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Ebook has 497 lines and 65608 words, and 10 pages

Transcribed by Steven Wood from the Keighley Herald .

ADVENTURES and RECOLLECTIONS OF BILL O'TH HOYLUS END.

TOLD BY HIMSELF.

MY BIRTHPLACE, HOME AND PARENTAGE

A MUSICAL FATHER

A MISCHIEVOUS BOYHOOD

O! HE'S A' ILL 'UN

Dancin', an' jumpin', an' fair going mad-- What can be done with this wild, wicked lad? Plaguin' t'poor cat till it scratches his hand, Or tolling some door wi' a stone an' a band; Rolling i't' mud as black as a coil, Cheeking his mates wi' a "Ha'penny i't' hoil;" Slashin' an' cuttin' wi' a sword made o' wood, Actin' Dick Turpin or bold Robin Hood-- T'warst little imp 'at there is i't' whole street: O! he's a shocker is young Billy Wreet!

Playin' a whistle or drummin' a can, Seein' how far wi' his fingers can span: Breakin' a window wi' throwin' a stone, Then ligs it on Tommy, or Charley, or Jone; Mockin' a weaver when swingin' his spooils, Chief-engineer of a train made o' stooils; Last out o' bed, an' last in at neet-- O! he's a imp is that young Billy Wreet!

Ridin' a pony wi' a rope round its neck, Tryin' to cross a ford or a beck, Lettin' off rockets or swingin' a gate, Walkin' on t'riggin' on t'top of a slate; Out a birds' nestin' an' climbin' up trees, Rivin' his jacket an' burstin' his knees; An' a body can't leave ought safe out o't' neet, But what it's in danger o' daft Willie Wreet!

Breakin' down hedges, an' climbin' up trees, Scalin' the rocks on his hands an' his knees, Huntin', or skatin', or flying a kite, An' seein' how much he can take at a bite; Plaguin' a donkey, an' makin' it kick, Prickin' its belly wi't' end of a stick; An' you who are livin', you'll yet live to see't, That something will happen that scamp Billy Wreet!

A FALSE ALARM

About this time the country was in a state of great turbulency on account of the Plug Drawing and the Chartist Riots. Soldiers were stationed at Keighley, where the late Captain Ferrand had a troop of yeoman cavalry under his charge. One day, I recollect, the Keighley soldiers had a rare outing. This is just how it came about. An old inhabitant, with the baptismal name, James Mitchell, but the locally-accepted name, Jim o'th' Kiers, saw what appeared to him to be the "inimy" on Lees Moor. "Nah," thought Jimmy, "we're in for't if we doan't mind;" and he straightway went down to Keighley and raised the alarm. It was Sunday, and the soldiers, as luck had it, happened to be on a Church parade. Captain Ferrand at once gave the command--like any dutiful general would do--"To arms!" "To arms!" The soldiers thereupon proceeded to the indicated scene of action; I saw the noble warriors gallop past our house "in arms and eager for the fray." But upon reaching the spot marked out by Jim o'th' Kiers, the soldiers were somewhat puzzled and "sore amazed" to find no enemy--that is to say, nothing to mean aught. Jimmy couldn't understand it: he rubbed his eyes to see if he was awake, but rubbing made "not a bit of difference." The nearest thing which they could even twist or twine into "the inimy" was a poor old man with a pair of "arm-oil" crutches. Jimmy having been severely questioned as to the sincerity of his motive in "hevin' t'sowgers aht," the poor old fellow whom they had fallen upon came in for a turn; but the only explanation he could give was that they had been holding a Ranters' camp-meeting, and that he, not being able to get away as rapidly as he could have wished had been left behind. Now they did make a fool of Jim o'th' Kiers, they did that, and the soldiers were jeered and scoffed at a good deal by the crowd. I, a little, wandering, curiosity-seeking specimen of humanity, was among the latter, and I trow I had as much fun out of the affair as was good for me.

A REMOVAL

Soon after this skirmishing--you will have to excuse the absence of any dates, I didn't bethink me to keep a diary--my parents removed from Hoylus-end, and went to live at a farm called Wheat-head, in Fell-lane, now known as the Workhouse Farm.

