LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE YORKSHIRE ODDITIES. YORKSHIRE ODDITIES, INCIDENTS, AND STRANGE EVENTS. BY S. BARING-GOULD, M.A, AUTHOR OF "curious MYTHS OF THE MIDDLE AGES," "ICELAND: ITS SCENES AND SAGAS — THE BOOK OF WERE-WOLVES," ETC. ' There be such a company of wilful gentlemen within Yorkshire as there be not in all England besides.''— ^(5fo^ of York to Cromwell, 1556, Rolls House MS. VOL. I. Cf;triJ <£Dttton. JOHN HODGES, 24, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, LONDON. 1877. PREFACE. A RESIDENCE of many years in Yorkshire, and an inveterate habit of collecting all kinds of odd and out-of-the-way information con- cerning men and matters, furnished me, when I left Yorkshire in 1872, with a large amount of material, collected in that county, relating to its eccentric children. A friend, when he heard that I was col- lecting such material, exclaimed, " What are you about ? Every other Yorkshireman is a character!" Such is the case. No other county produces so much originality — and that originality, when carried to excess, is eccentricity. I look back with the greatest pleasure to the kindness and hospitality I met with in Yorkshire, where I spent some of the happiest years of my life. I venture to offer this col- lection of memoirs of odd people, and narrative of strange events, as a humble vi Preface, contribution to the annals of the greatest, not perhaps only in extent, of our English counties, and a slight return for the pleasant welcome it afforded a migratory penman from the South INDEX TO VOL. L -:o: The Ghost of Trinity Church, York Peter Priestley, the Wakefield Parish Clerk " Old Boots " . . . . Foster Powell, the Pedestrian Prophet Wroe .... Bishop-dyke Pond Snowden Dunhill, the Convict. James Naylor, the Quaker " Old Three Laps "... Christopher Pivett David Turton, Musician at Horbury John Bartendale, the Piper Blind Jack of Knaresborough . " Peg Pennyworth " . . Peter Barker, the Blind Joiner The White House Jemmy Hirst, an Oddity The Tragedy of Beningbrough Hall A Yorkshire Butcher The Old Yorkshire Tyke . The One-Pound Note . Benjamin Preston, Provincial Poet I 13 19 20 23 56 62 89 102 108 109 117 120 173 177 183 191 222 229 243 245 267 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. THE GHOST OF TRINITY CHURCH, YORK. OME years ago I heard mention made of an apparition said to have been seen in Trinity- Church, Micklegate, York, which at the moment excited my curiosity. But as I heard no more about it, it passed out of my mind. In 1869 I was invited to deliver a lecture at Middles- borough, when I met a clergyman who introduced himself to me as an old acquaintance. We had not met for soir.e years, and then he had been a boy at school. About a week after I left Middlesborough I received from him the following letter : — I. "Easter Sunday Evening, 1869. " Dear Mr. Baring-Gould, "I venture, from the slight acquaintance I am happy to have with you personally, and the deeper one I have with your tastes from external sources, to enclose for your perusal a narrative of a perfectly true event, drawn up Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. by myself some few years ago, at the request of some friends who doubted the truth of the circumstances therein related. If you have ever heard anything of it, and can help me in explaining it, I shall be grateful, as it per- plexes me, as one always is teased when something which one cannot account for has been brought to one's notice. " Mr. S is going in a few Sundays to preach at the very church in York where this took place, and this bring- ing again before my mind the spectacle I then saw, caused me to apply to my friends for the account I gave them, and I now send it to you. I could, if you are interested, supply some minor details, but better by word of mouth, if ever we meet again. The only correction I should make is this : You will find that I relate a sequence of events, and I am not quite satisfied in my own mind that I have given the order of the incidents exactly as they occurred, and it is possible that I may have inverted them. At the time I was so startled that I was more intent on observing the figures than noting what was the succession in the scenes, if I may use the expression. Indeed, each reappearance was a surprise ; and when I tried to recall each incident in the order in which it occurred, I found that though I could recall the appearance distinctly before my mind's eye, yet I could not swear to which scene preceded the other. '' This was the only occasion of my visiting the church. I confess the impression left on my nerves was not pleasant, and I do not think I should like to risk the effect of a repetition of it. Apologising for thus troubling you with my experiences, " I remain, yours very truly, "A. B. The Ghost of Trinity Churchy York. 3 "P.S.— The Incumbent, Mr. W , has left, and another, Mr. M , has now the living of Holy Trinity, Micklegate." The following account, dated 1866, was enclosed in the letter :— "Whilst staying in York at this time last year (1865), or perhaps a little earlier, I first heard of the apparitions or ghosts supposed to be seen in Trinity Church, Micklegate. I felt curious to see a ghost, I confess, if such a thing is to be seen without the usual concomitants of a dark night and a lone house. Accordingly I went to the church for morning service on a blazing hot Sunday morning in August last, with a girl about thirteen years old and her little brother. " The east window of the church, I must explain, is of stained glass, rather tawdry, and of no particular design, except that the colouring is much richer in the centre than at the sides, and that at the extreme edge there is one pane of unstained glass which runs all round the window. " The peculiarity of the apparition is, that it is seen on the window itself, rather less than half-way from the bottom (as I saw it from the gallery), and has much the same effect as that of a slide drawn through a magic lantern when seen on the exhibiting sheet. The form seen — I am told in- variably — is that of a figure dressed in white walking across the window, and gives the idea of some one passing in the churchyard in a surplice. I say a figure, for the number is generally limited to one, and 1 was told that only on Trinity Sunday did more than one appear, and that then there were three. " But I can vouch for the larger number appearing on 4 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. other occasions, as on the day I was there, which was one of the Sundays after Trinity, there were rarely fewer than three visible. " The figures began to move across the window long before the commencement of the service, when in fact there was no one present but ourselves. They did so again before the service began, as well as during the ' Venite,' and subsequently as many as twenty or thirty times, I should suppose, till the conclusion of the sermon. " Of the three figures two were evidently those of women, and the third was a little child. The two women were very distinct in appearance. One was tall and very grace- ful, and the other middle-sized ; we called the second one the nursemaid, from her evident care of the child during the absence of the mother, which relationship we attributed to the tall one, from the passionate affection she exhibited towards the child, her caressing it, and the wringing of her hands over it. " I may add that each figure is perfectly distinct from the others, and after they have been seen once or twice are at once recognisable. " The order of their proceedings, with slight variation, was this : The mother came alone from the north side of the window, and having gone about half-way across, stopped, turned round, and waved her arm towards the quarter whence she had come. This signal was answered by the entry of the nurse with the child. Both figures then bent over the child, and seemed to bemoan its fate ; but the taller one was always the most endearing in her gestures. The mother then moved towards the other side of the window, taking the child with her, leaving the nurse in the centre of the window, from which she gradually The Ghost of Trinity Churchy York. 5 retired towards the north corner, whence she had come, waving her hand, as though making signs of farewell, as she retreated. "After some little time she again appeared, bending forward, and evidently anticipating the return of the other two, who never failed to reappear from the south side of the window where they had disappeared. " The same gestures of despair and distress were re- peated, and then all three retired together to the north side of the window. " Usually they appeared during the musical portions of the service, and especially during one long eight-line hymn, when — for the only occasion without the child — the two women rushed on (in stage phrase), and remained during the whole hymn, making the most frantic gestures of despair. Indeed, the louder the music in that hymn, the more carried away with their grief did they seem to be. " Nothing could be more emphatic than the individuality of the several figures ; the manner of each had its own peculiarity. I do not doubt that if the stained glass were removed, a much plainer view would be obtained. I think so, because the nearer the centre of the window, where the stained glass was thickest, there the less dis- tinct were the forms. It was like catching glimpses of them through leaves. But nearer the edge of the window, where the colours were less bright, they were per- fectly distinct ; and still more so on the pane of unstained glass at the edge. There they seemed most clear, and gave one the impression of being real persons, not shadows. " Indeed, by far the most remarkable and perplexing inci- 6 Yorkshi7'e Oddities and Incidents. dent in the whole spectacle was this, that on one occasion, when the mother and child had taken their departure, the medium figure — the nurse — waved her hands, and after walking slowly to the very edge of the window, turned round whilst on the pane of unstained g/ass, and waved her arm towards the other two with what one would call a stage gesture, and then I most distinctly saw, and I emphatically declare I did see, the arm bare nearly to the shoulder, widi beautiful folds of white drapery hanging from it like a picture on a Greek vase. Nothing could be plainer than the drag of the robes on the ground after the figures as they retired at the edge of the window where the clear glass was, previous to going out. The impression produced was that one saw real persons in the churchyard : for though the figures were seen on the window, yet they gave one the impression of walking past the window out- side, and not moving upon the glass. " No one in the church seemed to be in the smallest degree attracted or discomposed by all this, or, indeed, to observe it. " I talked a great deal on the subject with Miss C , daughter of the late Dr. C , of York, and she told me that Mr. W , the Incumbent of Trinity Church, would give anything to get rid of it, or discover the imposture, if imposture there be. She told me that he and his family had watched day and night without being able to find any clue to the mystery. Their house is in the churchyard and opposite the east window, and therefore very favourably placed for such an investigation. I am not inclined to think that the trees outside the church at the east end can originate the appearance by any optical illusions produced by waving branches. I could see their leaves rustling in The Ghost of Trinity Church, York. 7 the air, and their movement was evidently unconnected w^ith the appearance and movement of the figures. "A. B." This curious communication led to my making inquiries, and I speedily heard of several persons who had seen the '* ghosts " at a later date. Friends to whom I applied have sent me the following letters, written independently of one another. They naturally shrink from having their names published, but I can testify to these accounts being perfectly bond fide: — II. South Parade, York, March 22nd, 1871. "Dear Mr. Baring-Gould, "I promised to send you an account of the ghost at Holy Trinity, Micklegate, and I now forward you the enclosed, written by a friend on whose word you may perfectly rely. " I heard another account a few days ago from a lady who saw it on Sunday, the 19th February last. She de- scribed the figure — for she saw only one— as being dressed in a shining white garment, and says that it crossed the east window twice, with a slightly ' skipping ' step. It appeared to be outside the church, as she saw it distinctly through the stained glass. " I have never seen it myself, though I have been several times to the church. " There are four lights in the east window, and the glass of the two central lights is of a darker tint than that in the side ones. There are, however, narrow panes of transparent glass in each of the lights, so that a person passing across 8 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. the window outside could be distinctly seen by anyone sitting in the west gallery. " The sill of the east window is about five feet from the ground outside, and about seven feet from the pavement inside ; about ten yards from the east wall separating the churchyard from a private garden. " Yours very truly, " R. T." This is the enclosure alluded to by my friend " R. T." : — III. " Having heard from several people of the ghost at the Church of the Holy Trinity, Micklegate, York, on Sunday, at the end of September, 1869, a friend and myself made up our minds to go and see if we also could be favoured with a sight of this wonderful apparition. " Well, we went up into the gallery, the only place whence they say it is to be seen. You may, perhaps, already know that the gallery faces the east window, which is filled with modern stained glass. " I am afraid that our attention rambled somewhat from the service, for we were looking out for the ghostly visitant. However, we watched and watched, as we began to think, in vain, until at the very end of the second lesson, when, just before the beginning of the 'Jubilate Deo,' I saw a figure, I should say of a shortish woman, with something white folded over her, covering even her head and face, but still I could see what it was. The figure appeared to walk very fast across the two middle lights of the east window, from right to left [i.e., from south to north), and seemed to be at some distance from the window. The Ghost of Trinity Churchy York. 9 " The strange thing is, that I saw it clearly through the thick painted glass. " The whole thing happened so suddenly, and really surprised me so much, that for some time I could hardly get up from the seat or find my place at the beginning of the chant. Just as it disappeared my friend said, ' Did you see that ? ' To which, of course, I answered, * Yes ; did you ? ' That was all we saw ; and a lady who was there at the same time, whom we knew, saw it also, exactly as we did, only apparently not with the same distinctness. " Many persons have seen a great deal more. I believe that the figure is generally seen to walk across the window in the reverse way to that which my friend and I saw, and returns with a child, some say with two. " We examined outside the window. It is a good deal above the ground, about five feet I should think, and at the side of it is a very old gravestone, with no inscription on the headstone as far as I could make out. I believe it is cur- rently reported that the apparition issues from that grave. " Some people thought that it might be a shadow caused in some peculiar manner by the trees that grew outside ; but it was not, for the trees were cut down about three years ago, and the apparition is still seen, as it has been, I have been told, for a century. " I have nothing to add, except that this is a true and unexaggerated account of what I saw." IV. York, March 2Zth, 1874. "Sir, " Owing to severe illness in my family, I was not able to reply to your note earlier. I will now try and tell lO Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. you what I have seen and been told on the subject of the ghosts at Holy Trinity Church, Micklegate. " A York lady, now dead, told me she remembered seeing it when a child, and that she once read an account of it in an old History of York : she thought the book must have been published in the seventeenth century. " We now live in the parish of Holy Trinity, and attend the church regularly. A part of my family sit in the gallery, therefore I will tell you, in as matter-of-fact a manner as possible, what I myself have seen, and leave one of my daughters, if she likes, to give you her experiences. " I must state also that the ghost is seen more or less distinctly as you happen to be seated in the centre or side of the gallery ; as a rule, the former is the best place. " As I have no faith in ghosts, I have been most wishful to have the matter cleared up. At present I cannot account for the appearance in any way. " I went many times to the gallery in hopes of seeing the phenomenon, but was repeatedly disappointed. At last, one dull day, hopeless for the purpose as I thought — rain was falling at the time — I was startled by seeing some- thing. " There are two east windows — one on the right, filled with common green glass, the organ in front of it. From the outside of this window I saw something move, and immediately a graceful figure of a girl of eighteen or twenty years crossed the outside of the stained east window with a light, free step. She was entirely covered with a fine lace veil which, as she walked and met the air, showed the out- line of the head and figure ; the features I could not dis- tinguish, but could see a shadeth rough the veil where they naturally would be. The Ghost of Trinity Churchy York. 1 1 "The veil was of a pure white, flowing back as a train as she walked. In two or three minutes the figure returned, the robe flowing back in the same way, and disappeared behind the organ window. " The figure appeared to me to be decidedly outside the window, and at a greater distance than was possible for any one to be ; in the first place, because the east window is high up, and therefore anyone walking past it, to be seen at all, must be at some Httle distance from it; and, secondly, because there is a dead wall within a few yards of the window. " The pure white of the robe quite obliterated the colours in the window, but the lead work was distinct enough, and the figure appeared behind it. The distinct outline of the figure is most striking. "The apparition always returns to the organ window. I have seen this several times since the first. Owing to the dull day and the darkness of the windows, the appearance on the first occasion was the more remarkable. Two or three other figures also appear, but I never thought them as distinct as the first, and I thought the second and third might be reflections of the first. The two or three often move quickly back and forwards with a dancing movement somewhat like the reflection of the sun on a wall, but taking the form of human figures. However, it was dull and rain- ing when first I saw the apparition, so that on that occasion there could have been no reflection of sunlight. " These appearances are sometimes not seen for weeks and months ; then they appear once or twice on succeeding days or Sundays. No one can be sure of seeing them if they go to the church for that purpose. I do not believe the apparition takes place at one more favoured time than 1 2 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. another, though some people like to think so. The present rector wished to abolish the ' ghosts,' and was advised to cut down one or two trees. This was done ; all thought that the ghosts were banished. Ten months after there was a gay wedding ; my daughters went into the gallery to witness the ceremony, and lo ! the * ghost or ghosts ' were there also. They had not been seen for nine or ten months. That was the first occasion since the cutting down of the trees on which they reappeared. " The Sunday-school children who sit in the gallery see the forms so often as to be quite familiar with the sight, and call them * the mother, nurse, and child.' " The legend I have heard told of it is that a family, con- sisting of a father, mother, and only child, lived here once upon a time. The father died, and was buried at the east end of the church, under or near the organ window. After a while the plague broke out in York and carried oflf the child, and it was buried outside the city, as those who died of plague were not allowed to be laid in the churchyards for fear of communicating the infection. "The mother died afterwards, and was laid in her husband's grave, and now, as in her lifetime, continues to visit the grave of her child and bemoan the separation. The child is brought from its grave in the plague-pit by the mother and nurse, and brought to the grave of its father, and then it is taken back to where it lies outside the walls." " L. S." Peter Priestly^ the Parish Clerk. PETER PRIESTLY, THE WAKEFIELD PARISH CLERK. [N the middle of last century there lived in Wakefield a certain Peter Priestly, who for many years was sexton of the parish church of All Saints. The then vicar was Michael Bacon, D.D., a tall, portly man, of a commanding presence, who wore a large bushy wig, as was the wont of many old divines of that date. He was a man of rather a warm temperament, and was apt at times, when matters did not flow quite according to his will, to grow a little irritable, and whilst in that condition his habit was frequently to thrust his right hand in a testy, impetuous way under his wig. This habit destroyed the symmetry of that capital ornament, and made it protrude considerably on the right side ; and this protrusion grew greater the longer the wig was worn. The vicar's wigs were inherited and worn by the sexton, whose venerable and awe-inspiring appearance was much enhanced thereby. Mrs. Priestly in vain endeavoured to reduce the protuberance of hair on the right side, so as not to betray the origin of the wig. The horse-hair resumed its elasticity in spite of her efforts, and the congregation in the parish church were amused to see the stately Doctor in his 1 4 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. reading-desk with a deformed wig, and below him the scarcely less stately clerk in a wig the counterpart of that of the Doctor. But what amused the wags not a little was to observe the fact that when the Doctor's wig was perfectly symmetrical, instantly the sexton's assumed the most exag- gerated inequality in the sides. The secret of course was that the Doctor had donned a new wig, and had given his old one to the clerk. But after a while the irascible vicar had succeeded in brushing out the tufts of his false head of hair on the right, and simultaneously the continued efforts of Mrs. Priestly had reduced the right-hand protuberance in the wig of her husband. Consequently, as one bush grew, the other shrank into itself. But there were points- like the equinoxes — when both wigs were alike. Now it fell out that Doctor Bacon had determined to present himself with a new wig one Easter, and he had accordingly given Peter Priestly his old wig, which had arrived at its maximum of extension on the right-hand side. Peter had heard it said that on S. Mark's Eve the spirits of all those who are to die during the year may be seen in the church. Half believing this popular superstition and half in doubt about the truth of it, and thinking, moreover, that if it might be so, he should like to know whether trade would be brisk for him during the rest of the year, he decided that anyhow he would go to the church and see what would happen ; and not wishing to spend his time idly, he deter- mined to occupy himself with lettering some grave-stones which he had not completed. The place in which he carried on this work was the base of the church tower, which was shut off from the nave by a large boarded par- tition, against which stood the west gallery of the church. Peter Priestly, the Parish Clerk. 1 5 The opening from the tower into the nave consisted of large folding-doors. Now, according to the story, on S. Mark's Eve a train of all those who are to die before the ensuing S. Mark's Eve come into the church through one of the doors in their winding-sheets, each carrying a corpse-candle. A ghostly priest precedes the weird procession, and dolefully intones the burial service. When Peter had finished his supper on that eventful evening, he said to his wife : " I think, lass, I'll go and do a bit o' my lettering ; so gi'e me my lantern wi' a can'le in it. I happen shan't be so varry long \ but I think I'll just go for a bit. Howsomever, if I should stop a middling while, ye needn't be flayed (frightened), for I want to finish them two stoanes." It was not without some trepidation that Peter took up his place in the tower, and left the folding-doors ajar that he might look into the nave and see the awful train sweep in. Peter was not a nervous man, or at least he did not think himself so, and he began his work, whistling a psalm tune. He was engaged on a large grave-stone on which he had already completed about half the inscription. It was standing raised upon tressels to the required height ; and at this he worked diligently for a long while, with his face towards the east and the folding-doors, and every now and then he stole to the doors and peeped through into the nave. All was perfectly dark and silent. He returned to his work with lighter heart after each glance into the great dark church. He had taken the candle out of his lantern, and had put it into an old rusty candlestick, which he kept there for the purpose, in order that he might have a better liaht. 1 6 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. The church clock, with many premonitory groanings, had struck the hours of ten and eleven, and Peter still pursued his work. The eventful ghostly hour was ap- proaching when the graves reveal their secrets. As this hour drew nigh Peter's courage began to fail. It flashed across his mind that perhaps the spectral procession would ' enter the church, not through the south porch, as he had at first conjectured, but through the western tower-door ; in which case it would be upon him, envelop him, before he knew where he was. This caused great agitation in Peter's breast, and made him turn his head every now and then to see if anything were stirring. But all remained still; the only sound that broke the silence was the pulse of time, the old clock throbbing above in the tower, and that sound seemed to grow more monotonous and weary. Twelve o'clock drew near, and Peter's heart began to beat quicker. " I arn't flayed," he said to himself, " but I'm varry hot ; t' work ha' made me so, I reckon. There's nowt to be flayed at, for there's nowt to be seen. I'll just wait while it strikes twelve, and then I'll go home." So on he worked, but his hand was not as steady as usual, and he made a blunder in the letter he was cutting ; and this annoyed him. " I duan't know how it is," he said ; " I think I mun be getting ow'd, for my hand rather shakes, and I can't see as weel as I used." He wiped his spectacles and snuffed the candle which stood at his right hand, and drew it closer to him. At that moment the striking apparatus of the clock groaned and prepared for twelve. Peter looked round over his shoulder. The quarter began to strike, and then with a great whirr the first stroke of the ominous hour Peter Priestly, the Parish Clerk. 1 7 sounded — the second — the third. How slow they did strike — surely slower than usual. At each stroke he turned his head and glanced behind him. Twice he started. Surely there was a little sharp sound for a moment, like an unearthly hiss. He raised himself and looked about him. There was nothing. He bent himself again over his work, and the clock had reached the eleventh stroke. The twelfth followed. He turned sharply round, and on the instant such a rush sounded close to his right ear — such a strange, super- natural light glared suddenly through the tower — such a breath of hot air fanned his cheek — that he thought surely the ghostly train was passing. Over went the candle, and was extinguished. Down fell mallet and chisel. The old man stumbled out of the tower, rushed through the church- yard, and ran home, never looking behind him till he reached his door. His house stood at the north-east corner of the church- yard. Opening h's door, he ran through the room, and, pale and breathless, sank into his old arm-chair by the side of the fire. For a moment or two his mouth opened and gasped inarticulate words. Then, extending his trembling hand, he said to his alarmed wife, " Gi'e me my pipe, lass — gi'e me my pipe." " Why, Peter," said his loving spouse, " whativer is t' matter wi' thee ? Thou looks right flayed." " Gi'e me my pipe, lass — gi'e me my pipe," he gasped again. She went to the clock-case and took the pipe down from a ledge at the side of it, where it always rested when not in use, and reached down the tobacco-box from the delf-case agamst the wall ; and bringing them to the old man, said, c Yorkshire Oddities and Incide7Lts. as she gained a closer view of him, " Why, Peter, whativer hast thou been doing ? Thou'st burnt onimost half t' hair off t' right side o' thy wig ! " "What?" said Peter, with a sudden feeling of relief from his fright. " Why, tak' thy wig off, and thou'll soon see," said the wife. Doing as he was bid, he sat studying the precious wig. The great bunch of hair ruffled out by the vicar's hand was consumed to the roots. Peter burst out laughing ; the mystery was solved. But he made no more visits to the church at midnight on S. Mark's Eve. Peter was remarkable for many witty sayings, but most of these have been forgotten. He was lettering a grave-stone in the churchyard one day, when a physician came by, who, looking at the inscription, which was partly cut, said, " Why, Peter, you've spelt it wrong." " Have I, Doctor ? " said he, sharply. " Then how should it be ? " When he was told how to correct his blunder, he looked slyly into the physician's face and said, " Well, well, pass it over, Doctor — pass it over. I've covered up monny a blot o' yours." He one day stood listening to a Methodist local preacher in the market-place. The preacher was attempt- ing an oratorical effect, and exclaimed, " My brethren, if every field in the world was thrown into one field, what a great field that would be ! " " Ah ! " said Peter, loud enough to be heard, " if every jackass i' t' wcrld was one jackass, what a big jackass that 'ud be 1 " Old Boots. 19 OLD BOOTS. LD BOOTS," a well-known character at Ripon in the eighteenth century, was born about the year 1692. What his real name was I do not know. He was for a long time boot-cleaner in an inn at Ripon. He was remarkable for a very long nose curving downwards, and extending an inch and a quarter beyond his lips, and a chin which extended straight before him, and almost met his nose. When visitors at the inn gave him a gratuity he received it on his chin, and held it fast there with his nose till he deposited it in his money- box. People often gave him money for the sake of seeing him carry it about in this singular fashion. He could rub the tip of his nose with his chin, and used to say that if he let his beard grow, it would bury his nose. He created great diversion among the servant-maids by attempting to kiss them, a feat he could never accomplish. He turned his face sideways to get a kiss, and his nose and chin caught the rosy cheeks like a pair of crab's claws. But to kiss was an impossibility, for when he had thus fastened the damsel, his mouth was open and could not be closed. He died in the year 1762, at the age of seventy. 20 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. FOSTER POWELL, THE PEDESTRIAN.* I HIS remarkable pedestrian was born in 1734 at Horseforth, near Leeds. In 1762 he came to London, and articled himself to an attorney in the Temple. After the expiration of his clerk- ship he remained with his uncle, Mr. Powell, of the New Inn, and when he died engaged himself to a Mr. Stokes, and after his decease to a Mr. Bayley, both of the same place. Before his engagement with Stokes he undertook, not for any wager, in 1764, to walk fifty miles on the Bath road in seven hours, and this he accomplished in the time, though encumbered with a greatcoat and leather breeches. He walked the first ten miles in one hour. He visited France and Switzerland, and gained attention by his remarkable walking powers. In the year 1773 he walked from London to York and back again, a distance of 400 miles, in five days and eighteen hours. This was his first walk for a wager. In November, 17 78, Powell attempted to run two miles in ten minutes for a wager. He started from Lee Bridge, and lost it by only half a minute. In 1786 he undertook * From Wilson's and Caulfield's " Wonderful Characters." Foster Powell, the Pedestrian. 2 1 to walk 100 miles on the Bath road in twenty-four hours — fifty miles out and fifty miles in. He completed this journey three-quarters of an hour within the time agreed on. In 1707 he undertook to walk from Canterbury to London Bridge and back again in twenty-four hours, the distance being 112 miles, just twelve miles more than the distance accomplished in his former journey on the Bath Road. This he accomplished, to the great astonishment of thousands of spectators who assembled to witness the completion of the arduous task. The following year, 17S8, he engaged to make the journey from London to York and back again in six days. He executed it in five days and twenty hours. After this he did not undertake any journey till 1792, when he set off again to walk from London to York and back again in six days, but accomplished it in five days and eighteen hours. In 1792 he determined to repeat his journey to York and back again for the last time in his life, and convince the world he could do it in a shorter time than he had pre- viously done it, though now at the advanced age of fifty- eight years. Accordingly he set out from Shoreditch Church to York Minster and back again, and completed his task in five days fifteen hours and a quarter. On his return he was received with loud cheers from the assembled crowd. In the same year he walked, for a bet of twenty guineas, six miles in fifty-five minutes and a half, on the Claphain Road, Shortly after, he went down to Brighton, and engaged to walk one mile and run another in fifteen minutes : he walked the mi t in nine minutes and twenty 22 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. seconds, and ran the other mile in five minutes and twenty-three seconds, by which he was seventeen seconds less than the time allowed him. Previous to this he undertook a journey to Canterbury, but by unfortunately mistaking the road from Blackheath to London, he unavoidably lost the wager. Yet he gained more money by this accident than by the journey had he accomplished it ; for his friends, feeling for his disappoint- ment, made a collection for him, and presented him with the sum of ten pounds. In person Powell was tall and thin, about five feet nine inches high, very firmly knit, with a sallow complexion. He was amiable and courteous. He was somewhat par- ticular about his food, preferring light food, abstaining from liquor, but on one of his walking expeditions supporting himself on brandy. He allowed himself but five hours' rest, generally after eleven o'clock at night. In 1793 he was suddenly taken ill, and died on the 15th of April, in his apartments in New Inn, in rather indigent circumstances. The faculty attributed his death to over- exertion on his last journey to York, for he had determined to complete it in less time than before, and he probably exceeded his powers of endurance. In the afternoon of April 22nd he was buried, at his own desire, in the church- yard of S. Faith's, adjoining S. Paul's Cathedral. The funeral was characteristically a ^oalking one. He was laid under the only tree then surviving in the churchyard. He died at the age of fifty-nine. Prophet Wroe. 23 PROPHET WROE. iQHN WROE was born at Bowling, in the parish of Bradford, Yorkshire, on September 19th, 1782, and was baptised in the old parish church of Bradford. He was put to school, but from want of capacity or of application he made such poor progress that when he left it he read very imperfectly, and he never acquired a facility of reading. He was brought up to follow his father's employment, which was that of worsted manufacturer, combined v/ith farming and the proprietorship of a coal-pit. In course of time his father gave him a share in his business, and articles of partnership were drawn up, but were never signed. John's natural incapacity for application to busi- ness probably obliged his father to place his brother Joseph in his room as partner, and John afterwards often complained of being hardly treated by his father and brothers. It is evident, however, that this treatment he brought on himself, and that his father acted with judg- ment in not entrusting the conduct of business into his hands. His grandfather is said to have declared that "■ the Lord would raise up a minister from among his offspring." To fulfil this prophecy Wroe placed his youngest son Thomas 24 Yorkshire Oddities aiid Incidents. in a schjol to be educated for the ministry in the Church, but was prevented from applying to the Archbishop of York for ordination for hun, as the Vicar of Bradford and a friend dissuaded him from doing so, on account of Thomas labouring from an impediment in his speech. John's irritation against his brother Joseph brought him to the verge of committing a dreadful crime. He procured a pistol and lay in wait for his brother, intending to shoot him, but his conscience reproached him, and he did not put his murderous purpose into execution.* John and his father in course of time came to an open rupture about some wool that had been bought by the latter, and John determined to set up for himself He applied for a farm in Tory Street, and the landlord would have accepted him, but his father intercepted the letter, and took the farm himself for three years. John, highly incensed, moved into the farm-house, and maintained his position there during all that time. His father wished to dispossess him, but not liking to summons his own son, he thought it better to suffer him to remain there. On his way one night to Adwalton he was attacked by two men, who robbed him of eighteen pounds. The men were apprehended but not convicted, and John never recovered the money. He took up wool-combing as a business, and engaged apprentices. One of his apprentices, Benjamin Lockvvood, involved him in losses, according to his own account, and this led him to bankruptcy. I give the next passage from his memoirs as it stands. It is vaguely worded, and I do not profess to understand * Tliis he meniions in his tract, "A Vision of an Ani^cl," Eiadford, Inkcrslcy, 1 820. Prophet Wroe. 25 it. " He was about five years an housekeeper previous to his marriage with the daughter of Benjamin Appleby, of Fasseley Mills, near Leeds." In 181 9 John Wroe was attacked by fever, and was pro- nounced in danger. Dr. Field, who attended him, advised Mrs. Wroe to prevail on him to settle his affairs. The thought of death so moved and alarmed Wroe that he entreated that some Methodist preachers might be brought to visit and pray with him ; but they refused, although his wife sent to four of them. She then asked him if she had better not send for his parish priest, or some of the clergy- men of the Church ; but he declined, saying it was too late, and he begged her to read to him some chapters from the Bible; "and," said he, " I will see what I can do for myself." He gradually recovered his bodily health, but not his ease of mind, and for some months he continued wander- ing about the fields with his Bible in his hand, sitting down under the hedges, and spelling out easy passages for him- self; but still found no comfort. Soon after this he fell into epileptic fits, and saw visions. In these trances he became completely rigid, his eyes remained closed — the eyelids as fast together as if they had grown to one another, and his tongue stiff in his mouth. In this condition he remained sometimes seven, twelve, twenty-four, or even thirty-six hours. After one of his fits, his eyes remained closed for six days, but he recovered the use of his tongue. The first of his trances came on in the morning of November 12th, 181 9, at two o'clock, before dawn, as he was rambling in the fields. He says : " A woman came to me, and tossed me up and down in the field. I endeavoured to lay hold of her, but could not ; 26 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. I therefore knew it was a spirit." Could this not have been his wife, impatient at him leaving his bed and rambling about so early ? After this he was taken and put to bed. Who by ? Was it by this woman who tossed him about ? In bed he remained twelve hours. On the 19th November, six days after his shaking, he had a fit, and lost his sight and power of speech. On his returning to consciousness, he wrote on a black board, in rude letters and abject spelling, the revelations he had been allowed to behold. It consisted in oxen running down a lane, tossing their horns, which frightened him to tears. " I thought that I walked about a mile among these beasts, until I returned to my former place, and there an angel met me, and he took me to a large place, where I saw a great number of books, placed on their edges, having gilt letters. There also appeared large altars, full of letters, but I could not read them. I begged that I might be enabled to read and understand what I had seen ; and there appeared another, the letters of which were black print or old English, with the word Jeremiah on the top of it, and the letter L. I wrote on the wall with my fingers at the time, as I lay in bed; the people who were present observing me, concluded that I wished to write (I was dumb, for my tongue was fastened in my mouth as before) ; they gave me a piece of board and chalk, and I wrote Jeremiah, 50th chapter. I had never read this chapter, or heard it read, or seen it before, to my recollection ; but when I came to myself I could, without looking at it, re- peat nearly every word in it." On the 29th of November following he had another epileptic fit accompanied with visions; and on the 14th of Prophet Wroe. 27 December " I was again struck blind at about ten o'clock in the forenoon, and remained more like a corpse than a living man for twenty-four hours, when I came to myself by degrees, but continued blind for five days. After many things, the angel said to me, ' Thou shalt be blind for six days, and on the seventh day thy father shall come to thee, and many people with him ; he shall lay his right thumb on thy right eye, and his fourth finger on thy left, as a token that he remembers his former sins and wickedness ; and if not, it will be a witness against him at the Day of Judg- ment, and thou shalt receive thy sight.' During the six days that I was blind my wife at one time was reading a hymn for me ; when she had read it I desired her to read it again 3 but before she had done so I fainted, and saw the elements separated, and there appeared before me a large open square ; I saw our Saviour nailed on the cross and the tears trickling down his face, and at that time I thought he was weeping for the wicked people upon the earth. An angel then appeared holding a man by a single hair of his head, who had a very large sword in his hand, which he waved backward and forward. I then saw a pair of large scales let down to the earth, and a great bundle, which was placed in one side of it, which I thought was the sins of the people, and then saw a great number of weights placed in the other ; but the bundle was so much heavier that the weights bounced out, and the scales were drawn up into heaven. Then the man that was held by the hair of his head by the angel brandished his sword six or seven times, as formerly, and disappeared. I afterwards saw IMoses and Aaron, accompanied by a great number of people, attended by angels, and I heard such delightful music as it would be impossible to describe. There was 28 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. darkness over the place soon after, and I lost sight of all in a moment." He continued with his eyes shut for exactly six days, and on the seventh his father came and placed his thumb on his right eye, and his fourth finger on his left, whereupon John Wroe opened his eyes and then fainted away. As soon as he received his sight the people surrounding him asked if he really saw clearly. He found that with one eye he saw as distinctly as before, but with the other only imperfectly, and this he attributed to some one having three days before endeavoured to force the eyelids open. Wroe tells us in his Autobiography that his father, placing his thumb and finger on his eyes in the manner indicated beforehand by the angel, filled every one with astonish- ment ; but from Joseph Wroe, his cousin, we learn that the father did this according to the express orders of John. Samuel Muff, a spectator, says : " During the twenty -four hours that John Wroe was in his trance reports of the circumstance frequently reached my house, adding that he was likely to die. I accordingly went to see him, and he came to himself when I was in the house, but was entirely blind. On hearing my voice, he communicated many things to me which I cannot at present recollect ; but I remember his having said that he was blind, but that he would yet see. He wrote me a few lines in the course of his six days' blindness, desiring that I would come and see him at the time his eyes were opened, and which he asserted would be at the end of the six days ; the letter was sent to me by one of my neighbours, who declared he saw him write it ; and stone blind as he then was, it is the best piece of his writing I ever saw. I complied with his desire, and Prophet Wroe. 59 actually saw his eyes open in the manner already related. After his father had placed his thumb and finger on his eyes, he appeared to me for some time as if he were dead. He afterwards came to himself, sat up in the chair, and his eyes instantly opened. He and I were brought up within a quarter of a mile of each other, and were schoolfellows, but the master who instructed us never could teach him to spell or read, nor even to speak plainly." Joseph Wroe, John's cousin, says : " The first time I met with John Wroe after the commencement of his visions, which was in the street in Bradford, I said, ' I have been informed that thou hast begun to preach.' He replied, ' Well, I do not know much about preaching, but I have begun talking, and people may call it what they please.* I said, in a contemptuous manner, ' I have also been informed that thou hast been visited with visions or trances ; what hast thou seen ? ' He replied, * I have seen a great deal too much to relate here.' He appeared reserved, and would say no more. Some time after this a person came to my house, and inquired of me whether I had seen my cousin John, adding, * People say he is blind, and has been so for three or four days.' I went to see him on the following Sunday, with many others. At his desire I led him to the door, and accompanied him to the house of a neighbour, named Abraham Holmes : it was this ui?Ji who wrote his visions, and part of which was done on tha'; occasion. We delayed there until it was dark, and I led him back to his house. When I was about to return home he laid hold of my hand, and would not suffer me to pro- ceed until I had promised him to return next day, as he asserted that he would then receive his sight. I ac- cordingly attended the same day ; several persons did the 30 Yorkshh^e Oddities and Incidents. same, and one of them said to John, ' Art thou not afraid that thou wilt never see any more ? ' He replied, ' No, I have not a doubt about it. I am as firm as a rock in the belief that my sight will be restored at the appointed time.' A few minutes before the time he requested that some person would lead him to a private place, where he might have an opportunity for prayer. I accordingly led him into the parlour, and withdrew; he soon after returned, and ordered a chair to be placed in the middle of the room, so that every person present might observe what was to be done. He then called his father, directing him to lay his thumb and finger on his eyes, and he did so. John said, 'You have done enough; take away your hand.' He then stretched out his legs and feet, his head and arms fell back, and he fainted, and his countenance appeared like that of a person who was dead. He remained so for about a minute, when his eyelids began to move, and suddenly opened ; he came to himself and said, ' I can see.' I inquired of him, ' How wast thou before thy sight was restored ?' He replied, * I got a glance of that glorious place, and at that instant my sight returned.'" The following night he prayed that he might be guided in the choice of a sect to which to belong. At about two in the morning he woke, and saw on the tester of his bed- stead a black board, on which appeared in gilt letters, " A. A. Rabbi, Rabbi, Rabbi." He awoke his wife, and told her what he had seen. He thought at first that Rabbi was the name of a town, and that he was perhaps to go to that place and declare there what he had seen ; but after- wards concluded it was a sign that he was to go and testify to the Jews. Afterwards he conceived himself to be com- manded to testify in England for three years, " with his hat Prophet Wroe. on his head," and at the expiration of that time to join the Jews. Accordingly, in the same year, 1820, Wroe went to Liver- pool by Huddersfield, to visit the Jews there. At Hud- derstield he Avas well received by three Methodist preachers, who helped him on his way with money. On reaching IVIanchester he lodged in a house, and was asked by the person who let him his lodging whether he knew John Wroe, as he understood that he came from Bradford. Wroe having answered in the affirmative, the man continued — "What sort of a fellow is he?" John replied, "Some give him a very indifferent character ; but time proves all things." He was then asked if he were John Wroe, and when he said he was, he was told that he should be heartily welcome to his lodging and victuals gratuitously as long as he stayed there. The accomplishment of some predictions made by Wroe tended greatly to increase his fame and impress the ignorant and superstitious with belief in his supernatural mission. But it is as easy to account for the accomplishment of these prophecies as it is to vindicate the natural origin of his fits and visions. He predicted the speedy death of his wife's brother, and he sent his wife to her brother, Joseph Appleby, to inform him that before long he would be dead. Appleby was at the time ill in bed : there is litde doubt that the fright caused by receiving this message killed him. In the spring of 1S21 the cousin of John Wroe, who employed him as a wool-comber, refused to engage him or have any more of his badly-executed work, telling him he was more fit to be a preacher than a wool-comber. There- upon John fell back in a fit against a bale of wool, and when he recovered called all to witness what he said— 2)2 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. " Take notice of that young man," said he, pointing to the son of his employer, who had been foiemost in his com- plaints and abuse ; " he will never more do any work ; he will never again pay any man wages." The young man was immediately taken ill and died. In this case the lad was no doubt killed by fright. On the 14th of August, 1822, came the final summons to Wroe to go to the Jews. As he was sitting in conversation with some dupes or believers he asserted that he heard thrice a voice which cried, " Go to my people Israel, and speak the words that I command thee." It continued speaking for about a quarter of an hour, and was succeeded by beautiful music. " He inquired of the aforenamed persons," we are told in his Autobiography, " whether they heard anything ? and when they answered in the affirmative, and appeared alarmed, one of them said, ' The voice came from beneath the secoad bar of the fire-grate.' Wroe said, ' This voice is not come for my sake, but for yours.' " One regrets to hear this, for hitherto Wroe seems to have been acting in sincere good faith, believing in his visions ; but on this occasion there is apparent deception. His neglect had lost him his livelihood, and he was obliged to prey on those deluded people who regarded him as a prophet, and to keep up the delusion had recourse to artifice. He was now convinced of the truth of the great revela- tion of Joanna Southcott. Already, in August, 1820, he had had an interview with George Turner, the prophet of that sect, on his visiting Bradford, on which Wroe had in- formed Turner that he (Wroe) was sent exclusively to the public, and that Turner was sent exclusively to the elect of the Society ; and on this understanding Turner had con- sented to shake hands with him. Prophet Wroe. 33 But in 1822 the Society of Joanna Southcott was in a state of expectancy, awaiting the advent of the promised Shiloh on the T4th of October in that year, and it seems to have entered into Wroe's head to take advantage of this, and announce himself to the Society as a prophet in place of Turner, who he had the shrewdness to see would be discredited by the failure of the appearance of the Shiloh. He was accordingly visited with trances, in which he saw Joanna " transfigured before him in the open firma- ment, in the day-time, with the Child in her left arm." Accordingly, Wroe attended a meeting of the Society at Bradford on August 25th, 1822, and he announced: " You are expecting Shiloh to appear and be amongst you on a certain day ; but I tell you He will not ; and many of the believers will fall off, not merely one or two in a society, but whole societies will fall away. Yet 1 do not doubt that the visitation to George Turner is of God ; and as a testimony of which, I will give in my name among you." On the following Sunday evening he had one of his epileptic fits in the meeting, and lay as if dead. On recovering he announced that he had seen an angel, who had commissioned him to act as prophet. But only two persons at the meeting believed in him, and the whole of the Society at Bradford never thoroughly accepted him. He then went to Almondbury, where v/as a meeting of the Southcottites, where also he met with indiff"erent success. On Sunday evening he reappeared in Bradford, and adopted the following extraordinary expedient to impress the congregation : — Unknown to the members, he caused two men to stand, one on each side of the archway leading D 34 YorIcsJii7X Oddities and Incidents, into the second room of the meeting-house — the house being divided into three parallel apartments, which opened into each other by an archway in each partition, thus form- ing a sort of narthex, nave, and chancel. Each man held a sword, and the swords were united at the points, so that the Friends, to enter, had to pass under the swords. Wroe entered last of all. Then the men pointed their swords at his breast, saying, " The sword of the Lord is against thee." Wroe instantly fell on his knees, and prayed aloud that if his mission were not Divine, the swords might fall and smite him asunder. Wroe then stood up and walked to the second archway, the men with the swords stepping backwards before him, still with their swords at his breast. Thus he stood and preached on his mission to the congregation, who were amazingly impressed at this solemn farce. When all was over, he bade those of the Bradford Society who believed in him to pass under the swords ; and the great majority of the congregation did so. This naturally created a schism in the body. Letters were written by the Committee of the Society at Bradford, by Wroe's direction, to the Societies at A^hton- under-Line, Stockport, Sheffield, and Colne, to inform them of what had taken place, and requesting them to delegate two men from each congregation to come to Brad- ford and examine the truth concerning the mission of Wroe. The Societies at Stockport and Sheffield declined the invitation, but in the following year nearly tlie whole of the body at Sheffield accepted the prophetic mission of Wroe, and some at Stockport believed. It was time now for 'Wroe to begin his mission to the Jews. He had a l,:r^e follcwing, and was provided liberally Prophet Wroe. 35 with money by his dupes, which he was not, however, suffered to touch himself. After having visited Jews at Liverpool and London with- out success, on April 27 th he embarked in the brig Doris at Liverpool for Gibraltar, in company of Robert Harling, of Thornhill, and reached there on the 20th of May. But there Harling's heart failed, whether at the sight of the " abominable idolatries " of the people, or because his faith was shaken in Wroe, does not transpire. On the day following their landing Harling returned to England in a vessel that was ready to sail ; but John, having visited and converted the local Methodist preacher, remained with him two months. This preacher, Cooke, was greatly exercised in spirit on the arrival of the Prophet; but having prayed earnestly to the Lord, as he tells us, " The Lord opened my eyes to see," and he became an enthusiastic believer. On Saturday, the 31st, Wroe appeared in the synagogue of the Jews and delivered his testimony. The Governor of Gibraltar declined to permit him to preach in public ; consequently Wroe departed, having been oftered a free passage to England. Before he did so he had been turned out of the synagogue, and had invaded the Roman Catholic churches, where he deposited his prophecies on the altar in Spanish. This is one of them : — " I, Jesus from heaven, command thee, John Wroe, to warn the kingdom of Spain that if they return not from their wicked ways of worshipping images made with men's hands, and bowing before them, I will draw my two-edged sword against them, and it shall turn every way till I have destroyed them. But who is this that has caused them to err? They have hearkened unto their priests instead of 36 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. hearkening unto me. Now, I will tell you what I will do unto your priests ; I will chase them as hounds chase a fox, until I utterly destroy them, and the remnant that is left shall slay your king, and they shall know that I have sent this unto them by my servant." He began to address the Irish Roman Catholic soldiers on the Rock, but the adjutant turned him out. In the two months he was at Gibraltar he had succeeded in making many enemies. A woman threw a pitcher out of a window at his head, but fortunately missed him, and he was several times threatened with a pistol. One day that he was creating disorder in the cathedral the priests took him by the shoulders, thrust him out, and locked the doors behind him. Wroe reached Liverpool on August 23rd, and then visited Ashton and Birmingham. On October 12th he again sailed for the Continent, and reaching Paris on the 1 6th, he began to preach his mission to the Jews in the Palais Royal. From Paris he and his companion, William Lees, went to Strasburg, where they " attended the meeting of the Jews in their synagogue. These Jews, not understanding English, conducted them to the house of the Rabbi, who was not at home. His daughter could speak some English, but not sufficient to admit of her understanding the whole of what John and William wished to communi- cate. The Jews therefore requested to have the purport of the message given to them in writing, which was accord- ingly done. They behaved very well. On the following day, Sunday, John was so ill that he was confined to the house, and sent William to the Hebrews to receive their Prophet Wroe. 37 answer to his letter. William found a man who could speak English. He said ' he had read the letter to the Rabbi, who was very angry, and said he had power to imprison them for two years, but had pity on them, think- ing they were deranged.' " After visiting Vienna, they proceeded to Trieste. One would like to kuuw what they thought of that glorious road over the Sommering Pass, and down the valleys of the Murz and the Save, by Laibach and the weird ashen- grey dolomite peaks of the Terglou and Dobratz; but no allusion to the scenery escapes these dull travellers, except that they " durst not proceed by night, through the apprehension of robbers, the road being over the moun- tains." At Trieste they visited the Jews and a Roman Catholic priest, who treated them with good-natured contempt ; and they went on to Venice, where they again testified to the Jews. At Verona they left a letter addressed to the Roman Catholic priests, on the altars. At Vicenza their letter to the priests was returned to them unanswered. At table d'hote at the inn, where about forty gentlemen of different nations were present, " the spirit of the Lord rested on John, when he stood up and addressed them, and gave them two letters. They appeared much astojiished" From Milan they made their way to Paris, distributing tracts and prophecies among the Jews and Catholics, and strewing them on the altars of the churches. Having deposited one of these prophecies, not couched in the most sanguine and complimentary terms, addressed to the French priest, upon the high altar at Amiens, they nearly got into trouble. They were arrested at Calais, and their o S Yorkshire Oddities a7id Incidents. baggage overhauled by the police, who had received orders from the Minister of the Interior to search them for papers against the Government. But the police-officer, having looked through their budget of tracts, observed, contempt- uously, that " they were all on religious subjects," and let them depart. John then took all that remained of his tracts and de- nunciations of woe against the idolators, in Italian and French, and tore them into small pieces, which he scat- tered about the streets of Calais, saying "he was com- manded to do so as a testimony against them." On the 17th December they embarked on the French mail, a sailing packet, and had a very rough passage.' It blew so hard that they could not reach Dover, but stood off Deal beach, and a boat conveyed the mail and the passengers ashore. They had to pay fifteen shillings each to the watermen, exclusive of their fare in the packet. They were well drenched with salt water, but John cheered on William by assuring him that before they reached home he would see the young woman who was to become his wife. On reaching London, Wroe visited some of the Believers, and prepared the way for a future visit, when he would meet George Turner face to face. He assembled the Friends at Gravesend and Chatham, and prophesied before them, and William Lees at the former place saw the en- chanting Cordelia Chenne, whom he afterwards married, thus fulfilling the prediction of Wroe in the billy-boat. The following year was an eventful one. In January he received a communication "from the Spirit" that he was to spend forty days in a dark hole, and eat nothing but butter and honey, and drink milk. Prophet IVroe. 