Memoirs of a Surrey Labourer: A Record of the Last Years of Frederick BettesworthSturt, George
History
Memoirs of a Surrey Labourer: A Record of the Last Years of Frederick Bettesworth
Sturt, George
Surrey (England) -- Fiction; Working class -- Fiction
It would take long, too, to tell of his morning in his own words,
beginning with the early walk to Moorways for the relieving officer's
order, and telling how old chums starting off to work were astonished
to see him thus unwontedly on the road, and what they said as he
passed them by as if with a renewal of vigour, and how one was
"puffed, tryin' to keep up." The long waiting at the office door (the
officer had been out in his garden getting up potatoes), and
Bettesworth's meditations, "I wish he'd come," and the instructions
furnished him as to how to go on--they were all narrated simply,
because they happened; but the touch of grey morning mist which
somehow pervaded the talk while I was hearing it could not be
reproduced with its words. The old man was back here soon after eight
o'clock, on his way to the town to order the fly which should take his
wife to the infirmary. He had had no breakfast. I gave him tea and
bread and butter; but he left the bread and butter--couldn't swallow
it, he said. He had had a glass of beer at the Moorways Inn.
He went into the town, and I met him on the road, returning. The fly
proprietor had recognized him and behaved kindly. "Got a bit o'
trouble then, old gentleman?" Yes, the fly should be there to the
minute.
At noon, to the minute, it arrived, the driver of it being a son of an
old neighbour of Bettesworth's. Meanwhile, Bettesworth's niece, "Liz,"
and a neighbour's wife--a Mrs. Eggar--whom he spoke of as "Kate," were
there trying to dress the old woman--and failing. They got her
stockings on, but no boots; a petticoat or so, but no bodice with
sleeves; and for that much they had to struggle, even calling on
Bettesworth to come upstairs and help them. Then the fly came, "and
all she kep' sayin' was, 'Leave me to die at home. I wants to die at
home'" and she fought and would not be moved.
To get her downstairs the help of two men besides the driver was
enlisted, Kate's husband being one of them. By a kindly policy,
Bettesworth himself was sent to hold the horse ("'cause he wanted to
start off"), in order that the sight of her husband might not
increase the poor old woman's reluctance; and so they carried her
downstairs, "bodily," he said, meaning, I suppose, that she did not
support herself at all.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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