William Martin

William Martin.

“I stood beside a newly-open’d grave,
And gazed upon a coffin placed therein,
When straight before mine eyes a vision pass’d
Changing like human life. At first a youth
Full of high thoughts of heaven-born Poêsy, 5
Row’d me along the Leven in his boat;
And, as we floated on the crystal stream,
We held discourse of bards long pass’d away,
Whose songs will not die till ‘the crack of doom.’
It vanished and another pass’d met my view. 10
It was a populous city, and I met
My friend still wooing Poêsy,
And full of high philanthropy. Anon
We met in lodge Masonic, as brethren of
The ‘mystic tie,’ loving the dear old craft, 15
Which none that understand it can despise

Returning to my native vale again,
We met as wont: but health had left his cheeks,
Disease had seized upon his noble frame,
With lion-grip, that could not be removed, 20
Save by Death’s icy hand. The coffin now
Hid from my eyes all that with us remain’d
Of my dear friend. From laurel growing by
I pluck’d a branch, and dropped it in his grave,
Nor could forbear my tears. Let all his faults 25
Be buried with his bones, for they were few
And venial; let his virtues ever live,
Treasured in his friends’ memories, for they were manifold.”

‘Peter Proletarius’ (George Markham Tweddell)
[Bards & Authors, p. 171]

This poem was also an introduction to a chapter on William Martin in Tweddell's Bards and Authors of Cleveland and South Durham 1872.

The original book can be downloaded free on the Tweddell hub on this post - http://georgemarkhamtweddell.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/bards-and-authors-of-cleveland-and.html

According to Tweddell in Bard's and Authors, "William Martin was born in Newcastle in 1825. In early youth he was adopted by his kind hearted maiden Aunt - Miss Martin, a member of the society of Friends at Great Ayton. William martin was inspired by the works of Burns. Tweddell first published him in his newspaper - Stokesley News in 1844, and though he never published a volume, he continued to write occasional pieces for the press up until his death. He wrote a poem called Be Kind to the Poor for Tweddell's proposed collection of poems to raise funds for the Bury Ragged School of which Tweddell was Master but which never got published.Tweddell published his poem in Bards and authors. He became the manager of his Aunt's leather warehouse in Oldham Street, Manchester. He was one of the founders and past master of the Cleveland Lodge of  free and accepted Masons and provincial grand sword-bearer of the North. He died in 1863 and buried in the Friends Burial Ground in Great Ayton. his funeral was attended by a great number of acquaintances for miles around - especially by his  brothers 'of the mystic tie'.

He returned to Great Ayton in 1860 and took over the Cleveland Tanneries which his family had carried on for many years." George Markham Tweddell

Francis Mewburn. (Solicitor for the Stockton and Darlington Railway / Author

Francis Mewburn.

“A form erect and manly; the body
Fit emblem of his rectitude of mind.
His hair, now bleach’d as white as winter’s snow,
After a life of honest industry,
Reminds us that his days are nearly done 5
On earth; yet will his influence survive
When he is dust, and many wish to tread
In his sure footsteps; for a well-spent life
Is never lived in vain.”

‘Peter Proletarius’ (George Markham Tweddell)
[Bards & Authors, p. 105]

This was written as a poetic introduction to a chapter in Tweddell's Bards and Authors of Cleveland and South Durham 1972 on Francis Mewburn.
You can download the original book free on this page of the Tweddell Hub. You'll find the chapter on Francis Mewburn in the book. http://georgemarkhamtweddell.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/bards-and-authors-of-cleveland-and.html

Tweddell also writes about him in his book The History of the Stockton and Darlington Railway and its various Branches. - which you can download free on this page of the Tweddell Hub
http://georgemarkhamtweddell.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/the-history-of-stockton-and-darlington.html