3q On the 29th he was publicly baptised in the river Aire, above Apperley Bridge, by John Brunton, of Bradford, in the presence of some thirty thousand spectators. " Both sides of the river were lined with persons of various ages and denominations. The Spirit had given John a sign — that on his entering the water the sun should shine ; for during the two preceding days the weather was extremely cold, with severe frost accompanied with snow. The Sunday forenoon on which the ceremony was to take place continued very wet till noon, and when Wroe arrived at the brink of the river the sun was still veiled. He walked down the river, intending to delay till the clouds broke ; but the people, thinking that he was afraid of the cold water, roared at him, ' He dussn't go in ! He's runnin' away ! ' They were all disposed to view the fun, and they endeavoured to stop Wroe's further progress. Some friends followed him, urging him not to disappoint the crowd, and he found that he had better put a bold face on it, and go in. The sun just then shone forth with a degree of warmth most unusual at that season of the year. The musicians and singers began to play and sing, and he descended into the water. But when preparing to do so, a cry was raised by the multitude, ' Drown him ! ' The same words were uttered by some young men who had placed themselves on the branches of a tree adjacent to the river. John commanded them, in the name of the Lord, to come down. One of them, named Hudson, who was formerly John's apprentice, cursed him. Immediately that part of the bank on which the tree grew gave way, and all were precipitated into the river. None of them were drowned, but some had five or six miles to travel home in their wet clothes ; and Hudson, who had cursed John, died 40 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. within a few da3'S after. When John came out of the water the musicians and singers again performed." The mob then set on Wroe with sticks, pelted ] Jm with mud, and he and his band of BeUevers were obliged to beat a precipitate retreat. On April 17th, in the same year, he was publicly cirmm- cised. This function was introduced and announced by the band of singers of Ashton-under-Line marching in procession through the village, playing and singing the whole way. In the evening the highly unedifying perform- ance was performed in the meeting-house of the Friends, " in the presence of the congregation." On August 30th he was again baptised in the river Med- lock, near Park Bridge, and on coming out of the river he stood with one foot in the water, the other on the land, raised his hands to heaven, and swore that there should be no more time — in imitation of the angel described in Revelation (x., 5, 6). He seems now to have enjoined circumcision on all male adherents, and reports circulated that several children had died in consequence. " But," says the Autobiography, "these reports, with one exception, were entirely false." The child who died was the son of Robert Grimshaw, of Hurst Brook, near Ashton. The poor child died six days after the operation. An inquest was held by the coroner, and a verdict of manslaughter was returned against Henry Lees, the operator. He was, however, acquitted at the Assizes, as the medical evidence was not conclusive that the wound occasioned by circumcision had caused the child's deatli. On the nth September Wroe received a call to wander in the fields for fourteen days, and live on nuts, wheat. Prophet Wroe. 41 blackberries, hips, herbs, and water. But these, as may well be believed, did not satisfy his hunger. At the end of this time, which he spent in wandering to Hudders- field and Oakenshaw, he told his wife " he had a command from God that she should destroy all pictures, portraits, or likenesses of anything he had created or caused to grow, whether of iron, stone, wood, cloth, or paper, and every- thing of a black colour that could be found within the house." Which command she, like a dutiful but foolish wife, obeyed. He then proceeded to Bradford, and on Sunday the 26th addressed a large congregation which crowded into the chapel to hear him. It ended in a riot. *' John left the room, accompanied by Elizabeth Elsworth and Mary Brear, with whom he walked about two hundred yards, when one of the females received a blow and was pushed aside. John also was forced along for some distance. However, they reached the New Inn, where there were two horses in readiness for John and his friend. Many of the people were about to enter, but were prevented by the landlord. Some persons already in the house said the two females were ' John's women,* and that he was picking poor people's pockets. The horses being got ready, the people in the house rushed out, crying to their persecuting companions, * Now, lads, he's going ! " on which they closed the yard gate. John, however, escaped by another passage. Having succeeded in getting on the road leading to Great Horton, a cry was raised, ' Kill him ! kill him I ' He was then pursued by the mob, amounting to thousands, some crying out, ' That's the devil who says he's been living on hips and haws, wheat and nuts, for fourteen days 1 ' He was surrounded , and 42 YorlcsJiirc Oddities and Incidents. prevented from proceeding. By being preceded by Joseph Brear, he soon after succeeded in clearing his way, and pro- ceeding a httle further. But he was stopped, the mob pulhng his horse and tearing his clothes. Joseph again succeeded in clearing the way a little, but was presently knocked off his horse by a stone ; when remounted, they proceeded a short distance. John then turned and said something to the people. John and his horse were then pulled down and struck ; the bridle and girths were broken in pieces. He at length succeeded in getting on the causeway, and resumed his journey on foot; stones and other missiles were showered against him in all directions. Some of his companions entertained fears that he never would reach Horton with life." The bursting of a storm of rain fortunately dispersed the mob, and the Prophet escaped. " On arriving at Moses Elsworth's nearly his whole body was black ; he had also one of his eyes much discoloured, and received a cut on his face from a stone." On the following day he obtained warrants against nineteen of the mob, who appeared before the magistrate, were bound over to keep the peace for twelve months, and had to pay all expenses. Prophet Wroe now deemed it expedient to visit London. Accordingly he had a revelation in August, 1825: "Go thou to Tozer, and stand before him, and prophesy, with thy rod in thy hand, and say, * Thus saith the Lord, the Lord thy God has showed thee many things ; and for this end wast thou born. The seal thou hast received thou shalt be able to retain ; but thy body shall go to the dust, and thou shalt put on incorruption at the first resurrection. . . . Thou shalt be a witness for Joanna, and thou shalt come with her, Prophet IVroe. 43 and at that day thou shalt be great unto the ends of the earth." On the 28th August, John Wroe, with his faithful ally, William Lees, visited the chapel of Mr. Lindsay, a prophet of the congregation of Joanna Southcott in London. Lindsay received them cordially, and announced to his congregation that "Brother Wroe" was to have full liberty to use the chapel morning and afternoon. Now Tozer was the right-hand man of Lindsay — his faithful witness, Avho wrote down the oracles that dropped from his lips. He was, in fact, to Lindsay what William Lees was to John Wroe. It was to this Tozer that Wroe bore the message given above, which was a speech wrapped up in the most flattering and complimentary language, but a snub for all that. Mr. Tozer was wont to designate him- self, " The man clothed in linen, with the writer's inkhorn," and believed himself, or endeavoured to induce others to believe, that he was the person spoken of by the Prophet Ezekiel (ix., 2) ; and when Mr. Lees appeared on the scene with a white surplice on and an ink-bottle at his left side it was a distinct throwing down of the gauntlet, and was likely to lead to unpleasant results. Foreseeing which, Wroe wrestled in prayer before the congregation that "Satan might be rebuked within them walls that day." Then Wroe stood up and said with a loud voice, " Thus saith the Lord, There are in this place those whose places shall be taken by others who have mocked and despised them. None shall enter but such as are circumcised or married." Lindsay turned red, trembled, and knocked over his inkstand. Tozer got up and said, " Friends, what must be my feelings at this time ? This day of the month, this day of the week, eleven years ago, I addressed 1500 44 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. people in this city, and since that time the visitation has been trodden under foot. Eleven days were spoken of by the Woman — take them to mean years — (see the book, and find it). God grant that this may be the beginning of the Gathering." The people answered " Amen." It is evident he was overawed by Wroe and Lee in his white surplice and ink-pot. In the afternoon Wroe was again at the chapel, and again hinted that there was now a new outpouring upon himself, and that the old prophets were to yield to him. " Thus saith the Lord, Many in this place that are first shall be last." Tozer and Lindsay looked uneasy. " If you will sign for Satan's destruction, let a man be deputed to Ashton on the 17th of next month. Many dreams have been interpreted there ; let the same be sent to those who profess to be visited, and see who will get an answer in truth." Lindsay walked backward and forward, in and out of the room, whilst John Wroe spoke, but said nothing. At the conclusion of Wroe's speech, Lindsay, who was greatly agitated, said, " I have received an order from above to go and see the Living Skeleton now exhibiting in Pall Mall, at three o'clock to-morrow, and John, with others, must go with me. And let so-and-so take his clarionette and pkiy a tune before the skeleton, but for what purpose I know not." John Wroe answered — " If the Lord hath commanded me to go, I will go; if not, I cannot go." This Living Skeleton was Claude Ambroise Seurat, bom in 1797, who was exhibited in London in 1825. His flesh had wasted completely away, and when he had attained his full height he presented the extraordinary spectacle of Prophet Wroe. 45 a skeleton covered with skin, alive and able to move and converse. A portion of Mr. Hones' description of him must be quoted here : — '* He seemed another ' Lazarus come forth,' without his grave-clothes, and for a moment I was too consternated to observe more than his general ap- pearance. My eye then first caught the arm as the most remarkable limb ; from the shoulder to the elbow it is like an ivory German flute, somewhat deepened in colour by age ; it is not larger, and the skin is of that hue, and not having a trace of muscle, it is as perfect a cylinder as a writing-rule. Amazed by the wasted limbs, I was still more amazed by the extraordinary depression of the chest. Its indentation is similar to that which an over-careful mother makes in the pillowed surface of an infant's bed for its repose. Nature has here inverted her own order, and turned the convex inwards, while the nobler organs, obedi- ent to her will, maintain life by the gentle exercise of their wonted functions in a lower region. If the integument of the bowels can be called flesh, it is the only flesh on the body ; for it seems to have wholly shrunk from the limbs, and where the muscles that have not wholly disappeared remain, they are also shrunk." That this emaciated object, whose appearance in London created a sensation, should have been supposed by super- stitious people, eagerly looking out for portents and realisations of wild prophecies, to be sent into the world with some peculiar significance, is not to be wondered at. Lindsay seems to have resolved to put Wroe's apostleship to the proof by a visit to this extraordinary phenomenon, then exhibiting in the Chinese Pavilion, in Pall Mall. The Living Skeleton was to have decided between them, 46 YorksJiire Oddities and Incidents. and confounded him who was the false prophet and impostor. But Wroe would not go through this ordeal : he slunk away, conscious, perhaps, that he was an impostor, and with superstitious fear of the Walking Skeleton. He escaped to Greenwich, where he pretended to be ill. Lindsay, finding Wroe was not at the exhibition, pur- sued him to Greenwich, and an angry meeting ensued. Next Sunday, "Wroe again invaded the chapel of Lindsay, who began to prophesy against him, saying, " I say, in the name of the Lord, you shall shave !" Then John Wroe took the prophetic rod, and thrusting it towards Lindsay, thundered forth, " Dost thou come to defy Israel ? The Lord rebuke thee, Satan ! " Lindsay was silent, but presently tried to create a diver- sion by setting Wroe and his follower Lees at variance, for he pointed to the latter and said, " Thus saith the Lord, This man shall shave, and shall prophesy against his master." "When will he shave off his beard?" asked Wroe indignantly. " When thine is plucked up by the roots," answered Lindsay. The scene was becoming un- dignified. The prophets seemed to be aware of it, and that it was necessary to patch the matter up ; so Lindsay said, " You see the spirits seem to differ a little ; it is we who do not understand how they work and move." By degrees Wroe succeeded in obtaining recognition as the Prophet from the majority of Joanna Southcott's con- gregations. The faithful men wore long beards, " the city mark," as it was called, and white linen vestments at the religious meetings in their tabernacles. George Turner had succeeded Joanna Southcott ; he was succeeded by William Shaw, and then Wroe received Prophet Wroe. 47 general acknowledgment. He announced that his mission would last forty years, and that at the expiration of this period Shiloh would come. As soon as he was acknowledged as Prophet, he had a power in his hands which he did not fail to exercise. In 1S30 he announced that he had received orders from heaven that seven virgins should be delivered to him to comfort and cherish him, and three of his believers at once gave him up their daughters. With these poor girls and some married women Wroe wandered from place to place. They were with him in Kent, in Devonshire, in Lancashire, and Yorkshire — wherever Wroe pretended that he was called. The matter became scandalous, and the confidence of several of the members of the community was shaken. The girls were questioned, and made shock- ing disclosures. Two of the Society, named Masterman and Walker, rose in the congregation at Ashton, on Feb- ruary 27th, 1 83 1, and charged him with profligacy. Wroe could not stand against the storm ; he escaped through a trap-door in the orchestra, amidst cat-calls, jeers, and howls. He remained secreted in Ashton a few days, and then left the place for ever. The confidence of his faithful disciple Lees was some- what dashed shortly before this by an exposure of the Prophet at Manchester. Lees had a friend at Manchester with whom he did business. Wroe used to spend much of his time in Lees' house. The Prophet announced to Lees that he was called by the Spirit on a mission, but that he had no money. Lees called a covenant meeting, and the sum of eighty pounds was raised, and placed at the disposal of the Prophet, who departed with it in his. Now it happened that Lees' friend did business at a certain 48 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. public-house in Manchester, and having noticed Wroe there and being shortly after at Ashton, he asked Lees where the Prophet was. Lees told him that he had gone on a mission. His friend laughed, and said, " Come with me and you shall see him." With difficulty he persuaded Lees to get into a cab with him and drive to Manchester to the public-house. The two men went in, opened the door into a back parlour, and found the Prophet sitting by the fire, in his low-crowned brown hat and long coat, between two low women, drinking hot whiskey and water with them. The landlord informed them that Wroe had been there several days. Lees went home, burned his white robe, destroyed all his books and tracts belonging to the Society, shaved off his beard, and next Sunday was in the parish church, which he had been in the habit of attending before he fell under the influence of Wroe. But his humiliation did not end here. His daughter gave promise of becoming a mother by Wroe. In vain did the Prophet assure him that the child that would be born was the promised Shiloh. It turned out to be a girl. Lees put Wroe out of his doors. It was soon after this that the Prophet was met by Masterman and Walker, and the scandal of the virgins was exposed. Lees, hearing that Wroe was coming to Ashton, exas- perated at the dishonour of his daughter and the dupe that had been made of himself, stationed himself behind a chimney and fired a gun at Wroe. The ball whizzed past his hat, and fortunately did him no injury. But the rumour of these scandals, and the death of a child named Wood whom he had circumcised, caused a riot at Bradford when Prophet Wroe. 49 he visited it shortly after. The mob broke into the taber- nacle, tore up the benches, smashed the windows, and would have maltreated Wroe if they could have caught him : but the wary Prophet made his escape in time. One day in July he had a vocation to go on a mission. He was then living at Pudsey. His followers raised him a handsome sum to defray his expenses, and he departed. After he had gone, it was observed that his wife passed a certain public- house in the neighbourhood every day. This was unusual, and it was agreed to watch her. After John Wroe had been gone fourteen days, she was followed at a distance. She went down a valley to a corn-field and made a signal, whereupon Wroe was observed to creep out of the standing corn. His wife opened her reticule and produced a dish of new potatoes and a mutton-chop, and a four-ounce bottle of wme. The Prophet drew a horse- rug out from the corn, and prepared to seat himself on it and enjoy his dinner, when the spies rushed upon him, carried him in triumph into Pudsey, set him on a donkey, rode him through the town, then tied a rope round his body, threw him into a horse -pond, pulled him out, and threw him in again and again ; till the women, seeing him nearly exhausted, interfered and begged him to be spared. When he was living at Bowling he had a trance which lasted ten or twelve days. He lay apparently insensible on a stump bedstead, and people came from far and wide to see him. At the foot of the bed was a basket in which the visitors deposited silver and copper ; and all who came Avere expected to give a trifle. There was a fixed hour at which the cottage door was opened and closed, and when it was closed the key was turned in the lock, and no one was admitted on any excuse. 50 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. It unfortunately happened that one night Mrs. Wroe went out for some purpose or other, and left the door un- fastened behind her, intending to return in a minute. A man named Holt and his son lived close by. As they saw Mrs. Wroe go out, they and a neighbour who was with them thought the opportunity was not to be neglected, and opened the door of Wroe's house and peeped cautiously in. To their surprise John was sitting very comfortably in the ingle-nook, eating beef-steak, pickled cabbage, and oat- cake.* Next day he was laid on his bed as usual in a trance, and so he continued for three or more days. One of the visitors wished to thrust a needle under Wroe's nail, to prove if he were perfectly sensible, but his wife would not permit it. Another of his devices for raising money was not more honest. He announced that the Lord had declared to him that every member of the Society of the house of Israel was to wear a gold ring of the value of jQ\ 3s. 6d., which was to be procured from the Prophet, and it was to be a sign and a seal to them that they were the elect. This was in 1856, and all the members were supplied with gold rings by 1857. At this time the number of the members was thought to be about 6000, of whom 700 were in Ireland. Unfortunately for the credit of the Prophet, towards the end of 1856 one of the members, who had not wholly lost his common-sense, thought it advisable to have his gold ring tested with nitric acid, and the startling discovery was made that the rings were not of gold at all, nor worth a florin each. Wroe threw the blame on the goldsmith who had • My informant, who knew Wroe well, says: "J. Holt, the young man who saw this, told it me. He is now living at liiadfoid." Prophet Wroe. 51 provided him with them, and ordered that no more should be issued. About 1854 John Wroe said he had a command from the Lord to build a mansion. The treasury of the " House of Israel " was empty ; so the pillars of the Church met, and on consultation agreed to let Wroe have the Flying Roll money. This was a fund to which, after the death of Joanna Southcott, all sealed members paid according to their income or ability. It was a sacred fund retained by the Society for the purpose of publishing the Eternal Gospel and sending it to all parts of the world, proclaiming the millennium, the outpouring of the Spirit, and the Great Desolation. This eternal Gospel was to be published forty years after the death of Joanna.* The sum amounted to a large amount — over two thousand pounds. Wroe bought a piece of land on a height near Wakefield, and on this began to build. The house, said Wroe, was to be dedicated to the Lord, and was to belong to the members of the " House of Israel " gathered out of all nations. No architect was to be employed. It was to be built as the Spirit directed. Subscription-books were issued to all the sanctuaries. Every member's contribution was to be entered separately, and no man was to know what his neighbour gave. The poorest workman was to contribute not less than 10 per * Is it more than a coincidence that the Southcottites should reproduce the forms and terminology of a heresy of the fourteenth century? The Abbot Joachim was the prophet then, and his " Eternal Gospel " pro- claimed precisely the same doctrines as the *' Eternal Gospel" of Joanna. This heresy invaded the ranks of the Franciscans, and pro- duced a tremendous schism, which ended in the prescription of the Fraticelli. For an account of the Abbot Joachim and the Eternal Gospel see Hahn, '• Ketzer Geschichte," ii. and iii, ; and Dean Mil- man's "Latin Christianity." 52 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. cent, of his earnings.* All extra gifts were to be sent to John Wroe at Wrenthorpe, near Wakefield, and those who did not wish to pay to the local treasurers might send their subscriptions direct to the Prophet. During 1855 and 1856 post-office orders poured in from all parts, and it was said in Wakefield at the time that Wroe had more orders cashed than all the tradesmen of the town put together. The female members of the Society were to furnish the mansion. They were not to tell their husbands how much they gave ; and many put down their names for sums which they really could not pay, and had to sell goods and borrow cash to keep up their payments to the end of 1856.! The land was bought of Mr. William Ramsden, farmer, of Wrenthorpe, and was conveyed by Mr. Haigh, solicitor, of Horbury, to John Wroe, and not to the Society. A farm of upwards of a hundred acres was bought in addi- tion, and was conveyed to himself. The rumour of this produced some uneasiness among the members, and twenty of them waited on the Prophet to question him about the conveyance. He spoke them fair, assured them that the mansion and land would go to the Society, and in their presence drew up a will wherein he devised the whole estate to the Society. Messrs. Snell, Currey, Gill, and Farren, leading members and pillars of the Church, witnessed it, and departed in satisfaction to their homes. A fortnight after, Wroe sent for a solicitor of * The members were obliged to keep books of their earnings, and exhibit them, to prove that they paid 10 per cent, to Wroe. t This information comes from some of those who were thus vic- timised. Some members turned total abstainers, others vegetarians, to economise money in oidcr to pay their subscriptions. Prophet Wroe. Wakefield, and privately drew up a new will, cancelling the old one, and in this latter will he devised the mansion and ninety-eight acres of land to his grandson, James Wroe; and to his daughters, Susanna and Sarah, property pro- ducing about ;^5o per annum to each ; and to his only son Joseph property of the value of ;^6o per annum. The mansion was designed somewhat in the style of Melbourne Town Hall. It cost upwards of /^2ooo, but need not have cost half as much. When Wroe saw how the money poured in, he had the north-east wing taken com- pletely down, and enlarged the building. Much of the work was done two or three times over. The glazier (Mr. Slater) had a contract to do all the glazing, and as soon as his contract was finished, Wroe contracted with Mr. Slater to take every square of glass out again, and put good plate- glass into the windows instead. Wroe found he could not get on without an architect, and therefore employed JNIr. Thorpe, of Wakefield, and worried him out of all endurance. Wroe visited Australia in 1850, 1854, 1859, and 1862. He was in America in 1840, 1848, 1853, and 1859. His wife died May i6th, 1853, aged seventy-four years, a fortnight after he left for America. He is said to have treated her badly. On his travels he assumed diiferent names ; sometimes he called himself Johanan Asrael, sometimes Yokkow or Yockaman. He obtained the name of " Pudding Wroe " among the urchins of Wakefield and Bradford ; the origin of this was as follows : — After one of his long trances, he began to walk about, and was asked by acquaintances concerning his health and appetite, and "What could be eat or fancy?" His invariable answer was, " Nowt but pudding." The boys used to shout after him — " Pudding Wroe/' or 54 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. " Nowt but pudding," and this highly incensed the Prophet. One day, after he had had this cry ringing in his ears, he came home, and, standing in the door, saw the table laid for dinner, and his wife and children ready in their places. " What is for dinner to-day ? " asked Wroe. " Nowt but pudding ! " shouted the incautious children. Wroe flew into a passion, and said to his wife, " I'll tell thee what, lass, I wi'nt have yon stuff called pudding ony more." " Why, lad ! " said Mrs. Wroe, " what are t' bairns to call it, then ? " " They mun call it so/^ meaf," answered John. Wroe purchased a handsome mule with a long flowing tail, and a basket carriage. The harness was of the best kind, with silver buckles, &c. One day when Wroe drove to Sandal, and left his mule and carriage outside the house where he had business, some evil-disposed persons shaved the mule's tail. Wroe raved and threatened, but could not find the guilty parties. He never went near Sandal after- wards. The following is Wroe's receipt for curing a cold : — Put two gallons of boiling water in a large bottle, and place a funnel on the neck ; put your face in the mouth of the funnel, and throw a blanket over your head ; thus you inhale the steam, and are thrown into a perspiration. Wroe would put a pillow in the oven, lay his head on it, and let the oven be heated as hot as he could bear it, to drive away a head cold. In his last voyage to Australia, in 1862, he fell upon the deck of the ship wheft it was rolling, and dislocated his shoulder. The doctor set it, but it soon fell out of place again, and never was right after. Prophet Wroe, 55 On the day of his death, which occurred at Fitzroy, in AustraUa, he had been out walking as usual, and seemed in his wonted health. On his return from a walk he seated himself in his chair, and suddenly fell forward on the floor, and was taken up a corpse. He had been collecting money in Australia ; and directly it was rumoured that Wroe was dead, all the members in Melbourne demanded back their money, and threatened to roughly handle Benjamin Eddow, Wroe's companion and secretary, unless he restored the subscriptions. He was obliged to surrender some of the cash, and to conceal himself. He got away the following day, and remained hidden in a blacksmith's shop till he could find a ship on which to get back to England. He brought with him between six and seven hundred pounds. The Melbourne Society complained that Wroe had not kept faith with them, for he had promised them he would never die 56 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. BISHOP-DYKE POND * N the Monday following Palm Sunday, being the 14th of April, 1690, William Barwick, a man living in Cawood, a village a few miles south of York, on the Ouse, below its junction with the Wharfe, took his wife a stroll along a pleasant lane leading to Bishop Wood, then an extensive tract of forest trees, and even now one of the wildest and most picturesque spots in the neighbourhood of Selby. Mary Barwick was expecting her confinement at no great distance of time. William made her walk before him ; they crossed the little bridge over Bishop's Dyke, and entered a close or field where was a pond. It was sur- rounded by thick rushes, and the willows were covered with their silken tufts, unrifled by the children for " palms " on the preceding day. William Barwick looked round. No one was in sight. He seized his wife, threw her into the pond, and did not let go his hold till she was drowned. When he was quite satisfied that life was extinct, he drew the body out of the water, and concealed it among the rushes which lay between * J. Aubery, in his "Miscellanies upon Various Subjects,'' 1696, gives the particulars of this curious story. Bishop -Dyke Pond. 5 7 the water and the quickwood hedge. He then returned home. At dusk he revisited the spot, and taking a hay-spade from a rick that stood in the field, he made a hole by the side of the pond, and there buried the popr woman in her clothes. What was the motive which actuated William Barwick does not transpire. Next day Barwick visited his brother in-law at Rufforih, three miles east from York, a man named Thomas Loft- house, who had married the sister of poor Mary Barvvicl:, and told him that his wife Mary had gone to his uncle, Richard Harrison, in. Selby, where she was likely to remain for some time. Lofthouse gave no thought to this announcement. Whether he supposed that Barwick was in difficulties, and it was likely to prove advantageous to his wife that she should be confined in Selby instead of at home, where she could have more comforts \ or whether he thought there had been a quarrel, and the announcement of Barwick intimated a separation, I do not know. At all events, the statement of Barwick caused no surprise to his brother-in-law, nor did it arouse any suspicion of foul play in his mind. Exactly a week after that visit, on Tuesday in Easter week, about halfpast twelve o'clock in the afternoon, Thomas Lofthouse, having occasion to water a quickset hedge not far from his house, brought water for the purpose in a pail. As he was going for the second pailful, he suddenly observed a woman, in shape like his sister-in- law, going before him towards the pond. He was startled, but hardly thought at the moment that he saw a ghost. The figure glided before him, and seated itself on a rising green bank right over against the pond ; he walked before 58 Yoi'kshlre Oddities and Incidents. her as he went to the pond, and as he returned with the pail full of water he looked sideways to see if the figure was still there. He saw the face — it was that of Mary Bar- wick, but deadly pale ; the lips bloodless, the teeth showing, and the eyes fixed on something white, which he thought was a bag at the time, but afterwards supposed to be a baby, which she seemed to be dandling. As soon as he had emptied his pail, he went into his yard, and stood still to see if the figure was still in the same spot; but by this time it had vanished. Lofthouse said nothing about what he had seen till evening. He was saying family prayers that night before retiring to rest, when, in praying for their friends and rela- tions, he came to the name of his sister-in-law. He faltered, trembled, his voice broke down, and he could scarcely conclude his devotions. When he went to bed he told his wife everything, and the poor woman was dreadfully alarmed. She implored her husband next day to go to Selby and see Richard Harrison, at whose house Barwick had said his wife was staying. He promised to do so, and on the morrow early saddled his horse and rode to Selby. His nearest road was by York, Cawood, and Wiston; but he had no mind to meet William Barwick, and he therefore took the high road from York by Escrick, Riccal, and Barlby. On reaching Selby he soon ascertained that poor Mary Barwick had never been there. On his return he went to the Lord Mayor of York ; and having obtained a warrant, got Barwick apprehended and brought before the Mayor. The wretched man then acknowledged what he had done, and his confession was written down and signed in the presence of the Lord Mayor. To this were annexed the Bis hop -Dyke Pond. 59 depositions of Lofthouse, and Barwick was consigned to York Castle. These depositions are of sufficient interest to be here given verbatim : — *' The Information of Thomas Lofthouse, of Rufforth, taken upon oath the twenty-fourth day of April, 1690; who sayeth and deposeth, — "That one William Barwick, who lately married this informant's wife's sister, came to this informant's house about the 14th instant, and told this informant he had carried his wife to one Richard Harrison's house in Selby, who was uncle to him, and would take care of her ; and this informant, hearing nothing of the said Barwick's wife, his said sister-in-law, imagined he had done her some mis- chief, did yesterday go to the said Harrison's house in Selby, where he said he had carried her to ; and the said Harrison told this informant he knew nothing of the said Barwick or his wife ; and this informant doth verily believe the said Barwick to have murdered her. " Thomas Lofthouse. " Jurat die et anno super dicto coram me. "S. Dawson, Mayor." "The examination of the said William Barwick, taken the day and year abovesaid, who sayeth and con- fesseth, — "That he, this examinant, on Monday was seventh night, about two o'clock in the afternoon, this examinant was walking in a close betwixt Cawood and Wiston ; and he farther sayeth that he threw his said wife into the pond, where she was drowned ; and the day following, towards 6o Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. evening, got a hay-spade at a hay-stake in the said close, and made a grave beside the said pond, and buried her. " William Barwick. " Exam. capt. die et anno super diet, coram me. "S. Dawson, Mayor." " The Examination of WilHam Barwick, taken the twenty- fifth day of April, 1690, who sayeth and confesseth, — " That he carried his wife over a certain wain-bridge, called Bishop-Dike Bridge, betwixt Cawood and Sherborne, and within a lane about one hundred yards from the said bridge, and on the left hand of the said bridge, he and his wife went over a stile, on the left-hand side of a certain gate entering into a certain close, on the left hand of the said lane; and in a pond in the said close, adjoining to a quickwood hedge, did drown his wife, and upon the bank of the said pond did bury her ; and further, that he was within sight of Cawood Castle, on the left hand ; and that there was but one hedge betwixt the said close where he drowned his said wife and the Bishop-slates belonging to the said castle. "William Barwick. *' Exam. capt. die et anno super diet, coram me. "S. Dawson, Mayor." William Barwick was tried and convicted before Sir John Powell, Knight, at the Summer Assizes held in York on the iSth of September, 1690. "On Tuesday, September the seventeenth, 1690, at York Assizes, Thomas Lofthouse, of Rufforth, within three miles of York city, sayeth, — " That on Easter Tuesday last, about half an hour after Bishop-Dyke Pond. 6 1 twelve of the clock in the daytime, he was watering quick- wood, and as he was going for the second pail there appeared, walking before him, an apparition in the shape of a woman. Soon after, she sat down over against the pond, on a green hill ; he walked by her as he went to the pond, and as he came with the pail of water from the pond, look- ing sideways to see if she sat in the same place, which he saw she did; and had on her lap something like a white bag, a-dandling of it (as he thought), which he did not observe before. After he had emptied his pail of water, he stood in his yard to see if he could see her again, but could not. He says her apparel was brown cloathcs, waistcoat and petticoat, a white hood, uch as his wife's sister usually wore, and her face looked extream pale, her teeth in sight, no gums appearing, her visage being like his wife's sister, and wife to William Barwick. (Signed) "Thomas Lofthouse." When Barwick ascended the gallows to be hung he told the hangman that he hoped the rope was strong enough, as if it should break with his weight he would fall to the ground and become a cripple for life. His apprehensions, however, were soon quieted, for the hangman assured him he might venture upon it with perfect confidence. After he was dead the body was hung in chains by the pond where the murder had been committed. 62 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. SNOWDEN DUNHILL, THE CONVICT. HE following life of a thief and housebreaker, written by himself, is curious and sad.* The talent it exhibits, and the real feeling which peeps out here and there, show that the man, had he been better brought up, and subjected in early youth to religious influences, might have made of him a man very superior to the ordinary agricultural labourer. The man cannot have been deficient in his secular education. His style is singularly good for one in his class, but of moral education he had none. The only religion he knew of was that of his wife, Sally Dunhill, a fanatic, who combined hysterical piety with gross dis- honesty : — " I was born at a small village on the Wolds in the East Riding of Yorkshire. The earliest circumstance of which I have any remembrance is that of following bare-headed and on foot, a waggon containing furniture belonging to a farmer who was removing to the village of Spaldington, near Howden. Of my parents I have but an indistinct remembrance, for I never returned to them, but continued * " The Life of Snowden Dunhill, \Yritten by Himself." Ho.vden. 1S33. S^iowden Dunhill, the Convict. 6 J to reside in the village of my adoption, and principally in the house of the family I had accompanied. " Spaldington is a secluded and purely agricultural village. My earliest recollections are connected with the old hall at that place, a fine building, erected in the time of Queen Elizabeth. This house, with its peaked roof, ornamented with large round stones, its moats, its rookery, and the reputation of being haunted by a fairy, is yet strongly impressed upon my memory. But the old seat of the De la Hayes, the Vescis, and the Vavasours totters to its fall. " I well remember the tradition which prevailed in the village, that one of the De Vescis was a competitor for the crown of Scotland, he having married a daughter of the King of that country. The burthen of an old song, which is supposed to relate to some eventful battle in which De Vesci bore a conspicuous part, still clings to my memory, and now, with a world between me and the spot, I often catch myself humming the chorus — " ' And the drums they did beat, and the trumpets did sound, And the cannons did roar fit to tear up the ground; For its oh ! brave, gallant, and brave, For the honour of England's crown. ' " Snowden Dunhill's youth was spent much as that of other rural bumpkins ; he wrestled, played football, and was pas- sionately fond of cock-fighting. One day, when only six years old, he saved the life of a little companion with whom he was playing by the side of the moat round the Old Hall at Spaldington. The child fell into the water, sank, and rose for the last time, when little Snowden, with great pluck, jumped in after his play- mate, and caught him by the dress. The two children struggled in the water, and the drowning boy nearly 64 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. dragged little Snowden under. But Snovvden maintained his hold, and succeeded in dragging his comrade to the bank. At fourteen or fifteen Snowden Dunhill, being a strong lad, was taken into a small farmhouse to work for his food and clothes. His master died shortly after, but his widow carried on the farm. She was very poor, the farm was small, and the widow took her meals with the farm servants in the kitchen. Dunhill was given no pocket-money, and, as he kept fighting-cocks and liked occasionally to go to the public- house to have a game of balls, he was driven to obtain money by theft. " During this time I practised a variety of petty thefts without being suspected, I took apples, eggs, or anything I could lay my hands on, and the corn which ought to have been given to the horses found its way to my game cocks, of which I had several. These acts, which are generally practised by farmers' servants, were confirmed into a habit before I had begun to think them wrong. The education of this class is so utterly neglected, and their morals so little attended to, that I have long been satisfied that the honesty of the rural districts is very much inferior to that of the towns. " My next step in life — the most important one to all — was marriage, and mine assuredly deepened the darkest shades of my character. It was not a connexion of the heart, but one almost of fear, for the woman to whom I paid my ad- dresses was the being who ruled me from the first moment of our ^^cquaintance. Had it been my fortune to have met with an honest and industrious woman, my destiny might Snowden Dim hill, the Convict. 65 have been different. But if, as the proverb says, ' Marriages are made in heaven,' it does not become me to complain. "We lived a short time in the village of Spaldmgton, but one farmer missed his corn, the wife of another her poultry, a third her apples, and a fourth her bees ; when the bees were missed I fancy they thought nothing could escape us. They were easily moved and carried into our cottage, but the buzzing, the stinging, and the bother of the business, determined me never again to attempt a similar under- taking. The proverb of running your head into a swarm of bees has ever since appeared to me the most forcible m the English language. " We were then put into a house in the lanes of Spalding- ton, in the road between Howden and Market-Weighton, apart from any other residence, and in the very best situa- tion that could have been chosen if the farmers had wished us to continue our system of plunder. I had never been accustomed to work, and I had now very little wish to learn. The new connexions which I speedily formed put me in the way of obtaining a better though more pre- carious subsistence. " I continued to live in the cottage above alluded to, and my family increasing rapidly, rendered it necessary to ex- tend my operations. The farmers in the neighbourhood were at first the greatest sufferers, and there was scarcely a barn or granary within several miles which I had not the means of entering when I chose. Either from discarded servants, or from labourers who were daily about the farm- houses, I got all the information 1 wanted. "At this time I was master of two good horses, and I had a numerous connexion among servants and labourers. But what I found most useful was a secret understanding with 66 YorksJuve Oddities aiid Incidents. two or three millers, by whose means I got rid of all the corn which I stole. Millers are generally reputed to be great rogues, but in. their dealings with me I found them quite the contrary. The most dishonest persons with whom 1 had dealings were the attorneys, and they stripped me of the fruits of my toil with most surprising expedition and facility. This, however, will be seen in the sequel. *' About this time I was concerned in a robbery at Bub- with, by which I obtained a considerable sum of money. After our arrangements were made, a comrade entered the house through a back window, by taking an iron bar out of the frame, the wood being quite rotten from age and damp. In scrambling in he kicked from the shelf a large earthen- ware vessel, and immediately after he himself tumbled head foremost into the pantry, a depth of six or seven feet. The uproar occasioned by his fall caused us to take to our heels and make to our horses, which were at no great distance, in a large field behind the house. We laid down and listened for a 'considerable time, and hearing nothing, we approached the house again by degrees, and eventually got up to the very window. A low whistle from me was instantly answered, which at once told us all went well. We found the back door open for us, and our comrade, no way alarmed, busy rummaging some drawers, and putting into a sack everything he took a fancy to. "As I had formerly lived in the service of a near rela- tion of the old lady to whom the house belonged (I had forgotten to say it was a widow lady's house we took the liberty with), I found no difiiculty in laying my hands upon the tinder-box, candles, and everything else. It was an exceedingly stormy night, or I think we must have been heard, for we carried a chest of drawers out of the house Snoiuden Diinhill, the Convict. 67 and actually beat them to pieces, not being able to open them. I knew that she had a considerable sum of money, and I hoped we had found it, but it turned out to be a box of farthings ; and I was afterwards exceedingly provoked on learning that we had missed three hundred guineas in gold which the old lady had in her lodging room. I also learned that she had a presentiment that she would be robbed, and made an observation to that eftect the day before — one of those curious anticipating feelings for which I know not how to account, but which have in several instances happened to myself, when coming events, as it were, cast their shadows before. " But to return to our adventure. After helping our- selves to such things as we thought of most value, and such as could be most easily conveyed away on our horses, and drinking the good old lady's health in some excellent home-made wine, we mounted our horses, with four sacks filled with many things of value. We took a route so as to avoid the toll-bars and public roads, and reached my house just as the sun was beginning to chase away the darkness which had proved so propitious to us. Having instantly buried all the things, my companions departed, and all was soon ready for the reception of any of those enemies of my profession, the constables, should they pay us a visit. However, none came, and though I was generally sup- posed to be the person who did the deed, no steps were taken to make it out against me. This is one of the very {q.v{ exploits of the kind I was ever engaged in, and as to highway robberies, I never dreamed of committing one. " I had now accumulated a considerable sum of money, which I lent out on note to several farmers in the nei^h- 68 Yoi'ksJdre Oddities and Incidents. bourhood, most of whom, from fear or other considerations, were glad to be on good terms with me. Such occurrences as the following frequently happened : — * Well, Snowden, how do you do ? ' would Farmer say, meeting me in the street towards dusk on a market-day. ' Are you going home to-night?' 'Aye, my lad,' was my general reply. * I wanted to see you,' retorted the farmer, ' I have just received fifty pounds for some oats ; I wish you would take care of it for me, and I will ask you for it again some day when I meet you.' I took charge of the money, and was ever most punctual in returning it. I could not help laugh- ing, however, at the odd mixture of feelings that must have dictated such a choice of a banker. I dare say some of these very farmers have since met with bankers not quite so punctual in their payments as I was in mine. " I was once busily employed in coursing a hare when I was pounced upon by a Mr. . He came suddenly upon me, with so many violent denunciations that I was for a time really in a fright. However, I eventually recovered my recollection, and had the good sense to leave him with- out giving way to any abusive language in reply. I secretly, however, resolved to have my revenge, and that in a way at once in accordance with my profession and my own interest. I ordered two or three of the persons I could place the most reliance in to be ready to accompany me with their horses to Foggathorpe, the village in which I think the gentleman resided. I had long had a key of his granary, in which I knew he had recently stored a quantity of wheat of the finest quality, and for which the soil of that village is much famed. " We had already been up to the granary once with our horses, having taken them loaded away, and secreted several Snowde7t Dimhill, the Convict. 