Old West Riding (Spring 1982) by George Redmonds (editor)

The following is the OCR text of a book and will likely contain conversion errors. This page is designed to be indexed by search engines. Click on a page number to view the book in your web browser.

Please note that the text is not in the Public Domain and should not be reproduced further without the express permission of the copyright holder or their estate.

Page 1



Page 2


Page 3




Page 4


It is not too early, I think, to comment on the progress made by Old West Riding, for the response to it has been encouraging in a number of ways. In one sense the most important aspect of that response

has been from the public, for whilst neither of the ©

first two issues is yet sold out, we have been able to cover expenses and can therefore contemplate the magazine’s future constructively and optimistically. This public response has not by any means been a purely passive one and it is pleasing to be able to say that comment on the published articles has reached us from many parts of England. There are already indications that this will in time increase the number and range of contributions and this can only be for the good. In fact, now that three numbers have appeared, it is possible to say that the range has already increased. The subject matter is no longer biased towards Huddersfield as it inevitably was in the first issue

Editor George Redmonds 5 Knotty Lane Lepton Huddersfield HD8 OND

Associate Editors Jennifer Stead Cyril Pearce Peter Watkins

All letters, enquiries and contributions should be sent direct to the Editors. Articles must be in the Editor’s hand no later than July

Page 5


OLD WEST RIDING Vol. 2, no. 1 Spring 1982 CONTENTS THE USES OF URINE Jennifer Stead Part

Page 6

THE USES OF URINE Jennifer Stead Part II

In the Woollen Industry In the West Riding the most common use for urine was in the making of woollen cloth, in some cases up to surprisingly recent times. Crowther and Nicholson at Ashbrow Mills Fartown were among those few mills still using urine in the 1930’s. Even in the 1960’s at Hollingworth Wood’s at Lockwood, the scourer would occasionally, for special cloth milling jobs, go round the mill with a bucket and ask the men to contribute. “He said it took hours out of the

work milling it up. You mill pieces up in a scouring

machine to narrow them from 80 inches to 76 or 74 inches. It makes a better thicker cloth” (1). The scourer normally used soap and water in the mill- ing process, but the addition of fresh urine killed the suds, took the lather off, and “‘took the cloth up”’. From early times, urine played a vital role in the mak- ing of woollen cloth. The Romans and Phoenicians used it with various pigments for dyeing cloth purple. Roman togas, made of white wool, were taken to the cleaners i.e. the fullers, who first removed greasy spots with fullers earth, then steeped the garments in fermented urine, trampling or walking them with bare feet, before rinsing in clear water. Pliny reports that fullers claimed they never got gout because of

Joseph Crowther started in 1856 in Milnsbridge as a chemical merchant serving the textile industry. His horse-drawn cart with a large barrel visited every house collecting urine. Ammonia, salt, glauber salt, soaps and soda ash were the products handled from 1860 until after the second world war. (By courtesy of Crowther’ Chemicals and the Huddersfield Examiner.)

this immersion in urine, and the belief that urine cured gout was still prevalent in 17th century Eng- land. (2). In the first century A.D. Vespasian, as part of his successful measures to put Roman finances in order, imposed a tax on the urine of the Roman people, by setting out large jars in every street and alley and demanding the populace to use them. Vespasian thus immortalised himself, at least in France, where public urinals were in recent times still being nick- named

Page 7

shops, but in the homes of individual clothiers and as has been seen (in Part I) a sufficient supply of urine was not always to hand, and so there was much lending and borrowing among neighbours (though scouring could also be carried out in the fulling mill, as most fullers had tanks for storing urine). By the time woollen mills were established in the later 18th century, local centres of population, which had expanded in proportion to the availability of jobs, became adequate sources of supply. The efficient Germans, however, had early solved this problem by largely siting their mills near barracks. The American William Partridge, visiting Britain in the early 1820’s to observe our clothmaking practices, published in 1823 the results of his findings, which give excellent accounts of processes then current in British mills (4). Of all the alkalis used for scouring, in his opinion urine is the only material that ought to be used, because it is the cheapest and the most easily available. He recognises that it is ammonia which is the effective cleansing agent:

The volatile alkali, that part of urine which combines with the yolk (oil) does not injure wool unless it be in considerable excess, or too much heat be applied; whereas the fixed alkalies operate so powerfully as to dissolve a portion of the wool at a temperature that will scour it.

He notices that many English manufacturers keep urine in large vats with close covers until the ammonia has developed, “I have seen six of these at one factory, holding nearly two thousand gallons each, all full’’. To explain the chemical action in the process of scour- ing he quotes Vauquelin’s Annalysis of Wool and Urine:

nine-tenths of the salts of fresh voided urine are acid; whilst in a stale state, they are alto- gether alkaline, eight-ninths being ammoniacal. The material to be detached from the wool is principally an animal fat, which forms a sopona- cious compound with the ammonia of the urine, which will readily wash out in water. The ammonia, if any remains about the wool in an uncombined state, is so volatile, as to escape while the wool is drying leaving it free from oils and salts. When the practice corresponds so exactly with the chemical analysis, it proves that the operation pursued by the manufacturer has attained its utmost degree of perfection.

Partridge goes on to give an excellently detailed account of the scouring process as then practised in English mills. He seldom names the mills visited, but it would be tempting to think he had visited Benjamin Gott’s Bean Ing Mills in Leeds. Gott, a progressive manufacturer, kept a detailed notebook of prices and processes between 1800 and and his account of scouring as practised at Bean Ing is very similar to that of Partridge. He writes on page 10 of his notebook:

The scouring pan is set in the following manner, fill the Vessel with half Urine and half water & as much sweet soap as will make it feel slippery & heat up to 140°, about this point you need not be very accurate the cooler the water to make the wool clean the better, put the wool in by six or eight pounds at a time & keep constantly stirring it for a few minutes till clean & proceed with the whole in the same manner it must be then taken to a stream of cold water & made very clean in this state it must be left to sipe for a few hours before it be ready for the Dryhouse, if for Whites, if for drying it is ready immediately after washing as the Pan empties keep filling it up with % urine & half water by this management the pan may be kept in order for a year & more indeed it is better not to empty above three times in 2 years — whenever that vat is allowed to go cold a thick scum of Grease & Impurities rises to the top, this should be carefully taken off the dirt raked from the bottom of the pan & thrown out when a pan is in order it has the following properties, it is the color and consistency of cream, feels slippery between the finger and thumb, if any wool is to be made particularly clean it will not be amiss to add two or three pounds of soda or a little soft soap may be added.

