Writing in The Wakefield Free Press, ‘The Rambler’ recalls a visit to Coxley Valley, Sunday 22 July, 1888.
I arrived at this much talked of “beautiful and charming resort” with senses refreshed by the newly-made hay and the various wild flowers that send forth their perfume from the woods up the slope. A turn of the road soon brought me in sight of “Belmont Shanty” as it is called, and as I read a bill on the boards my spirits began to revive. Here is a copy of it:
“This way to Belmont Gardens.”
Pleasure Boats
Following the directions thus pointed I failed to find any, but continuing down the western slope, I reached the bottom, when lo, I beheld a small lake, and on it several pleasure boats plying their living freight, as busy as if Sunday was of no moment to them.
The Photographer
In disgust at the sight, I went on my way until I came in close quarters with a photographic establishment, the proprietor of which, finding six days’ work not sufficient, continues to labour on the seventh.
‘Terrible Red Dwarfs’
I certainly expect when his plate of the concert of last Sunday becomes fully developed, I shall be immortalised in the same, with a book in hand and sad at heart.
Yes, sad at heart, pained in mind, and trembling for the awful doom that awaited those “terrible red dwarfs” seen in Coxley Valley last Sunday.
And were there really some in the Valley? Yes, and of all the dwarfs that ever did live these certainly did the most harm.
This was all the more wonderful because they were so ridiculously small, measuring only a few inches in length. Then I noticed that the caves in which they lived were dark, low arched, but strongly guarded. Then there were two ivory gates shut them in fast, and outside there were two other gates that were made to fasten quite closely.
There was no other in all the land that was so secured; and yet, in spite of all this, there was not another dwarf that it was so difficult to shut up.
Their conversation from beginning to end was discussing that all-important event to come off shortly between Horbury Bridge St. John’s and Thornhill cricket teams for the Challenge Cup.
The Band Stand
Finding no cessation of their obscene language, I left the dwarfs’ quarters and wended my way to the band stand, when, by the strains of sweet music played from the heart and soul by the bandsmen, my frame of mind came back again to its former self, and for the the rest of the afternoon I delighted myself in listening to the various selections and enjoying the beautiful scenery up the slope, and the warbling song of birds.
The band, which consisted of about 21 performers, played remarkably well, under the conductorship of Mr Wm. Atkinson, the bandmaster, andd the following programme was gone through :- The “Gloria,” from Mozart’s 12th Mass; chorus, “Maritana,” by Wallace; “Hallelujah Chorus”; rect. &c., “Comfort ye my people,” “And the glory of the Lord,” “The hours of beauty,” concluding with the National Anthem.
Wicken Tree Hall
During the performance a collection was made in aid of the band funds, and, it now being turned four o’clock and threatening water clouds hanging overhead, I drew myself together, went on to the old well-established Wigantree* Hall (kept by an old lady over 80 years of age, and her daughter), refreshed myself with a cup of good tea, and after becoming the recipient of a bit of grand-motherly advice from the old lady, I made my way back home again, and on the journey determined to let your readers know about the Sunday visit to Coxley Valley of the poor, old “Rambler.”
*Wicken Tree Hall, probably a transcription error from ‘Rambler’s’ handwritten article.
Extract form The Wakefield Free Press, Saturday 28 July, 1888
Link
Coxley Valley I’m reprinting my A6 booklet later this month