If the patience of your readers has not already been exhausted, I should like to give a few more recollections. The first to be mentioned is Alec Temple, a joiner, very competent as a workman, but a terrible man to argue, and who always reminded me of the old saying ‘Convince a man against his will, and he is of the same opinion still.’ There was ‘Dicky’ Robinson at the ‘Tom and Jerry,’ where there was always one good customer in the house. The next old standards were ‘Jim’ and Betty Maw and their father. I can remember seeing the latter making matches and dipping them in brimstone, to be afterwards lit with flint and steel, with the aid of tinder. No smoker went to work without a supply of flints and steel and pieces of rag dipped in saltpetre. The Lucifer match had been invented by a gentleman at Stockton on Tees, but they were too dear to be used as they are now. To return to ‘Jim’ Maw, he was a restless being, never could sit still a minute, but was not over fond of work, and his end was death through starvation - ‘if a man will not work neither shall he eat.’
At the end of the village, there were the Singletons, ‘Tommy’ and John. The latter was a disciple of Dr. Coffin, and knew what herbs were for the use of man. I forgot to mention old ‘Bob’ Taylor, who rode his donkey from morn till night, tenting the cottagers’ cows in the lanes, etc. Whenever he received food, which was given to him at the farmhouses, he always asked for ‘a bit for the poor old dame.’
Jim Maw was not the only man who died through want. There was a Mr. Croker, who formerly was land agent for the Old Squire, and after various wanderings, returned to the village and died from starvation. Poor people had the greatest abhorrence of the Pickering Poor-House in those days and were terrified when they saw the Relieving Officer riding down the village. The latter was always addressed as ‘Mr’ - a very rare thing in Ebberston, as all, were spoken to in their Christian names, although when spoken of their names were abbreviated as ‘Thomas’ to Tom’, etc.
John Craven should find a place in these recollections. He was fond of his gun and fishing rod, and the writer has spent many happy days with him in Troutsdale, and at Yedingham. There is always some suspicion in reading angling stories, but I can vouch for this one. Mr. Craven was out duck-shooting on the Derwent at Yedingham; shot a duck which fell into the river, and the duck was no sooner in the river than it was seized by a pike; but the duck was too much for the pike to gorge, and the latter was choked in the attempt, so the sportsman secured both duck and pike. Readers should have no difficulty in giving credence to this story, as the pike is such a voracious fish that it will seize almost anything when in the humour for biting, even boot soles or any shiny substance. I remember an old man and his son named Lackey, as they lived opposite to the house in which I was born, and they, like many others, had severe struggles to live through the severe winters. These two people existed on peas and barley-meal during one cold winter, as they could not afford to eat anything except what they grew on their bit of land.
‘Mike’ Temple was the last to be mentioned. He was a bit of a character, and used to go a-courting on horse-back to Wykeham. On his way back he stopped at Welldale Beck to give his horse a drink, forgetting for the moment that the place was haunted. While the horse was drinking, to his great dismay he saw the ghost, which in reality was his own and his horse’s shadow. But I will describe his adventure in his own words as near as I can. ‘Ah no sooner saw the ghost than ah set off full gallop on to Cowton, up Cowton and down Cowton, till ah git tit toon, and nivver stopt till ah did get there; as ah rade as hard as ah could gan, and rare and glad ab was when I landed all tea, as ah was all of a muck sweat - an ‘as an all - but ah s’aI gan’t lo rooad next tarm’.
‘Mike’ should have been more familiar with ghosts, as their farm yard adjoined Mr ‘Butcher? Pearson’s Orchard, where it was often declared a ghost could be seen. This must have been a terrible monster, and was called in the vernacular a ‘geaas saucer,’ as it had eyes as big as a saucer, although I never saw it. Another ghost often talked about was at the Church gates, but I never saw this either, although I passed the place at all hours of the night. There were fairies, too, diminutive human creatures dancing in the meadows. How could country people deny their existence when their rings were so plainly to be seen in Bowncliff and in other places. Of course, the good people had not then become acquainted with the fact that mushrooms were responsible for the rings.
Progress has been made, as there is now a good supply of fine spring water conveyed down the village in pipes from Ebberston Dale, but there is another improvement I should like to see. Orchards, 60 years ago, produced an abundance of fine apples and plums, but then orchards are now in a state of decay. Surely when fixity of tenure is not in question, the inhabitants should plant sufficient fruit trees to fill up the gaps made by the revolutions of time.
I can remember the time wheat-plums sent to Scarborough market, fetched a penny a stone, and as the carrier charged this sum for his trouble, the producer got nothing; but there is a better market now for all kinds of fruit, as everyone has become aware of the value of fruit as a diet. When this tree planting has been accomplished, Ebberston will then be a delightful place and a fit resort for the recuperation of health.
So, good-bye, dear Ebberston, and all its good folks.
CHAS. METCALF
Linthorpe, Middlesbrough
Unfortunately it has not been possible to find the newspaper in which this article appeared.
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