MY OLD SCOTCH CAP

I met thee first in happy days, When youthful fire was all ablaze, When lovely sun spread forth its rays On bud and sap. And now with pride I on thee gaze, My old Scotch cap.

Were ever I ashamed at all, In church or chapel, feast or ball, In cottage, park, or famous hall, O' thee, old chap? 'Mongst rich or poor, or great or small, My old Scotch cap?

I still remember with a smile When we sailed from the coast o' Kyle, And took a boat for Erin's Isle I took a nap— Thou wert my pillow all the while, My brave Scotch cap.

I mind the night we came across That dreadful common, called the Moss, 'Midst wind and rain, and tempest tossed— And thunderclap I did begin to fear thy loss, My old Scotch cap.

And like Ajax, in ancient days, When he defied the lightning's rays, I sought thee, 'midst the glowing blaze, And found thy trap; And caught thee in my fond embrace— My old Scotch cap.

On terra firma or on sea, Old cap I ken thy pedigree; And if we separated be Death's cord shall snap— For I will ne'er abandon thee, My old Scotch cap.

I reached Keighley safely; my parents again killed the fatted calf, and right loyally did they welcome their prodigal son. I kept from the fact that I had been a soldier while I had been away, and for a long time very few people knew what I had really been doing during my three years' absence from my native town. Everybody complimented me on my sleek and robust appearance. In due course I applied to Mr Edwin Hattersley, manufacturer, North Brook Works, for a job at warp-dressing, and he readily provided me with one. For a few weeks I was made a sort of god of among my friends.



CHAPTER XIII

BACK TO KEIGHLEY—I BECOME A VOLUNTEER

When I got home to Keighley, the authorities were busily engaged in forming a corps of Rifle Volunteers in the town. The commanding officer was the late Captain Busfeild Ferrand, of St. Ives, Bingley. I was asked to enlist by sergeant (afterwards captain) Henry Wright (now magistrate's clerk at Keighley), but objected at first, as each Volunteer had to purchase his own clothing and accoutrements. However, I was told that if I would join I should have my uniform, &c., free; and I believe I am correct in stating that I was the first in the Keighley corps to have my outfit on these terms. I became a Volunteer. At this time the gentry of the town and district took a great deal more interest in the Volunteer movement than they do to-day. Tradesmen, especially, readily joined the corps, and it was not long ere the first Company was filled up, and a second Company started in the town. Entertainments were frequently given by the officers.



CAPTAIN BUSFEILD FERRAND GIVES A BANQUET

One of these popular functions was given by Captain Busfeild Ferrand. It took the form of a splendid banquet, which was served at the Devonshire Hotel by mine host and hostess, Mr and Mrs Cheeseborough. (Mr Cheeseborough was subsequently the superintendent of police at Keighley). The fact that the banquet cost the Captain over 1 pound per head may afford some idea of the scale of its magnificence. The guests comprised the gentry of the neighbourhood, and also many from a distance. Several military officers of high rank were present—Colonel Wombwell, Captain McMurdock, &c. The Rector of Keighley (the Rev. W. Busfeild) was among the guests; also, his two sons, both of them officers in the Army. "After a sumptuous repast," as the newspapers have it, Captain Busfeild Ferrand rose and proposed the health of the Queen, eulogising the excellent qualities of Her Majesty. The Captain was a very loyal subject, as may be judged by the severity of his threat—that if any Volunteer present did not drink to the health of the Queen he would have him struck off the rolls. The Rev. W. Busfeild proposed the "Army and Navy," and, in the course of a felicitous speech, mentioned that he was the proud father of two sons who were now officers in the Army, and of another who was in the Navy—a sentiment which was applauded to the very echo. Other toasts were honoured, and speeches made, and throughout the proceedings the greatest enthusiasm and good feeling prevailed. There was one present whom I shall always remember—the late Mr George Hattersley, the founder of the firm of George Hattersley & Sons, and the father of Alderman R. L. Hattersley. Mr George Hattersley was a volunteer in the days of Wellington and Bonaparte, and was one of the—if not the one—oldest Volunteers present. "Our comrade, Mr George Hattersley," was toasted with musical honours and great cheering by the whole company. During the evening Captain Ferrand gave some very interesting and laughable anecdotes about his military experiences, especially as a Cavalryman during the Plug-drawing and Chartist Riots. He told us that his uncle, Major Ferrand, had commanded the Bingley corps of Volunteers, and Captain Ellis, of Bingley, the Keighley detachment. The time had come to pass, however, when they had exchanged places, Captain Ellis being placed in charge of the Bingley section, and he (Captain Busfeild Ferrand) taking the place of his uncle at Keighley. The Captain went on to tell us how he had a military "head" when he was a boy, and caused roars of laughter by saying he had frequently bestridden a donkey grazing in the field, and set off on the "war path," imagining himself some great general. Throughout, the proceedings were almost inconceivably brilliant and enjoyable, and it was well after the "wee short hour beyont the twal" when the National Anthem was sung.



AN UNSUCCESSFUL FIELD DAY AT YORK

The first field day the Keighley Volunteers had was at York. We formed part of the West Riding Battalion, and the object of the gathering was a grand review by the Duke of Cambridge. Unfortunately the day was a very wet one, and, in consequence, the review turned out a failure. In those days the Volunteers were not provided with great coats, and a torrential downpour soon wet every man to the skin. Reviewing under these conditions would have been decidedly uncomfortable and unsatisfactory; consequently, the whole battalion was dismissed, and told to seek shelter in the best places they could find. The Keighley detachment went in batches into the city. Drill-Sergeant Chick would have me to go with him into the nearest tavern. The drill-sergeant was a remarkable man in his way, and over a glass of ale he declared, with an unblushing countenance, that he had been in some parts of the world where it had rained ten times heavier for twelve months at a time than it was doing that day. Of course, I, in my modesty kept quiet, and did not challenge the veracity of the statement of this wonderful man. Yes; there were some "fine" boys among the Volunteers in those days. We had some very popular non-commissioned officers who were very kind to us, which made it a pleasure to serve under them.



REVIEW AT DONCASTER

The next review was at Doncaster, shortly afterwards, when the day was about as hot as it was wet on the occasion of the abandoned review at York. The commissariat was ample for every man, but it was generally thought that an improvement might have been effected by substituting something for the "cayenne pies," alias pork pies. Each man had a lb. pork pie and two pints of beer allowed. The pies were hotly peppered, and we all declared that they would have given a dog the hydrophobia. Then the pint pots for drinking ran short—a cruel occurrence on a hot and dry day. Only half-a-dozen of these drinking utensils fell to the Keighley detachment, and they fell into the hands of six of the "smartest" lads in the whole corps—Privates Billy Bentley, Jack Thom, John Hargreaves, Ned Thretten, Jack Wilkinson, and Long Stanhope. I, for one, badly wanted to quench my thirst, but was unable to do so, for the above-mentioned six brave soldiers stuck to their guns—that is, their pint pots, manfully, and there was no prospect of a drink until they had fairly "put the dust down." At last, however, I managed to get a pot, but had it taken from me as I was drinking. Captain Thomas Blakey went up to Private Bentley and asked, "Are you a married man, Bentley?" "Yes," replied Bentley. "Have you got any family?" "I have," said Bentley. "Well," said Captain Blakey, "you'd better take a dozen of these pies home to your children." "Does ta want me ta give 'em t' hydrophobia? Why, I wodn't give 'em ta t' cat!" But at this stage "Fall in" was sounded. The parade went through with satisfaction, and the review was as much a success as that at York was a failure. General McMurdoch was the Commander-in-chief, and he specially commended the Keighley corps for the march past and volley-firing, and said his comments would be forwarded to the proper quarter.



AN AMUSING INCIDENT ON THE HOME JOURNEY

The time came round for the respective regiments taking part in the review to turn their faces homeward. The detachments from the Keighley and Bradford districts entrained together. Every man was crying out of thirst, and at Normanton one of the officers, belonging to Skipton, had the train stopped. How we blessed him for it! We detrained in a body, and rushed to the big pump on the platform (used to fill the locomotive boilers). The water was turned on, and, besides quenching his thirst on the spot, each Volunteer filled his water-bottle. This was a "movement" which took some time to execute; and it was, I must say, very considerate of the station officials to allow us to spend so much time to have a cheap drink. Major W. L. Marriner and Quartermaster Barber Hopkinson (of whom I shall have something further to say afterwards) were with us, both doing their best to pacify their men until they could have their thirst slaked. Quartermaster Hopkinson "had his hands full" in looking after his "boys." Well, the soldiers, having all got their bottles filled with water, re-entered the train, and the journey forward to Keighley was accomplished without further incident calling for notice.



THE DRILL-SERGEANT'S DISMISSAL

When the Volunteers reached home there was the inevitable reaction—the "review" men had "a drink at t'heead on 't," and another, and another; and for two or three days they were to be seen straggling about the streets. There was one disagreeable incident that occurred to mar the pleasant termination of the review, locally considered. That was the dismissal of Drill-sergeant Chick from the regiment at the instance of Captain Leper, who was the adjutant for the Bradford and Keighley divisional corps. The drill-sergeant's offence consisted, it appeared, in "speaking when not spoken to." I have previously made mention that the Keighley corps were complimented by the commanding officer for their march past and volley-firing. When making his remarks, General McMurdock wanted to know the name of the corps. Captain Leper (a Bradfordian) replied, "Bradford, sir." Sergeant Chick, in his enthusiasm, and knowing that they were his own men who were alluded to, shouted, "No, sir; it's Keighley." This "flagrant misconduct" on the part of a subordinate incensed Captain Leper—this was seen by the "wicked" impression on the captain's face—who was not long in telling poor Chick that he had been dismissed the regiment. This was a hard blow to the drill-sergeant, who had drilled his men so that they marched as one man; but, to Captain Leper's credit, let it be said that he subsequently endeavoured to get Sergeant Chick re-instated. The dismissal, however had gone through the oracle of the Horse Guards, and to withdraw was impossible. Captain Leper then found employment for him at Bradford in looking after the orderly-room, &c., and with his remuneration from this source, and a small army pension, the ex-drill-sergeant managed to live in comparative comfort.



