go and peep through the window at this freak of nature--for I can
scarcely call it anything else. Then, while I was a lad, we had such a
thing as a hermit in Holme (House) Wood. The name of this hermit I used
to be told was "Lucky Luke." For a score of years did "Luke" live in
Holme Wood. I remember my mother giving the old man his breakfast when he
used to call at our house. His personal appearance frightened me very
much. He wore the whole of his beard, which was of iron-grey colour and
reached down to his waist. His garb was composed of rags, tied to his
body by the free use of rope. He once told my mother that he had more
than once changed clothes with a scarecrow. Sometimes this queer person
would never be seen by mortal man for months together, unless it were
that I disturbed his solitude occasionally; but then, of course, I was
only a boy. "Luke" had a bad name amongst us lads. I know people couldn't
fairly make out where he lived; he was wonderfully "lucky," and no doubt
he had a comfortable lair somewhere among the rocks and caves. Still the
fact remains that farmers often found occasion to complain of pillaging
being carried on by night in their gardens and turnip fields. This seems
indisputable proof that "Luke" was a vegetarian--maybe, such a one as the
Keighley Vegetarian Society might be glad to get hold of! Old Job Senior
was not a vegetarian; he went in for a higher art--music. It used to be
the boast of the Rombald's Moor hermit that he had been a splendid singer
in his day--could sing in any voice. Job frequently came as far as
Keighley and tried to earn "a' honest penny" by singing in the streets.
His legs were encased in straw and ropes, and although at times I own I'm
rather backward incoming forward, I hasten to say that Job's "outer man
and appendages" charmed more people than his singing did. But, then,
"it's all in a life-time."

THE POET'S "PRENTICE HAND"

During my sojourn at Wheat-head Farm I took a fancy to trying my
"prentice hand" at writing poetry. I got a little encouragement in this
at home. My father held singing classes, and gentlemen from the
neighbourhood used to meet at our house to have their "lessons." I
remember that the present Mr. Lund, of Malsis Hall, was one of my
father's principal pupils. Some very good "talent" was turned out in the
way of glee parties particularly, and just before Christmas my father
used to be very busy training singers for carolling. I often wrot