CHARACTER SKETCHES

My stay at Wheat-head Farm, which lasted about ten years, was to me a very interesting one. I cannot refrain from making a passing allusion to my acquaintance with a character who created quite a sensation at the time. This "character" was no other than "Old Three Laps"--an individual who at his baptism was known as William Sharp. This singularly eccentric specimen of humanity lived at Whorl's Farm, and, as it will be generally known took to his bed through being "blighted" in love. He kept to his bed for about forty years. During the period he was "bed-fast," I often used to go and peep through the window at this freak of nature--for I can scarcely call it anything else. Then, while I was a lad, we had such a thing as a hermit in Holme Wood. The name of this hermit I used to be told was "Lucky Luke." For a score of years did "Luke" live in Holme Wood. I remember my mother giving the old man his breakfast when he used to call at our house. His personal appearance frightened me very much. He wore the whole of his beard, which was of iron-grey colour and reached down to his waist. His garb was composed of rags, tied to his body by the free use of rope. He once told my mother that he had more than once changed clothes with a scarecrow. Sometimes this queer person would never be seen by mortal man for months together, unless it were that I disturbed his solitude occasionally; but then, of course, I was only a boy. "Luke" had a bad name amongst us lads. I know people couldn't fairly make out where he lived; he was wonderfully "lucky," and no doubt he had a comfortable lair somewhere among the rocks and caves. Still the fact remains that farmers often found occasion to complain of pillaging being carried on by night in their gardens and turnip fields. This seems indisputable proof that "Luke" was a vegetarian--maybe, such a one as the Keighley Vegetarian Society might be glad to get hold of! Old Job Senior was not a vegetarian; he went in for a higher art--music. It used to be the boast of the Rombald's Moor hermit that he had been a splendid singer in his day--could sing in any voice. Job frequently came as far as Keighley and tried to earn "a' honest penny" by singing in the streets. His legs were encased in straw and ropes, and although at times I own I'm rather backward incoming forward, I hasten to say that Job's "outer man and appendages" charmed more people than his singing did. But, then, "it's all in a life-time."

THE POET'S "PRENTICE HAND"

During my sojourn at Wheat-head Farm I took a fancy to trying my "prentice hand" at writing poetry. I got a little encouragement in this at home. My father held singing classes, and gentlemen from the neighbourhood used to meet at our house to have their "lessons." I remember that the present Mr. Lund, of Malsis Hall, was one of my father's principal pupils. Some very good "talent" was turned out in the way of glee parties particularly, and just before Christmas my father used to be very busy training singers for carolling. I often wrote a little doggerel-rhyme to please those who came to the classes. One of my earliest efforts was a few verses anent my first pair of britches, which I, in common, I suppose, with other juveniles, regarded with a great amount of pleasure and pride. I must apologise for introducing three verses of the piece I wrote and styled

"MY FIRST PAIR O' BRITCHES"

Aw remember the days o' mi bell-button jacket, Wi' its little lappels hangin' dahn ower mi waist; And mi grand bellosed cap--noan nicer, I'll back it-- Fer her et hed bowt it wor noan without taste; Fer shoo wor mi mother, an' I wor her darlin', And offen sho vowed it, an' stroked dahn mi' hair; An' sho tuke me ta see her relations i' Harden, I't' first pair o' britches 'at ivver aw ware.

Aw remember the time when Aunt Betty an' Alice Sent fer me up ta lewk at mi clooas, An' aw walked up as prahd as a Frenchman fra Calais, Wi' mi tassel at side, i' mi jacket a rose, Aw sooin saw mi uncles, both Johnny and Willy, They both gav' me pennies an' off aw did steer; But aw heeard 'em say this, "He's a fine lad is Billy, I't' first pair o' britches 'at ivver he ware."

Aw remember one Sabbath, an't' sun it wor shinin', Aw went wi mi father ta Hainworth ta sing, An't' stage wor hung raand wi' green cotton linin', An't' childer i' white made t'village ta ring. We went to old Mecheck's that day to wur drinkin', Tho' poor ther were plenty, an' summat ta spare; Says Mecheck, "That lad, Jim, is just thee awm thinkin', I't' first pair o' britches 'at ivver tha ware."

