In one instance the discussion took a humorous turn:—the name of a certain jovial host, with whom I had a talk in Swaledale, appeared subscribed to a letter in the Richmond Chronicle, and as it furnishes us with a fresh specimen of local dialect, I take leave to quote a few passages therefrom. After expostulating with the editor for “prentan” a letter which somebody had written in his “neame,” the writer says, “but between ye an’ me, I believe this chap’s been readin’ a buke put out by yan White, ’at was trailin’ about t’ Deales iv hay-time, an’ afoare he set off to gang by t’ butter-tubs to t’ Hawes, he ast me what publick-house he was to gang te, an’ I tell’t him t’ White Hart; an’ becoz he mebby fand t’ shot rayther bigger than a lik’d, he’s gi’en t’ landlord a wipe iv his buke aboot t’ length of his bill, an’ me aboot t’ girth o’ me body—pity but he’d summat better to rite aboot; but nivver heed, it nobbut shows ’at my meat agrees wi’ me, an’ ’at t’ yal ’at I brew ’s naythur sour ner wake, an’ ’at I drink my shar’ on’t mysel: but if I leet on him, or can mak’ oot t’ chap ’at sent ye t’ letter, I’ll gi’ ’em an on-be-thinkin.”
Sheffield, too, has not yet ceased to reprove me for having published the obvious fact, that the town is frightfully smoky, and unclean in appearance and in its talk. If I were to make any alteration in this particular, it would be to give emphasis, not to lighten the description. A town which permits its trade to be coerced by ignorance, and where the ultimate argument of the working-classes is gunpowder or a knock on the head, should show that the best means have been taken to purify morals as well as the atmosphere and streets, before it claims to be “nothing like so bad as is represented.” But, the proverb which declares that “people who eat garlic are always sure it doesn’t smell,” will perhaps never cease to be true.
Of the £14,000,000 worth of woollen and worsted goods exported in 1859, Yorkshire supplied the largest portion; and still maintains its reputation for “crafty wit and shrinking cloth,” as shewn by the increase in the manufacture of shoddy. One of the manufacturers at Batley has made known in a printed pamphlet, that 50,000,000 pounds of rags are at the present time annually converted into various kinds of so-called woollen goods. We walk on shoddy as it covers our floors; and we wear shoddy in our stockings and under-garments, as well as in capes and overcoats. Turning to mineral products, we find that in 1859, Yorkshire raised 1,695,842 tons of ironstone, and 8,247,000 tons of coal, worth in round numbers £3,573,000. And with all this there is an increase in the means and results of education, and an abatement of pauperism: in 1820, the poor’s-rate in Hull was seven shillings and eightpence in the pound, in 1860, not more than eightpence.
And to mention facts of another kind:—by the digging of a drain on Marston Moor, a heap of twenty-five or thirty skeletons was discovered, around which the clay retained the form of the bodies, like a mould; a bullet fell from one of the skulls, and in some the teeth were perfectly sound, 213 years after the battle. At Malton, during a recent excavation of the main street, one hundred yards of the Roman highway leading from Derby to York were laid bare, three feet below the present surface. Scarborough is building new batteries on her castled cliff, and replacing old guns by new ones; and Hull is about to add to its resources by the construction of a new dock. The much-needed harbour of refuge is, however, not yet begun, as wrecks along the coast after easterly storms lamentably testify.
This Month in Yorkshire was the second of my books of home-travel; and it was while rambling along the cliffs and over the hills of the famous county, that I conceived it possible to interest others as well as myself in the Past and the Present, in the delightful natural aspects and the wonderful industry of our native country to a yet wider extent; and therein I have not been disappointed. To the objection that my works are useless as guide-books, I answer, that no intelligent reader will find it difficult to follow my route: distances are mentioned with sufficient accuracy, the length of my longest day’s walk is recorded, whereby any one, who knows his own strength, may easily plan each day’s journey in anticipation. By aid of the map which accompanies the present volume either planning or reference will now be facilitated.
Next to ourselves, there is perhaps nothing so interesting to us as our own country, which may be taken as a good reason why a book about England finds favour with readers. For my part let me repeat a passage from the foreword to the second edition:—“I know that I have an earnest love for my subject; feeling proud of the name of Englishman, and the freedom of thought, speech, and action therein involved; loving our fields and lanes, our hills and moorlands, and the shores of our sea, and delighting much to wander among them. Happy shall I be if I can inspire the reader with the like emotions.”
W. W
London, March, 1861.