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PostPosted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 2:11 pm 
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Location: Staffordshire
Manchester Times

Friday 21 October 1898

The Children's Hour
Conducted by
Uncle Oldman

49 Queen Victoria-road, Burnley

Dear Uncle Oldman,- In my letter this month I wish to describe a walk which I and my father took a few mornings ago. The sun shone brightly in a blue sky when we left home, but it was rather cold. Two minutes' brisk walking soon warmed us, however, and the town was left quite behind. A stranger to the place would have thought we were miles away from the great hive of industry, smoky Burnley. We went down by Pheasant Ford, past the new bridge which is being built across the stream. Then we followed the course of the brook, now and again stopping to look for fishes in the clear water. Each bank of the stream is well wooded for some distance, and the road leads upwards towards the ancient village of Worsthorne, and the heather-clad hills lying beyond. Many of the trees are looking bare, and the falls leaves are blowing about and make a carpet in varying shades of red, yellow, and brown. As we were along my father pointed out the peculiarities to be noticed in the different kinds of trees, and showed how we might know them even when they had lost the leaves, from the manner in which they carried their branches, the texture of their bark, &c. I also noticed that whilst the beech and sycamore trees were almost bare of leaves, except in very sheltered places the ash trees were looking their best, and the beautiful green of their leaves was very striking amid their brown surroundings. The flowers, which a few weeks ago gave such pleasing appearance to the hedgerows and fields, have gone to sleep till the voice of the cuckoo bids them rise again. We only saw a few flowers of the dandelion and buttercup, and just two daisies. Once we turned aside to look at a pond lying in a little sheltered wood. Here we saw a good many specimens of the red campion, half hidden amongst the great leaves of the butter-bur, which fringed the edge of the water. The song birds, too, were almost all silent. Many of them have fled before the coming winter to sunnier scenes. But the dear little robin still remains to cheer us with his song. We stood a short time on a ride bridge that crosses the stream listening to one singing his little hymn over and over again. The trees stood so still and ? that they seemed to be listening too, and the water under us bubbled as if with joy. We went on again until we came to a cluster of houses called Brownside. We looked for Brownside fairies, which some people say used to be plentiful about there in the old times, but we did not see any. There is a weaving mill lying down in the hollow, and father said perhaps this had frightened them away. But I saw something here which pleased me as much as if I had seen the fairies. Paddling about in the water under a bridge were five little ducklings. They only seemed a few days old, but they were splashing and swimming about in the water as only a duck knows how. From here we took the road towards Worsthorne, but turned aside before we got to the village along a bye-path past the reservoirs at Hecknest, and so on through field and lane until we arrived once more at "Home, sweet home" - rather tired but feeling very happy, and I hope better, for our autumn walk. So now give my love to Laughaway, Aunt Mary, and not forgetting yourself. I remain, your loving niece, HANNAH E. CARTWRIGHT

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PostPosted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 2:12 pm 
Spider Lady
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This is Hannah and family in 1901

RG13/3865 folio 143 pg 38

49 Queen Victoria Rd Burnley

James Cartwright Head M 43 Cotton weaver b. Yorks, Brighouse
Mary Cartwright wife M 44 Dressmaker b. Lancs, Bacup
Hannah E Cartwright Dau S 15 b. Lancs, Burnley
John H. Stephens Boarder S 16 Cotton weaver b. Cornwall N.K.

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PostPosted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 2:46 pm 
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That was lovely.

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PostPosted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 4:32 pm 
Spider Lady
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Could you imagine a 12 year old of today being so descriptive and using such vocabulary?

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PostPosted: Sun Nov 01, 2009 4:51 pm 
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Honestly--there would be very few I could name.

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