Today in 1872

Thursday, Maunday, 28th March 1872

 
As I came away from school this afternoon a man standing by the finger-post accosted me and asked if I had any work for him to do.He said he was a Shropshire man named Wilding from the town of Bridgenorth. He was by trade a hatter and was cleaning hats and coats along the road to help him down to Cardiff where there was a manufactory and where he hoped to get work. He was penniless he said. He had not been able to get a piece of work to do all day though he had tried hard. He was fasting and wet through. 'Feel my coat, Sir,' he said. I felt his coat. It was drenched, soaked with pitiless rain. 'Can you help me, your reverence ?' he said, and he called me by my name. 'How do you know my name?' I asked. 'I learnt it in the village, Sir.' He was a fine manly-looking fellow with a black moustache and his address was manly and pleasant, respectful and self-respectful. But there was a mute appeal in his dark brown fine eyes, which I could not resist. His eyes seemed ready to fill with tears and they had the imploring piteous despairing look of an animal in distress. My heart melted within me. I could not refuse him and I took a shilling from my purse. 'For the sake of the old county,' I said. 'My family are from Shropshire too. Cheer up. Better luck tomorrow.' 'God bless you, Sir, for your kindness,' he asaid. And as he spoke I thought there was a tear in his eye.