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She and Crossthwaite used to sit and read to me from the Bible, from poets, from every book which could suggest soothing, graceful, or hopeful fancies.
Gin I had na seen in my youth that a brither in Christ meant less a thousand-fold than a brither out o' him, I might ha' believit the noo we'll no say what. I've an owre great organ o' marvellousness, an' o' veneration too, I'm afeard." "Ah!" said Crossthwaite, "you should come and hear Mr.
I should prefer him just because he was not just because he was a working man, and come of workmen's blood. We shall see whether he's stanch after all. To my mind, little Cuffy's worth a great deal more, as far as earnestness goes." "Oh! Cuffy's a low-bred, uneducated fellow." "Aristocrat again, John!" said I, as we went up-stairs to Kelly's room. And Crossthwaite did not answer.
I dragged Crossthwaite off; for what was jest to the soldiers, I saw, by his face, was fierce enough earnest to him. We walked on a little, in silence. "Now," I said, "that was a good-natured fellow enough, though he was a soldier. You and he might have cracked many a joke together, if you did but understand each other; and he was a countryman of yours, too."
Yes, I have seen the land! Like a purple fringe upon the golden sea. But I shall never reach the land. Weaker and weaker, day by day, with bleeding lungs and failing limbs, I have travelled the ocean paths. The iron has entered too deeply into my soul. This is an extract from a letter by John Crossthwaite. "Galveston, Texas, October, 1848.
I had felt myself from the first strangely drawn towards Crossthwaite, carefully as he seemed to avoid me, except to give me business directions in the workroom. He alone had shown me any kindness; and he, too, alone was untainted with the sin around him. Silent, moody, and preoccupied, he was yet the king of the room. His opinion was always asked, and listened to.
The windows were tight closed to keep out the cold winter air; and the condensed breath ran in streams down the panes, chequering the dreary outlook of chimney-tops and smoke. The conductor handed me over to one of the men. "Here, Crossthwaite, take this younker and make a tailor of him. Keep him next you, and prick him up with your needle if he shirks."
Having once been hustled out of the serried crowd of competing workmen, it was impossible to force our way in again. So, a week or ten days past, our little stocks of money were exhausted. I was down-hearted at once; but Crossthwaite bore up gaily enough. "Katie and I can pick a crust together without snarling over it.
As a slave, as an increased burden on my fellow-sufferers, I will not live. So help me God! I will take no work home to my house; and I call upon every one here to combine, and to sign a protest to that effect." "What's the use of that, my good Mr. Crossthwaite?" interrupted some one, querulously.
"What are you a-grumbling here about, my man? gotten the cholera?" asked one of the dragoons, a huge, stupid-looking lad. "About you, you young long-legged cut-throat," answered Crossthwaite, "and all your crew of traitors." "Help, help, coomrades o' mine!" quoth the dragoon, bursting with laughter; "I'm gaun be moorthered wi' a little booy that's gane mad, and toorned Chartist."
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