Francis Mewburn (bio) from http://www.bermac.co.uk/the_peases.html

"Mewburn was born at Bishop Middleham in 1785, he was said to be the legal brains behind the S&D Railway. He was also credited as being ‘Chief Bailiff’, which was a Mayoral position and which ceased on his death in 1867. Mewburn and Raisbeck were joint solicitors on the S&D project, but in 1828 Raisbeck resigned. Mewburn was not flattered by a remark made by Joseph Pease, when he told him he had the heart of a chicken; his family motto was ‘Festina Lente’, hasten with caution. Mewburn attended school at Ormsby near Middlesbrough, then later he was articled to a solicitor at Durham; he moved to Darlington in 1809 and it was here he began his law business. He married the daughter of Mr. Smales, Elizabeth, in 1813; they had a rather large family of girls and lived in a large house at the junction of Larchfield Street, and Coniscliffe Road, Darlington. St. Augustine's Church Hall is on this location in the present day. The house was originally owned by the Backhouse family and named by them ‘Paradise’, this was quickly changed by Mewburn. By the time the railway was progressing, in 1818, his solicitor practice was flourishing, this was when the population was around 5000. Francis attended St. Cuthbert’s Church, his family not being Quakers, and in the present day a window is dedicated in his honour. This window features St. Andrew and St. Barnabas; he was born and died on their feast days. For all he was not a Quaker he was chosen to assist Edward Pease and Jonathan Backhouse in the litigation leading to the birth of the S&D Railway. He also attended ‘The Holy Trinity Church’, in Woodland road and here again there is a plaque erected in his honour.

As stated, Mewburn became chief Bailiff of Darlington being the Bishop of Durham’s, representative. In 1846 Mewburn died of Bright’s disease, (kidney disease). The position of Bailiff ceased when Darlington became a Borough in 1868. Mewburn performed many duties one being the laying of the foundation stone for Skerne Bridge, in 1824 (on the back of a £5 note). He also started the Blackwell Bridge, in 1832. Mewburn was best known however for the legalities of the S&D Railways, and it was October 27th 1829 that he presided at a dinner at the Croft Spa Hotel, to celebrate the opening of the Croft branch.

He predicted that Darlington people would be able to leave Darlington any morning attend an opera at London in the evening and be home again by breakfast time, but breakfast should have read tea time.The well-attended inaugural meeting concluded, and the people, having full confidence in these respectable people, appointed a 40 strong management committee, made up from those prepared to subscribe £500 to the project." Read more here - http://www.bermac.co.uk/the_peases.html

Cedmon (caedmon)

Cedmon.

“The old Brigantes from our bosky brooks
And heather-covered hills far were driven;
The Roman legions had been call’d away
From Britain’s isle, to cross their swords with men
Who, rear’d in savage wilds, had over-run 5
Fair Italy, and sought to rule the world;
The hardy Saxons, from Teutonic woods,
Had made our shores their own, and fixed their feet
So firmly on the sod, that nought could shake
Their footsteps from our soil; when he arose, 10
Cedmon, the humble herdsman of the swine
That fed on mast of Cleveland’s oaks and beeches,
Or tended beeves that then were wont to graze
In Cleveland’s pastures. He heard old ocean
Dash his wild waves in fury at his feet 15
Of Cleveland’s Iron cliffs, and saw them foam
As if with rage,—anon lie sleeping on
Our silver sands, their motion as serene
As maiden’s breasts, which merely heave with breathing;
He saw the morning sun rise in its beauty, 20
Shine in its glory, and in splendour set;
The moon and stars for him adorn’d the night,
As they had done for Homer; flowers came forth
In all their rustic beauty at his feet;
And birds and bees made music for his ears; 25
And he became—a poet!”

George Markham Tweddell  as (Peter Proletarius)

From [Bards and Authors of Cleveland and South Durham p. 21, under ‘Peter Proletarius’]
Written to introduce a chapter on Caedmon.