Gott writes that Spanish raw wool had to be scoured before dyeing, whereas English need not, because it was not so rancid and clammy. Apparently, this scouring of raw wool in the West of England invariably, and in Yorkshire generally, was effected in the early 19th century with stale urine mixed with a small quantity of soap and heated to about 120 degrees, though some Yorkshire manufacturers used soap and water only (6). In Wales up to 1914, urine was still the most common scouring agent (7). After the cloth has been woven, the natural wool oils, (or if these have been scoured out in the staple, the added animal, fish or vegetable oils) are removed by a scouring which is essentially the same as the cottage process — lecking the piece, leaving it several hours to saturate, then putting it in a falling stock with clean water. Partridge gives an excellent account (p.60—63) which corresponds pretty well to the follow- ing, as practised at Bean Ing Mills. (I have inserted commas into Gott’s account. Knotters removed spinners’ and weavers’ knots. Bottles and Corbeaus are greens and blue-backs):

Scouring and Milling Cloth After the Cloths are brought in from the Knot- ters, 2 Ends Common Broads for Instance, they are wet with two Kits i.e. 8 Gallons of a mixture of Pigs Dung and wash — (this mixture is made in the following manner, 1 barrow of pigs dung is put a tub containing about 80 gallons & filled up with old urine, this is allowed to steep a week or more as time will allow the Dung is then squeezed out (generally

Page 8

by hand) and thrown away, the urine thus impregnated with dung is ready for use) & put into a falling stock for % of an hour, then take it out without washing and spread it neatly on the floor and sprinkle it over with two kits of pure urine in this state it must lay 12 hours or till next morning, Bottles, Corbeau’s and Mixtures require more of the Mixture and also Urine, be- ing hand dyed, than other colours, the next morning they are put into a Driver & run 20 minutes or half hour, then turn on the Water & wash clean, in this state the cloth goes to the Burlers. (The stocks at Armley Mills Industrial Museum Leeds, give an excellent understanding of this process). Partridge explains (p62) that the heap of cloth, soaking in urinous liquor, gets hot in a few hours because of fermentation, accelerated by the glue used in sizing. The ammonia, assisted by this heat, com- bines with the oil, forming an ammoniacal soap which washes out easily with water. If not checked, the heat engendered makes the cloth too hot to handle and would soon decompose the wool. Partridge also makes it clear that in many mills, scouring and milling have become separated into two processes, the scour- ing requiring that the falling stock bang the folded cloth to thicken it, using fullers earth, soap or urine. Benjamin Gott appears to be still using the combined process. Gott, a very progressive manufacturer, soon changed from urine to using soap as the milling agent for most cloth. Soap effected the thickening of cloth quicker than urine. Partridge wrote (p70) “Cloth that will full in with soap in eighteen hours will require twenty-four with

Page 9

Sodium chloride

Page 10

at Rigby’s well into the 20th century. He writes: “I started to work in the wire industry in 1937, and it would be about that time that urine ceased to be used as an additive in copper sulphate baths’. A copper coating was required in the old days to act as a key e.g. before applying a flash chrome plating, and the copper coat also assisted high-speed wire-drawing: The main problem in coppering wire in those days was the use of vitriol (nitric acid), and if the acidity got too high there was a tendency for the copper coat to peel off (after the chrome plating was added). The old way of making up the coppering bath was to issue to the wire- drawer — who would make up almost by instinct, quite often by private formula — a bath in which to dip the wire prior to drawing. As the wire was drawn from the acid bath, many of the ingredients were drawn out with it and the acidity used to get higher because this was one of the elements which remained. To bring down the acid strength, the idea was to add alkaline, and this of course was readily available from the human source. (To be alkaline this must have been old urine.)

In Engineering The “‘big

Page 11

above proportions are enough for converting 1 cwt of iron, The steel industry may have outgrown the use of urine in the 19th century, but many small trades were still using it in the 1940’s, in Halifax by the small tool- makers and also by wheelwrights. (Was it these who collected urine from the POWs at Sowerby Bridge Detention Centre?) Mr Ian Halstead who worked at Whittingham’s wheelwrights, West Vale, Elland after the last war, shrank the hot iron tyres onto the wooden wheels in a quench of ‘sock’ or animal urine, which came in kegs or small barrels from the abattoir. This was done in order to clean and descale the iron tyre (no doubt it effected some hardening too). Mr Halstead said that railway wheels were quenched in the same way. Urine was used in the Welsh copper industry up to the time of the First World War, around Llanelli and in the Lower Swansea Valley, where it was used for the surface cleaning of copper sheet. The urine was collected from the houses, upon a small payment. The collection was a task given to smeltermen’s wives or to young girls who had just started in the industry. They called at houses with a sort of milk- maid’s yoke with two buckets suspended. The girls were eventually promoted to better jobs, but one poor creature, who was not particularly bright, never progressed beyond that stage and became known in the district as “Betty Piss” (13). The urine would be used stale. I Copper oxide is soluble in a mixture of ammonia and ammonium salts and with aeration copper-ammonium carbonate was the most probable soluble product. Sulphuric acid, produced in Swansea from about 1840, was much more effective than was urine in cleaning copper, and from that time, gradually superseded urine, sulphuric acid still being used today. Welsh tin-plate plants used fermented oatmeal and water as well as urine for pickling wrought iron sheet in the 19th century. Urine was also recommended as a means of hardening the hands of tin-platemen who worked with tongs pulling heavy hot lumps of steel

and sheet (14). South Yorkshire steelmen also hard-.

ened their hands this way.

In Tanning Urine was still widely used in the preparation of leather in Europe and America in the 19th century. Leeds was then an important tanning centre and most likely used urine in some preparation of leather, though I have been unable to discover any evidence. Urine was used anciently in the depilation of hides, before they were tanned with animal dung and alum. The depilation, removal of hair from the hides, required a proper fermentation to loosen the hair, the heat produced in fermentation being essential for success. The hides were soaked in alkaline solutions, or urine, which not only promoted fermentation but also prepared the hide for the absorption of tanning agents. Depilation was done in ancient Greece with dove-dung, or urine, the liquor recovered after this

process being used diluted as a fertilizer for vines (15). The Eskimos kept urine in tubs in their huts to dress deer and seal skins. For kayaks they sprinkled the hides with urine and rubbed them with pumice, and finally chewed the leather. The Chuckchee women of Siberia used urine with fir-bark to dye leather red. The Kioways of the American Great Plains soaked their buffalo hides in urine to make them soft and flexible (16). So it seems urine really did soften stiff army boots!