A DRILLING INCIDENT

Volunteering at Keighley went on in its own quiet and peaceful way. I might, perhaps, mention one incident which took place while the Keighley companies were drilling in the old Showfield one Saturday afternoon. Lieutenant (or Ensign, I forget which for the moment) Joseph Craven, of Steeton, was in charge of a squad of us. Now, Mr Craven was somewhat corpulent—there was no mistake about that, and marching about under a hot sun was clearly not accomplished without great exertion and copious perspiration. The members of the squad soon comprehended the position in which their drill-master was, and they determined to give him "quick march." When he gave the order "Quick march!" from the front, the "boys" did march to some tune. Their commander soon found it necessary to step from the front, and he was left a good distance behind. But he soon discovered their little "game," and proved himself "quite up to their trick." By calling out "halt" at intervals, he found himself able to keep up fairly well with the men. In his next drills he was considerately allowed by Captain Busfeild Ferrand to go about on horseback. Mr Craven was known among us as a very genial and sociable officer, and he enjoyed the respect and esteem of those under him. There were circumstances, however, which caused his retirement from the Volunteer corps, after a comparatively short service.



CHAPTER XIV

A MONSTER REVIEW AT DOVER

The Keighley corps, along with the battalion of which it formed a part, and many other regiments from various parts of the country, were next ordered to Dover, to take part in a gigantic review there. In all there would be about 30,000 troops gathered, these including both Regulars and Volunteers of all grades and classes. His Majesty the King of the Belgians was to be present at the review. The Keighley contingent left the town on the Saturday morning before one Easter-Monday, and finally arrived at St. Pancras at 11 o' clock at night. We marched to the barracks of the Surrey Volunteers, who gave us a right loyal and warm reception, and, indeed, showed us the most extreme kindness throughout our stay with them; and this good feeling between the Surrey Rifles and the Keighley Rifles has, I believe, been continued down to the present moment. Captain Irving evinced a deep interest in us, and he remained with us until a late (or early) retiring-hour, amusing us with his Cockney yarns. In the morning we took part in a



CHURCH PARADE TO WESTMINSTER ABBEY

It was a pleasant Sunday morning, and I was out of the barracks early, taking a few miles' walk. I was back in readiness for the parade, which saw us at the Abbey in good time, and we were permitted to look through the beautiful edifice, and admire and reverence the interesting national mementoes within its walls. We took our seats in time for the service. Dean Stanley was the preacher, and I regarded it a fine treat to have the privilege of listening to such an eloquent sermon as the Dean delivered on "The Passover." I must confess that there were certain passages in the rev. gentleman's discourse which I could not fairly understand; but, perhaps that was owing a great deal to my attention being centred elsewhere. Opposite me sat an elderly gentleman, clean shaven, with close-cut side whiskers. This gentleman was very attentive to the sermon, and likewise to his Prayer-book. Sergeant Midgley (who is at present in Keighley), a fellow-Volunteer, whispered in my ear, "Do you know that old gentleman across the aisle?" "No," replied I. He told me he was no less a personage than Mr Jefferson Davis, Ex-president of the Confederate States of America. Instantly my mind was involuntarily set a-thinking about the American Civil War, and its four years of human butchery—all brought about by this man in front of me who was now coolly listening to the word of God! However, the service was over, and the Volunteers filed out of the church and marched to the strains of their drum and fife band, which played rollicking tunes to the delight of the rollicking Yorkshiremen. When we got in front of the Bank of England, Captain Allan Brown (commanding the Keighley detachment) halted and dismissed us until seven in the evening.



SEEING THE "SIGHTS O' LUNNON"

We broke up into parties. Billy Bentley, John Walton, Thomas Ackroyd, William Brown, and Ben Atkinson were in the party which I joined. Bentley had served as a policeman in London, and knew his way about the metropolis fairly well; Ackroyd had worked as a tailor in the big city, and I myself had been there before; so that we were able to find our way about very well. We went through St. Paul's Cathedral, and then on to Trafalgar Square, passing, on our way, through St. James' Park, just outside of which we saw the cluster of monuments to the Crimean heroes who fought for "England's home and beauty." We also visited the Duke of Wellington's house, and spent a short time in Hyde Park. Having viewed the extensive block of buildings comprising Buckingham Palace, we passed into Regent-street and here the party broke up.



I MEET WITH A KEIGHLEY GENTLEMAN

It was here that I met with Mr Frederick Carrodus, brother of the eminent violinist, Mr John Tiplady Carrodus, who, by the way, paid a visit to his native town of Keighley a few weeks ago. Mr Fred Carrodus had with him a gentleman whom he introduced to me as Mr Hermann, pianoforte manufacturer, and to whom I was introduced by Mr Carrodus as Bill o' th' Hoylus End, the Yorkshire poet. For four or five hours we were bosom friends and comrades, as it were. Mr Hermann knew his way about London to perfection, and he took me to many places "to see what I could see." He had always his hands down to pay, telling me that he would treat the Yorkshire poet as long as he was with him; and that he did. It was tolerably late at night when Mr Carrodus and Mr Hermann and I said au revoir to one another. I made my way as quickly as possible to the Surrey barracks, and my hurried journey must have caused no little wonder and alarm in the minds of the easy-going Londoners whom I met and passed. Seven o'clock was the time when I should have been in the barracks but it was much after that hour. However, an explanation to Captain Brown set matters right.



OFF TO DOVER—A STORMY MORNING

Next morning, about four o'clock, the bugle sounded the reveille and soon after we were all in marching order. We proceeded by an early train on the Chatham and Dover Railway, and by nine o'clock in the morning had reached our destination—Dover. It was, I think, one of the coldest and most miserable mornings I ever experienced. The sea was very rough, the waves lashing on the roadway; and the rain came down in torrents. During the night there had been such a storm in the Channel, the natives said, that had not been equalled for half-a-century. The whole of the soldiers were paraded on the Esplanade, but they were again and again forced back from the edge of the shore, until there was really no room to pile arms. General Lindsay saw the situation, and came riding up with several officers, with whom he held a sort of council of war. Before they had arrived at a decision, the waves had come over the beach and dashed right up to where the soldiers were standing. "It's no use," said General Lindsey, "this review is a forlorn hope—I must dismiss the parade." He then gave the whole of the Volunteers orders to dismiss until three o'clock in the afternoon. The men dispersed in various directions, and just as they had got pretty nearly cleared away, up rode the Duke of Cambridge and Prince Arthur (now Duke of Connaught). The two Royal personages drew up in front of a large hotel, and out of curiosity I remained standing by. The Duke was in a very angry mood, and demanded to know who had dismissed the parade. Upon this, General Lindsey made his appearance in the doorway of the hotel, and, addressing the Duke of Cambridge, said:—"Your Royal Highness,—Owing to the severe inclemency of the weather, I have thought fit to dismiss the parade until three o'clock in the afternoon." "You had no business to do such a thing," the Duke hotly replied. "It will be a failure, and His Majesty the King of Belgium will be disappointed. Send out your aid-de-camp to bring everyone in—never mind the weather." The storm was still raging. I noticed a couple of steamers in the offing. They were coming from France, and the passengers were Volunteers who had been in that country since Saturday. The vessels could be seen buffeting with the waves, and it was noticed that the funnels of the steamers were missing, having, as we afterwards learned, been blown away by the violent wind and heavy sea. It was about this period that a small vessel—a gunboat, I think it was—the "Ferret," was driven on the rocks in front of the Castle, and dashed to pieces. The crew managed to get off by the boats. For a time it was believed that a boy on the boat had been lost, but he was subsequently rescued. After much delay the two steamers were able to land the Volunteers, who told a terrible tale of their rough voyage across the Channel.



I PERFORM A MILITARY TACTIC

In the meantime, the Duke of Cambridge was "drilling" General Lindsey for dismissing the troops. Wise, perhaps, in my generation, I stole away on hearing the General instructed to re-collect the troops, and got into the back quarters of the town. I finally found myself in a tavern kept by an old cobbler, and he allowed me to dry my soaked uniform. Through a window in the house I could watch the movements of the troops who had been got together again. Soon after dinner there was a calm in the weather; the rain ceased and the sun came out.



