Page:The Monthly chronicle of North-country lore and legend - volume 1.djvu/230

222 figures which he wrought upon the linen or cotton committed to his care. He first cut out the patterns in cardboard, then laid them on the cloth, which was stretched upon a frame, and with chalk or pencil marked the outline of the flower or leaf which the taste of his employers had selected. He soon came to have a stock of excellent figures, and, being popular with the lady members of families, his services appear to have been greatly in request. As a workman, he seems to have occupied a high place. Specimens of his work were known in different parts of England, and even Ireland and America heard of his fame.

Joe spent the latter days of his life in, a small cottage in the parish of Warden, situated on the road between Warden church and the village of Chollerford, and over-looking the North Tyne. The locality was at that period (as it is now) lonely and retired, and went by the name of "Homer's Lonnin." The cottage itself was unpretentious enough, although it was called Homer's House for what reason is not apparent. Low walls, a thatched roof, moss-covered stones, and weeds that made the rotten thatch look green, formed the beau-ideal of a witch or warlock's dwelling: but in connection with Joe it was merely known as the habitation of a human being of powers not exceeding the bounds set to those of ordinary humanity, except in the particular province of kindness to all living creatures. It is, of course, natural that people who knew the "Hermit of Warden" should speak highly, even to exaggeration, of his good qualities when he was robbed of life in a manner at once so brutal and so mysterious. But the truth remains that the burden of all that was written of the unfortunate creature at the time was greatly and unreservedly to his praise, while certain facts indicate that he was not neglected during his life. His place of habitation secured for him the name of Hermit, though the quality of a recluse seems to have had a very slight hold of his character. The cottage was pulled down in 1872, so that all landmarks of the mournful tragedy have vanished, leaving nothing to recall the circumstance but the silent page of the local historian. A painting of the humble domicile, however, was made before its removal, and from it we have taken a sketch, reproduced from a photograph by Mr. Gibson, of Hexham.

The Quilter did not at one time occupy his cottage alone. Like other men, he had married; but his married life proved in the end to be a burden and a severe drain on his slender resources. His partner was much older than himself, and was, besides, confined to bed for eight years before her death. Joe met the adverse circumstances manfully. With true affection he nursed his ailing wife through her lingering trouble, performed all domestic operations, and watched over her till she died. Having alternated the lighter labour of quilting with a turn at the reclamation of a piece of waste land near

his dwelling, Joe in course of time managed to convert it into a garden, where gooseberries grew which young couples from neighbouring farms and villages came to share with each other on Sunday afternoons. Some people possess a happy aptitude for putting blushing lovers at their ease, and there are others before whom the tender passion dare not and cannot show itself. The Quilter belonged to the former class, and his conversation or banter seems to have been as acceptable to his young visitors as his supply of fruit. Joe had another class of visitors, and this feature of his story recalls an interesting phase of social life. There were pedlars and beggars in those days. The joint profession was rather an honourable one than otherwise. The members of the tribe often acted the part of newspapers, and carried from house to house the latest intelligence and the most highly flavoured accounts of the exciting in fact, the horrible in fancy, or the supernatural in gross superstition. In lonely farm-houses the beggar with a wallet of news was, metaphorically speaking, "high placed in hall a welcome guest." Joe's cottage was often the resort of the more respectable of these peripatetic vendors of household necessities or articles of ornamentation, which found a ready market when going from home was not so common as now, and when shops were fewer and further between. By this means the Quilter added to his popularity with his neighbours and the public generally; for he got good stories from these wandering visitors, and he could retail them with considerable effect. It is even said that Joe at some time of his life connived at smuggling, which is scarcely surprising when we consider the times and the character of many of his guests. The secluded position of Joe's cottage must have suited this business wonderfully well, although it does not appear that it had ever been carried on under his eyes to any considerable extent. The distance of his home from neighbouring habitations seems to have made him liable to other dangers besides the temptation of baulking the exciseman; and it is reported that he would have perished from want during a severe snowstorm had not a Hexham clergyman the Rev. R. Clarke, to whom, we believe, the late General Gordon was distantly related gone through the drifts to his assistance after other efforts to reach him had failed. This occurred in 1823, three years previous to Joe's miserable death.

A mystery deep and as yet unfathomed hangs around the end of honest Joe. On the evening of Tuesday, January 3rd, 1826, he returned to his cottage, having been at Walwick Grange in the afternoon. He had brought home his pitcher of milk, with other marks of the kindness of the farmer's wife. About six o'clock, William Herdman, a labourer living at Wall, called on returning from his work to sit with him for a few minutes. Joe had a good fire, and was preparing some