69 sacks of wheat in a wood a little from the turnpike road, and about three miles from the house. We had filled our sacks a second time, and got them upon the horses, having previously placed everything in the granary as we found it, or as nearly so as we could. I had just thrown my legs over my horse, then standing near the steps of the granary, I being the last of the party, when I heard the gentleman's voice, which I at once knew, for neither his early habit of rising nor the tone of his voice were unknown to me. It was quite dark, and I proceeded with great care on the way towards the high road till I reached a gate about seventy or eighty yards from his house. By some mismanagement on my part, I had no sooner passed through the gate than it fell back into its place with considerable noise. I again heard his voice, but I made the best of my way with my load, and I felt no little relief when I found myself in the Market-Weighton turnpike road. Though I had no very great opinion of the gentleman's courage, I felt quite sure he would have used every endeavour to make out the charge against me had his suspicions of what had taken place been once roused. As to his following me alone at that moment I had not the most distant fear, for I knew well the care he always took of himself. However, the whole affair passed over. I never heard that he missed what we took away, and the reason probably was, that he at that very time had a large stock of wheat on hand for the purpose of speculation, .as I afterwards learned. I remember this wheat was of such singular good quality that I sold it for the great sum of one guinea and ninepence the bushel, a price I scarcely ever remember to have equalled. " The next thing that occurs to me worthy of remark, and which I had good cause to remember, nearly termi- 'JO YorksJure Oddities and Incidents. nated fatally for myself. I expected a good booty from the information I had previously received. This was an attack upon the property of two bachelors who resided in the same house, in a village about a mile and a half from Hovvden. The house was very near the river Ouse, and we had prepared a boat to carry the gains of the night down the river as far as Swinefleet, this being considered, for many reasons, the readiest mode of moving it from the premises, and I had some friends in that place in whom I placed the greatest confidence. Between one and two o'clock we arrived at the house, and were preparing all things in readiness for the business in hand. I was crossing from the bank of the river over a garden, and so on to the back of the premises. In my way I came to a piece of dead fence, over which I was passing, and which gave a crackling sound under my tread. At that moment I heard a dog bark, and instantly after a shot was fired from the upper part of the eastern end of the house. I had my face at the time rather turned away from the place whence the shot proceeded, and I received the whole of the con- tents in my back and shoulders. I instantly fell ; and I well remember that I thought all was over with me, as I lay for some time with my head in the ditch and my feet upon the dead thorns over which I had just passed, and to which I attributed my mishap ; for the night was so dark I could not be seen, and the shot must have been directed to the noise I made in getting over the fence. As I lay there I could distinctly hear a whispering from a small door in the end of the house, and I greatly feared lest the inmates should sally forth and take me in my defenceless state. With my head laid upon the ground, the sensation pro- duced upon me by the striking of two o'clock by the Snowdcn DmiJiill, the Convict. 71 church of Howden, I well remember. All was now calm, quiet, and dark ; and I actually felt the earth vibrate under my ear as the hollow bell threw over the land its sullen sound. I have understood, since I came here, that the savages in America always resort to this mode of listen- ing for the approach of a friend or an enemy. But to return to myself again. " I at length contrived with great difficulty to get upon my feet ; and, with still greater exertion and much loss of blood, I reached the boat, where I found my men in great consternation and alarm. One of them pushed the boat adrift, and the tide soon carried it away with the waters. They then supported me at a slow pace to Howden, where I arrived almost in a state of insensibility, from the com- bined effects of pain and loss of blood. By my desire they took me to the house of a medical man of my acquaintance, and knocked at his door. He soon came down, and without asking a single question, stripped me; and during the night he extracted no fewer than thirty- eight large shot corns from my back and shoulders. " I ctinnot even now recall the agony I suffered without a shudder; and my general health and strength never re- covered from the shock I received. I remained secluded for a considerable time, but thanks to the attentive care of my wife, and my own sober habits, for I never was an habitual drunkard, I speedily was able to get out again. In all my night excursions after this adventure I employed the greatest circumspection. " My inward disposition was accurately betokened by my countenance and outward appearance. I was tall and large-limbed, but neither clumsily nor powerfully made. I speak now of forty years of age ; for sufferings, mental and 72 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidenls. bodily, have entirely changed my face and figure. My hair was light, my eyes a bluish grey, my countenance round and somewhat florid. In my looks I always fancied that I resembled two men of no little celebrity — I mean Sir Walter Scott and William Cobbett, who certainly bear a considerable resemblance to each other. But this may be my vanity, for the best of us are not free from it. " In my manners I was boisterous, and in tone familiar with all, and overbearing with most. However, my general appearance promised anything but cruelty and dishonesty 3 and, thank God, no one can charge me with the former, whatever may be said of the latter. " I must, however, plead guilty to one or two acts of apparent cruelty towards my horses, but wkich rather rose from the necessity of self-preservation than from any other cause. It has often happened to me, for the purpose of reaching a given place by a certain hour of the night, to be compelled to strain my horse to the full extent of his speed. I knew so well the general opinion entertained towards me, that I felt I must find the greatest difficulty in clearing myself from anything like a reasonable suspicion of crime. *' I distinctly remember once having upon me a con- siderable sum of money, and I was riding at full speed upon a narrow strip of green sward by the road side, which was nearly covered by the extended branches of the trees. The moon was shining beautifully through them, and in contemplating her I felt a soothing calmness spread over my soul, which I cannot well account for or explain the cause of. My musings were suddenly cut short by a deep- drawn sigh from my horse, then a slight shudder, and the next moment he was dead under me. I cried like a Snowden Dunkill, the Convict. 73 child. I raised his head, but all in vain, no trace of life remained. *' By the moon's rays, which at that instant shot through an opening in a dark Scots fir immediately over his head, I saw the film of death rapidly spread over his eyes, and felt his limbs stiffen under my grasp. I had to travel several miles on foot, pretty well loaded, and through a very lonely and suspicious-looking part of the country. However, I reached the house of one of my friends towards morning, to his no small astonishment, he thinking me fifty miles distant in a different direction. " My horse was soon recognised ; and had any robbery been perpetrated within a reasonable distance of the place where he fell, of course it must have been done by me. The common question of the whole neighbourhood was, ' What had I been doing?' However, this never transpired. I ever afterwards tied a piece of raw beef round the bit of my bridle when about to make hard use of my horse, and I always thought that it afforded him considerable help. I need not observe that this was done in imitation of poor Dick Turpin, whose history is infinitely better known than mine can ever pretend to be. " On the night of the 25th of October, 181 2, I felt a pre- sentiment that something sinister was about to happen to me. Few men have passed through life, particularly those of an excitable temperament, who have not felt some boding of this kind. I was seated in my chair by the fire, taking my accustomed pipe — an indulgence I never omitted the last thing at night — when this sudden impression came over me. My wife observed that something was the matter, and questioned me on the subject. However, as I knew she would only laugh at me, I did not tell her the cause. 74 Vor/c shire Oddities and Incidents. " In the middle of the forenoon, whilst I was listening to my daughter Rose, who was my favourite, she suddenly looked up and said, in a hurried tone, * Father, there are several men coming to the house.' It instantly occurred to me that something had happened during the past night, and that my forebodings would not prove vain. However, as my whole family knew that I had not stirred out during the night, I had little fear ; and this circumstance even led me to suppose that it might be some mistake. " By this time the party had arrived at the door of the cottage, and one of them gave me to understand that he had a justice's search-warrant, and that I was their prisoner. I submitted at once to be taken into custody, and I was immediately secured. Some of the party then began to rummage every drawer and corner of the house, amidst the very voluble abuse of my wife. They, however, found nothing they came to search for, which, as I soon learned, was some wheat stolen during the last night from a neigh- bouring farmer. *' On this information I felt considerable relief, conscious of my innocence ; but my wife became perfectly outrageous when the constable refused to take her word that I had never stirred over my threshold since six o'clock of the preceding evening. She, poor woman, swore she would take the law of them 3 threatened writs, indictments, jus- tices, and I know not what \ and I verily believed she would have inflicted summary vengeance on the head of the constable with the poker, so furious had she become, fiom a consciousness that the accusation was without foundation. " However, in spite of all her threats and rage, I was speedily conveyed before the justice who granted the Suowdcn Dunhill^ the Convict. /D warrant, and on the oath of a person, who swore that he was going along a road near my house and towards the farm-house in question, about two o'clock in the morning, that he saw a horse and two men returning from it, and that he was quite sure I was one of them, my commitment was made out for the House of Correction at Beverley. " All this took so short a time that I scarcely attempted to defend myself 3 and indeed I scarcely even know now how I could effectually have done so. For I could only bring the members of my own family to prove that I had not been out of my cottage, and of course they would not have been believed against the positive evidence of the witness who swore to my person, though he was, according to his own statement, fifty yards distant from me — in addi- tion to this, at two o'clock in the morning." The prosecutor of Snowden Dunhill was Mr. Barnard Clarkson, of Holme, at that time a partner in the Howden Bank. The consciousness that her husband was ignorant of the robbery imputed to him caused Sally Dunhill to regard him as a martyr. Her Ranting enthusiasm was excited, and she wrote a long letter to the prosecutor, denouncing him, in Biblical terms, as one who " compassed about " the righteous man "with words of hatred, and fought against him without a cause " ; and announced to him that she had given herself up to prayer against him (Clarkson), and invoked the malediction of heaven upon his head — " Let his pos- terity be cut otf ; and in the generations following let their name be blotted out," And she concluded this strange epistle with the words of the Psalmist : " Let them curse, but bless thou : when they arise, let them be ashamed ; but let thy servant rejoice. Let mine enemies be clothed with 76 YorlcsJure Oddities and Incidents. shame, and let them cover themselves with their own con- fusion as with a mantle. I will greatly praise the Lord with my mouth ; yea I will praise him among the multitude, for he shall stand at the right hand of the poor, to save him from those that condemn his soul." Snowden Dunhill continues in his Autobiography : — " I now, for the first time, became an inmate of a prison, an event I had always held in the greatest horror. As it was well known that I had plenty of money, I had very soon the proffered and apparently disinterested assistance of an attorney. My situation was maturely considered, and it was soon determined that a writ of habeas corpus should be put in, for the purpose of taking my trial at the approaching Assizes at York, in preference to Beverley. " I was in consequence taken up to London in custody, after the writ was obtained, and my trial was appointed to take place at York, principally on this ground, as urged by counsel, that my character was so notorious in the East Riding of Yorkshire that no unprejudiced jury could there be impannelled. The reader may be sure that all this was done at no slight expense ; but perhaps he will not believe me when I assure him that by the time my counsel had received his fee for the approaching defence I had scarcely a shilling left in the world. " The March Assizes of 18x3 at length arrived, when I gave myself up to the gaoler of the Castle, and I was soon placed in the dock. My eyes were cast on the ground, and I for a time felt stupified. However, I at last raised them to the objects before me, and the first that caught them was the judge himself, then the counsel, and then the immense crowd of spectators who had assembled to hear my trial. I soon was calm enough to discover in the Snozvdcn Dunhill, the Convict. 77 gallery the faces of many persons I knew, and I endea- voured to put on a forced courage by nodding familiarly at them, and by appearing to be utterly careless of what was going forward. " The indictment was read over to me, and I was called upon to hold up my hand and plead guilty or not guilty ; though I uttered the latter with a loud voice, it was with a full conviction that my doom was sealed. I felt — and I suppose all persons similarly circumstanced feel the same — that not only the assembled people, but that the whole world had combined to destroy me. " The facts above narrated were stated shortly to the jury. The witness swore to my person, and accounted for his being there at that hour, naturally enough, by stating that he had been to visit his sweetheart. The farmer swore to having missed the corn on the night in question. Though my counsel tried to confound the first witness by fierce looks and bullying questions, and by dwelling upon the impossibility of his being able to swear to a person at the distance of fifty yards and at two in the morning, yet he stuck to his oath immovably. I was asked what I wished to say, and all that I could state was that I was innocent ; that I was in bed at the time, and that all the family knew this to be the fact. My wife was anxious to speak for me, but my counsel insisted upon her holding her tongue, which she at last consented to do on his assuring her that she would do my case more harm than good. The jury without the slightest hesitation found me guilty, and the judge at once sentenced me to seven years' transportation. " I was immediately conveyed back to my cell, and a few days afterwards I was forwarded to the hulks. In this 7 8 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. miserable banishment I passed six years, enibitlered by the most dreadful account of my family, every member of it, even in the remotest degree, having transgressed the laws of his country, and was then undergoing for his offences the punishment awarded to him. Could hope under any form have presented herself to me, I felt that I might yet be a reclaimed man, but I could not catch the most distant glimpse of her. My years passed on in the midst of misery the most distressing, till they at last came to an end. I obtained my discharge or pardon a short time before the expiration of my full term, for I had been guilty of no violence, or insolence, or excess, since my arrival. " I left this abode of vice and misery without a friend on the face of the earth, and unconscious where to find even a momentary place of refuge. There are many unfortunate individuals who, had they a house or employment to fly to after having undergone their periods of punishment, would be glad to betake themselves to habits of honesty and in- dustry. But, unluckily for them, they are turned out with- out a refuge to resort to, and necessity, and not inclination, drives them to the commission of fresh crimes. "As to myself, I returned to Spaldington, but the change which my worldly prospects and circumstances had under- gone was in the extreme overwhelming. Some of these misfortunes I well knew, but to others I was an entire stranger, and I cannot at this day lay blame to anyone but myself for them. My evil example pointed out the way of lawless depredation to my children, in characters so legible that they could not fail to read and study them. " The farmers of the village had thought it right to clear my cottage of every one connected with me in name, re- lationship, or blood. Snowdcn DunJiill, the Convict. 79 "I felt at a great loss where to fix, or to what object to turn myself for a livelihood and bare subsistence. As to my children and connections, they were scattered in every direction, and for the most part undergoing the punishment due to their crimes. " My daughter, my favourite daughter, Rose, had been committed, and sentenced to confinement in York Castle. During her imprisonment she was delivered of a bastard- child \ what its fate may be, heaven alone can tell ! She was visited in the Castle by a gentleman from Howden, for the purpose of proffering her some assistance in her neces- sitous situation. This I have understood she indignantly refused. Holding up her new-born babe to his gaze, she said, * See ! he has hands to help himself, and if ever there was a true-born rogue, here he is ! ' Thus, like Hannibal towards Rome, was this poor child devoted from its earliest infancy to war against all the settled institutions of society. " After her release from York the reader will readily imagine from this anecdote of her, that she w^ould speedily fall into another scrape. This soon happened. She was committed to Wakefield House of Correction, again tried and found guilty, and I have never since heard of her. She had cohabited with two different men, both of whom passed as her husband. Their names were M'Dowel and Conner, and they both have been transported. " My daughter, Sarah Dunhill, after having been confined in York Castle, was tried at the East Riding Sessions at Beverley, and imprisoned one year. She was subsequently tried at the Borough Sessions at Beverley for picking the pocket of a gentleman named Scholfield, and stealing from him a considerable sum of money. "During her trial she made a moving appeal to the So YorJcshire Oddities and Incidents. barristers present, stating that she had always found them her best friends ; that their ingenuity had often assisted her in the hour of need, and she yet reposed faith in their kindness, and proudly left her honesty and honour in their keeping. The Recorder, startled into momentary confusion at the nature of this appeal, speedily recovered his dignity, and inflicted on her the doom of the law. She was at this time residing at Hull, and had come over to Beverley fair that morning for the purpose of depredation. For this offence she was transported for seven years. She had three husbands, named James Stanhope, William Rhodes, and James Crossland, all of whom were severally transported, one after the other. ' ' My son, William Dunhill, was transported at the York Assizes for the term of fourteen years. He, poor fellow, died immediately on his arrival in New South Wales. He was the most promising of my family, and with different examples before him, and good advice, would probably have proved an ornament to society. " Robert Taylor, son of my wife by a former husband, and who lived under the same roof with us for several years, was also* transported. " I think I omitted to state that my wife at the time I married her was a widow, and her name was Taylor. Her husband was shot in attempting to commit a robbery shortly before I married her, a circumstance which was not known to me, and which she never mentioned. "As to my wife, she was also transported, after having contrived innumerable depredations, and been the cause of those fatal events which befel herself, myself, and the rest of the family. " A robbery committed at Howden was readily traced Snowden Dunhill, the Convict. 8 1 home to the inmates of our house ; suspicion fell at once upon them, and the furniture, watches, coins, and many other stolen articles were found on my premises. But as this and many other things happened during my absence, and as I never again saw several members of my family, I am the less particular in narrating them, from my great anxiety that nothing should appear in this history of myself for which I cannot vouch the truth." Snowden returned to Spaldington, found his family dis- persed, his cottage occupied by other tenants, and no one in the village disposed to receive him with open arms. The farmers naturally viewed his return with alarm, and he found none in the neighbourhood disposed to give him work, had he cared to take it. But steady work was dis- tasteful to him. Had he sought it in other parts of York- shire he might readily have found it. Instead of this he loafed about, sulky and angry with society. By degrees he formed new connections, in Hull and Lincolnshire, and resumed his former dishonest practices in concert with them. " I had heard much of the easy lives led by the convicts in New South Wales ; and, moreover, some members of my family were already there, and I felt impelled to make an endeavour to join them. " I had not long to wait for the gratification of this wish, for I was soon traced to the commission of a paltry crime. I was apprehended, tried, and convicted ; my character did the rest, and readily procured for me that banishment from England on which I had set my heart. My trial took place at a district Quarter Sessions in the north of Lincolnshire, in the gaol of which I was only detained a few days when, with several others, I was transmitted, pinioned and loaded G 8 2 YorJcshire Oddities and Incidents. with irons, to London, there to await a ship to convey me to Botany Bay. " It was a cold, bleak morning when I was put upon the coach in the court-yard of the prison, before daylight, with the rain and sleet falling in abundance. The coach remained half-an-hour or more in the yard of the prison till all was in readiness, when the gates were thrown open and we com- menced our inauspicious journey. I cannot at all describe the feelings of loneliness and of heartrending distress which came over me at this moment, in which I felt that I was rushing from certain misery to something that might be even still worse, and yet in my despair I felt a clinging to existence. I have never met with — nay, I have never heard of — a bad man who could look death unflinchingly in the face. On ascending the first rise of the ground in our journey towards London a breeze from the north suddenly sprung up, which scattered the loaded clouds, and the sun burst forth in all its glor}'. There appeared before me, as if a veil had been taken off the earth by magic power, a wide-spread picture. The Humber, glorying in its Scythian name, rolling to the ocean its mass of waters ; and in the distance the winding Trent and Ouse, stealing onward like two wily serpents ; and I could just discover the broad expanse where they became united. *' The beautiful Lincolnshire hills on my left, and the still more beautiful hills, dales, and woods of my own native Yorkshire to the north, lent their charms to form a land- scape I never saw equalled, and in casting my last lingering gaze upon it I felt that the inanimate beauties of creation must now to me for ever be a blank. I strained my eyes to catch as much of it as I could, feeling the prospect, as it were, a part of myself, and necessary to my very Siioivden Dimhlll, the Convict, existence, for there it had commenced, and little at one time did I think at how a great a distance I was doomed to end it. " Arrived at Botany Bay, I was soon disposed of, and com- menced in good earnest the life of a slave. Hard-worked, half-starved, ill-fed, and worse clothed, such is the fate of the hapless convict." Whilst in confinement, Snowden Dunhill wrote his Auto- biography, and much wished to send it to his native village that it might be printed there for circulation. But it was some time before an opportunity presented itself. One October day, 1830, as he was wheeling earth and stones near the pier of Sydney, in the harbour of Port Jackson, he rested for a moment to look at the beautiful bay before him, and compare it with one of the lake-like reaches of the Humber, when he was roused from his musings by a tap on the shoulder, and the salutation of " Well, Snowden, how are you ? " He touched his cap, and looked up. Before him stood a sailor, who grasped his hand and shook it warmly. The sailor was the little boy whose life he had saved in the moat of Spaldington Old Hall so many years before. The sailor gave him some money, and told him he was about to return to Hull. Dunhill at once produced his little Autobiography, and entreated him to take it back to Yorkshire, and get it printed there. The sailor readily promised to do this, and to his fulfilment of the promise we owe the existence of the curious little memoir presented to the reader. In August, 1833, Snowden Dunhill was seen by another Howdeu man, who was at Hobart Town, Van Dieman's 84 Yorlcshire Oddities and Incidents. I and. His account of Dunhill is that he was " a tall, stout man, bent and stooping with suffering and priva- tion more than from natural infirmity, but with the step and assurance of his old self." The Howden man would not have known Dunhill had not the convict heard his name mentioned, and intro- duced himself to him : " Ye're one of 's sons i' How- den ? " in the broadest East Riding Yorkshire. Then, when the stranger answered that he was, Dunhill's eyes filled with tears, and he began to sob. " In external appearance he was not very much altered. The boisterous and overbearing manners of former years yet remained, unsoftened and unrepressed by the sufferings he had undergone. An habitual stoop had bent down his person, and somewhat taken away from the portly and blustering gait of early life. The small, grey, quick, and piercing eye still retained its cunning and prying character. His dress was much the same as he wore in England." Dunhill had received his ticket of freedom at Sydney two or three years before this, and had then removed to Van Dieman's Land, where his wife and daughter were settled. There is a strange irony in facts. Sally Dunhill, who had been unable to rear one of her own children in morality and honesty, so impressed on the people of Hobart Town that she was a saintly woman by her vociferous prayers and familiarity with Holy Scripture, that she was employed in teaching a day-school, and entrusted with the education of children in those paths she had never trodden herself. The residue of her time was spent in making penny pies, which Snowden hawked about the town. Snoiuden Dunkill, the Convict. Snowden Dunhill gradually sank into habitual drunken- ness, and was suspected of reverting to his old tricks of petty larceny. When he died is not known. S6 Vorlishire Oddities and Incidents. JAMES NAYLOR, THE QUAKER,* AMES NAYLOR was bom at East Ardsley, near Wakefield, in 1616. He was the son of a small farmer, whose house was near the old church. He received a passable education in reading, writing, and arithmetic. In 1628, when he was aged twenty-two, he married, and settled in Wakefield parish. He was a diligent reader of the Scriptures, and zealous as an Independent. He spent about three years at Wakefield, and then joined the Parliamentary army as a private in 1641. He rose to become quartermaster of his regiment under MajorGeneral Lambert, but in 1649, on account of ill-health, he was obliged to leave the army and return to Wakefield. The pulpits of the Established Church were now in the hands of Independent ministers, * Authorities : — " The Grand Impostor Examined; or, the Life, Trial, and Examination of James Nay lor, London, 1656,'' reprinted in the Harleian Misc., vi., 424. Johannis Lussenii " Hist. u. Schrifftmassige Erorterung der vor v/enig Zeit in Engelland entstandenen secte der Quacker," in " Quicker Grueuel," published by authority of the magistrates of Hamburg, 1702, *' The Recantation of James Naylor," in " Somers' Tracts," vi., 22, pub. 1659. " Naylor's Writings Col- lected," 8vo, 1716. Sewell's " Hist, of the Quakers," 1714. Sewell was personally acquainted with Hannah Stranger, one of Naylor's followers. "The Journals of the House of Commons," vi., p. 443 — 59. Blome's " Fanatick History." J. Whiting's "Account." James Nay lor, the Quaker. Z'] and that of Horbury, near Wakefield, was occupied by the *' godly and painful Master Marshall," under whom James Naylor sat and groaned with unction. But Naylor relaxed his religious exercises on visits to a Mrs. Roper at Horbury, a lady whose husband had been for some time absent. When this lady became a mother by James Naylor, the Rev. Mr, Marshall thought it neces- sary to expose him, and Naylor, indignant with his Inde- pendent minister, joined the sect of the Quakers, then founded by George Fox. In 1652 he went on a religious visitation to the West, and in 1655 he visited London, in which city a meeting of Quakers had been estabhshed by the ministry of Edward Burrough and Francis Howgill, two men of Westmoreland. Naylor prophesied in the meeting with so great applause that several women began to exalt him above Burrough and Howgill, and disturbed the latter when they attempted to speak. The two ministers reproved the women, and they in dudgeon complained to Naylor, and he encouraged them in their opposition to Burrough and Howgill. Two of these women, Martha Symonds and Hannah Strangers, became his most devoted adherents, and followed him in all his wanderings. In 1656 he revisited the West, prophesied in Cornwall, and on passing through Exeter was arrested under the sweeping charge of vagrancy, and committed to gaol. There he was visited by many devout females, amongst otliers by one Dorcas Erbury, who fell into a swoon, and was revived by Naylor, who cried over her, " Tabitha, I say unto thee, arise ! " She awoke, and the faithful believed that Naylor had restored her from death to life. He was released at length by order of Council and 88 Yo7^1ishi7'e Oddities and Incidents. then he travelled to Bristol at the head of six believers. On reaching Bedminster, a village a mile from Old Bristol, though now a suburb of the town, Naylor and his party formed in procession, intending to produce a scene in the streets of Bristol. One of his disciples, a young man with bare head, led the horse by the bridle upon which Naylor was mounted ; two men followed in single file on horseback, each with his wife on a pillion behind him : and one woman walked on the causeway. As they went forward the six shouted, " Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth ! " till they came to the almshouse in the suburbs of Bristol, " when one of the women alighted, and she, with the other of her own sex, lovingly marched on each side of Naylor's horse." The road was deep in mud and rain was falling, but neither mud nor rain damped the ardour of the enthusiasts. On reaching Redcliffe Gate, Timothy Wedlock, a Devon- shire man of the company, bareheaded, and Martha Symonds holding the bridle on one side and Hannah Stranger holding it on the other, advanced, chanting their hymn of praise Naylor wore a broad-brimmed hat and a long sad-coloured mantle- He was of a moderate height, ruddy complexion, had a slightly arched nose, large brown eyes, was a re- markably handsome man, and was thought by many to resemble the traditional type of face attributed to our Lord. Martha Symonds was the wife of Thomas Symonds, book- binder of London ; and Hannah Stranger was the wife of John Stranger, combmaker in London. The two other women accompanying Naylor were Dorcas Erbury, whom he had raised from the dead, and her mother. In this way the solemn procession advanced to the High James Nay lor, the Qualier. 89 Cross at Bristol, and after that to the White Hart, Broad Street, where lodged two Quakers, Dennis Hollister and Henry Row. The magistrates at once apprehended the party, and com- mitted them to prison. The following is the examination of the prisoners, some- what condensed : — Examination of James Naylor. Being asked his name, he replied, " The men of this world call me James Naylor." Q. " Art not thou the man that rid on horseback into Bristol, a woman leading thy horse, and others saying before thee, ' Holy, holy, holy, Hosannah to the Son of David'?" A. *'I did ride into a town, but what its name was I know not; and by the Spirit a woman was commanded to hold my horse's bridle, and some there were that cast down clothes and sang praises to the Lord, such songs as the Lord put into their hearts ; and it is like it might be the song, ' Holy, holy, holy,' &c." Q. " Whether or no didst thou reprove these women ? " A. *^Nay; but I bade them take heed that they say nothing but what they were moved to by the Lord." Q. " Dost thou own this letter which Hannah Stranger sent unto thee ? " A. " Yes, I do own that letter." Q. " Art thou (according to that letter) the fairest of ten thousand ? " A. " As to the visible, I deny any such attribute to be due unto me ; but if as to that which the Father hath begotten in me, I shall own it." 90 Yorlcshire Oddities and Incidents, Two letters were then produced and read ; we need only give one : — " James Naylor, " Oh ! thou fairest of ten thousand, thou only be- gotten Son of God, how my heart panteth after thee ! O stay me with flaggons and comfort me with wine. My beloved, thou art like a roe or young hart upon the moun- tains of spices, where thy beloved spouse hath long been calling thee to come away, but hath been but lately heard of thee. Now it lies something upon me that thou mindest to see her, for the Spirit and power of God is with her, and there is given to her much of excellent and innocent wisdom arisen and arising in her, which will make all the honest- hearted to praise the Lord alone, and no more set up self. And therefore let not my lord and master have any jealousy against her, for she is highly beloved of the Lord, and that shall all see who come to know the Lord. And now He doth bless them that bless His, and curse them that curse His ; for this hath the Lord showed me, that her portion is exceedingly large in the Lord, and as her sorrow hath been much, so shall her joy be much more ; which rejoiceth my heart to see her walk so valiantly and so faithfully in the work of the Lord, in this time of so great trials as hath been upon her especially. "And I am, " Hannah Stranger. " 77ie Postscript. ** Remember my dear love to thy Master. Thy name is no more James, but Jesus. " John Stranger. " Remember my love to these friends with thee. The James Nay lor, the QicaJcer. 91 17th day of 8th month, superscribed to the hands of James Naylor." Q. " Art thou the only Son of God ? " A. " I am the Son of God; but I have many brethren." Q. " Have any called thee by the name of Jesus ? " A. " Not as unto the visible, but as Jesus, the Christ that is in me ? " Q. " Dost thou own the name of the King of Israel ? " A. " Not as a creature; but if they gave it to Christ within, I own it, and have a kingdom, but not of this world ; my kingdom is of another world, of which thou wotest not." Q. "Whether or no art thou the prophet of the Most High?" A. " Thou hast said I am a prophet?" Q. " By whom were you sent ? " A. " By Him who hath sent the Spirit of His Son in me to try, not as to carnal matters, but belonging to the king- dom of God, by the indwelling of the Father and the Son, to judge all spirits, to be guided by none." Q. " Is not the written Word of God the guide ? " A. '* The written Word declares of it, and what is not according to that is not true." Q. " Who is thy mother ? or whether or no is she a virgin ? " A. "Nay, according to the natural birth." Q, "Who is thy mother according to thy spiritual birth?" A. *' No carnal creature." Q. "Who, then?" He returned no answer. 9 2 Yorlishire Oddities and Incidents. Q. " Art thou the everlasting Son of God? " A. " When God is manifest in the flesh there is the everlasting Son ; and I do witness God in the flesh. I am the Son of God, and the Son of God is but one." Q. " Art thou the everlasting Son of God, the King of Righteousness?" A. " I am ; and the everlasting righteousness is wrought in me ; if ye were acquainted with the Father ye would also be acquainted with me." Q. " Do any kiss thy feet ? " A. " It might be they did, but I minded them not." Q. " How dost thou provide for a livelihood ? " A. " As do the lilies, without care, being maintained of my Father." Q. " What business hast thou at Bristol, or that way ? " A. " I was guided and directed by my Father." Q. " Where were you born ? " A. " At Arderslow, in Yorkshire." Q. " Where lives thy wife ?" A. " She whom thou callest my wife lives in Wakefield." Q. " Why dost thou not live with her ? " A. " I did till I was called to the army." Q. "Under whose command didst thou serve in the army ? " A. " First under him they call Lord Fairfax." Q. ''Who then?" A. " Afterwards with that man called Colonel Lambert. And then I went into Scotland, where I was quartermaster ; and returned sick to my earthly habitation." Q. " What wentest thou for to Exeter ? " A. " I went to Launceston to see the Brethren." Q. " What estate hast thou ? " y antes Naylor, the QtiaJcer A. " I take no care for that." Q. " Wherefore earnest thou in such an unusual posture as two women leading thy horse ; others saying, ' Holy, holy, holy ! ' &c., with another before thee bareheaded, knee- deep in the highway mud, when thou mightest have gone on the causey ; and at such a time that, it raining, thy companions received the rain at their necks, and vented it at their hose and breeches ? " A. " It tended to my Father's praise and glory ; and I ought not to slight anything which the Spirit of the Lord moves." Q. " Wherefore didst thou call Marthy Symonds • Mother,' as George Fox affirms ? " A. " George Fox is a liar and a firebrand of hell ; for neither I, nor any with me, called her so." Q. " Thou hast a wife at this time ? " A. " A woman I have, who by the world is called my wife, and some children I have, which according to the flesh are mine." Martha Symonds' Examination. " She contendeth she knew James Naylor formerly, for he is now no more James Naylor, but refined to a more excellent substance ; and so she saith she came with him from Eccles to Bristol." Q. " What made thee lead his horse into Bristol, and cry, ' Holy, holy, holy ! ' and to spread thy garment before him ? " A. " I was forced thereto by the power of the Lord." Q. "■ Whether didst thou kneel before him ? " A. " I was forced thereto by the power of love." Q. " Dost thou own him to be the Prince of Peace?" 94 Yorlzshire Oddities and Incidents. A. " He is a perfect man ; and he that is a perfect man is the Prince of Peace." Q. " Hast thou a husband ? " A. " I have a man which thou callest my husband." Q. " What made thee leave him, and to follow James Naylor?" A. " It is our life to praise the Lord, and the Lord my strength is manifest in James Naylor." Q. " Oughtest thou to worship James Naylor upon thy knees?" A. " Yea, I ought so to do." Hannah Stranger, Thomas Stranger, and Timothy Wed- lock were next examined. It is not necessary to reproduce their interrogations ; it much resembles what has been given above. Dorcas Erbury was next called. She was widow of William Erbury, once a minister. Q. " Where dost thou live ? " A. "With Margaret Thomas." Q. " Wherefore dost thou sing, * Holy, holy, holy ' ? " A. " I did not at that time ; but those that sang did it discharging of their duty." Q. " Dost thou own him to be the Holy One of Israel ? " A. " I do, and with my blood will seal it." Q. " And dost thou own him for the Son of God ? " A. " He is the orily begotten son of God." Q. " Wherefore didst thou pull off his stockings, and lay thy clothes beneath his feet ? " A. " He is worthy of it, for he is the Holy One of Israel." (). " Christ raised those that had been dead ; so did not he ? " James Naylo7'y the Convict. 95 A. " He raised me." Q. " In what manner ? " A. " He laid his hand on my head after I had been dead two days, and said, ' Dorcas, arise ! ' and I arose, and live, as thou seest." Q. ''Where did he this?" A. " At the gaol in Exeter." Q. " What witness hast thou for this ? '* A. " My mother, who was present." Q. " His power being so much, wherefore opened he not the prison doors and escaped ? " A. " The doors shall open when the Lord's wish is done." The Bristol magistrates sent Naylor and his deluded fol- lowers to London, to be examined before Parliament. On the 31st October it was ordered that a Committee should be appointed to consider the information given touching " the misdemeanour and blasphemies of James Naylor and others at Bristol and elsewhere, and to report thereon." The Committee met next day, and on December 2nd it was resolved that the report of the Committee should be brought in and read on the lollowing Friday, December 5th. On that day it was read — it consisted of thirteen sheets of paper — by the reporter, and the debate on the report began on the 6th, when James Naylor was called to the bar of the House. He came with his hat on, but it was removed by the Serjeant. The report was read to him, and he was demanded whether each particular was true, and he acknowledged that it was so. The debate was adjourned to Monday, the Sth, and it gS Vor/csMre Oddities and Incidents. occupied Parliament till the 20th December. The House resolved "that James Naylor was guilty of horrid blas- phemy, and that he was a grand impostor and seducer of the people," and his sentence was, " that he should be set on the pillory, with his head in the pillory, in the Palace Yard, Westminster, during the space of two hours, on Thursday next, and be whipped by the hangman through the streets from Westminster to the Old Exchange, Lon- don ; and there, likewise, he should be set on the pillory, with his head in the pillory, for the space of two hours, between the hours of eleven and one, on Saturday next, in each place wearing a paper containing an inscription of his crimes ; and that at the Old Exchange his tongue should be bored through with a hot iron, and that he should be there also stigmatised in the forehead with the letter B ; and that he should afterwards be sent to Bristol, to be con- veyed into and through the city on horseback, with his face backwards, and there also should be whipped the next market-day after he came thither ; and that thence he should be committed to prison in Bridewell, London, and there be restrained from the society of all people, and there to labour hard till he should be released by Parliament ; and during that time he should be debarred the use of pen, ink, and paper, and should have no relief but what he earned by his daily labour." The women were ordered to be kept in confinement. The severity of this atrocious sentence deserves notice. The Independents, who had suffered under Laud and the Star Chamber, now that they were in power, had no idea of tolerating the Quakers, who read their Bibles differently from themselves. Cromwell was especially prejudiced against them, and it is probable that the Protector had yamcs Nay lor, the Qitalcer. 97 something to do with the severity of the sentence on Naylor. One Robert Rich, a merchant of London, wrote to the Parhament, on December 15, a petition in favour of Nay- lor: "If I may have liberty of those that sit in Parliament, I do here attend at this door, and am now ready out of the Scriptures of truth to show that not anything that James Naylor hath said or done is blasphemy, &c." Sentence was pronounced by the Speaker, Sir Thomas Widdrington. Naylor on hearing it said, " I pray God He may not lay it to your charge." On December 20th, 1656, Naylor suffered a part of his sentence, standing two hours in the pillory, and receiving at the cart's tail three hundred and ten stripes. " The executioner gave him three hundred and ten stripes," says Sewell, " and would have given him one more, as he confessed to the Sheriff, but his foot slipping, the stroke fell upon his own hand, which hurt him much. Naylor was hurt with the horses treading on his feet, whereon the prints of the nails were seen. His wounds were washed by R. Travers, who certi- fied, * there was not the space of a man's nail free from stripes and blood, from his shoulders near to his waist ; his right arm sorely striped ; his hands much hurt by the cords that they bled and were swelled : the blood and wounds of his back did very little appear at first sight, by reason of abundance of dirt that covered them, till it was washed off.' " Another petition in his favour was presented, signed by about a hundred persons, to Parliament, requesting the re- mission of the rest of his sentence, and as this was refused, appeal was made to Cromwell the Protector, with like want of success. H 98 Yorlishire Oddities and Incidents. Five Independent ministers visited Naylor in prison, and vainly urged him to recant. Rich besieged the doors of Parliament on December 27th, from eight o'clock till eleven, imploring a respite, but all in vain. Naylor was then brought out to undergo the rest of his sentence ; he was again pilloried, his tongue bored through, and his forehead branded. Rich held the hand of the unhappy man whilst his tongue was pierced, and the red-hot iron applied to his brow, and he licked the wounds to allay the pain. Thousands who witnessed the execution of the sentence exhibited their respect by removing their caps. There was no reviling, and nothing thrown at Naylor, but all stood silent and sympathetic. James Naylor was then sent to Bristol, and whipped from the middle of St. Thomas' Street to the middle of Broad Street, and taken back to his prison in Bridewell. There he wrote his recantation, in epistles addressed to the Quakers. In one of these he says : " Dear brethren, my heart is broken this day for the offence which I have occasioned to God's truth and people, and especially to you, who in dear love followed me, seeking me in faithful- ness to God, which I rejected, being bound wherein I could not come forth, till God's hand brought me, to whose love I now confess. And I beseech you forgive wherein I evil requited your love in that day. God knows my sorrow for it, since I see it, that ever I should offend that of God in any, or reject his counsel ; and I greatly fear further to offend or do amiss, whereby the innocent truth or people of God should suffer, or that I should disobey therein." He was confined about two years, and was then set at liberty. He thereupon went to Bristol, where in a public meeting he made confession of his offence and fall yamcs Nayloj'y the Qtialcer. 99 so movingly as to draw tears from most of those present \ and he was then restored to the community of the Quakers, from which he had been exchided by George Fox at Exeter for his presumption and pride. Charges of the most gross immorahty have been brought against James Naylor, whether truly or falsely who can now decide ? It is possible that the language of the women who followed him, in speaking of him, their letters to him, one of which has been quoted, may have given rise to these reports. Naylor, however, never would admit that there had been anything unseemly in his behaviour towards the women who followed him from London into Cornwall, and from Cornwall to Bristol ; and Sewell, who knew Hannah Stranger, repudiates the charge as utterly false. But it is curious to notice how that religious fanaticism and sen- suality so frequently run together. It was so in that out- burst of mysticism in the Middle Ages — the heresy of the Fraticelli ; it was so with at least one branch of the Hussites in Bohemia; and in the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- turies, when the great convulsion of the Reformation had set minds naturally predisposed to religious excitement in a ferment, this was most conspicuous, as in the ferocious licentiousness of John Bockleson, the Anabaptist King of Sion, or the more cautious profligacy, under a cloak of religion, of Ludwig Hetzer and David Joris. James Naylor quitted London finally in 1660, intending to return to Wakefield ; but was found by a countryman one evening in a field near Holm and King's Rippon, in Huntingdonshire, having been robbed and left bound. He was taken to Holm, and his clothes were changed. To those who kindly cared for him he said, " You have re- freshed my body ; the Lord refresh your souls." lOO Yoi'-Jcshire Oddities and Incidents, He shortly after died there of the rough handUng he had received from the highwaymen who had plundered him, and was buried in a Quaker's cemetery belonging to Thomas Parnel, a physician. Two hours before he died he uttered the touching and eloquent speech : — " There is a spirit which I feel that delights to endure all things, in hope to enjoy its own in the end. Its hope is to outlive all wrath and contention, and to weary out all exultation and cruelty, or whatever is of a nature contrary to itself. It sees to the end of all temptations. As it bears no evil in itself, so it conceives none in thoughts to any other. If it be betrayed, it bears it ; for its ground and spring are the mercies and forgive- ness of God. Its crown is meekness ; its life is everlasting love, unfeigned, and takes its kingdom with entreaty and not with contention, and keeps it by lowliness of mind. In God alone it can rejoice, though none else regard it or can own its life. It is conceived in sorrow, and brought forth without any to pity it ; nor doth it murmur at grief and oppression. It never rejoiceth but through sufferings ; for with the world's joy it is murdered. I found it alone, being forsaken ; I have fellowship therein with them who lived in dens and desolate places in the earth ; who through death obtained their resurrection, and eternal, holy life." A more beautiful and true description of the Christian spirit was never uttered. It is a passage meriting a place beside the famous definition of charity by S. Paul. The man who used such words was no hypocrite when he used them. If he had erred greatly, he had also repented ; if he had fallen, he had risen after his fall. One is glad to turn away the eye from the blemishes of the unfortunate Quaker's career to the spot of pure light that rests on his deathbed. y antes Nay lor, the Qitalccr. loi His writings were collected and published in an octavo volume in 1716. They are very unequal. Some passages of great beauty, almost comparable to that given above, may be found, but there is also much that is as involved in style and confused in thought as the specimen quoted earlier from his recantation. 102 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. " OLD THREE LAPS.** |T Laycock, two miles west of Keighley, at a farm called " The Worlds," lived a close-fisted yeoman named Sharp, at the end of last cen- tury and the beginning of this. He carried on a small weaving business in addition to his farm, and amassed a considerable sum of money. The story goes that on one occasion old Sharp brought a piece of cloth to the Keighley tailor and told him to make a coat for him out of it. The tailor on measuring the farmer pronounced the cloth to be insufficient to allow of tails to the coat, and asked what he was to do under the circumstances. " Tho' mun make it three laps," — i.e., any way. The expression stuck to him, and till the day of his death the name of *' Three Laps " adhered to him, when it passed to his still more eccentric son. This son, William Sharp, for awhile followed the trade of a weaver, but was more inclined to range the moors with his gun than stick to his loom ; and the evenings generally found him in the bar of the " Devonshire Inn " at Keighley, the landlord of which was a Mr. Morgan. Young Three Laps was fond of chaffing his boon companions. On one occasion he encountered a commercial traveller in the timber trade, and began his banter by asking him the price of a pair of mahogany " laithe " (barn) doors. The " Old Thi'ee Laps.'* T.03 traveller, prompted by Mr. Morgan, drew him out, and booked his order. After some weeks the invoice of mahogany barn-doors, price upwards of ^30, was forwarded to William Sharp. Young Three Laps was beside his wits with dismay, and had recourse to Mr. Morgan, and through his intervention the imaginary mahogany barn-doors were not sent. The barmaid of the " Devonshire " was a comely respectable young woman, the daughter of a neighbouring farmer named Smith. William Sharp fell desperately in love with the girl, proposed, and was accepted. The day for the wedding was fixed, and the young man went to Keighley Church at the appointed hour to be married. But the bride was not there. At the last moment a difficulty had arisen about the settlements. Mr. Smith could not induce Old Three Laps to bestow on his son sufficient money to support him in a married condition, and the two old men had quarrelled and torn up the settlements. The blow was more than the mind of William Sharp could bear. He returned to The Worlds sulky, went to bed, and never rose from it again. For forty-nine years he kept to his bed, and refused to speak to anyone. He was just thirty years old when he thus isolated himself from society and active life, and he died in his bed at the age of seventy-nine, on March 3rd, 1856. The room he occupied measured nine feet long and was about the same breadth. The floor was covered with stone flags, and was generally damp. In one corner was a fire- place which could be used only when the wind blew from one or two points of the compass ; the window was perma- nently fastened, and where some of the squares had been broken, was carefully patched with wood. At the time of I04 Yorlcshire Oddities and Incidents. his death, this window had not been opened for thirty-eight years. The sole furniture comprised an antique clock, minus weight and pendulum, the hands and face covered with a network of cobwebs ; a small round table of dark oak, and a plain unvarnished four-post bedstead, entirely without hangings. In this dreary cell, whose only inlet for fresh air during thirty-eight years was the door occasionally left open, did this strange being immure himself. He obstinately refused to speak to anyone, and if spoken to even by his attendants would not answer. All trace of in- telligence gradually faded away; the only faculties which remained in active exercise were those he shared with the beasts. His father by his will made provision for the temporal wants of his eccentric son, and so secured him a constant attendant. He ate his meals regularly when brought to him, and latterly in a very singular manner, for in process of time his legs became contracted and drawn towards his body, and when about to eat his food he used to roll himself over and take his meals in a kneeling posture. He was generally cleanly in his habits. During the whole period of his self-imposed confinement he never had any serious illness, the only case of indisposition those connected with him could remember being a slight loss of appetite, caused apparently by indigestion, for two or three days — and this, notwithstanding that he ate on an average as much as any farm labourer. He certainly, physically speaking, did credit to his food, for though arrived at the age of seventy-nine years, his flesh was firm, fair, and unwrinkled, save with fat, and he weighed about 240 lbs. He showed great repugnance to being seen, and whenever a stranger entered his den he immediately buried his head in the ''Old Three Lapsr 105 bed-clothes. About a week before his death his appetite began to fail ; his limbs became partially benumbed, so that he could not roll himself over to take his food in his accustomed posture. From this attack he seemed to rally, and no apprehensions were entertained that the attack would prove fatal, till the evening before his death. However, during the night he rapidly became worse, and expired at four a.m. on Monday, March 3rd, 1S56. Shortly before he expired he was heard to exclaim — " Poor Bill ! poor Bill ! poor Bill Sharp ! " —the most connected sentence he had been known to utter for forty- nine years. ' He was buried in Keighley Churchyard on the 7 th of March, amidst crowds who had come from all parts of the neighbourhood to witness the scene. The coffin excited considerable attention from its extraordinary shape, as his body could not be straightened, the muscles of the knees and thighs being contracted. It was an oak chest, two feet four inches in depth. The weight was so great that it required eight men with strong ropes to lower it into the grave. It was thought to weigh with its contents 480 lbs, A gentleman who visited Old Three Laps before his death has given the following account of what he saw : — " If you chance to go a-skating ' to th' Tarn,' and want a fine bracing walk, keep on the Sutton road about a mile, and you will come to an avenue of larch, not in a very thriving state, but sufficient to indicate that some one had an idea of the picturesque who planted the trees, although the house at the top of the avenue has not a very attractive appearance. You have now reached * World's End,' and save here and there a solitary farm, with its io6 Yo7'Jcs/n?