mischief! And yet, who knows? It may all
turn out for the best, after all."

And, for some quarter of an hour, the gay-
hearted buoyant Irish girl remained in a
very unwonted mood of silence and
contemplation.

OUT OF COLLAR.

CONSIDERING the limited and common-place
sphere of action to which they are confined,
there are few who experience more frequent
and abrupt changes of fortune, more ups and
downs in the world, than the working classes—
the utility people of the great drama of life.
The position of a working man is at all times
an exceedingly precarious one, and is more
readily and seriously influenced by
circumstances beyond his own control, than the
position of almost any other class of men. And, in
a general way, there is nothing that so materially
and frequently affects the well-being and
social position of a working man, as the
circumstances arising from being, in his own phrase,
"out of collar," that is, his being unable to
obtain work when he is able to do it, and anxious
to get it to do.

Out of collar, in its least aggravated form,
means distress of mind, curtailment of the
ordinary comforts and necessities of life, the
expenditure of the little savings that may have
been laid by for sickness or old age, the
getting into debt in the books of the small
shopkeeper, ultimately, perhaps, the breaking
up of a home, the selling of "the few sticks
of furniture," and the "trapesing" across
the country of the wife and family to join the
bread-winner in the far-away town in which
he may have again found employment. To
many, it means an empty cupooard, a
fireless grate, scanty clothing, a starving wife
and family, sickness of body and mind, brought
on by these ills at a time when they are
least prepared to battle with it. To some, it
means days of dull weary footsore tramping
from town to town. And to all it means anxious
inquiry where men are wanted, or trade is good,
earnest letters or personal entreaties to friends
and acquaintances to "speak for them," "put
a good word in for them," or otherwise use
their influence to get them work. Finally,
the hanging about workshop gates, the often
fruitless attempts to see "the gaffer," the
dispiriting replies of "We're full-handed," "No
chance," "We're discharging hands," received
in answer to application for work.

Working men, as a body, may sometimes be
given to grumbling without much cause; but
they are by no means wont to make loud or open
complaint of the inevitable distresses incidental
to their position in life. Even when out of
work they try to put a good face upon the matter.
But while they bravely bear, they know and
keenly fear and feel, the ills resulting from
being out of collar. In a large workshop,
when hands are being "sacked," the wistful
glances that attend the office-boy as he goes
round with the notices of discharge, the
anxious inquiries who has, who has not, got
"the bullet," the relieved looks of those who
have not got it, and the pale faces and shaking
hands which belie the affected don't-careishness
of some of those who have, all testify to the
working man's dread of the grim consequences
of being out of employment.

The loss of work does not, of course, affect
all men in the same manner or degree. To a
young unmarried man who has a few pounds
and a suit or two of good clothes by him, and
who is a member of a trade club, it may
be a matter of comparatively little moment:
while to the married man who has a wife and a
number of children who "can neither work nor
want," dependent upon him, it may be a matter
of life or death. The proceedings of those who
are out of work are in a great measure guided
by, and dependent upon, family circumstances.
In the metropolitan districts and the larger
manufacturing towns of the provinces, where
there are a number of establishments in the same
branch of trade, there are workmen who, having
been born in those districts, or settled in them
early in life, never leave them, however trade
may fluctuate. They may have friends or
relations in the town, able to afford them some
assistance in time of need; they may—and
in the factory and hardware towns usually do—
have children at work. They are known in
the neighbourhood in which they reside. By
the aid of children's wages, a little assistance
from friends, and credit with the small tradesmen
to whom they are known, they manage, when
out of work, to keep their household together
until "things take a turn," and they get into
employment again. This is about as settled
a kind of life as the great body of working men
can hope to attain. To those men, however,
and more especially the unmarried men, who
lack the means or inclination to "hang on" in
any particular district until they can get work
there again, nothing remains but to go on tramp,
or, as they generally put it, go on the road.

What the working man understands by this,
is simply a working man travelling on foot
from town to town in search of employment,
and having, as a rule, the means wherewith
to provide himself with a crust during the day,
and a humble place in which to lay his head
at night. All kinds of workmen are occasionally
obliged to "take to the road," but the class who
are most frequently found on tramp are the
mechanics who are members of trade unions. For
them, the road is deprived of half its terrors and
inconveniences. The donation which, when out
of employment, they receive from their union, is
sufficient to relieve them from all apprehension
of absolute starvation. In almost every town
they have their club-house, at which they will
perhaps meet some old mate, and at all times
find fellow-unionists and brother-craftsmen who
will receive them in good-fellowship, and
furnish them with reliable information as to the
state of trade and the chances of obtaining