DCF 1.0

More than an hour slipped away while I lounged and
loitered, making the round of the summit again and again, till
it seemed that the landscape had become familiar to me.
Then the solitude was broken by the arrival of strangers, who
came scrambling up the hill, encouraging one another, with
cheerful voices. They gained the rocks at last, panting ; two
families from Middlesborough, husbands, wives, boys and girls,
and a baby, with plenty to eat and drink in their baskets,
come from the murky town to pass the Sunday on the breezy
hill-top. How they enjoyed the pure air and the wide
prospect ; and how they wondered to find room for a camp-
meeting on a summit which, from their homes, looked as if it
were only a blunt point ! They told me that a trip to
Rosebury Topping was an especial recreation for the people of
Middlesborough — a town which, by the way, is built on a
swampy site, where the only redeeming feature is ready access
to a navigable river. I remember what it was before the
houses were built. A drearier spot could not be imagined :
one of those places which, as Punch says, ” you want never to
hear of, and hope never to see.”

” ‘Tis frightful to see how fast the graves do grow up in the
new cemetery,” said one of the women, whose glad surprise
at the contrast between her home and her holiday could hardly
express itself in words. ” It can’t be a healthy place to bring
up a family in. That’s where we live, is it — down there,
under all that smoke ? Ah ! if we could only come up here
every day ! ”

A Month in Yorkshire

Walter White


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