Adventures and Recollections

by Bill o'th' Hoylus End

The late Mr Busfeild Ferrand was a typical English squire. In life he was the owner of the St. Ives’ estate at Bingley. He sprang from an aristocratic family, who had ever been loyal to monarchy and country. Trained as a lawyer, he, however, like many other English gentlemen, did not follow his profession for gain or popularity. This training served him well in public life, and augmented the many sterling qualities of his character and his utility in the unpaid public service. He was a soldier, a civil administrator, an ardent and exceedingly able politician—Tory, of course, to the back-bone. He was a leading advocate for the “Ten Hours Bill.” The champions of that great movement were Fielding, Ferrand, and Oastler. Mr Ferrand was instrumental in passing the Truck Act, which did so much service to working men, in removing the deceptions and impositions of indirect payment of wages. He was a great advocate of allotments for working men, and set the first example to the wealthy and willing to provide the people with ground for healthy open-air recreation. As an agriculturist he was an enthusiast, and all who had tenancy of land under him found all well so long as they observed strictly the conditions of their tenancy, but woe to them and to all concerned if they infringed in the slightest degree the iron rule of discipline set down by Mr Ferrand. In every capacity of life, he was a disciplinarian who could not brook any breach of rule. Poaching, and every offence that interfered with the rights of the preserves on his estate, called forth prosecution for the offence. My first recollection of Mr Ferrand dates from the general election when this part of the country was contested by Messrs Morpeth and Milton. I was about eight years old at the time. The two politicians visited every part of the district, and on one occasion the Tory party came through Hoylus End. I, and my “mates” were wearing party favours; but they were all “yellow,” while I was “blue.” Mr Ferrand was with the electioneers, and he must have noticed that I was the most conspicuous Tory youngster; for he drew from his pocket a big handful of coppers and threw them down to me. From that day, I can say, I have been a Tory. During the campaign the local rhymesters and writers were very busy concocting electioneering “squibs;” and, young as I was, I tried my ’prentice hand along with the rest. It was with astonishment and amazement that my parents and my companions received the following doggerel:—

Morpeth and Milton went a baking pies,
Milton gave to Morpeth two black eyes.

THE KEIGHLEY RIOT

About the year 1852—at the time of the Keighley Fair—there was some poaching in Bingley Wood. A gamekeeper had come across the poachers, who seized and tied him to a tree; suspicion fell upon some factory workers, and they were taken before the court at Keighley. Mr Ferrand was in the court, but took no part in the judicial consideration of the case, which lasted nearly the whole of the afternoon. A barrister, who resided at Settle, was for the defence. It proved a case of wrong identity, and the prosecution was dismissed. The real poachers had escaped, some from the country. A rowdy element excited the people against Mr Ferrand, and they even went so far as to create a riot, aiming their missiles in the street at Mr Ferrand. It was a case of one brave man and a mob. At last, after pursuing his way fearlessly of their missiles, he was blocked, and had to read the Riot Act at premises now used by Messrs Laycock & Sons, curriers. The police-constables were of no avail against the mob, and soldiers were procured from Bradford. The roughs found the soldiers unwelcome visitors on the scene, and the streets were soon cleared. No prisoners were made. Capt. Ferrand took part in leading the soldiers, and those who were so valiant before were now no longer to be seen defiant; they had fled. Mr John Garnett, school-master, wrote some lines on the affair, called “The Baron’s Revenge.”

A CHANGE OF LIFE

Begging pardon for this digression, and returning to recollections of my own life, I may say that a longing had now come over me for a quiet term of life, and I accordingly settled down at home. Work was once more found for me at Messrs Lund’s mill; indeed, I have often since thought that the late Mr William Lund must have stipulated in his will that work was at all times to be found for me. Off and on, I must have worked at North Beck Mills some score times, and each time there was a sort of welcome reception for me. Perhaps my father’s life-long connection with the firm had something to do with it. Be that as it may, I settled down, determined to make an entire alteration in my course of life. A visit paid to William Sugden, and I was possessed, I thought, of one of the grandest suits of clothes there ever was.

JOINING THE SUNDAY SCHOOL

Then my parents had a talk with me as to joining the Sunday school, and, after some hesitation, I connected myself with the Wesleyan Sunday school at Exley Head. Mr Edward Pickles, manufacturer, Holme Mill (now living, I believe, at Bradford), was the superintendent of the school, and other of the officers were Mr John Dinsdale, who had the distinction of being a local preacher, and the late Mr Thomas Bottomley, of Braithwaite. For some six months I attended the school with the regularity of the Prince Smith Clock, and was not absent a single Sunday. Fellow scholars of mine were, William Scott, Hannah Holmes (afterwards married to a missionary, named Kaberry, with whom she went to Africa), Midgley Hardacre, Thomas Binns, John Pearson, and James Smith, locally known as “Jim o’ Aaron’s,” who met his death by falling down a lime kiln. Sunday school work interested me greatly, and it was with much “happiness at heart” that I looked forward to Sunday. I was not long a scholar ere I was made a teacher. Possessed as I was of what I may call a “theatrical” voice, acquired during my career on the stage, the people liked to hear me read, and I was kept fully occupied in reading chapters from the Bible. Yes; the time I spent at the Sunday school was a very happy one.

LED ASTRAY BY POLITICS

But, unfortunately, a few of my companions got me to bother my head with local politics. There was a Local Board election approaching at Keighley, and some new-made acquaintances led me, as it were, to contract the prevailing political fever; and, as events turned, it was not meet that I should do so. My sinning friends were Bill Spink, better known as “Old Bung;” “Porky Bill,” Jonas Moore, and others. I struggled hard for the particular party which I favoured, writing “squibs” and all kinds of doggerel, until I became literally saturated with politics. In the meantime I had continued my attendance at the Sunday School, though my duties were entered into with less zest and enjoyment than formerly. I well remember Mr Pickles, the superintendent, saying he had no doubt I should be a great man some time. But the insinuating influences of certain companions acquired during my political career soon told upon me; the old saw says “Show me your comrades and I will tell you who you are.” I got associated with people older than myself, many of them wool-combers from Bradford and other places—men who had seen the world in all its dodgy and dark ways, and who knew how to take advantage of people who hadn’t. I had plenty of money, and I found plenty of friends to help me to spend it. I began a retrograde movement, finally severing my connection with the Sunday school, a step which gave my parents great uneasiness. I attribute my falling off entirely to the bad companionship into which I was led. They were too “old” for me, and I was rather too “soft” for them. Many were the scrapes into which they brought me, and it was in consequence of one of these that I and a female companion whose acquaintance I had made started one morning on the tramp for Middlesborough.