on a larger scale than in most others.
It is when employed on works like these that the navvies are found gathered in the greatest numbers, and that their needs cry out most loudly. Their work often lies so far from town or village that it is necessary to find for them accommodation on the spot. Huts are built, and mushroom villages, sometimes of considerable size, spring up and remain for years. It is in such places that the best opportunites are found, as well as the most pressing need for ministering to the social, intellectual, and above all the spiritual needs of the navvies. It was in such a village—of which I hope before long to give my readers a fuller description—that my first acquaintance was formed with the species navvy. But before I do so I should like to introduce to them an individual of the species, and to let him tell in his own words something of himself and his fellows, and of their manner of life.
I chanced one day to get into a third-class carriage on one of our northern railways, and to travel some distance with a navvy as my sole companion. There was a time when I should have preferred to get into another carriage, but having learnt to take a friendly interest in navvies generally, I rather rejoiced at the opportunity of friendly communication with any member of the class. In this case my friend was a man of middle age. Rather above the middle height, he displayed a breadth and depth of chest which told plainly enough of strength and endurance. His features and fair complexion were of the type so distinctively English. He had on the thick nailed boots, the canvas trousers, and pea-jacket, which, with the soft wide-awake hat, complete the dress of the true navvy; between his knees