In the Alum Industry Besides its use in tanning, alum until recent times was one of the dyer’s chief materials. Without alum certain dyes would not ‘take’ to the material being dyed, and so the material had to primed with a

Page 12

urine, the carriage of which was expensive. In the Public Record Office are some fascinating accounts of the various North Yorkshire alum works, beauti- fully written by King James’ agent Richard Willis (see fig 1). These show that coal was brought by sea from Sunderlandand Tyne, the coal dumped at Whitby, the ships then carrying alum to London and on the return journey to Whitby, carrying London urine, e.g. Master Luke Fox, Whitby mariner, brought 23 tons of urine from London and returned 28 tons 18 cwts of alum on ‘the Allomes Amye’ of Whitby. Without the ease of bulk transport in ships, it is doubtful whether these mines would have been so successful (17).

Page 13

of the sea. It could only be quenched with a mixture of urine, vinegar and sand. From the middle ages onwards, saltpetre was vital for the making of gunpowder, and was made with urine and other nitrogenous materials. In roofed pits or vaults, all kinds of rotting animal and plant material was heaped up with chalk marl and kept damp with fermented urine. The resulting saltpetre or nitre was mixed with sulphur and charcoal to make gunpowder. English production of saltpetre did not begin until 1561, when a German refugee brought secrets of its manufacture here. In 1674 another German, Hennig Brand, alchemist and physician, expecting to make gold from urine, instead produced a soft white waxy substance which glowed in the dark. Phosphorus thus became the first chemical element to be isolated by research methods.

Miscellaneous Uses Textiles Harris tweed was dyed with the lichen Amphalodes, steeped in urine, which was the basis of many colours, and which gave the characteristic smell to Harris tweed. On the island of Barra, up to 1910, the fulling of cloth was done by women at a special social evening. when the hostess baptised the cloth with holy water, before putting it in a tub of urine then onto a board to be walked by the women, singing. The Faroese women stamped their cloth in a tub of urine. Urine was used among American Indians, Mexicans and Peruvians as a mordant for fixing dyes in blankets etc, and in this country as a sort of dry-cleaning fluid to sponge navy blue clothing and corduroy.

Odd Cleaning Jobs In 1788 Dr Johann George Krinitz in his Encylopaedia (18th part p. 128) recommended urinating into the barrel of one’s shot-gun to de-rust the tinder-hole (after first stuffing the tinder-hole with wax) and leaving for 48 hours to stand. In our recent very cold winter people rediscovered the trick of unfreezing car door locks by a similar method. It was once quite common, before the avent of glycol de-icers, to see lorry drivers in the early mornings climbing onto the bonnets of their cabs to

Page 14

not to wipe a baby’s eyes with urine. Welsh miners

wash their

Page 15


Lillian Robinson

Fighting cocks are still being bred today on the York- shire moors, it is rumoured not entirely for aesthetic reasons. It is tempting to think that some of these cocks may be descended from the 18th century fighting cocks referred to in this article; for cock- fighting was not entirely stamped out by the 1849 Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act, as is shown by the case of illicit fights that have cropped up in newspapers ever since. The sport is world-wide and ancient. It has always been popular in England, although attempts to suppress it were made by Edward III and Henry VIII, no doubt on account of the near-riotous behaviour a public cock-fight was apt to engender. As may be expected, the sport was illegal during the Commonwealth. At the West Riding Quarter Sessions at Pontefract on 9th April 1654 it was recorded that, in defiance of an earlier order bann- ing public cockfighting, 500 people had been found at a cock-pit in Wakefield. This was declared an “unlawful assembly”, and the people concerned were ordered to disperse, or “‘otherwise expect the speedy execution of the sayde ordinance’’. After the accession of Charles II cock-fighting was again allowed; an extract in Oliver Heywood’s diary (1) gives us a clear picture of how a Halifax cock- fight was conducted, showing the relationship between gentry and ordinary folk, and the swearing, drinking, gambling and brawling that went on. On Monday May 31st 1680 he writes that a great cocking was to take place in a cocking house belonging to the inn behind the Cross at Halifax; many gentlemen came to it, and that day judges were appointed to match the cocks, Next day:

Page 16

1. Robt Stansfield Esq Against Wm Barcliffe Esq 2. Frs Fawkes Esq Capt John Pollok 3. John Stanhope Esq Mr Pollard 4. Robt Stansfield Esq Wm Ratcliffe Esq 5. Wm Ratcliffe Esq Mr Smith 6. Edwd Leeds Esq Wm Skelton Esq 7. Benjm Farrand Esq Mr Darnborough 8. John Stanhope Esq Robt Allenson Esq 9. John Stanhope Esq Frs Fawkes Esq 10. Robt Stansfield Esq Mr Farrer 11. John Stanhope Esq Robt Allenson Esq 12. Mr Farrer Mr Lambert 13. Benjm Farrand Esq Mr Smith 14. Robt Stansfield Esq Wm Ratcliffe Esq 15. John Stanhope Esq James Maud Esq 16. Edwd Leeds Esq Capt Harpur

There was nothing haphazard about the business. Each year a book was compiled, listing “where bred”, ‘‘marks on

Page 17

23rd June, outline the usual terms. The parties agreed to weigh at the cock-pit on 19th June, 31 cocks a side, weight between 3lb 40z and

Page 18

Glossary of Terms Used In Cockfighting







FEEDER (Or trainer)






A man engaged to clip, or cut short, hackles and sickle feathers etc. before battle. He probably also removed combs, wattles and spurs from young staggs. A number of cocks were put into the pit at the same time, the survivor being the winner. Leather screens fixed round the eyes. Fights fought atintervals between Main battles. Or A match between pairs of cocks of equal weight in an odd number of battles between two parties. A place where game cocks were kept. They were usually separ- ated from other birds when they started to become aggressive, and then kept in separate walks. Cocks also seem to have been sent to walks to recuperate, after battles. Combs and wattles were removed when the cocks became

