The Yorkshire Cousins

Front matter

BY STEPHEN WYKE. LONDON : SIMPK1N, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO., Ltd. 1896. [All rights rcsemesi.W PREFATORY NOTE. It. has occurred to the Editor that fastidious wool merchants and wool buyers may be offended with the contents of Chapter XLI. Let them rest assured that no reflection is intended to be cast on either class, or on any firm or individual whatever; and it is right to add that the wool trade of this country is carried on by a body of men whose standard of integrity leaves nothing to be desired. But the exigencies of character and situation demand corresponding treatment, and the easy virtue of persons like Ben Davison and Timothy Crapper will bring about such relations as existed between them, be the trade or vocation what it may. CONTENTS. chapter page i. scarborough _--..- i 11. family history ...... 8 III.

A trip to saltburn - - - - -14 IV. A DINNER WITH A PHILOSOPHER, AND HIS VIEWS ON BRADFORD TRADE AND OTHER CONGENIAL TOPICS - 21 V. MR. KAUFMANN ON PUBLIC HEALTH, EDUCATION, AND RETIREMENT FROM BUSINESS - - - - 33 VI. IN WHICH TWO YOUNG LADIES EXCHANGE OPINIONS - 37 VII. MR. KAUFMANN ON THE SUFFERINGS OF THE WORLD - 40 VIII. HUSBAND AND WIFE - - - - 51 IX. FORESHADOWINGS - - - - - - 6l X. A HEARTY WELCOME TO A RICH RELATION - - 65 XI. LONELY MUSINGS BY THE SEA - - - 70 XII. SYMPATHY .----.. 76 XIII. MR. DAVISON GETS INTO HOT WATER - - - 8l XIV. HARRY GRAY SEEKS COUNSEL - - - 90 XV. AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE, AND A CONSULTATION - I03 XVI. MR. DAVISON A.\D HIS LETTERS - 109 XVII. THE COUSINS IN BRADFORD - - - - 115 XVIII. BRADFORD EXCHANGE - - - - - 122 XIX. FATHER AND SON ---.._ 133 XX. MOTHER AND SON ------ 138 XXI.

A JOURNEY TO MID WALES - - - - 141 XXII. MR. KAUFMANN ON THE LAND QUESTION - - I49 XXIII. IN THE CONSERVATORY - - - - - 1 58 XXIV. HARRY AND HESTER - - - - - 164 XXV. THE FISHING EXCURSION AND A CHASE - - - 1 72 XXVI. MR. KAUFMANN ON PLANTING TREES, NATIONAL WEALTH, INDOOR LABOUR, SHORTER HOURS, AND FREE TRADE- 184 XXVII. BOTH COUSINS REQUEST PERMISSION, ETC. - - CONTENTS viii CHAPTER PAGE xxviii. hester and jane in the conservatory, and what they said to each other - - - - 2i3 xxix. mr. kaufmann on follies - - - -217 xxx. at the horse fair ----- 23o xxxi. mr. kaufmann on great britain and ireland - 246 xxxii. hostilities ...-.- 258 xxxiii. little tom at lenton grange - - - 266 xxxiv. life at the {.range ----- 275 xxxv. the pointing-stone ----- 2s4 xxxvi. harry gray invites some geniuses to spend an evening with him ----- 296 xxxvii. the haunted room - - - - - 3ii xxxviii. passing away ------ 320 xxxix. mr. davison declines an invitation - - 327 xl. mr. kaufmann's address to young men - - 337 xli. the elder cousin and his way of life - - 353 xlii. the younger cousin and his way of life - - 362 xi-iii. after two years ----- 369 xi.iv. little tom seeks his father in the streets of london by night ----- 3s1 xlv. the search continued ----- 388 xlvi. tom meets with friends - - - . 39c xlvii. the situation becomes desperate - - - 403 xlvui. little tom sought for and found - - - 406 xlix. an unexpected meeting - - - . 421 l. retribution ...... 428 li. the call of duty ..... 430 lii. the parting of the cousins - - . - 43s liii. good-bye to bradford ----- 443 liv. conclusion ......