UP THE HEIGHTS OF DOVER

I could see regiment after regiment ascend the Heights of Dover. Now, a battalion of "stragglers" was being formed, so, after having partaken of refreshment, I emerged from my lair. I found a trooper in waiting at the end of the passage, and he ordered me to double to and fall in quick or he would "prick" me. I joined the "stragglers." We climbed the Heights together, and then each man joined his own regiment. While all this was going on sailors from vessels anchored in the harbour had been dragging big guns up the heights; and, in fact, the preparations that were made favoured the idea that a real engagement was about to take place. When all was in readiness



THE SIGNAL FOR THE START

was given. There was a tremendous cannonading, which would be heard for some distance. Then there were movements by the cavalry soldiers, who, in their charges, trampled down hedges, corn and, in truth, everything that came in their way. This did really seem to me a ruthless and unjustifiable proceeding. The manoeuvres concluded with volley-firing by the respective companies of the various regiments. General McDonald gave the Keighley Volunteers great praise for their efficiency in volley-firing. The sham fight lasted over three hours, and was witnessed with apparent interest by the King of Belgium and his staff. At the conclusion, each regiment went in its own direction. The Keighley contingent returned to the Surrey barracks, arriving about 10 o'clock at night. We found a grand banquet awaiting us, and this, I need scarcely say, was very welcome after a truly hard day's work. The repast was succeeded by an entertainment, at which there were vocal and instrumental music, and readings and recitations, by several of the Keighley representatives and the Surrey officers. Captain Irving gave readings in the Cockney dialect, which immensely amused the Yorkshiremen. The Haworth Drill-sergeant recited "Cockhill Moor Snake," and Bill o' th' Hoylus End gave "Jack o' th' Syke Hill" and "Come, nivver dee i' thi shell, owd lad,"—the latter of which our townsman, Squire Leach, publicly recited on his marriage day, and a few verses of which I am tempted to introduce here:—

"Come, nivver dee i' thi shell, owd lad," Are words but rudely said, Tho' they may cheer some stricken heart, Or raise some wretched head; For they are words ah love, They're music to mi ear; They muster up fresh energy To chase each doubt an' fear.

Nivver dee i' thi shell, owd lad, Tho' some may laugh an' scorn; Ther' wor nivver a neet afore ta neet But what ther come a morn. An' if blind fortune's used thee bad, Sho's happen noan so meean; To morn'll come, an' then for some T' sun'll shine ageean.

Nivver dee i' thi shell, owd lad, But let thi motto be— "Onward!" an' "Excelsior!" An' try for t' top o' t' tree; An' if thy enemies still pursue (Which ten ta one they will), Show 'em, owd lad, thou'rt doing weel, An' climbin' up the hill.

Very pleasant hours were those spent with the Surrey Volunteers that night in spite of our tired and wearied condition. Next day we returned to Keighley, only to find that after our week's absence the town had not altered very much!



A VOLUNTEER DRAMATIC SOCIETY

We had found the Surrey Volunteers possessed a very good dramatic class and a pretty little theatre in the barracks. This led to the formation of a similar organisation at Keighley, and among the members of the society were Sergeant Atty, Private Thomas Ackroyd, Corporal Colley, Sergeant William Brown, Private John Walton, Sergeant Roddy, and Corporal Wright (alias Bill o' th' Hoylus End). We got a stage erected in the Drill Hall, and purchased a drop-scene (in the centre of which was worked in silk a representation of the coat of arms of the Cavendish family), and all the necessary accessories. This was all done "on strap." For our first performance we gave the comedy "Time tries all," and there was a large and influential gathering, including Mr Birkbeck, banker, of Settle, and party. Mr Birkbeck afterwards invited the society to repeat the performance at his residence. The proceeds of our first entertainment were 14 pounds, and performances on two other nights brought the sum up to 40 pounds. It was not long before we had raised 80 pounds and this was sufficient to discharge all expenses incurred in erecting and fitting up the stage, purchasing costumes, &c. The society continued to prosper. Military plays were generally chosen for representation, such as "The Roll of the drum" and "The Deserter." At last, certain difficulties arose which sealed the doom of the society, and the organisation soon dropped into decay. The stage, &c., were allowed to remain, and the hall was let to travelling theatricals and other companies. The dramatic society and the reviews which the Volunteers occasionally attended at London, York, Doncaster and Liverpool all tended to make my connection with the Volunteer corps very pleasant and enjoyable; and I can truly say that in those days it was regarded a great privilege to be a Volunteer. My membership of the Keighley corps extended over fourteen years, and would not then have been severed but for my removal to Bradford. Perhaps I may wind up my Volunteering history with a few verses which I penned on the death of Captain Irving of the Surrey Volunteers:—

Gone is poor Irving, the brave Volunteer— The soldier, the man, is now on his bier; He was with you all round, as well as the ranks, Full of wit, and good humour, and frolicsome pranks.

He could mimic the Cockney at home or abroad, He could shoulder a rifle or handle a sword; His word of command would put you all right; He could talk to a stranger from morning to night.

But, alas! he is gone, and we now mourn his loss, For he's gi'en up his sword at the foot of the Cross. And if there's an army wherever he's gone, We know that brave Irving is second to none.



CHAPTER XV

IN SEARCH OF EMPLOYMENT

During my service in the Volunteer corps, I had my ups and downs in connection with securing that employment which is necessary for one's maintenance. I gave up my work at Mr Edwin Hattersley's, warp-dresser, North Brook Mills, and took it into my head that I should like to be a policeman—a real policeman a la my friend, Mr James Leach. I learned that Colonel Cobb, the Chief Constable of the West Riding Constabulary, was on a visit to Mr Murgatroyd, a magistrate, at Bingley, and accordingly went over to the Throstle-nest of old England for the purpose of an interview with the Colonel. I was introduced into the Colonel's presence, and stated my errand. Colonel Cobb plied me with questions as to my former career, and when I told him I had been in the Army he wanted to know if I had any references; he particularly wanted to know whether I had risen from the ranks. I told him that I had a good "character" from the colonel of my late regiment, and also that I had worked my way up from a private's position to that of a provo-sergeant. Whereupon the old gentleman said he thought I was a very likely fellow for a policeman, and promised that if I called upon him in a few months I should in all probability be taken on. In the intervening period of waiting my mind underwent a change. I thought it would be safest to have "two strings to my bow;" so, having a hankering after a position as guard on the railway (intending, of course, to commence as a porter) I wrote to the Midland Railway Company at Derby, asking if they had a situation for me at Keighley. I got a reply inquiring for references. Then I went to my cousin, Mr James Wright, the manager for Messrs Butterfield Bros., Prospect Mill. While willing to give me a "character," my cousin strongly advised me to accept neither situation, as he felt that it would not suit me. I should, he said, want to be more at liberty than I should be in either of the positions I intended taking up. He expressed his willingness to find me employment in the mill. I went home and "discussed the out-look." The upshot was that I decided to let the police force and the railway do without me, and I commenced to work with my brothers, who, in a building in Heber-street, did warpdressing for Messrs Butterfield. I stuck to the work for a short time, and then, with the temptation of more wages, I went back to my old position at Messrs Lund's, North Beck Mills. I remember when I was about to leave the Heber-street establishment I was much taunted by two of the foremen, who would have it that I was going to Lund's mill because Mr James Lund was about to give the employees a trip to, and a treat at, his residence, Malsis Hall. On the face of it, it did appear as though their playful accusation was correct, as the great function was to come off in a week's time.



TRIP TO MALSIS HALL

Great were the preparations that were made for the affair, which was on nearly everybody's tongue. The spinning and weaving trade was at that time in a very brisk condition, and peace and plenty appeared to reign triumphant. At last, the great day arrived:—

The day wor fine, the sun did shine, No signs o' rain to fall When t' North Beck hands, i' jovial bands, Did visit Malsis Hall.

Up by the hill o' North Beck Mill, Both owd an' young did meet; To march, I trow, i' two-by-two I' procession down the street.

An' Marriner's band, wi' music grand, Struck up wi' all ther might; Then one an' all, both great an' small, Marched on wi' great delight.

Arrived at Keighley Station, the large party took possession of a special train which was in waiting, and were safely conveyed to Crosshills.

This jovial band, when they did land, Got off the train so hearty, For they all went wi' that intent— To have a grand tea-party!

Then to the place, each smiling face, Moved on in grand succession. The lookers-on did say, "Well done! It is a grand procession."

The "grand procession" passed into the park, and up to Malsis Hall. A hymn was lustily sung, and then the people were free to ramble about the grounds to their hearts' content. Gaily-coloured flags and bunting were displayed in profusion, and with the additional charm of the "pleasing sounds of music creeping into their ears" the quondam mill-workers could well imagine themselves permitted to spend a brief interval in a very paradise. But when the time for the "real" part of the feast was come, lo and behold! there was a great disaster—

All but one sort o' bread ran short, but it wor no fault o' t' maister. O! Caterer; thy bread an' bun An' judgement they were scanty; O! what a shame, an' what a name For not providing plenty.

O! Billy Brown thou might have known To eyt each one wor able, The country air did mak' some swear— They could ommost eyt a table!

Despite this slight "hitch," we all "made the best of it," and succeeded in enjoying ourselves until the evening, when the closure was unceremoniously applied to the proceedings by a heavy thunderstorm:—

The atmosphere's no longer clear, The clouds are black an' stormy; Then all the comp'ny away did run Like one deserting army.

Like some fast steed, wi' all its speed, All seemed as they wor flying; To escape the rain, an' catch the train Both old an' young wor trying.

The people got into the train all right, and travelled safely to Keighley:—

All satisfied wi' their short ride' But sorry for the rain.



