FARMERS* REGISTER— LABORERS IN ENGLISH FACTORIES. 



189 



and some were deformed ; but the pai'ents ivho were 

 able to support their children took them away, in con- 

 sequence of seeing that they would be deformed if they 

 did not take them away." — "Your mother being a wi- 

 dow, and having but little, could not afford to take you 

 away ?" " No." — "Would the parish have relieved you, 

 if your mother had taken you away ?" " No, she has 

 oftentimes been to them, but she was ho better for it. 

 I have seen her weep oftentimes, and I have asked her 

 why she was weeping, but she would not tell rae then, 

 but she has told me since." — "What did she tell you 

 affected her ?" " Seeing my limbs giving way by work- 

 ing such long hours." 



Such, then, is the situation of these poor creatures, 

 as to what is called their free agency. In fact no one 

 can read the horrible details contained in the volume of 

 evidence, and imagine for an instant that any human be- 

 ings would submit to the sufferings there detailed, if it 

 were in their power to escape from them. Into these 

 frightful details we must now, for a short time, enter. 

 Having alluded to them we must justify the language 

 we have used ; we will do this, and much more. In 

 fact, the common terms of horror and indignation are 

 inadequate to the expression of feelings excited by this 

 dreadful picture. We mvist therefore leave the poor 

 creatures to tell their story in their own words, without 

 incumbering it with our remarks. 



The evil mainly and principally lies in the excessive 

 length of the labor exacted. From this source all the 

 other evils of the system flow ; and therefore it is, that 

 the main object of Mr. Sadler's bill is to limit the hours 

 of attendance to twelve per day, i. e. ten of labor, with 

 two for meals. 



The following extracts are from Blackwood's 

 Magazine, on the same bill and evidence. 



" The following were the hours of labor imposed up- 

 on the children employed in a Factory at Leeds the 

 summer before last. On Monday morning work com- 

 menced at six o'clock ; at nine, half an hour for break- 

 fast; fromhalf-pastnine till twelve, work. Dinner, one 

 hour; from five till eight, work; rest for half an hour. 

 From half-past eight till twelve, (midnight,) work ; an 

 hour's rest. From one in the morning till five, work; 

 half an hour's rest. From half past five till nine, work ; 

 breakfast. From half-past nine till twelve, work ; din- 

 ner ; from one till half-past four, work. Rest half an 

 hour ; and work again from five till nine on Tuesday 

 evening, when the labor terminated, "and the parly of 

 adult and infant slaves''^ are dismissed for the night, after 

 having toiled thirty-nine hours, with brief intervals 

 (amounting only to six hours in the whole) for refresh- 

 ment, but none for sleep. On Wednesday and Thurs- 

 day, day-work only. From Friday morning till Satiu-- 

 day night, the same labor repeated, but closed at five — 

 to show that even such masters can be merciful. This 

 is one of the extreme cases, but they are not of very 

 rare occurrence ; ordinarily the working hours vary 

 from twelve to fourteen ; they are often extended to six- 

 teen ; but in some mills (are we right in saying so ?) 

 they seldom exceed twelve for children." 



****** 



" Who'ever," says Mr. Sadler, "has lived in a manu- 

 facturing town, must have heard, if he happened to be 

 awake many hours before light on a winter's morning, 

 the patter of little pattens on the jmvement, lasting perhaps 

 for half an hour together, though the time appointed 

 for assembling was the same." She works for some 

 hours before breakfast, after what some folks would 

 have called no supper — and then what a breakfast — co- 

 vered with dust ! Nor is she allowed to eat it, such as it 

 is, sitting ; but must swallow a mouthful now and then 

 as best she may, standing and working at the beck of 

 that engine. 



' 'At mid-day, " to dinner with what appetite she may," 

 and some hours after, a cup of thin sugarless tea, for 

 nothing else Avill stay on her stomach. There is a de- 

 mand — and work must go on till mid-night. She gets 



drowsy, and lies down on the floor to snatch some sleep. 

 The overlooker espies her white face upon her thin arm 

 for a pillow — blue ej-ehdsshut — pale lips apart; and, to 

 cure that lazy trick, dashes over her head, and neck, and 

 breast,and body, a bucket full of water. Wellmay our le- 

 gislator laugh at the recital, for all the imps there laugh 

 louder than he at the reality, and it cannot be denied, 

 that the practical joke is of the first water. And now the 

 whole gang of small sweaty sickly slaves is at work in 

 spite of the stupor of sleepiness, — and how think ye do 

 they contrive to keep themselves awake? By all man- 

 ner of indecencies of look, speech, and action, possible 

 in purgatory. Fathers have sworn to it, and wished 

 they had been childless. Weak, sickly, rickety, chick- 

 en-breasted, crooked, decrepit, spine-distorted Sally, 

 scarcely nine years old, to that leering deformed dwarf 

 Daniel, answers obscenity to obscenity, at which the 

 street-walking prostitute would shudder, and fear the 

 downfall of the day of judgment !" 



INFANT LAEOR IN ENGLISH FACTORIES. 



At the close of an article on this subject, in an English 

 magazine — in which many instances of cruel suffering 

 are related — the following verses are given.* 



Many of our readers will find it difficult to realize the 

 scenes we have placed before them, — scenes so abhorent 

 to the feelings, as to find admission into the mind only 

 with great difliculty. Verse will sometimes gain a way 

 where dry prose is rejected from the memory. An af- 

 fecting fact, stated by the witness Gillet Sharp (page 

 210 of the Evidence) has been thrown into rhyme, and 

 we give it, without consulting the writer. Let the read- 

 er observe, that it conveys merely a simple statement of 

 a fiict which really took place, and which, we fear we 

 must add, is of no uncommon occurrence. 



" 'Twas on a winter's morning, 



The weather wet and wild, 

 Three hours before the dawning, 



The father roused his child ; 

 Her daily morsel bringing, 



The darksome room he paced. 

 And cried, 'The bell is ringing. 



My hapless darling, haste !" 



' Father, I'm up, but weary, 



I scarce can reach the door. 

 And long the way and dreary, — 



O carry me once more ! 

 To help us we've no mother, 



And you've no employ ; 

 They killed my little brother, — 



Like him I'll work and die !' 



Her wasted form seem'd nothing, — 



The load was at his heart ; 

 The sufferer he kept soothing 



Till at the mill they part. 

 The overlooker met her. 



As to her frame she crept, 

 And with his thong he beat her, 



And cursed her as she v.'ept. 



Alas ! what hours of horror 



Made up her latest day ; 

 In toil, and pain, and sorrow, 



They slowly passed away: 

 It seemed, as she grew weaker, 



The threads the oftener broke, 

 The rapid wheels ran quicker, 



And heavier fell the stroke. 



The sun had long descended. 



But night brought no repose ; 

 Her day began and ended 



As cruel tyrants chose. 



♦ This last article is taken from Littell's Dollar Magazine, and 

 the name of that editor is a sufficient guarantee for the selection 

 having been made truly and honestly. The verses have been 

 published in some of our northern papers deprived of the last 

 stanza. 



