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ement, the most unpopular speaker will receive a fair
hearing. A fair hearing does not express it. The silence of a Sheffield
audience, the manner in which they drink in every word of a stranger,
carefully watching for the least symptom of humbug, and unreduced by the most
tempting claptrap, is something quite awful.
A man with a good coat on his back must dismiss all attempts at compliments,
all roundabout phrases, and plunge into the middle of the business with the
closest arguments he can muster, to produce any effect on the Sheffield
blades. Although they look on all gentlemen with the greatest distrust, and
have a most comical fear of imaginary emissaries from Government wandering to
and fro to seduce them, they thoroughly understand and practise fair play.
The sterling qualities of these men inspire one with respect, and regret that
they should be imposed upon by such "blageurs" as Feargus O'Connor and his
troop. Perhaps they are wiser now.
The Sheffielders, by way of relaxation, are fond of gardening, cricket, dog
fighting, and formerly of hunting. They are very skilful gardeners,--their
celery is famous. A few years ago, one of the trades hired land to employ
their unemployed members. Many possess freehold cottages.
Cricket and similar amusements have been encouraged by the circumstance that,
in summer droughts, the water-power on which the grindstones depend often
falls short, and then there is a fair reason for turning out to play or to
garden, as the case may be, according to taste.
Sheffield bulldogs used to be very famous, and there are still famous ones to
be found; but dog fighting, with drinking, is going out of fashion.
But, although other towns play at cricket, and love good gardening and good
dogs, we presume that the Sheffielders are the only set of mechanics in
Europe who ever kept their own pack of hounds. Such was the case a few years
ago, when we had the pleasure of seeing them; and, if they are still in
existence, they are worth going a hundred miles to see. The hounds, which
were old English harriers, slow and deep-mouthed, were quartered at various
cottages in the suburbs. On hunting mornings, when the men had a holiday,
the huntsman, who was paid by a general subscription, took his stand on a
particular hill top and blew his horn.
In a few minutes, from all quarters the hounds began to canter up to him, and
he blew and blew again until a full complement, some ten or twelve
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