Page 19


Gillian Briscoe

By coincidence Wombwell’s Circus was in Doncaster when the 1861 Census was taken. Twenty-seven people were listed as having slept in caravans in the market-place and the details for the seven family groups demonstrate the problems awaiting any amateur genealogist whose ancestors were ‘travelling folk’, Actually, two men only gave their occupation as traveller; others were described as showman, confec- tioner or licensed hawker. Nevertheless, it is clear that all the families were on the move and not one had any West Riding connections. The Hursts and Beethams were from Lincolnshire, the Bent brothers and Joseph Crecroft from Leicester. The latter’s wife, however, had been born in Wiltshire and his daughter in Warwick, whilst others in the group came from Norfolk and Berkshire. The attempt to record the origins of the owners of the circus met with no luck at all. Ann Wombwell, who was 73 years old, and described herself as the Proprietor of the Menagerie, was unable to say where she had been born and the same was true of the other nine people in her entour- age. These included a servant, half a dozen nieces and nephews aged between 19 and 39 and her brother- in-law John Blight. Mr. H.M. Blight, who was the agent in advance, according to the Doncaster Chronicle, is not included among the sleepers in the market-place, so it must be presumed that he had already moved on to one of the towns due to receive avisit from the circus, i.e. Thorne, Crowle or Epworth. Nor is there any mention in the Census Returns of musicians, so the band which was

Page 20

SHIBDEN HALL: The early development of an

important Halifax house. Peter C.D. Brears.

Shibden Hall occupies an important place in the architectural history of West Yorkshire. Originally constructed as a timber-framed building in the late 15th century, it was continuously adapted and en- larged by its successive owners so as to become one of the major residences in the Calder Valley. Due to its long occupation by a single family, and to the researches of its last private owner, Mr John Lister, M. A., (1) a particularly rich collection of archives relating to its structure still survives, thus allowing its architectural developments to be dated with a reason- able degree of accuracy. In addition, a number of major repairs to the hall carried out between 1970 and 1972 revealed many previously hidden details of its construction. In this paper, therefore, an attempt has been made to gather this information together to

provide a comprehensive account of the hall’s growth

Page 21

two ground floor rooms extend two chambers of identical size, their original floor-boards being dis- covered and exposed during the Spring of 1970. Those of the Red Chamber to the south are particularly massive, being wax-polished planks of oak 16 in. By 2 in. by 17 ft in length, supported at 6 ft centres by four beams arranged in an open cross formation beneath. The floor-boards in the North Chamber were of an improved design, alternate boards 1 in. in thickness being rebated into their 2 in. thick fellows so as to give a smooth upper surface of closely-jointed boards. This floor had never received any polish in antiquity. At the southern end of the western wall of this wing a massive masonry chimney stack was built to heat the Savile Room on the ground floor and in the Red Chamber above. Both these rooms have square-headed fireplaces with gritstone quoins and lintels bordered with a bold round moulding. (Fig. 1.) This appears to have been a common feature in 15th century buildings in the Halifax region, identical examples being known from High Sunderland (now destroyed), New Hall, Elland, a house in Cripplegate, Halifax, (now in the Halifax museum), and the former Dyer’s Shop, Corn Market, Halifax, now reerected as Daisy Bank, Hipperholme. As will be seen from the elevation of the eastern wall of the west wing, (Fig. 1 no. c-c) the only access into the wing at ground floor level was by way of an ogee- headed door in the north-western corner of the hall. The method of access to the upper floor is still uncertain. As the original floors are still intact, it is certain that there was never a staircase within the wing, while the existence of original studding all around the walls precludes the use of an external stair, unless it was situated in the external angle between the hall and the northern end of the wing, where the present doorway enters the first floor from the 1830s galley. As staircases housed within small outshuts in this position are known in a number of similar buildings in this area, it is most likely that the staircase was originally erected here. It would have been demolished when the north wing was erected in the 16th century, (see Fig. 2) when its place was taken by a new staircase in almost the same position. The eastern cross-wing, lying at the opposite end of the housebody, consisted of two ground floor rooms entered by separate doorways from the screens passage, above which were two further rooms of equal size. As no fireplaces were included in this wing, it must be assumed that it was chiefly used as a dairy and buttery, all cooking being carried out either within a separate kitchen building, or even over the hearth in the centre of the housebody. On the first floor, there are two unheated rooms which probably served to accommodate the servants and to provide storage. Once again, there is no evidence to suggest the existence of a staircase within the wing, and so it is probable that a small staircase outshut existed in the external angle between the north wall of the hall and the western wall of this wing. It is possible, however, that access to the upper floors here was gained by means of a staircase or ladder,


leading on to the narrow gallery which extended above the screens passage at the eastern end of the hall, between the fire-hood and the eastern wing. When a trench was cut through the floor of the northern room (now the kitchen) it was discovered that the original floor levels had been removed in the 1830s to make way for a timber floor supported on narrow joists, Against the north wall, however, pressed into the clay subsoil by the side of a line of heavy boulders supporting the sill wall, were sherds of a late 15th century jug, contemporary with the erection of the original building.


The date of this timber structure is frequently quoted as being c 1421, for on March 6th of that year William Otes, owner of this portion of the Shibden valley, signed a trust deed at ‘Schepdene’ in which his two messuages, fifty acres of land, ten acres of meadow, twenty acres of pasture, and six acres of wood, etc., were committed to the trusteeship of John Eckylslay and Thomas Otes. Although this documentary evidence proves that there were two houses in the proximity of the present hall in the early 15th century, it does not prove that the timber building under discussion was erected at that time. The major evidence for the period of its construction lies in the pottery excavated from the foundations of its sill walls, and in the style of building. From its form and fabric, it is unlikely that the jug was made prior to the mid — late 15th century and, as houses of this form were still being constructed in the early 16th century, a late 15th century date of construction would appear to be most likely. Further dating evidence is provided by the docu- mentary history of the Hall. In the mid — 15th century William Otes (grandson of the William Otes resident here in 1421) had married, but as his first wife died shortly after their wedding, he married Margaret Waterhouse, by whom he had a daughter named Joan. In 1456 William drew up a document leaving all his estates to Joan and her heirs, but shortly afterwards his second wife died and he married once more, having a son, Gilbert by his third wife. Now that he had a male heir, William

Page 22



Page 23


Page 24

attempted to cancel his earlier agreement, in order to permit his son to inherit, but in 1491 Joan had married into the powerful Savile family, who took the matter to court. The case dragged on for years, and it was not until 1504 that a definite agreement was reached, Gilbert receiving half the revenue of the estate for life, while the Hall and its lands passed into the ownership of Joan and her husband, Robert Savile. As the whole of the property was subject to litigation between 1491 and 1504, it is unlikely that any major rebuilding took place during this period, thus suggesting that the hall was erected a few years prior to 1491.