THE PEOPLE'S "TRIBUNE"

The above verses are included in a piece I wrote in celebration of the trip. It was about this period I began to spend a good deal of time in writing doggerel and rhyme for publication in the local press. Many of my "efforts" took the form of satires upon defaulting gentlemen—men who, I thought, should be held up to public ridicule and censure. I placed myself at the service of the people, and was always ready to show up their wrongs under my motto, "Right against Might." For my pains in that direction I was often boycotted, and occasionally brought before the magistrates. In the latter case, an indirect charge was invariably brought against me in order that certain individuals might take "revenge out of me." But I flatter myself that I had as often a friend behind me to save me from "durance vile." On one occasion I was hauled up for refusing to quit the old Crown Inn, Church Green. I had occasion to go to the place where, it seemed, there had been a row a few minutes previously; indeed, I met several men in the passage who had taken part in the row and were being turned out. I made my way forward and took a seat in the tap-room. Before I had been seated many minutes a policeman came in and charged me with refusing to quit the public-house when ordered to do so. I endeavoured to convince "Robert" that I had not taken part in the row, and that I had never been asked to quit; but I soon found what a hopeless task I had set myself in trying to "convince a policeman against his will." On the following Friday I was hauled up before the magistrates. I defended myself as best I could, but was told by the presiding magistrate that I was nothing but an "impudent scoundrel." However, the charge against me—preferred by a policeman, and supported by no other witness—was considered proved by the Bench, who mulcted me in a fine of 10s and costs. Greatly incensed at the verdict, but more especially at the manner in which the chairman of the Bench had "sat upon" me, I resolved to take a course of action at the expense of the gentleman mentioned. So the same afternoon, still smarting under a sense of having been unfairly dealt with, I set to work with my pen, and wrote a satire on the magistrate who took the most prominent part in dealing with my case. By the dinner hour on the following day (Saturday) I was in the market-place selling copies of the satire. People bought with avidity, and before Saturday went out I had disposed of a thousand copies at a penny each; which returns enabled me to pay the fine and then make profit out of my prosecution.



THE HENPECKED CLUB AND THE KEIGHLEY SHOW

My next effusion was partly in verse and partly in prose, and was entitled, "The Rules and Regulations of the Henpecked Club." This club was connected with the Agricultural Society's Show, and made its existence felt on the Show Day only. At the time of which I write, the Keighley Agricultural Show was about one of the finest shows in the country. The townspeople, then, took some pride in their show. The public thoroughfare from Church Green along Skipton-road to the Showfield was decorated in a gorgeous fashion. Flags, streamers, and bunting, with scores of appropriate mottoes and devices, were numerously in evidence, and trees were planted on each side of the road and decked with all sorts of fairy lamps. Yes; those were the good old days of the Keighley Show; thousands of people flocked from all parts of a not very limited area to attend the annual event. But the principal thoroughfares of the town were not the only places which received attention at the hands of the decorators, for the residents of such places as the Pinfold went in for their own particular local celebration of the Show Day. On one occasion I saw a stuffed donkey with a dummy rider on its back, swinging on a rope opposite the Bay Horse Inn. The donkey, which was the source of intense delight to the younger section of the populace, was the property of one Harry Barwick, a tanner by trade. Not far from here—in old Bridge-street, now known as Mill-street—was to be seen a large picture, containing the portraits, rudely executed by myself as artist to the club, of some forty members of the Henpecked Club. The spectacle was of the most laughable description. There was also displayed a gigantic cradle, large enough to hold the biggest person in the world in case of emergency. The cradle was supposed to be used on the occasion of a member of the club being found guilty of ill-treating his wife. The cradle was made by a practical wag, known as Billy Bradley, who attended to it every Show Day. When there was a clean sheet of actual offenders, Bradley contented himself with "rocking" men who volunteered just for the fun of the thing. Finish was imparted to the performance by a fiddler, named Smith Keighley, playing "Rock'd in the cradle of the deep" during the operation. Many were the visitors who came to see the stirrings in this corner of the town. I remember the late Mr John Sugden, of Eastwood House, coming up in his carriage to see the fun and frolic, which were practically the sole objects of the Henpecked Club. On one occasion there was exhibited a picture, almost as large as a stage scene, representing a trial in the Henpecked Club,—a wife charging her spouse, before the President, with neglect of family duty. The counts of the charge were supposed to be—refusing to wash-up, black-lead, clean his wife's boots, put the clothes-line out, and last, but not least, refusing to take his wife her breakfast upstairs. I recollect one remarkable and unrehearsed incident which happened in connection with the club on one Show Day. A man of the name of Shackleton had joined the club, and his wife was so disgusted that she was almost "wild." Before the scores of people who had assembled she protested "Ahr Jack isn't henpecked, an' ah weant hev him henpecked." It was, she said, just the opposite—she who had been henpecked. Just as Mrs S. was concluding her harangue a waggonette drove up, and all the members of the club got into it in readiness for a drive round the town "for the benefit of the Order," as one of them amusingly put it. This Shackleton was among those who entered the conveyance, but no sooner had he taken his seat than his wife went up to him and seized him firmly by the hair of the head, exclaiming, "Come aat, er Ah'll let 'em see whether tha's henpecked er no." She stuck to her spouse with such a tight fondness that he was soon obliged to come out of the waggonette. Shackleton took the incident quite good humouredly, and seemed to enjoy the mirth-provoking situation with as much zest as the crowd of people who were standing by. And this was a sample of the carryings-on in the days of the old Keighley Show. But, alas! there came a day of trouble to the people. In the period preceding one year's show an epidemic of small-pox broke out in the town and the show had to be abandoned. Unfortunately that proved the deathblow of the old Agricultural Society.



CHAPTER XVI

KEIGHLEY'S FIRST SCHOOL BOARD

The agitation for a School Board for Keighley in 1875 was strongly opposed by many of the ratepayers. Both Liberals and Tories were seeking office, and there was a third party which entered into the fray. The Tory party said they would run seven of the nine candidates; the Liberals claimed to run the whole nine; so this third party came up to the scratch and said they would run three candidates for the sole purpose of splitting the votes. The names of those who composed this little party were Joseph Fieldhouse, Bill Spink, "Little" Barnes, Adam Moore, James Leach, Dick Royston and myself. Our meetings were held in Bill Spink's little cobbler's shop. There was no very great interest taken in the election by the public until a certain incident happened. Mr Walter McLaren (M.P. for Crewe) and I often met together at Mr Amos Appleyard's printer's shop in Church Green on business connected with election literature. On one occasion I went to the printer's, and during the few minutes' waiting before I received attention, I had an opportunity of perusing the "copy" for a bill which Mr McLaren had just previously brought in to print. The bill was to call a private meeting of Liberals at the Albion Hall to select candidates. Seeing a chance for a good, though, perhaps, unwarrantable "lark," I altered the word "private" to public and, when Mr Appleyard came to attend to me, handed the bill to him and asked him to print it as a poster. He had delivered the bills to me the same night, and I had them posted, with the result that, instead of a hole-and-corner meeting, there was a crowded audience of mixed political opinions. The Liberal leaders were completely non-plussed. The people were asked what business they had in the hall, and were ordered to leave. But they said they had attended by public request, and refused to budge. The proceedings relapsed into a state of confusion, and no business whatever could be done. However this meeting served one good purpose, for it enlisted the interest of the public in the election. The election day at last arrived—March 31st. 1875—and it was found that two of our three candidates (Joseph Fieldhouse and Adam Moore) had been returned; Dick Royston being just thrown. This was the general rule at all the local elections: our little band of "conspirators" were pretty sure to return their candidates, or a good majority of them. Eventually Mr James Leach "put up," and he was elected to nearly every public body in the town; and this through the agency of the party I have mentioned. At this time great interest was taken in many of the elections, notably that of the Local Board.



REMOVAL TO BRADFORD

For a time my connection with Keighley was severed as I went to reside at Bradford. During my stay I became mixed up with literary characters—Mr J. O. Mee, editor of the Bradford Observer; Mr Joseph White, author of a volume of poems and several prose works, and others. I made weekly contributions to the literary column of the Observer. I may mention that many of my best productions date from this period, when I was occupying a cellar cottage in Croft-street, Bradford. Perhaps the Editor will pardon me for introducing my verses, entitled "Joe Hobble; or, fra Howorth to Bradferth":—

Fra Howorth tahn the other day, Bi t' route o' Thornton height, Joe Hobble an' his better hawf Went into Bradferth straight.

Nah Joe i' Bradferth were afore, But sho hed nivver been; But hahsumivver they arrived Safe inta t' Bowling Green.

They gave a lad a parkin pig, As on the street they went, Ta point 'em aat St. George's Hall An' Oastler's Monument. But t'little jackanape being deep, An' thinking they'd nivver knaw, Show'd Joseph Hobble an' his wife T' first monument he saw.

As sooin as Joe gat up ta t' rail, His een blazed in his heead, Exclaimin' they mud just as weel Ha' goan an' robb'd the deead.

But whoivver's ta'en them childer dahn, Away fra poor owd Dick, Desarves his heead weel larapin' Wi' a dahn gooid hazel stick.

T' lad, seein' Joe froth at t' mouth, He sooin tuke ta his heels; For asteead o' Oastler's Monument, He'd shown 'em Bobby Peel's!



PLAY WRITING

It was while in Bradford that I wrote the drama entitled, "The Wreck of the Bella; or, the Life and Adventures of Roger Tichborne." The drama, which was revised by an old Bradford actor, was written for my friend Joe Gledhill's benefit. Joe and a company which he got together played the drama at the Drill Hall, Keighley, and the performance turned out a great success. I had not intended any use for my production beyond for Joe Gledhill's benefit, but he and his company, finding how it "caught on," performed it up and down the district. But its fate was soon sealed, for while it was being played at Lancaster, I received an edict from the Lord Chamberlain to withdraw the drama from the boards under pain of a heavy penalty, as the last trial of the Tichborne case was pending at the time.