^e Oddities and Incidents. cold stone buildings and treeless fields, there are few signs of life between you and the wide and boundless moors of Yorkshire and Lancashire. On the opposite hill, right up in the clouds, is 'Tewett Hall,' the residence of a Bradford Town Councillor. He alone, in this part, seems to follow Three Laps' ancestors' plan of planting, and in a few years we may expect to see a fine belt of timber on the verge of the horizon, a sight that will cheer the heart of some future Dr. Syntax when in search of the picturesque. At this place Three Laps ' took his bed,' and in a little parlour, with a northern light, the sill of which is level with the field, the floor cold and damp, and meanly furnished, it was my privilege to see Three Laps some twenty-five years ago. To gain admission we had some difficulty ; but with the assistance of the farmer, and a tin of tobacco to the nurse, who was an inveterate smoker, we were shown into his bedroom. As soon as he heard strangers, he pulled the bed-clothes over his head, which the nurse with considerable force removed, and uncovered his body, which was devoid of every vestige of body-linen, A more startling and sickening sight I never saw. Nebu- chadnezzar rushed into my mind. Three Laps covered his face with his hands, his fingers being like birds' claws, while, with his legs drawn under his body, he had the appearance of a huge beast. He had white hair, and a very handsome head, well set on a strong chest. His body and all about him was scrupulously clean, and his condition healthy, as his nurse proudly pointed out, digging her fist furiously into his ribs. He gave no signs of joy or pain, but lay like a mass of inanimate matter. It struck me at the time that his limbs were stiff; but a neighbour of his, ivho after his dinner stole a peep into his bedroom window, '' Old Three Lapsr 107 told me that he found him playing with his plate in the manner of a Chinese juggler, and with considerable ability. On my informant tapping the window, he vanished under the bed-clothes. " Such was the life of the strange man who for love of woman never left this obscure room for nearly half a century," The case of Old Three Laps is not unique. In the early part of this century there lived in the neigh- bourhood of Caen, in Normandy, a Juge de Paix, M. Hal- loin, a great lover of tranquillity and ease ; so much so, indeed, that, as bed is the article of furniture most adapted to repose, he rarely quitted it, but made his bed-chamber a hall of audience, in which he exercised his functions of magistrate, pronouncing sentence with his head resting on a pillow, and his body languidly extended on the softest of feather beds. However, his services were dispensed with, and he devoted the remaining six years of his life to still greater ease. Feeling his end approach, M, Halloin deter- mined on remaining constant to his principle, and showing to the world to what an extent he carried his passion for bed. Consequently, his last will contained a clause ex- pressing his desire to be buried at night, in his bed, com- fortably tucked in, with pillows and coverlets, as he had died. As no opposition was raised against the execution of this clause, a huge pit was sunk, and the defunct was lowered into his last resting-place without any alteration having been made in the position in which death had overtaken him. Boards were laid over the bed, that the falling earth might not disturb this imperturbable quietist. io8 Yorkshire Oddities a7id hicidents. CHRISTOPHER PIVETT. IHRISTOPHER PIVETT died at York, in 1796, at the advanced age of ninety-three years. He was by trade a carver and gilder, but in early life had served in the army, and been present in several battles — Fontenoy, Dettingen, and the siege of Carlisle. After he settled at York, his house was accidentally burnt down ; and he then formed the singular resolution never again to sleep in a bed, lest he should be burned to death whilst asleep, or not have sufficient time to remove his property, should an accident again occur. This resolution he strictly adhered to for the remaining forty years of his life. His practice was to repose upon the floor, or on two chairs, or sitting in a chair, but always dressed. During the whole period he dwelt alone he was his own cook, and seldom suffered anyone to enter the house. He would not tell anyone where he had been born or to whom he was related, and there can be little doubt that the name of Pivett was an assumed one. Among other singularities, he kept a human skull in his house, and strictly ordered that it should be buried with him. Ddvid Tur ton, Musician at H or bury, 109 DAVID TURTON", MUSICIAN AT HORBURY. AVID TURTON was born in Horbury, near Wakefield, a.d. 1768, and died August i8th, 1846. He was by trade a weaver of flannel, and his loom, which was in the upper room of the cottage in whicli he lived, might be heard by passers-by going diHgently from early morn to dewy eve. In this way he supplied his few earthly wants, for he was a man of a very simple and unob- trusive character ; and he did not change either his dress or his habits with the growing luxury of the times. In matter of diet he was frugal, and he always stuck to the old oat-cake and oatmeal porridge he had been accus- tomed to from childhood. " Avver bread and avver me-al porritch " was what he called them, for he spoke the broadest Yorkshire. Alas ! the delightful oat-cake, thin, crisp, is now a thing of the past in Horbury. There was an old woman made it, the last of a glorious race of avver bre-ad makers in Horbury, ten years ago. But she has gone the way of all flesh ; and the base descendants of the oat-cake crunchers, the little men of to-day, sustain their miserj,ble lives on bakers' wheat bread. David did not, as is the custom with Northeiners now, 1 1 o YorJcshire Oddities and Incidents. speak two languages — English and Yorkshire, according to the company in which they find themselves ; but on all occasions, and for all purposes, he adhered to that pecu- liarly racy and piquant tongue, both in pronunciation and phraseology, which was so well known to those who dwelt in the West Riding of Yorkshire half a century ago, and which still more or less prevails in that locality. Haifa century ago every village had its own peculiarity of intona- tion, its own specialities in words. A Horbury man could be distinguished from a man of Dewsbury, and a Thornhill man from one of Batley. The railways have blended, fused these peculiar dialects into one, and taken off the old peculiar edge of provincialism, so that now it is only to be found in its most pronounced and perfect development among the aged. The figure of David Turton was spare, his legs long and lean as clothes-line props. He wore drab breeches and white stockings, a long waistcoat of rather coarse black cloth, with a long coat of the same material, much the pattern of that now affected by our bishops. His features were small and sharp, his eye especially bright and full of life ; and having lost nearly all his teeth at a comparatively early age, his pointed chin and nose inclined much towards each other. Music was his great delight, and in that he spent all his spare time and money. He was a good singer, and could handle the violoncello creditably. All Handel's oratorios, besides many more of the works of the classical composers, he knew ofi" by heart, and he was for a long time the chief musical oracle in the neighbourhood in which he lived. He even aspired to be a composer, and published a volume of chants and psalm tunes. Several of the former, but David Ticrtou, Musician at Horbiiry. 1 1 1 few- of the latter, have survived. His chants have found their way into various collections of Anglican chants. I have heard them in King's College Chapel, and in more than one cathedral. But they have ceased to sound in his own parish church, where they have been displaced by Gregorians. Not one of his hymn tunes has found its way into the most popular collection of the day — " Hymns Ancient and Modern " — which is the more to be regretted, as Turton's tunes were often original, which is much more than can be said for some of the new tunes inserted in that collection. A considerable number of choristers in cathedral and parish church choirs owed all their musical skill to the careful training of old David Turton. His efficiency in music, together with the simple goodness of his character, made him a favourite among musical people in all grades of society, and there was seldom a gathering in the neighbourhood where any good class of music was performed in which his well-known figure was not to be seen. On one occasion he went to Hatfield Hall, then the resi- dence of Francis Maude, Esq., who was a great lover of music, and a friend and patron of old David. His own account of his dibilt on that occasion is suffi- ciently characteristic to be given : — " I went t'other day," said he, " to a gre-at meusic do at ou'd Mr. Maude's at "Atfield 'AH. Nah ! when I gattheare, a smart-looking chap o' a waiter telled me I was to goa into t' parlour ] soa I follows efter him doun a long passage till we commed to a big oppen place like, and then he oppens a doo-ar, and says to me, ' Cum in ! ' soa I walks in, and theare I seed t' place were right full o' quality 1 1 2 YorJcshire Oddities and Incidents, (gentlefolks), and Mr. Maude comes to me and says, ' Now, David, haw are ye ? ' ' Middlin',' says I, ' ihenk ye ! ' Soa then there comes a smart chap wi' a tray full of cups o' tea, and he says to me, ' Will ye hev sum ? ' ' Thenk ye,' says I, ' I'm none particular.' ' Why, then, help yer sen,' says he. Soa I taks a cup i' my hand ; and then, says he, * Weant ye hev sum sugar and cream.' * Aye, for sure,' says I ; soa I sugars and creams it, and then there cums another chap wi' a tray full of bre-ad and butter, and cakes like, and says he, ' Will ye hev sum?' 'I don't mind if I do,' says I. * Well, then,' says he, ' tak sum wi' thy fingers.' Soa I holds t' cup and t' sawcer i' one hand, and taks a piece of spice-cake i' t' other. ' Now, then,' thinks I, * how am I ever to sup my te-a ? I can't team (pour) it out into t' saucer, for boath my hands is fast ' But all at once I sees a plan o' doin' it. I thowt I could hold t' cake i' my mouth while I teamed (poured) t' te-a into t' sawcer, and then claps th' cup on a chair while I supped my tea. But, bless ye, t' cake war so varry short (crumbling) that it brake off i' my mouth, and tum'led onto t' floor, and I were in a bonny tak-ing. Howsomever, I clapt t' cup and t' sawcer onto t' chair, and kneeled me down on t' floor, and sammed (picked) it all up as weel as I could \ and then I sups up my tea as sharp as I could, and gave t' cup and t' sawcer to t' chap who cumed round again wi' his tray. * Will ye hev some more ? ' says he. * Noa,' says I, ' noa more, thenk ye.' For I thowt to mysen I had made maugrums (antics) enough, and all t' quality 'at war theare mun ha' thowt me a hawkard owd chap. Weel ! when tea were finish'd we gat to th' music, and then, I promise ye, I war all reet, an' a rare do we had on it." David was returning through a pasture one day in which David Turton, Musician at Ho7'-buiy. 113 was a furious bull, who seeing old David with his red bag, made at him. The musician did not fly ; that would not comport with his dignity, and his bass viol that he carried in the bag might be injured by a precipitate retreat over the hedge. The bull bellowed, and came on with lowered horns. "Steady!" soliloquised the musician; "I reckon that was double B nat'ral." Again the bull bellowed. "I am pretty sure it were B," said David again, "but I'll mak' sure ;" and opening his bag, he extracted the bass viol, set it down, and drawing his bow across the vibrating string, produced a sound as full of volume and of the same pitch as the tone of the infuriated beast. *' I thowt I were reet," said David, with a grim smile. At the sound of the bass viol the bull stood still, raised his head, and glowered at the extraordinary object before him. David, having his viol out, thought it a pity to bag it again without a tune, and began the violoncello part in one of Handel's choruses. It was too much for the bull j he was out-bellowed, and turned tail. When David was getting a little advanced in years he was coming home on a dark night from a musical gathering, and tumbling over a large stone which happened to be lying on the road, he fell down with great force and dislo- cated his hip. This was a sore trial to him in many ways. In the first place, it quite prevented his going on with his customary means of obtaining his living, and besides that, it deprived him of the pleasure ot going about among his musical friends. For a long weary time he was quite confined to his bed- I 114 Yorkshii'e Oddities and Incidents. and time hung heavy on his hands, for he had no other re- sources except his loom and his music. His constant companion in bed was his violoncello, and as he could not for a long time sit up sufificiently to enable him to use the bow, he spent a great part of the day in playing over pizzi- cato the music which he loved so well. After some time he got about a little on crutches, and ultimately was able to go by the help of a stick. His little savings had now dwindled away, and poverty began to look him in the face. But at this crisis his musical friends came forward, and gave with great success for his benefit the oratorio of the "Messiah," in the town of Wakefield, and by this means raised for him the liberal sum of jQ^o^ of which they begged his acceptance. He was afraid to have so large a sum in his own charge, and he therefore requested that it might be placed in the hands of the Vicar of Horbury, so that he might draw from time to time just as much as he needed. This was accord- ingly done, and by his careful expenditure of it, it sufficed to make him quite comfortable during the rest of his life, and to erect the simple memorial-stone which now stands over his grave in Horbury churchyard. He had a married sister living in London who had often invited him to pay her a visit, and when he had recovered from his accident sufficiently to go about pretty well by the aid of a stick, and having now plenty of time at his disposal, on account of his being lame and unable to work at his loom, he determined to embark on the railway to London. His sister lived in Kensington, and his own account of his visit, and of what he saw in the great city, was highly amusing : — *' I went up," said he, " on a Sctterday, and o' t' Sunday David Turion Musician at Horbiuy. 1 1 5 morn, while we was getting our breakfast, th' sister's hus- band says to me across t' table, * I reckon ye'll goa wi' us to chapel this forenoin,' for ye see they was chapel-folks. ' We'll see,' says I, ' efter a bit.' But I knew varry weel mysen what I were boun' to do, though I didn't say so to them. "Soa I just watches my opportunity, an' when they was all gone out of the room, I nips out, as sharp as a lark, and goas to t' end o' t' entry. Ftr t' sister's house war not to t' street, but up a bit on a entry like ; and away I goas till I sees a homnibus, and I calls out to t' fellow, ' I say, are ye for Sant Paul's ?' ' Aye,' says he. " 'Why then,' says I, 'Ye're t' chap for me!' Soa he oppens t' door, an' I jumps in. "'How much is it,' says I. 'Nobbut sixpence,' says he. Soa I rode all t' way thro' (from) Kensington to Sant Paul's — and ye know it's a rare way — all for sixpence. " Eh ! and bless ye ! we just hed a sarvice ! Think nobbut o' me goin to their ou'd chapel, wi' nowt but a bit on a poor snufflin' hymn or two, an' some squealin' bairns and women to sing 'em, and a ram'lin rantin' sarmon iver so long, when I had t' opportunity o' going to Sant Paul's to hear things done as they sud be done. Nay, nay!— I warn't sich a fooil as that nauther. I warn't born i' York- shire to know no better nor that, I'll uphou'd ye. " Howsomever, when I gat back hoame, they was into me weel for giving 'em t' slip, an' turnin' my back, as they said, on t' blessed Gospel invitin' of me. But I let 'era say what they'd a mind to. When a beer barrel begins to fiz out o' t' bung hoil, tha' mun let it fiz a bit, thof't mak a mucky slop, or it'll bust t' barrel. I said nowt; I just set 1 1 6 Yoi^lcshire Oddities and Incidents. and thowt o' what I'd heard, and I played it ower again on my in'ards. " T' next day I thowt I sud Uke to goa and hear t' band of t' Orse Guards. Now t' sister 'usband had a nephy 'at was one on 'em ; soa I went wi' him. And after they d played iver so mony things — ch ! an' bless ye, they just did play 'em — he says to t' leader o' t' band — ' Yon ow'd chap ' — meanin' me — ' knows a bit about meusic' Soa t' fellow says to me, ' Is there owt partickler ye'd like ?' * Nay,' says I, * owt 'at ye've got'll be reight for me.' " 'Nay,' says he, ' owt 'at ye've a mind to, ax for.' Soa I picks two or three things 'at just comes to my mind like. And, bless ye ! they played 'em like owt at all, and then I menshuned another or two, an' they were niver fast wi' owt till it was time for 'em to lap up. Soa they says, ' We mun goa now, but ye mun come agean another day !' 'I sail,' says I, ' ye may depend.' And I went reg'lar every day as long as I war i' London ; and rare pleased they war wi' me an' all, and so ye mind war T wi' them. " That, and Sant Paul's, an' Westminster Habbey, war t' main o' what I seed and heeard all t' time I war i' London." yohn Bartejidale, the Piper 117 JOHN BARTENDALE, THE PIPER. N the reign of King Charles I. a strolling musician, a poor piper, named John Bartendale, was brought, in 1634, before the Assizes, and was convicted of felony. He received sentence, and on March 27 th was hung on the gallows, outside Micklegate Bar, York. There were no houses there at that time — it was open country. After he had remained swinging for three-quarters of an hour, and was to all appearance dead, he was cut down, and buried near the place of execution. The officers of justice had accomplished their work carelessly in both particulars, as it afterwards transpired, for he had been neither properly hung nor properly buried. Earth has a peculiarly invigorating and restorative effect, as has been recently discovered ; and patients suffering from debility are by some medical men now-a-days placed in earth baths with the most salutary effects. In the case of gangrened wounds a little earth has been found effica- cious in promoting healthy action of the skin. John Bartendale was now to experience the advantages of an earth-bath. That same day, in the afternoon, a gentleman, one of the Vavasours of Hazlewood, was riding by, when he 1 1 8 J ^orlcshh'e Oddities and Incidents. observed the earth moving in a certain place. He ordered his servant to ahght; he himself descended from his horse; and together they threw off the mould, and discovered the unfortunate piper alive. He opened his eyes, sat up, and asked where he was, and how he came there. Mr. Vava- sour and his servant helped him out of his grave, and seated him on the side. The man was sent for water and other restoratives, and before long the news had spread about down Micklegate that the poor piper was come to life again. A swarm of wondering and sympathising people poured out to congratulate John the Piper on his resurrection, and to offer their assistance. A conveyance was obtained, and as soon as Bartendale was in a sufficient condition to be moved, he was placed in it, covered with Mr. Vavasour's cloak, — for he had been stripped by the executioner before he was laid in the earth — and was removed again to York Castle. It was rather hard that the poor fellow, after he had obtained his release, should have been returned to his prison ; but there was no help for it. The resurrection of the Piper was no secret ; otherwise Mr. Vavasour would doubtless have removed him privately to a place of security till he was recovered, and then have sent him into another part of the country. At the following Assizes, Bartendale was brought up again. It was a nice point at law whether the man could be sentenced to execution again after the Sheriff had signed his affidavit that the man had been hung till he was dead. Mr. Vavasour was naturally reluctant to supply the one link in the chain of evidence which established the identity of the prisoner with the Piper who had been hung and buried for felony ; he made earnest intercession that yoJm Bartendale, the Piper. 1 1 9 the poor fellow might be reprieved, popular sympathy was on his side, the judge was disposed to mercy, and Barten- dale was accorded a full and free pardon ; the judge remarking that the case was one in which the Almighty seemed to have interfered in mercy to frustrate the ends of human justice, and that therefore he was not disposed to reverse the decree of Providence according to the Piper a prolongation of his days on earth. Drunken Barnaby in his " Book of Travels " alludes to Bartendale, when he stops at York. " Here a piper apprehended, Was found guilty and suspended ; Being led to t' fatal gallows. Boys did cry, 'Where is thy bellows? Ever must thou cease thy tuning.' Answered he, ' For all your cunning, You may fail in your prediction.' Which did happen without fiction ; For cut down, and quick interred, Earth rejected what was buried ; Half alive or dead he rises, Got a pardon next Assizes, And in York continued blowing — • Yet a sense of goodness showing." After his wonderful deliverance the poor fellow turned hostler, and lived very honestly afterwards. When asked to describe his sensations on being hung, he said that when he was turned off, flashes of fire seemed to dart before his eyes, and were succeeded by darkness and a state of insensibility. 1 20 Yorlcshh'e Oddities and Incidents. — _,_ BLIND JACK OF KNARESBOROUGH * LIND JACK METCALF is certainly one of the most remarkable characters that Yorkshire has produced. Afflicted with loss of sight, the "■^ indomitable energy of his true north-country character enabled him to carry on a successful business where many a south countryman would have failed. He was born at Knaresborough on the 15th August, 171 7, and was the son of a labourer. At the age of six he was seized with smallpox, and on his recovery it was found that he had become totally blind. Children speedily accommodate themselves to circumstances. Jack in six months was able to find his way from his father's cottage along the street of Knaresborough and back home without a guide, and in the course of three years could go to any part of the little town alone, could find the shops, and execute errands for his father or mother. He began also to associate with other boys in bird-nesting expeditions, and would climb the trees and throw down the nests to his com- panions. By accompanying the boys in their rambles he learned his way about the neighbourhood, and was in a short time perfectly acquainted with all the lanes, woods, and fields within a radius of two or three miles. As his father * Chiefly from a Chapbook Life, written apparently shortly after his death. Published at present by Johnson, of Leeds. Blhid yacJc of Knareshorouoh, 121 kept horses, he learned to ride, and in time became an able horseman. He was taught the fiddle, as it was thought that the only means open to him for obtaining a subsistence was that of strolling musician. But Jack Metcalf had more natural taste for the cry of a hound or a harrier than for the squeak of his fiddle. A gentleman at Knaresborough, of the name of Wood- burn, was owner of a pack of hounds. This gentleman encouraged young Metcalf by taking him to hunt with hioi, and Blind Jack kept five hounds of his own. Mr. Wood- burn's hounds being seldom kennelled, Metcalf used to take several of them out secretly along with his own at night when the hares were out feeding in the fields ; but one of them having destroyed a couple of lambs, he got into trouble, and was obliged to discontinue his midnight excursions. When about fourteen years old, his activity of limb led him to imagine that he could undertake anything without danger, and with certainty of success. The following adventure, however, somewhat modified his opinion : — A large plum-tree in the neighbourhood of Knaresborough having attracted the attention of Metcalf's companions, they with one consent repaired to the place on a Sunday morn- ing. In these cases Metcalf was always appointed to ascend for the purpose of shaking the trees. Accordingly, he was sent to his post ; but his comrades being suddenly alarmed by the appearance of the owner of the tree, ran away, leaving Blind Jack up the tree. He, taking the alarm, dropped, and fell headlong into a gravel-pit belong- ing to Sir Henry Slingsby, cut his face, and lay for some time stunned in the pit. Shortly after this, he and some other boys, one night between eleven and twelve o'clock, assembled in the church 122 YorJishire Oddities and Incidents. porch at Knaresborough — that being the usual place of meeting. They determined to rob an orchard. Having accomplished this feat with success, they returned to the church-porch to divide their booty. Now it happened that the door of Knaresborough Church was opened by means of a ring, which turned the latch. One of the party took hold of it, and by way of bravado gave a loud rap, calling out, "A tankard of ale here!" A voice from within answered aloud, " You are at the wrong house ! " The boys were so scared that for a moment or two none spoke or moved. At length Metcalf said, " Did not you hear some- thing speak in the church ? " Upon this, without answer- ing, they all ran until they got out of the churchyard. They then held a consultation, all equally wondering at the voice, and equally unable to account satisfactorily for it. Like true Yorkshire boys, they were not, however, to be scared away without knowing what had frightened them ; and they stealthily returned to the porch. But no sooner had they reached it, than the ring turned, and the door began to open. This was too much even for their nerves, and they fled in all directions like wind. Only on reaching the outside of the churchyard wall did they venture to breathe freely and look back, and then, lo ! the whole of the interior of the church was alight — "... Glimmering thro' tlie groaniVig trees, Kirk Alloway seem'd in a bleeze." Uninspired, like Tam O'Shanter, with draughts of John Barleycorn, they did not venture nearer, but dispersed to their homes. The cause of this panic was as follows :— The remains of an old lady in the neighbourhood had been kept from interment until the arrival of her relations, who lived at a great distance. Immediately on their arrival the Blind yack of Knaresbo7'ouoh. 123 sexton was called up to dig the grave in the church, and had lighted a great number of candles. About the year 1731, when Metcalf was fourteen years old, he began to learn swimming in the river Nidd, and soon became so expert, that he surpassed all his com- panions. About this time two men were drowned in the eddies of the Nidd. Metcalf was sent to dive for the bodies, and after four attempts, succeeded in bringing up one of the corpses. The other body could not be found. There are frequent floods in the river Nidd, and in the deep places there are eddies, which draw to the bottom any substance, however light, that comes within their sphere of action. Large pieces of timber were often carried down by the floods ; these on coming over the deep places spun round, and then sank. Upon these occasions Metcalf would dive for them, and with the greatest ease fix ropes to the wood, which was then dravvnup by persons stationed on the banks. In the year 1732, one John Barker kept an inn at the west end of the High Bridge, Knaresborough. This man was a manufacturer of linen cloth, and used to bleach his own yarn. At one time, having brought two packs of yarn to the river to wash, a sudden flood, occasioned by a heavy rain in the neighbourhood, swept them away, and carried them through the arches of the bridge, which stands on a rock. A little below was a sheet of still water, supposed to be twenty-one feet in depth ; as soon as the yarn got to this it sank, except a little which caught the edge of the rock in going down. Metcalf being intimate with Barker, and calling at his house a few days after the accident, found him lamenting his loss. Metcalf told him that he hoped to recover the yarn, but Barker smiled at the sup- J 24 YorJcs/iire Oddities and Incidents, posed absurdity of the proposal ; finding, however, that his friend was resolved on trial, he consented. Metcalf then ordered some long cart-ropes to be procured, and fixing a hook at one end, the other being held by some persons on the High Bridge, he descended, and hooking as much of the yarn as he could at one time, gave orders for drawing up. In this way the whole was recovered with little damage. At Bilton, two miles from Knaresborough, was a rookery, where boys had made many attempts to take the young ones ; but the owner wishing to preserve them, they were prevented. Metcalf determined to make a trial ; sent one of his comrades in the day-time to reconnoitre the position of the nests ; and having received his information, they set out in the dead of night, and brought away seven dozen and a half, excepting the heads, which they left under the trees. The owner of the rooks finding the heads, offered a reward of two guineas for the discovery of the offenders j but the secret was kept until long afterwards. A person at Knaresborough having occasion to go to Borough-Bridge, which is about seven miles distant, and having left something behind, sent his son for it. Metcalf being about the same age as this boy, chose to accompany him When they got to the place the boy missed the key, which he had lost from his pocket by the way, and being afraid to return, he consulted Metcalf how they should proceed. Metcalf was for entering the house at all events, and not being able to procure a ladder, got a pole, which reached to the thatch, and having borrowed a rope and a stick, he climbed up the pole, and then ascending by the roof to the chimney, he placed the stick across, and fasten- ing the rope to it, attempted to descend, but finding the Blind Jaclc of Knaresbo7'ough. 125 flue too narrow, he threw off his clothes, and laying them on the ridge of the house, made a second attempt, and got down by the assistance of the rope ; he then opened the door for his companion. While they were in the house there was a heavy thunder-shower, to which Metcalf's clothes were exposed. He attempted to get up again to fetch them, but the pole by which he had ascended was now so wet that he could not climb by it ; he was therefore obliged to wait till it dried, when he succeeded in recover- ing his clothes. In the year 1732, Metcalf was invited to Harrogate to succeed as fiddler an old man of the name of Morrison, who had played there for seventy years. The old man died in the 102nd year of his age, and played in the year he died. Metcalf was well received by the nobility and gentry, who employed no other fiddler, except a boy, whom he hired as an assistant. Metcalf now bought a horse, and often ran him for small plates. He kept game-cocks, as he was devotedly fond of cock-fighting. He often hunted, and sometimes went coursing. In the evenings he played at the assem- blies. About this time there was a long room built at the Green Dragon at Harrogate. More music being then wanted, he engaged one Midgeley (one of the Leeds waits) and his son as assistants, Midgeley, senior, being a good per- former, was taken into partnership gratis, but the son and Metcalfs former assistant paid five pounds each as premium. In the year 1735, Francis Barlow, Esq., of Middlethorpe, near York, who kept a pack of hounds, was at Harrogate, and liking Metcalf, invited him to spend the winter at Middlethorpe, and bring his horse with him. The invita- 126 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. tion was gladly arcepted, and he went out with Mr. Barlow's hounds twice a week. Having completed a visit of six months at Middlethorpe, he had learnt to walk and ride very readily through most of the streets of York, and as he was riding past the George Inn, in Coney Street, Standish, the landlord, stopped him, calling out, "What haste?" Metcalf told him he was for Knares- borough that night ; the laiidlord replied that there was a gentleman in the house who wanted a guide to Harro- gate ; adding, " I know you can do that as well as anyone." — " So I can," said he, '' but you must not let him know that I am blind, for perhaps he will be afraid to trust me." — " I shall manage that," replied Standish. So going in, he informed the gentleman that he had procured a safe guide. Pleased at this, the gentleman requested Met- calf to come in and take a glass. This, for an obvious reason, the landlord objected to, on the part of Metcalf, but recommended some wine at the door. Metcalf started as soon as the wine was drunk, taking the lead, naturally enough. As they were turning Ousegate corner, a voice shouted out, "'Squire Barlow's Blind Huntsman!" But the gentleman had no suspicion that the cry had any reference to his guide. They rode briskly up Mickle- gate, through the Bar, turned the corner at Holgate, and through Poppleton Field, on to Hessay Moor, and so pro- ceeded forward, going over Skip Bridge. At this time the turnpike was not made between York and Harrogate. On the north-west of Kirk-Hammerton Moor the road to Knaresborough joined the main road which leads to Borough Bridge by a sudden turn to the left; but Metcalf cleared that without any difficulty. When they came to AUeiton-Maulevcrcr, the stranger asked whose large house Black yach of Knarcsbo^'oitgh. 127 that was on the right, and was immediately informed by Metcalf. A little farther on, the road is crossed by the one from Wetherby to Borough Bridge, and proceeds along by the high brick wall of Allerton Park. There was a road leading out of the park opposite to the gate upon the Knaresborough road, which Metcalf was afraid of missing, but the wind being from the east, and he perceiving a blast coming through the park gate, readily turned his horse to the opposite gate, which leads to Knaresborough, Reach- ing out his hand to open it, and feeling the heel, as it is called, he believed the gate had been changed in the hanging part, as he had not been there for seven months ; and backing his horse, exclaimed, " Confound thee ! thou always goes to the gate's heel, instead of the head ! " The gentleman observed to him that his horse seemed awkward, and that his own mare was good at coming up to a gate ; whereupon Metcalf permitted him to perform this office. Darkness, which had now come on, being no obstruction to him, he briskly led the way, resolved that his companion should not again see his face till they got to Harrogate. As they were going through Knaresborough the gentleman proposed a glass of wine, which Metcalf refused, alleging that the horses were hot, and that as they were near their journey's end, it was not worth their while to stop. Forward they went, and presently some one cried out, ** That's Blind Jack ! " This, however, was contradicted by another person, who could not clearly distinguish him ; and by this means the stranger was kept in the dark as effectually as his guide. They then proceeded over the High Bridge and up Forest Lane, and entered the forest about a mile from Knaresborough. They had now to pass along a narrow causeway which reached about one-third of the way 12 3 J ^orkshire Oddities and Incidents. to Harrogate, the forest at that time not being inclosed, and no turnpike being made. Metcalf still kept the lead. When they had gone a little way upon the forest the gentleman saw a light. He asked what place it was. There were some rocks called Hookston Crags, and near to these the ground was low and swampy in some places, close by which runs the Leeds road. About this part Will-o'-the-Wisp used to be commonly seen. Metcalf took it for granted that his companion had seen one of these lights, but for good reasons declined asking him where- abouts the light was ; and to divert his attention, asked him, " Do you not see two lights — one to the right, the other to the left ? " — " No," replied the gentleman, " I see but one — to the right." — " Well, then, sir," said Metcalf, " that is Harrogate." There were then many tracks, but Metcalf made choice of that nearest the fence. By the side of this path, which is very near Harrogate, some larches were planted, and stepping-stones laid for the convenience of foot-passengers. Metcalf got upon this stony path, and the gentleman's horse following, got one of his hind feet jammed between two of the stones. When his horse was freed, he asked, " Is there no other road ? " — "Yes," replied Metcalf, "there is another, but it's a mile about " ; knowing there was a dirty cart-way, but thinking the stony road preferable to the deep slough of the other, he preferred this rugged path. On reaching their journey's end, they stopped at the house called the Marquis of Granby, but found that the hostler was gone to bed. Metcalf being very well ac- quainted with the place, led both the horses into the stable, and the hostler soon after appearing, he delivered tJiem into his care, and went into the house to inquire after Blind yach of Knaresborough. 129 his fellovv-taveller, whom he found comfortably seated over a tankard of negus, in which he pledged his guide. Met- calf took the tankard the first time very nicely, but when attempting to take it the second time, he reached out his hand wide of the mark ; however, he soon found it, and drank, and going out again, left the landlord with his com- panion. " I think, landlord," said the gentleman, " my guide must have drunk a great deal of spirits since we came here." — " Why, my good sir, what makes you think so ? " — '* Well, I judge so from the appearance of his eyes." — " Eyes ! bless you, sir," rejoined the landlord, " do you not know that he is blind ? " — " What do you mean ? " — " I mean, sir, that he cannot see!" — "Blind! Are you in earnest ? " — " Yes, sir ; as blind as a stone I " — " Come, come, landlord," said the gentleman, " this is too much. Call him in." Metcalf entered. " My friend, are you really blind ? " — " Yes, sir ; I lost my sight when six years old." — " Had I known that, I would not have ventured with you for a hundred pounds." — " And I, sir," said Met- calf, " would not have lost my way for a thousand." Metcalf was rewarded by a present of two guineas, besides a plenti- ful entertainment the next day at the cost of this gentleman. In 1736, when the Harrogate season commenced, Met- calf resumed his musical occupation, and was well received at all the inns, where he was always given free quarters for himself and horse. The Green Dragon at that place was kept by a Mr. Body, who had two nephews with him ; and when the hunting season drew near its close, these, with some other young men, expressed a desire for a day's sport; and knowing that Mr. Woodburn, the master of the Knaresborough pack of hounds, had often lent them to Metcalf, they asked 1 30 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. Blind Jack to procure for them the pleasure of a run. Metcalf had no doubt but that Mr. Woodburn would grant him this favour, and went, flushed with hope, to Mr. Woodburn, requesting him to lend the pack the next day. This, however, was a favour out of his power to grant, as Mr. Woodburn politely informed him, as he had engaged to meet Mr. Trappes with the hounds next morning upon Scotton Moor, for the purpose of entering some young fox- hounds. Chagrined at this, Metcalf debated with himself whether the disappointment should fall to the lot of Mr. Woodburn's friends or his own, and resolved that it should not be to the latter. He arose the next morning before daybreak, and crossed the High Bridge. He took with him an excellent hound of his own, and nipping him by the ears, made him give mouth loudly, himself hallooing at the same time. This device had so good an effect that in a few minutes he had nine couples about him, as the hounds were kept by various people about the shambles," &c., and were suffered to lie unkennelled. Mounting his horse, away he rode with the dogs to Harrogate, where he met his friends, ready mounted and in high spirits. Some of them proposed going to Bilton wood, near Knares- borough, but this was opposed by Metcalf, who preferred the moor ; in fact, he was apprehensive of being followed by Mr. Woodburn, and wished accordingly to be at some distance from Knaresborough. Following his advice, they drew the moor at the distance of five miles, where they started a hare, killed her after a fine chase, and immediately put up another. Just at this moment up came Mr. Woodburn, foaming with anger, swearing terribly, and threatening to send Melcalf to the House of Correction. Blind Jack of Knaresborough. 131 He swung his whip round his head, intending to horse- whip the rogue, but Metcalf heard the whistle of the lash in the air, and escaped the stroke by making his horse start aside. Mr. Woodburn then endeavoured to call off his hounds, but Metcalf, knowing the fleetness of his own horse, ven- tured within speaking, but not within whipping distance of him, and begged that he would permit the dogs to finish the chase, alleging that it would spoil them to take them off, and that he was sure they would (as they actually did) kill in a very short time. Metcalf soon found that Mr. Woodburn's anger had begun to abate ; and going nearer to him, he pleaded in excuse a misunderstanding. The apology was accepted, for Mr. Woodburn, though hot of temper, was very good-natured j and so the afifair ended. Blind Jack became also very skilful at bowls, but he always bargained that he should count three to his adver- sary's one ; and he bribed the jacks to give him hints as to the direction he was to throw, by the inflexion of their voices, lowering their tones in speaking to one another if he flung too much to the right, raising them if he threw too wide on the left. But what is far more singular is, that he was able to dis- tinguish cards by their feel, and that by simply passing his fingers over their surface. By this means he was able to play whist and other games, and beat those opposed to him ; by this means realising a little money. These achievements were far from exhausting his ambi- tion. He aspired to the acquaintance of jockeys, and frequented the York races, where he betted, and was able to make books with men of rank and posilion, who took 132 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. an interest in Jack on account of his affliction and energy of character. He commonly rode to the race-ground amongst the crowd, and kept in memory both the winning and losing horses. Being much in the habit of visiting York in the winter time, a whim would often take him to call for his horse at bed-time, and set out for Knaresborough, regardless of the badness of the roads and weather, and of all remonstrance from his friends. About the year 1738, Metcalf having increased his stud, and being aware of the docility of that noble animal the horse, he so tutored his own that whenever he called them by their respective names they would immediately answer him by neighing. This was chiefly accomplished by some discipline at the time of feeding. He could, however, without the help of those responses, select his own horse out of any number. Having matched one of his horses to run three miles for a wager of some note, and the parties agreeing to ride each his own, they set up posts at certain distances in the forest, making a course of one mile ; having, of course, three miles to go. Great odds were laid against Metcalf, upon the supposition of his inability to keep the course. But Blind Jack was quite equal to the occasion. He pro- cured four dinner-bells, and placed a bell-man at each post. Each man rang in turn, and Metcalf was thus able to run from one post to the next, and know where to turn his horse. By this means he was able to win the race. A gentleman who was present, named Skelton, then came up, and proposed to Metcalf a small wager, that he could not gallop a horse of his 50 yards, and stop him within B 11:1(1 Jach of Knarcsboroitofi. 133 200. This horse was notorious as a runaway, and had baffled the efforts of the best and strongest riders to hold him. Metcalf agreed to the wager on condition that he might choose his ground ; but Skelton bargained that there should be neither hedge nor wall on the course, lest his horse should be injured. Metcalf agreed ; the stakes were deposited ; and knowing that there was a large bog near the Old Spa at Harrogate, he mounted at about a dis- tance of 150 yards from it. Having observed the wind, and placed a person who was to sing a song to guide him by the sound, he set off at a full gallop towards the bog, and soon fixed the horse saddle-deep in the mire. He then floundered through the dirt as well as he was able, till he gained a firm footing, when he demanded his wager, which was allotted him by general suffrage. It was with the greatest difficulty, however, that the horse could be extricated. That Metcalf was so well acquainted with the spot was owing to his having about three weeks before relieved a stranger who had got fast in it in the night, and whose cries had attracted him. It was now no unusual thing with him to buy horses with a view to selling them. Happening to meet with a man who had been huntsman to Sir John Kaye, and who had a horse to sell, Metcalf inquired the price of the horse, and asked to try it. Having trotted the horse a mile or two, he returned, and told the owner that the eyes of his nag would soon fail. The man, however, stood firm to his demand of 25 guineas for the horse, alleging that he was beautifully moulded, only six years old, and his action good. Metcalf then followed the man into the stable, and desired him to lay his hand upon the eyes of the horse, and feel their unusual heat ; asking, at the same time, how he could, in 1 34 Yorkshire Oddities ajid Incidents. conscience, demand so great a price for a horse that was going bUnd. The treaty ended '.vith Metcalf purchasing the horse, bridle, and saddle for ^14. A few days after, as he was riding on his new purchase, he ran against a sign-post upon the common, near a toy- shop, and nearly threw it down. Not discouraged by this, he set off for Ripon to play at an assembly ; and passing by a place at Harrogate called the World's- End, he over- took a man going the Ripon road : with him Metcalf laid a wager of sixpenny-worih of liquor that he would get first to an ale-house at some distance. The ground being rough, Metcalf s horse soon fell, and lay for a while on the thigh of his master, when, making an effort to rise, he cut Metcalf's face with one of his fore-shoes. The Rev. Mr. Richardson, coming up at this moment and expressing his concern for the accident, Metcalf told him that nothing had hurt him but the cowardice of his horse, who had " struck him whilst he was down." His instrument, however, suffered so materially, that he was obliged to borrow one to perform on for the night at Ripon, to which place he got without further accident. The assembly over, he set off to return to Harrogate, and arrived there about three in the morning. He now thought it was time to dispose of his fine horse, whose eyes began to discharge much. After applying the usual remedies of alum blown into the eyes, rowelling in different parts, &c., he found him in marketable condition ; and knowing that there would soon be a great show of horses without Micklegate Bar at York, he resolved to take the chance of that mart ; and setting out the night before, put up at the Swan, in Micklegate. The next morning, when the show began, Metcalf's nag attracted the notice of one Blind Jaclc of Knaresborough. 135 Carter, a very extensive dealer, who asking the price, was told twenty-two guineas. Carter then inquired if he was sound, and received for answer, " I have never known him LAME ; but I will trot him on this pavement, and if there be any ailment of that sort it will soon appear with my weight." The dealer bade him sixteen guineas, and a little after seventeen ; which Metcalf, for well-known reasons, was glad to receive. In the year 1738 Metcalf attained the age of twenty-one years and the height of six feet one inch and a-half, and was remarkably robust withal. About this time Dr. Chambers of Ripon had a well- made horse with which he used to hunt, but finding that he had become a great stumbler, he exchanged him with a dealer, who took him to Harrogate, and meeting with Metcalf told him he had an excellent hunter to sell at a low price. IMetcalf desired to try how the horse leaped, and the owner agreeing, he mounted him, and found that he could leap over any wall or fence the height of himself when saddled. The bargain was soon struck, and this happening at the Queen's Head Hotel, several gentlemen who were witnesses of the horde's performance invited Metcalf to accompany them two days after to Belmond Wood, where a pack of hounds were to throw off. These hounds were the joint property of Francis Trappes, Esq., and his brother, of Nidd, near Ripley. A pack superior to this was not to be found in the kingdom. The wished-for day arriving, Metcalf attended the gentle- men, and the hounds were not long in finding. The fox took away to Plumpton Rocks, but finding all secure there, he made for Stockeld Wood, and found matters in the same state as at Plumpton — he had then run aboutsix 136 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. miles : he came back and crossed the river Nidd near the old abbey, and went on the east side of Knaresborough to a place called Coney-Garths (where there were earths), near Scriven. Metcalfs horse carried him nobly, pulling hard, and he required proportionate resistance. The wind being high, Metcalf lost his hat, but would not stop to recover it 3 and coming to Thistle Hill, near Knares- borough, he resolved to cross the river at the Abbey Mill, having often before gone on foot over the dam-stones. When he got to the dam he attended to the noise of the fall as a guide, and ranging his horse in a line with the stones, dashed forward for some part of the way ; but the stones being slippery with a kind of moss, the horse stumbled, but recovered this and a second blunder; the third time, however, floundering completely, away went horse and rider into the dam. Metcalf had presence of mind to disengage his feet from the stirrups during the descent, but both the horse and himself were immersed over head in water. He then quitted his seat and made for the opposite side, the horse following him. Having secured his nag, he laid himself down on his back and held up his heels to let the water run out of his boots, which done, he quickly remounted and went up a narrow lane which leads to the road betwixt Knaresborough and Wetherby ; then through some lanes on the north-east side of Knaresborough, and crossing the Borough Bridge Road, he got to the Coney-Garths, where he found that the whipper-in only had arrived before him. Here the fox had earthed, as was expected ; and the other horsemen (who had gone over the Low Bridge and through the town) after some time came up. They were much surprised at finding Metcalf there, and attributed the Blind Jack of Knaresborough. 