Phase 2. The Early 16th Century. Having established their ownership of the property, Joan and Robert Savile at once placed their personal

insignia in their parlour, the southern ground-floor,

room of the west wing, now known as the Savile Room. Here the under-side of the 15th century floor was underdrawn with broak oak planks some 3/8 in. in thickness, similar boards being used to encase the four bosses bearing the initial J for Joan Otes, the Savile crest of an owl, and Tudor rose motifs. Last century these features were stripped of their later paint- work by John Lister, who rose motifs. Last century these features were strip- ped of their later paintwork by John Lister, who

Page 25

the ceiling was painted in black, white and yellow to

resemble a series of three-dimensional cubes. On the beam running along the southern wall of this room, just beneath the ceiling, the arms of Queen Elizabeth are painted within a roundel, a further roundel bearing Robert Waterhouse’s initials joined by an entwined cord. thus firmly dating this decorative scheme between 1583 and 1598. first floor room of this wing, known as the Red Chamber from the 1730s at least, probably received its red-painted strap-work decoration around its tie- beams and wall-plates at this time.


Further modifications were made to the hall at this period, the most significant being the encasing of the ground floor of the new south front with coarsed rubble masonry in-corporating a major twenty-light mullioned window divided centrally by a heavy king mullion, and covered by a rounded hood-mould. The windows incorporate a magnificent series of stained glass panels, the largest composition showing Robert Waterhouse’s own arms, quartered with those of his powerful ancestors of Savile, Bosville, Gunthwaite and Vesey, all impaled with the arms of Waterton, Robert having married Jane Waterton of Walton in 1580. This panel was undoubtedly ordered from one of the York glaziers in the 1580s. Further panels show the arms of Waterhouse, while a remarkable series of quarries show greyhounds, birds with spades, clubs, halberds, wheelbarrows and dulcimers, devils with horns, axes, soles (punning souls), a wyvern with a sword, a pair of men playing single-stick, and the monogram of the Blessed Virgin Mary. These are all of late mediaeval, early 16th century date, and were probably moved here from earlier windows in the


house, although some may be possibly have been obtained by Robert Waterhouse from one of the


York churches then passing out of use. Certainly they were all made in York, bearing strong similarities

_to the Zouch chapel windows in the Minster.

To the east of the main mullioned window on the south front lies a squat two-light window. At first it looks as if it might have been designed as a fire-window to light the area beneath the fire-hood, but it is probable that a stone chimney stack was installed in the hall at the same period that the stone frontage was added. If this was the case, this window would have been designed to light the narrow passage between the porch and the hall, its height being restricted by the level of the porch chamber floor above. As the hall fireplace and its stack were extensively refurbished in the 1830s, it is not possible to confirm the date of its first erection. During this late 16th century phase of development, significant changes took place within the eastern wing of the hall, the studding in the centre of its internal dividing wall being removed to permit the insertion of a new chimney stack. The main hearth faced into the northern room, which now became the kitchen. It has a tall and wide elliptical arched head, with a fine cyma-moulding (similar to that of the new hall windows) terminating with spiral scrolls a few inches above the floor. In the southern room, a smaller hearth has its lintel cut in the form of a shallow four-centred arch. It is probable that the first- floor rooms were also heated by fireplaces in the same stack, but later works have removed all signs of their existence. The most important addition to Shibden Hall during this period took the form of a large stone-built wing extending northward from the back wall of the hall. It has no particularly striking architectural features which would enable its date to be closely ascertained. However the historical evidence, in which Robert Waterhouse’s wealth stands out from the relative poverty of his that it probably formed part of his overall scheme of refurbishment. Unlike the remainder of the house, this wing has a subterranean cellar designed for used as a dairy, a staircase originally descending into it from the rear

Page 26

yard. On the ground floor, the western section was occupied by a small parlour, or buttery, while to the east a staircase turning on half-landings rose up to the first floor. A long slot and mortice in the ceiling beams here marks the line of a timber partition which divided the staircase from the parlour, this arrangement also being seen in a number of other houses of this period in the Calder Valley, such as Akeroyd in Wadsworth. Later alterations have obscured most of the early features on the first floor of this wing, but the fenestration suggests that it was occupied by a single large bedroom, except where the staircase gave access to the first floor rooms over the hall and the two wings. It is probable that the eatern extension to Shibden Hall shown in early 19th century watercolours was added at this time to provide further accommodation for loom-shops etc., but this structure was entirely rebuilt in the 1830s.

Post — 16th Century Work During the late 17th and early 18th centuries virtually no new works were carried out at the hall, with the exception of panelling in the study, but the Rev. John Lister then attempted to introduce some more fashionable features, including a modelled plaster ceiling showing stars and clouds in the small dining room. It was in the mid 1830s, however, that the most significant remodelling and restoration of the hall took place, due to the effective and fruitful co-operation of Miss Ann Lister with her architect, John Harper of York. Certainly this was one of the most sensitive restoration projects of its date, and one which established Shibden Hall as a major archi- tectural treasure of West Yorkshire. In this paper, an attempt has been made to bring together the new information brought to light dur- ing the renovation works carried out during the years 1970-72, in order to further elucidate the history of the Hall. Hopefully it will also provide a source for comparative work on other buildings of the Calder Valley, for the time is ripe for a full re-assessment of the architectural heritage of this unique region.


1 The historical aspect of this article has been compiled from John Lister’s manuscript “‘History of Shibden Hall’’ in Leeds Reference Library SR 7288 L 697. 2 Brears, P.C.D. ‘“‘John Harper at Shibden, a Gothick Lady and her Architect”. The York Historian II (1978). p 56.