AS A COMIC AUTHOR

Returning to Keighley, I turned my pen to writing for a comic annual, which I had brought out under the title of "The Haworth, Cowenheead, and Bogthorn Almenak." This I produced for several years, its contents consisting of rhymes and local dialect sketches. I also started a monthly paper called, "The Keighley Investigator." After the first issue I enrolled on my staff Theophilus Hayes, a gentleman well known in the town, who assumed the editorship of the journal. He wrote the leading articles, while I supplied the comic matter, satires, dialect letters, &c. The periodical had enjoyed an eight months' existence when, unfortunately, my worthy friend, Mr Hayes, was served with a writ for libel. He was summoned to Leeds Assizes, and although the paper engaged eminent counsel (Mr Wheelhouse, Q.C., M.P.), we lost our case, and had to pay a fine of 50 pounds and costs. Mr Hayes underwent a night's incarceration in Armley Gaol, but next morning I managed to secure his release by paying the fine and all costs. The libel action was, I must say, taken with an object by a party of Liberals, through a certain auctioneer in the town. The fact was that the paper was too "hot" to live amongst the mighty men of Keighley. These times were very eventful ones to the town in many ways, particularly in regard to libel actions, for at each of five or six successive Assizes there was a libel case from Keighley—a circumstance which caused the Judge to remark on one occasion that Keighley ought to be called "The City of Libels." I next turned my attention to writing my celebrated work, "T'History o'th' Haworth Railway." I say "celebrated" because the pamphlet ran through so many editions, about 100,000 copies in all, being sold. With the returns I was placed in clover; and now that I look back to the time, I appeared to have money for any purpose except saving it. In collaboration with a young man named Benjamin Hopkinson, son of the late Mr Barber Hopkinson, surveyor of this town, I subsequently undertook the production of "The Keighley Spectator." The paper went on nicely for eleven months, its circulation and our revenue increasing greatly. We had for some time received articles for insertion from a Nonconformist parson in the town, the Rev Mr Gray. The contributions, being on subjects foreign to our non-political and non-sectarian principles, had almost invariably been rejected, until the writer appealed to the printer, who was the proprietor of the paper, and happened to be one of the parson's "flock." The proprietor told Ben and I it was no use—we must insert the Rev Mr Gray's articles. Now, Ben and I were convinced that to publish that gentleman's contributions would be to kill the journal, but the proprietor was firm, and so, as a protest, we resigned our positions as joint-editors. The parson was put in to edit the paper, and when the next number, under his hand, was issued, it was seen that the paper had travelled from Africa to Iceland, as it were—its contents were so cold and watery. This, the first under the Rev. Mr Gray's editorship, proved the last issue of the "Spectator."



THE GUARDIANS AND THEIR VISIT TO YORK CASTLE

In the years 1875-6 the town—and, indeed, the whole country—was greatly interested in the conduct of the Keighley Board of Guardians with respect to the Vaccination Acts. The Guardians refused to direct their medical officer to enforce the Acts, and the Local Government Board finally appealed to the Court of the Queen's Bench for a mandamus against the Guardians, to compel them to put the Vaccination Acts into force in the Keighley district. The mandamus was granted, but the Guardians persistently refused to obey it, and the consequence was that the Local Government Board applied to the Queen's Bench for a writ of attachment against the eight members of the Board who had by their open votes defied the law—Messrs R. A. Milner (chairman), J. B. Sedgwick, Titus Ogden, John Jeffrey, Hezekiah Tempest, David Normington, James Newbould and Samuel Johnson. Johnson afterwards promised obedience, and was released from the attachment, which was granted by the Court of Queen's Bench. I shall never forget the "rumpus" there was on Friday, the 11th August, 1876, when the High Sheriff and his officers came to Keighley to arrest the Guardians mentioned. Thousands of people were in the streets. The Sheriff's officers secured the Guardians, and conveyed them to the Devonshire Hotel. About 2 o'clock in the afternoon the Guardians came out of the Devonshire yard in a conveyance, which, contrary to expectations, proceed along North-street. It was originally the intention of the driver to go to Bingley station, but fearing he would not have time for the journey, he pulled up at Keighley station. Here both platforms were besieged with demonstrative crowds. The train was missed, and the crowd unyoked the horses from the conveyance. A number of mechanics seized the shafts, and wheeled the vehicle with its occupants through the streets of the town. Indescribable scenes took place. William Smith, an auctioneer, who was suspected of complicity in the Sheriff's operations, was badly handled. Finally, the Sheriff hoisted a flag of truce, and the Guardians announced that they had been granted another night's freedom on condition that they would leave quietly by train the next day. On Saturday the seven martyrs proceeded to York Castle.



CHAPTER XVII

THE KEIGHLEY GLORY BAND

Much interest was taken, I remember, in the visit to Keighley of a social and temperance reformer of the name of Captain John Ball. He had two "lieutenants" with him, named Mountain and Roberts, both good at "spouting." Their meeting place was the old Independent chapel in Upper Green, and the services drew large congregations, many people of various denominations attending. The work went on very well for some time, and I believe that a fair amount of good was done; but, unfortunately, Captain Ball "could not stand his corn," and—if Dame Rumour was to be believed—frequently indulged in a "wee drappie," and occasionally overstepped the mark of moderation. Of course the people attending his services made great capital out of the ugly rumours, and one and another commenced to pull the "captain" in pieces. Now, I had all along entertained a certain respect for Captain Ball, so I took it upon myself to defend him, writing a pamphlet in which I gave prominence to the fact that it was the aim of all religion to forget and forgive. The little affair blew nicely over, and the congregation continued to hold together, until John had another fall; and the climax was reached when he committed himself for the fourth time by coming to Divine service "blind" drunk. On this occasion one of his lieutenants, who accompanied him, was not exactly sober. The incident reminds me of the old ballad:—

Robin and Johnny were going down t' street; They called at t' first alehouse they chanced to meet. While Robin drank one glass, our Johnny drank two, An' they both got a drunk as my granny's old sow.

It was truly an awkward position for any man to be in. Captain Bell could not make a defence, and he was excommunicated from the "Glory Band." Perhaps the following verses, extracted from my piece entitled "My Visit to t' Glory Band," will give some idea of the incident. I paid my visit in company with "Owd Jennet, t' Ranter, fra Havercake-row":—

So they prayed, an' they sang, i' ther owd fashioned way, Until a gert chap says, "I've summat to say;" An', bi t'heart, I'st a fallen dahn sick i' mi pew, But I thowt at toan hawf he sed worn't trew; Fer he charged Parson Ball wi' bein' drunk i't'street, 'At he'd been put ta bed three times i' one neet.

"Does ta hear," says owd Jennet, "what t'hullet is sayin'? He's usin' his scandal asteead o' bein' prayin'; Fer John Ball is respected by ivvery one, Soa I salln't believe a word abaat John; Fer him an' ahr Robin are two decent men, Soa pray yah nah hearken they'll speak fer thersen.

"Soa all wor nah silent,—they mud hear a pin fall; Fer nobody wor hissin' or clappin' at all. Scarce hed long Gomersall spun out his yarn— Wi' his two blazin' een he had scarcely sat dahn, Than John stood up on his pins in a minute;— An' rare an' weel pleased wor I an' owd Jennet.

"My brethren," he sed, wi' a tear in his ee, "You sall hear for yourselns my accusers an' me, An' if I be guilty—man's liable ta fall As well as yer pastor an' servant, John Ball; But let my accuser, if faults he hes noan, Be t' first, an' no other, ta throw the first stoan.

"I've drunk wine an' porter, I do not deny, But then my accusers hev not tell'd you why; So ther false accusation I feel it more keen, 'Cause I've hed the lumbago i' both o' my een; Besides, mi back warked as if it wor broke, An' mi throit's been so parched wol I thowt I sud choke.

"I've been soa distracted, an' handled soa bad, Wol I thowt monny a time I sud ommost goa mad; An't' doctor hes tell'd me ther wor noa other way Nobbut going ta Blackpool or else Morecambe Bay; An' charged me ta mind, if I sat dahn to dine, Ta lig inta t' porter, an't' brandy, an't' wine.

"Soa nah, my accusers, what hev you ta say? You can reckon that up in yer awn simple way; But if ther's a falsehood in what I hev sed nah, I wish mi new hat wod turn into a cah; So this is my answer, an' this mi defence." "Well done!" sed owd Jennet, "he's spokken some sense."

Soa his speech nah he ended, but it touched 'em i't' wick, Fer we all could see plainly it wor nowt but a trick; And Jennet declared—tho' she might be too rude— If he'd come up to t' dinner he sud hev some home-brewed, Fer i' spite o' ther scandal sho wor praad on him yet, An' if he drank wine an' porter who'd owt ta do wi' 't.



WITH THE LATE CHARLES BRADLAUGH, M.P.

