In what is known as the Stroud Valley, Gloucestershire, or, as it was deservedly called by Queen Victoria, the Golden Valley, stands a little straggling village called the Thrupp, in which on July 12, 1844, I was born; but my early recollections of this beautiful valley began at a village about one mile distant, named Swells Hill, to which my parents afterwards removed. This village is situated on the side of the eastern portion of the Cotswolds, a district full of beautiful hills, gorge-like valleys, dells and glades, celebrated not only for its beauty and historical associations but for its numerous industries. Swells Hill overlooks the busy village of Brimscombe and is on the fringe of the delightful Minchinhampton Common, which consists of some thousand acres of open country; its highest part being about 650 feet above the sea level; on it, there are many local traditions of great battles having been fought, and on one particular spot in the centre of the Common the celebrated George Whitfield preached in 1743 to thousands of people.
Minchinhampton Common was presented to the parish so named in the reign of Henry VIII by Dame Alice Hampton. On it are now golf links, which are well known all over the country and many notable contests have been played there by some of our most celebrated professionals. From the quarries on this Common I have often collected fossils of snakes and other reptiles which I suppose belonged to some prehistoric period, but how long ago I have been unable to learn. Pit dwellings, long and round tunnels with camps and earthworks, abound in this district. Some of the depressions in the surface of the Common vary in depth. I used to be told that they were the burying places of those who had fought in the days of the Civil Wars. I cannot of course guarantee the correctness of this statement, but I do know that these depressions have frequently given me in my school days very much pleasure, as in the winter they were often filled with snow, and a good run and jump landed one in the centre of the hollow. It was a great pleasure to see who could jump the farthest and come out the wettest.
As far as I can remember, most of my early education, or what may be called my twopenny education, was acquired at an old-fashioned Dame's School and a local Church School where the main ideas of education were answering the questions in Pinnock's "Catechism" and learning, and I must say immediately forgetting, the questions and answers from the Church Catechism; but I have no doubt I received impressions which were useful in after life.
When about nine years of age, I was sent to Amberley School. To reach this School I had to cross Minchinhampton Common, nearly two miles from my home; this distance I traversed sometimes four times a day. At that time home lessons were considered of great importance, but the weariness of them made a lasting impression upon me. However, it was at this School that I obtained the best part of my education.
With Amberley I have many associations never to be forgotten. I remember how when nearing the School I listened for the Master's whistle which he always appeared in the open to blow, and how considerate he was with the boys who came from a distance before marking them late. How on occasions when the hounds on a wintry day came at full speed past our School leave was given to some of us boys to chase with them. Many a good run I have had following them over hedges and ditches until outdistanced, but the excitement left behind very pleasant recollections, and was the cause of my writing the following verses:
Hurrah for To-morrow! 'Tis the first hunting day,
And with the good hounds we'll hark hark away,
For the Fox will be drawn from the thick bushy wood,
It's the rascal that stole the grey duck's little brood.
You remember the time, 'twas one bright summer morn,
When the hens had their chicks and the bees had a swarm,
And the duck had her ducklings, and fine ones were they,
As e'er swam on a pond, or play'd pranks in the hay.
Farmer Giles was out early, the sheep had gone wrong,
And old Towler was with him, they scarcely had gone
When that crafty old Reynard, who had watched them away,
Stole the ducks and he had them for dinner that day.
How he must have enjoyed each tender young bone
As he scrunched and he scrunched till each tit-bit was gone;
But who would begrudge him a feast in his den,
I dare wager a bet he won't do it again.
For we're off in the morn, while the true scent is strong,
To capture his brush and it won't take us long,
For the horses and hounds are all fit for the fray,
So Ahoy! Tally Ho! Tally Ho! Harkaway!
Close by the Schools stands Rose Cottage where Mrs. Craik, then Miss Muloch, wrote her most successful novel "John Halifax, Gentleman." This was published in 1857, the year I was at school, and I have no doubt I must often have seen Miss Muloch when she was writing her great novel. The background of this story runs from Tewkesbury through Nailsworth to Amberley Common; the latter, figuring in the novel as Enderly Flats, is described as the highest tableland in England. The whole neighbourhood is identified with incidents delineated in the book, and in Amberley Churchyard the little blind daughter of John Halifax and Ursula lies at rest.
In the small village of Woodchester, in the valley below Amberley, there is an important Monastery which contains many interesting associations, but my recollections are more concerned with the parish church of Woodchester where I remember being taken by my mother to see what is left of some old Roman villa with tessellated pavement and other remains. I believe these are uncovered at certain times and the public allowed to inspect them.
One other of my youthful enjoyments was the occasional fishing and bathing in the Thames and Severn Canal. This canal joins together at Lechlade these two great rivers. In the canal as it passed through the Golden Valley, there was always a good supply of water and the fishing here was very good. I never got beyond roach, dace and perch, but there were frequently pike and other fish caught by the expert. Anyone who has indulged in fishing, if only as I did in my boyhood, will never forget the fascination it has upon the lover of sport, and I pity the boy who has not the sportive instinct. I learned to swim also in these waters, but want of opportunity in after years prevented my ever becoming a really good swimmer.