In those walks the nursemaids and children, and dainty folk, are wandering as usual airing their curls in the fresh breeze; and only now and then a workless operative trails by with chastened look.

The wail of sorrow is not heard in Preston market-place; but destitution may be found almost anywhere there just now, cowering in squalid corners, within a few yards of plenty--as I have seen it many a time this week.

The courts and alleys behind even some of the main streets swarm with people who have hardly a whole nail left to scratch themselves with.
Before attempting to tell something of what I saw whilst wandering amongst the poor operatives of Preston, I will say at once, that I do not intend to meddle with statistics.

They have been carefully gathered, and often given elsewhere, and there is no need for me to repeat them.

But, apart from these, the theme is endless, and full of painful interest.