upports
it, the poor as much as the rich. If every rich man withdrew from the
system, the working class and socialists would keep it going, every man
in the hope of getting rich himself at last. It's the people that are
wrong. They want the system much more than the rich do--because they are
much more anxious to be rich--never having been rich, poor devils.

MR. BARLOW. Just the system. So I decided at last that the best way was
to give every private help that lay in my power. I would help my men
individually and personally, wherever I could. Not one of them came
to me and went away unheard; and there was no distress which could be
alleviated that I did not try to alleviate. Yet I am afraid that the
greatest distress I never heard of, the most distressed never came to
me. They hid their trouble.

ANABEL. Yes, the decent ones.

MR. BARLOW. But I wished to help--it was my duty. Still, I think that,
on the whole, we were a comfortable and happy community. Barlow &
Walsall's men were not unhappy in those days, I believe. We were
liberal; the men lived.

OLIVER. Yes, that is true. Even twenty years ago the place was still
jolly.

MR. BARLOW. And then, when Gerald was a lad of thirteen, came the great
lock-out. We belonged to the Masters' Federation--I was but one man on
the Board. We had to abide by the decision. The mines were closed till
the men would accept the reduction.--Well, that cut my life across. We
were shutting the men out from work, starving their families, in order
to force them to accept a reduction. It may be the condition of
trade made it imperative. But, for myself, I would rather have
lost everything.--Of course, we did what we could. Food was very
cheap--practically given away. We had open kitchen here. And it was
mercifully warm summer-time. Nevertheless, there was privation and
suffering, and trouble and bitterness. We had the redcoats down--even
to guard this house. And from this window I saw Whatmore head-stocks
ablaze, and before I could get to the spot the soldiers had shot two
poor fellows. They were not killed, thank God---

OLIVER. Ah, but they enjoyed it--they enjoyed it immensely. I remember
what grand old sporting weeks they were. It was like a fox-hunt,
so lively and gay--bands and tea-parties and excitement everywhere,
pit-ponies loose, men all over the country-side---

MR. BARLOW. There was a great deal of suffering, which you were too
young to appreciate. However, since that year