Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-04-19
ROSE FROM A FORGE.
Robert COllyer as He Lives in the
Memories of Ilkley Folk.
PICTURE OF HIS COTTAGE HOME.
His First Sermon and the Village Cobbler's
Criticism Upon It
A VISIT TO his OLD SCHO0LMASTkR

the fierce winds OF the German Ocean meet
the wild winds OF the Irish Sea, and both,
in savage convulsions, roll icy fog-banks
along the barren hills, lies a little vale, sci
like q nest between the highest Yorkshire
moors. This is Wharfedale. All around
are dreariness of scenery and the griminess
aud hardness of countless mills. Butwithin
this ole dale, as if in blessed compensation,
are numberless winsome spots and scenes,
Ilklev, quaint and old in its characterful
village lie, shining and new from the lnno-
vations OF rich loiterers drawn hither by the
hygienic wells, and from very love of the
sweet old spot, as RusSln and Turner were,
is the Whariedalers' tiny metropolis. 1t
was the Olicana of the Romans. All
Saints, its ancient church, stands on the
site of former Roman fort and station.
The entire region roundabout is filled with
Pictish and Druidic remains. The
valley sides and craggy moor-scars rising
above are exquisitely set with hedge and
copse. lawn and bloom, with here and there
the walls of ancient manor-house, or of bat
tlemented castle, showing statelily against
the outiuttings of the higher crags. In
and tourists come to Wharfedale. All visit
the classic shades of Bolton Abbey, four
miles above IlkIey. Few Americans have
seen it. because OF its remoteness.
story of the Ancient Priory.
The ancient priory was founded in 1151,
and owed its origin 10 a pathetic tragedy,
best told in Rogers ballad, 'The Boy of
Egremond." Lady Alice, wife of William
Fitz.Duucan, nephew to King David of
Scotland, was the founder. just mile
above the abbey, the river Wharfe is COM
pressed within Deep torrent-like rocky
channel, called the Strid; because one can
stride. or leap, across it. The son of Lady
Alice attempted to cross the Strid, leading
a hound in leash. The latter, suddenly
shrinking back, precipitated "the boy OF
Egremond'' into the torrent. He was
drowned. In dolorous memory, Bolton
Abbey was built. Among all the abbey
ruins of Great Britain, Bolton, blended
with its surroundings is certainly the. most
attractirelv picturesque. Melrose is incom-
parablv more interesting as an eccIeslastic
art-relic; ivy-buried Dryburgh protects the
grave of Scott; Kirkstall, as an impressive
ruin, is far superior; and Fountains is more
perfect, spacious and splendid; but Bolton
Abbey stands as both an impressive and
picturesque oldeu shrine in periecT dream
OF natural beauty and repose.
In every direction the eye falls on match
less scenes of sweetness and rest. The very
air and sunlight of the little vale seem elo-
ouent of repose. The inner sense dream
iullv dwells upon the sacred and classic
memories of the ivy-hid ruins the Wharfe
modulates its wimplings 10 the spirit of the
spot; and even the birds. loving the valley
as retreat from the ever crowding OF the
ID mil their
Wharfeside sanctuary their softest and ten
derest songs.
Good Blood Came From Ilkley.
Outside 81 all quaint and pleasant things
about old AID new Ilkiey, it is delightful
place to visit from the human interest of
the town and its neighborhood. The ances-
tors of that sweet singer, Bishop Heber,
lived and died here. 1t is the land of the
Fairfa1es whose noble blood was trans
fused to our own Virginia. 1t was the pas
sionately-loved haunt of Turner, who meyer
spoke of sweet Wharfdale "without a qtiv- |
ering of the voice;" while Ruskin ''dis. |
cerned little bits of llkleY scenery hanging
on TO the Alpine heights when Turner came
10 paint them" But the personality above |
all others that links the American heart of
to-day to old Ilkley is one our country has
held in loving regard, now these two-score
delphia, Chicago and New York, has made
other men, Romauist or Protestant, ortho-
dox or heterodox. better and happier for his
ministry among them; grand, gray Robert
Collyer; who, when he passed from the iron
TO the spiritual anvil, knew no change in
the real man that was in him, which made
q great preacher and teacher out of the
YORKSHIRE Blacksmith of IlkleY.
Of his lineage, there was a grandfather
board one dark night in storm. He was
on the fathers side. On the mothers side
was another grandfather sailor who went
beneath the waves with his ship. The two
widows fought the wolf while they were
able, and died presently of the fight. Then,
as the century was coming in, Yorkshire,
with It's great mills and factories came to be
the land of promise to all in the south of
England who wanted to better themselves
So bright lad in London, who knew the
songs of the anvil, and lass from Norwich,
were caught by the same impulse of better
meut that took their bairn, Robert across
the sea, when grown TO manhood, and the
then little collection of thatches known as
Ilkley soon became the humble couples
home.
Meeting His Old Schoolmaster.
Collyer got ali his Schooling from an
odd character many of the Ilkley folk still
remember bv the name of Willie Hardie.
In those DAYS, by favor, all crIpples were
iddlers or teachers. Willie Hardie was
both. he was about the worst cripple and
best fiddler and teacher the 1lhley district
ever knew. lie had a strange squint in his
eyes, but for all that was great marksman
with the ierule. There was no use of dodg-
ing. If you did, the ferule would find you
out and thump you all the harder. Collyer
and his young companions swore solemnly
to thrash him when they grew to be men.
In 1871, Collyer came back here from
America with a friend ito thrash 'owd
Willie,'" and they found him at Fewston,
teaching and humping just as they had
left him. Crossing the worn threshold. they
very sternlv inquired:
''Is this Willie Hardie?"
"And If it is?''' he answered cannily.
"How are you getting along, sir?'
Use weel enough, but l doant know ye."
awe used to be your scholars, SIR We've |
come to give you back your thrashings!'
"Noa, noa-an' We will notf' shouted |
'owd Willie at the intruders, instinctiveiy |
grasping his ierule.
Then they made a rush at him, telling |
him who tEey were, and giving him great |
hustling, until he purchased freedom by a |
promise to play for them a tune on the old |
fiddle then and there; and he gave them |
Sweet Home" until there was not a dry |
eye in the little, low schOolhouse.
Pretty Steady Lad.
At IA, Collyer was "prenticed" to "owd
Jackie" Birch, the Ilkley village black
smith. The lad was pretty steady. about
middling-about middlingp' he will him.
self tell you, with a twinkle of the old
Yorkshire light in his ewes The old old