It was on Shrove-Tuesday in the year 1862 (I think this is the number of the year; unfortunately I did not keep a diary, and I have nothing but my memory to go by) that I accompanied the late Mr Charles Bradlaugh, M.P., on a Secularist lecturing excursion to Sutton and Silsden. At Sutton Mr Bradlaugh was well received by the Radicals of the village, who invited him into a room, where they entertained him to some refreshment. Mr Bradlaugh "pitched" in front of the Bay Horse Inn, speaking from a chair which I had borrowed from the landlady of the inn. The subject of Mr Bradlaugh's lecture was "More pork and less prayer: more bacon and fewer priests;" and I must confess that he dug his javelin with some vigour into the parsons. The audience was for the most part composed of old men and old women, who seemed delighted with the lecture, especially with the thrusts at the "religious gentlemen." One of the old women exclaimed that they could do with some more bacon if they could get it, and fewer parsons. There were, said she, quite plenty of parsons, there being two of them in that district. At the close of the lecture I went round with my cap, and collected a few shillings. Mr Bradlaugh then went down to Silsden, and in the evening lectured on the same subject in the Oddfellows' Hall, which was crowded at a penny admission fee. Leaving Silsden, we walked to Keighley—the railway not having yet been laid up the valley. On the way I had many interesting bits of conversation with the man who later in life was to create such a stir in the world—the man who was first errand boy, then coal dealer, Sunday school teacher, free-thought lecturer, soldier, solicitor's clerk, and, finally, Member of Parliament. The conversation ran mostly upon soldiering, Mr Bradlaugh telling me that he had served for three years in the Dragoon Guards, chiefly in Ireland. General Garibaldi also occupied a good part of our talk. Mr Bradlaugh expressed great interest in the Italian patriot, and said he intended to join the foreign legion which was being formed in London to assist Garibaldi's army and help him in his struggles. He strongly pressed me to take a trip to sunny Italy for the same object, and recited some verses which he had composed on Garibaldi. Mr Bradlaugh dwelt very little indeed upon religious matters, only saying that if he were "religious" he should be a Roman Catholic. Thus the time on our journey from Silsden to Keighley sped very pleasantly. It was almost midnight when we got into the town. While at Keighley, Mr Bradlaugh stayed with Mr John Rhodes, who conducted a small temperance hotel in the corner of the Market-place.



THE HEROIC WATCHMAN OF CALVERSYKE HILL

A good deal was made in the town out of an incident in which the watchman at Calversyke Mills played a "heroic" part. It was this way. William Binns, who lived at Calversyke Hill, just below the Reservoir Tavern, occupied one of the top storey rooms in his house as a work-room for wooden models, &c. One night he was cleaning up, and he burned the shavings and rubbish in the fire place. There happened to be a strong wind, and the sparks were wafted out of the chimney and over towards the mills. The watchman noticed the sparks flying about, and "in the execution of his duty," informed the authorities of the matter, and Binns was hauled before the magistrates, and fined 5s and costs. I may say that in those days few persons summoned before the magistrates escaped a fine or its equivalent. In this case the action of the watchman was generally regarded as ridiculous. Now, Binns was an old friend of mine, we having been on the stage together, and at his earnest solicitation I wrote a satire with the title, "The 'Heroic' Watchman of Calversyke Hill," from which I take the following verses:—

He swore by his maker the flames rose so high, That within a few yards, sir, it reached to the sky; And so greatly it lighted up mountains and dales, He could see into Ireland, Scotland and Wales! And so easily the commons did swallow his pill, That they fined the poor artist at Calversyke Hill. Now, there are some foolish people who are led to suppose It was by some shavings this fire first arose. "But yet," says the 'hero,' "I greatly suspect This fire was caused by the grossest neglect. But I'm glad it's put out, let it be as it will," Says the "heroic" watchman of Calversyke Hill. So, many brave thanks to this "heroic" knave, For thousands of lives no doubt he did save; And but for this "hero" the disaster had spread And smothered the nation while sleeping in bed; But to save all His people it was the Lord's will, Through the "heroic" watchman of Calversyke Hill!



CHAPTER XVIII THE GREAT TICKET-OF-LEAVE STRIKE

This great dispute in the iron trade of Keighley, about the year 1871, was known as the "ticket-of-leave" strike. The "Iron Lords" of Keighley amalgamated and practised a system of boycotting upon their workpeople. If a workman left one firm and took up with another, the latter would enquire of the man's late employers what were the reasons of his leaving, &c. The reply took the form of a "Ticket," sent under cover, of course, and practically decided the fate of the workman. Containing as this ticket usually did particulars as to the class to which the workman in question belonged; as to the wages he was worth, &c., the scale of ironworkers' wages in the town got to an unbearably low ebb. The masters held the full sway for a while; then the workpeople broke out in open revolt against the pernicious system of their masters, and thus commenced the great "ticket-of-leave" strike. Early in the dispute I was applied to by the strike authorities to write and expose the unfair dealings of the "Iron Lords" of Keighley, and on the first day of the strike I composed several verses to go to the tune of the National Anthem. This was sung at the first great meeting of the strikers held in the Temperance Hall. The verses were as follow:—

Men of the iron trade, Whose hands have England made Greater than all! How can you quietly stand With the chains on your hands? Hear you not through the land Liberty's call?

Long have you been the slaves Of these conniving knaves Now's your relief. Swear you no longer will, Neither in shop nor mill, Tremble for pen or quill, Or ticket-of-leave!

Strike while the iron's hot, And let it not be forgot 'Tis sweet liberty. Stand like true Britons, then, Show you are Englishmen, Make your shouts ring again, "We will be free!"

This is only one of the many effusions I manufactured at the request of the Strike Committee. I wrote pamphlet after pamphlet (some sixteen pages in length) denouncing the unfair system which the masters had put into operation. The strikers went into the outside districts, as far as Bradford and on to Leeds, collecting towards the strike funds. They took with them supplies of my pamphlets and verses, which, so the men told me, won them much sympathy, and, what was infinitely more desirable—much money. But this system of collection to the strike funds was much abused, as has been the case in the present coal strike—men went out begging, ostensibly for the general strike fund, but in reality for their own private funds. Individuals managed to possess themselves of strike "literature," and with its aid found themselves able to rake in the shekels more abundantly than they had been doing by their ordinary work; and so the strike proved a sort of harvest to them. The strikers received much support, I must say, from the publicans. In particular, one Owen Cash the landlord of the "Devonshire Tap," provided free dinners as well as suppers. Then "Bob" Walton and a pork butcher in Upper Green each gave a whole pig; and there were many other gifts in kind for the out o' work workers. Of course there were those among the strikers ever ready to take a mean advantage of a kind action. A good many of the shopkeepers allowed goods on credit; but many of the people to whom they extended this privilege failed to show up again after the strike was settled. When this settlement was arrived at, it was at the expense of the masters. At this juncture the Strike Committee was not altogether without funds, for they had a surplus of something like 40 pounds. There were various suggestions made as to the disposal of this money, one of them being that it should be handed to Bill o' th' Hoylus End for his services in the "strike literature department." This suggestion was embodied in a motion, but the proposer got no seconder, and thus there remained wanting a bridge over the chasm existing between the money and myself; but the bridge is still wanting!



THE PARISH PINDER

Perhaps a reference in my "Recollections" to William Speak (alias "Bawk"), the parish pinder, will not be out of place. "Billy," as the gentleman was ordinarily called, occupied the position of pinder for a score of years. He was well known in the town, not merely on account of his official duty in taking care of stray animals, but of personal peculiarities which made him a public character. Yes; he certainly had his eccentricities had Billy Speak. One peculiarity about him in the eyes of the townspeople was that he was seldom, if ever, seen abroad in the daytime; but at night he always appeared to be very busy. Of course rumour is rumour; but some people went so far as to say when his "trade" was slack, Billy would not object to opening a gate and allowing the animals in the field to come out upon the highway, thus affording a nice capture for the pinfold. It was also said that the pinder had received many sound thrashings from farmers whom he had met at night for these little acts of misdemeanour. In this connection I may mention that on one occasion a goose belonging to Jerry Wells was placed in the pinfold (which was then in Coney lane) by Billy. The walls of the pound, however, were so low that Jerry's goose flew over them, and went away—the pinder did not know where. Now, old Jerry Wells was a man who enjoyed a good "lark"; and although his goose had come home, he sued Billy in the County Court, on the 12th January, 1853, for "clappin' his gooise in'tat' pinfowd." How the case ended I forget; but I think it would teach the too ardent pinder a valuable lesson. Now, for a long time Billy had to go without a uniform, but at last Barney McVay and others said it was a shame that anyone holding an official position of this kind should not be provided with a uniform. So that a public subscription was started, and the pinder—to enable him the better to uphold the dignity of his office—was presented with a uniform; and at the same time opportunity was taken to uniform the town's crier, Jack Moore, who kept the "Dusty Miller," at Damside. The question of suitable headgear was a momentous and difficult one, but eventually a helmet was selected for the pinder, with a cocked hat for the town's crier. "Bawk" did not live long to enjoy his uniform. He died in May, 1875, and was followed to the grave by his wife a few days afterwards.