Here is a link to a downloadable original copy of  Bards and Authors of Cleveland and South Durham 1872 by George Markham Tweddell in which you'll find the first chapter is about Caedmon. http://georgemarkhamtweddell.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/bards-and-authors-of-cleveland-and.html

Following on from Tweddell's history of Cleveland's bards and authors, William Hall Burnett (poet and editor of the (Middlesbrough) Daily Exchange included a chapter on Caedmon in his book Old Cleveland (Local Writers and Local Worthies) 1886 - downloadable here http://georgemarkhamtweddell.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/old-cleveland-local-writers-and-local.html

The Late Professor Phillips (Professor of Geology)

The Late Professor Phillips.*

Fain would I to thy honour pay,

My e’er-to-be-remembered gifted friend;
For in thy greatness thou did condescend
To kindly notice me. O for a lay
Of nobler praise than I can sing or say 5
Of thy true worth such as Burns would have penn’d
If he had known thee. Minds like thine can bend
To humbler talents, and they show always
Respect unto the poorest who may strive
To find the truth and live it. Thus to me 10
Thou show’d the author’s kind sympathy,
By thy kind praise and aid, to keep alive
In me that love of knowledge which in thee
Shone with such light of heavenly brilliancy.

Rose Cottage, Stokesley George Markham Tweddell

* John Phillips, M.A., F.G.S., F.R.S., successively Professor of Geology in the
Universities of London, Dublin, and Oxford, and an able writer on the history and
geology of Yorkshire.
[Bards and Authors, stuck inside cover, Teesside Archives copy 2, U/TW/1/18]

More information here - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Phillips_(geologist)

His book on Yorkshire geology - The Rivers and Mountains and Sea Coast of Yorkshire (with essays on the Climate, Scenery and Ancient Inhabitants of the County 1855 (PDF version here Free http://www.geology.19thcenturyscience.org/books/1855-Phillips-Yorkshire/htm/doci003.html

Daybreak in Spring.

Daybreak in Spring.


















I love to view the Daybreak when it glows,
With roseate hues, above our Cleveland Hills;
And see how soon the horizon it fills
With its full flood of light; which freely flows
From the grand Sun, which seems to us to rise 5
From clouds where he had taken his repose.
What though the merest schoolboy haply knows
That Sunrise is deception to the eyes,
Which Science has explain’d long years ago!
Yet Daybreak is as beautiful as when 10
Earth’s movements were unknown, and tongue and pen
Of great Galileo had ne’er brought woe
To the wise thinker. Are we wider grown
If we make beauty not still more our own?

To rich and poor daybreak is free, 15
If they have eyes to see and souls to feel
Those sights of Nature, which have power to heal
Great portions of all human misery.
Daybreak awakes to life and voyancy
Not merely man, but bird and butterfly, 20
The sheep and cattle that in pasture lie,
And on the wing brings forth each busy bee;
The flowers unfold their petals to the light,
And Cleveland soon is musical with song
Of feather’d choristers, which all day prolong 25
Their melody; the streams are all bedight
In silvery sheen: and Cleveland seems to be
A district form’d for true felicity.

George Markham Tweddell

Photos by Trev Teasdel

Capt. Thomas Thrush

Capt. Thomas Thrush.

Foremost ’mongst Cleveland heroes, honest THRUSH
Deserves high praise from every Cleveland bard:
Bravely with arms his native coast to guard
To him was a pleasure,—ever first to rush
Where duty calls invasion vile to crush, 5
His life he did not value, so that he
Could aid in keeping his dear country free
From foreign force. By merit he did push
His way to great distinction and reward.
But when, in after years, War seem’d to be 10
To him to be opposed to Christianity,
He to resign his Pension did not fear;
Holding that Poverty was better far
Than riches he had won, e’en by valour, in a War!

George Markham Tweddell

Read the book on line here

http://www.archive.org/stream/letteraddressedt00thrurich#page/n3/mode/2up

Mulgrave Wood

Mulgrave Wood.

All who love Nature must delight to roam
Along the sylvan glades of this old wood,
Where noble tress have many ages stood,
And many song-birds long have made their home.
Here trees of every form and hue are found, 5
And wildflowers ’neath their branches freely bloom:
For thousands, town-pent now, there here is room
To gladden eye and ear with sight and sound;
For miles of primroses are seen in Spring,
Bees sweetly hum in blossoms of the sloe; 10
Summer and Autumn too have flowers to show
By millions; birds and insects on the wing
Fill the whole air with melody; and e’en
Keen Winter all adorns with silvery sheen.