A ROMANTIC AND NOMADIC YOUTH

Anything that bordered on the romantic and nomadic style of life had an especial fascination for me. Many a time and oft have I bestridden horses that had been peacefully pasturing, and ridden them bare-back around the fields, in a kind of Buffalo Bill style, you know. I got "nabbed" occasionally, and then I was candidly told that if I continued "ta dew sich a dangerous thing ony more, ah sud be sewer to catch it."

DIVERS PRANKS

Of course I had divers other pranks, as all boys have--albeit to the anxiety and sorrow of many up-grown, and, therefore, unsympathising persons. "Tolling" doors was another favourite occupation of mine. Modern-time boys have not generally the same opportunities for "tolling" as boys had in my time. Our folks provided an everlasting amount of apparatus for me to carry on my "professional duties," and that unknowingly. My mother was a heald knitter, and there was always plenty of band throwing about. One night's "tolling" I remember with particular liveliness. I thought what a "champ" thing it would be to have a "lark" with "Jim o' Old Jack's"--an eccentric old man who lived by himself in an old thatched dwelling in our locality. I had no sooner turned the thought over in my mind than I resolved to "have a go" at the old chap. Poor old Jim went out to his work during the day-time, returning home at night. So I took advantage of his absence by hammering a stout nail into the cross-piece over the doorway. When night approached, and Jim returned to his homestead--poor old fellow! it makes me long to ask his forgiveness as I recount this incident--I hooked a fairish-sized stone, by means of a piece of string, to the nail which I had placed over the doorway. Near the stone I next fastened a longer length of string, and then I ensconced myself on the opposite side of the road. It so happened that the house stood on one side of a narrow lane, the opposite side of which was on a much higher level than the roof of the house, and, besides, faced by a wall. This suited me to a T. All serene! Having allowed Jim nice time to get comfortably sat down to his evening meal, I gently pulled the string, with the result that there was a gentle tapping at the door. Jim naturally answered my knock, and he seemed rather put about to find that his ears had evidently deceived him. So he slammed the door to and went inside--I guessed to resume his seat at the tea table. Then I "tolled" again and once more Jim came out. He must have felt a little "nasty" when he found that no one wanted him at the door.

THE INNOCENT SUFFER FOR THE GUILTY

BILL AND THE DONKEY

SCHOOL LIFE

I was packed off to school--the National School at Keighley, of which Mr. Balfrey was master. He was no doubt a learned man, having written several works, including a useful book, entitled "Old Father Thames," which he published while he was at Keighley. For some time the master regarded me as his favourite pupil, but by writing uncouth verse and drawing questionable pictures bearing upon himself, during school hours, I got very much into disfavour with him. I don't wish to say anything mean of Mr. Balfrey, but still he didn't encourage native talent as he might have done: he might have been jealous, there's no telling!

SENT TO THE MILL

After leaving the day school, I was sent to Lund's mill, where my father was manager over the weft department. My school career did not finish at the National School, however. I attended a night school, which was held in a thatched cottage in Greengate and kept by a man of no small ability in the person of Mr. John Garnett. He was, I believe, of Scottish extract, and a great admirer of Burns into the bargain.

TAKING TO BURNS

He had generally a volume of Burns' poems at his finger-ends and it was through him that I began to "take to" Burns and long to pay a visit to the Land o' Cakes. I had subsequently the pleasure of fulfilling that visit.

TWIN COMPANIONS AT NIGHT SCHOOL

Severing my connection with the school in Greengate, I attended a night school in Fell-lane--much nearer home. This was kept by an elderly personage known as Mr. John Tansey, and under the guidance of that gentleman, the present Mayor of Keighley and myself spent a portion of our time in obtaining knowledge. His Worship and myself were twin companions, I may say, being both born on the same day--March 22nd, 1836.

AMONG THE HAND WOOLCOMBERS

I spent a good deal of time in my youth in the workshops of the woolcombers in our locality, as, I believe, Ira Ickringill did. Hand woolcombers, by-the-bye, were rare hands at telling tales, and I listened to these with great relish. With all my boyish pranks, I was generally a favourite among the combers. There used to be an Irishman named Peter O'Brady who lived not far from our house. His wife was a good singer, and what is more, she had a varied selection of good old Irish and Scotch songs. She was occasionally good enough to sing for me. This woman taught me the song "Shan Van Vocht," and other Irish Gaelic songs.