Chapter I. Scarborough

Scarborough in August, 1870. A glorious evening, set off with a cloudless sky. The blue ocean dotted with pleasure boats and fishing craft. Steamers melting away in the distance. Moon — nearly at full — just risen, though the sun has not yet gone down. The endless roar of the crested breakers going on, as it has been going on through past ages, as it shall go on through the ages to come. Hundreds of visitors on the Spa promenade, attired in all the colours of the rainbow, and sauntering to and fro, listening to the strains of the superb band, the skilled conductor and members of which are in high spirits this evening, for is it not a Mozart night ? Music fit for Eden is discoursed. And the scene is passing fair, such as we poor mortals rarely have the chance of beholding in our voyagings down the stream of time ; for earth, and air, and sky, and sea, and music, and summer flowers, are all here in perfection, to store the mind with images of loveliness, and haunt the memory in future years.

Youth and beauty are fairly represented on the promenade. Charming girls, richly dressed, glide along, looking unutterable things, their bright eyes glancing hither and thither in a flurry of excitement, their movements betraying a vivid consciousness of the interest with which those movements are watched. Other young women are here, with passable or plain features, shading off from grace and good looks in every variety of gradation down to absolute ugliness, who look on their lovelier sisters with envy, and a disposition, perhaps, to scratch something — say their Grecian noses. Middle-aged ladies, both married and single, are present in goodly numbers, some of whom are undoubtedly on matri monial thoughts intent, for selves or offspring. Troops of young men are to be observed stalking along in every descrip tion of costume, complexion, temperament, and character, a large percentage of whom are evidently ambitious of notice, and entertain immovable opinions that hearts are breaking for them in all directions, opinions which are not shared by the young ladies at all.

The aristocracy are not plentiful in Scarborough just now — season for these not yet arrived ; and it would appear that the majority of this assembly are of the upper middle-classes, with, however, numerous exceptions. Merchants from the great manu facturing districts of the West Riding may be seen in all direc tions ; foreigners amongst them, many of whom are distinctly of Hebrew extraction. Bankers, brokers, coal-owners, iron masters, timber-dealers, and other active capitalists, are here, seeking to throw off business cares and improve their appetites and redden their faces with the change and the bracing air. All the leading trades carried on in the greatest manufacturing country in the world have their representatives in this surging crowd. So, again, with the professions. There are several ornaments of the Church in the passing throng — round-faced, rosy, and in high sanitary condition, somewhat suggestive of morning dips in the German Ocean.

Some of the reverend gentlemen strut a little, as if wanting in the humility they undoubtedly possess, and carry their heads high, as if troubled with too much self-consciousness and pride. But they are, on the whole, good and worthy members of a good and worthy priesthood, though obviously too well satisfied with the existing order of things. There are types of other professions present ; for example, a sprinkling of the legal element in those fashionable ranks, for are not solicitors and articled clerks seen parading here like less favoured mortals? Likewise personages in the higher walks of the law. The long vacation is on, and persuasive advocates have cast aside awful-looking wigs and gowns, turned their backs on Westminster and Chancery Lane, and swarmed to every point of the compass.

Several of them are here, and delight in showing themselves where so much of the world is to be seen. There, for instance, is a gigantic barrister, with a pair of hideously long legs, a Welsh name, and a kind face, who is considered to be the greatest living authority on con- SCARBOROUGH 3 veyancing, holding forth to a member of the parliamentary bar, and it is pretty obvious that he is not talking about freehold, nor leasehold, nor copyhold, nor any other ' hold.' And the other listens with a visage brimful of amusement, until the legal giant has ended his tale — evidently of the funny order — when both explode with a highly professional roar. It is as clear as noonday that both are doing well, and that they, too, are satisfied with things as they are. Here is a physician, seated near the band-stand, listening with rapt attention to the sublime music of the ' Jupiter Sym phony ' — a man whose nod means life, whose shaking of the head signifies the approaching end and the long farewell.