Page 27


Alan J. Brooke

On Tuesday 19th November 1799 the usual concourse of people flowing in to Huddersfield for market day was joined by large numbers of women from the surrounding villages. Many, it was later claimed, had already decided to attempt to seize any grain in the town since the price of flour and meal had rocketed following the near destruction of the nation’s harvest by torrential rains. An “immense mob” had soon congretated and Hannah Bray, the wife of a Deighton waterman, led the attack on a cart load of wheat. The intention of the rioters was not to steal the grain however but to enforce what they considered a fair price; Bray organised the sale of the bushel sacks at six shillings to women, including Emma Holland a clothdresser’s wife also from Deighton. At this point the magistrate, Joseph Radcliffe, appeared on the scene. To his annoyance several volunteers had refused to answer the call to arms against the mob and the force at his disposal was not very impressive. He read the Riot Act at several places in the town and in reply a Netherthong clothier, Abraham Broadbent, “kicked his horse with the greatest violence”. Broad- bent was seized along with Holland and Bray who gave Radcliffe the money she had collected commenting that she had sold it dear enough at that price. She later received a year’s imprisionment in York Castle for her audacity that day, the other two receiving two to three months in the House of Correction (1). Scenes such as this were enacted up and down the country in 1799 and 1800. What worried the govern- ment and magistrates such as Radcliffe, shaken first by the French Revolution and then the uprising of the republican United Irishment in 1789, was the fear of a much worse social and political crisis which would increase the influence of the native Jacobins — those who had accepted the ideals of republican France, who fostered illusions of democracy, and who entertained hopes of overthrowing the aristo- cracy’s monopoly of political power. In March 1801 it was reported to the Home Office that secret oaths were being taken by persons in Huddersfield called Ezekialites which, although it appeared to be a religious sect, caused some alarm to the government due to the chilling biblical text that gave it its name: Ezekial, Chapter 21

V.26. Thus saith the Lord God: Removed the diadem and take off the crown, this shall not be the same: exalt him that is low and abase him that is high. V.27 I will overturn, overturn, overturn it, and it

shall be no more until he come whose right it is and I will give it to him. The fanaticism of such sects and their contempt for all man-made forms of government soon to be swept


Copy of a memberhip card of the United English men

away by the millenium of Christ’s rule, reflected a deep disaffection which a government committee feared might be tapped by more earthly revolution- aries (2). Another report from Huddersfield in the same month revealed just such an oath with more materialist objectives, swearing persons “‘to support each other in regulating and lowering the price of all necessaries of life.” Despite some decreases, prices were still high and the condition of workers was aggravated by the “extremely dead” state of trade in the town. It was rumoured that a plan for a general uprising was in existence. Radcliffe however, thought that sedition did not penetrate too deeply in the Huddersfield area, he was more concerned about moorland meetings held in Saddleworth under the influence of republican United Englishmen from the manufacturing towns of Lancashire and Cheshire. Nevertheless, Huddersfield was amongst those towns which sent delegates to nightly meetings at places near

Page 28

ever express the views of discontented workers in these years. Threats of impending revenge against those responsible for the economic distress are coloured with biblical imagery: Awake and Lift up your heads ye Bould Spirited yorkshire for the Day is at hand when we shall be with you and we will find bread for ‘both you and your Children for Both justices and Corehome (?) may quake for fear for making Mothers Disolate of their Sons & Daughters

Page 29

dressing, who had occasion, as part of his job, to travel the manufacturing districts and who was said to be signing up men for a march on London. At Dalton he approached Christopher Stafford, a mason, and Joseph Smith a Kirkburton farmer asking them, “what side they were for, would they have a cake or half a

Page 30

disintegrated, partly perhaps under the impact of invasion fever following the resumption of war with France. In 1803 there is no evidence for the organisa- tion in our area. Individuals continued to voice their opinions, and to suffer for it. James Jobson a clothier, damned the king and his ministers in front of some dragoons in the town (18) and John Robinson, an Elland tailor, sent a letter to one of their officers, “the Major was then rolling in luxury and that he and the like were living on the spoil of the labouring part of the community, but that this time was short; that the writer was no enemy to the constitution in its purity but a professed enemy to tyrants and oppressors”. The hope of salvation by a popular uprising still endured; ‘‘we can raise a greater force than his Majesty,.or Madjesty or whatever you may please to call the Looby” (19). That both these man were commiteed to York for what could be dismissed as futile acts of defiance is in itself of some significance. The authorities still feared Jacobinism. On the other hand Jacobinism was still deeply engrained in working class ideas. It is this basic reality which our detailed study of a particular locality hopes to make clear. Luddism in the West Ridng in 1812 could escape this revolu- tionary tradition no more than it could escape the influence of religious dissent or trade unionism. Chartism drew on the same heritage and via this lineage the spirit of the United Englishmen lives on in the labour movement of today.


1 Leeds Mercury

Page 31


Writing in about 1807, John Farey senior, the geol- ogist and surveyor, commented that the floor of every coal seam he had seen in Derbyshire and in adjacent parts of South Yorkshire consisted of either clay or ‘a peculiar kind of hard stone, called Crow- stone, or Ganister, which, though an admirable material for Road-making, yet when pounded fine, and kneeded with water, it has all the properties of fire-clay ...’ The stone was used for roadmending purposes and also, significantly, “‘for the

Page 32

etc., etc. To this firm belongs the proud distinction of having brought the production of this invaluable mat- erial to the highest state of perfection, and of having adapted it

Page 33

ing from the properties leased by Lowood. Meetings and negotiations went ahead during 1890 and it was ultimately agreed to “‘go public’’, to enable the nec- essary working capital for extensions, repairs and reserved to be available. The scheme had in fact orig- inated earlier in the 1880’s:

Page 34

Engineers, a Fellow of the Imperial Institute, a mem- ber of the Sheffield Club and of the Conservative and Constitutional Association of Sheffield, and a trustee of the Upper Chapel (Unitarian) in Sheffield, to which last office he was appointed in January 1891. He was in addition, recorded as being a “‘generous and

Page 35


James Burhouse and Cyril Pearce

In many ways Huddersfield is a unique town but one particular aspect of its uniqueness is that from the end of the 16th century until

Page 36

that are annually built, but by their superior character in all ways. It would be a mistake to induce you to believe that distress is entirely absent from Huddersfield, in such a community this can never happen, there must always be a gradation of well-doing, and those who fill the lowest place must be always exposed to more or less of suffering — but certainly it seems to me that the numbers of those in Huddersfield, who are thus unfortunately placed is much more limited than is commonly found to be the case elsewhere — it is peculiarly striking to one accustomed, like myself, to observe the condition of the people in the manu- facturing districts of Lancashire, where the alternation of prosperity and adversity are much greater, and where at all times the general tone of the people (if such a word can be applied to their material condition) seems to be lower than that prevailing amongst the corresponding classes in and around Huddersfield. Nor is this distinction confined to the operatives — it is in fact attributable to some radical difference, the elements of which I am as yet unable to discover, between the two great branches of manufacturing industry, peculiar respectively to the West Riding of Yorkshire and Lancashire, viz: the woollen and the cotton trades — it is I think observable that the tenour of the former trade, is at all times more equal,