LEARNING TO BE AN ACROBAT

TRYING THE FIDDLE

THE "NIGGER" BUSINESS

next fascinated me; and I induced several lads and lasses in the village to form a "troupe." We got up a show--not a very showy show, but a nice little show--and charged a reasonable sum for admission--only a half-penny! The "company" managed, by working together, to possess itself of a creditable wardrobe. But the "Fell-lane Nigger Troupe" did not live long. I, for example, began to soar a little higher, that is to the dramatic stage; but my father evidenced the same bad grace as he did in regard to my fiddle.

A STROLLING, ROLLICKING PLAYER

I had somehow or other scraped together close upon a couple of hundred reprints of plays, which cost me from 6d to 2s a-piece. He said he would have no acting in his house. I pleaded it was only a bit of pastime; but it was all in vain, and what was more he threw all my books on the fire. This greatly disheartened me--I should be about 14 years old at this period;--but though my father burned my play-books he did not quell my ardent ambition to go on the stage. A few days after, a theatrical man, called Tyre, visited Keighley. He advertised for some amateur performers to play in a temperance drama of the title "The seven stages of a drunkard," at the old Mechanics' Hall . The piece was to be played nightly for a fortnight. I mentioned to my father that I should very much like to take part in the performance. He asked the advice of somebody or other as to the character of the play, and being informed that it was a temperance piece, he consented to my serving a fortnight with the company. I applied, and was gladly accepted. The part of a boy--a boy who, in manhood, was a drunkard--was allotted to me. The company played for a fortnight before crowded houses. But my stage career was not destined to end there. Tyre, seeing that the Keighley public appreciated the efforts of his local talent, arranged for the performance of another piece, styled "Ambrose Guinnett." He asked me to take a part in that piece also, and I agreed on the spot to do so. I was put in as a sailor, and I purchased in the Market-place a sailor's suit and a black wig, on "tick"--you see I was determined to have them. By-and-bye, it reached the ears of my father that I was going "reight in for t'business." However, the day fixed for the first performance came round, and then the performance commenced.

TRICKING POLICEMAN LEACH

The curtain had risen and all was going on nicely when on the stage, behind the wings, appeared a policeman--a real policeman--a policeman to the heart, into the bargain! "Robert" turned out to be nobody else than my old friend, Mr James Leach, now of Balmoral House, The Esplanade, Keighley: this, I ought to mention, was my first meeting with Mr Leach. My father it seemed, had heard definitely that I should be acting that night, and so he had induced Police-constable Leach , to look after me. Well, as I said before, P.C. Leach came on the stage. I happened to be the first soul he encountered. Says he to me: "Have you got a young man here called William Wright?" Says I to him: "I have not." Says he to me: "I want that lad, wherever he is; his father has sent me for him, and if he won't go home I have to take him to the lock-up." The last word rather frightened me; but I managed to say to him: "To save you a deal of trouble, sir, young Wright isn't going to play in this piece at all," and, with that, directed him down the staircase. I was allowed to go on with my acting without interruption after that; but I hadn't to go on the stage another night. My parents then put their heads together to keep me out of mischief.

MILL LIFE AND POETRY

I was packed off to Lund's Mill--the late Mr William Lund was at the head of the firm at the time, and Benjamin Lamb and I became favourites with him. Mr Lund often used to take us into the staircase at the mill, provide us with chalk, and tell us to draw animals or anything we liked. He would offer a prize for the best production. We had also to try our hands at "making" poetry, and for this Mr Lund would give rewards. Ben could generally "best" me at drawing, but I managed to get the poetry prizes all right. One day Ben signed teetotal, and I remember I wrote a few lines of doggerel on the occasion. It is rather uncouth, but here it is:--

Benjamin signed teetotal He signed from drink and liquors; And it gave him such an appetite Begum he swallow'd pickers.

MAKING AND SAILING SHIPS

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