The record-union., 1891-04-19

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 an
odd character many of the Ilkley folk
still remember, by the name of Willie
Hardie. In those days, by favor, all
cripples were tiddlers or teachers. Willie
Hardie was both. He was about the
worst cripple and best fiddler and teacher
the Ilkley district ever knew. He had a
strange squint in his eyes, but for all that
was a great marksman with the ferule.
There was no use of lodging. 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 Fews-
ton teaching and humping just as they
had left him. Crossing the worn thresh-
old they very sternly inquired:
us this Willie Hardie?'
And if it is?" he answered cannily.
"How are you getting along, sir?"
Use weel enough, but doan't know
ye,"
1--WE used to be your scholars, sir. We
have come to give you back your thrash
''Noa, noa-an' We will notr' shouted
'owd Willien at the intruders, instinc-
lively grasping his ferule.
'Then they made rush at him, telling
him who they were, and giving him a
great hustling, until he purchased free
dom by promise TO play for them tune
on the old fiddle then and there; and he
gave them 'Sweet Home." until there
was not dry eye in the little, low school
house.
At IA Collyer was "'prenticed' to
"Owd jackie Birch, the Ilkley village
blacksmith. The lad was pretty steady
about middling, about middlingp' he
will himself tell you, with twinkle Of
the old Yorkshire light in his eyes. The
old, old women of Ilkley tell me they
were pretty sure Of the orthodoxy of any
little village fun he had hand in. One
recalls certain night long ago, when
there had been some 'doings" which
held until 2 o'clock in the morning, at
which time she overheard, from the win
dow Of her chamber, a little conversation
between the miller and his wife, who was
awaiting the truant, something after the
manner of Tam o. Shanter's good dame
She greeted him with:
Why, David, mon, thaa be out too
Iater
'Noa, noa, woman, Boab Collyer's yet
behind mer he retorted in an injured
way.
What! Boab2 Then thaa be home
full airlyr'
But these were days of insatiate book
hunger for the young Yorkshire black
smith. The only industries of Iikley at
that time were "wool-combing and ludg-
ers." Wool-combing is gone; but, now,
IN the summer time, thousands come
here as ''ludgers," for rest and health
getting at Illlley's famous hydropathic
institutes and springs. One of these
wool-combers, John Dobson, farmer's s
lNrNr- 40 I'd ~ III
named John Hobson, and the prentice
boy Collyer, became friends, and formed
compact about books, reading and
study. Morning, noon, night and Sun
days they took turns" reading aloud,
exchanging ideas and aspirations, and
thus grew into the possession of noble,
self-reliant manhood. The wave of Wes-
leyanism was still strong over the north
ern moors. a local preacher named
Bland, now in Canada, preached a SER
mon one Sabbath which took a wondrous
hold on the young blacksmith, though
no revival was in progress; and, "at
last, the light came" The Methodists
"oId Jim DeIve'S class" a few nights
after Delve was absent; and, as Collyer
has often told me, ''up spoke Tom Smith
from across the room: 'Naa, lad, thaa
nun lead t'class tnight; thaa can do it if
thaa tries y" So he took hold and led
In little while they made him local
preacher. His first sermon was great
event in the district. 1t was preached at
Addingham, little hamlet three miles
up the Wharfe from Ilkley.
"Oh, | thought / had a capital sermon
thoughu' Mr.. Collyer once said to me.
1T was in three parts, each, of course,
essential to the others. They didn't
allow fellow paper in those days, either.
Their curious eyes were all wide open,
and / thought had done splendidly: but
half way back to IlkIey i suddenly re-
membered | had left the secondly out
entirely. L was quite overwhelmed about
it. But the joke Of it all was, that / had
bodily stolen my secondly from a fine
sermon preached by good Presbyterian
weight Of that judgment on me so heav-
lily that l have never stolen a sermon
sincer
Then they must hear him at Ilkley.
Ali the boys and girls were there, and
the young blacksmith thought he had
made a great impression. While this
was glowing in his mind on his way to
the forge the next morning, the old vii
lage cobbler called QUITE him from where
he was hammering away underneath his
porch:
AZ say, lad, come here / ha' summat
to say to ye. l heard thaa preach last
night" There was broad grin on his
face.
Did ye, thought" returned the black
smith proudly.
u did. And think thou'lt me- 'er max
a preacher as long as thaa lives, Boab! ~
He was stunned by this, for the cobbler
was the village oracle. The latter saw
how sorely he had hurt him, and kind
| heartedly added: "Now, doan't mistake
me, Boab. Thou wants to reason too
much. Thou may'st lecture, but thaa
can never be a preacherr'
When you stand by the ancient church
Of All Saints and look in upon its messy
graves and the Runic crosses, your hands
will grasp the bars of its huge iron gates.
| They were forged on "owd Jaclkie'sn an
Vii by this same stout-hearted York
shire Blacksmith" And somehow as
one turns away from Ilkley the feeling
comes strongly that there was wrought
into these rods and bars hero-grit more
impressive and imperishable than is re-
Vealed in all other monuments or tokens
left III Wharfedale since the days when
| the Romans trod these pleasant ways.
EDGAR l.. WAKEMAN
For the SUNDAY UNIoS.l
APPLE BLOSSOMS.
As softly as the falling of the blossoms at my
feet,
Steals the old-time sweetness DER me: and the
vision is complete;
Till l close nay eyes and linger 10th to break