The women mostly dress the same, and there are no stylish shapes in the men's 'oils' and guernseys.

Then, they call no man 'master.' God is their employer, and from His hand they take their daily bread.

And they don't set themselves up against Him, and grumble about their small wages and their long hours.

And if the weather is bad, and they are kept off a sea that no boat could live in, they don't grumble like Yorkshire men do, when warehouses are overstocked and trade nowhere, and employers hev to make shorter hours and less pay." "What then ?" "The men smoke a few more pipes, and the women spin a few more hanks of wool.

And in the long evenings there's a good bit of violin-playing and reciting, but there's no murmuring against their Great Master.