George Markham Tweddell

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mulgrave_Castle

Our Future Men and Women.

Our Future Men and Women.

Written Impromptu on seeing a Procession of several Hundred
happy-looking Children at Stokesley, June 29th, 1887, in honour of
the Queen’s Jubilee.

It is a pleasant sight, indeed, to see
Those happy Children, Boys and Girls so dear;
Let us be kind to them, that we may rear
A race of Men and Women who will be
Healthy and virtuous: then liberty 5
For our loved land will rest on a sure base,
And they will help to bless the human race
With all things leading to felicity.
Our future Men and Women! Oh, may ye
Grow up i’ knowledge of all things that are good,— 10
The Girls true patterns of pure Womanhood,
The Boys of noble Manhood, so that we
May leave the world assured that in our place
Others will stand who ne’er their country will disgrace.

George Markham Tweddell

This Stokesley photo is maybe later than 1887 but is the nearest fit for the poem.

Darnley, Husband of Mary Queen of Scots.

Darnley, Husband of Mary Queen of Scots.

For years at Whorlton Castle might be seen
The “long lad,” as Queen Bess did rightly call
Her relative, young DARNLEY. He was tall,
But never manly! weak in mind, and mean,
Despite his royal blood. On various thrones 5
His ancestors had sat: he was unfit
To rule o’er man or beast. True love ne’er knit
His heart to gentle Mary; the very stones
She trod on loved her quite as much as he
Was capable of doing. Rizzio’s groans, 10
His shrieks for mercy, and his dying moans,
Must oft echoed in his memory.
At last the murd’rous libertine was sent
To his account by means to which one cannot give assent.

George Markham Tweddell

Whorlton Castle

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Stuart,_Lord_Darnley

Lord Darnley

Arncliffe Wood, Egton

Arncliffe Wood, Egton.

I
It is a pleasant privilege to roam
From Glaisdale Station down to Egton Bridge,
Then cross the Esk, returning up the ridge,
And o’er that arch reminding us the home
Of Egton’s worthy Beggar-Boy was nigh.* 5
Those woods for Arden’s Forest might be ta’en,—
For her one half expects to meet again
The banish’d Duke and Nobles, and hear sigh
The melancholy Jacques: Touchstone may be
With Audrey and with Martext chatting near: 10
Honest Old Adam may full soon appear,
And Rosalind, and Celia we may see—
Phoebe, Orlando, Amiens, all be there,
Just As You Like It in their joys to share.

II
There only needs deer feeding ’neath the trees 15
To make this wood all that my soul could wish;
And pleasant ’t is to watch the nimble fish
Rising i’ the clear Esk river. How the breeze
Comes wooingly to my parch’d hands and brow,
Fragrant with many perfumes! Wild rasps here 20
Offer their tempting fruit; so do not fear
Our out-door luncheon shall lack dessert too.
Here flowers of many sorts their petals show,
And various insects are upon the wing;
Sweetly the birds in Nature’s concert sing, 25
And here the wild-sage most delights to grow.
They who once ramble this delightful spot
Must find much beauty ne’er to be forgot.

III
In such a healthy district, public parks
Are quite unnecessary. In the crowded town, 30
Where love of Nature seems quite trampled down,
There they are needed; for the cheerful larks
Ne’er carol overhead; the thrushes’ songs
Salute us not; nor bees upon the wing;
Nor whins or broom or heather blossoming 35
Delight the eye. To all they here belong,
With many blessings, as we wander here.
Yea, ’t is a glorious privilege to roam
Among such scenes. For years I’ve loved to come
To breathe this unpolluted atmosphere: 40
And when my thoughts revert to all ’s good,
I often seem once more to roam in Arncliffe Wood.

George Markham Tweddell

* Beggar’s Bridge, called in a perambulation of 1776 by the name of “Ferris
Bridge,” after its founder, Thomas Ferries, who rose to be a wealthy and
benevolent Alderman of Hull. See The People’s History of Cleveland &c.

The Earl of Lennox at Whorlton Castle.

