ABEL DRAKE'S WIFE.

INTRODUCTION.

We are so used to think of a mill or factory as necessarily forming part of a great ugly conglomerate of similar buildings, as situated in towns where the sooty atmosphere above is only in too complete a harmony with the muddy streets below,—as washed by foul "becks," (or streams,) and surrounded by a stricken vegetation, that it is not easy to make the reader, who may happen to have no personal knowledge of the district in question, understand how numerous are the exceptions to so depressing a view of our manufacturing industry. Yet one might undertake to show, within a very few miles of Manchester itself, scenes of picturesque, romantic, and almost sublime beauty, the qualities of which seem to have been first appreciated by that very mill-owner whose doings so often give us the impression that, through some strange cala

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mity, beauty is with him but a lost sense. Between Manchester and Sheffield, and again between Manchester and Leeds, including the future classic land of Ebenezer Elliott,-who lived to see a tunnel, some three miles long, driven through his beloved "Stannedge, tipped with fire," --many are the factories scattered about in individual dignity of isolation; and each occupying a site that, at first glance, would seem to have been chosen with a most poetic disregard of any other consideration than its extreme loveliness. But as they appear before you in rapid succession (supposing you to be a traveller by the rail), you cannot fail to note one common characteristic which explains all, the little streams in front, which formed originally, and in many cases, we believe, still form, the moving power of the machinery, and which everywhere supply the indispensable element of purification. Hence the reservoirs, with their grassy, lawn-like margins, so carefully preserved round the base of the factory; hence the selection of those solitary and picturesque valley bot

toms.

Hence, too, occasionally occurs a felicitous mingling on the same spot of the two oldest and most necessary of industrial arts, those relating to the growth of our food and to the preparation of our clothing. The single factory will not spoil the air for cultivation, but it will quicken the cultivator's industry by its demands, and diffuse new life into the rustic mind by its own vital energy,

On the other hand, the artisan walks to his work through sweet, wild, or majestic scenery; and he labours in a place where he can never feel entirely shut out from that communion with nature for which man everywhere so instinctively yearns, as for his first love,—and which, with men of his class, is often the passion of a lifetime. Let but a door open, or the wind penetrate through some crevice, and in an instant his thoughts may be borne away to the wild flowers, or the new-mown hay, or the bean-field, which are wooing him so seductively by their scents.

In such a scene as this, though enjoying a more profound seclusion than the neighbourhood of a railway permits, occurred, a few years ago, the incidents now about to be narrated.

CHAPTER I.

BARBARA.

Ir was early; an hour before the factory bell would ring for breakfast, and but few of the chimneys in the village had begun to smoke. A white mist clung about the steeple of the church, and floated over the distant Lancashire hills, making them look like great moving clouds on the horizon. It lay, too, across the bottom of the valley, and converted the black stalk of the factory into a dim palace-like spire or airy column. The village on the hill side-not at all a modern one-looked so quiet and still that everything in it seemed in a dream. The birds kept sinking their voices to whispers, and the very cocks crowed weakly, as if they were dubious about the time. Toys left by children lying about the cottage gardens; implements of labour dropped by aching hands only a few hours before, looked as they lay low in the wet grass, or sank into the moist soil, to be taking an eternal rest. It was hard to believe that in a few minutes those toys would be found and rejoiced over, and another day's labour be demanded of the tools.