steady and continuous, that it is less liable to the

violent fluctuations which occur in those districts whose cotton goods are made, that the fortunes made are less huge, but that many fewer manu- facturers are ruined — This is I have no doubt attribut- able to two main causes — First, the very different manner in which the raw material for either branch of industry is produced and supplied — and second — the different character of the markets on which each mainly relies for disposing of their fabrics when made. But for the particular manner in which both or either of these causes operate I am as yet at a loss. The fact, however, as regards your son’s property is most satisfactory — during all the period of distress in trade that has been recently felt throughout the country the community of Huddersfield has escaped with comparative freedom from suffering. They were doubtless , less prosperous than usual, and some of the poorer people were badly off, but all this in a much less degree than in these Districts. Nor was the growth of the town, especially as regards small houses, at any time arrested. There is another circumstance which as it seem to me, may without impropriety be adduced as an evidence not only of the general well-doing of the people, but of the salubrity of their dwellings and of the attention which the Trustees have recently given to all questions affecting the drainage and cleanliness of the town, viz.: — that the population escaped, I may say entirely escaped, the visitation of Cholera — for the two or three deaths which occurred in the more crowded suburb of Paddock, can hardly be taken as invalidity of this statement. Some of the foregoing remarks would attribute the


present prosperity of Huddersfield to causes which it only shares with other seats of industry in the West Riding — it would however, be erroneous to believe that it proceeds alone from these general causes. There are several special circumstances at the present moment at work in its favour, of which the most important by far is the establishment of the “through” railway connection. You will readily understand the many ways in which a market must benefit by this being rendered easily accessible to buyers, and not only accessible, but by its lying first on the road to those other markets with which its fabrics enter into competition — already. I am informed the course of trade is changing, and many articles which up to recent date were sought by persons coming from a distance at Leeds, are to be found and are produced at Huddersfield. The foresight of the Trustees in lending their stren- uous support to the Huddersfield railway, is thus already borne out by the result, and the measures now taking by them for increasing the space of land in the immediate vicinity of the station, available for buildings applicable to trading purposes, and the erection by them of a new and more commodious hotel to which commercial travellers may resort, will all tend to promote the same end — and they will thus at the same time secure the double object of bringing into profitable occupation a large part of land that has hitherto been unacceptable, and of contribution thereby to the general advantage of the community with which their own is so in- separably united. It may not be unfitting also to remark in passing that events, have shown that the Trustees decided prudently in selling their canal. The manner in which the railways now intersect that part of the Country, would have made it a very hopeless task to maintain the income that the Trustees latterly derived from it, and even had they succeeded in doing so, it could only have been by means inimical to the interests of the trade of Huddersfield. The large revenue as compared with its length which was for so many years drawn from this canal, arose from excessive and enormous toll charges, which its peculiar local position, connecting two great systems of inland navigation admitted of being made. There were always burthersome and much complained of, and could hardly have been main- tained, even had the railway compelled them to be lowered. The history of this canal is a singular one — it was made about the year 1760, at a cost, as I have been informed of £13,000 or there-abouts. Sir John Ramsden’s income from it down to the year 1840 or 1841 when the Manchester and Leeds railway opened, was on an average £5,000 a year. This new competition reduced it very much, and when it was sold, it was yielding only £2,200 a year. The Hudders- field and Manchester Railway Company agreed in order to obtain the trustees support, to give twenty years purchase for it, making a sum of £45,000 — which was duly paid. I am not aware on any specula-

Page 37

tion or investment in the country, which throughout has been so successful. My recent letters have informed you that the Railway Company are about to pay off the purchase money for the land taken by them for the station, etc. The whole purchase money amounts to £40,072. 2s. 3d., of which they have already paid £4,892 — of this sum £4,280 was invested some years ago in the purchase of a property from a person called Stocks — and £612 is at the Trustees Credit in the bank. There remains therefore £35,180. 2s. 3d. to receive from the Railway Company — of this £16,572. 13s 9d. applies to the settled estates and must be paid into the hands of the Assistant General, and £18,652. 8s. 6d. belongs to the devised estates, and will go at once to the Trustees account with Messrs. Strahan & Co. The former sum will then be invested in Exchequer Bills, and the latter in the 3%. The income that will arise from it, thus invested, will be inferior to that which has been obtained from it while left in the hands of the Railway Co. — but this cannot be helped as the Trustees are directed by Sir John’s will, and by the act of 1848, thus to dispose of it. One very serious difficulty that always opposed itself to the improvement of the town of Hudders- field by the Trustees has been removed by the establish- ment of the Board of Improvement Commissioners, and by the powers conferred on them by the Act of Parliament creating the Board — and at the same time by the powers which the Trustees acquired by their Estate Act 1848 to enter into arrangements with these Commissioners for the Improvement of the town. The difficulty to which I allude was the immense expense that attended the formation of the new streets, including in this not only the laying out of the streets, but covering them with metal, paving them, and making the proper sewers — and the consequence was that in many cases the houses on both sides of many new streets were built, while the streets themselves continued almost impossible for wheel carriages, and without any provision for the drainage of the dwellings — people under these circumstances hesitate to build, and much detriment ensued to all parties. To have remedied the evil thoroughly, would have involved the outlay of many thousand pounds, a very serious consideration for the Trustees, whose power to lay out money was restricted to £20,000 — and a still more serious consideration for any future tenant for life, who would naturally hesitate very much before expending such large sums for the permanent benefit of the Estate, out of his income which he only enjoyed for life. Through the aid, however, of the two acts of Parlia- ment alluded to above, the Trustees can now make arrangements with the Improvement Commissioners, under which the latter expend the capital required for paving and sewering the new streets charging the occupiers of the ground with an annual payment of 6’%2% on that portion of the outlay which can be made fairly applicable to that portion of the street


which he may occupy. Thus in all cases where persons have taken leases from the Trustees they will be looked on as the occupiers for the purpose of repayment and will be assessed accordingly