The modest demeanour of this gentleman is in odd contrast to the behaviour of the fast students, plentiful enough and to spare, noted for swell apparel, bold looks, and carrying about them an atmosphere of cigars. Other members of the healing brotherhood are present. Doctors from big towns — who have left the smoke and noise of factories, and engines, and furnaces, and looms, and spindles, and hammers behind for a whiff of fresh air on the coast — are here, along with country surgeons, tired of the monotony and humdrum round of daily and nightly duties amongst the rural peasantry, who are not always inter esting, and do not always pay. Who is that gray-haired person of large frame with the white hat on ? He is a Sandy, if ever one walked, and hails from the neighbourhood of Aberdeen ; has lately retired from the Indian Civil Service, with and a brimstone complexion, to represent thirty years of honest and faithful labour.

He is one of an invaluable class ; all honour to him for good work ! And whom have we here ? Grave senators — the cream of humanity? Even so. Two gentlemen, walking together, are loftily beholding the well-dressed crowd through eye-glasses, and now and then bestow on their acquaintances a nod, savouring of affable courtesy and consciousness of worth. Both these patriots are alike in some respects. Both are silent in the House (and this, mark you, is worthy of all praise), and both have a weakness for figuring on committees dealing with private bills. Both attend annual meetings of their constituents, clothed in lions' hides, with manes well to the front, and both, at such times, stand erect, and roar in a kingly manner. And it is worth remarking that both can easily fill their respective town-halls with blatant politicians, who would evince but a languid curiosity to see or hear Darwin, or Ruskin, or Spencer.

Land warriors and sea warriors file past, much raked with shot from female batteries. There is stirring news, and pro motion is in the air; but the most pacific of Governments is in office, and intends to keep a watchful eye on the estimates. Hence comes it that the valiant sons of Mars talk much of Britannia's decay of spirit, and, scenting the battle from afar, give significant snorts, and complain of Continental arrogance. All Britons and Irishmen are fighting animals by nature ; and if they can only manage to thrust in where knocking of heads is going on, do not greatly care to whom they belong, provided they have the privilege of knocking them. So that, being debarred from this healthy exercise, naval and military heroes are mourning this fine evening — but stare hard at youth and beauty, nevertheless.

The stage is amply represented. That comedian — but why pursue it further ? Let those who desire to view such an assembly, and look on the famous watering-place at its best, pay a visit to Scarborough in August, and they shall see what is here described, and more. Time glides on ; the sun has disappeared, the heavenly bodies are becoming visible, and the chastened radiance of the moon is reflected back from sea and land. The Spa buildings are illuminated with hundreds of lamps, and hundreds more are seen in the wooded slopes and walks. Night is turned into day. During the intervals of the band, the buzz of conversation is incessant. The older folks are talking of a great European war ; for France — high-spirited, envious, fond of glory, and un just — has challenged Germany — grave, learned, and lion-hearted — to mortal combat.

Germany has accepted the challenge, and already dealt the aggressor some staggering blows. France is reeling ; grave events are expected ; and the more experienced heads in that brilliant throng are trying to forecast the hidden future of the contest, and its probable effects and bearings on the trade and commerce and employment of the country. Looking now on this superb scene, is it possible to imagine that volcanic passions underlie these smiling or serene exteriors? Alas for poor human nature ! Two well-dressed young men are on the balcony, and look down on the moving crowd. One of them, who has seen perhaps seven or eight and twenty summers, is tall, straight, and altogether massive in appearance. A large-headed and big-chested man, with fearless blue eyes, golden-brown hair, rather wide mouth, good teeth, and faultless nose, he is, on the SCARBOROUGH 5 whole, a decidedly fine-looking man, and his countenance is expressive of courage and good nature, along with a sense of humour.

His companion is some years younger, and, though quite as tall, is more slenderly built, and of gentlemanly appearance. He looks grave, though gentle ; but the gentleness is modified by the lines about the mouth, which bespeak a resolute character and a clear-set purpose. For the rest, he is a good-looking and well-made, limby youth, though not so conspicuously handsome as his friend. Both have been gazing for some time on the animated scene below without speaking. At last the younger man addresses his companion : ' Ben ?' ' Well, what is it ?' ' You remember the party I spoke of this afternoon ?' ' You mean the old gentleman and two charming young ladies ?' inquires Ben. ' Yes. The old gentleman is here, and one of the young ladies.' ' Can you point them out ?' ' Yes ; they will be here presently, and you shall see them.

