsey's idea of teaching the spindles any thing.

"I will tell you what you should do," said Johnny; "ask your Papa, who seems to be so good-natured, to take you to see one of the factories to-morrow. There are plenty of them here as well as at Milford, and they say that all the great folks who come to Derby go to see one or other of them."

"Then I hope he will," replied Willy, "but I should like best to see the mills at Milford you have been telling me about, where your uncle works."

THE FARM.

"Now you have told me all about the factories," said Willy, "I wish you would tell me something about your farm."

"Oh! that is quite another sort of thing," replied Johnny; "it's all out-of-doors work at a farm."

"And what sort of work do you do?"

"I cannot do much, because I am only ten years old, and am not strong enough, for the work is much harder there than here."

"Not always," observed Betsey. "I am sure hay-making is more like play than work, it's such good fun to rake up the hay, and then to have a roll on the haycock, and sometimes we get a drive in the cart when the hay is carrying."

"Yes," said Johnny; "but reaping, and ploughing, and digging are not so easy. However, hard or easy, I have not much time for work, for I go to school."

"And so do I," interrupted Betsey.

"Then," continued Johnny, "when we are at home we must help to take care of poor blind mother; but I help a little in the stables too, for I like to be looking after the horses and cows, and when I am older, father says I shall go to plough."

"And I help too," cried Betsey. "I don't run after the cows as Johnny does, but when he has brought them in I help Martha to milk them; that is, I carry her milking stool, and bring in a jug of milk for breakfast. Then I help her as much as I can to set all to rights in the dairy; but what I like best of all is, to take the new-laid eggs so nice and warm from under the hen that is sitting."

"Ah, ah!" cried Willy, laughing, "you see after all that you are fond of robbing a bird's nest."

"Nay," said Betsey, "that is not a bird's nest; it is not made by the hens, at least, for it is Martha who makes it, and then the hens were hatched from our eggs; so you see that hens, and eggs, and nests, and all, belong to us; and pray how can you rob what belongs to you?"

"But then," replied Willy, "is it not very hard upon the poor hen, to take away her eggs just when she is sitting upon them to hatch them?"

"No," replied Betsey, "for we never take away all her eggs, we leave her one, and that quite satisfies her; and when Martha wants to raise a brood of chickens she leaves her all the eggs she lays, and puts others under her besides; so you see we feed the hens and make them nice warm nests; and they lay eggs for us; so it's tit for tat."

Betsey had the best of the argument, and Willy gave up the point.

"I should like," said he, "to work in a farm much better than in a factory, where you are staying all day in a room fastening broken threads."

"So do I," replied Johnny, "it is much pleasanter to be running about out of doors after cattle, than to be shut up in the factory,--except perhaps in winter, when you often get wet through. That is why my uncle went to the factory; he got an ague by working out of doors in the rain, and was so bad he lost all his strength, and could hardly lift a spade. So, when he was better, he said he would go to the factory, where they do not work so hard, and are always under cover. When folks are not strong, a factory suits them best. Then every body could not find work at a farm, so some must go to the factory, whether they like it or not."

"But what sort of work is done in a farm?" inquired Willy.

"We grow corn to make bread, and breed cattle for meat."

"Then you make bread and meat for poor people's dinners," said Willy. "I am sure that is very good of you."

"Oh! but father don't give it away," said Johnny, "he could not afford that; he helps the poor people as much as he can, and pays them wages for their work; but his corn he sells to the baker, who makes it into bread; and his cattle to the butcher, who makes it into meat; and they sell it both to rich and poor, they care not which, so that they do but get paid for it."

"But the poor have no money to pay with," observed Willy.

"Then they must work to earn money; and that they may do either in a farm or a factory. Why, in a factory, as I told you, even little children get paid for their work."

"But what does your father do with all the money he gets for the corn and cattle he sells to the baker and the butcher? for he don't want to buy meat, nor bread, nor fowls, nor eggs, nor milk; for he gets all those things from his farm."