137 soaked condition of himself and horse to profuse sweating; nor were they undeceived till they reached Scriven. Soon after this, Blind Jack was at Scarborough. As he was walking one day on the sands with a friend, he resolved to take a swim in the sea, his companion agreeing to shout out when he should think he had gone far enough outward ; but the other not making a sufficient allowance for the noise of the sea, suffered him to go out of hearing before he shouted, and Metcalf continued swimming until he got out of sight of his friend, who now expected to see him no more. At length Metcalf began to think he must have got out of hearing of his friend, and becoming rather tired he turned on his back to rest himself, his ears being covered with water ; but after he had sufficiently rested he turned himself again, and removing the hair of his head from his ears, began to listen, when he thought he heard the breakers beating against the pier which defends the Spa 3 finding by the noise that he was at a great distance, he increased his efforts, and providentially taking a right direction, he landed in safety, to the immense relief of his friend. Having an aunt at Whitby, near the Alum Works, he went there, left his horse, and got on board an alum ship bound for London. He arrived at the metropolis, stayed there only a few weeks, played on the violin, and did very well; but meeting so many acquaintances, did not think himself safe. After some time, meeting with a vessel, he returned back again to Whitby; and having a numerous acquaintance at Newcastle, formed at Harrogate, he went thither, and was kindly received by many persons. Amongst the rest was one Councillor Grey, who invited Metcalf to dine with him every day during the time he 138 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. should stay, which was about a month. One day he said to Metcalf, " You and I are near a size," and brought down a suit of clothes, saying, " I think these will fit you, and are at your service if you please to accept them ; they have scarcely been worn ; go into the next room and try them on." Metcalf then left Newcastle and went to Sunderland", where he staid a short time among the sailors ; then proceeded to Whitby to his aunt's, with whom he had left his horse, as she was in tolerable circumstances ; after that he determined to go to Knaresborough, and set off in the forenoon, intending to call at Mr. Varley's, as he had been there for six months shortly before. He had company over the moor to Pickering, as he had never been that road. At Pickering his company left him. He then went to Malton, which was six miles, though he had never been that road before, but had been at Malton ; he got safe there, and continued along the York road. A little from Malton his horse began to tire at a place called Crombeck, where there is a ford dangerous in times of flood. It happened to be a very rainy time, and his horse being weak, he took hold of the bridle-rein to lead him through, not being afraid of the water himself, but fearful of drowning his horse. Having got safe through, he pursued his journey, but his horse being weak, he was under the necessity of leading him part of the road, and walking some- times up to the boot-tops in dirt. He soon came to a common called Stockton Moor, about four or five miles from York, where was neither turnpike nor paved causeway at that time, and he had got out of the track and was in great difiiculty ; but fortunately he heard a cock crow in Stockton, and by turning in the direction whence he heard the call of chanticleer, he got into Blind yack of Knaresborongh, 1 39 Stockton. From this place there was a paved causeway all the way to York, upon which he went, now feeling himself safe. He then came down Goodram Gate, crossed Peter Gate, down the Shambles, and through Pavement, over Ouse Bridge, turned into Skelder Gate, and through the Postern, it being in the dead of night, but he wanted no guide, as he knew the places so well ; then coming to Middlethorpe, the gates were fast : they were made of wood, with iron spikes at the top, which made it difficult to climb over ; but necessity being the mother of invention, he called forth her aid. Metcalf took the bridle from off his horse's head, doubled the rein, and throwing it over one of the spikes of the gate, by that means and the help of a corner of the wall that joined the gate, he got up and climbed over ; but when he was at the top his situation was perilous, for if his foot had slipped he would have fallen on the spikes and been impaled. He then opened the gates, and led his horse through, and greatly surprised some women by his appearance, who happened to be up washing. When daylight appeared, the family received him very kindly. He stayed about three weeks, and then returned to Knares- borough, where he met with a north countryman who played on the bagpipes and frequented the houses of many gentlemen in town. He had been in London several times, and he advised Metcalf to take a trip with him, which he did. By this man Metcalf found out several gentlefolks who were in the habit of visiting Harrogate during the season, and amongst others Colonel Liddell, who resided in King Street, Covent Garden, and who gave him a general invi- tation to his house. The colonel was member of Parliament for Berwick-upon-Tweed, and lived at Ravensworth Castle, 140 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. near Newcastle upon-Tyne ; and on his return from London to the North, which generally took place in the month of !May, he was accustomed to spend three weeks at Harrogate. When the winter was over, Metcalf thought he must take a walk out of London. Accordingly he set out through Kensington, Hammersmith, Colnbrook, Maidenhead, and Reading, in Berkshire ; and returned by Windsor and Hampton Court to London in the beginning of May. In his absence Colonel Liddell had sent to his lodgings to let him know that he was going to Harrogate, and that if agree- able to him he might go down either behind his coach or on the top. Metcalf on his return waited upon the colonel and thanked him, but declined his kind offer, observing that he could with great ease walk as far in a day as he would choose to travel in his coach. The next day at noon the colonel and his suite, consisting of sixteen servants on horse- back, set off, Metcalf starting about an hour before them. They were to go by the way of Bugden, and he proceeded as far as Barnet. A little way from Barnet the Bugden and St. Alban's roads part, and he had taken the latter; how- ever, he arrived at Welling, the place where they were to sleep, a little before the colonel, who was surprised at his performance. Metcalf set off again next morning before his friends, and coming to Biggleswade, found the road was crossed with water, there being no bridge at that time. He made a circuitous cast, but found no other way except a foot-path, which he was doubtful whether to trust. A per- son coming up, asked, "What road are you for?" He answered, " For Bugden." " You have had some liquor this morning, I suppose ? " said the stranger. " Yes," re- plied Metcalf, although he had tasted none that day. The stranger then bid him follow, and he would direct him into Blind yaclc of Knaresborough, j 4 1 the highway. Soon after, they came to some sluices with planks laid across, and Metcalf followed by the sound of his guide's feet ; then to a gate on one side of the turnpike, which being locked, he was told to climb over. Metcalf was struck Avith the kind attention of his conductor, and taking twopence from his pocket, said, " Here, good fellow, take that, and get thee a pint of beer " ; but the other declined it, saying he was welcome. Metcalf, however, pressing the reward upon him, was asked, "Can you see very well?" " Not remarkably well," he replied. " My friend," said the stranger, " I do not mean to lithe thee — I am rector of this parish; and so God bless )0U, and I wish you a good journey." Metcalf set forward with the parson's bene- diction, and stopped every night with the colonel. On coming to Wetherby, he arrived at the inn before him, as usual, and told the landlord of his approach, who asked him by what means he had become acquainted with that, and was informed by him how he had preceded the colonel the whole week, this being Saturday, and they had left town on Monday noon. The colonel arriving, ordered Metcalf into his room., and proposed halting till Monday, but Met- calf replied, " With your leave, sir, I shall go to Harrogate to-night, and meet you there on Monday." So he set off for Knaresborough that night, and met the colonel at Harrogate on Monday, as he had said. Metcalf became now in great request as a performer at Ripon assembly, which was resorted to by many families of distinction, such as Sir Walter Blacket of Newby ; Sir John Wray, Sir R. Graham, Squire Rhodes, Squire Aislaby of Studley, and many others. When he played alone, it was usual with him after the assembly to set off for Harrogate or Knaresborough ; but when he hadan assistant he remained 142 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. all night at Ripon to keep him company, his partner being afraid to ride in the dark. Finding himself worth £^\^ (a larger sum than he ever had before), and a main of cocks having been made in the neighbourhood, he became a party, and lost two- thirds of his whole fortune. The remaining ;£^ he laid out on a horse which was to run at York a few days later ; and had the good fortune to win the last wager. Metcalf still followed cock-fighting, cards, and racing, but continued to play at the assemblies ; but his profession interfered with his sports, and he cast about in his mind how to obtain an independence. Now it fell out that about this time a Miss Benson, daughter of the host of the Roya\ Oak, was about to be married to a young man whom Metcalf was convinced she did not like. It was a match made up by the parents, and there was no affection in it — at least on her side. Blind Jack had some reason to think that the fair lady was not insensible to him, and he hastened to Harrogate, and hung about the Royal Oak till he had an opportunity of speaking to the damsel, who was to be married the very next day. Metcalf used his most urgent persuasion with the girl to elope with him that night, and obtained from her a tardy consent. It was arranged that ,he should put a lighted candle in the window when ready to run away, and Metcalf engaged a friend to look out for the candle for him. This having been settled, the lady went into the house, and in a short time was followed by Metcalf, who was warmly received by the supposed bridegroom and company. The tankard went briskly round with " Success to the in- tended couple ! " in which toast, it may be readily believed, Mftcalf joined most cordially. Blind jfacJc of Knaresborougk. 143 Having stayed till it was near dark, he thought it time for putting business into proper train. Going then to the public-house known by the name of the World's End, he inquired for the hostler, whom he knew to be a steady fellow ; and after obtaining from this man a promise either to serve him in an affair of moment in which he v/as engaged, or keep the secret, he related the particulars of his assignation and the intended elopement, to forward which he desired him to let them have his master's mare, which he knew would carry two. This agreed on, he requested the further service of meeting him at Ross's Library at ten o'clock. A whistle was to be given by the first who got there, as a signal. They met pretty punc- tually, and Metcalf asked if he saw a star, meaning the lighted candle. After half-an-hour's delay the signal-light appeared. They then approached the house, and left the horses at a little distance, not choosing to venture into the court-yard, which was paved. On the door being opened by the lady, he asked her if she was ready, and she replied inthe affirmative. He advised her, however, to pack up a dress or two, as she probably might not see her mother again for some time. She had about twenty gowns at that time, and a new pillion and cloth. Metcalf asked her for it. " Oh, dear," said she, " it is in the other house ; but we must have it." She then went to the window, and called up her sister, who let her in. The pillion and cloth were in the room where the intended bridegroom slept, and on his seeing her enter, she said, " I will take this and brush it, that it may be ready in the morning." — " That's well thought on, my dear," said he. She then went down, and all three hastened to the horses. Metcalf mounted her behind his friend, then got upon his own horse, and away 1 44 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. they went. At that time it was not a matter of so much difficulty to get married as it is at present, and they had only the trouble of riding twelve miles, and a fee to pay, without any calling of banns requiring a delay of three weeks. Metcalf left his bride at a friend's house within five miles of Harrogate, and came to the Queen's Head to perform the usual service of playing his violin during the breakfast half-hour. In the meantime Mrs. Benson and her other daughter began to prepare for breakfast, and observing that Dolly lay very long in bed, her mother desired that she might be called ; but her usual bed-fellow declaring that she had not slept with her, she was ordered to seek her in some of the other rooms. This was done, but in vain. They then took it for granted that she had gone out early to take a morning ride with Mr. Dickenson (the intended bridegroom), but he could give no account of her. All her friends now began to be seriously alarmed, and a person from the Oak came and informed Metcalf of all that had happened there that morning. Metcalf listened seriously to the news, and then com- posedly said, "You need not be alarmed. I married HER since you saw me last night ! " He then sent a message through the brother of his Dolly to the father and mother, to the efiect that he asked their pardon. He acknowledged he was far below them in circumstances, but his affection for their daughter was sincere, and he promised that he would make them the best amends in his power by affectionate treatment of his wife. It is hardly to be supposed that they were molified by this assurance. Metcalf took a small house at Knaresborough. It was a Blind Jaclc of Knarcsboroiigh. 145 matter of wonder that Miss Benson should have preferred a blind man to Dickenson, she being as handsome a woman as any in the country. A lady having asked her why she had refused so many good offers for Blind Jack, she answered, "Because I could not be happy without him." And being more particularly questioned, she replied, " His actions are so singular, and his spirit so manly and enterprising, that I could not help liking him." Metcalf continued going to Harrogate as usual, and one day determined to pay a visit to his mother-in-law. He mounted his horse, and riding up to the kitchen-door called for a pint of wine. There were then only women in the house, who were afraid to serve him, and they all ran upstairs in a fright. He then rode into the kitchen, through the house, and out at the hall-door, no one molesting him. He afterwards went to demand his wife's clothes, but was refused ; on a second application, however, he succeeded. His wife having brought him a boy, and some respectable people being the sponsors, they employed their good offices to heal the breach between the families, and were fortunately successful. On the birth of a daughter (the second child) Mrs. Benson herself was godmother, and presented Metcalf with twenty guineas. He continued to play at Harrogate in the season ; and set up a four-wheel chaise and a one-horse chair for public accommodation, there having been nothing of the kind there before. He kept these vehicles two summers, when the innkeepers, beginning to run their own, he gave them up, as he also did racing and hunting ; but still wanting employment, he bought horses, and went to the coast for fish, which he took to Leeds and Manchester ; and so L 146 YorlcsJiire Oddities and Incidents. indefatigable was he that he would frequently walk for two nights and a day with little or no rest ; for as a family was coming on he was as eager for business as he had been for diversion, keeping up his spirits, and blessed with good health. Going from Knaresborough to Leeds in a snowstorm, and crossing a brook, the ice gave way under one of his horses, and he was under the necessity of unloading to get him out ; but the horse as soon as free ran back to Knares- borough, leaving him with two panniers of fish and three other loaded horses in the midst of a snowstorm at night. After much difiiculty, however, he divided the weight amongst the others, and pursuing his journey, arrived at Leeds by break of day. Once passing through Halifax, he stopped at an inn called the Broad Stone. The landlord's son, and some others who frequented Harrogate, seeing Metcalf come in, and having often heard of his exploits, signified a wish to play at cards with him ; he agreed, and accordingly they sent for a pack, but before playing he asked to feel them over. The man of the house being his friend, he could depend upon his honour m preventing deception. They began to play, and Metcalf beat four of them in turn, playing only for liquor. Not satisfied with this, some of the company pro- posed playing for money, and when engaged at shilling whist, INIetcalf won 15s. The losing party then proposed to play double or quit, but Metcalf declined playing for more than halfa-guinea points; till at last, yielding to much impor- tunity, he got engaged for guineas, and, favoured by fortune, won ten, and a shilling for liquor each game, which com- pletely cleared the loser of his cash, who took up the cards and went out, but shortly returned with eight guineas more. Blind Jack of Knai'eshoroiLgh. 147 jNIetcalf s friend examined the cards to see if they were not marked, and finding all fair, they went on again, until those eight pieces followed the other ten. They then drank freely at Metcalfs cost, he being now in circumstances to treat. About ten o'clock at night he took his leave, saying he must be at Knaresborough iFx the morning, having sent his horses before. On his way he crossed the river ^Vharfe, about a mile below Poole ; the water being high, his horse swam, and he got safe home. Thus ended his pursuits as a fishmonger, the profit being small and his fatigue very con- siderable. From the period of his discontinuing the business of fishmonger INIetcalf continued to attend Harrogate as a player on the violin, in the long room, until the com- mencement of the rebellion in 1745. The alarm which took place was great; and loyalty to the House of Hanover, and preparations against the Jacobites, were general in the county of York. Amongst the many instances which mark this, none were more striking than the conduct of William Thornton of Thornville, near Knaresborough, for he determined to raise a company of soldiers at his own expense, and went to Knaresborough about the ist of October, 1745, where he sent for our blind hero to his inn, and asked him if he knew of any brave fellows who v/ere likely to make spirited sol- diers. Jack having satisfied his patron on this head, he was appointed assistant to a sergeant already procured, with orders to begin recruiting the next day. Such was their success that in two days only they enlisted 140 men at 5s. each, their allowance being is. per day; out of whom the captain drafted sixty-four, the number of privates he wanted. Soon after, he brought them to Thorn- J 48 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. villc, where he ordered every other day a fat ox to be killed for their entertainment, and gave them beer seven years old, expressing great pleasure at its being reserved for so good a purpose. He now began to sound the company as to their attach- ment to the cause and to himself. " My lads ! " said he, " you are going to form a part of a ring-fence to the finest estate in the world ! The king's army is on its march northward, and I have confidence that all of you are willing to join them." They replied, enthusiastic for the whole ox a day and the seven-year-old beer, " We will follow you to the world's end ! " All matters being adjusted, the company was drawn up, and amongst them Blind Jack cut no small figure, being near six feet two inches high, and, like his companions, dressed in blue and buff, with a large gold-laced hat. Jack played a march, and off the company moved for Boroughbridge to join General Wade's army, which was there. On reaching Newcastle, by order of General Wade they were united with Pulteney's regiment, which having suffered much in some late actions, was thought unduly weak. Captain Thornton gave orders for tents for his men and a marquee for himself. He pitched them on Newcastle Moor, and served out a pair of blankets to each tent. On the first night of their encampment the snow fell six inches. After stopping there for about a week, the General received intelligence of the motions of the Jacobite army and gave orders to march by break of day for Hexham in three columns, wishing to intercept it upon the west road, as their route seemed to be for England that way. The Blind Jack of Knaresborough, \ 49 tents were instantly struck, but the Swiss troops in the van not being willing to move at so early an hour, it was half- past ten before they left the ground, and the snow by that time was extremely deep. The troops were often three or four hours in marching a mile, the pioneers having to cut through some of the drifts, level some of the obstructions, and fill up several ditches, to make a passage for the artillery and baggage. About ten at night they arrived at Ovington, the pkce marked out for them, with straw to rest on ; but the ground was frozen so hard that but few of the tent-pins would enter in, and in those few tents which were pitched the men lay upon one another, greatly fatigued with their march, it having been fifteen hours from the time of their striking their tents till their arrival at this place, although the distance was only seven miles. The next day they reached Hexham, where they halted. On Monday night about ten o'clock the army was put in motion by a false alarm. After stopping there about three days, General Wade returned to Newcastle to catch the post-road leading to Yorkshire, and immediately began his march for Yorkshire by way of Pierse Bridge, Catterick, and Boroughbridge ; and continuing his route southward, encamped his men on Clifford Moor, where they halted a few days, and then moved to ground between Ferrybridge and Knottingley. The Scottish army had now penetrated southward as far as Derby ; but the General having heard that they had received a check from the Duke of Cumber- land, sent General Oglethorpe with 1000 horse towards Manchester, either to harass the enemy in their retreat, or to join the Duke's forces; and retired himself Avith the re- mainder, by Wakefield-Outwood and Leeds, to Newcastle. 1 50 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. In the meantime the Duke came up with the army of Prince Charles Edward at Chfton, on the borders of West- moreland. Lord George Murray occupied the town, and the Highlanders were fortified behind hedges and a ditch. The Duke coming upon the open moor after sunset, gave orders for 300 dragoons to dismount and advance to the brink of the ditch \ the rebels then fired upon them from behind the hedges ; they returned the fire, and fell a few paces back. The Highlanders, mistaking this for flight, rubhed over the ditch, but meeting a warmer reception than they expected, were glad to retreat, and continued their route to Penrith, and from thence to Carlisle, where they left part of their army. His Royal Highness thought it advisable to reduce this place ; and on its surrender he returned to London. General Wade continued his march for the North, dis- missing all the foreigners from his army ; and General Hawley, on coming from London to take the command, was joined by some regiments which had been withdrawn from Flanders. They marched to Edinburgh, and from thence to Falkirk, and pitched their tents on the north-east side of the town on the i6th of January; the Highland army being at Torwood, about midway between Falkirk and Stirling, and about three miles from the English camp, they could easily see each other's camp light. The English army lay all night on their arms in expectation of being attacked, but the van and picket-guards came in on the morning of the 17th, having observed no motions in the hostile camp which showed any signs of an attack, although they were as near as safety would permit. Soon after, the enemy were observed to move some of their flags from Torwood towards Stirling, which made the English suppose Blind Jack of Knareshorottgh. T ^ [ that they were retreating; but this motion was a feint to deceive them. However, upon this the soldiers were ordered to pile their arms and take some refreshment ; and although Lord Kilmarnock was in the army of Prince Charles Edward, General Hawley went to breakfast with Lady Kilmarnock at Callender House. The enemy in the meantime stole a march down a valley northward, un- perceived ; but just before the army discovered them, they were seen by a person, who ran into the camp exclaiming, " Gentlemen ! what are you about ? The Highlanders will be upon you ! " On which some of the officers said, "Seize that rascal j he is spreading a false alarm !" — "Will you believe your own eyes ? " said the man ; and at that moment the line of Highlanders was seen fringing the high ground on Falkirk Moor. It is unnecessary here to relate the details of the engage- ment of Falkirk, so graphically described by Sir Walter Scott in " Waverley," resulting in a momentary gleam of hope to the adherents of Prince Charles Edward, and in as brief a discouragement to the English. Captain Thornton lost twenty of his men, together with his lieutenant and ensign, who were taken prisoners. The captain was in a house when the English were surprised, and hearing the bag- pipes at the door, he ran up-stairs and hid in a room behind the door. One of the Highlanders ran in, looked round, but not seeing him, called out, " None of the rascals are here." The woman of the house having seen the captain go up-stairs, went to him soon after, and opening a closet door, entreated him to enter, which he did; she then brought a dresser and placed dishes, &c., upon it, which prevented all appearance of a door in that place ; and 152 YorJcshire Oddities and Incidents. fortunately there was no bed in the room. About ten minutes after he had been fixed in his new quarters a great number of people, consisting chiefly of Highland officers, amongst whom was Secretary Murray, took possession of the apartment, which being large, they proposed making use of for business during their stay. In the meantime Metcalf had escaped the Highlanders. Knowing that two of his master's horses had been left at a widow's house a short distance from the town, he made his way to the place with intent to secure them. This woman had in the morning expressed great seeming loyalty to King George; but when Metcalf returned in the evening, the wind had changed : she now extolled Prince Charles, and said, " The defeat of George's folk was a just judgment." Metcalf went into the stable and found the horses, saddled them, and was leading out the first, when he was surrounded by a few stragglers of the Highland army. " We must have that beast," said they ; but Metcalf refusing to give him up, they said one to another, " Shoot him !" On hearing two of them cock their pieces, he asked "What do you want with him?" — They answered that they wanted him for the Prince. — " If so, you must have him," replied he. They took him, and immediately went off. Metcalf then brought out the other, but as he was about to mount, the captain's coachman (whose name was Snowden), joined him, and Metcalf inquiring of him the fate of his master, was answered that he had not seen him for some time. This induced Metcalf to think that the worst had befallen him. They then thought it advisable to attempt falling in with the rear of the army, but beiore they had proceeded many yards their horse Blind Jack of Knaj^esborough. 153 sank up to the saddle-girths in a bog; however, being strong, and plunging out, they mounted again, and soon joined the army as they had wished; when, on making diligent inquiry after their captain, they were told that he was left behind. Snowden thereupon returned as far as he could with safety, but without gaining any intelligence, and IMetcalf walked on with the army. They arrived at Linlithgow, where they halted, and the next day marched to Edinburgh. There the mob and the lower orders of people were very free in their expressions, and some of the higher also spoke out warmly in favour of Prince Charles, making no secret of their wishes and hopes that " the King should have his own again," The next morning as many of Captain Thornton's men as had escaped being taken prisoners (about forty-eight in number) assembled ; and none of them knowing what had become of the Captain, they supposed him to have shared the fate of many other brave men who had fallen in the action. There was therefore no more ox and beer to sustain their loyalty. The disappearance also of two other officers and twenty of their men greatly dispirited them, and to this was added the suspension of their regular pay. This induced some of them to apply to Metcalf for a supply in order to carry them home ; but this he refused, in part, no doubt, because he had not the means of paying them. The headquarters of the army were now at Edinburgh, the staff being located in Holyrood Palace. The superior officers sent for Metcalf, thinking it singular that a person deprived of sight should enter into the army. One of the officers belonging to the dragoons who retreated from 154 YorksJiire Oddities and Incidents. Falkirk, speaking ironically of Thornton's men, asked Jack how he got off the field of battle. Metcalf answered, " I found it very easy to follow by the sound of the dragoon horses, they made such a clatter over the stones." This reply turned the laugh against the officer, who coloured with anger and shame. Colonel Cockayne then asked how he durst venture into the service, blind as he was. To which he replied " that had he possessed a pair of good eyes, he would never have come there to have risked the loss of them by gunpowder." Then making his obeisance, he withdrew. He now determined upon a journey to Falkirk in search of his captain j but this being attended with difficulty, he applied to a Knaresborough man who lived at Edinburgh, and was of the party of Prince Charles Edward, telling him that he wished to be a musician to the gallant young Prince, as he found it was all over with the English. The man informed him that they had a spy, an Irishman, going to the Prince, and that he might travel with him. This he agreed to do, and they started together ; but on coming up to the English out-sentries they were stopped. Metcalf inquired for the captain, and informed him of the real cause of his journey. By him he was kindly advised to lay aside his dangerous project ; but as he still persisted, he was allowed to proceed with the spy, and arrived at Lin- lithgow, where they stayed all night. They met with several women who had been plundering, and were then on their return to Edinburgh ; and the spy instructed them how to avoid the English sentries. Metcalf was very careful to examine the clothes they had got, making it appear he wanted to purchase some, thinking that by chance he might meet with some of his captain's, and so Blind Jaclz of Knaresdorough. 1 5 5 ascertain if he were dead. One of the women sent a token by Metcalf to her husband, who was Lord George Murray's cook. This woman's guide was a horse-dealer, who soon became acquainted with Metcalf, having fre- quented the fairs in Yorkshire, and at this time by some means had got introduced to the heads of both armies, and obtained a pass and orders from each to press horses. This man's fate was remarkable ; for going into Stirling, where the English army lay, he found that orders were given to let no strangers pass without an examination. He said that he had a protection from General Huske. Being ordered to produce it, he had the misfortune to take that out of his pocket which he had got from the Pretender ; and when informed of his mistake instantly produced the other. But too late ! for he was tied up by the neck to a lamp-post and hung. A short time before Metcalf and the spy left the exchange at Linlithgow, some of the vanguard of the rebels came in and called for whiskey ; and it was supposed that they dropped there a silver-mounted pistol, which on their setting out the spy picked up and offered to Metcalf. He refused it, saying he thought it not advisable to have fire-arms about him, as he expected to be searched. So they pursued their journey, and presently fell in with the rebel out-guard, several of whom accosted Metcalf, and as all seemed well, they were allowed to pass, and arrived at Falkirk, where Metcalf inquired for Lord George Murray's cook, to deliver his present, and was afterwards introduced to and conversed with Lord George Murray, Secretary Murray, and other gentlemen. Lord George Murray gave him part of a glass of wine, an article at that time of great value, for as the rebels had been there three times, 156 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. and the English twice, they had almost swept the cup- board clean of crumbs. Whilst conversing with them he was very cautious, knowing that his life was in danger if the real purpose of his journey became known. He then made his way towards the market-place, where a number of Highlanders were assembled. This was on Wednesday, the 22nd; but it happened that his master had left the place that morning, about four hours before his arrival. We must now return to Captain Thornton, whom we left on Friday in the closet, in close neighbourhood to the Highland chiefs, who every day transacted business in the room. The quartermasters of the Jacobite army having taken the house, and given the woman to whom it belonged a small apartment at the back, it made Captain Thornton's position very critical ; but every night she took care to carry him such provisions as she could convey through a crevice at the bottom of the door, and this she did for fear of alarming those who slept in the adjoining rooms. The closet was only a yard and a half square, and the captain's clothes being wet when he entered, made his situation the more uncomfortable, as he had got a severe cold, and sometimes could not forbear coughing even when the rebels were in the room. Once in particular, hearing a cough, they said one to another, "What is that?" But one of them answered that it was somebody in another room, not in the least suspecting that one of their enemies lay hid so near. On Monday night the woman of the house went to the door to carry provisions as usual, when the captain said to her, " I am determined to come out, let the consequence Blind yack of Knaresboi'ough. 157 be what it may ; for I will not die like a dog in this hole." But she begged that he would bear his confinement until the next night, and she would adopt some plan to effect his escape. She accordingly consulted an old carpenter who was true to the Hanoverian cause, and he came the fol- lowing night when the room was vacant, removed the dresser, and liberated the captain. They proceeded down- stairs in the dark to the woman's apartment, where she made tea whilst the carpenter and captain concerted their plan of operation. They dressed him in a plaid and brogues, and put on him a black wig. The captain had only ten guineas about him (having left his cash with his lieutenant, Mr. Crofts), eight of which he gave to the woman who had so faithfully preserved him, and two to the carpenter ; who, to secrete them, put them into his mouth along with his tobacco, fearful of a search by the Highlanders, who would have suspected him had they found more than a shilling. Everything being ready, they set out, the captain, with a bag of tools, following his supposed master. On coming into the crowd, the old carpenter looked about and was rather dismayed, for although in disguise, the captain did not look like a common workman. This made the old man dread discovery, so he called out to him : " Come alang, ye filthy loon; ye have had half a bannack and a mutchkin of drink in your wame : we shall be o'er late for our day's wark." Whether this artifice served him or not is uncertain; but they got safe through the throng, and leaving the high road, pursued their journey across the country. Having come to a rising ground, the captain took a view of Falkirk Moor, and said, "Vender's the place where such a sad piece of work was made last Friday." The old man at the same time looking the other 158 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. way saw about 300 Highlanders, who had been on plunder, coming down a lane which led from Callander House (Lord Kilmarnock's seat) into the main road ; and being desirous of passing the end of this lane before they came up, in order to avoid them, said, " We shall have a worse piece of wark of it than we had on Friday if ye do not hasten your pace," and begged the captain to come forward, which he did ; but walking briskly up a hill, he suddenly stopped, and said, " I am very sick." However, they gained their point, and passed the Highlanders ; for had they come up with them, the captain's speech or appearance might have led to suspicion, and he would have been shot or led back to Falkirk as a prisoner. On going two miles further, they arrived at a house belonging to a friend of the carpenter's, and which had been plundered. There the old man got an egg, but not being able to find a pan to boil it in, he roasted it in peat ashes, and gave it to the captain to put in his wame or stomach. Proceeding a few miles farther, they arrived at another house, where they procured a horse for the captain. He arrived at the English outposts, and making himself known, was permitted to pass, and reached Edinburgh in safety. To return to Metcalf, whom we left at Falkirk, and whose dress was a plaid waistcoat laced with gold, which he had borrowed of a friend at Edinburgh, together with a blue regimental coat faced with buff. Jack told the High- landers, in answer to their inquiries, that he had been fiddling for the English officers, and that they had given him that coat, which had belonged to a man who was killed ; and also that his intention was to serve in the same capacity with Prince Charles. But a person coming up who had seen Jack at Harrogate, said, "That fellow Blind yack of Knaresdoroiigh, 159 ought to be taken up, for there is something more than common in his proceedings ; " on which Metcalf was taken to the guard-room and searched for letters, but none were found, he having only a pack of cards in his pocket, which they split, to see if they contained any writing in the folds. Finding nothing, he was put into a loft in the roof of the building, along with a dragoon and some other prisoners, and there for three days they were suflered to remain in confinement, exposed to severe cold. Metcalf and his fellow-prisoners were brought out at the end of this time, and tried by a court-martial. Metcalf was acquitted, and had permission given to go to the Prince ; but as he asked to borrow a clean shirt they inquired where his own was. He said at Linlithgow, but that he durst not go there on account of George's fellows. They then informed him he might safely go there along with the Irish spy. He knew that his companion had letters for the Highlanders' friends at Edinburgh, but had no intention to pass the English sentries. Metcalf therefore amused him with assurances that he had £10 at Edinburgh, for which he should have no occasion if he joined the Prince, and that he would give his friend a share of it. The spy on hearing this became very desirous of his company to Edinburgh, wishing to finger the money, and proposed going across the country ; but Metcalf said he could pass the English sentries by saying he was going to Captain Thornton. They then proceeded, and after going two miles they met an officer who was reconnoitring, and he, knowing Metcalf, told him that his master was arrived safely at Edinburgh. On leaving the officer the spy accosted him with, " So, then, you are going to him." " No ! " said Jack, " nor to any such fellows." They then passed the sentry, as i6o Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. Metcalf proposed, and arrived at Edinburgh, where they parted, but promised to meet the next evening at nine o'clock. Jack went directly to his captain, who rejoiced at so unexpected a meeting. Metcalf told him that he had given him a great deal of trouble, adding that he thought people might come home from market without being fetched. The captain smiled and said, " What is to be done, for I have neither money nor clothes, having left all behind at Falkirk ; but I have bills upon the road to the amount of ;!{^3oo?" This proved fortunate ; for had they been a few days sooner, these also might have been lost. The reason of the delay was that all letters directed to Scotland were at this time sent to London, to be examined at the General Post-Office. Metcalf told the captain that he could get him some money, but this the other thought impossible. How- ever, he went to a friend and obtained ;^3o. Tailors were immediately set to work, and next morning the captain was enabled to visit his brother officers at Holyrood. The army remained quartered at Edinburgh, while part of the rebels were in Falkirk, and another part at Stirling, where they raised several batteries, and besieged Stirling Castle. The Duke of Cumberland arrived at Edinburgh on the 30th of January, 1746 ; and two days afterwards marched at the head of the army towards Falkirk, Prince Charles' army leaving it a little time before. Captain Thornton visited the Duke often, and his Royal Highness took particular notice of Metcalf, speaking to him several times on the march. On the arrival of the army at Linlithgow, intelligence was received that the rebels were marching towards them to give them battle ; upon which the army was drawn up in order, and the Duke rode through the Blind yack of Knaresborotigh. 1 6 1 lines, and addressed the men as follows : — " If there be any who think themselves in a bad cause, or are afraid to engage the enemy, thinking they may fight against any of their relations, let them now turn out, receive pardon, and go about their business without any further question." On the conclusion of this speech, the whole army gave three hearty cheers. But the intelligence proving false, they proceeded to Falkirk, and continued their journey to Stirling, Perth, Montrose, Brechin, and Aberdeen, where they halted. The army of the Prince was encamped at Strathbogie. At Aberdeen the Duke gave a ball to the ladies, and personally solicited Captain Thornton for his fiddler, there being at that time no music in the army except Colonel Howard's (the Old Buffs), which was wind music, and the performers, who were Germans, were unaccustomed to country dances. As the Prince's army was only twenty miles distant, no invitations were sent until five o'clock, though the ball was to begin at six. Twenty-five couples danced for eight hours, and his Royal Highness made one of the party, and several times as he passed Metcalf, who stood on a chair to play, shouted " Thornton, play up ! " But Jack needed no exhortation, for he was well practised and better inclined. Next morning the Duke sent him two guineas; but as he was not permitted to take money, he informed his captain, who said, as it was the Duke's money, he might take it, but observed that he should give his Royal Highness's servants a treat (he had only three servants with him — viz., his gentleman, cook, and groom). So the next night two of them paid Metcalf a visit, and a merry party they made, the captain ordering them plenty of refreshments. 1 62 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. In a little time they proceeded on their march, and engaged the gallant army of the Prince on Culloden Moor. The battle ended in the total rout of the army of the young " Pretender," and the massacre of his soldiers by the Butcher Duke. The English prisoners were all liberated. Three of Captain Thornton's men had died in prison ; the rest returned home. The rebellion having been completely suppressed and peace restored, Captain Thornton returned home, accom- panied by Metcalf, who had the happiness to find his faithful partner and children in good health. Blind Jack being now at liberty to choose his occupation, attended Harrogate as usual ; but having in the course of his Scotch expedition kept his eyes open (if we may use such an expression of a blind man), he had become acquainted with various articles manufactured in that country, and judging that some of them might find a market in England, he repaired in the spring to Scotland, and supplied himself with various articles in cotton and worsted, especially Aber- deen stockings. For all these articles he found a ready sale at the houses of gentlemen in the county of York ; and being personally known to most of the families, was everywhere kindly received. He was never at a loss to know among one thousand articles what each had cost him, as he had a method of marking them which enabled him to distinguish them by the feel. It was also customary with him to buy horses for sale in Scotland, bringing back galloways in return. He was an admirable judge of horses by running his hands over them. He also engaged pretty deeply in contraband trade, the Blind Jack of Knareshorough. i6 o profits of which at that time were so considerable as to make it worth while running the risk. Once, having received a pressing letter from Newcastle-upon-Tyne requiring his speedy attendance, he set out on horseback from Knares- borough at three in the morning, and got into Newcastle the same evening about six o'clock, a distance of nearly seventy-four miles, and did not feel fatigued. Having received some packages, he employed a few soldiers to convey them to a carrier, judging that men of their description were least liable to suspicion. After sending off his goods, he staid two nights with some relations, and then set out for home. He had with him about a hundred- weight of tea, cased over with tow, and tightly corded up ; this he put into a wallet, which he laid across the saddle. Coming to Chester-le -Street (about half-way between Newcastle and Durham), he met at the inn an exciseman, who knew him as soon as he had dismounted, and asked him what he had got there. Metcalf answered, " It is some tow and line for my aunt, who lives a few miles distant. I wish she was far enough, for giving me the trouble to fetch it." The officer said to him, " Bring it in " ; he replied, " I am only here for a few minutes ; it may as well remain on the horsing-stone." By this seeming indifference about his packet he removed suspicion from the mind of the exciseman, who assisted in replacing it across the saddle. Once having disposed of a string of horses, he bought with the produce a quantity of rum, brandy, and tea, to the amount of/^200, put them on board a vessel for Leith, and travelled overland on foot to meet the vessel at that port. He had about thirty ciiles to walk, and carried near 1 64 Yo7'ksJiire Oddities and Incidents, five stone weight of goods, which he did not choose to put on shipboard. At Leith he had the mortification to wait six weeks without receiving any tidings of the vessel, which many supposed to have been lost, there having been a storm in the interval. The distress of mind resulting from this induced him to say, " If she is lost I wish I had been in her, for she had all my property on board." Soon after, however, the ship got into Leith harbour. He then went on board, and set sail for Newcastle; but another storm arising, the mate was washed overboard, the main-sail carried away, and the ship driven near the coast of Norway, Despair now became general, the prospect of going to the bottom seemed almost certain. Metcalf had now no wish to go to the bottom witJi his property, and vowed he would give all his fortune to touch dry earth again. But the wind changing, hope began to return, and the captain put about for the Scotch coast, intending to make Aberbrothock, A signal of distress was put up, but the sea ran so high that no boat could venture out with a pilot. He then stood in for the harbour, but struck against the pier-end, owing to the unmanageable state of the vessel from the loss of her main-sail; she narrowly escaped being bulged, but having got to the back of the pier, was towed round into the harbour with nearly five feet of water in her hold. As the vessel stood in need of repairs, Metcalf put his goods on board another, and went in her to Newcastle. There he met with an acquaintance, and thinking the fellow trustworthy, over his cups informed him that he had got 400 gallons of gin and brandy for which he had a permit, and about thirty gallons for which he had none, and which he wanted to land. In a quarter of an hour he found that the man whom he had taken for a friend Blind Jack of Knaresborough. 165 had gone down the quayside and given information of what he knew, and all the goods were seized and brought on shore. Metcalf imagined that none were seizable but the small part for which he had not obtained a permit ; but was soon undeceived, the whole being liable to seizure as not agreeing with the specified quantity. He then repaired to the Custom-house and applied to Mr. Sunderland, the collector. This gentleman knew Metcalf, whom he had seen at Harrogate ; he received him very kindly, but informed him that it was not in his power to serve him, the captors being the Excise people, and not of his department. He, however, suggested that some good might result from an application to Alderman Pelreth, with whom Metcalf was acquainted, and who was intimate with the collector of the Excise. The alderman gave him a letter to the collector, representing that the bearer had bought 400 gallons of spirits at the Custom-house at Aberdeen, and that the extra quantity was for the purpose of treating the sailors and other friends, as well as for sea-stock for himself. At first the collector told him that nothing could be done for him until he should write up to the Board, and receive an answer; but Metcalf remon- strating on the inconvenience of the delay, and the other reconsidering the letter, he agreed to come down to the quay at four o'clock in the afternoon, which he accordingly did, and released everything without any expense. A short time after, the regiment called " The Queen's Bays" were raised; they were quartered at Knaresborougli and the adjacent towns ; but after a short stay they were ordered to the North. The country people seemed un- willing to supply carriages for the baggage , the King's allowance being but ninepence a mile per ton : that of the 1 66 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. county, one shilling in the West Riding, and fifteenpence in the North Riding. Metcalf having two waggons, was desirous to try this new business ; and to make sure of the job, got the soldiers to press his two carriages, which were accordingly loaded, and he attended them to Durham him- self. Previous to loading, however, the country people, who knew the advantage of carrying for the army, and who had kept back in hopes of an advance in the price, came forward with their waggons in opposition to Metcalf; but they were now too late — Metcalf had secured the job. On arriving at Durham, he met Bland's dragoons on their march from the North to York ; they loaded his waggons again for Northallerton, and would willingly have engaged them to York ; but this he was obliged to de- cline, having promised to bring twenty-three wool-packs to Knaresborough. He was just six days in performing this journey ; and cleared, with eight horses and the one he rode, as much as ;^2o. Some horses belonging to the Queen's Bays, stationed at Durham, were to be sold, and Metcalf, hearing of the sale, set off from Knaresborough only the day before, and arrived there in time. Amongst the horses to be sold was a grey one, belonging to one of the drums. The man who had the charge of him not having been sufficiently careful in trimming him, had burnt him severely, which caused a swelhng. Had his careless conduct been known to his superiors he would have been punished for it ; upon that account the matter was hushed up. Metcalf, however, having been apprised of the circumstances from a farrier- whom he had got to know, determined to purchase him, judging that the horse would be sold cheap. He was not mistaken Blind Jack of Knm'esborotigh. 1 6 7 He bought him for very little, and with a bit of care realised a good profit out of him shortly afterwards. In the year 1754 Metcalf commenced a new business. He set up a stage-coach between York and Knaresborough, and conducted it himself, twice a week in the summer season, and once in the winter ; and this business, together with the occasional conveyance of army baggage, employed him until his first contract for making roads, which suiting him better, he disposed of his draught and interest in the road. An Act of Parliament having been obtained to make a turnpike from Harrogate to Boroughbridge, a person of the name of Ostler, of Farnham, two miles from Knares- borough, was appointed surveyor. Metcalf being in company with him, agreed to make about three miles of it, between Minskip and Ferrensby. The materials were to be procured from one gravel-pit for the whole length. He therefore provided deal boards and erected a temporary house at the pit, took twelve horses to the place, fixed racks and mangers, and hired a house for his men at Minskip, distant about three-quarters of a mile. He often walked from Knaresborough in the morning, with four or five stone-weight of meat on his shoulders, and joined his men by six o'clock. By his attention and diligence he com- pleted the work much sooner than was expected, to the entire satisfaction of the surveyor and trustees. During his leisure hours he studied measurement in a way of his own, and when certain of the girth and length of any piece of timber, he was able to reduce its true contents to feet and inches, and would bring the dimen- sions of any building into yards and feet. About the time that this road was finished the building 1 68 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. of a bridge was advertised to be contracted for at Borough- bridge, and a number of gentlemen met there for that purpose at the Crown Inn. Metcalf, amongst others, went also. The masons varied considerably in their estimates. Ostler, the surveyor of the roads, was appointed to survey the bridge, and Metcalf told him that he wished to under- take it, though he had never done anything of the kind before. On this the surveyor acquainted the gentlemen with what Metcalf proposed ; when he was sent for and asked what he knew about a bridge. He told them that he could readily describe it, if they would take the trouble of writing down his plan, which was as follows : — " The span of the arch 18 feet, being a semicircle, makes 27 ; the arch-stones must be a foot deep, which, if multiplied by 27, will be 486 ; and the basis will be 72 feet more. For the arch, it "will require good backing ; for which purpose there are proper stones in the old Roman wall at Aldborough, which may be brought, if you please to give directions to that effect." The gentlemen were surprised at his readiness, and agreed with him for building the bridge. The persons who had given in their estimates were much offended ; and as the stone was to be procured from Renton, a sale quarry belonging to one of the masons who was there, he was unwilling to sell any to Metcalf; upon which he went to Farnham, and found good stones which the lime-burners had left (being too strong for their purpose), got them dressed at the place for a trifle, conveyed them to Borough- bridge, and having men to take them off the carts, set them, and completed the arch in one day. Soon after, there was a mile and a half of turnpike road to be made between Knaresborough Bridge and Harrogate, Blind yack of Knaresborough. 1 69 for which Metcalf also agreed. Going one day over a place covered with grass, he told his men that he thought it different from the ground adjoining, and would have them try for stone or gravel, which they immediately did, and found an old causeway, supposed to have been made in the time of the Romans, which afforded many materials for the new road. Between the forest lane-head and Knaresborough Bridge there was a bog in a low piece of ground. The surveyor thought it impossible to make a road over it, but Metcalf assured him he could accomplish it. The other then told him that if so he should be paid as if he had carried the road round the bog. Jack set about it, cast the road up, and covered it with whin and ling, and made it as good as any part he had under- taken. He received for his contract about ;^4oo. He afterwards contracted for making five miles of road be- tween Harrogate and Harewood Bridge, and received for it ;^i2oo. For a mile and a half through part of Chapel- town to Leeds, and for lengthening the arch of Sheepscar Bridge, he received ;^4oo. The following are some of his other contracts : — Four miles of the road between Skipton and Colne, and two miles on the Burnley Road. Two miles of the road through Broughton to Marton, and two miles more through Addingham and over part of Romalds Moor, for all which he received ;^i35o. Four miles between Mill Bridge and Halifax, and five miles between Wakefield and Chickingley Beck, near Dewsbury; and received for the same ;^i2oo. Three miles and a half between Hag Bridge and Pontefract, and one mile and a half on the Doncaster Road, from Crafton, through Foldby. For the road from Wakefield to Pontefract, Doncaster, and Halifax, he received ^,{^6400. 1 70 Yoi'kshire Oddities and Incidents. From Blackmoor foot to Marsden, and from thence to Standish foot ; also from Lupset Gate through Horbury ; and also three miles from Standish to Thurton Clough; from Sir John Kaye's seat to Huddersfield ; and thence to Longroyd Bridge toll-bar, in the course of which were several bridges, the whole distance about twenty-one miles, for which he received ^^4500. In the building of bridges, where the foundations were bad, he laid on a sufficient thickness of ling (where it could be got) otherwise straw ; he next laid planks five inches thick, with square mortices cut through, and driving in a number of piles, made the foundations secure. He then laid springs for the arches upon the planks, which caused all to settle regularly. And though he built many arches of different sizes, none ever fell. He also undertook to build houses, amongst which was one belonging to Mr. Marmaduke Hebden, near Huddersfield, nine yards wide, twenty-three long, and twenty-one feet from the foundation to the square of the building, with twenty chimneys. Metcalf having now made up his mind to follow building and road-making, finding it remunerative, con- tracted for and executed at various times the following roads : — Betwixt Chapel-le-Frith and Macclesfield, eight miles. Betwixt Huddersfield and Wakefield ten miles, for which he received ;C2c^o. From Huddersfield to High Moor, in the road to Manchester, including a bridge at Marsden of twelve yards span, in all about ten miles, for which he received ;^35oo. From Docklane-head to Ashton-under- Line, and part of the road from Ashton to Stockport, and part of the road from Stockport to Mortram-Longdale, about sixteen miles, for which he received ;;^32 0o. From Blind Jach of Knareshorough. 1 7 1 Randal-Calbred, in the road from Chapel-le-Frith to Macclesfield, including several bridges, for which he received ;^2ooo. From Congleton to the Eed Bull, on the edge of Staffordshire, including drains, arches, walls, &c., six miles, for which he received ;^35oo. For Sir George Warren, at Poynton, in Cheshire, about five miles of road in his own park, and draining a large quantity of land, for which he received ;^iooo. Four miles of road between Whaleyand Buxton, for which he received ;2^2 5oo. Two miles over the High Flat, near Pennystone, in the road betwixt Huddersfield and Sheffield, £,Z^^' For eight miles of road betwixt Huddersfield and Halifax, ^2700. From Bury to Blackburn, in Lancashire, and another branch from the said road to Accrington, the work of two summers, ;!