The Earl of Lennox at Whorlton Castle.

Base traitor to his country! This vile Earl
Did seek to desolate his native land,
When it our English Blackbeard did withstand;
Proving himself less noble than the churl
Who only sought to lead a quiet life. 5
Our Cleveland was dishonoured when its King
Gave Whorlton Castle to this worthless thing,
Granting his royal neice to him for wife.
Great, too, the error when the lovely Queen
Of Scots allow’d the exile to return 10
Unto the land which he had made to mourn
That such a traitor there had ever been.
Had men in Whorlton’s strongest donjon cell
Caged up the brute for life, it had been well.

George Markham Tweddell

"The castle was established in the early 12th century at the edge of Castle Bank, a ridge between the villages of Faceby and Swainby, overlooking a small valley through which the road between Thirsk and Stokesley runs. In the 13th century it was referred to variously as Hwernelton or Potto Castle (the village of Potto is part of the same parish). At the time of the Domesday Book, Whorlton was recorded as belonging to Robert, Count of Mortain, the half-brother of William the Conqueror. It subsequently passed to the de Meynell family, who founded the castle." More here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whorlton_Castle

William Fallows, J. P

William Fallows, J. P.

Born December 10th, 1797; Died August 14th, 1889.

FALLOWS, the Middlesbrough Patriarch, is dead,—
Not of disease, but gradual decay;
And “Father of the Tees” full well we may
Assign to him the title. His the head
That for so many years has ever led 5
All schemes for its improvement, until now,
At more than ninety years, we see him bow
In peace to travel, where all we must tread,
Through Death’s dark valley; brighten’d up to him
By a long life of usefulness: for he 10
Knew the best hopes of an eternity
Of happiness, is not a vision dim
If we whilst here exert all faculties
To make us worthy up to Heaven to rise.

George Markham Tweddell

William Fallows lived in Commercial Street, Middlesbrough which is where George Markham Tweddel set up as a printer in the 1860's before moving back to Stokelsey.

Carlton Bank

Carlton Bank












I
Wide is the prospect Carlton Bank commands
O’er Cleveland and o’er Mowbray’s fertile plains:
Gazing on such a sight the mind disdains
To be bound down by Superstition’s bands.
Yonder the towers of York and Ripon rear 5
Their hoary heads, and many a village spire;
Whilst groves and meads and cornfields never tire
The Poet’s eye; and brooks, as crystal clear,
And grand old Tees, meandering on their way
To yon sail-studded ocean. ’T is a sight 10
To fill the mind with rapturous delight.
Even the smoke that rises night and day,
From Cleveland’s Iron Industry, combines
To form a scene which pleases and refines.
II
Time was when Alum was the staple trade 15
Of Cleveland. At our feet appears to be
Some old volcano’s crater. Industry
Of Alum-workers’ muscles ’t was that made
That huge abyss,—the only monument
Remaining of their toil; but ’t will remain 20
Whilst Cleveland’s cornfields bear their golden grain,
Or meads with grass are green. Here have been bent
Hundreds of stalwart forms in honest toil—
Useful as honest! they have long since gone,
And flowers they loved in life now grow upon 25
Their quiet country graves: for let us moil
As much through life and ably as we may,
Like them, at last, we in the dust may lay.
III
As in a book, we here may records read
Of the far-distant Past; strata for leaves, 30
Fossils for hieroglyphics. He perceives
Relics of mighty changes who will heed
The structures of this mountain. On this brow
Still stand large Mare’s Tail water plants erect,
Though turn’d to stone.* No wise man will reject 35
The knowledge Science brings: she never bows
The mind to dogmas without proof, but shows
As we descend this hill, her oyster bed,
And cockles turn’d to stone, around us spread,
To prove that once the ocean’s water rose 40
O’er all the scene. How different since then—
The Pterodactyls giving place to Men!