"Yes, we get plenty to eat and to drink too from the farm," answered Johnny, "for we make cider from our apples, and we brew beer from our barley. But we want a great many other things besides food. We must have clothes to keep us warm; and the factory people provide us with clothes as we provide them with food."

"But," said Willy, "they do not make clothes at the factory, they only make thread."

"Ay," replied Johnny, "but there are a great many other factories where they make things for clothes, such as silk, and linen, and cotton, and woollen cloth."

"Then," added Willy, "the thread they make at Milford serves the tailors and mantua makers, who make up the clothes, to sew them with. Well, how nicely that is contrived! people all help one another; it is tit for tat, like Betsey and her hens."

The children now returned to their parents, whom they found sitting on a bench.

Willy then made his request, and was much pleased to hear his mother say that they intended seeing the factory the next day; "but," added she, "we did not mean to take you with us; we thought you were too young to understand it, and that you would like better to stay with your friend Anna, and help her to gather fruit."

Willy thought that gathering fruit with Anna was a very nice thing too, but Johnny had raised his curiosity to see the factory so much, that he answered, "Oh no, pray let me go with you, for though I don't understand a factory much now, I dare say I shall when I see it; Johnny and Betsey have told me all about it; I shall know the great wheel, and the spindles, and what the children are doing when they fasten the broken threads together."

His parents, finding he had learnt so much already, promised he should go with them.

"And pray, Papa, let us go to the factory at Milford, where Johnny's uncle works;" and he was much pleased when he heard that was the factory they intended seeing, as it belonged to Mr. Joseph Strutt.

It was now time for them to return to the inn; so they took leave of the blind woman and her family.

"I am afraid you will soon forget me," said Willy sorrowfully; "I wish I had something to give you for a keepsake to make you remember me;" and he felt in his pockets, and found a teetotum and a few marbles, besides the ball, which he did not like to part with, his Papa having just given it to him; so he gave the teetotum to Betsey and the marbles to Johnny, and they promised to keep them for his sake. Willy was very sorry to part with his young friends, and the old ones too, for he liked them all: Granny, because she took such good care of her blind daughter, and looked so cheerful and good tempered; and the blind woman, because he pitied her; and Martha, because she was his first friend; and Johnny and Betsey, because they had all been so happy together;--so, for one reason or other, he liked them all.

TREES.

When Willy and his parents returned to the inn, they could talk of nothing but Mr. Joseph Strutt, and the beautiful gardens.

"I declare," said Willy's mother, "I never felt so proud in my life as when he gave me his arm to walk about the gardens; I fancied every body who passed us and smiled, seemed to think how happy I must be; and then he showed me all the curious trees which came from foreign countries; for, said he, I wish these gardens not only to amuse the people, but to teach them something; therefore I have planted trees and shrubs of various sorts, that those who wish to study the properties of plants may learn them, and turn their knowledge to some purpose; thus I have tried to make these gardens useful as well as pleasant."

"But, Mamma," said Willy, "are trees of any other use but to look pretty and shade us from the sun?" This was the last use Willy had made of them, and he did not just then think of any other.

"Willy!" exclaimed his mamma, "was the cherry-tree you climbed this morning of no other use?"

"Oh, to be sure! ripe cherries grow upon it, and they are so good to eat; and then there are apples on apple-trees, and pears on pear-trees, and fruit of some kind or other on all the trees; but no," continued he, "after a little thinking, there is no fruit on the oak tree, nor on the elm, nor on a great many other trees."

"Yes, there is," replied his mamma, "but the fruit is not good for us to eat; the oak bears acorns, which the pigs are fond of."

"And I like them to play with, but not to eat; and I like horse-chestnuts to play with, but I like the good chestnuts to eat."

"Well," observed his mother, "the oak and the elm, and the pine and the beech, and all those trees which do not bear fruit fit for us to eat, are of use to us for other purposes."