Page 38


John Addy

The practice of ‘wife-swapping’ in South Yorkshire is reputed to have its origins in mining communities in the 19th century. However, evidence of a “‘lewd and scandalous marriage’’, at Hatfield, recently discovered in the court files of the Archbishop of York’s Con- sistory Court, shows that the practice was known amongst country folks at the beginning of the 18th century (1). Hatfield was an important community in the marshlands between Thorne and Doncaster and served as a centre for the numerous small villages around it. Naturally, as a meeting point, it boasted numerous alehouses of a wide variety. The licensing laws, as they exist today, were virtually unknown at the period in which this case is set. True, regulations had been made in the 16th century concerning the licensing of alehouses and the suppres- sion of disorderly ones, but their interpretation was variable. The responsibility for reporting disorderly alehouses to the Justices at Quarter Sessions lay in the hands of the local constable who could turn a blind eye where required. In addition to the super- vision by the constable, the churchwardens were expected to keep an eye on the morals in such places, so it was through their annual presentments to the archbishop that the case came to court (2). The charges laid by the prosecution reveal that Elizabeth Dearman and her husband James kept an alehouse in Park Lane, Hatfield, which was described as being, ‘“‘an odd house and distant from any town’, and which the Justices had suppressed. In the charge, Elizabeth Dearman together with her husband were jointly charged with keeping,

Page 39

when the ceremcny was ended, Elizabeth said to Cockin, “now thou art my own, I may do what I please with thee”. Whereupon she put her hand into his pocket, and taking out a handful of money, proceeded to pay Dearman the agreed fee. Moore also stated that he heard Cockin say, in the presence of Dearman, that he had slept several times with Elizabeth and to his surprise her husband James confirmed this to be true. He had also seen the couple out walking and riding on horseback as though they were man and wife. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was freq- uently boasting that although several warrants had been issued by the Justices for Cockin’s arrest, she would never allow him to be arrested so long as she could prevent it (6). Anna Martin aged 20, from Thorne, said she was their hired servant who had been hired by Elizabeth Dearman at Martinmas hirings a year before. She confirmed that Cockin came to the house in the early mornings while her mistress was still in bed. He would go into the parlour and she had seen him in the same bed as Elizabeth (7). Sometimes he remained an hour with her, at other times rather less. She had also observed that Elizabeth was in the habit of taking Cockin by the neck, kissing him, “and using very indecent behaviour towards him’’. It was Cockin’s habit to visit the house when Dearman was absent on his,

Page 40


On June 21st 1793, Jonathan Woodcock, of Wake- field, wrote to his uncle Isaac Walton, of Gunthwaite near Penistone, as follows. “Uncle Isaac, Hearing that you had a desire of knowing the numerous progeny of my Grandfather, and Grandmother James & Anne Walton, with the particular Number of Child- ren of each branch of the family, & resolving a little in my own mind, I thought I could make out the Number as clear as anybody, which you will find (I think exact) as under, with the number of Children opposite to the names of the six Sons, & Daughters, of my Grandfather & Grandmother. I remain yours etc. Jonathan Woodcock.

Child Grand- G.Grand- Total. child child Elizabeth Eyre 10 36 38 84 James Walton 2 19 4 25 Sarah Woodcock 14 48 35 97 Anne Addey 4 28 16 48 Rebecca Bloom 6 23 — 29 Isaac Walton 10 23 = 33 46 177 93 316

The offspring of James & Anne Walton: Children G.Child. G.G.Child. G.G.G.Child. Total. 6 46 177 93 322

You are Grandfather & Great Great Uncle to Mr. Pearson Walton’s 6 children. And I believe I am rather under than (1).

As it will be seen, the writer does not make any great claims for the accuracy of his computation. But even allowing for a wide margin or error, the total is im- pressive. And he is undoubtably “rather under than over’. One of the 19 descendants of James Walton

junior shown in column two was my great-great-

great-grand-mother. She had three children in 1793, and ‘at least six of the other eighteen were married at that date; they must have managed more than one .child between them. It appears that Jonathan Wood- cock had not kept in touch with all his cousins. And there would be room for a further six generations, at least, since the date of his letter. Taking the same column as base, and assuming a mean multiplication rate of two, which does not seem excessive, the descendants of James and Anne Walton of Thurlstone should now number not far short of ten thousand. Many of them, no doubt, are scattered through the world; I personally know of two Waltons who emig- ‘rated to America in the 18th century, and of a round dozen other descendants now living in Canada. But they must surely be well represented in Penistone High Street on a market day. From statistics to acrostics. Uncle Isaac was not only


interested in the number of children in his fertile family; he also gave some thought to their arrange- ment. and having a tidy mind practised his own kind of family planning. Six children that his wife Sarah Pearson brought him he christened William, Abraham, Lydia, Thomas, Obrion and Nicholas. Abraham and Lydia were fairly common in the region at that period; but the charming Obrion — perhaps a variant of Auberon — seems to be rare. Presumably he or his wife had something against Oliver. Then, having completed WALTON, they started onPEARSON. Pearson, Elizabeth and Anne duly appeared. But man can only propose; and for whatever reason the grand design was never completed (2). Some of the persons included in these dry statistics can be fitted into the history of Thurlstone. A fair amount is known about the Walton family itself (3). James Walton, the patriarch of this particular tribe, was a dyer and drysalter, an indispensable trade in a textile district. Joseph Hunter notes of this family that ‘‘the Waltons took over the

Page 41

been traced back to the original

Page 42


Ian Dewhirst

The early years of the century represented a palmy -era in public parks. Their atmosphere of order and decorum is epitomised by a Keighley Borough Parks Committee minute in 1905: “Resolved that it be an instruction to the Park Rangers to prohibit the erection of any tripod or other stand for the purpose of taking photographs in the. Parks on Sundays.” In dusty and — at first glance — dry official files lie many small forgotten stories; none more appealing than that of the Keighley Lund Park pony, which was employed in what we might imagine as rather gentle harness, pulling a mowing machine and a roller, carting sand and peat (from Haworth Moor), coke and soil, sods and manure. Our tale begins on a Friday morning in March, 1909, when Mr. John Slater, the head gardener, “consulted Dr. Carter with regard to the condition of the Pony’. Dr. Carter opined “that the animal was suffering from Acute Rheumatism in its hind parts, and that the best plan would be to sell it to a farmer as it was still able to work but not every day.”” Rather sadly, the records fail to dignify “it” with a sex. Incidentally, Dr. G.W. Carter, veterinary surgeon, had been unwittingly involved in a scandal six years earlier, when his assistant’s jealous wife had thrown vitriol in the face of his servant-girl but that is another story. The Lund Park pony was 13% hands high, and had been working for Keighley Corporation for the past ten years. The Special Drainage Committee had bought it for £28 in 1899,

Page 43


Vol. 1 Spring 1981










Return to the Huddersfield Exposed home page
View the list of other OCR'd books