the neighbours from storming the doors, till
the clock struck twelve. A momentary joy
entered the hearts of the Wilderspins at the
sound; but it died away as they sank down
exhausted, and asked each other, with faces
of dismay, whether they were to go through
this again in the afternoon, and every day.

For something as bad as this, though of a
different kind, did the little band of Birmingham
ladies prepare themselves. Almost without
means, they began one evening in
September, 1847.  A room was kindly lent them
by a merchant. The counter was their table,
and for seats they had packing-cases covered
with meal-sacks. Much time must be lost
at the beginning and end of each evening,
from the necessity of putting away everything
and leaving the room as they found
it, for the daily use of the workmen. But
to have any room at all was something.
Thirty-six women appeared the first night,
all unused to being taught, and the teachers were
no more familiar with the sort of teaching
they had undertaken to give. The first thing
done was writing down their names, and their
reasons for wishing to learn this and that.
The eagerness to learn to write was the most
remarkable indication that night; as, perhaps,
it has remained since. One young woman
undertook to give reasons for another's wish
to learn. "Hur wants to write to hur chap."
The "chap" was gone "to Australia;" how
and why there was no occasion to inquire.
There were plenty of reasons for others having
the same wish; and there is something strange
and very impressive, to this day, in the
patience with which these women sit at their
pot-hook making—sometimes in the
knowledge of what they are undertaking, and
sometimes in simple faith that they are going
through a necessary process. One woman
made O's in her copy-book for weeks; and
then being set to join on an l, was delighted
to find that she had made a d, and could
write the first letter of her own name. Some
are less humble; and there is more conceit
about the reading than about writing. One
woman complained that she was treated
like a child, in having to learn o, x, ox, and in
being asked what it meant; "as if," said she,
"everybody didn't know that a hox is a
cow!"  Owing to a curious local circumstance
writing is remarkably difficult to one
class of the scholars—those who polish papier-
mâché articles by hand. The palm must be
kept perfectly smooth; and, in the act of
constantly preserving it from contact with
whatever would roughen it, the fingers
become stiff, and of an unusual form, which,
though favourable to the use of the needle, is
much otherwise to that of the pen. Yet the
learners stick to their writing, as if nothing
could discourage them.

Of the thirty-six who first presented themselves
many were married and had families;
yet there were only three—and they were
dress-makers—who could cut out or fix any
one article of their own clothing. About
three-fifths did not know how to hem or
seam, when the prepared work was put into
their hands. It must be understood, too,
that many declare and believe themselves
able to sew who cannot do it passably. One
woman was surprised at being asked to hem
a sleeve; a thing which she made very light
of. The sleeve was presented in five minutes
—finished.  At a single pull, the thread came
out from end to end, and she was shown how
to do it properly; when she was more
surprised than ever to find that her work was
unfinished when school was over. It is still
difficult to induce them to learn what is most
important in the sewing way. They will not
bring clothes to mend; and they prefer
making gowns to all humbler work.  A
variety of work is provided through the help
of a benevolent draper, who gives his
contribution to the school in the form of whole
pieces, at the lowest cost price, of calico,
flannel, prints, &c.  The garments cut out
and made, for instruction, at the school, are
bought by the women at the cost of the
material; and this may tend to strengthen
the disinclination to bring mending work
from home. There can be no question of the
good done by the sewing lessons; of the
pride and comfort introduced at home by
somebody there being dressed in clothes of
the wife's or sister's "own making;" and it
may be hoped that the same happy
consequences may follow from the instruction in
cookery, whenever the kitchen is opened;
though the women are as certain that they
can cook as they ever were that they could
sew.

Poor things!   Penalties do visit them,
from their ignorance of household business,
which might open their eyes to their own
position, one would think. What a story we
heard, the other day, of a first matrimonial
quarrel!  A young  couple married on a
Tuesday, all love and gaiety. On the next
Sunday, the bridegroom was to be introduced
to his wife's family. The bride was so
anxious that he should look his best, that she
spent all Friday and Saturday  (to the neglect
of her own finery)  in making ready his one
white shirt  (his weekly wear being check).
She learned that starched cambric fronts were
"all the go,"  so she starched and starched
away, and finished late on Saturday night—
tired and happy. On Sunday morning, her
husband found his shirt starched all over,
stiff enough to stand alone; and, of course,
unwearable.  He cursed her for a good-for-
nothing slattern; terrified her with oaths;
and so was broken up, thus early, their
matrimonial peace. Neither of them knew how
to get the starch out again; and this did not
mend the matter. This is but one case in a
million.  Young men see girls—very respectable
steady workers—with coral necklaces,
neat hair, well braided, and with some pretty
net or tie upon it, gowns well made, and, on