"Oh yes, their fruit is fit to play with."

"Something better than that, Willy; cannot you find out?"

Willy thought and thought again, but he would not guess, as some children do, hap-hazard, without any reason; so his mamma helped him a little by bidding him go and stamp upon the floor, in a part of the room where the boards were uncovered.

Willy, who was never fond of standing still, and preferred running or stamping to walking, set off with a hop, skip, and a jump, to the further end of the room, where the floor was uncovered, and began stamping on the boards with all his might; at length he suddenly stopped and exclaimed, "Ah, the boards! the boards are made of wood, and wood is made of the trunk of a tree; so that is the use of trees which do not bear good fruit."

"And of those which do, sometimes," replied his mother: "the wood of the cherry-tree is one of the lightest; so if you want to have some light chairs that children can move about, you must have them made of the planks of the cherry-tree. The oak and the elm, and all those large trees whose fruit is not good to eat, are called forest trees, because they commonly grow in woods or forests; but fruit trees we plant nearer home, in our orchards and gardens, that we may easily gather the fruit."

"Oh yes," cried Willy, "as Anna and I did."

"Well," continued his mother, "trees and plants of all kinds have many more uses than you can understand at your age, or than I can tell you, old as I am. But there is one thing you must remember, which is, that all plants were first created by God Almighty, and that all that He makes is useful and good."

"But, Mamma," said Willy, thoughtfully, "I remember your telling me once never to touch the berries which grew on the laurel bush on the lawn, because they were poisonous; and nurse says there are a great many other plants that are poisonous. Why did God make them, Mamma, for, you know, poisons kill people?"

"God made poisons to cure people," replied she: "do you remember last week when you suffered so much from the ear-ache?"

"Oh, that I do, the pain was so bad. I think I shall never forget it. I could not sleep all night; and as soon as it was light, nurse went to fetch you, and you laid my aching ear on your shoulder, and then you poured three drops of something which looked like water into my drink, and it took the pain away, and I fell asleep. Was it those three drops that cured the pain?"

"Yes, and it was those drops too which sent you to sleep."

"Oh, if I had known that, I do think I should have drunk up the whole of the bottle; it was but a little one, you know."

"Well, my dear, the drops I poured into your drink were poison; if I had given you six drops instead of three, they would have made you ill, and if you had swallowed all that was in the bottle, it would have killed you. So you see that poisons may kill as well as cure. God created plants which are poisonous to cure us when we are ill; they are then wholesome and good for us."

"Then God is very good to have made these plants, though they are poisonous?"

"Yes, my dear. Whatever God creates is for some good purpose, though we cannot always understand it.

"There are a great many poisons of different sorts; most of them take away pain and send you to sleep, others cure particular diseases. Your grandmamma scarcely ever sleeps without taking morphine."

"Yes, I know that," said Willy, "but I did not think, that morphine was a poison. I suppose that is why she keeps it locked up."

"Yes, for fear that the children should hurt themselves with it. But, now, Willy, it is time for you to go to bed; and after all you have seen and done to-day, you must be tired, and will go to sleep without taking any poison."

Willy kissed his papa and mamma, and was just going out of the room, when the waiter brought in a parcel directed to Master Willy.

"That's me," exclaimed Willy: "what can it be?"

"Let us open the parcel," said his mother, "and then we shall find out what it is."

They untied the string, and unfolded the paper which covered the parcel, and what should there be within but a large piece of plumcake!

"Oh! I know what it is," said Willy, "though I never saw it before; it is a piece of the cake Granny slapped so hard, and they have sent it me, because I gave them the teetotum and the marbles."

This proved true; but until Willy explained it, his papa and mamma could not understand what he meant.

Willy begged they would taste the cake, and having eaten a little bit himself, he went to bed and soon fell asleep.

THE FACTORY VISITED.