duced into Leicester for the spinning of sheep's wool, it was decried by the authorities, and the machinery destroyed by the mob. But the invention was hailed as a boon by the towns of Nottingham, Cuckney, Bristol, Warwick, Northampton, Bedworth, &c., on which places we were wholly dependent for worsted for our stocking-makers. Next to the inventions in spinning, we may speak of the improvements in printing the calico. It is by the wonder-working cylinder that the most beautiful patterns are printed in eight to twelve colours at the same moment; and that one is enabled to perform the work which many hundreds might not be able to perform without it. It was in this elegant department of the manufacture that Mr. Cobden first distinguished himself as a man of the highest taste and ingenuity. Though we have conferred the blessings of cheap clothing upon all the nations of the earth, this very cheapness has deprived the poor families of their homespun woollens, which are so much better suited to our variable climate. The general use of cotton cloth, from its great cheapness, has been followed by a dire calamity that of exposing poor children to be burnt to death. They are generally clad in a loose cotton pinafore, which costs but a trifle, and when crowding round a fire, this light material is wafted into the flames by the draught from the opening of a door, and the little creature, in too many instances, is burnt to death. It is supposed that not less than three : 116 JOHN ALLEN AND MRS. GRAY. Chap. 28. thousand children lose their lives in this way every year. Formerly, when clad in woollen stuffs, such accidents were unknown. So it is, that the greatest good is scarcely ever without its attendant evil. CHAPTER XXVIII. JOHN ALLEN AND PHEBE GRAY. John Allen, a cool, calculating Scotchman, came amongst us to practise medicine. His demure and staid appearance won for him general respect. He was a tall, bony man, with sandy hair; without a particle of poetry in his veins. Punctual, cautious, and careful as he was, he never failed to have an eye to the main chance. He lodged at Mrs. Gray's, the confectioner, who had a sprightly daughter, with lily hands and crimson cheeks, whose lips were sweeter than the lollypops in her mother's shop. Mrs. Gray's manners were of the humble sort; but her daughter, Phoebe, was pretty and engaging in whatever she did. Allen, in the height of his generosity, would often tempt Miss Phoebe with some of her mother's "whitehearts"; but she was not to be won in that sweet way her heart was set upon a pink silk in the mercer's window, next door, which she liked better than her mother's commodities. The hint was too broad for the keen Scotchman to mistake. It quite stag |