I wonder what those two fellows mean,' adds the speaker to himself; ' they do not look like friends.' Another interval of silence between the pair, broken again by the younger man as follows : ' They are coming ! Look, Ben ! do you see that couple — that stout old gentleman, with a young lady by his side ?' ' Yes ; I see them.' ' Then, a little further on — follow my finger — you see those two fellows ?' ' Yes ; what of them ?' ' I believe they are dogging the footsteps of the old gentleman and the young lady,' ejaculates the younger man. ' So ? Then let us keep our eyes on them. A fine girl, Harry.' ' A lovely girl !' Again an interval of silence. Both the young men shift their positions as required, and eagerly watch the movements of two well-dressed persons with eye-glasses — not necessarily gentlemen —who look not unlike two men about town.

One of them is seen to touch the young lady's arm. On turning hastily round, she is confronted with a bold look from an utter stranger — who is probably not quite sober — which makes her shrink, and speak to her companion. The old gentleman turns round with a stern look at the brace of rascals, who, perceiving that several others have also turned round to have a second look at them, slink away as if to avoid a scene. There is something so dignified in the appearance of the old gentleman, and so captivating in the lady, that the attention of the two spectators is riveted upon them as they move leisurely along. Half an hour elapses, and it is a little darker ; then the old man and his fair companion are seen to withdraw from the crowd and ascend the flights of steps leading to the wooded paths which wind up to the Esplanade. ' Have you seen them before, Ben ?' 'No.' ' Father and daughter, think you ?' ' Shouldn't wonder.

Looks old, though, for father.' ' Look, Ben ! those fellows are following them !' ' You are right,' returns Ben. ' Let us follow them, too.' Meanwhile, the old gentleman and the young lady are slowly winding their way upward, when, in a lonely place, their progress is barred by two persons, and the girl recognises with appre hension that one of them is the individual who shortly before had touched her arm. This person now accosts her : ' Pleasant evening, young lady.' No answer is returned ; but the old gentleman grasps his walking-stick firmly, and endeavours to pass by, but finds that a half-passive resistance is offered by the unmannerly pair. ' A fine evening, sir.' ' I don't know you, sir ; and let me add that I don't wish to know you.' returns the old gentleman with emphasis. ' Keep cool, sir ; no occasion for a row,' is the reply. ' Make way, sir, instantly, or I shall summon assistance.' ' I had the honour to observe, sir, that it is a fine evening,' says the other, with the unmistakable accent of a Londoner. ' I also expressed the same opinion to this young and very attractive lady.' Here the speaker smiles feebly, and hiccups.

Miss disdains to reply, but at this juncture two gentlemen join the party — Ben and Harry. They had witnessed the scene, had flown to the rescue, and were now prepared to become actors in the little drama if need be. ' Young gentlemen, pardon me,' says the old gentleman. ' I wish to ask for your interference. These persons — who are SCARBOROUGH 7 strangers to us — have rudely attempted to force upon us dis tasteful civilities, which we decline.' These words are delivered with a slightly foreign accent. ' Rest assured they will not repeat their insolence, sir,' bursts in our brave young Harry fiercely. ' Mind your own business,' is the gruff mandate which issues from the lips of the enemy, followed by a second hiccup. ' Harry, permit me,' says Ben, stepping forward. No more words. One, two, three strokes are delivered with the rapidity of lightning, and the scamp is laid low.

He has received a blow on either eye, another in the region of the heart, and lies gasping. His friend seems to grasp the posi tion of affairs, and to draw an inference. The inference is that his best plan is to bolt ; he bolts accordingly. During this little scene the young lady's agitation is evinced by her pale features. The old gentleman draws her away, and motions Harry to follow, which he is not slow to do, while the discomfited cockney rises and solemnly picks up his hat. The hat is not much injured, though it has just achieved an extraordinary jump. It is replaced as before, and then the owner, turning to Ben, asks in a tipsy, threatening manner for his name, and Ben presents his card. ' There is my card,' says he. ' You will find me at the C Hotel when wanted, and,' adds he significantly, 'when I am not wanted, too.' His adversary holds it to his fast-closing eyes, and manages to make it out by the light of a lamp. 'Mr. Benjamin Davison.