^3Soo. For part of the road between Knareshorough and Wetherby, ;;^6oo. For that part of the road which leads through Ribstone and Kirk-Deighton, till it joins the great north road leading from Borough- bridge to Wetherby, and building two toll-houses, about About the year 1781 Metcalf, hearing how beneficial the cotton business was to all that were engaged in it, resolved to have a share in that also ; he accordingly purchased the necessary machinery, but the scheme failed, as a time came when no yarn could be sold without loss ; therefore he gave up that business. In 1789 he contracted for making several pieces of road in Lancashire, between Bury and Heslington, and another part from Heslington to Accring- ton ; and also a branch from that to Blackburn, the work of two summers, for which he received ;^35oo. In 1791 he returned into Yorkshire, and began to speculate in buying and selling hay, measuring the stacks with his arms, 1 7 2 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents, and having learnt the height, he could soon tell the number of square yards contained in the whole. At Christmas, 1794, he revisited Thorn ville Royal, where he had spent so many visits in his young days ; he then went to Middlethorpe, where he was kindly received by the squire, Mr. Barlow. Having gone to York in the first days of 1795, ^^ set out on January 9th to walk to Green-Hammerton, on his way to Thornville Royal, and accomplished the distance, which was ten miles, in three hours and a half. He slept that night at Thornville Royal, and next day walked to Knaresborough, January loth, the birthday of Sir Thomas Slings by's eldest son, which was kept with great rejoicings. Thence he went to Spofforth, where he resided with his daughter, after the death of his wife in 1778. There he died on the 27th April, 1810, in the full possession of his faculties, aged ninety-three. He was buried in Spofforth churchyard. At the time of his death his descendants were four children, twenty grandchildren, and ninety great and great- great grandchildren. ''^Peg Pennyworik." ^1Z *' PEG PENNYWORTH." ARGARET WHARTON, an unmarried lady of great wealth and ancient family, was one of the Yorkshire oddities of last century. She belonged to the family of the Whartons of Skelton Castle, in Cleveland, and possessed a fortune of ^200,000, of which, with rare liberality, she made her nephew a present of /^ 100,000. Her charities were liberal, but always private, and if she heard that a recipient of her bounty had disclosed the good deed, that person never received another penny from her. She was a short, stout lady, dressed fashionably, had an aristocratic air, and hked to be respected as rich and of good family. For some time she resided at York, and visited Scar- borough in the season, where she was well known on account of her eccentricities. She used to send for "a pennyworth of strawberries " or " a pennyworth of cream " at a time, and pay down her penny, as she had an aversion to tradesmen's bills. From this she obtained the name of " Peg Pennyworth," which stuck to her through life. An incident occurred at Scarborough in which she displayed her aversion to public charities. She was solicited by some 1 74 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. gentlemen to give a subscription to a charity on behalf of which they were making a collection. Peg pulled out her purse with an ominous frown, and turned out its con- tents into her palm. This was in or about 1774, when light guineas were in disgrace. She deliberately selected from among the coins the lightest guinea she could find, and handed it to the gentlemen. The celebrated Foote laid hold of this incident, and drew her character in a farce, under the name of " Peg Penny- worth." When informed of this she exclaimed, with a smile, " I will see it acted, as I live." She did, and expressed her satisfaction that the character in the play did her justice. She frequently catered for herself, making her own purchases, and taking them home in her carriage. Once, having purchased some eels, she put them in her pocket, entered her coach, and called on a lady friend and invited her to come out with her for an airing. The warmth of Peg's pocket revived the seemingly dead eels, and they began to wriggle out to enjoy a little fresh air. The lady who was sitting beside Peg, happening to look down, saw what she thought was a serpent just writhing into her lap, and several hideous heads breaking out of the side of Mistress Margaret Wharton. She uttered an awful shriek, bounded to her feet, pulled the checkstring, and cried, " Madam ! madam ! you are swarming with adders ! Coachman, stop ! Let me out ! let me out ! " Mistress Wharton coolly looked at the eels, now escaping rapidly from her pocket, gathered them up, and shoved them into her reticule, saying, " I protest, madam, it is only my eels come to life. Sit you down again, and don't be friiihtened." ^^Peg Pennyworth. " 175 One day at Scarborough she had ordered a large meat- pie to be baked for dinner. It was a very large one — to serve for herself, some visitors, and all the servants. When it was made she ordered the footman to take it to the bakehouse, but he declined, saying that it was not his place, neither did it comport with his dignity, to be seen in Scarborough stalking through the streets in plush and tags, bearing a huge meat-pie. Mistress Margaret then ordered the coachman to take it, but he declined. " Bring out the carriage, then ! " said Peg Pennyworth. The horses were harnessed ; the coachman put on his powdered wig and mounted the box ; the footman took his place behind ; and Mistress Margaret Wharton, bearing the meat-pie, sat in state in the carriage. " Drive to the bakehouse." So the coachman whipped his horses, and the meat-pie was carried thus to the baker's. An hour or two later the carriage was ordered out again, the coachman remounted the box, the footman took his stand behind, and the lady drove to the bakehouse to fetch her pie, which she carried back thus to her house. " Now," said she to the coach- man, " you have kept your place, which is to drive ; and you," turning to the footman, " have kept yours, which is to wait ; and now we shall all have some of the pie." Mistress Wharton had a visiting acquaintance with a lady, a clergyman's wife, in York. On the death of her husband, the widow retired with her four daughters to Thirsk, and she invited Peg Pennyworth to visit her. To her dismay, one day up drove Mistress Wharton in her carriage, with coachman, footman, and lady's maid. The widow, whose means were not very ample, endured I "j^ Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. having all these people quartered on her for a month, but at the expiration of that time she was obliged to hint to the nephew of her guest that " the pressure on her means was rather greater than she could bear." " Let my aunt have her way," said Mr. Wharton. " I will pay you two hundred a year during her life, and one hundred during your own, should you survive her." Mistress Margaret Wharton never left the house of the widow, but died there after some years, in the one hundred and third year of her age, in 1791. The annuity was regularly paid to the widow lady to the day of her death. Peter Barker^ the Blind yoiner. \ 7 7 PETER BARKER, THE BLIND JOINER OF HAMPSWAITE. ETER BARKER was born on July 10th, 1808. At the age of four he was deprived of sight by an inflammation of the eyes, and ever after- wards he was — " dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrevocerably dark ; total eclipse, Without all hope of day." The loss of his sight caused Peter from an early age to cultivate music, and he became a skilful performer on the violin ; and as he grew up to manhood he frequented the village feasts, dances, and merry-makings all round the country, as a performer on that instrument. This led him into habits of intemperance. But he had a strong will, a tender conscience, and seeing that he was sinking in his own respect and in that of others, he determined to abandon his musical profession. But he must earn his livelihood ; and he determined to become a joiner. He fell to work to make a chair, succeeded in the first attempt, and for the rest of his life followed carpentering as his profession. He handled his tools with all the dexterity of a practised workman ; his shop was always in order, the tools in their proper position N 178 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. in the rack, or in his hands. The only peculiarity about his instruments was in the foot-rule he used for making his measurements, the lines on which were marked by small pins, of different numbers, to indicate the different feet on the rule. The idea of having his rule thus marked was suggested by a lady who interested herself in his welfare. She wrote to a manufacturer of carpenters' rules in London, to inquire if such a thing could be had as a rule with raised lines and figures ; the answer was that no such rules were made. Failing to procure an article of this kind, she suggested the making of the measurements on it with pins ; and this was carried into effect. The articles made by this blind workman were firm and substantial, the joints even and close, and the polish smooth. It is said that a cabinet-maker at Leeds, having heard reports of the blind joiner's skill, procured a chair he had made, and showed it to the workmen in his shop, asking them their opinion of the chair. After examining it, they said that they thought there was nothing particular about the chair, only it was a thoroughly well-made, serviceable one. "So it is," said the master; "but — will you believe it ? — the man who made it never saw it : he was blind from a child." Their indifference was at once turned into amazement. The writer of a memoir of Peter Barker* says :— " We have frequently seen him at work, and were it not from the more frequent handling of the articles operated on, and the nearness of his fingers to the edge of the chisel or saw, there was nothing apparently to distinguish his manner from that of an ordinary workman. In 1S68 we found him at work in the church, repairing the seats, and • Published by T. Thorpe, Patcly Bridge, 1S73. Peter Barlcer, the Blind Joinej'. 1 79 watched him for some time before he was conscious of the presence of any one. He showed us what he had done — lowered the fronts of both the pulpit and reading-desk, the one twenty inches, the other a foot ; brought forward a pew some three feet, and refronted it with panels of old carved oak, which he asserted was very difficult to work over again ; showed us a piece of carving which he, in conjunc- tion with the churchwarden, had only discovered the day before, and which was upwards of 200 years old; led the way into the belfry, giving a word of advice to be careful in ascending the old rickety stairs ; showed the clock, which he had under his care to keep clean and in going order. At this point, while seated on a bench, he gave us a narrative of his first acquaintance with the clock, which we give in his own words as nearly as we can remember : — * "You see, our clock is yan o' these aud fashon'd hand- made 'uns, not made exact and true by machinery as they are now, but ivvery wheel cut an' filed by hand. Aud Snow, a notified clock-makker 'at lived up aboon abit here, had the managing of her a lang time, at so much a year. He used to come just at t' time when his year was up, give t' aud clock a fether full o' oil, tak his brass, and there was no mair on him till t' next year. At last she gat as she wadn't gang at all ; she wad naither turn pointers nor strike. T' foaks i' t' toon were sadly dissatisfied ; they neither knew when to get up nor gang to bed, as they had done afore, when t' clock was all reet. T' church-maister sent for t' clock-maker, and he come an' come ageean, an' fizzled an' fafif'd aboot her, but nivver did her a farthing's worth o' good. At last he was forced to give her up as a bad job; * The strong provincial dialect is somewhat modified in this, or it would be unintelligible except to Yorkshire readers. I So Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. she was fairly worn out, an' she wad nivver be no better till she was mended with a new un ; and that's aboon twenty year sin, an' t' aud clock's here yet. Then Johnny Gill^ another clever fellow, took her under hands, and she lick'd him as fairly as she'd deean aud Snow. I was i' t' church by mysel one day, I hardly know what aboot, when it com' into my heead 'at I would try my hand at her 3 I nivver had deean nowt o' t' sort ; but if ye nivver try, ye nivver can dea (do) nowt. So t' first thing I did was to give her a reet good feelin' all ower her; an' then, heving settled all her parts fairly i' my mind, I fell to work and took her to pieces, bit by bit, got all t' works out of her, and cleaned her all ower reet soundly, particularly t' pivots, and then gav 'em all a sup o' nice oil ; then I put her together ageean ; efter a few trials I got her all reet, got her started — she strake an' kept time like a good un. Efter I finish'd I com' doon, an' into th' church garth, and wha did I meet there but Mr. Shann, our vicar at that time, and just as I was meeting him t' clock strake ageean. ' What's that, Peter ? ' he says. I says, ' It's t' clock, sir ! ' He says ageean, ' What does this mean, Peter ? ' I says, ' It meeans t' time o'day when t' clock strikes.' He began o' laughing, and said, * You're a queer fellow, Peter. I mean who made the clock strike ? ' * Oh,' I says, ' I've deean that mysel, sir. I've been at her a goodish bit to-day, an' I think I've gotten her put all reet at last.' 'Well done, Peter, you're a clever fellow,' he says. ' But you shan't do all this for nothing. I shall let the churchwardens know what you have done. You must have some reward.* * Varry weel, sir,' I says, and so we parted. And he was as good as his word. When t' churchmaisters met, he lell'd 'em all aboot it, and they allow'd me four shillings Peter Barker, the Blind Joiner. 1 8 1 for my job; and I was to have ten shillings a year for keeping her ganning ivvery year efter." In the month of July, 1865, the clock did not strike correctly. As Peter told the tale himself : — " I was i' t' shop when I heard her at it, two or three times. I stood it as lang as I could ; at last I banged doon my teeals (tools), and says to mysel', ' I'll mak thee either strake reet, or I'll mak thee as that thou'U nivver strike ageean.' Away I went, spent an hour over her, gat her reet, and she's kept reet ever sin'." His biographer says : — " Once on a visit to Peter's cottage, we found a window had been recently inserted, according to his statement, to make the fireside more lightsome — Peter having been mason, joiner, and glazier himself. In short, he appeared to be able to do any kind of work that he had the desire or the will to do. He was an expert in the art of netting — fabricating articles in that line from the common cabbage-net to the curtains which adorn the windows of the stately drawing-room. As a vocalist he sang bass in the church on Sundays. He was also one of the bell-ringers ; and during the winter months the curfew bell is rung at Hampsvvaite at eight o'clock every evening. When it was Peter's turn to ring he took a lighted lanthorn with him — not for the purpose of seeing others, but that others might see him. " He always fattened a pig in the winter season, and had a method of measurement of his own for ascertaining how much weight the pig had gained every week ; and to such measurement and calculation the pig was weekly subjected until he attained the proper bulk and weight. Peter generally bought his pig himself, and for that purpose attended the market at Knaresborough, where the bargain 1 82 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. was cause of much amusement to the onlookers. When the pig was pointed out which was thought hkely, the seller had to seize the same, and hold it still as possible, until Peter had felt it over and ascertained its joints, and passed his judgment on its feeding qualities." Peter learned to read with his fingers in 1853, and was given a New Testament with embossed letters. He was very fond of children, and would play tunes to them on his fiddle at his shop-door of a summer evening, whilst they danced and sang. He had made this fiddle himself, as well as the case in which he kept it. So delicate was Peter's touch that he was able to tell the hour on a watch by opening the case and running his fingers lightly over the face. Peter in his youth had a romantic courtship, and married a wife. She presented him with a son, born in 1846 ; and died on June 3rd, 1862. The boy, who was his father's constant companion and delight, died the following year, on Jan. 19th, 1863, leaving the poor blind joiner's house completely desolate. After a few weeks' illness, Peter died in his cottage, near the churchyard gate, on February i8th, 1873, at the age of sixty. The White House. 183 THE WHITE HOUSE. IN" the road between Raskelfe and Easingwold stood in 1623, and stands still, a lonely inn called " The White House." The wide brown heathery moor called Pill- Moor then extended to the roots of the Hambledon hills ; on a slight rising ground above the marshes stood here and theie a farm or cottage ; and here and there a portion of the soil had been enclosed. To this day a large portion of the moor remains untilled, and is a favourite resort of botanists, who find there several varieties of gentian and orchis, rare elsewhere. Originally it stretched from Borough Bridge to the Hambledons, intersected by the streams flowing into the Ouse, patched here and there with pools of water. In the White House lived a man called Ralph Raynard, and his sister. Ralph paid his addresses to a fine-looking young woman, dark-eyed, dark-haired, who lived at Thorn- ton Bridge, at the Red House, where the road from Brafferton or ToUerton crossed the Ouse to Topcliffe and Ripon. The old house, lonely, surrounded by trees, with traces of a moat or pond, in spring full of yellow flags, stands to this day almost deserted. The girl was poor, and a good match was of the first advantage to her ; she 1 84 Vorlcskire Oddities and Incidents. was at the time in service at the Red House, and thither Ralph came to visit her. But, for some cause unknown, they quarrelled, an estrangement ensued, and Ralph came no more across Thornton Bridge. At the same time a yeoman named Fletcher, living at Moor House, in the parish of Raskelfe, had cast his eyes on the comely young woman, and he took advantage of the rupture between the lovers to step in and offer his hand to the damsel. He was at once accepted, in a fit of resent- ment against Ralph Raynard, and the marriage rapidly followed; so that she soon found herself the wife of a man whom she did not love, and some miles nearer the White House, where lived Ralph, whom she did love, than when she had resided at Thornton Bridge. The resentment she had felt died away ; an explanation followed when too late. There was a scene — despair on both sides, and resentment entertained by both Ralph Raynard and Mrs. Fletcher against the unfortunate yeoman who stood between them and perfect union and happiness. On market-day, when Mrs. Fletcher ambled on her nag into Easingwold, she invariably halted at the White House, when the hostler, one Mark Dunn, a beetle-browed, un- couth fellow from Huby, received and held her horse as she dismounted and entered the inn. Ralph, the host, was always there, and received Mrs. Fletcher with an affection which dissatisfied his sister, a woman of sense, who saw that this cherishing of an old passion could lead to no good. When Mark Dunn disappeared for hours at a time, she shrewdly suspected that he was sent on messages to Raskelfe. More than once she interfered and rebuked Ralph, her The White Hotise. 185 brother, warning him of the dangerous consequences of thus encouraging the attachment of a woman now bound to another man by the most sacred ties. With an oath he bade her mind her own business, and not interfere with him. Fletcher could not but be aware that his wife did not love him ; whispers reached him that she met her old sweetheart when he was from home ; that her nag was seen standing an unreasonable time outside the door of the White House. He caught Mark Dunn one evening prowling in his orchard, and he fell on him with a stick. The ungainly fellow howled with pain, and swore revenge. Fletcher became gloomy, neglected his affairs, and began to fall into difficulties. He had been sincerely, passionately attached to the dark-eyed, handsome girl he had brought to his home. He had done his utmost to render her happy, and now she was making his home miserable, destroying the former serenity of his spirits. He was obliged to go one day on business to Easing- wold. He would not return till late. His wife knew it. Something troubled his mind. A presentiment of evil which he could not shake off hung over him, and he wrote on a sheet of paper— " If I should be missing, or suddenly wanted be, Mark Ralph Raynard, Mark Dunn, and mark my wife for me," directed it to his sister, and on reaching Easingwold, posted it. No sooner was he gone than Mrs. Fletcher mounted her horse and rode to the White House. She asked to see Raynard, and he walked by her side some way back to Raskelfe. There they parted ; and Raynard was next I S6 YorksJdre Oddities and Incidents. observed in close conversation with his hostler, Mark Dunn. It was May-Day. In the sweet spring evening Fletcher was returning on foot from Easingwold, when he came to Daunay Bridge, where at that time a road branched off from the highway from the North to York, and traversing the Lund, led to Raskelfe. As he crossed the bridge he stood still for a moment, and looked up at the stars, just appearing. Next moment Raynard and Dunn were upon him ; they had sprung from behind the bridge, and he was flung over it into the water. The stream is narrow and not deep, so that, once recovered from the shock, he could have easily crawled out. But the murderers leaped into the water after him. Mrs. Fletcher, with a long sack over her shoulder, ran out from the shadow of a bush where she had been concealed, and they held the farmer under water, the two men grasping his throat, his wife retaining his feet in the sack, into which she thrust them, till his struggles ceased, and he was, or was supposed to be, dead. The body was then thrust into the sack which Mrs. Fletcher had brought for the purpose, and the three guilty ones assisted in carrying or dragging the body along the road towards the White House. They were alarmed once ; the clatter of a horse's hoofs were heard, and they con- cealed themselves by the road-side. The horseman passed, they emerged from their place of hiding, and continued their course. As they drew near to the inn a streak of light from the inn-door showed that it was open. They heard voices. The horseman had called for something to drink, and it was brought to him without his dismounting. Then Miss Raynard was heard calling, " Ralph I Ralph ! " She The White House. 1S7 wondered, perhaps, at his long absence, or wanted him for some purpose in the house. No answer was returned. Raynard, Dunn, and Mrs. Fletcher lifted the body over the low hedge into Raynard's croft or garden, and buried it in a place where the ground had been disturbed that day by his having stubbed up an old root. They carefully covered the body with earth, and Raynard sowed mustard-seed over the place. It v/as thought prudent that Mrs. Fletcher and Raynard should not meet after this. People wondered what had become of Fletcher ; but knowing that he was somewhat embarrassed in his circum- stances, they readily accepted the statement of his wife — that he had gone out of the way to avoid having a writ served on him. Thus matters stood till the 7th July, when Ralph Raynard rode to Topclifife fair. It was a bright sunny day. He passed the Moor House, but did not stay there -, crossed Thornton Bridge, went before the Red House, where he had so often visited and spent such happy hours with her now his accomplice in crime, along by Cundall to Topcliffe. He dismounted at the inn there — the Angel, an old- fashioned house near the dilapidated market-cross. He led his horse out of the yard into the stable. The sun glared without ; within it was dark. As he was removing the bridle from his horse, suddenly he saw standing before him the spirit of Fletcher, pale, with a phosphoric light playing about him, pointing to him, and saying, "O Ralph, Ralph! repent. Ven- geance is at hand ! " In an agony of horror he fled out of the stable. In the daylight without he recovered i88 YorJishire Oddities and Incidents. composure, and endeavoured to believe that he had been a victim to delusion. He thought he must buy some present for the woman, love for whom had led him to the com- mission of murder. He went to one of the stalls to buy- some trinket — a chain of imitation coral beads. " How does it look on the neck?" he asked, extending it to the keeper of the stall. Then he looked up and saw a ghastly figure opposite — the dead man with the coral round his neck, knotted under his ear, and his head on one side, the eyes wide open, with a blaze in the eyes, and heard him £ay : '* How like you a red streak round the neck like this ? I will put one round the throat of my wife ; and you shall wear one too ! " Sick and faint, he hastened back to the inn, and called for beer. Towards evening he rode home. He saw as he came towards the Carr, where there is a dense clump of trees, a figure looking at him. It was de- liberately getting out of a sack, and shaking and wring- ing water out of its clothes. With a scream of terror Raynard plunged his spurs into the horse's flanks, and galloped past Cundall, home. As he crossed Thornton Bridge he closed his eyes, but when he opened them again he saw the well-known figure of the dead man walking before him so fast that his horse could not catch him up. He trailed the sack after him, and left a luminous track on the road. When it reached a point at a little distance from the White House — the very spot where Raynard, Mrs. • Fletcher, and Mark Dunn had turned aside with the body — the spectre strode across the heather, leaped the low hedge, and melted, apparently, into the ground, where now a rich, green crop of mustard was growing. " You're back earlier than I thought," said the sister of The White House. 1S9 Ralph Raynard. " I reckon thou'st not been stopping this time at Moor House ? " Raynard said nothing, except " I'm ill." " Ah," said his sister, " I've gotten thee a nice bit o' supper ready, with a beautiful dish o' salad." And she laid the cloth, and placed upon it a plate of fresh-cut mustard j Raynard's face grew rigid and white. "What is the matter? " asked his sister. Opposite him, on the settle, sat the dead man, pointing to the salad. Ralph sprang up, drew his sister away, and told her all. She, poor woman, horror-struck, ran ofif at once to Sir William Sheffield, a justice of peace, residing at Raskelfe Park. The three guilty parties were apprehended and taken to York, where, on July 28th, 1623, all three were hung. When they had been cut down, the bodies were removed and conveyed in a waggon to the White House, the hang- man seated by the driver in front. There is a little rise not far from the inn, commanding the spot where the murder was committed, and the green mustard-bed where the body of Fletcher had been hidden, but which had been removed and buried in Raskelfe churchyard. On this hill a gibbet had been erected, and there the three bodies were hung, with their faces towards the dismal flat and the gurgling stream where the murdered man had been drowned. There they hung, blown about by the autumn storms, screeched over by the ravens and magpies, baked by the summer sun, their bare scalps capped with cakes of snow in the cold winter, till they dropped upon the ground, and then the bones were buried and the gallows cut down. 1 90 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. About eighty years ago the plough was drawn over Gallows Hill, when a quantity of bones were unearthed by the share. They were the bones of Raynard, Dunn, and Mrs. Fletcher. The hill to this day bears its ill-omened name, and people mutter about Raskelfe the doggerel lines — " A wooden church, a wooden steeple, Rascally church, and rascally* people." * Raskelfe is commonly called Rascall. yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity. 191 JEMMY HIRST; AN ODDITY.*'' f|EMMY was born at Rawclifife, in the West Riding, on October 12th, 1738. His father was a respectable substantial farmer, without great brilliancy of parts, but with the usual Yorkshire shrewdness. The boy soon began to exhibit originality; mischievous- ness was mistaken by a fond mother for genius, and he was destined for the Church. He was sent accordingly to a boarding-school, to a clergyman, at the age of eight, to acquire the rudiments of the necessary education. But at school Jemmy's genius took an altogether perverse turn. He was always first in the playground and last in class ; a leader in mischief, a laggard in study. Finding his master's spectacles on the desk one day, Jemmy unscrewed them, and removed the glasses. When the Principal came in, he gravely took up the spectacles and put them on. Finding them dim, he removed them. When he was seen demurely to wipe where the glasses had been, and then, with his fingers through the rims, to hold them up to his eyes to see what was the matter, the whole school burst * "The Life and Adventures of J. Hirst." Hepworth, Knot- tingley (n.d.) Another Life published at Pontefract. 192 Yorlishire Oddities and Incidents. out laughing. The pedagogue demanded the name of the culprit. Jemmy had not the honesty or courage to pro- claim himself the author of the trick, and the whole school was whipped accordingly. On the morning of the ist April, early, a big boy in his dormitory sent Jemmy to the master, expecting that he would knock at his bedroom door, wake him, and get a thrashing for his pains. Jemmy turned out of bed and went outside the door, waited a minute, and then came into the dormitory again. "Ah! Tom, thou'rt in for it. Thou mun go at once to Lovell for having made an April fool of him and me." The boy, believing this, went to the master's door, knocked him up, and got well thrashed for his pains. " You will know in future what is meant by the biter being bit," said Jemmy, when the boy returned, crying. "There's an old fable about the viper biting the file and breaking his teeth. Perhaps you can understand the moral of it now." The Principal kept an old sow. Jemmy used to get on her back, tie a piece of twine — " band '' a Yorkshire boy would call it — to the ring in her snout, run a nail through the heel of his boot to act as spur, and gallop the old sow round the yard. This was often performed with impunity, but not always. The master saw him from his window one morning as he was shaving, and rushed down with a horse- whip in his hand. Jemmy was careering joyously round and round the yard, when a crack of the lash across his back dislodged him. He was fed next day on bread and water as a punishment. One night Jemmy and some of his schoolmates got out of the house with intent to rob an orchard. But one of the day scholars had overheard the boarders planning the raid, and he informed the farmer whose orchard it was purposed yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity 193 to rob, and he was on the look-out for the young rogues. When they arrived he suffered one of them — it was Jemmy — to cHmb a« apple-tree without molestation, but then he rushed forth from his hiding-place and laid about him with a carter's whip with hearty goodwill. The boys fled in all directions, except Jemmy, who escaped further up the tree, and there remained, unable, like a squirrel, to leap from bough to bough, and so escape. The farmer went under the tree and shouted to him, "Come down, you young rascal ! I'll strap thee ! " " Nay," answered Jemmy, " dost see any green in my eye? It's like I should come down to get a whipping, isn't it?" And he began leisurely to eat some of the apples, and pelt the farmer with others. The man, highly irate, began to climb the tree after him. Jem remained composedly eating till the farmer was within reach of him, and then he drew a cornet of pepper from his pocket and dusted it into the eyes of his pursuer. The man, half- blinded, desisted from his attempts to catch the boy, in his efforts to clear his eyes, and Jemmy slipt past him down the tree and escaped. Next day the farmer came to the school to complain, and Jemmy received thirty strokes on his back with the birch. " Ah ! " said Jemmy, " thou'st made my back tingle, and I'll make thine smart." So he got a darning-needle, and stuck it in the master's hair- bottomed chair in such a way that when anyone sat down the needle would protrude through the cushion, but would recede on the person's rising again. At school hour the master came in, and seated himself in his chair with his usual gravity. But suddenly up he bounded like a rocket; then turned and examined the cushion, very red in the face. The cushion seemed all o 1 94 Yorlishire Oddities and Incidc7its, right when he felt it with his hand, so he sat himself down on it again, but this time much more leisurely. No sooner, however, was his weight on it than up came the needle again, and with it up bounded the master. " Please, sir," said Jemmy, affecting simplicity, " was there a thorn in the seat ? If so, thou'd better run two or three times round t' school yard ; I did so yesterday to work t' birch buds out o' my flesh." Jemmy had one day tied two cats together by their hind legs and thrown them over a rail, when the master, who had been watching him from an upper window, made his appearance on the scene, horse-whip in hand, and belaboured Jemmy severely. But little Hirst always retaliated in some way. The master used to walk up and down in the evening in the yard behind the school. He wore a foxy wig. Jemmy one evening went into the study where Mr. Lovell kept his fishing tackle, for he was fond of angling. The window was open ; Jemmy cast the hook, as for a fish, and caught the little fox-coloured wig. Then leaving the rod in the window, and the head of hair dangling above the master's reach, he ran down into the school. The Principal was therefore obliged to go upstairs with bald head to his study to recover his wig. This final act of insubordination was too much for Mr. Lovell — it touched him in his tenderest point ; and he wrote to Mr. Hirst to request him to remove the unmanageable boy from his school. He was fourteen years old when his father took him away, and was little advanced in his learning. Every pros- pect of his going into the Church was abandoned, but what trade or profession he was qualified for was as yet unde- cided. His father wanted to put him to school again, but yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity. 195 Jemmy so steadily and doggedly persisted in his refusal to go to another, that his indulgent father ceased to press it. The boy showed no inclination for farming, and no per- suasion of his father could induce him to take a farming implement in his hands to work with. His chief pleasure consisted in teaching pigs and calves to jump. Mr. Hirst had a friend at Rawcliffe, a tanner, and this friend persuaded Mr. Hirst to bind Jemmy apprentice to him ; and as the boy showed no disinclination to the trade, he was bound to the tanner for seven years. The tanner had a daughter called Mary, a year younger than Jemmy, and a tender friendship grew up between the young people : Jemmy was softened and civilised by the gentle influence of the girl ; he took willingly to the trade, became settled, lost his mischievous propensities, and promised to turn out a respectable member of society. An incident occurred three years after he had entered the tanner's house which tended to cement this attachment closer. Mary went one Saturday to spend the day with an aunt living at Barnsley. Jemmy ferried her over the river in a boat belonging to the tanner, and promised to fetch her in the evening. Accordingly, towards nightfall he crossed the river, and made his boat fast to a stake, and then walked to Barnsley to meet the young girl. Mary met him with her usual smile, and tripped by his side to the boat, but in stepping into it her foot slipped, and she was swept down by the current. Jemmy instantly leaped overboard, swam after her, overtook her before she sank, and supporting her with one arm, succeeded in bring- ing her ashore, where several persons who had witnessed the accident were assembled to assist and receive her. Mary's parents showed Jemmy much gratitude for his 196 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. courageous conduct in saving her life, and the girl clung to him with intense affection ; whilst Jemmy, who seemed to think he had acquired some right over her by his having saved her life, was never happy unless he was by her side. They were always together. She would steal in to do her needlework in the place where he was engaged in his trade, and when work was over they were together walking in the lanes and fields. But in the midst of this happiness a stroke fell on them which for ever altered the tenor of Jemmy's life. Mary fell ill with smallpox. The lad watched by her bedside night and day, giving her medicine, making up her pillow, tending her with agonised heart, utterly forgetful of him- self, fearing no risk of infection, heedless of taking his natural rest. The whole time of her illness he never slept, and could scarcely be induced to leave her side for his meals. On the fifth day she died. The blow was more than Jemmy could bear, and he was prostrated with brain- fever. That the poor boy had naturally very deep feelings is evident from his having, some few years before, been laid up with fever when his mother died. Hearing of her death whilst he was at school, he became ill and was removed home, where it was some time before he got over the shock. Mary had taken the place in his vacant heart formerly occupied by his mother, and with years the strength of his feelings had increased. Consequently the loss of Mary affected him even more than that of his mother. In his brain fever he raved incessantly of the poor dead girl, and for several weeks his life was despaired of. By yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity. 197 degrees he slowly recovered ; but for some time it was feared that his reason was gone. At the end of six or seven months he was able to take a little exercise without attendance; but, as will be seen, he never wholly re- covered the blow, and his conduct thenceforth was so eccentric that there can be no doubt his brain was affected. He left the tanner's, abandoned the trade, and returned to his father's house, where he idled, preying on his fancies — one day in mad, exuberant spirits, the next over- whelmed with despondency. When aged five-and-twenty he took a fancy to a fine bull-calf belonging to his father, which he called " Jupiter," and he began to train it to perform various tricks, and to break it to bear the saddle. Jupiter bore the bridle patiently enough, but plunged and tossed his horns when the saddle was placed on his back. Jemmy next ventured to mount his back. The young bull stood for a minute or two, as his father said, " right down stagnated," and then began to plunge and kick. Jemmy held fast, and Jupiter, finding he could not thus dislodge his rider, set off, tearing across the paddock towards a thick quickset hedge at the bottom. But instead of leaping it, as Jemmy expected, the bull ran against the fence, and precipitated his rider over the hedge into the ditch on the further side. Jemmy was unhurt, except for a few scratches and some rents in his garments, and patches of mud, and picking himself up, raced after Jupiter, nothing daunted, caught him, and remounting him, mastered the beast. After this he rode Jupiter daily, to the great amusement of people generally, especially when he trotted into Snaith on market-days on the back of the now docile bull. On the death of his father he was left about ^1000. 198 Yorlcshire Oddities and Incidents, The farm he gave up, having no taste for agriculture, and he took a house on the bank of the river, not far from his old master's the tanner. The house had a few acres of land attached to it, which he cultivated. The old housekeeper, who had known him since a child, followed him to his new home ; and in his stable was a stall for Jupiter. He began to speculate in corn, flax, and potatoes, and having considerable natural shrewdness underlying his eccentric manners, he managed to realise enough to support himself comfortably. He invested ;i^4ooo in con- sols, and had ^2000 lying at interest in a neighbouring bank. He rode out with Lord Beaumont's foxhounds, always on Jupiter, who was trained to jump as well as to run. When he was seen coming up on the bull, Lord Beaumont would turn to those with him at the meet and say, " Well, gentlemen, if we are not destined to find game to-day, we may be sure of sport." His dress was as extraordinary as his mount, for he wore a broad-brimmed hat of lambskin, fully nine feet in circumference; his waistcoat was like Joseph's coat, of many colours, made of patchwork; his breeches were of listings of various colours, plaited together by his house- keeper ; and he wore yellow boots. Though Jupiter could keep up with the foxhunters for a few miles, his powers of endurance were not so great as those of a horse, and he began to lag. Lord Beaumont would pass Jemmy, and say, " Come, Mr. Hirst, you will not be in at the death." •' No ; but I shall at the dinner," was Jemmy's dry reply. Lord Beaumont always took the hint, and invited him to Carlton House to the hunting dinner. His Lordship had a nephew visiting him on one occasion, yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity. 199 a London exquisite, who thought he could amuse himself at Jemmy's expense. One day at the meet this young man said to Captain Bolton, " Let us quiz the old fellow." — '^ By all means," answered the captain ; *' but take care that you do not get the worst of it." When Jemmy came up, the young dandy, bowing to him on his saddle, said, " I wish you a good morning, Joseph." " My name isn't Joseph," answered Jemmy. " Oh, I beg pardon. I mistook you by your coat and waistcoat for that patriarch," "Young man," said Jemmy, with perfect composure, " 't win't do to judge by appearances. As I wor a-coming up, says I to mysen, ' You're a gentleman.' When I gotten a bit closer, says I, * Nay, he's a dandy.' And now that I heard thee voice, I knows thou'rt nowt but a jackass." Jemmy was out with the hounds one day, along with Lord Wharncliffe and Lord Beaumont and several of the gentry of the neighbourhood. It was agreed amongst them, unknown to Jemmy, that he should be let into a scrape, if possible. Accordingly, after the start. Lord Wharncliffe kept near him, and led him into a field sur- rounded by a low, thick hedge — low enough for Jupiter to clear without any trouble. On the other side of the hedge in one place there was a drinking-pond for the cattle, five or six feet deep, and full of water at the time. Lord Wharn- cliffe kept close by Jemmy, and edged towards where the pond was ; and then, putting spurs to his horse, he leaped the fence, and Jemmy did the same to Jupiter, and clearing the hedge in gallant style, came splashing into the water, and rolled off Jupiter. Lord Wharncliffe, when he saw Jemmy fairly in the middle of the pond, turned back, and alighted, in order to 200 Yoi'kshire Oddities and Incidents. assist him out of the water. He found him half bhnded with mud and dirt, trying to scramble out, his clothes com- pletely saturated. Jemmy managed to get out without assistance, but it was some time before their united efforts could extricate Jupiter. Lord Beaumont offered Jemmy a change of clothes if he would go to his house, but he would not hear of the proposal, declaring he would see the day's sport over first ; and so they rode on together towards the rest of the party, who were halted near Rawcliffe Wood. The fox had been caught after a short run, and the huntsmen were already beating after another. Jemmy was greeted with a general titter. Captain Bolton laughed out, and said, " Why, Jemmy, you've been fishing, not hunting. What have you caught ? " Jemmy looked hard at him — he was in no good humour after his plunge — and said, " I reckon there's a flat fish I know of that I'll catch some day." " Why, Jemmy," said Lord Wharnclifife, laughing, " I saw you catch a flounder." " Ha ! ha ! " said the captain, " that's good ! You've taken the shine out of your smart clothes to-day. Jemmy," " A little water will give it back to them," answered Hirst, sulkily. " Jemmy," asked Captain Bolton, " did you think you were drowning in the wash-tub? Did you say your prayers in it ? " " No," answered Jemmy, angrily, " I didn't ; but what I was doing then was wishing I'd got a contemptible puppy named Bolton in the pond with me, that I might kick his breech." Jemmy soon saw that he had been the victim of a planned yemmy Hii'st ; an Oddity. 201 trick, and he determined to have his revenge. " I know very well that Lord Wharncliffe led me o' purpose into t' pond — I could see't by his manner; but I'll be even wi' him." He did not carry his purpose into execution at once, lest he should arouse suspicion, but about a month afterwards, when in company with Lord Wharncliffe, he adroitly let drop that he had seen a number of snipe on Rawcliffe moor. This moor, now enclosed, was then a wide, open common, full of marshy places, and with here and there bogs covered with a little green moss, deep holes full of peat water, not to be discerned except by those who were well acquainted with them and the treacherousness of their bright green covering. Lord Wharncliffe, Captain Bolton, and some others, made up a party to shoot on the common the following day, and met Jemmy, who under- took to show them where the snipe most congregated. They had a good day's sport, and when it fell dusk were returning home, Jemmy beside Lord Wharncliffe, whom he engaged in conversation, and Captain Bolton, with his gun over his shoulder, immediately behind, joining in the con- versation at intervals. Jemmy led the way direct to one of these bog-holes, and on reaching the patch of moss adroitly slipped on one side, and let Lord Wharncliffe and Captain Bolton walk straight into it. The moss at once yielded, and both sank to their breasts, and only kept their heads above water by spreading out their arms on the moss. In this condition they were perfectly helpless. To struggle was to endanger their lives, for if the web of moss were torn, they must infallibly sink beneath it. Jemmy looked at them from the firm ground with a malicious grin. 202 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. " Ha, ha ! captain," said he, laughing ; " art thou saying thy prayers in yond wash-tub ? " " Go to the devil ! " roared Captain Bolton. " Nay," answered Jemmy, " thou'rt going to him as fast as thou can, unless I pull thee out." He held out his gun to Lord Wharncliffe, and assisted him from the hole. " There, my Lord, now you have tit for tat." " Well, Mr. Hirst, I shall take care how I play with edged tools again. But I think it is too bad of you to punish Captain Bolton as well as me." " Why, my lord, he seemed to enjoy the horse-pond so much that I thowt I'd let him taste the bog-pit. I've no doubt it gives him a deal o' pleasure." " You old scarecrow ! " said the captain, angrily. " I've a great mind to shoot you." As he was helping Captain Bolton out with his gun he said, dryly, " Sure it's a rare funny sight to see a queer sole angling for a flat fish." The immersed man little enjoyed the jokes at his expense, and he swore at Jemmy. " Ah ! " said that oddity, " I don't think thou'rt a fish worth catching. Shall I fling him in again, my lord ? He's nowt but what folks would call a little common-place." Jemmy's old housekeeper died, and he supplied her place by a strange creature, nearly as great an oddity as himself, called Sarah, who for many years had kept house for a rag-and-bone dealer at Howden, but who at his death had returned to Rawcliffe, her native place, and was living with her brother there when Jemmy engaged her. Having made money by his speculations in corn and potatoes, he resolved to retire from business. He invested yemmy Hirst; an Oddity. 203 /'4000 in the funds and /^2ooo in the bank, and lived on the interest. He was now forty-five years old. An inactive life, however, did not suit him, so he turned his mind to mechanics, and made several curious con- trivances, some useful. He constructed a windmill to thrash corn, but for this purpose it did not answer, though it served for cutting up straw and chopping turnips. His next contrivance was a carriage, the body of which was made of wickervvork. It cost him a year's constant application to finish it, and when completed it was calcu- lated to cause a sensation. It was a huge palanquin, with a top like an exaggerated Chinaman's hat, supported on four iron rods, which were screwed into the shafts, the shafts running the whole length of the carriage, and resting on springs connected with the axle of the wheels. The sides and back of the carriage were made of wickervvork matting. The axle-case was faced with a clock dial with numbers, and hands connected with a piece of ingenious mechanism, afterwards perfected and patented by another person, which told the distance the carriage had gone by measuring the number of rotations made by the wheels. Jemmy used for his hunting-suit a lambskin hat, a rabbit-skin jacket, a waistcoat made of the skins of drakes' necks with the feathers on, a pair of list breeches, yellow, blue, black, and red, stockings of red and white worsted, and yellow boots. His best room was furnished as curiously as his person. Instead of pictures, the walls were hung round with bits of old iron and coils of rope ; in one place an old frying-pan, in another a rusty sword, a piece of a chair, or a jug. One evening, after a day's sport, he invited the party to join him for a social evening, and the offer was eagerly 204 Yorkshii'e Oddities and Incidents. accepted, as every one was curious to see the interior of his house. He gave them a very fair entertainment, and amused them all the evening with his jokes. Immediately over Lord Wharncliffe's head was suspended a pair of horse's blinkers. " Do you wear these ? " asked a Mr. Sadler who was present. " No, sir, I do not ; I keep them for donkeys of a peculiar make, who stand on their hind legs and ask impertinent questions." " What do you mean ? " asked the young man, redden- ing. " Is that intended as a personal remark ? " " Draw your own inferences," answered Jemmy, knock- ing the ashes out of his pipe. The young man was so offended that he demanded satis- faction for the insult. The company tried hard to pacify him, but in vain. Jemmy then whispered in Lord Wharn- cliffe's ear, and the latter immediately rose from the table, and said, " Now, gentlemen, Mr. Hirst is quite willing to give Mr. Sadler that satisfaction he desires. He has requested my services as second. I have granted his wish. As soon as Mr. Sadler can arrange with any gentleman to act as his second, I shall be happy to arrange preliminaries with him." Mr. Sadler having chosen a second, the belligerents were desired to leave the room for a few moments until arrangements had been made for the duel. As they left the room Lord Wharncliffe whispered in the ear of one of the party, " Follow Mr. Sadler into the other room, and take a bottle of wine with you ; get him to drink as much as possible, and we will manage to make the affair end in fun." yem^ny Hirst ; an Oddity. 205 The gentleman did as desired. Then Lord Wharncliffe and Jemmy, sHpping in by another door, proceeded to dress up a dummy that was in a closet hard by in Jemmy's clothes. Mr. Sadler was then told that all was ready, and he returned into the room rather the worse for the liquor he had drunk. The pistol was put into his hand, and he was stationed opposite the dummy, which with outstretched arm pointed a pistol at him. The signal was given, and Mr. Sadler fired; then Jemmy, who was secreted in a closet hard by, pulled a string, and the dummy fell with a heavy thud upon the floor. Mr. Sadler, who thought he had killed his antagonist, was sobered instantly, and was filled with remorse and fear. He rushed to the dead man and then towards the door, then back to the corpse to see if life were quite extinct. Then only, to his great relief, he found that the supposed dead man was made of wood. The company burst into a roar of laughter, and when he had sufficiently recovered from his bewilderment he joined heartily in the mirth raised at his own expense. Jemmy, emerging from his place of con- cealment, apologised for the offence he had given, and both shook hands. The carouse was renewed with fresh vigour, and the sun had risen an hour before the party broke up and its members unsteadily wended their way homewards. Jemmy had bought a litter of pigs, and entertained the idea of teaching them to act as setters in his shooting expeditions, and therefore spent a considerable time every day in training them. There were only two that he could make anything of. But he never could induce them to desist from grunting. It was impossible to make them 2o6 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. control their emotions sufficiently to keep quiet, and this inveterate habit of course spoiled them as setters. When the litter was about six months old, one of the little pigs discovered his potato garden, and that by putting its snout under the lowest bar of the gate it could lift the gate so that the latch was disengaged from the catch, and the gate swung open; so that the pig was able to get in to the roots. Hirst saw the pig do this several times, and he determined to stop this little game. He therefore ground the blade of a scythe, and fixed it, with the sharp edge downwards, to the lower bar. Shortly after, Jemmy saw the pig go to the gate, but in lifting it off the hasp the scythe-blade cut the end of the snout off. Jemmy burst out laughing, and called his old housekeeper to see the fun ; but old Sarah was more com- passionate than her master, and begged him to kill the pig and put it out of its pain. The carriage did not altogether satisfy Jemmy ; he there- fore enlarged it to double its former size. He made it so that, when necessary, he could have a bed in it; and then he bought four Andalusian mules to draw it, and with them he drove to Pontefract and Doncaster races, which he attended every year, and created no small sensa- tion along the roads and on the course. Bear and bull baiting were favourite pastimes with him, as was also cock- fighting. He kept two bulls and a bear for this purpose. He used to call the bear Nicholas. It was a large savage animal, and was always kept muzzled at home. One morning, after it had been baited and had destroyed four dogs, he took it something to eat, but it would not touch the meat. " Ah ! thou'rt sulky ; then I mun gi'e thee a taste o' t' whip." So saying, he struck the bear yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity. 207 over the muzzle with a hunting-whip he carried in his hand. He had no sooner done so than the bear sprang upon him, seized him, and began to hug him. Jemmy roared for help, and a favourite dog rushed to his assistance and seized Bruin by the ear. The bear let go Jemmy to defend itself against the dog, and Jemmy, who had the breath nearly squeezed out of him, managed to crawl beyond the reach of the beast. The dog, seeing his master safe, laid himself down by him, facing the bear, to guard him from further attacks. Sarah found her master half-an- hour after on the ground, unable to rise, and in great pain. She raised him, assisted him to the house, and put him to bed. He was confined for three weeks by the injuries he had received. A few weeks after his recovery he attended Pontefract races in his carriage, drawn by four splendid mules, and no one on the course could keep up with him when he put the mules to their speed. Sir John Ramsden was in a carriage drawn by two fine bays, of which he was not a little proud, and he challenged Jemmy to a trial of speed round the course. Off they started. Sir John taking the lead for a short time, but Jemmy's mules, with their light carriage, soon overtook Sir John's bays, and came in a hundred yards before them. It was the most popular race run that year on the Pontefract course. He also constructed for himself a pair of wings, and by an ingenious contrivance was able to spread the feathers. But his attempt to fly from the mast-top of a boat in the Humber failed. He fell into the water, and was drawn out covered with mud, amidst the laughter of a crowd wh^ch had assembled to witness his flight. 