ADVENTURE WITH A SHARK

It was in 1872 that James Leach and David Hey and myself purchased a large shark at Hull. The shark had apparently been harpooned at sea, and washed into the Humber. It was secured by some fishermen, and they offered it for sale by public auction. A brother of George Swire, of Keighley, chanced to be in Hull at the time, and hearing of the sale, he sent word to us at Keighley about it. My friend Leach—who would be close upon sixty years old at the time—was deputed to Hull to purchase the shark, and he effected the bargain for 3 pounds 17s 6d. The shark was seventeen feet in length; it was brought to Keighley by rail, and there were many people to witness the landing of the monster. We took it to the Burlington laithe (now used as an auction room by Mr T. S. Lister). I painted a glowing scenic piece for the entrance to the exhibition—picturing the shark swallowing a whole boat-load of people! I was also put on to act as showman, and in that capacity—not in my capacity as a private citizen—I told stories of the voracious appetite of the shark when alive. Many blankets had been found in the shark, not to mention a barrel or two of beer. Leach stood at the door turning a box organ, which we had bought cheaply; and David Hey undertook to look after the naphtha lamps, &c. Well, for a week the show went on very well, and we had large numbers of visitors. Towards the end of the week, the fish began to smell, so we paid Joseph Gott, taxidermist, Market-street, 5 pounds to cure the shark. In the meantime we purchased a tent and additional naphtha lamps, and when the curing process was completed, and we had had a box made in which to place the shark, we started on our first expedition, going to Haworth. Our visit here was attended by a slight misfortune. We had got the tent pitched, and a good audience in it, when one of the naphtha lamps exploded and set fire to the canvas top. Luckily we succeeded in extinguishing the flames before they had done more than burn a hole in the canvas top; and the aperture was covered with a shawl, which my friend Leach was wearing. As on the occasion of my visit to Haworth in the garb of a monkey, with Jack Spencer, the Haworth folk thought it a joke, and swore that the shark "wor made o' leather." But after they had examined it, I think they were convinced it was the real thing. We next took the show to Clayton, and here we were unable to get lodgings, and had to sleep in the tent along with the shark. Before daybreak we were leaving Clayton for Vicar's Croft, Leeds. It was moonlight, and I shall never forget an incident which happened on the way. Certainly we must have formed a very curious spectacle. A grey galloway and cart, with Dave Hey as driver; myself on the cart balancing the long box; and James Leach sitting with the box organ on his back. Leach saw our shadow in the strong moonlight, and rather astonished us by exclaiming—"There's Bill o' th' Hoylus theear—he can wag his tongue like a lamb's tail; and Dave o' th' Damside—he can whistle an' sing an' he's a houseful o' little barns; by gum, I wish I wor at home wi' ahr Sarah!" The rest of the journey he seemed to be occupied in deep thought; and when we got the tent erected in Vicar's Croft he "broke out in open rebellion," and refused to play the organ. "Nay," says he, "no more organ playing for me; I'm bahn ta dissolve partnership wi' ye, an' tak t' first train ta Keighley." He suited his words to action and returned home. Of course this rather upset things, but Dave and I determined to go on with the business. Our visit to Leeds brought in a few pounds. Hey then insisted on our going up in the Lake District. I objected strongly, but had eventually to give in, and, to make a long story short, we landed at Windermere. We did very poor business, barely paying expenses; and such was the case when we moved to Keswick and other places around the Lake District. We next shifted to Morecambe, where we passed a very profitable week, and then embarked in a fishing smack which was returning to Fleetwood. We were overtaken by a fearful storm, and the fishermen were fully occupied in keeping their boat right side up. Hey was down in the hold, having left me to take care of the shark. The sea swept over the sides, and I had great difficulty in retaining the box containing our treasure. I shouted to Dave to come and help me, but the only answer I got was that if he was going to be drowned he "wod dee happy." When we got to Fleetwood, some time elapsed before we were able to land, and when we at last did set foot on the shore, I said to myself, "No more shark showing for me." Luck seemed to be in the way just then, for a gentleman who came in to see the shark asked me what I would sell it for. I told him I would take 20 pounds for the whole concern—shark, tent, box organ, &c. But he said he only wanted the shark. After much bargaining I brought the price down to 14 pounds for the lot, and he accepted this, and returned the tent, box organ, lamps, &c., and out of these Hey and I made another sovereign. The gentleman purchased the shark for a museum in Fleetwood. Dave o' th' Damside and Bill o' th' Hoylus End were now rich for once in their lives, but—I almost shrink from telling it—by the time they got to Skipton they had spent every penny of the money, and had to walk to Keighley, from where they had been absent about six months.



CHAPTER XIX

THE BIG PIKE AND THE PRIZE RAM

It was not very long after our adventure with the shark, described last week, that Dave o' th' Damside and I had a "go" with a monster pike. This pike was caught in the old river at Utley by Sam Friar. It was of a tremendous size, and, no doubt, had a good history; for, among other things, the fish was short of one eye. Dave and I obtained possession of the pike, and we had it on exhibition one Saturday in the Market-place. I was again put in to describe the show, and I have no doubt that I made the most of the "recommendations" of the "one-eyed" monster. At night we cut the fish up and sold it; and many would be the Sunday dinners that the big pike would provide. Hey and your humble servant next turned their attention to a fine large ram, which had been purchased by Mr Patrick McShee at a sale of the farm stock of Mr Thomas Brigg, Calversyke Hill. The ram had won many prizes at agricultural shows, and we had it on exhibition in a shop in North-street, now occupied by Mr Whitworth, tobacconist. At the time, the Tichborne case was in the public mind, so we gave the sheep the name, "Sir Roger Tichborne." Many people came to see the prize ram, the visitors including farming gentlemen of the town and district; so that we fared very well with our show. Then we added a monkey and a bull-dog, and, what with the ram, monkey, and bull-dog, there was a glorious row! But the greater the noise the greater was the desire of the public to pay a visit to the show, and this continued the case, to our unqualified satisfaction, for some time. The sheep, being a prize animal, had clearly fared wisely and well in Mr Brigg's possession, and, whether it was from heart-ache at the loss of a good home or what else, the animal soon pined away, refusing to eat or drink, and its death, I think, marked the termination of the connection of Dave o' th' Damside and Bill o' th' Hoylus End with "show business."



MR LEACH AND THE BATHS AND WASH-HOUSES

Soon after my worthy friend, Mr James Leach, betook himself from "show land," he commenced in earnest the study of politics and local affairs. He managed, with my assistance, &c., to obtain a seat on the Board of Guardians, and also on the Local Board of Health. Then, there was a great agitation concerning the health and cleanliness of the people, and it was "ordained by the elders of the Senate that baths and wash-houses should be erected and built throughout the length and the breadth of the land." According to the "Chronicles of Keighley," "the governors of the city did not think it meet to comply with the law of the Senate, and refused so to do. Whereupon other elders of the city gathered themselves together, and determined in their hearts that baths and wash-houses should be built, and that the cost thereof should be defrayed out of the tax imposed on the relief of the poor in the land." This use, or misuse, of the public money caused strife among the people, who for the most part opposed the scheme. A vestry meeting, however, was called, and though very thinly attended, the opportunity was taken to elect the Commissioners of the Baths and Wash-houses, and it was decided to proceed with the erection of the building, the cost of which was estimated at 6,000 pounds. But when this money had been expended the baths and wash-houses were far from completed, and, at the request of the Commissioners, another 2,000 pounds was granted for the work. Still this proved sadly insufficient, and "the inhabitants of the land began to be mightily displeased at the conduct of the Commissioners, by reason that they demanded more gold." The people were for the third time called to a vestry meeting, and on this occasion there was a large and animated attendance. The Commissioners asked for 2,500 pounds, and this, amid great tumult and shouting, the people emphatically declared they would not lend: "One named Leach sware that no more gold should be granted." After much lively demonstration, the meeting ended with the decision "that the matter should not be entertained until the end of that day twelve months." When that time came round the people were once more called together. The money was still refused, and it was ordered that a poll of the town should be taken. The poll showed a great majority against granting the money, and the result of this decision was that the baths and wash-houses had to remain in their unfinished state for seven years. At the end of the seven years the building was, some way or other, completed; and thus an end was put to one of the greatest farces and pieces of blundering and mismanagement that has occurred in the town—before or after.



ASTROLOGY AND BUMPOLOGY

It was a co-worker of mine, Joseph Hopkinson ("Joe Hobble"), a warpdresser, of Haworth, who introduced me to Jack Kay and Harry Mac, two fortune tellers who were in Haworth. Harry Mac had a book with which he told fortunes, and this book, which was an English translation of a Greek work on astrology, Joe Hopkinson borrowed for me. I perused the book in the hope of one day being able to do a little fortune telling. Harry Mac and Jack Kay had done very well out of the book, and their knowledge of it; but my object in learning to presage events, was not as a means of livelihood, but in order to appease my appetite for a bit of fun. It was while I was "reading, learning, and inwardly digesting" the contents of the book that Professor Fowler, the well-known phrenologist, came to Keighley and gave lectures on the science of bumps, or phrenology, in the old Mechanics' Hall—now the Yorkshire Penny Bank. I attended one of those lectures in company with Morgan Kennedy, a Keighley man, who afterwards became a professional phrenologist. When the time came for practical demonstrations the audience called out for me to go on the platform. I complied, and the Professor set himself to "feel my bumps." In the first place he told the audience that "this was one of the few heads that he had had the opportunity of examining," which, of itself, was neither very favourable, nor very unfavourable. But there was suppressed tittering among the audience when he continued, "I have been on the Continent, and have examined the heads of Louis Napoleon, Victor Hugo, Garibaldi, and Louis Kossuth. This head, I may venture to say, rather touches upon those." I felt that the Professor had got out of his reckoning in making these comparisons; for although I had done a little soldiering, and was a poet in my own rough way, I knew that I had no claim whatever to be a governor, seeing that I had never been able to govern myself. However, I got through the ordeal. The result of my visit to Professor Fowler was that I combined the study of bumpology with that of astrology, and I got on very well, and had some nice quiet fun, with telling people—mostly servant girls in public-houses—their fortunes, and describing their bumps. Many people, I know, really thought I was a "nap-hand" in the work. One incident I remember well. A young man of the name of Tom Smith, a warpdresser, one night came to ask me to rule the planets and tell him whether he and his wife would ever live together again. I told my visitor that I could do nothing for him that night, but if he would call the following evening I should then be prepared to "invoke the infernal regions." He was at my house the next night, and asked me whether "ahr Emma" would ever live with him again. I said "Well, Tom, the first thing you will have to do is to go upstairs blindfolded." I placed a bandage over his eyes, and sent him upstairs, having told him to walk quietly across the middle of the chamber floor. I had suspended the beam of a warp-dressing frame from the ceiling. Tom walked against this beam, which swung back upon him, and, apparently, greatly frightened him, for of all the screaming I ever heard, it took place that night in that chamber. Tom was blindfolded, and, in addition to that, the room was in darkness; and when he was able to pick his way out of the "chamber of horrors," he beat a hasty retreat from the house. This is a sample of the fun I had during my experiences as a humble advocate (?) of the "art of professing to reveal future events in the life of another."



