little
cottage. A good-looking young Irishwoman sat there, upon a three-
legged stool, suckling her child. She was clean; and had an
intelligent look. "Let's see, missis," said the visitor, "what do
you pay for this nook?" "We pay eighteenpence a week--and they WILL
have it--my word." "Well, an' what income have you now?" "We have
eighteenpence a head in the week, an' the rent to pay out o' that,
or else they'll turn us out." Of course, the visitor knew that this
was true; but he wanted me to hear the people speak for themselves.
"Let's see, Missis Burns, your husband's name is Patrick, isn't it?"
" Yes, sir; Patrick Burns." "What! Patrick Burns, the famous foot-
racer?" The little woman smiled bashfully, and replied, "Yes, sir; I
suppose it is." With respect to what the woman said about having to
pay her rent or turn out, I may remark, in passing, that I have not
hitherto met with an instance in which any millowner, or wealthy
man, having cottage property, has pressed the unemployed poor for
rent. But it is well to remember that there is a great amount of
cottage property in Preston, as in other manufacturing towns, which
belongs to the more provident class of working men. These working
men, now hard pressed by the general distress, have been compelled
to fall back upon their little rentals, clinging to them as their
last independent means of existence. They are compelled to this,
for, if they cannot get work, they cannot get anything else, having
property. These are becoming fewer, however, from day to day. The
poorest are hanging a good deal upon those a little less poor than
themselves; and every link in the lengthening chain of neediness is
helping to pull down the one immediately above it. There is, also, a
considerable amount of cottage property in Preston, belonging to
building societies, which have enough to do to hold their own just
now. And then there is always some cottage property in the hands of
agents.

Leaving Heatley Street, we went to a place called "Seed's Yard."
Here we called upon a clean old stately widow, with a calm, sad
face. She had been long known, and highly respected, in a good
street, not far off, where she had lived for twenty-four years, in
fair circumstances, until lately. She had always owned a good
houseful of furniture; but, after making bitter meals upon the
gradual wreck of it, she had been compelled to break up that house,
and retire with her five children to lodge with a lone wi