IV
Mankind have progress’d, with slow march, but sure,
Since Cleveland’s Alum industry began
At yonder Highcliff, under that sage man— 45
One of an ancient race, brave, wise, and pure,
Who bore the honour’d name of CHALLONER.
Through all the district, Cleveland enterprise
Made Alum-works in quick succession rise,
A blessing on the country to confer, 50
Till foul Monopoly—ever a curse
To Commerce and to honest Industry—
Blighted their prospects: and when Liberty
Triumph’d at last in factory and in bourse,
The trade had gone: for driven once away, 55
Our Manufactures are exiled for aye.
V
Here now, where once the mountain was alive
With stalwart toilers, I can sit alone,
Musing on men and modes for ever gone.
Once Carlton Bank was a most busy hive, 60
With workmen for its bees: now all is still,
Save cuckoo’s call, the hum of bumble bee,
The thrush and linnet’s mingled minstrelsy,
And those glad songs the larks aboon me trill.
Though much reminds me of the past around, 65
The feathery steam, rising from the railroads near,
Recalls me to the Present. Some may jeer
At poet’s musings; but from this very ground,
Once busy, now so quiet, I can see
The harbingers of Good for Futurity. 70

George Markham Tweddell
* The Equisetum Columnare, fine specimens of which are
visible at the summit of Carlton Bank,—the plants and the mud
in which they grew alike turned to stone, and the roots a thin
streak of coal.

Alum Mining on Carlton Bank

Mr Charles Bell, of Redcar

Dedicated to my esteemed Companion in many
pleasant Cleveland Rambles,

Mr Charles Bell, of Redcar

CHARLES, we are dear old friends, who never had
One angry word or look to marr the bliss
Of our pure friendship; and the angry hiss
Of the old serpent, Hate, we know is bad
For us and all: we only hate what keeps 5
Mankind from truest manhood; and we would
Fain aid the culture of all that is good
For all our race. He that sows well ever reaps
A joyful harvest. In woodlands and green dales,
On the wide moors, and by the ocean’s shore, 10
Oft we have revell’d in the glorious lore
Of Nature and good books; for never fails
That which is beautiful and true to give
Peace, joy, and spiritual strength, to those who truly live.

George Markham Tweddell

Note (Ed) - As far as I can tell, Charles Bell of Redcar was a Draper of 107 High Street Redcar 1890 according to Bulmers North Yorkshire Directory for Redcar  http://www.genuki.org.uk/big/eng/YKS/NRY/Redcar/Redcar90Dry.html

On the London Gazette page 1882, there's a bankruptcy notice for a Charles Bell, draper of Middlesbrough and Redcar.http://www.london-gazette.co.uk/issues/25123/pages/3077/page.pdf

I'm not totally sure this is the same guy however.

Great Fryup

Great Fryup

Great Fryup Dale

Fryup, thy verdant valley is hemm’d in
With hills all round, that like firm sentinels stand
To shield thee from the intrusion on each hand.
Thine is a dale which should be free from sin:
Here all should feel as if one kith and kin; 5
And, though they e’er despise the folk beyond
Their narrow boundary, should be a bond
Of love be bound together, and thus win
Here that true happiness which can be found
Better than where mankind are closely pent 10
In smoky towns; for God has never meant
His creatures to eschew each sight and sound
Of rural life. We must obey His laws,
Or suffer numerous human woes.

George Markham Tweddell



Notes about Fryup
"is not a village but rather a community scattered across the two dells of Great and Little Fryupdale, which between them cover an area of about six square miles, to the west of Whitby. The land in Fryup lies between 450 and 1,000 ft above sea level and is bounded on three sides by Danby and Glaisdale High Moors and, to the north, by the valley of the Esk. Steep sided valley walls sweep down to narrow valley bottoms where flat fields are scarce and two becks empty into the river Esk. In this large area lives a small population thinly spread amongst isolated farmsteads and cottages.

Applegarth farm, Fryup

For several centuries Fryup was used by the lord of the manor at Danby Castle to graze his own stock and as a source of income by leasing grazing rights. Apart from this ranching the only other activity we have record of was quite extensive iron smelting in the 13th century and these operations are celebrated by names, still existing, such as Furnace Farm, Mine Pit and Cinder Hill. By the middle of the 17th century the Danby estate, then owned by the Danvers family, was sold to meet debts and that part of it containing Fryup was bought by the Dawnay family, later the Lords Downe. It was from this date, 1655, that the dale started to take on its present form with the former pasture land being enclosed and divided up into a number of tenant farms.