ALONE IN LONDON

Many townsfolk will remember Jim Blakey. He was a young fellow who had many peculiarities in his composition. One of these was that his mind was for ever bent upon travelling, and, not being short of money, he was often able to gratify his desires. Knowing that I had travelled a little, he would have me to accompany him to London. After certain adventures on the way we got to the big city, and secured lodgings. Blakey was not altogether well, so I left him at our hotel while I went for a walk through some of the parts of London I was already acquainted with. When I got back, however, Blakey had "gone—left no address," and, besides, he was the paymaster, and the only money I had was 2.5d. So that I could truly appreciate the situation of being "alone in London." I was wandering about the city all night, and in the morning found myself going towards Fulham. I was wearing a good big overcoat, and had also in my possession a new copy of "Goldsmith's poems:" these I had resolved to leave with my "uncle." On the road, however, I fell in with a wedding party, and disposed of the volume of poems for 3s 6d to the bridegroom, who said he should make a present of it to his bride. Going on to Fulham I fell in with an old friend from Keighley. I stayed a day or two with him, and then sailed from London Bridge to Hull. From Hull I walked to Keighley minus my overcoat. I found that Blakey had not come home, but he returned in a day or two, and said he had looked all over London for me. I thought he had deserted me on purpose; so when we were in Edinburgh together shortly afterwards, I arranged with a Leeds guard whom I knew to put Blakey into a North of Scotland train instead of the one for Keighley. This the guard managed all right, poor Blakey being taken 200 miles further from home. When he at last got into the south train he was taken on to Bradford, and he told me that the ten miles' walk from Bradford to Keighley at midnight was worse than travelling the whole 400 miles. Notwithstanding these differences, we continued good friends until he finally left Keighley for Leeds, where he died after a few years.



CHAPTER XX

THE LATE MR LEACH IN LONDON

It was in 1872 that Mr James Leach formed one of a deputation from the Keighley Local Board to London on business relating to the erection of a new railway bridge at Keighley Station. Mr Leach was accompanied by his wife. Arrived at the big city, the deputation made for the law offices of the Houses of Parliament, where they were informed that their presence would not be required until the following morning. Then Mr and Mrs Leach separated from the deputation and went their own way, the "Squire" declaring his determination to see all that was to be seen of London.



IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS

The couple first of all spent a time in the House of Commons listening to the debate, and then they were introduced by Mr (now Sir) Francis Sharp Powell to the (late) Duke of Devonshire. His Grace, Mr Leach told me, seemed mightily pleased to see visitors from Keighley. He stated his desire to "hear t' spekin' i' t' Lords," and his Grace was showing him into the gentlemen's gallery, and Mrs Leach into the ladies' gallery, when Mr Leach objected, exclaiming in by no means suppressed tone:—"Nay, —-, it; they can dew this at t' Keighley Workus, but let me be wi' ahr Sarah." The Duke was good enough to respect the feelings of his visitors, and had Mr and Mrs Leach placed in a private box, where, together, they could listen to the debate going on in the gilded chamber.



AT A FANCY DRESS BALL

After tea at their lodgings—which were at a large hotel in Westminster—Mr Leach started out with his wife, and eventually landed her into a place where bal masque was going on. As the old gentleman described to me on his return, "One o' them hawf donned women com' up ta me, an' puttin' her hand on mi' shoulder sho said, 'Owd boy, you're very welcome.' Then she spied ahr Sarah, an' said 'Is this your wife?' But ahr Sarah said, 'This is noa place for me, Leych, an' ahm net bahn ta stop; soa tha may as weel come.'" With some further persuasion, Mr Leach went out with his wife.



AT SPURGEON'S TABERNACLE

Next morning Mr Leach found that his presence would not be required that day at the House of Commons. He went to hear the Rev C. H. Spurgeon preach at the Tabernacle. "This wor t' one time I ivver really wept," he said, "an' I resolved ta be a better man i' t' future." Mr Leach next visited the Hall of Science, where he heard Mr Charles Bradlaugh preach, and afterwards shook hands with him. St. Paul's Cathedral also received a visit from the Keighley "celebrity."



AN ADVENTURE AT EPSOM RACES

Next day Mr Leach paid a visit to Epsom to see the races. He paid 1s for a stand on a stool, but he had not been in his elevated position many minutes before the stool was kicked from under him, and he was sent sprawling on the ground, this provoking the crowd to great laughter. When Mr Leach looked up he found his stand occupied by another fellow. Smarting from a sense of indignity, the Keighley gentleman "set on" to the intruder, and was struggling to regain possession when the police came up and settled the dispute by saying that neither of the two should stand on the stool. "Ah saw varry little o' t' races," he said, "but ah went back to Lunnon an' saw ahr Sarah."



ROBBED IN PETTICOAT LANE

On Sunday Mr Leach betook himself on a survey in Petticoat-lane, where Jews, Turks, and representatives of nearly every foreign nation were busily carrying on their sales. Our country friend was warned by the police against venturing into this locality. He said "they wodn't get ower him soa easy," and passed on. But he had not gone far ere he found that his pocket-handkerchief was missing. A gentleman had seen the "trick" done, and drew Mr Leach's attention to a youth who stood a few yards away. Mr Leach had not forgot his duties as a policeman, and he ran after the lad and caught him. The prisoner was handed over to a constable, who was able to arrest two other thieves on the spot. Next day Mr Leach appeared at the police court, and gave evidence, and the trio were sentenced to various terms of imprisonment. Our friend was complimented by the Bench for bringing the case forward. One evening Mr Leach found himself in the "seven Dials" neighbourhood in the hope of seeing the famous boxer, Nat Langan (whom he had seen have a "go" with "Brassey," a brass moulder, of Utley). He was in the boxing saloon some time, and when he had occasion to look at his watch, he found that article missing, only a bit of the guard remaining. He raised a "hue-and-cry;" but, of course, nobody knew anything about the theft. And Mr Leach took his departure murmuring, "If this is London, I'm done."



THE FINAL DAY

The deputation was kept in London day after day, until several weeks had passed. The final day at last arrived, and the deputation was ushered into the gorgeous chamber. The petition was presented, and Mr Leach, in answer to the President, and in a dialect which must have puzzled the Londoners present, said; "We're bahn ta build a brig ower t' railway, an' we think it's nowt but reight 'at we sud hev it. Ther's lots o' horses been lamed at t' level crossing. Why, I were varry near being jiggered mysel one neet." Other members of the deputation having given evidence in support of the petition, the party retired. In the end the bridge was erected. Mr Leach and his fellow members of the Local Board were in London about six weeks, and one cannot help thinking that, with an allowance of 1 pound per day for expenses, they would thoroughly enjoy themselves. At least Mr Leach told me that he did.



MR LEACH'S THREE NIGHTS' LECTURES

On his return to Keighley, Mr Leach and, indeed, the rest of the deputation was made a god of, in certain quarters. In Jonas Moore's barber's shop in the Market-place, Mr Leach described his visit to London to a few "favoured" customers, and provoked unlimited laughter. It was Jonas Moore and Joe Town who induced him to give a public lecture on his travels. An elaborate bill was prepared, "almost as big as a house side," informing the burgesses of Keighley that Mr James Leach would give "three nights' lectures in the Temperance Hall, on his life and travels in London during his six weeks' commission from the Local Board of Health." A few frequenters of the barber's shop in the Market-place suggested that Mr (now Sir) Isaac Holden should be asked to take the chair. Mr Holden was accordingly communicated with, and came down to Keighley in his carriage; he finally consented to preside at the lectures. Mr Holden was punctual on the first night of the lecture, when there was an overflowing audience. This was, I believe, Mr Holden's first, or nearly his first, public appearance, and the occasion served to bring his name very widely before the people. He took the opportunity to speak upon local politics. He mentioned that he had not the least doubt that the lecturer's intentions were good and honest. The lecture consisted of all the funny stories Mr Leach could remember concerning his visit to London; these he gave in his well-known quaint style, in broad dialect, and the progress was frequently interrupted by the hilarity of the audience. Mr Holden, I can say, was quite "flabbergasted" with the affair, and he looked as if he would have liked to drop through the stage. For the second night's lecture there was no Mr Holden to preside. It was now Mr Leach's turn to be uneasy. He sought diligently for a chairman. The audience proposed Bill o' th' Hoylus End, as being Mr Leach's right-hand man; but the lecturer objected, saying Bill would most likely be "drukken." Finally, Mr Emanuel Teasdale, a politician of the old school of Radicals, took the chair. After a political speech from the chairman, Mr Leach continued his lecture with the same general acceptance, and to an audience quite as large as that of the previous evening. On the third and concluding night, Mr Leach had even greater difficulty in securing a chairman. There was neither Mr Holden nor Mr Emanuel Teasdale. The audience successively proposed "Bawk" (the parish pinder), "Doad o' Tibs" (bill poster), Jacky Moore (town's crier), Bill Spink, and others. The lecturer objected to each of these, and, in despair, accepted Bill o' th' Hoylus End. I officiated as best I could, and I utter no untruth in saying that I had a good deal to do; for I had to undertake the greater share in entertaining the large number of people present. Mr Leach had well nigh exhausted his stock of lecture "material" on the second evening, and on the third night I had to fill up the time with telling stories and giving recitations. It can be truly said that the three lectures were regarded as a great treat by those who heard them.