268 OUR ENGLISH LAND MUDDLE. 



I can recall once, when I was tramping Eng- 

 land in the guise of an " unemployed " to in- 

 vestigate at first-hand the conditions of life of 

 the men who are down, I encountered in the 

 north, going from Durham, an oldish man plod- 

 ding patiently the road two miles out of the 

 cathedral city. He was something a little higher 

 than a casual labourer, and had a " trade," if 

 one might call it so : that of a drapers' porter. 

 In effect he carried round parcels for drapers, 

 and was making out from Durham, where 

 ' things were very bad," to a country place, 

 unspecified, where there was work. A brave 

 and cheerful soul he was. At the age of four 

 his leg had been broken and badly set, and he 

 had grown up a little lame. That was over 

 forty years ago, when the poor had less chance 

 of good medical attendance than now. The 

 accident, he told me, had frustrated the wish in 

 him for an outdoor life. He confessed that all 

 his thoughts turned to the soil ; and while he 

 was working in Durham as a drapers' porter 

 he would, in slack times, always try to get out 

 in the fields. He had never married : there 

 was no hope of married life in his calling. He 