Very well, Mr. Benjamin Davison, you shall hear from me again.' Ben again steps forward, but the foe, divining his intentions, executes a movement which carries him out of danger in a few seconds ; and Mr. Davison, aware that the Cliff Company's regulations to preserve order are very strict, does not think it worth his while to pursue the retreating Londoner, but re joins his young friend, whom he finds conversing with the interesting strangers. He is rewarded with a slight smile and grateful look from the dark eyes of the beautiful girl. All women admire courage, as all men admire beauty. The old gentleman thanks them heartily for the timely service they have rendered him, and will be happy to see them again if they are staying long in Scarborough. Cards are exchanged : Mr. Leopold Kaufmann, Miss Kaufmann ; Mr. Benjamin Davison, Air.

Henry Gray. Mr. Kaufmann is the father of Miss Kaufmann, and a foreigner, but naturalized in England, and as good a British subject as any Briton living. Mr. Kaufmann, whose vision seems a little impaired, makes out the names with some difficulty, and turns to Harry Gray. 'Pardon me,' observes he suddenly, 'your voice sounds strangely familiar. I firmly believe that I am talking to the son of my old friend, Dr. Gray, of Haxelby. Is that so, young man ?' ' I am the only son of Dr. Gray, of Haxelby,' replies Harry, blushing in spite of himself. ' And you are Mr. Kaufmann of whom he talks so much ?' The old gentleman shakes him warmly by the hand. ' You are right, young man. You are the worthy son of a worthy sire. And how is your father?' ' He is in good health, sir, thank you.' ' Hester, this young man is the son of my particular friend, Dr. Gray.' The young couple shake hands without speaking. ' I might have known you were Dr. Gray's son if we had been nearer the lights,' pursues the old gentleman, ' for now I perceive you are his very image, copied by Nature in her happiest mood — you are indeed.

Come and dine with us to-morrow at seven o'clock — both of you. We are in private apartments at No. — , a few doors above the Crown.' The invitation is duly accepted by the young men with feelings of the liveliest satisfaction, especially by the younger one. Then good wishes are expressed, hands are shaken, and they separate.

Chapter II. Eamil

Y HIS TOR Y. The two young men strolled leisurely to their hotel, which happened to be at some distance from the Esplanade. As may be supposed, their conversation had reference to the defeated swell and his threats — to the companion who ran away with such alacrity — to the old gentleman and his invitation to dinner — and to the fair girl, and their chances of seeing more of her the next day. The circumstances of their meeting had a tinge of romance about them highly gratifying FAMILY HISTORY 9 to Harry's poetic temperament, and he dwelt with rapture on Miss Kaufmann's charms, until Ben responded with a terrific gape, and followed it up with a series of yawns of such magni tude — his mouth being rather wide — that his eyes watered again. As nothing more could be done with him that night, both retired to their double-bedded room, and it is worth mentioning that Mr. Davison slept so soundly, and snored so sweetly, that Harry dreamed he was in a naval engagement, and that no orders could be heard during the battle on account of the tremendous noise occasioned by the roar of artillery.

At this stage it may be useful to explain who these young men were. Harry Gray was the only son of a medical man in good practice, who, inheriting a fair patrimony and marrying well, had contrived to amass a considerable sum of money. Dr. Gray was a Churchman, and leaned to Conservative politics — was, in every sense of the word, a respectable man. It has pleased certain people of late years to cry down respectability as an affair of outside appearances, hollow cant, repellant Pharisaism ; yet the world adores it with all its faults, and the reason is obvious. It means tried virtue, steady and successful application to all the duties of life, social purity, a disposition to please and be pleased, a virtuous bringing-up of children, a desire for creditable friends, a patriotic liking for rational and solid progress to all classes alike, and a conformity (some times carried too far) to the observances and etiquette of society.

No doubt this same respectability has its little weak nesses, for it wears gloves in hot weather, cannot go to church in a billycock, and is inclined to be supercilious to Dissenters. But in spite of satirists, the common-sense of mankind is not shocked by a craving for the good opinion of those around us. Yet no man enjoyed the sweetness of solitude more than the doctor, for he well knew that the best part of life is when we leave the world and its works behind us for a brief period to come face to face with the Universal Mother, and hold silent communion with her. Dr. Gray, then, was highly respected as one whose character was free from reproach, and it need hardly be added that he was content with his lot, though, as a son of Adam, he might have a slight twinge now and then, which he kept to himself; for one is thankful to know that whilst perfectly faultless women are as plentiful as daisies, perfectly faultless men are impossible.

