Summary

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 21: The Last Day in the Old Country (1881)

But the women are not to be baulked of a last look, and as suddenly as they were overcome they recover; and when the train moves, and there are handkerchiefs and faces white and wet at the window openings of that third-class carriage, there is a tremendous waving of "stroikin' colours" on the platform, and such a brave show of delight that, hard as it was to part, those who were left behind were, for their sakes, glad to see the others go, that one could but wish there was no make believe in it, but that it was entirely real.
Source: Wikisource

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 21: The Last Day in the Old Country (1881)

It is tolerably smooth sailing until the pinch comes. Five or six weeks since, in the midst of hopeless poverty and patient belief in better times to come, so thoroughly threadbare and worn out that it seemed a rotten stick indeed to trust to, when there dawned on the poor out-o'-work's family the blessed chance of presently taking ship and sailing away to a land of peace and plenty, there was joy enough.
Source: Wikisource

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 21: The Last Day in the Old Country (1881)

The pinch was coming now, and it was almost enough to make one laugh till the tears came to his eyes to witness the odd kind of hilarity that possessed the emigrants' old friends and neighbours, and by which they intended to make it appear what excellent spirits they were in, and how completely at their ease.
Then the station bell rang, and the London train came sliding in and stood still at the platform. Tides and trains wait for no man, and for a thoroughly unsentimental person commend me to a railway guard or porter.
Source: Wikisource

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