2o8 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. Jemmy's eccentricities had reached the ears of King George III,, and he expressed a desire to see him. Lord Beaumont promised to do his best to persuade Hirst to come to town, but at the same time he told the King that if Jemmy took it into his head to decline the invitation, no power on earth could move him. Accordingly, Lord Beaumont wrote to Jemmy, stating his Majesty's wish to see him, and urging him to come as soon as possible. At the end of the week Lord Beaumont received the following reply : — " My Lord, — I have received thy letter stating his Majesty's wish to see me. What does his Majesty wish to see me for ? I'm nothing related to him, and I owe him nothing that I know of ; so I can't conceive what he wants with me. I suspect thou hast been telling him what queer clothes I wear, and such like. Well, thou may tell his Majesty that I am very busy just now training an otter to fish ; but I'll contrive to come in the course of a month or so, as I should like to see London." Lord Beaumont showed Jemmy's letter to George III., who laughed when he read it, and said, " He seems to think more of seeing London than of the honour of intro- duction to royalty." Jemmy spent a month in getting ready for his journey to London. He had an entirely new suit made — a new lamb- skin hat of the old dimensions, an otter-skin coat lined with red flannel and turned up with scarlet cloth, a waistcoat of the skins of drakes' necks, list breeches, red and white striped stockings, and shoes with large silver buckles on them. His carriage was repainted in the most lively colours; and when all was ready he adjured Sarah to look yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity. 209 well after his favourites during his absence, and then drove off at a slashing pace, drawn by his four Andalusians. He created a sensation in every town and village he passed through. People turned out of their shops and houses to see him. He put up at Doncaster at the King's Head Inn. The hostler there exhibited Jemmy's carriage and mules at a penny charge for admission, and realised something hand- some thereby. The landlord also reaped a good harvest, for the inn was crowded as long as Jemmy stayed there. Jemmy reached London in three days. Lord Beaumont's butler had been sent some time before to Tottenham, with orders to wait there till Mr. Hirst made his appearance, and then to conduct him to his Lordship's town residence. On Jemmy arriving at Tottenham, the butler informed him of his lordship's orders, and then rode off before him to show the way. The news spread through London, and the streets were crowded, so that the carriage could hardly make its way through the numbers of people whom the report of the arrival of an eccentric Yorkshireman on a visit to the King had drawn together. Jemmy, who was immensely conceited, was greatly delighted with this ovation. On reaching Lord Beaumont's house he was welcomed by his Lordship with great cordiality; and after lunch was driven out in Lord Beaumont's carriage to see the sights of London. The King was informed of Jemmy's arrival, and his Majesty expressed his wish that Jemmy should be presented to him on the morrow. Lord Beaumont vainly endeavoured to press on the strange fellow the obligations of the Court ceremonial. " D your forms and ceremonies ! " said he, impatiently. " If the King don't like my ways, he must let it alone. I did p 2 1 o Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents, not seek his acquaintance — he must take me as I am. I am a plain Yorkshireman, and if the King asks me a question in a plain manner, I shall answer him in a plain way, so that he or anybody else may understand. I can do no more." Lord Beaumont saw it was in vain to press him further in the matter, and therefore left him to follow his own course. On the following morning, Jemmy set out in his wicker- work carriage, in all the glory of drakes' necks, lambs' wool, and otter skins turned up with scarlet, to visit the King. But if the streets were crowded the day before, on this occasion they were crammed, for the news had spread that Jemmy was going in state to Court. Lord Beaumont and a couple of Horse Guards accom- panied the carriage, and with difficulty made a passage for Jemmy ; and all along the streets the windows were filled with heads. When Jemmy alighted he was conducted by Lord Beau- mont into an ante-chamber, to await the King's pleasure. The Duke of Devonshire was also waiting there for an audience with His Majesty, and on seeing this extra- ordinary fellow enter, he burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and exclaimed, "'Pon my honour ! what a scare- crow. Why, Beaumont, where did you pick up that ridiculous object ? Why have you brought such a merry- andrew here?" Jemmy listened patiently for a moment only to the Duke's exclamations and laughter, and then seizing a tumbler of water that stood on the sideboard, he dashed it in the Duke's face, exclaiming that the poor man was in hysterics : he ran to the Duke, loosed his cravat, pulled his nose, and shook him, pretending that he was yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity. 211 using his best endeavours to bring him round from his fit. At that moment a messenger came to announce that His Majesty wished to see Lord Beaumont and Mr. Hirst ; so Jemmy was ushered into the royal presence. But instead of kneeling and kissing the hand that was extended to him in silence, he caught it and gave it a hearty shake, saying, " Eh ! I'm glad to see thee such a plain owd chap. If thou ever comes to Rawclifife, step in and give me a visit. I can give thee some rare good wine, or a sup of brandy and water at ony time." The Court was convulsed with laughter, and King George III. could hardly contain himself. However, he did not laugh out openly, but with courtesy maintained his gravity, and asked Jemmy how he liked London. " I like it weel enow," answered the oddity; "but I hadn't ony idea afore yesterday and to-day there were sae mony fools in it." " Indeed ! " said the King ; " you pay us a very poor compliment, Mr. Hirst. I did not know that we were so badly off for wisdom in London. Perhaps that is an article in such demand in Yorkshire that there is none to spare for cockneys." *' Why, I'll tell thee how it were," said Jemmy. " When I come into t' toun yesterday, and to thy house to-day, the streets were full o' crowds of folks gathered as thick as owt to see me, just a cause I happ'd to be dressed different frae other folk ; and as I were waiting out yonder i' t' fore-chamber, there were one o' thy sarvants burst out laughing at me ; but I reckon I spoiled his ruffled shirt for him and punished his impertinence." The King askeJ an explanation of Lord Beaumont, 212 Yorks/nre Oddities and Incidents. and when he had heard what Jemmy had done to the Duke of Devonshire, the King laughed heartily. "Did you think to find London streets paved with gold ? " asked the King. " Mebbe I did," answered Jemmy ; " but I've found out I was mista'en. It's nowt but a mucky place, after all." " A Yorkshire bite," said his Majesty. " Aye, " answered Jemmy, " but I'm no a bite for thee." After some further conversation the King and his attendants descended to look at Jemmy's carriage, and he showed the clock for marking the distance he travelled ; the King was interested with this, and praised it as an ingenious contrivance. Jemmy then showed him the place he had made for the reception of his wine when he travelled, but which was then empty. His Majesty imme- diately ordered it to be filled with bottles from the royal cellar. As Jemmy was taking leave of the King he heard a young nobleman say to another, " What an old fool that is to wear such a hat; it is three times as large as is necessary." Jemmy turned sharply upon him and said: "I'll tell thee what, young chap, folks don't always have things aboot 'em that's necessary, or his Majesty could dispense varry weel wi' thee." Lord Beaumont gave an entertainment at which Jemmy was present, and danced with a niece of his host. He danced very well, and was very popular ; all the evening he was surrounded by a knot of young ladies and gentlemen who did their best to draw him out. But it was dangerous game, for those who attempted to play jokes on him yeinmy Hirst; art Oddity. 213 generally got the worst of it. A young man present asked Jemmy to procure him a suit of clothes like his own, as he wanted them to attend a masquerade in. Jemmy asked in what character he wished to appear. " Oh, as a clown, of course," was the answer. " Nay, then," said Jemmy, " thou'st nowt to do but go just as thou art ; nobbudy '11 mistake thee for ovvt else." "You have got your answer," said Lord Beaumont's niece, laughing, " I hope you are satisfied with it." During his stay in London, Jemmy visited the Court of Chancery, and whilst Lord Beaumont was talking to a friend, a barrister in wig and gown passing by stopped, and staring at Jemmy, said, " Holloa, my man, what lunatic asylum have you escaped from, eh ? " " Bless me ! " exclaimed Jemmy, catching Lord Beau- mont's arm ; " sithen, yonder's an owd woman i' her night- dress that's tummled out o' bed into an ink-pot, and is crawling aboot. Let's get a mop and clean her." After spending a week in the metropolis, he returned home much delighted with his visit, which furnished him with topics of conversation for a long time. Sarah, his old housekeeper, falling ill, and being unable to work. Jemmy engaged the services of a young woman from Snaith to wait upon him, and she so accommodated herself to Jemmy's whims, that she soon became a great favourite with him. He would not, however, a.llow followers about the house; and as Mary had a sweetheart, the meetings between them had to be carried on surreptitiously. However, one day whilst Jemmy was hunting, his bull tripped in jumping a fence, and fell, with Jemmy's leg under him, which was broken with compound fracture. This invalided him for some while. He had a block- 214 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. tackle fixed to a hook in the ceiling of the room, and a sling made for his leg to rest in, fastened to the lower end, and whenever he wished to alter the position of his leg, he hoisted it up or let it down with the tackle. During his illness the restraint of his observant eye was off Mary, and the sweetheart had opportunities of visiting her. One night, when Jemmy was somewhat recovered, he was sitting in the corner of his garden enjoying a pipe of tobacco, when he saw a man jump over the wall into the garden and make his way to the kitchen window, then rap with his fingers against the glass. Mary came out to him, and they spent some time in conversation together, and when they parted he promised to return and see her the following night. Jemmy heard every word that had been said, and he sat chuckling to himself, and muttered, " So thoult come agaiii to-morrow night, wilt thou ? I'll learn thee to come poaching on my preserves." Next morning, very early, Jemmy rose and dug a hole, four or five feet deep and six or seven feet long, just under that part of the garden wall where the sweetheart had clambered over the night before, and covered it all over with thin lathes and brown paper, and then sprinkled mould over it, so that it had all the appearance of solid earth. A small stream of water ran through his garden into the river. Jemmy cut a small grip from it to the hole he had dug, and filled the hole with water ; then choked the grip up and went into his house, laughing to himself at what would probably happen that night. Stationing himself at nightfall in the garden where he could not be seen, he had not long to wait before he saw a head rising above the wall, then the body of a man, and in yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity. 215 another moment the expectant lover had cleared the wall, and dropped on the covering of the pitfall. The laths and brown paper yielded to his weight, and he plunged up to his neck in water. The unfortunate young man screamed with fright, and Jemmy and Mary rushed to the spot. "Holloa, my man! what's the matter? What art a' doing i' yond water-pit ? Hast a' come to steal my apples and pears ? " Then turning to Mary, he asked if she knew him. The poor girl hesitated, but at last confessed that the young man was her sweetheart. " Well, then," said Jemmy, " help him out and get him into t' house, and let us change his clothes, for I reckon he's all over muck." The young man was brought in dripping like a water-rat. " Now, then," said Jemmy, " thou mun have a dry suit. Which wilt a' have — a pair o' my list breeches and rabbit- skin coat, or my old housekeeper's petticoats and gown ? " The young man ungallantly chose the former, thinking if he must be made ridiculous before the eyes of Mary, he would be less so in male than female attire. Jemmy gave him a glass of hot brandy-and-water, kept him talking by the kitchen fire till his clothes were dried, and then dis- missed him with permission to come to the house openly, and visit Mary as often as he liked. The young fellow became in time a great favourite with the old man, and when he married Mary, Jemmy gave him £t^o to start life with. Jemmy took it into his head to make himself a coffin, for he said he was getting old, and did not know how soon he might require one, and therefore it was best to be ready. It took him a month to construct it. It had folding-doors instead of a lid, and two panes of glass in each door ; and 2 1 6 Yo7^Tishire Oddities and Incidents. he fitted the inside with shelves for a cupboard, saying that he might as well turn it to some use whilst he was alive, and then fixed it upright in the corner of his sitting-room. Twelve months after, he had a second coffin made on the same model, but better, and with some improvements, by a joiner at Snaith, which cost him ^12. "He always wished people to believe that he made it himself; but this was not the case, for the person that made it declared to us that Jemmy enjoined him not to divulge who had made it during his lifetime."* Inside the coffin he placed a handle connected with a bell outside, so that, as he said, if he wanted anything when in his grave— shaving- water, sherry, or his boots — he would ring the bell for his servant to bring them to him. He bought a sloop, which he called *' The Bull," and made a voyage in her once as far as Boston ; but he was so sick during the passage that he could never after be per- suaded to set foot on her again, " Nay, nay," said he, " a yard of dry land is worth a mile of water." Otter-hunting on the marshes between Rawcliffe and Goole was one of his favourite pastimes. He kept a small pack of otter-hounds for the purpose. One day, when out with three dogs, near where Tun- bridge House now stands, the dogs started an otter and gave him chase. He made for a drain, and there being plenty of water in it, he dived several times. The dogs followed him in the water, and Jemmy ran along the edge waiting for him. When the otter came out close to him, Jemmy struck at him, but missed his aim and fell, owing to the mud being slippery. The otter immediately seized * " Life and Adventures of James Hirst." Knottingley : Hepworth (n.d.) yemmy Hirst ; aji Oddity. 2 1 7 him by the leg, and succeeded in dragging him into the water before the hounds could come to his assistance. A favourite dog, named Sancho, dived, and seizing the otter by the throat, forced it to release Jemmy's leg, and he reached the bank greatly shaken and exhausted. He for- tunately wore that day a thick pair of leather boots, which prevented the teeth of the otter from cutting his flesh. The other dogs had dived to the assistance of Sancho, and they brought the otter to the bank, where Jemmy clubbed it. It was the largest otter that he had ever caught, and he had the skin tanned. He kept it for two or three years, and then made a present of it to a hair-dresser who used to attend and shave him. As he was returning one night about eight o'clock from Howden, where he had been to the bank to draw some money, he was attacked by a couple of foot-pads, who probably knew where he had been. One seized the bridle of his bull, and the other took hold of Jemmy's arm and demanded his money. Jemmy suddenly drew a pistol from his pocket and fired it — according to his own account — full in the man's face, then struck spurs into the bull and galloped home. After getting assistance, he returned to the place where he had been stopped, but could find no trace of the persons who had attempted to rob him. With the assistance of the captain of his sloop, Jemmy rigged some sails to his carriage, and after a few trials of the new contrivance in the lanes about Rawcliffe, he set off one day to Pontefract with all sail set. Having a fair wind he went at a dashing speed. When he reached the town every one turned out to see the wonderful ship that sailed on dry land. But when Jemmy reached the first cross-street a puff of 21 8 Yorlishire Oddities and Incidents. wind caught him sideways, upset the carriage, and flung Jemmy through the window of a draper's shop, smashing several panes. The crowd that followed speedily righted the carriage and extricated Jemmy, who paid for the damage he had done, and led the way to the nearest tavern, where he treated the whole crowd with ale. This bounty naturally elicited great enthusiasm, which exhibited itself in pro- longed cheers, to Jemmy's great delight, for he was one of the most conceited of men. The authorities having intimated to him that he would not be allowed to sail back through the streets, the crowd yoked themselves to the carriage, and drew him triumph- antly out of the town, and would have dragged him half way to Rawcliffe had not a favourable wind sprung up, when Jemmy spread his sails again, and was blown out of sight of the crowd with expedition. He reached home without any further mishap. A friend writes to me : — " I remember Jemmy Hirst well coming to Doncaster races in his wretched turn-out, and with a bag of nuts, which he always brought with him for a scramble. He was not a very reputable individual, and must have been, I fancy, half-witted. He was wont to issue flash notes on the ' Bank of Rawcliffe,' meaning the river bank, for five farthings ; and as these bore a great resemblance to the notes issued by a banking firm in Doncaster, he was able to deceive many people with them." Among other accomplishments, Jemmy played the fiddle tolerably 'well. In winter he would collect all the boys and girls of Rawcliffe at his house in the evenings, once a week at least, when he would play the fiddle for them to dance to. At nine o'clock punctually he rang a bell and yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity. 2 1 9 dismissed them. He never would allow them to remain a minute longer. They were sent away with buns, simnel- cake, or apples. On another evening of the week he would have all the old women to tea, but he would allow no men in to have tea with him on these occasions. They were invited to come in later, and then dancing and singing began, which continued till nine, when he would dismiss them with a glass of rum or gin each. On the evenings that he wished the children to come he blew a horn thrice at his door, and six blasts of the horn assembled the old people. In his old age Jemmy was frequently laid up with gout, when he amused himself with the composition of doggerel verses, mostly about himself. They were contemptible productions, but his vanity made him suppose that he was a poet. He got these rhymes printed, and sold them for a penny to his numerous visitors, and as sometimes on a Sunday he had three or four hundred people to see him, he realised a good sum — enough to keep him for the week — from this source. Bat besides selling his verses, Jemmy used to make money by showing his coffin to visitors. He would induce them to enter the largest one, which was contrived to close upon any one inside, and hold him fast as a prisoner till released from the outside. No one once within was suffered to escape without payment — men were charged a penny, women one of their garters. In this way Jemmy ac- cumulated hundreds of garters, which he tied to his chair. They were of all sorts, from a piece of silk down to a bit of whip-cord. He used to say that he could always tell a woman's character by her garter. 2 20 Yoi^kskii^e Oddities and Incidents. His old housekeeper, Sarah, after a tedious illness, died, and then Jemmy would not suffer any one to attend him except the wife of the captain of his sloop, "The Bull," who used to live in the house with him when her husband was at sea. All his pets were sold off, except a fox which he called Charley, that was chained in the back-yard; and his pointer pigs were converted into bacon and eaten. During the last few years of his life Jemmy was confined a great deal within doors, and the neighbouring gentry used very often to visit him for the sake of old times; but he never would tolerate a visit from a clergyman. He had no religion whatever, and very little morality either. No one ever saw him inside a church or chapel, or got him to enter on religious conversation. He was visited one day when he was visibly declining by Lord and Lady Wharncliffe ; and the latter, on his swearing at the twinges of his gout, gently reproved him, pained to see how utterly indifferent he seemed to the future. " Mr. Hirst," said her Ladyship, " you should not swear ; you really ought to make some preparation for death," " Haven't I, my lady?" asked Jemmy. "I've had my coffin made these ten years." It was in vain that Lady Wharncliffe endeavoured to get him into a serious turn ; he turned off all her remarks with a bantering reply. Jemmy was subject to temporary fits of insanity, in one of which he stripped himself stark naked, and ran all round Rawcliffe. Fortunately it was night, so that there were not many people abroad ; but he nearly frightened one young fellow out of his wits as he came bounding upon him in the moonlight, round a corner. The cries of this man brought people to his assistance, and they ran after Jemmy and yemmy Hirst ; an Oddity. 221 caught him as he was stepping into a boat with the purpose of ferrying himself across the river, his mind in this dis- ordered condition returning to the event of his youth, when he rowed across to meet his poor Mary. They brought him, not without trouble, to his house, and put him to bed. What made it the more remarkable was, that he had been confined to his bed all day with gout, and could scarcely move a limb. Jemmy died on October 29th, 1829, at the age of ninety-one. By his will he left £,\2 to be given to twelve old maids for carrying him to his grave, £^ for a bagpiper from Aberdeen to play before him alternately with a fiddler to whom he also bequeathed £^^ as he was borne to the churchyard. The executors had some trouble in carrying out his wishes. The rector of Rawcliffe protested against the music being played on the occasion ; but eventually a com- promise was effected, and the piper was alone allowed to head the funeral to church, playing sacred music. Sacred music on a Scottish bagpipe ! Long before the funeral started for the church hundreds of spectators had collected in front of the house. Every- thing being in readiness, the procession moved off — the neighbouring gentry and farmers on horseback, followed by the piper ; next came the coffin, carried by six of the old maids and two men, the other six of the old maids bearing the pall. The piper played a psalm tune ; but as soon as ever the funeral was over, the fiddler met the piper at the church gates, and they struck up the tune of " Owre the hills and far awa'," followed by the crowd to Jemmy's late residence, where they received their money and were dismissed. 2 2 2 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. THE TRAGEDY OF BENINGBROUGH HALL. N 1670, Beningbrough Hall, a fine Elizabethan red-brick mansion, stood in a park near the junction of the Ouse and Nidd. The old house has been pulled down, and replaced by an edifice neat and commodious, as the guide-books would say, and we need say no more. In 1670 Beningbrough Hall belonged to a Roman Catholic family of the name of Earle. Mr. Earle, the pro- prietor, was in somewhat embarrassed circumstances, and was mixed up with some of the plots then rife. He was much away from the Hall — generally in London; but the house was full of servants, under the control of a steward, Philip Laurie, and a housekeeper, named Marian — a comely woman, just passing into middle age. One day, when Laurie was absent, two gentlemen arrived at the Hall, cloaked, with their hats drawn over their eyes, and were admitted by Marian. One of these was Mr. Earle himself, anxious to escape recognition. Who the other was did not transpire. After some con- versation with the housekeeper, Marian summoned the servants into the hall, and ordered them immediately to collect and pack the plate and pictures — everything that was of value and readily movable. Mr. Earl did not show himself — he remained in the housekeeper's room ; but his The Tragedy of Beningbrozigh Hall. 223 companion appeared, and announced that he and Marian were acting under the authority of Mr. Earle, and he read them a letter from that gentleman requiring the removal of his valuable property as the housekeeper should direct. The servants were much surprised ; but as it was known that their master was in difficulties, and as some suspicion seems to have entered their heads that he was engaged in a plot, their wonder died away ; they diligently dis- charged their duty, and everything that was required was speedily collected and stowed away in leather bags or wooden boxes in the hall. The housekeeper then dis- missed the servants, and she and the stranger conveyed the articles packed up into her room. Where were they next to be conveyed to, so as to be readily removed? Mr. Earle expected a warrant for his anest on the charge of high treason, and the confiscation of all his property. He was therefore desirous to remove all he could in time to escape to France. To avoid observation, it was advisable that his valuables should be secreted somewhere near, but not in the house. Marian then, with some hesitation, told the master that an attachment subsisted between her and the gamekeeper, a man named Martin Giles; that she could rely on his not divulging the secret, and trust him with the custody of the plate, &c., till it suited the convenience of Mr. Earle to take them away. She was accordingly despatched to the gamekeeper's cottage, and he was brought to the Hall, and as much of the secret confided to him as could not well be retained. He promised most frankly to do what was desired of him, and as he was a Roman Catholic, Mr. Earle felt satisfied that he could trust him not to betray a master who pro- fessed the same faith. 2 24 YorTishu'e Oddities and Incidents. When Philip Laurie returned he found to his surprise that the house had been stripped of everything precious. He was extremely incensed, and in an angry interview with Marian charged her with having told tales of him to her master, and so of having lost him the confidence of Mr. Earle. She did not deny that she mistrusted his honesty, unhappily recalled a circumstance he thought she knew nothing of, and took occasion to give him " a bit of her mind " 3 but she protested that she had not spoken on the subject to her master. Philip Laurie asked where the property was removed to. She refused to tell him. He swore he would know. He did not trust her story. The house had been plundered ; the opportunity had been taken when he was absent, and Marian was privy to a robbery. After violent words on both sides they parted. As he left the room the steward turned, fixing his eyes, blazing with deadly hate, upon the housekeeper, and muttered a few inarticulate words. It was not long before Laurie suspected or discovered where the valuables were secreted. Chance had thrown in his way a labourer of bad character named William Vasey, a poacher and a reputed "thief. Laurie walked through the park to the cottage of this miscreant, and it was resolved between them that the housekeeper should be murdered, and then that the lodge of the gamekeeper should be robbed. In the evening Marian was taking her accustomed walk along a beech avenue beside the Ouse. It was evening, and the red evening sky was reflected in the water, which looked like a streak of blood. The rooks were cawing and wheeling about the tree-tops, settling for the night. The Tragedy of Bcningbroiigh Hall. 225 A white owl that lived in the ivy that covered the north side of the house fleeted, ghostlike, through the gathering darkness. Marian in her white cap walked quietly in the avenue. She was a Roman Catholic, and was reciting her beads. Laurie knew that she was accustomed every evening to retire into this walk to say her rosary. At one point a beech-tree had been blown over, and had left a gap to the west, through which the faint reflec- tion of the evening sky fell, leaving the shadows beyond it in deeper gloom. For some unaccountable reason, as Marian came to this gap, instead of passing it and con- tinuing her walk, she stood still, and then turned. A second time she walked the avenue and came to this gap. A mysterious repugnance to advance caused her to hesitate halt and. Thinking that this was an unreasonable feeling, she walked on a couple of steps, and then stood still, turned round, and looked at the spot where the sun had gone down. At that moment Vasey sprang from behind a tree, anci thrust Marian over the brink. With a shriek she sank. Next morning the body was found, a part of the rosary clenched in her hand, and the other portion was discovered caught in the stump of the broken beech. Prints of a man's boots in the mud showed that IMarian had not died by accidentally falling into the water. Suspicion of the guilt of the murder fell upon Martin Giles, the gamekeeper. Laurie was in the Hall the whole time, and therefore no one supposed him implicated in the commission of the crime. The gamekeeper had behaved mysteriously for the last day or two. He had avoided his usual friends \ he had been seen privately conversing with Q 2 26 Yoi'Jcskire Oddities and Incidents. the housekeeper. Only Marian and he knew that their master had been in the house ; his presence had been con- cealed from the other servants, who only saw his companion. The removal of the valuables to the house of Giles had been accomplished by the two gentlemen with the assist- ance of the gamekeeper alone. After the valuables had been taken away, the two gentlemen in disguise had ridden off. The servants, who had noticed that there was some mystery to which Giles and Marian were privy, thought that the keeper had killed the poor woman out of dread lest she should prove an untrustworthy depositary of the secret, whatever it was. It was known also that the lovers had been accustomed to meet in the beech avenue, the place where the murder had been committed. Whilst the tide of popular indignation ran strong against the unfortunate gamekeeper, Laurie and Vasey resolved on committing the robbery — before also Mr. Earle and his companion had found means to remove the property en- trusted to his custody. At midnight Vasey and the steward went to the game- keeper's cottage. Laurie was to remain outside, and the other ruffian to enter and rob the house. They thought that Martin Giles was sure to be asleep ; but they were mistaken. The man had been sincerely attached to poor Marian, and lay tossing in bed, wondering who could have murdered her, and vainly racking his brain to discover some clue which could guide him to a solution of the mystery. As he thus lay, he thought he heard a slight sound down- stairs. But the wind was blowing, and the trees roaring in the blast ; the little diamond panes in the latticed windows clattered, and the keeper thought nothing of it The Tragedy of Beningbrottgh Hall. 227 Presently, however, he heard the latch of his door gently raised, and in the darkness he just distinguished the figure of a man entering the room. He immediately jumped out of bed, but was felled to the ground. As he struggled to rise he was again struck down, and for the moment was stunned. But he recovered consciousness almost immediately. He had fallen upon a sheep net, which lay in a heap on the floor. He quietly gathered up the net in his hands, sprang to his feet, and flinging the net over the murderer, entangled his arms so that he could not extricate himself. He wrenched the bludgeon out of his hand, and struck him over the head with it, so that he measured his length, insensible, on the floor. Had Martin only known that this ruffian had been the murderer of her who had been dearer to him than anyone else in the world, there is no doubt but the blow would have fallen heavier, and would have spared the hangman his trouble. Giles then threw open his window and fired off his gun, to alarm the inmates of the Hall. In a few minutes the servants made their appearance, amongst them Philip Laurie, with a ghastly face. A sign passed between him and Vasey, and he recovered some of his composure. The captured ruffian had assured him he would not betray his accomplice. Vasey was taken into custody, and on the following day was removed to York Castle, where he was committed for burglary with intent to commit murder. When Mr. and Mrs. Earle heard of what had taken place, the latter came with the utmost speed into Yorkshire. Mr. Earle, fearing arrest for treasonable practices, did not venture to do so. 2 28 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents, Laurie's conduct had already excited suspicion. He had not been seen issuing from the Hall on the night of the attempted robbery with the other servants, and was found on the spot fully dressed, and that not in his usual costume, but one which looked as if intended for a disguise. Mrs. Earle sent for him to her boudoir, and dismissed him from her service. As yet there was no charge suffi- ciently established against him to warrant her commit- ting him to custody ; but she added, Vasey had declared his full intention to confess before his execution. Laurie, a desperate man, flung himself on his knees, and implored his mistress not to send him away ; or if, as he heard, she was about to escape with Mr. Earle to France, would she allow him to accompany them ? ■ She indignantly thrust the wretch from her. He started to his feet, drew a pistol from his coat-pocket, and pre- sented it at her head. She struck up his hand, and the contents of the pistol shivered the glasses of a chandelier that hung in the room. He rushed out of the room, ran to his own apartment, put another pistol to his forehead, and blew his brains out. Vasey now confessed everything, and was executed at the Tyburn, outside Micklegate Ear, at York, on August iSth, 1670. It is said that at night a pale female figure is seen to steal along the bank of the Ouse, where the avenue stood in olden time, and to disappear in the churchyard of Newton, which adjoins the park, where Marian was buried. ^^^ A Yorlcshwe BtUcher. 229 A YORKSHIRE BUTCHER. HE subject of this memoir has been dead only a few years, and therefore I do not give his name, lest it should cause annoyance to his relatives. He was a tall, red-faced, jovial man, with a merry twinkle in his small eyes ; a man who could tell a good story with incomparable drollery, and withal was the gentlest, kindest-hearted man, who would never wound the most sensitive feelings by ridicule. He had a splendid bass voice, and sang in the church choir ; his knowledge of music was not inconsiderable, and for some time he was choir-master, and performed a feat fev/ other men have been able to accomplish — he was able to keep the dis- cordant elements of a choir in harmony. His inimitable tact, unvarying good nature, and readiness to humour the most self-consequential of the performers, made him vastly popular with them, and prevented or healed those jars which are proverbial among professed votaries of harmony. This worthy butcher thus narrated his courtship : — " It's a queer thing, sir, hoo things turns oot sometimes. Noo it war a queer thing hoo I chanced to get wed. I war i' Leeds once, and I'd na mair thowts aboot marrying na mair 'an nowt ; and I war just going doon t' street, tha knaws, sir, when I met wi' my wife — that's her 'at's my wife 22,0 YorksJiire Oddities and hicidcnts. noo, tha knaws, I'd kenned her afore, a piece back ; soa shoo comes oop to me, an' shoo ses, ' Why, James lad, is that thee ? ' — ' Aye,' I ses, ' it is awever.' — ' Weel, James,' ses she, ' what's ta doing wi thysen noo ? ' — ' Why,' I ses, * I's joost getten me a new hoose.' Soa wi' that she ses, 'Then I lay, James, if tha's getting a new hoose, tha'll be wanting a hoosekeeper.' Soa I ses to 'er, ses I, * Tha ma' coom and be t' wife if ta likes ; tha mawn't be t' hoose- keeper, tha knaws, but tha ma' coom and be t'wife.' And soa shoo ses, ' I ain't partikler. I don't mind if I do.' So we never had na mair to do aboot t' job." I asked him if he ever had found occasion to regret such an expeditious way of settling the matter. He shook his head and said, " Noa, sir, niver. Shoo's made a rare good wife. But shoo's her mawgrums a' times. But what women ain't got 'em ? They've all on 'em maggots i' their heads or tempers. Tha sees, sir, when a bone were took out o' t' side o' Adam, to mak a wife for 'm, 't were hot weather, an' a ble\¥-bottle settled on t' rib. When shoo's i' her tantrums, ses I to her, ' Ma dear,' ses I, ' I wish thy great-great-grand ancestress hed chanced ta be made i' winter." When he was married he took his wife a trip to Bolton, and spent a week on his honeymoon tour. As soon as he was returned home, the first thing he did was to put his wife into the scales and weigh her. Then the butcher took out his account-book, and divided the expenses of the marriage and wedding-tour by the weight of the wife. " Eh ! lass !" said he, " thou'st cost me fourteen pence ha'penny a pound. Thou'st the dearest piece o' meat that iver I bought." He had a barometer. The glass stood at set-fair, and A Yorlcshire Butcher. 2 3 1 for a whole week the rain had been pouring down. On the eighth day the glass was still telling the same tale, and the rain was still falling. Our friend lost his patience, and holding the barometer up to the window he said, " Sithere, lass ! thou'st been telling lees. Dost thou see how it's pouring ? I'll teach thee to tell lees again ! " And he smashed the glass. He was laid up with gout. The doctor had tried all sorts of medicines, but nothing seemed to profit him. At last the medical man said, " Try smoking. I daresay smoking would do you a deal of good." " Ah," said the wife, " it's possible it might. But thou seest, doctor, chimleys is made so narrow nowadays that one cannot hang un up i' t' reek (smoke) as one did wi' one's bacon i' bygone days." His wife was dying. She was long ill, and during her sickness was always exclaiming, " Eh ! I'm boun' to dee. It win't be long afore I dee. I shan't be long here " — and the like. Our jolly butcher heard these exclamations day after day, and said nothing. At last he got a little im- patient over them, and said one day, as she was exclaiming as usual, " O dear ! I'm goin' to dee ! " — " Why, lass, thou'st said that ower and ower again a mony times. Why doan't thou set a time, and stick to it ? " On another occasion his wife slightly varied the tune to " Eh ! the poor bairns ! What will become o' t' bairns when I dee ? Who will mind t' bairns when their mother is dead ? " "Never thee trouble thy head about that," said her husband ; " go on wi' thy deein'. I'll mind t' bairns." He was going to York with his son, a boy of eighteen. He took a ticket for himself and a half-one for the boy. 232 YorlisJiire Oddities and Incidents. When the train drew near to York, the ticket-collector came round, and exclaimed at this half- ticket, " Where's the child ?" " Here," said the butcher, pointing to the tall, awkward youth. "What do you mean?" asked the indignant ticket- collector. " He ain't a child ; he's a young man ! " " Ah ! so he is, now," answered the butcher ; " but that's thy fault, not mine. I know when we got in at Wakefield he were nobbut a bairn; but tha'st been going so con- founded slow that he's grovved sin' we started ! " Many years ago, on a rare occasion, James took a glass too much. It was the last time such a misfortune took place with him. His clergyman was obliged to speak to him about it, and in so doing said—" You know, James, beasts do not get drunk." "There's a deal o' things belonging to all things," answered the worthy butcher, who never suffered himself to be cornered. " If a horse were o' one side o' a pond, and another on t' other side, and t' first horse ses to t' other, ' Jim, I looks towards ye ! ' and the t' other ses to the first, 'Thank y' kindly, Tom ; I catches your eye.' And the first horse ses again, ' Tha'll tak' another sup, lad, and drink ma health '; the second will be sewer to say, ' I will, and I'll drink to lots o' your healths.' Why, sir, them two horses will be nobbin to one another iver so long. Lor bless ye ! them two horses win't part till they's as drunk as Christians." James at one time was not well off. He had a brother whom we will call Tom, who had some money. Now James happened to hear that his brother was very ill, and as they had not latterly been very good friends, he A YorJcsMre Butcher. 233 was afraid lest, if Tom died, he would not leave him his money. So he immediately set off to his brother's house, and on his arrival found him ill in bed. He went up to the room in which his brother lay, and began — " Weel, Tommy, an' hoo art a' ?" " Oah, James ! " said Tom, "I'se vara bad. I thinks I's boun' to dee." " Eh ! " said James, *' well, mebbe tha'lt outlive me, Tommy ; I nobbut feels vara middlin' mysen. I hain't felt weel for a long while, and I war just thinking, Tommy, o' sending to Mr. Smith, t' lawyer, to mak' me a bit o' a will, tha knaws. Hast a' made thy will, Tommy ? " " Noa," said Tom, " I hain't ; but I war thinking wi thee, James, o' sending for Lawyer Smith. Noo, hoo wast a' thinking o' making thy will, James ? " " Weel, tha knaws. Tommy," said James, " mebbe thou and me hain't lately been vara particklers ; but I war thinking it ever owt ta be, ' Let bygones be bygones ' ; and soa I was thinking o' leaving my bit o' brass to thee. Noo, Tommy, hoo wast a' thinking o' leaving thy money ? " " Why," said Tommy, " as thou'st been sa good as leave thy money ta me, I think it wadn't be reet if I didn't do t' same by thee, and leave thee my money." " Weel," said James, " I think thou couldn't do better ; and soa let's send for Mr. Smith to mak' oul- wills, and I think mebbe, Tommy, t/iou'd better ha' thy will made fust" So these two men sent for the lawyer to make their wills. Tommy's was made first, and a very few days after he died. His money then came to James, who in reality was not ill in the least, but had only pretended to be so. One of James the butcher's sayings I well remember. 2 34 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. He was addressing a young man who was courting a girl, and was very hot and eager in his pursuit of her. "I'll gi'e thee a bit o' advice, Joa : Don't bother to shuttle a happle-tree to get t' fruit; tak' it easy; wait, and t' apples will fall into thy lap o' their selves. Don't go coursing over hedges and threw ditches after rabbits ; wait a bit, and t' rabbits 'all come into thy springes without trouble. Don't take on running after t' lasses ; take it easy, and thou'lt find, Joa lad, that t' lasses will run after thee." At one time James rented some land of a neighbouring gentleman of large fortune and estates who was well known for his hospitality. James was invited with other tenants to dine on Court day at the Hall, and dinner was served up in the best style. On his return home to his wife, he gave her an account of it. " Eh ! Phoebe, but it wad ha' capped owt. There were beef and mutton, and chickens and game, and ivery thing one could think of. I's sewer I were fair an' bet wi' it all ; but what bet ma raoast o' all were 'at we'd ivery one on us a small loaf lapped up i' a clout." Liqueurs were handed round after dinner. Our good friend took his little glass of the, to him, unknown tipple, and after drinking it off at one gulp, and considering a while, turned round to the waiter and said, " John, bring us some o' this 'ere i' a moog." At a club dinner, a wedding breakfast, or a funeral lunch, James was overflowing with anecdotes. He was generally the hero of his stories ; but I do not believe that they all in reality happened to himself. The stories often told against the principal actor in them, and therefore he may have thought it legitimate to appropriate to himself tales which made him appear in a ludicrous light. A Yorltshire Butcher. ■OD I can only remember a few of these stories. " It was one night in November last that I and my wife Phcebe was sitting tawking i' t' house. It were a dark night, as black as Warren's best. Now I mun tell thee that our Rachel Anne — that's our grown-up daughter — were at that age when they mostly likes to ha' a sweetheart. Shoo'd gotten a young man. I don't like to name names, but as we're all friends here, I don't mind saying he were a downright blackguard. It were old Greenwood's son, tha knaws ; t' lad as were locked up by t' police for boiling a cat. Well, Rachel Anne were mad after him, and nother her mother nor I liked it. We were nicely put out I promise you. "To go on wi' my tale. Phoebe and I was sitting by t' fire, when all at once I ses to my old woman, ' Phoebe lass, where's Rachel Anne ? Shoo's not at home I reckon.' " ' Nay, James lad' said she, * shoo's at a confirmation class.' " * At a confirmation !' said I, and I whistled. * I thowt confirmation was ower.' " * Ah ! I dunnow sure ; but that's what shoo said.' " ' Is owd Greenwood's son, Jim, going to confirmation class too?' *' ' I cannot tell,' shoo said. " * No more can I,' said I ; * but I'd like to know?' " * So should I,' said she. " 'Win't thee look out o' chamber window and see if there's a leet i' t' school?' said I. So my owd woman went upstairs and looked, and when shoo came doun, ' No, there ain't,' said she. " ' I thowt not,' said I. 236 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. " Well, we sat by t' fire some while, and then my owd lass went into back kitchen to get a bit o' supper ready. Shoo hadn't been there long afore slioo come back and said, 'James, lad!' " * Ah ! ' says I ; ' what's up ?' " * Why, this,' says she ; ' there's summun i' t' back yard.' " ' How dost a' know?' says L " Says she, ' I heard 'em taukin ; and there's a lanthorn there.' " 'There's impidence !' says I. 'Who is they?' " ' I think Rachel Anne is one,' says Phoebe. " ' And Jim Greenwood is t' other,' says I ; ' and I'm glad on't.' " ' Lor ! ' says Phcebe. " ' Lass,' says I, ' I'll pay yond chap out, I will, I'll go out by t' front door, and I'll come on him, and I'll let him know what I think of him, coming arter our Rachel Anne. And when I've gotten howd on him, I'll hollow. Then do thou run out o' t' back door, and I'll howd him tight, and thou can poise him behind as much as thou like. Since we've been man and wife these fourteen year,' says I, ' we've taken our pleasure in common,' says I. ' We've been to Hollingworth Lake together,' says 1. ' And we've been to Southport together,' says I. 'And wunce we went together to t' exhibition i' Wakefield together. So,' says I, ' we'll ha' the kicking, and the shuttling, and the rumpling up o' yond lad o' Greenwood's together. O glory ! ' And then I run out o' t' front door as wick as a scoprill,* and came shirking round towards t' back door i' t' yard. Well, t' night were dark, but I could see there were some folks there, and I could see the glint o' a lanthorn, * As lively as a teetotum. A Yorkshire Bidcher. 237 and t' leet from t' back kitchen window came on a bit o' gownd, and I know'd it belonged to Rachel Anne. " ' Drat him !' said I to mysen, ' what is lasses coming to next, when they brings their young men under the noses o' their parents wot can't abear them ?' " So I came sloping up along the wall till I was quite near. Will you believe it ? — her young man, that's owd Greenwood's lad Jim, was sitting as easy as owt i' a chair. '* ' Oh, you charmer ! ' says Rachel Anne. I heard her voice. I know'd it were she. ' You're near perfect now !' " ' Oh lawk ! ' thinks I, ' there's no accounting for tastes.' Jim he ain't ower much o' a beauty, I promise thee. He's gotten a cast i' one o' his eyes, and when he washes his face he's gotten a black stock on; and when he don't, why, then he's all o' a muck, face and neck alike. " ' Can I get thee owt ? ' says Rachel Anne, as shameless as owt. * Ah ! tha wants a pair o' boots. I reckon father's gotten an owd pair he win't miss. I'll get them for thee.' Then sudden, as she was going away to t' back door, she turns and says, 'My! he ain't got no pipe. I mun get him one o' father's.' " ' Oh ye abandoned profligate ! ' groaned I, ' robbing thy parents to bestow all on this owdacious waggabone ! But I'll be even wi' thee ! I'll let my fine gentleman know the looks o' my back-yard ! I'll let un ha' a taste o' my baccy ! I'll let un know the feel o' my boots ! ' " Father's breeches fit un rare ! ' said Rachel Anne. " Well, now ! if that warn't too much. I yelled — " * Ah ! ye dirty waggabone ! Thou stealing rascal ! Thou cock-eyed raggamuffin ! ' And I wor upon him in no time. I caught un by t' neck and shook un furious. I wor nigh brussen wi' rage. He were fair down capped, and 238 Yorlcshire Oddities and Incidents. said nowt. But, as you'll see presently, he were gathering up his rage for a reglar outbust. He were nigh brussen too. " ' Well,' says I, ' wot is't a doing here ! I knows ! Thou'rt arter my Rachel Anne. Well. Tha'lt never marry my daughter if I can help it. Ill never own thee wi' thy ugly face for a son-in-law. I win't run the chance o' a cock-eye i' my grand-children. If my dowter will ha' thee, I'll disown her ; I win't speak to her again.' Then I shook him. ' Take that,' says I, and I gave him a blow o' the fist on his nose, and I reckon I flattened it in. * Dost a' like it ? ' says I. * Take another taste — a little stimu- lant will do thee good.' Then I kicked un off t' chair, and dragged him up, and shook, and shook, and shook him till I were all of a muck wi' sweat. So I hollered to my Phoebe. ' Phoebe, lass ! come and poise un i' t' rear. I'll hold un i' position.' Well, she came out, and she gave him a crack. " ' Now,' says I, ' I'd like to look i' thy ugly face and- take stock o' t' damages. I've done thy beauty. Phoebe lass ! give me t' candle.' Shoo went to t' lanthorn, and browt out t' candle and gave it to me. "Jim Greenwood hung all limp, like old clothes i' my hand, and never spoke. But I didn't know what fire and fury was in him then. He wor just one o' them chaps as endures what you may say and do up to a certain point, but when that point is passed, then — Lor' ! ' • " I took t' candle from my owd woman — that's my wife I mean, tha mun know — and I held it afore me. Lor-a- mussy, I were flayed ! I let go hold, and let t' candle tumble on Jim — that's owd Greenwood's son, tha knows — and I stood shakin' i' all my limbs. I'd smashed his nose right A Yoi'Ji shire Btitcher, 239 in \ I'd broken t' bridge and knocked it in, and there weren't newt on it remaining. And his eyes — Lor ! I hadn't time to think, for I had passed t' point, and t' chap couldn't Stan' no more. I'd let t' candle fall on him, and set him on fire. Folks don't over much like being set fire to — leastways owd Greenwood's son didn't ; for he did blaze, and bang, and fizz, and snap, and crackle away ! He reglar exploded, he did ! I stood in a sort o' maze like — I were dazed. Phoebe screamed. And then came a great haw-haw from my boys, who were all there. I could see 'em now by t' leet o' t' burning sweetheart. ' Lor, father ! " said Rachel Ann, as innocent as owt, * What hast a' been doing to our Guy Fawkes ? ' "Well, sir, will you believe it? — it was nowt but a Guy Fawkes full o' straw and squibs and crackers 'at I'd in- voluntarily set on fire." This story was told, scarcely above a breath, during a missionary meeting, whilst a colonial bishop was addressing us. James did not laugh himself — was as grave as was proper on the occasion ; but his little eyes twinkled roguishly, and those who could hear the whispered tale with difficulty restrained their laughter. " I think I can tell you summut as happened to my brother Tommy," said James, after we had sung " From Greenland's icy mountains," and were walking at a judicious distance from the colonial bishop. " Well, my brother Tom were a rare bird to drink. He'd been to t' Horse and Jockey one day, and had supped enough beer for once, and when he came out aboot half after ten, he warn't ower clear as to t' direction he sud go. Howm'ever, he took t' loin (lane) all right. Presently there come some one along t' road. ' Now,' thowt he, ' I man keep clear o' he, or he'll 240 Yorla shire Oddities and Incidents. run hissel' again' me, and knock me down.' T' mooin were up, just settin', and castin' shadows ; so he made a great roundabout to avoid lurching again' t' man as were comin' along ; but seeing his shadow, ma brother mistook that for t' man, and thowt t' shadow had cast t' feller. So he tried to step ower t' chap and avoid t' shadow. As tha mun see, he came wi' a crack again t' chap. " ' Ye druffen rascal,' said he, giving ma brother a bang on t' lugs (ears) as made his head spin. " ' It's thy fault,' said Tom. ' What dost a' mean by having a standing-up shadow and solid too ? ' " The chap gives him another crack and tumbles him down. When ma brother got up again he went on his road again, saying to hissel', ' I winna go blundering again' no more shadows to-night if I see anybody coming.' Just then he thowt he saw another chap ; so to get out o' his way he turned into a field by a gate to let un pass. Now, ma brother had a little too much beer in his head ; soa when he got into t' field he couldn't get out again. He rambled round and round, and t' mooin went down. " 'Weel,' ses he, 'I don't care; I'll sleep where I am.' And he ligs him down on t' ground. He hadn't been long asleep afore he wakened wi' cold. T' dews o' neet came falling on him and wetted him, and his teeth were chatter- ing ; so then he opened his eyes. And what dost a' think he seed ? Why, standing above him were a hawful form as black as a crow. His legs was crooked, his arms was spread, and Tom could see claws on his fingers. His face were like nowt earthly j and he had bristling hair, and great horns like a coo. Tom could see t' glint o' his wicked een fixed on him. " Weel, now, Tommas weren't that sort o' chap exackly A Yorkshwe Butcher. 241 as' might flatter hissen angels 'ud come after him out o' heaven ; so the thowt came on him it were t' owd chap come to fetch his soul to t' other place. " Tom lay quite still. He thowt t' owd chap mebbe would let un lig a while if he shammed sleep. He wouldn't be so unmannerly as to wake unupfor the purpose o' takin' him away. Tha knaws t' oud chap war' a gem'man once, tho' he's fallen a bit sin'. Yet what's born i' t' bone comes out i' t' flesh — leastwise so Tom thowt. " Soa Tom lay quiet. But presently he thowt he felt t' owd chap's fingers feeling in his pocket for four and two- pence he'd gotten aboot him somewhere. Soa Tom turned round sudden on him and ses, ' Tha mun tak ma soul if tha's boun' to do soa; but I'll trouble thee to let t' four and twopence aloan.' " Ah ! he war' a deep one war' t' owd chap. As sharp as owt, when Tom turned on un, he were standing up stiff and unconcerned, and looking t' other way. " Nah, as Tom had spoken, 't want no use his pretending any more to be asleep. So he thowt, ' What am I to do next ? Tha mun do more we traycle than tha' can wi' brimstone. I'll soap un down a bit.' " Then Tom opens his eyes and looks at un and ses, ' Owt fresh ? ' But he wouldn't answer, and reveal the mysteries o' his shop. " So Tom ses, ses he, * I reckon tha'st coom a rare long way, and it's thirsty work walking, or flying, or travelling by train, or whichiver way tha hast comed. And,' ses he, ' I tak it vara civil o' thee to come for me. There's ma owd woman grummles if shoo's to come for ma to t' Horse and Jockey, and that's half a mile from my home. And mebbe tha's comed for me five thousand mile. It's vara civil. It's R 242 Yoj'kshire Oddities and Incidents. not like a north countryman that,' ses he. ' We are out- spoken folk, and there ain't much civility among us, but hard rubs. But I won't be outdone by a south country- man i' civility. I daresay tha'rt dry. Tha'll stop a bit, and I'll fetch thee a sup o' home-brewed beer.' *' Soa Tom gets up on his feet, and away he goes as wick as a scoprell, and gets home, and dashes in at t' door. There were Sarah Anne, his wife, as red as a turkey-cock, and swollen fit to brussen wi' he getting home so late. " But Tommy he out wi' it at once. ' Sarah Anne, lass ! run and get a jug o' beer and a mug, and off wi' thee as fast as tha' can to t' owd chap — he waiting for thee.' He thowt, tha knaws, to get t' owd chap to tak' t' wife instead of he. But Sarah Anne she up wi' her fist and knocked him down as flat as ginger- beer as has had t'cork out a fort- night. ' Ah, James,' ses ma brother to me, ' I've tried to send ma owd woman to t' owd chap, but shoo winna go. Tha' mun tak' a horse to t' water, but tha canna mak' un drink.' " Weel, next morning ma brother Tom hoo went to look at f place where he was i' t' neet, and there he see'd t' owd chap still. . . . But by day leet — what dost a' think ? — he was nowt but a flaycrow (scarecrow)." The Old Yorks/m^e Tyke. 243 THE OLD YORKSHIRE TYKE. |AIN to Clapham Toon-end lived an owd Yark- shire tyke, Who i' dealing i' horse-flesh had ne'er met his like; 'T wur his praade that i' all the hard bargains he'd hit, He had bit a vast mony, but ne'er had been bit. This owd Tommy Towers (by that name he wur known) Had an owd carrion tit that wur a' skin and boan ; To have killed un for t' dogs 't would ha' been just as well, But 't was Tommy's opinion he'd dee o' hissel'. One Abraham a Muggins, a neeborin cheat, Thowt to diddle owd Tommy would be a great treat ; He'd a horse that wur w^aur nor old Tommy's, d'ye see, 'Cause the neet before that he'd thowt proper to dee. Says Abram, " T' owd codger will never smoke trick, A'll swop him my dead horse for his as is wick, And if that t' owd codger a happen to trap, 'Twill be a rare feather i' Abraham's cap." So to Tommy he goes, and this question he pops, *' 'Twixt ma horse and thine, prithee Tommy, what swops ? What'll gie me to boot ? for mine's t' better horse still." " Nowt," says Tommy; "a'll swop even hands it tha will." 244 Yorkshire Oddities and Iiicide7its. Old Abraham tried hard about sum mat to boot, Insisting as his wur the livelier brute ; But Tommy stuck fast where he once had begun, And Abraham shook hands, and said, "Done, Tommy, done ! " " Eh, Tommy," says Abraham, " a's sorry for thee ; A' thowt thou'd a gotten more white i' thee e'e. Good luck to thy bargain, for ma horse is dead." " Aye," says Tommy, " so's mine ; and what's more, he's fleed (flayed)." So Tommy got t' better o' t' bargain a vast. And came off wi' a Yorkshireman's triumph at last ; For thof 'twixt deed horses there's nane much to choose, Yet Tommy wur better by t' hide and four shoes. The One-Potmd Note. 245 THE ONE-POUND NOTE.