The doctor's mother was still living, and he had a brother and two sisters. This brother — Mr. Richard Gray— was a farmer, and a noted judge at agricultural shows. He was also a distinguished breeder of horses, and possessed a herd of pedigree shorthorns, which, for milking and feeding qualities, were famed throughout the land ; he likewise devoted much attention to grasses, and to chemistry as related to the soil. Richard Gray was reputed to be well off — was certainly popular, kind-hearted, manly, paid his rates, and feared no man living. Dr. Gray's eldest sister — a lady who rejoiced in the name of Elizabeth — had been married to Mr. Christopher Davison, a Yorkshire wool merchant, but was now a widow in her fifty third year. She had only one child, but he was a son, and an interesting son, too, being none other than our massive young friend Ben, of whom more hereafter.

Dr. Gray's youngest sister Margaret was a tall, dark -haired, handsome woman, who, at the time when this narrative opens, was in her thirty-second year. Her thin lips and firm-set mouth, along with a certain quickness of manner and move ment, indicated decision of character, which, indeed, verged a little too much on the masculine side. Her head was well thrown back, her general appearance dignified and imposing ; but her voice was not like Cordelia's, being exceedingly deep and powerful. Whispers had languidly circulated among her friends that her favourite song was ' Why do the nations ?' Whether this were true or not, she was an accomplished musician, and her rendering of Beethoven's sonatas on the pianoforte — for Beethoven was her idol — was a treat not to be forgotten in a hurry. She could also play well on the violin, and was a good organist, though rumour would have it that her favourite instrument was the bass trombone.

She had declined several offers of marriage for various reasons satisfactory to herself, quite regardless of the opinions of others, being one of those strange persons who believe that marriage is one's own affair. When barely eighteen, a thriving young lawyer proposed to her, but met with a prompt refusal. It was a case where professional weapons were of no avail — mandamus and injunction were alike worthless ; she could not be called upon to show cause, and his interrogatory had already been answered. The young lawyer troubled her no more. Soon after, she was honoured with the notice of a rich widower, with ears of unusual length (which ought, moreover, to have gone on growing), who was the sleeping partner in a city firm celebrated for their cutlery business. Eventually this FAMILY HISTORY 11 gentleman sought an interview with Margaret, who listened to him while he dwelt with fervour on the advantages which would accrue to her from an alliance with him, and wound up by laying himself and his fortune at her feet — with certain reserva tions.

She did not perceive the advantages, but she perceived that his hair was gray, and his back was round. His offer was therefore declined with thanks. A mild, studious gentleman, somewhat advanced in years, next turned up, and talked a good deal about Ovid and Quin tilian. She was truly sorry for this amiable scholar, and ex plained to him, with all feeling and gentleness, that it was impossible for her to love him — his stature being eight inches under the mark, and his time of life thirty years above it — but trusted that his extensive classical attainments would be rewarded by some better alliance with a lady more qualified to appreciate his worth and merit, and to share his affection for Ovid and Quintilian. Another gentleman, well endowed by nature and fortune, next made her an offer, which was promptly rejected, on account of his widespread reputation for being able to eat a leg of mutton at one sitting.

The owner of this reputation disappeared with laudable precipitation on scoring his refusal, and was followed by a candidate for matrimony whose proposals were inadmissible for divers weighty reasons — from a feminine point of view — two of which need only be enumerated. His left leg described a considerable curve, and his right one, though straighter, was made of cork, and Miss Gray shared the general prejudice against cork legs. She refused to court with another wealthy wooer, who to the manners of a navvy added a disregard of truth. One or two other admirers tried their luck with the haughty beauty, but their overtures were respectfully declined, though it is but justice to add that she had too much good sense to divulge honourable proposals which she had not seen fit to accept. The upshot of all this was that she still remained with her mother and her brother Richard, apparently contented with her lot.