'What a peculiar name' is the reaction of many people on first hearing the name Fryup but it simply derives from Freya, a Norse Goddess and 'hop' being an enclosed valley.

The two dales of Fryup meet at Fairy Cross Plain and it was here that a public house and smithy stood. Its liquid offering must have been quite potent for, as the name implies, here dwelt fairies and trolls and the sound of their nocturnal buttermaking filled the night air. Although the pub has long been closed Fryup was, in living memory, a self-sufficient community having a school, a church, two chapels, two shops and with the services of a blacksmith, a tailor, a joiner and a stonesman all resident in the dale. But, as with many other rural communities, all have now been lost, with the Methodist chapel, one of the earliest in the area, being the last to close a few short years ago.

NB
The village information above is taken from the North Yorkshire Village Book, written by members of North Yorkshire Federation of Women's Institutes and published by Countryside Books. Click on the link below to view Countryside's range of other local titles."
Links
Countryside Books (via this site http://www.visitoruk.com/historydetail.php?id=24442&cid=592&f=Whitby

To James Whitaker A True “Guardian of the Poor,” Gisbrough

To James Whitaker
A True “Guardian of the Poor,” Gisbrough

Guisborough Workhouse

Friend, I have known thee long, but did not dream
Thy quiet, genial soul, was one that dare
To play the “village Hampden!” for few dare
To battle for the Poor: seldom a beam
Of the bright sun of Justice shines within 5
Our Poor Law Bastiles, where the Poor are pent
In horrible confinement; the intent
To punish Poverty, as a dire sin
Against the Mammon-worship of the age.
Alone, but manfully, thou stood for Right, 10
Remembering all thou did was in the sight
Of the All-Seeing Eye: and thus the rage
Of mis-call’d “Guardians of the Poor” with thee,
Fail’d to subdue thy sterling honesty.

George Markham Tweddell

http://knarf.english.upenn.edu/People/hampden.html
In reference to 'Village Hampton'

“The Three Sisters,” Ingleby-Greenhow

Hills and moors above Ingleby Greenhow

“The Three Sisters,” Ingleby-Greenhow

Three tiny streamlets, on the barren moor,
Were glittering ’neath the bright rays of the sun:
Pleasant it was to mark, where’er they run
Along the summit of the mountain hoar,
How beautiful rich mosses mark’d their way! 5
These steams united, and went trickling on
To add their waters to the neighb’ring burn,
Which help’d to feed a river, where you may
Float largest argosies; then to the sea,—
Again to float in mists unto the sky, 10
And fall in dew or rain,—mayhap to fly
In hail or snowflakes over hill or lea!
Nothing in nature e’er is lost!—shall we
Then doubt, in God’s good time, all will from pain be free?

George Markham Tweddell

To Sir Joseph Whitwell Pease, Bart, M.P.

To Sir Joseph Whitwell Pease, Bart, M.P.


In acknowledgement of a Present of choice Grapes, kindly sent
to the Author, from Hutton Hill, Gisbrough, when stricken
down with a severe illness.

Honour to Bacchus, planter of the vine!
The trailing plant is beautiful to see,
With its grand leaves, and fruit where symmetry,
Beauty, and usefulness all three combine.
Through a much-troubled life, it ne’er was mine
’Neath my “own vine and fig-tree” to repose;
Nor have I fortuned to be one of those
Daily familiar with choice grapes of wine:
But Israel’s spies on their staff never bore
To Moses the grand Grapes by Eschol grown,
With greater pleasure than I felt mine own,
When from the bunches sent I thankful tore
The luscious fruit, to cool my fever’d lips,
And fancied it would even Hebe’s cup eclipse.

George Markham Tweddell

Old Hutton Hall, Guisborough
From  http://guisboroughhistorynotes.blogspot.co.uk/