Many versions exist as to the origin of the expression, a “Manchester man,” but it is evident enough that the phrase, like that of a “Lancashire lad,” is a natural alliterative growth. The most widely accepted story, however, is that which tells of a coachman, who, asked “Who has ta gotten in t’ coach, lad?” replied, “Wha, then, ther’s a gentleman fra Liverpool, a man fra Manchester, a chap fra Bolton, an’ a felly fra Wigan.” A Lancashire boy’s definition of a gentleman should not at this point be forgotten. It was given many years since, and was, “one what weers at watch, an’ ligs by hisself.” So now we know that gentility, in these days of cheap watches and a prejudice against sharing a bed, may be within the reach of all. It is no small thing to be a “Manchester man.” The name has a self-reliant ring about it that fits the men of Manchester like a glove, whatever may be the fitness of the other descriptions, or of that other which tells of “Oldham roughs.” The Manchester manufacturer of about 1750, as described by contemporaries, was a humble person, of the greatest simplicity, working like a journeyman among his hands; beginning the day before six o’clock in the morning and ending it proportionably earlier, as the habits of the time and the primitive means of artificial lighting dictated. He both produced the goods and warehoused them, and his combined warehouse and factory was also his home. He not only worked with his weavers, but sat at meals with them, and all helped themselves out of a common bowl of water-porridge, and a dish of milk. No one among the manufacturers had such a thing as a “private residence,” and speech was indeed so simple that none of them probably would have understood the term unless put in more homely English. So much for the mid-eighteenth century cotton-spinner. Let us see how his descendant of about 1866 appeared to his contemporaries. A writer in a popular magazine of that date, holding forth more or less eloquently on the characteristics of Manchester men and Liverpool gentlemen, described a “Liverpool gentleman” as a magnificent person who traded beyond his means and abused his credit, finally, when the inevitable crash came, compounding with his creditors on the basis of three shillings in the pound, and continuing his splendid life with almost undimmed splendour. But a “Manchester man,” according to this apologist, when he breaks, breaks utterly, and, surrendering his all, starts again from below. How these distinctions have borne the test of time I will not pretend to say. At that period, according to this same writer, the typical Manchester man was an imaginary person he chose to style “John Brown.” Putting aside the fact that there is no true or exclusive Lancashire ring about the name of Brown, we will pass on to the career of this typical person, as figured in that bygone writer’s keen imagination.