Ghosts of our Past

Introduction

I walked into work as usual on November 17th 1794. I was working at a printing press just outside the Lake District at the time. I soaked up the smell of newly printed papers and strode up to Mr Hartley, my boss. I had been warned that the day was going to be busy and prepared myself for the long list of jobs I was about to be given.

"Sir," I enquired as I walked through his office door. "I have come to receive my duties for today."

"Ah, yes, Thomas. You will have most of the day off today. The only thing for you will be a delivery," Mr Hartley droned in usual monotonous way. Despite his nonchalance, I was stunned by this response. Mr Hartley regularly layered jobs on me first thing in the morning. I was accustomed to working long hours, printing hundreds of copies of documents before taking a pony and trap across the Northern part of England to deliver my labours. Yet I did not respite the idea- who was I to complain about such little work?- and gladly took up his proposition.

"Sir, where shall I be delivering to? And what?" I asked, trying my hardest to not to sound pleased at this break in work.

"Oh, just a few copies of the Bible to a church in Yorkshire. It won't be too difficult. Indeed, it will be nice for you to get out a bit," and Mr Hartley was right. Sometimes it was enjoyable travelling, especially with the smug knowledge that the rest of the company would be hard at work.

I had no idea just how much I would wish to be in their position.