* AMUEL SUTCLIFFE lived at Hebden Hay, or Hawden Hole, about a quarter of a mile west of Newbridge, nearly at the bottom of the steep slope which descends from White- hill Nook to the river Hebden. The house is still standing, easy to be recognised by its whitewash, and by the yew-tree which grows between the door and the path leading to Upper Hepton and Tommy Rocky's. Beside the farm-house there is under the same roof a cottage at the east end. In the field at the west end, and below the * The circumstances of the murder and the discovery of the murderer were collected with great care by th6 brother of a friend of the author, now dead, and were communicated by him to the Hebden Bridge Chronicle in 1856. The papers of the compiler have been kindly sent to the author, and placed at his disposal. The facts of this extra- ordinary story were collected partly from individuals, now surviving, who lived in the neighbourhood at the time, especially from one who was a principal witness at the trial at York, and partly from docu- ments. Of the latter the principal are a good report of the trial given in the Leeds Mercury of Saturday, March 22nd, 1817, and a confession by the condemned parties, drawn up in the usual style of confessions, and printed at Leeds for the purpose of being hawked about the streets. T\vQ Manchester Mercury ciTMft.ATi.y, March i8th, 1817, gives a short account of the trial and condemnation of the prisoners, and concludes with a confession of the principal prisoner ; being a long verbatim extract from the confession printed at Leeds for sale by hawkers. One of the official books belonging to Heptonstall church contains a copy of the charge of the judge to the jury at York, taken verbatim from the Leeds Mercury of March 22nd, 246 YorJcskire Oddities and Incidents. house, stretching down to the stream, were formerly some mounds, where it was said that the Heptonstall people during the plague buried their dead. Crabtree says (p. 15) : ** Of that dreadful epidemic, the plague, one hundred and seventeen persons are said to have died at Heptonstall in 1631, several of whom were buried at home, but all entered in the register there." In the old barn near the house, pulled down a few years ago, since 181 7, an old man cut his throat. The yew-tree is no inapt symbol of the melan- choly associations of this secluded spot — a cemetery, a suicide, and a murder. Samuel Sutcliffe, commonly called Sammy o' Kattie's, lived there to the age of eighty, a bachelor. He was a manufacturer of worsted pieces, and for several years farmed the small farm. The only person living with him was his nephew, William Sutcliffe. On Saturdays, some- times the uncle, sometimes the nephew, attended Halifax market ; sometimes both. On Saturdays, towards evening, the old man might have been seen crossing the old bridge at Hebden Bridge, and calling at the " Hole-in-the-Wall " to take a single glass of ale and hear the news, while he gave himself a very brief rest after his walk from Halifax, before passing on. He was a stout, active man for his age ; sober, steady, and industrious ; and by economy, but with- out penuriousness, had saved a considerable sum of money. The cottage adjoining Sammy's dwelling was inhabited by a weaver named William Greenwood. For five or six years the nephew, William Sutcliffe, had carried on a little business in the fustian trade on his own account ; and for two years he had the take of the farm, on which he kept a couple of cows. His business led him to travel into Lancashire, Craven, and even Westmorland. The One-Potind Note. 247 His journeys were taken three times a year : he started on Monday morning, and returned usually on Friday evening, sometimes on Saturday. He left Hawden Hole on one of these journeys on Monday, February 3rd, 1817, and -was this time expected home on the Thursday night following, but circumstances prevented his return till the Saturday. The name of the murderer was Michael Pickles, commonly designated " Old Mike." He lived at North- well, near Heptonstall, on the road leading from Hep- tonstall by New Bridge to Havvorth. His cottage, since pulled down, was of one story : it contained two rooms — one towards the valley and the township of Wadsworth, into which the door entered, formed the dwelling or "house;" the other, trenching back into the hill-side, was called the ''"shop," and contained the looms. Some portion of the walls of the shop are still visible. Approached from the road, Old Mike's cottage stood a little below and a little beyond the principal house now standing at Northwell. A small garden was attached, in the walls of which are still to be seen the recesses which contained Mike's bee-hives. The plump-looking navel-wort, possibly introduced by him, may be seen peeping from crevices in the walls. Like Hawden Hole, Northwell has also its characteristic tree. The sombre Scotch pine which stands prominently forward in front of Northwell is in the corner of Mike's garden, and is said to have been planted by him. He lived at this cottage fifteen years. His age was forty-one. He is described as a strong, broad-set, but not a tall man, with rather dark hair, pale, cadaverous face, no whiskers, and large rolling eyes. He was left-handed, his hands being very large : he often made exhibition of the power of his 248 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. left hand in grasping and crushing anything placed within it, in which exploit he surpassed all competitors. He had a very large flat foot; his knees inclined very much inwards. He had the reputation of being " double- jointed," whatever may be meant by that term. His occupation was sometimes that of weaving at Northwell, sometimes of gardening for his neighbours, but more frequently that of an out- door labourer in dry-walling, and especially in constructing, of large stones, what is called " weiring," for preventing the river-edge from encroaching on the neighbouring fields ; for which his great strength qualified him. He had the reputation of being light- fingered. In dressing the gardens of his neighbours he not unfrequently helped himself to some of the contents. His house was generally very well supplied with milk in sum- mer, which was considered to have been obtained by milking the cows in the fields. Above all, he had the reputation of stealing bee-hives, to which the fact of his being a bee-keeper was a sort of cover. As a gentleman was one night riding along the " Needless Road " when not quite dark, he and his horse were suddenly startled, on coming in view of the steep field stretching from that road up to Northwell, by the sight of a strange figure moving slowly and heavily up the field : it was Mike with his not uncommon night burden, a hive of bees on his head. Another gentleman, stopping late at Kebcote inn because of the rain, saw Mike and a companion take shelter there about an hour after midnight, the former being loaded with the customary "hive-piche" on his head. In the floor of his house, under the bed, he had excavated a secret hiding- place for stolen goods, covered by a movable flag-stone. The paving before his door had been raised by the earth The One-Pound Note. 249 taken from this so-called " cave." Notwithstanding these dishonest practices, Mike made a considerable profession of religion. He was a joined member at Birchcliffe Chapel, having, with his wife, received adult baptism. Whether he was originally sincere in his profession and afterwards fell away, is more than doubtful when we consider that, not- withstanding his mal-practices, he continued to make great religious profession. In conversation he would expound at large the doctrines of Christianity. To approach him with the view of holding short discourse with him on general topics while he was gardening for you, was to incur the risk of a sermon from him. He fetched milk from old Sammy's at Hawden Hole, and was in the habit of sitting and conversing with him, not unfrequently of reading to him during the long evenings. They had been acquainted many years. Mike's accomplice was John Greenwood, a weaver, a tallish, slender man, aged twenty-nine years, with lightish hair, whose features gave the impression of a weak and un- decided, rather than a depraved and wicked disposition. His characteristic want of firmness rendered him the easy dupe of any deeper adept in villany who might throw temptation into his way. It is believed that he would not have been connected with the murder but for the persua- sion of Mike. His character does not appear to have lain under any suspicion, although, as his confession afterwards showed, he was already addicted to dishonest practices. He and Mike married sisters. He lived in a cottage attached to a remote farm in Wadsworth called Bog-eggs, above Old Town, a little below the moorland prominence called Tomtitiman from which so noble a prospect of this district may be obtained. His cottage, now unoccupied, 250 YorksJiire Oddities and Incidents. forms the upper part of the building at Bog-eggs, being con- tiguous to the farm-house. On Thursday, the 6th of February, 1817, "Joan o' t' Bog-eggs " went over to Northwell to try to obtain some money from Old Mike, saying that he was "pined." Times were very hard just now, and doubtless there was much suffering among the poor. Flour was selling at eight shillings per stone, and meal at four and sixpence to five shiUings. Old Mike said that he had no money, but that he knew of a place where they could get some. This was just the sort of temptation in which Joan's weak principles were likely to fail ; and Mike was exactly the sort of man to attempt to turn Joan's infirmities to his own advantage. Mike's plausible speech soon prevailed over Joan's scruples ; and it was agreed that that night they should sally forth and rob Old Sammy. On Thursday evening, February 6th, 1817, "Old Mike" and " Joan o' t' Bog-eggs " were sitting by Old Mike's fire- side at Northwell. The night was wearing late, and the family had been sometime in bed. It was clearly under- stood between Mike and Joan, that after waiting till the hour was sufficiently advanced, they should sally out and rob " Sammy o' Kattie's." The hour agreed upon was midnight. Mike was smoking his pipe, and thinking over the circumstances of the intended burglary. Simple, un- thinking Joan had fallen asleep under the influence of the warm fire. At length the clock struck twelve, and Mike aroused his companion, saying, " Come, it's time to be going." They took with them Mike's gun, and left the house, proceeding towards Whitehill Nook, along a field called Adcock, which is to the left of and above the public road leading to Whitehill Nook. They then travelled down The One-Pound Note. 25 1 the steep rough wood to Hawden Hole. Thrice Joan's heart failed him as he thought of the possible conse- quences to them both of the meditated robbery. Re- assured by Mikes arguments, he proceeded to Old Sammy's. Half-past twelve was the hour for the moon to rise ; but the night was cloudy, though without rain. Arrived at the house, Joan is placed as sentry before the door, with the gun in his hand, being directed to shoot any person who should offer interruption. Mike, perfectly familiar with the premises, took out a window at the west end of the house. There was more than one window at that end. He took out the larger one, being that nearest to the river. He then entered the house, and undid the door, and opened it. Besides a lock, the door was also fastened by a stout wooden bar placed across it, with the ends inserted in holes in the masonry. Coming out of the house through the now opened door, he fastened the door of William Greenwood, the neighbouring cottager, by placing the wooden bar across the doorway, and fastening the latch to the bar with string. Probably they both entered Sammy's cottage. Mike mounted the stairs into the room where Old Sammy was sleeping alone. About a month before, the old man had bought a small oak box, in which he placed such of his papers and documents as were of value, and most of his money. The box was placed in a bucket which stood in one corner of his bedroom. Mike secured this bucket, with its contents. Three cotton pieces and four warps were also taken from the bedroom : the pieces were marked by William Greenwood. A coat- cloth, and a pair of shoes belonging to William Sutcliffe, which wanted soling, were also taken away, and a new shirt of Sammy's. 252 Yorlcshire Oddities and Incidents, But old men sleep lightly. Before these things were secured and got away, Sammy awoke. Sitting up in bed to listen, he heard footsteps in the house. He endeavoured to alarm his neighbour in the adjoining cottage, and called out, " William ! William ! William ! " Fearful of being disturbed or detected, Mike approached the bed and seized his old friend and companion by the throat with his terrible left hand. Gripping him as in a vice, he held him down ; nor did he quit his grasp till the spark of life was extinguished. William Greenwood was disturbed during the night. He fancied he heard a noise in Sammy's house, but could not be sure. He called out, but received no answer. He con- jectured that the old man might be talking in his sleep ; at any rate, he took no more notice of the matter, and fell asleep again. The wind was very strong, and roared terribly in the yew-tree. Probably the noise which he heard was Sammy's voice calling out *' William '' the third and last time. The silence which ensued was, as Mr. Hardy eloquently described it at York, " the silence of death." I have a short document drawn up at Halifax for the satisfaction of William Sutcliffe, on the 17 th or iSth of February, 181 7, that he might possess some account of the manner of his uncle's last struggles, in which is recorded the substance of what Mike confessed on the subject at Halifax, February 17th. It is as foUow^s : — "The further examination of William Sutcliffe, of Hawden Hole, in Hep- tonstall, who saith that on Monday, the 17th day of February, 18 17, Michael Pickles, the prisoner, told this examinant that after he had entered the dwelling-house of his late uncle, Samuel Sutcliffe, and had got into the bed- The One-Pound Note. 253 room, the said Samuel Sutcliffe rose up on the bed and called out, * William ! William ! William ! ' on which the said Michael Pickles seized the said Samuel Sutcliffe by the throat, and heard no more from him, except that he sobbed, as it was soon over with him, and he bore very little. And saith that the cause of his asking the question of the said Michael Pickles as to his uncle's death was to know what his said uncle said previous to his death, and if he suffered much." Mike now descended the stairs, and greatly alarmed his companion by telling him he was afraid he had killed Sammy. Leaving the bucket outside the house, they made off to Northwell with their booty — the cotton pieces, the warps, the shoes, the coat-cloth, the shirt, and, above all, the oak box with its contents. Having arrived at Northwell, Mike deposited the cotton pieces and warps in the hiding-place under the flag-stone. Joan took the shoes. The oak box they at once burnt to prevent detection, but preserved the contents. Mike told his wife he was afraid he had killed Sammy, and she began to cry. He also charged Joan to keep it a secret, even from his wife, for his revealing it would cause them both to be hanged. In dividing the money Joan contrived to take advantage of his more crafty companion ; for he pocketed one note unknown to Mike. Mike's " Confession " says respecting the remaining notes — " John Greenwood took the guinea-note, and gave me the two Bank of England notes, and I gave him nine shillings and sixpence in silver, which made it equal — one pound ten shillings and sixpence each." William Sutcliffe in his evidence at York said that on going from home on Monday, February 3rd, " he left his 2 54 ^ ^orkshire Oddities and Incidents. uncle four one-pound notes and some silver, to pay wages with in his absence. His uncle had also some notes of his own; among others, one of Mytholm Bank, which had been issued without the signature of Turner, Bent, and Co. It was No. 63. His attention had been called to this note on the ist of February (the preceding Saturday); his uncle had brought it down-stairs in an old book : there were also in this book another pound-note and a guinea-note " — in all seven notes. William Sutcliffe on his return said that Sammy's three notes were pinned in a ready reckoner, Now, on examining the house the following morning, among some loose papers in the window down-stairs, there were found three one-pound notes which had escaped the notice of the robbers. These three which were left being added to the four which Mike and Joan took away, made seven notes. It would seem that Sammy had separated one of William's four notes from the remaining three ; that this note he had placed in his box up-stairs with the three notes belonging to himself; and that thus his three notes and one of William's were taken away, while three of William's notes had been left in the pocket-book in the window down-stairs. The note which Joan appropriated to himself, unknown to Mike, was the unsigned Mytholm note. Had this note fallen into Mike's hands, he would probably have observed the danger arising from the circum- stance, and destroyed the note ; but the ignorant and un- suspecting Joan was not aware of the danger. There was at this time a set of men in the Cragg valley who went by a bad name. In order to shift the suspicion of the murder and robbery from himself and Mike, Joan, on his way home to Bog-eggs, instead of crossing the valley at Foster Mill, travelled down towards Mytholmroyd, and The One-Pound Note. ■DO crossing the Calder at Can Bridge, threw down the papers and documents obtained from Sammy's box at Carr Green, hoping thereby to induce suspicion that some of the Cragg band were the robbers and murderers. And now for the events of the following morning. During the week Sammy had paid some money for work to a man named James Greenwood, of Lobbmill ; but a balance of four shillings was left unpaid. Before daylight on Friday morning James Greenwood presented himself at Sammy's door, having come for his four shillings. He was surprised to find the door wide open. This excited his fears that some mischief had taken place during the night. He knocked at William Greenwood's door, stated the suspicious circumstance, and desired him to come out. On attempting to do so, he found that the door would not open. James Greenwood then discovered (it was still dark) that the door was fastened by means of the wooden bar. It was now discovered that Sammy's house had been entered by robbers through the window, and that he lay lifeless in his bed. His mouth was full of blood, and some had run out upon the bed-clothes. The empty bucket was found outside the door. William Greenwood, who had seen Sammy at half-past ten the night before in good health, looked for the cotton pieces which he had taken in the previous day, but they were gone. He observed one footstep leading to the window which had been removed. It was the mark of a bare foot. There was great consternation in the neighbourhood as soon as the murder was known. Mr. Thomas Dineley, surgeon, of Hebden Bridge, was called in. He gave his opinion that the deceased died of strangulation. It is commonly said that he also pronounced Sammy to have 256 Yorkshire Oddities, and Incidents. been strangled by a left-handed person ; but some persons very likely to know most of the facts have no remem- brance of this circumstance. The papers and documents were found at Carr Green early in the morning by Olive Heyhirst, who was going to fetch milk. Several persons expressed their suspicions to each other that Old Mike was the criminal. A woman met him in Northwell Lane on Friday morning. He said, " Have you heard that Old Sammy's murdered?" She replied, "If he is, it's thee that's done it." Mike afterwards confessed that the day after the murder he could neither eat, drink, nor sleep, and was always uneasy wherever he was. On Friday evening he went to Heptonstall to be shaved. He was in such a state of restless agitation that the barber had much difficulty in fulfilling his office, and when Mike was gone out, the barber said to some bystanders, " Yon's the man that's murdered Sammy." William Sutcliffe, the nephe\7, returned from his journey on Saturday afternoon. A messenger had been sent to expedite his return ; but he was not able to get back more than a couple of hours earlier than he would otherwise have done. He now privately made known to several neigh- bours, and among others to Mr. John Sutcliffe, of The Lee, that among the missing property there was an unsigned Mytholm note. It had been entered by Mr. Barker, the clerk to Turner, Bent, and Co., but was not signed by them. Having been pinned in the ready reckoner, it would show the marks of pin-holes. At that time several firms near Hebden Bridge issued private notes of different values. Messrs, Turner, Bent, and Co. issued both guinea The One-Pound Note. 257 and one-pound notes, printed in black ink. Messrs. Rawden, of Callis Mill, issued both guinea-notes and five- shilling cards, printed in blue ink, and therefore called " blue-backs." Mr. John Sutclifife, of The Lee, issued cards, value three shillings and sixpence, printed red. Mr. Edmondson issued seven-shilling notes. Mr. Richard Chatburn, of Sprutts, issued three and sixpenny cards. INIr. Robert Sutcliffe, of New Shop, put out five-shilHng notes. Silver was very scarce just now; the smooth shillings which had been current were being called in by Government, and stamped ones issued instead of them. Monday, February loth, Mike attended service at Birch- clifFe Chapel. The minister, Mr. Hollinrake, during his sermon made some strong remarks about the murder. His text was Matthew xxiv., 43 — " But know this, that if the goodman of the house had known in what watch the thief would come, he would have watched, and would not have suffered his house to be broken up." This smote Mike's conscience so severely that he afterwards declared that, if any one had looked him earnestly in the face, he might have discovered that he was the man. An inquest was held at Heptonstall ; and poor old Sammy's remains were interred at Heptonstall church. Standing outside the churchyard, at the east end, near the street, you may read his epitaph through the rails : — " In memory of Samuel Sutcliffe, of Hebden Hay, in Heptonstall, who died Feb- ruary 7, 18 1 7, aged eighty-one years." John Greenwood had a brother living at Luddenden, named William. John went to him, and gave the un- signed note into his hand. He then received the note back again from his brother. This farce was enacted S 258 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. between them to enable John to give an evasive answer to any one who should make troublesome inquiries as to how he became possessed of the note. Joan now went to the house of Thomas Greenwood, of Birchcliffe, and completed the purchase of a clock from him, giving him in payment the unsigned note, with some other money. Another version of the story is that given by William Greenwood, the brother, at York, viz., that " John Greenwood came to his father's house on Tuesday, February nth, and on going home, desired William to * go agatards ' with him ; when he told him that he had bought a clock of Thomas Greenwood that came to forty-two shillings ; that he would give him a note which the witness was to give to Thomas Greenwood on John's account, and say that he had lent it to John. This William did ; but he then began to think that John had not come by the note in an honest manner." A woman named Betty Wadsworth, having had an illegitimate child, had been disowned by her relatives, and was now living " afore t' friend " at Rawholme with another William Greenwood, commonly known by the name of " Will o' t' shop." She possessed a chest of drawers, which, to raise money, she disposed of to Thomas Greenwood, of Birchcliffe, who in payment handed over to her the unsigned note on Tuesday, February nth. The same evening she went to the shop of John Hoyle, of Woodend, to buy groceries, and offered the unsigned note in payment. Hoyle refused to receive it, seeing it was unsigned. She took it back to Rawholme. Wednesday morning, the 12th, she sent it up to Thomas Greenwood by Sarah, wife of " Will o' t' shop," complaining that he had paid to her a note which was not genuine. Now The One-Pound Note. 259 this Thomas Greenwood * was a weaver for Mr. John Sut- cliffe, of The Lee ; and on the day before Tuesday he had received from Mr. John SutcHffe, for wages, a Hahfax bank- note. Not being able to read, he was not aware whether the rejected note was that which he had received from William Greenwood, of Luddenden, or from Mr. John Sutcliffe. Doubting whether he should be able to get a good note from John or William Greenwood in exchange for it, he decided to try The Lee first, and hope for a suc- cessful issue of the experiment. He went immediately to The Lee, and found in the warehouse Mr. Richard Aked, * Greenwood is probably the most prevalent name in the neighbour- hood. Out of 755 entries in a public register in the neighbourhood, the name Greenwood occurs 48 times, Helliwell 34, Sutcliffe 33, Cock- croft 18, Smith 18, Akroyd 15, Crabtree 15, Mitchell 14, Stansfield 13, Uttley 13, Horsfall 12, Midgley 12, Gibson 11, Taylor 11, Pickles 9, Fielden 9, Gill 9, &c. We may here remark on the prevalence ol patronymic names, which sometimes are really useful, however inelegant, in a district where the same names recur so frequently. Thus "John o'Abbie's" and "Joan o' Jim's " were the ordinary names of two individuals who were each legally designated John Stansfield. By how many useful variations is the name John Sutcliffe represented ! To strangers this practice is the more puzzling from the frequent use of abbreviations, such as Earn, Than, Lol, Abbie, Jooas, Kit (or Katie), Joan, Tim, and Turn; for Edmund, Nathaniel, Law- rence, Abraham, Joseph, Catherine, John, Timothy, Thomas. There was formerly a " Jimmie, o' Jamie, o' James, o'th Jumps." " George o'my Gronny's " and " Will o' Nobody's " are bold specimens of what may be done by the principle in question carried out with a little licence. Not unfrequently, also, people are named from their residences, as "John up th' steps," and " Old Ann o'th' Hinging Royd." Bye-names also become sometimes attached as if they were real family surnames. If it were not personal, many singular instances might be given. Per- sons are frequently unable, without some consideration, to recognise the legal names of their neighbours. Upon the hillside at Jumps, near Todmorden, I once asked a little girl who was her father. " Will o' th' Jumps," she replied. "And who's Will o' th' Jumps?" I again inquired. "He's Ailse o' th' Jumps, fellie," replied the girl; and I doubt whether she had any idea whatever of her legal surname. 26o Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. who was learning the business with Mr. Sutcliffe. To him he gave the note, saying that Mr. SutcHffe must have given him an unsigned note by mistake the day before. Mr. Aked took the note to Mr. Sutcliffe, who was breakfasting. He at once saw that this note was the key to the discovery of Sammy's murderer. He sent for some constables, and meanwhile learned from Thomas Greenwood that the note had come from " Joan o' t' Bog-eggs." James Wilson the constable, sizer, of Hebden Bridge Lanes, soon made his appearance, and with him three others — viz., George Har- greaves, John o' Paul's (Greenwood), and John Uttley, com- monly called John Clerk, being the clerk of Heptonstall church. Mr. John Sutcliffe and Thomas Greenwood accompany the officers to Bog-eggs, and Joan is appre- hended. He declares that the note was paid to him by his brother William. Joan is therefore set at liberty, and William is apprehended at Luddenden, and taken to Halifax in proper custody the same day. He is brought before Thomas Horton, Esq., J.P. ,atthe justice-room. Copper Street. He refuses to give any account of the note, being afraid of criminating his brother, till Friday, February 14th. On that day William Greenwood confesses the hoax as to the passing of the note from Joan to him, and back again. The same day Joan is re-apprehended, and declares before Mr. Horton that he received the un- signed note from Old Mike. William Greenwood is set at liberty. Old Mike is looked for, but cannot be found, his wife stating that he is gone off seeking for work. Sunday, February i6th, Mike is apprehended at his brother's at Cowside, near Blackshaw Head. He is kept in custody at an inn in Heptonstall for the night. He declared to the Rev. J. Charnock, who visited him, " I am The One-Poimd Note. 261 as innocent as you are ; I am as innocent as a child unborn." Monday morning, February 17 th, Mike was taken to Halifax, before Justice Horton, with many other persons who had by this time been apprehended on suspicion. (Some had already been brought before Mr. Horton at Halifax. As many as sixteen or seventeen persons in all were taken up. Some of these confessed other crimes, being, however, unconnected with this murder, as of stealing meal and flour, and a gun from Handganroyd Mill, sheep-stealing, &c. I believe that one or two persons were convicted of sheep-stealing. The rest escaped, partly from the unwill- ingness of the parties robbed to prosecute.) Mike is confronted with Joan, and denies Joan's accusation. Joan contradicts himself by some blunder as to the day of the week and day in the month when he went to Old Mike's to borrow money. Hereupon Mike appears to be cleared, and is set at liberty. Joan's father comes to Joan, and entreats him, if he knows anything about the robbery to confess it. At length he yields to this persuasion, and un- reservedly confesses all about both the robbery and the murder. John Uttley, the constable, is in court, and having a horse at the inn, he volunteers to pursue Old Mike on his way back to Heptonstall. He overtakes him in King's Cross Lane, walking quickly homewards, and eating "sweet parkin." Uttley calls out, "You must come back with me." Mike, off his guard, asks, " What ! has he been telling something?" Uttley brings him quietly back to the magistrates' room. Mike no longer denies the crimes of murder and burglary. When he and Joan were confronted by each other there occurred such a scene of crimination and recrimination that it was found 262 Yorltshire Oddities and Incidents. necessary to place Joan in the cell ■ (or cellar) until the minutes of Joan's confession had been read over to Mike. After Mike had confessed many circumstances connected with the affair, the prisoners exchanged places, and the minutes of Mike's confession were read over to Joan. Both were now consigned to their cells. Tuesday, February iSth, the prisoners were again before Mr. Horton, but nothing new was elicited. They were this day committed to York Castle. The same day James Wilson, the constable, searched Mike's house for the third time. His evidence at York is that " he found, concealed under a flag, under the bed, three fustian pieces and four warps, and some other articles, and above the fireplace a gun. The cotton pieces were identified by William Green- wood, Sammy's neighbour, who had taken them into the house of the deceased and marked them; the other articles were identified by William Sutcliffe." The Leeds Mercury of Saturday, Feb. 22nd, says that on Wednesday, the 13th, the two prisoners passed through that town, strongly ironed, on their way to York Castle. The trial took place at York Castle on Friday, March 14th, 1817. The prisoners were arraigned on an indict- ment of murdering Samuel Sutcliffe, and also on an indict- ment of burglary. Both admitted the burglary; both •denied the murder. By the recommendation of the judge they pleaded *' Not guilty " to both indictments. No fewer than 22 witnesses were taken to York, including all the individuals whose names have been given above ; with l>.Ir. William Sutcliffe, of Heptonstall, who made Sammy's writings ; Mr. John Barker and Mr. Jas. Bent, of Mytholm and Mr. Henry Sutcliffe, of Pendle Forest, &c. Mr. Hardy, in a very eloquent and perspicuous opening, stated the facts The One-Po2Lnd Note, 263 of the case. The names of the witnesses whose evidence is given in the Zif^'^^ il/^/rw^j (Saturday, March 22, 18 17), are William Sutcliffe, William Greenwood (the neighbour- ing cottager), Thomas Dyneley, Betty Wadsworth, John Hoyle, Sarah Greenwood, Thomas Greenwood, WilUam Greenwood, of Luddenden, Thomas Horton, Esq., Olive Heyhirst, John Thomas, of Midgley, and James Wilson. John Thomas " was a shoemaker, and received a pair of shoes from the prisoner John Greenwood on the 8th of February, which he delivered to the constable, and which, being produced in court, were identified by William Sutcliffe as the shoes which he had left in the house" when he went on his journey. The other witnesses gave evidence agreeing in most particulars with the facts stated above. The remainder of the proceedings at York we give in the words of the Leeds Mercury of Saturday, March 22nd, 181 7. " The prisoners being called upon for their defence, Michael Pickles said — John Greenwood came to my house and said he was pined, and asked me to go with him to Sammy's, of Hawden Hole, which I did, and he took the gun with him. When we got to the old man's house, we got in at the window, and we both went into the chamber where the old man was. He started up in bed when he heard us, and we both ran away, and I never touched the man. *' John Greenwood said — The robbery was proposed by Michael Pickles, for I did not know that there was such a house — I had never been there in my life. When we got to the house, Pickles went in at the window, but I staid at the outside. I was never in the biggin' at all, but stood at the shop-end all the time, and Pickles brought out all the goods to me that he had taken out oi the bisgin.' He then 264 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. told me that he had taken the old man by the neck, and was afraid he had killed him ; and I said, ' Surely thou hast not hurt the old man ? ' Michael Pickles gave me the gun to carry, but I tied my handkerchief in two knots over the lock, for fear I should do some mischief with it. When we got back to Pickles' house, he told his wife he was afraid he had killed the old man; and his wife began to cry. Pickles charged me that I should keep it a secret from every one, even from my wife, for if I told I should be hanged. " Three witnesses were called. Two of them spoke favourably of the character of John Greenwood. The third stated that he had a wife and three children, but that he did not know much about his character. " His Lordship, in his charge to the jury, stated that where two or more persons were jointly engaged in the commission of any burglary or other felonious act, and one of the party killed a person in furtherance of their common object, every one of the party would in law be guilty of the crime of murder. And it was necessary, continued his Lordship, for the safety of society, that it should be so, that associations in guilt might be as much as possible prevented. If indeed an individual of any such party should put a person to death to gratify his own private revenge, and not for the furtherance of their common object, in that case he alone would be answerable for the murder. His Lordship explained that this furtherance comprises all acts done to prevent or overpower resistance and to prevent discovery. Applying this rule to the case before them, his Lordship said that if the jury were satisfied that both the prisoners had gone to the house of the deceased for the purpose of committing a robbery, and that The One- Pound Note. 265 one of them, to prevent any alarm or discovery, had by violence occasioned the death of the deceased, it would be murder in them both, though one of the prisoners should not have been within the house at the time, and should have given no consent to the murderous deed, or even not have known of its being committed. That a burglary had been committed in the house was too evident to admit of a doubt. It also appeared from all the circumstances of the case that the death of Samuel Sutcliffe had been pro- duced by strangulation, and it was admitted by Pickles that he had seized him by the throat, and that when he quitted his grasp he had reason to suppose he was dead. If the jury were satisfied of these facts, and further thought that Michael Pickles had committed this violence, not from any personal enmity (of which there was not the least proof), but with a view to prevent alarm and secure the accomplishment of their design of robbing the house, it would be the duty of the jury to find both the prisoners guilty. " The jury turned round in the box for a moment, and then pronounced against both prisoners the fatal verdict of 'Guilty.' His Lordship proceeded, after a most solemn and affecting address, to pass the sentence of the law, which was, that they were both of them to be hung by the neck on Monday until they were dead, and that their bodies should be delivered to the surgeons for dissection. " John Greenwood fell on his knees, begging for mercy, and protesting his innocence of the murder. "It is understood that since his conviction he has acknowledged to the chaplain that he was in the house, and stood at the foot of the steps with the gun. " The sentence of the law was carried into execution on 266 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents, Monday, March 17 th, a few minutes after eleven o'clock, and their bodies, after being suspended the usual time, were delivered to the surgeons for dissection. The body of Pickles has been sent to the Dispensary at Halifax." Benjamin PrestoJi, Provincial Poet. 267 BENJAMIN PRESTON, PROVINCIAL POET. HE subject of this memoir is no " oddity," and as not being such should hardly find a place in this collection ; but I have taken the liberty of inserting him in this book as a very remark- able man, whose poems deserve to be better known and more widely read than they are at present.* Benjamin Preston was born at Bradford on August loth, 1819. His paternal grandfather is said to have had talents for versification of no mean order, but it is to be regretted that his productions have been lost. An old woman, upwards of eighty years of age, recited to Benjamin Preston a few lines of a satirical poem called " The White Abbey War," which she had known in her younger days, and which had been composed by his grandfather on the occasion of some disturbance that had taken place among the inhabitants of White Abbey. The father of our poet was in early life a hand-loom weaver, and in many respects superior to his class. In the Life of Dr. Steadman, pastor of the Baptist Church, • "The Dialect Poems of Benjamin Preston," Saltaire : Abraham Holroyd, 1872. 26S Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents, Bradford, is an allusion to a Mr. John Preston, a wealthy member of the congregation. To this person the poet's father, who was left an orphan at an early age, was indebted for such schooling as he had. From Bradford the poet's parents Removed to a " fold " called Waterside, situated about a mile and a half from the town, when Benjamin was only a few months old ; to him therefore Waterside had all the charms of a birthplace. Near as it is now to the great centre of the worsted trade, half a century ago it was a quiet and picturesque spot, consisting of a farmstead with its outbuildings and three cottages, tenanted, as such places mostly were at that period, by weavers and wool-combers. A few verses from a poem by Mr. Preston, entitled " The Olden Days," thus describe it :— Far off, and faint as echoed echoes, comes Back to my ears a streamlet's bubbling flow ; While, bathed in sunshine, rise three cottage homes, And close beside a farmstead, grey and low. In front a garden blooms ; behind, a row Of stateliest elms throw far their verdant screen. A grove lies eastward ; to the west a brow Slopes gently down to pastures broad and green, Whence glances here and there the brook's unresting sheen. On the green walls that gird that quiet spot, The bright-eyed robin shows his crimson vest; And 'neath the lowly eaves of barn and cot The dainty swallow builds her rustic nest. When crowned with flowers, with fragrant winds carest, O'er melting snows first came the dancing spring, Benjamin Preston, Provincial Poet. 269 From deepest glen to mountain's wooded crest, Joy spake in song, while larks on circling wing Made the far realm of clouds with Love's own music ring, I see ye still, ye kindly homely folks, Peopling the world that perished long ago j There side by side ye stand, like forest oaks, Shielding each other while the tempests blow Of this world's wisdom little do ye know, Nor do ye love its hard and selfish creed : It is your daily wont in prayer to bow. And how shall souls that cry " Our Father " breed Strife among brethren, or forget a brother's need ? The ploughshare glitters in the morning sun. And young and old their cheery tasks resume ; Abroad o'er broken fields the harrows run ; At home the maidens ply the wheel or loom. No envious mood, no dumb unthankful gloom. Darkens the happy sunshine of their hearts j Toil is their lot, but not severe their doom. For health and healthful sleep their toils impart. And Love is ever near to sooth Misfortune's smart. Fair these retreats, but fairer still to me The human forms that bless my dreamy gaze ; Dearer than hearth or homestead, brook or tree, The kind, good people of the olden days. Bat ah ! the aery scene no longer stays j My early friends in vain by name I call ; I tread on withered leaves ; my spirit strays, Weeping thro' a lost Eden, where the Fall, Like a down-rushing stream, has marred and ruined all 2 70 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. Some few years after the removal to Waterside the fathei left the loom and entered the warehouse of Richard Fawcett, in whose service he remained seventeen years; but his advancement necessitated a change of residence — a sore trial to the son, who grieved to leave the "bright- eyed robin" on the green walls, and the tall screen of stately elms. After a few years of town life and town schooling the poet was bound apprentice to the father's employer, and served six years in the trade of wool-sorting. Soon after attaining manhood he fell in love and wished to get married ; but times were bad, wool-combing was on the decline, and the depression in the trade caused much bitterness in the hearts of the workers, who thought it was due to a coalition of employers. It was then, in the sadness of hope deferred, that Mr. Preston composed the following touching lines. I have ventured, with the greatest hesitation, to relieve the original text of some of its most perplexing provincial spelling, for the benefit of readers who are not Yorkshire- men. To give it as it stands would be to deny them the pleasure of reading an exquisite poem. For the poem in its original spelling I refer the reader to the collected poems of Mr. Preston, published by Mr. A. Holroyd at Saltaire. I'm a weyver ye know, and half deead, So I do all 'at iver I can Ta put away out o' my heead The thowts and the aims of a man ! Eight shilling a week's what I am. When I've varry good work and full time j Benjamin Preston, Provincial Pod. 271 And I think it a sorry consarn For a hearty young chap in his prime. But our maister says things is as well As they ha'e been, or iver can be ; And I happen shu'd think soa mysel', If he'd nobut swop places wi' me. But he's welcome to all he can get ; I begrudge him o' noan o' his brass, And I'm nowt but a madlin' to fret, Or ta dream o' yond beautiful lass I I niver can call her my wife, My love I sal niver mak' known; Yit the sorrow that darkens her life Throws a shadow across o' my own j And I'm sewar when her heart is at ease, There is sunshine and singing i' mine \ And misfortunes may cum as they please, But they niver can mak' me repine. That Chartist war nowt but a stoap, I were fooild by his speeches and rhymes ; His promises watered my hoap, And I long'd for his sunshiny times ; But I feel 'at my dearest desire Is wilh'rin' within me away, Lik' an ivy-stem trailin' i' t' mire. And deein' for t' want of a stay. When I laid i' my bed of a neet, And were given up by t' doctor for deead — God bless her ! — shoo'd come wi' a leet And a basin o' grewil and breead ; 272 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. And I once tliowt I'd out wi' it all, But sa kindly shoo chatter'd an smiled, I were fain to turn over to t' wall, An' to blather an' sob like a child. And I said as I thowt of her een, Each breeter for t' tear 'at were in't ; It's a sin to be niver forgi'en To yoke her to famine and stint ! So I'll e'en travel for'rd thro' life, Like a man thro' a desert unknown ; I mun ne'er hev a hoam and a wife, But my sorrows will all be my own. So I trudge on aloan as I owt, An' whatever my troubles may be, They'll be sweetened, my lass, wi' the thowt That I've niver browt trouble ta thee. Yet a bird has its young uns to guard, A wild beast, a mate in his den ; And I cannot but think that it's hard — Nay ! deng it ! — I'm roaring agen ! That the masters were hard and grasping at the time there can be little doubt — the men were not altogether out in thinking so ; but they were often unable to appreciate the fluctuations in the market, and resented a lowering of the wages necessitated by the condition of the market as an outrage on their rights. Wlien the condition of affairs is as in Preston's poem of the " Short Timer," there can be no question as to there being a wrong. " It were misty, and frosty, and dark as a booit, And so cau'd ye'd ha pittied a toad ; Benjamin Preston, Provincial Poet. 273 When I heard to my thinking a leet little fooit Pit-patting behind me on t' road. Now at five or half-past of a cau'd winter morn, I'd noa thowts of a comrade at all ; Soa I stood till there coom up a bit of a bairn, Like a peggy-stick airing a shawl. " Halloo, lass," I sed as I tapped her at t' crown, " Tha'U be doin' for t' river or t' kiln ; What ar'ta, ya monkey, and where ar'ta boun' ? " Seys shoo, "A short timer to t' miln." " If that maister o' thine's ony childur," I said, " I sud like 'em to march at thy back ; But I guess if tha'd laid an hour longer i' bed, That trade ud begin to be slack." " Hey I maister,'' shoo said, " I've heard t' governor swear 'At he's made nowt by t' trade for this age ; And his horses and carriages nips him sae bare, That he hardly can toil ta gi'e wage. " Then he's bowt an estaate, an he's building a house, I ! and t' cost on't noa mortal knows yit ; If we pinch till our cubbords wean't pasture a mouse, He can nobbut just stand on his fit. *' If we doan't work for little, we moan't work at all; And me gronfather said yester neet, If it wam't for t' short timers 'at t' system 'ud fall, And t' ploughshare come back into t' street." I lewked off to t' end at that wizen'd owd bairn, And I said, — " It appears like ta me T 2 74 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. 'At t' fact'ry, an' t' mansion, an' t' main o' t' consarn, Is uphowden by midges like thee." Here I parted wi' t' lass, and I cuddn't but laff, Though I felt noan sa mich at my ease ; For I thowt ta mysel, it's a sorry come off, If we've built on sich fooitings as these. It was probably about the same period of depression in the trade that we may suppose Benjamin Preston lost his sweetheart. Perhaps the most exquisite poem in his book refers to this event : — Some cokes warmed me knees wi' their dull red heat, When I swallowed my milk and pobs,* Soa close up to t' fender I pulled my seat, And I planted my feet on t' hobs. Then leeting my short black pipe, I swung Right back i' me owd arm-chair, An' I sate watching t' reekf as it rose an' hung Like a spirit i' t' midneet air. Sister Mally an' t' bairns were asleep upstairs, There were peace wi' that bleatin' crew ; So I smoked an' I thowt o' my wasted years, An' o' t' wark at were yet to do. As I lewked at this life an' at t' life to be, I said to mysen, " Tha ass — Wi' comfort tha nawther can live nor dee, For tha's saved nawther soul nor brass." * Porridge. f Smoke. Be7ija77iin Preston, Provincial Poet. 275 Then some minutes passed over me, sad an' dree, An' me thowts grew as dark as t' neet ; When some drunken owd pals as had been on t' spree Come singing like mad up t' street. Wi' their hands an' their feet they kept beating time, As their arms into t' air were flung ; Eh ! an' t' words o' a godless an' silly rhyme To an owd psalm-tune they sung. Eh ! t' times 'at I've join'd i' that grand owd air, When owd friends at me side were seen — When life were a sunshiny holiday, An' this wizen'd owd world were green. I'd leet of a sun 'at has long since set, I see t' chapel o' Primrose brow ; An' what friends on a Sabbath-day there hev met That for iver are pairted now. They come an' they smile, an' away they pass. But they alius leave one i' view — A poor little fatherless country lass, 'At once sat i' t' singers' pew. One calm summer neet, as we sang t' last hymn, Shoo lewkt i' my face reyt hard, An' her lips were white, an' her een were dim. When I joined her i' t' chapel-yard. An' shoo said to me, " Ben, I feel faint an' ill, Tha mun gi'e me tha arm, owd lad " ; An' she whisper'd some words that I think on still, For they made me reyt proud an' glad. 276 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. Soa I helpt her wi' care over rail an' stile, Till we gate to her garden door ; Then shoo held me by t' hand sich a long, long while, An' I saw her alive noa more. Well, this world gets as cou'd an' as hard as steel, An' at times I feel fain shoe's deead, For shoo'd hard to work at her loom an' her wheel For a morsel o' honest bread. More nor twenty year shoo's been dead an' goan, But wherever ma lot may be, When t' house is all husht an' I'm left aloan, She alius comes back to me. I've wisht 'at I'd telled her by t' garden door How deep were my love an' true, For t' friends o' that orphan were few an' poor : But noa matter — I think shoo knew. Eh ! if iver I get ta yon place aboon — Where I long i' ma heart ta be, Just ta hear her once more sing that owd psalm-tune — A'll be heaven o' itsen ta me. I'd been sitting an' thinking o' t' past an' deead, Till I saw not a spark o' red ; Soa wi' feet like ice an' a heart like leead, I scrambled up t' stairs ta bed. Twenty years and more of town life began to tell upon the poet's health. The close air of the warehouse, the dusty atmosphere, and the monotonous work, were all against him. At one time of his life inflammation of the lungs, at another a more serious illness, warned him to change his Benjamin Preston, Provincial Poet. 277 quarters and his work. He bought a piece of land on the enclosure of Bingley Common, and built a house on it, to which he removed with his family in May, 1865. As this spot is within ten minutes' walk of Ripley Glen, a favourite resort for excursionists, Mr. Preston took out a licence for the sale of beer, and opened a public-house. Here from the upper portion of his grounds he casts his eyes on varied and lovely scenery, with smoky Bradford in the far south-east. There the reader may make the acquaintance of the " Bums of Bradford." The specimens of Mr. Preston's poems, if given in his own broad Bradford dialect, spelt in a way to reduce to despair any man but an habitual reader of the "Fonetik Nuz," would to most readers be unintelligible. T' Sacred Drawer. By t' dim red leet of a sinkin' sun. Tenderly, tenderly, one by one, Shoo laid out her treasures on t' chamber floor ; Thrusting her face into t' cloaz of t' bed, " All on 'um, all on 'um here," shoo said, " But my Johnny I niver mun lewk on more." Scattered about o' that chamber floor, Lakuns* an' little duds there they wor ; Sad upcasten bits of a sunken wreck : Baa-lamb an' trumpet, an' top an' ball, Still as if t' deeath-stroke 'ad strucken 'um all ; Poor thing, ye'd a thowt 'at her heart 'ud breck. * Playthings. 278 Yorkshire Oddities and Incidents. Put by his trifles, his t' cloas repack — Niver noa more A\ill Johnny come back ; For he cares nowt now for what pleased him t' best T' eaglet when makin' his skyward spring, Scatters wi' t' wiff o' his strong young wing All t' feathers an' t' fur 'at 'ad lined his nest. Under his hat as it ligs on t' floor, Summat shoo sees at shoo's seen afore, An' it fassens her een in a dreamy stare : Sunbeams 'at breetened a bygone day, Breezes 'at long sin' have passed away, They're tontlin' wi' t" curls ov his gowlden hair. Music, an' sunshine, an' birds, an' flowers. Gladden like playmates them few short hours, That iver he spent out of t' hives o' men : Poor little chap, how he sams 'um up. Bluebell an' daisy an' gowlden cup. But none i' all t' field 'at can match hissen. Suddenly, sharply, wi' gasp an' start. Back comes her grief to her cheated heart,_ To darken her joy like a thunder-cloud : Once more shoo sits wol her watch is done. Once more shoo's weepin' alone, alone, Wi' a snow-white face an' a snow-white shroud. T' sound's in her ears o' that falhn' clay, T' end comes at last o' that long, long day. When at midneet shoo lifted her voice, an' cried : " Husband, aw, husband ! I can't lewk up, Trouble has drained both faith an' hope ; I cannot turn t' key wi' my bairn outside. Bejijamin Preston, Provincial Poet. 279 " T' flow'rs he once gethered wi' childish greed Faded as he did, an' droopt an' dee'd, But spring call'd 'um up again, one by one : T' soil on his grave has been dampt wi' tears. Spring shower an' sunshine has fallen for years, But Johnny sleeps on — yes, Johnny sleeps on." Johnny sleeps long i' that barren clay. But his mother's learned to wait an' pray ; An' her sorrow's been changed for a solemn bliss Neet after neet as some good deed's done, Down from his hoam comes her little son, An' leaves on her forehead an angel's kiss. It is perhaps necessary to add one word of explanation of a line in this poem — " I cannot turn t' key wi' my bairn outside." In the AVest Riding of Yorkshire it is customary to leave the door of the house unlocked the night after a funeral, and for seven nights after, that the dead may not feel as if the dear old home was closed to him. Surely a little touch of local sentiment — I will not call it superstition — which expresses the warmth and tenderness of Yorkshire hearts in their family affections. END OF VOL I. REPRINTED FROM PLATES BY C. WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LAXE. -/6 WY.^PSIXYnP.F fA., RIVERSIDE LIBRARY 3 1210 01062 7014 > ^ C^^