Note: This is an entry from the journal of James Nye while he was serving his mission in England. His daily entry usually made note of the weather for that day and how far and mode of travel for the day.
James Nye
Friday Nov 6/85
A beautiful morning, clear and bright, cold and frosty. I stay in the house reading (at Fred Ford’s where I always stay in Tonbridge) the children are dreadful trying to their Mother (who is deaf) if she puts some sugar into a bowl from a paper on the table, while she turns round to put the paper away, two or three of the boys dip their dirty hands into the bowl then ram their hand Into their mouth and if she is not quick they will have a second dip, there are four of these boys the eldest nine and the youngest two years of age, she (the Mother) chops up some seuet to make a pudding, the three younger (the eldest of which has staid away from school to day) are up around the table grabing the seuet from under the knife, getting that chopped, turns it into the dish, puts her flour in with it and before she can get her hands in to mix it two of the boys have got their hands into it, she yells at one, Knocks the other; when she has it mixed each one of the three boys receive a piece of the dough to play cook with the younger one get his on a chair then goes for his Mother rolling pin and rolls it till it is daubed all over the chair.
Then the mother gets some apples to peal, now they are all three round grabing the peelings from her knife, and such a quareling and squaling one seldom hears, when she has her apples ready; now where’s my rolling pin? The young scamp has it on the floor! She get that, picks up her apron and wipes it, rolls out her paste, gets in all ready to tye up! “Now where is my pudding clothes? I hung them out there last night: she hunts all over the place for them but can not find them, finaly she substitutes something else, get her puddings into the sauspan over the fire, she found her pudding clothes, now she is peeling some potatoes, but only one of the boys bothering her now, and he divides
his time between his mother and me, while I am writing, he sticks his doughie fingars in my book, and turns over the leaves, now he has the fire shovel scraping the paste off the chair: by george! It needs an Elder with a good stomach and an appetite like a bitch wolf to eat a meal in some of the houses we visit, now the little fellow (three years) is down on the floor—he has no pants on—showing his naked dirty legs and bottom and he looks as if he was half froze now he has hid himself in the cupboard and pulled the door after him, these four boys beat all the boys I have seen in my travels. Now these two youngsters have a quarel on, they have a heavy shoe hammer and a little stool, the larger one kicks the leser one with his heavy shoes, and the lesser one strikes the larger with the hammer, they are both large lusty boys and the way they fight, yell, and baul is a caution, “Oh, gracious,” the mother has now set the table for dinner, and while she is in the back room the young kids are lugging spoons, knives and forks, plates off the table and bringing to me, and as I take them from one or cause him to put them back, here comes the other, now as soon as I take out my book to make these notes, they come with their dirty grimy hands full of spoons and right across my book as I write on my knee. Now the three year old has the plate set for me to eat off pulled to another part of the table wiping it out with his hand while he has a spoon stuck in his mouth with the other, dinner is now ready, I and the woman and the three children sit down to eat, she previous to sitting to the table filled all the plate with food, in my plate are potatoes so waxy that they resemble a tapioca pudding, a piece of beefsteak— purchased expressly for me—it is very thick, was put in the pan over the fire, turned over: and taken out on to the table, it was not warmed through, and a piece of seuet pudding, a nice clean white cloth was put on the table, but before we get through dinner it looks like it had hung over a pig pen where half a dozen, half fed, half grown pigs are kept and they had been climbing up with their fore paws on the top of the pen, and then to see the youngster claw their hands into the dish for the meat, and put the potatoes with their hand back into the potatoe dish, I wonder if a fellow needs an appetite to eat under such circumstances? Well I get away with what is on my plate and wait for the apple pudding, which, when it comes on is very good, if some of the apples had been peeled by the youngsters teeth. Perhaps some who may chance to look over these notes may think this picture rather exagerated, but I asure the reader that it is very mildly drawn.
Now I think I will take a walk to digest my dinner. I walk out to the powder mills, my cousen was not at the gate, but I meet Mr Gray the superintendent of the works, he tells me where to find my cousen is and gives me the privelege to walk over the works till I find him, he knows me to be a relative of Mr. Fords and makes no objection to my looking over the works at any time I come round. I walk down to the Salt peter refinery and find Fred there working on the barge filling it up ready to load in gun powder, the Government are very particular about the shipment of it, every iron bolt, ring, nail or plate must be covered up with sacking, then large they were while washing before covering all over with sacking, they are going to load in twentyfive tons of powder to send round to Gravesend, when they send out government powder, they send a man with it to see that it is properly handled, I met Geo. Ford, foreman of the works and he took me over to see the new prism press at work, it is beautiful piece of machinery, but of this I will speak in my article on the manufacture of gun powder, which I expect to write up in a short time, I return, and now I am back in the house trying to make a few notes the confounded kids are worrying me to death, they would never take any notice of me before: it has been a beautiful day the nicest day I have seen for two months, but it is quite fogy to night, I think I have made notes enough for one day and tea is about ready too, it is bout half past six. I have walked five miles to day, and am stiff after my walk yesterday.
(Note: On the previous day he indicates he walked fourteen miles)
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