Morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven [Conn.]) 1848-1894, 1891-04-18

who, when he passed from the iron to She
spiritual anvil, knew no change in the real
man that was in him, which made great
preacher and teacher out of the "York-
shire Blacksmith" of nkley.
Of his lineage, there was a grandfather
who fought under Nelson and went over
board one dark night in a 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, York
shire, with its great mills and factories,
came to be the land of promise to all in
the south of England who wanted to bet
ter themselves. So bright lad in Lon
don, who knew the songs of the anvil,
and a lass from Norwich, were caught by
the same impulse of betterment that took
their BARN, Robert, across the sea, when
grown to manhood, and the then little col
lection of thatches known as 1lkley soon
became the humble couples home What
the boy, "Boab," first learned to notice
was a woman, tall, deep-chested, with shi-
ming, haxen hair and laughing blue eyes, a
damask rose bloom on her cheek, a laugh
that was music, too, a step like a deers
for hghtness, and an activity that could
carry its possessor twenty miles day over
the rough northern hills, and land her
safely home at night She would have led
an army, like the old queens, or governed
a kingdom, Collyer thinks of this mother
of his. What she did govern was a house
full of great, growing, hungry, outbreak
ing bairns-keeping them well in hand,
shifting all hindrance out of their way,
clothing them and feeding them bravely,
and paying for the schooling as long as
they could be spared to go, out of the
eighteen shillings week the quiet, man
full father made at his anvil. The old vii
layers say the kindest heart that ever beat
in a mans breast was his. 1t stopped
beating in moment, one hot July day,
while the father was fashioning the hum
BILE fortunes of his family at the forge.
But in these brave old days, those that
were left were all altogether in one of the
sweetest cottage-homes that ever stood I'M
der green leaves in green valley. There
was plum-tree, rose-tree, wealth of
ivy, and bit of green sward outside; and,
inside, one room below, and two above;
with floor of flags, secured SO white you
could have eaten your dinner off it, and
NO harm been done except to the floor;
whitewashed walls, with pictures of Bible
scenes hung where there was room; and in
their own places, kept SO bright as to be
SO many dusky mirrors, great mahogany
chest of drawers, high-cased clock, pol
ished elm chairs, and a corner cupboard
for the china that was only got out at high
festivals; a bright, open sea-coal fire, al
ways alight winter and summer;-with al
sorts of common things for common use
stored snug and bright, like the goods and
chattels of Ed'ard Cutie, mariner. Thi;
was Collyer's home in the day Of small
things, matched then and now by thou
sands of cottages in the sturdy old shire
of York
Collyer got all his schooling from al
odd character many of the nkley folk still
remember, by the name of Willie Hardie
In those days, by favor, all cripples wert
fddlers or teachers. Willie Hardie wa.
both. He was about the worst cripple anC
best fiddler and teacher the Ilkley district
ever knew. H had strange squint in hi.
eyes, but for all that was a great marks
man with the ferule. There was no use oi
dodging. If you did the ferule would fine
you out and thump you all the harder
solelmly to thrash him when they grew tC
be men In 1871 Collyer came back here
from America, with friend, ''to thrash
'owd WILLIE" and they found him al
Fewston, teaching and humping just as
they had left him. Crossing the worr
threshold they very sternly inquired:
sis this Willis Harder
| "And if it isf' he answered cannilv.
"How are you getting along, sir:"
"Pse weel enough, but l doant know
ye."
"We used to be your scholars, sir
| We've come to give you back your thrash
ings!"
| 'owd Willie at the intruders, instructive
| ly grasping his ferule.
| 'Then they made rush at him, telling
him who they were, and giving him
i great hustling, until he purchased freedom
| by promise to play for them a tune oI
i the old fiddle then and there: and he CAV
them 'Sweet Home" until there was no
dry eye in the little, low school-house.
At fourteen Collyer was "'prenticed" t
"owd Jackie" Birch, the Ilkley villag
blacksmith. The lad was pretty steady
"About middling;-about middling" h
| will himself tell you, with twinkle o
| the old Yorkshire light in his eyes. TIL
old, old women of Illlley tell me they wer
pretty sure of the orthodoxy of any littl
village fun he had hand in. One recall
certain night long ago, when there ha
been some 'doings" which held until tw
o'clock in the morning, at which time sh
overheard, from the window of her chan
Der, a little conversation between the mi
Ter and his wife, who was awaiting th
truant something after the manner of Tan
o Shanter's good dame. She greeted hiI
with:
why, David, mon, thaa be out tC
late!"
"Noa, noa, woman, Boab Collyer's Y,
behind met" he retorted in an injure
way.
airlyl"
But these were days of insatiate bool
hunger for the young Yorkshire blacl
smith. The only industries of 1lkley {
that time were 'wool-combing and lud!
ers" Wool-combing is gone; but, nov
in the summertime, thousands come hel
as "ludgers," for rest and health -gettin
at Hkley's famous hydropathic institut,
and springs. One of these wool-comber
John Dobson, farmers boy named To
Smith, another lad named John Hobsol
and the prentice boy Collyer, becan
: friends, and formed compact abo,
books, reading and study. Morning
, noon, night and Sundays, they ''too
turns" reading aloud, exchanging ide
, and aspirations, and thus grew into Il
, possession of noble, self-reliant manhoo
: | The wave of Wesleyanism was still strol
= | over the northern moors; a local preach
: named Bland, now in Canada, preached
| sermon one Sabbath which took a wo
' drous hold on the young blacksmit
:. though no revival was in progress; an
sat last the light came" The Methods
j took him ION probation" and put him
: "old Jim Delve's" class. A few nights :
: ter Delve was absent; and, as Collyer b
n often told me, "up spoke Tom Smith fro
a across the room: 'Nsa, lad, thaa M
i lead t'class t'night; thaa can do it if tn
: tries!" So he took hold and led. In
n little while they made him local preac
e er. His first sermon was great event
= the district. 1t was preached at Addin
g :,