Northumberland Yesterday And To Day by Jean F. Terry (best novel books to read .txt) 📕

Was Launched On The Tyne And Named After The River; And The First

Volunteer Life Brigade Was Formed At Tynemouth. The Worth Eastern

Railway Is Carried Across The Tyne By The Scotswood Bridge; And It Was

On This Part Of The River That The Boat-Races, For Which The Tyne Was

Once Famous, Were Rowed. At Newcastle, The River Is Bridged By Four Huge

Structures--The Redheugh Bridge, The New King Edward Vii. Bridge, The

High Level, And Swing Bridges,--All Connecting Newcastle With The Sister

Town Of Gateshead. An Interesting Sight It Is To See The Swing Bridge

Gradually Turning On Its Central Pivot, Until It Lies In A Straight Line

Up And Down The Stream, Allowing Some Huge Liner To Pass, Or Some New

Battleship, Fresh From Elswick, To Sail Down The River, On Its Way To

Make Its Trial Trip Over The "Measured Mile" In The Open Sea At The

Mouth Of The River, And Thereafter To Take Its Place Among The Armaments

Of The Nations.

The High Level Bridge Allows Ships Of Any Height To Pass Under Its Lofty

And Graceful Arches, Which Look So Light, But Are Yet So Strong. This

Splendid Bridge Is An Enduring Monument Of Robert Stephenson, Whose Work

It Was; And The Story Of Its Erection, At The Cost Of Nearly Half A

Million Of Money, Makes Most Interesting Reading. It Took Nearly Two And

A Half Years To Build, And Was Opened For Traffic In 1849--Little More

Than Three Years After The First Pile Was Driven In. A Few Months Later,

In 1850, The Newly Built Central Station, With Its Imposing Portico, Was

Opened By Queen Victoria.

Passing Down The Tyne From Newcastle, Which Requires Separate Notice,

And Walker, With Its Reminiscences Of "Walker Pit's Deun Weel For Me,"

We Arrive At Wallsend, Which In Twenty-Five Years Has Grown From A

Colliery Village With A Population Of 4,000 To A Town Of 23,000

Inhabitants. Here Are Great Shipbuilding And Repairing Yards, Chemical

Works And Cement Works; Here, Too, Are Parsons' Steam Turbine Works,

Where Was Designed And Built The Little "Turbinia," On Which Tiny Vessel

The Early Experiments Were Made With The New Engines; And Here Are The

Famous Mines Which Have Made "Best Wallsend" A Synonym For Best

Household Coal All Over The Land. These Mines, After Having Been Closed

For Many Years, Were Reopened At The Beginning Of The Century, And Now

Turn Out Upwards Of One Thousand Tons Of Coal Per Day.

The Church Of St. Peter, At Wallsend, Is Little More Than A Hundred

Years Old; The Old Church Of Holy Cross, Now Long Disused, Was Built

Towards The End Of The Twelfth Century. But Wallsend Itself, As All The

World Knows, Is Of Much Greater Antiquity, For Was It Not, As Its Name

Proclaims, Situated At The End Of The Great Wall? Its Name Then,

However, Was Not Wallsend But Segedunum.

Willington Quay, Further Down The River, Was, For A Time, The Home Of

George Stephenson, And Here His Son, Robert, Was Born. At Howdon, Which

Used To Be Known As Howdon Pans, From The Salt-Pans There, The Painter

John Martin And His Brothers Once Worked When Boys, Being Employed In

Some Rope-Works. Here, Too, The Henzells, A Family Of Refugees Who

Settled In The District In The Days Of Elizabeth, Founded Some Glass

Works, For Which Industry The Tyne Has Been Famous From That Day To

This.

Before The Railway On The South Side Of The River Was Laid Down,

Passengers Who Wished To Reach Jarrow Had To Alight At Howdon And Cross

The River; And A Racy Dialect Song--"Howdon For Jarrow" With Its Refrain

Of "Howdon For Jarra--Ma Hinnies, Loup Oot"--Commemorates The Fact.

Willington Quay And Howdon Carry On The Line Of Shipbuilding Yards To

Northumberland Dock And The Staithes Of The Tyne Commissioners, Where

The Waggon Ways From Various Collieries Bring The Coal To The Water's

Edge. Tyne Dock, Just Opposite, And The Albert Edward Dock Near North.

Shields, Provide Abundance Of Shipping Accommodation, Besides What Is

Afforded By The River Itself; And Now The River Flows Between The Steep

Banks Of North And South Shields. As The Names Declare, These Two

Growing And Prosperous Towns Once Consisted Of A Few Fishermen's Huts,

Or "Shielings"; But That Was Long Ago, When The North Shore Of The Tyne

Was Owned By The Prior Of Tynemouth, And The Southern Shore By The

Bishop Of Durham, And The Citizens Of Newcastle Complained To King

Edward I. That These Two Ecclesiastics Had Raised Towns, "Where No Town

Ought To Be," And That "Fishermen Sold Fish There Which Ought To Be Sold

At Newcastle, To The Great Injury Of The Whole Borough, And In Detriment

To The Tolls Of Our Lord The King." These Quarrels Between Newcastle And

The Other Settlements On The Tyne Continued With Varying Results, Until

In The Days Of Cromwell, Ralph Gardiner Of Chirton, A Little Village

Close To North Shields, Took Up The Cudgels For The Growing Towns; And

By Dint Of Great Perseverance, And In Spite Of Much Persecution And

Ill-Will, Succeeded In Getting Most Of The Unjust Privileges Of Their

Stronger Neighbour Abolished.

There Were Salt-Pans, Too, On Both Sides Of The Mouth Of The Tyne, Which

Were Worked In Connection With The Monasteries From Very Early Days; And

Daniel Defoe, When He Visited The North In 1726, Declared That He Could

See From The Top Of The Cheviot "The Smoke Of The Salt-Pans At Sheals,

At The Mouth Of The Tyne, Which Was About Forty Miles South Of This."

North Shields Clings Haphazard To The Steep Bank Of The Tyne, And

Spreads Away Up And Beyond It, Reaching Out Towards Wallsend On The

River Shore And Tynemouth Along By The Sea, The Older Parts By The

River Looking Black And Grimy To The Last Degree; But There Is A Silver

Lining To This Very Black Cloud--Not Visible, It Is True, But Distinctly

Audible--In The Great Shipbuilding And Repairing Works Known As Smith's

Dock, One Of The Largest Concerns Of The Kind In Great Britain, Where So

Many Hundreds Of Men Earn Their Daily Bread; And In The Fishing

Industry, Which Was The Foundation Of The Town's Prosperity, And Bids

Fair To Be So For Many Years To Come, As It Is Increasing Year By Year.

The Fish Quay At North Shields Is A Sight Worth Seeing; And, In The

Herring Season, It Is Increasingly Frequented By Continental Buyers.

The Fortunes Of South Shields And Jarrow, Though These Towns Are Not In

Northumberland, Are Yet So Bound Up With The Story Of The Tyne That No

One Would Ever Think Of That River Without Them. Especially Is This The

Case With Jarrow, Which "Palmer's" Has Raised From A Small Colliery

Village To A Large And Flourishing Town. In Those Famous Yards,

Everything That Is Necessary For The Building Of The Largest Ironclad,

From The First Smelting Of The Ore Until The Last Rivet Is In Place, Can

Be Done. All Northumbria--Northumbria In The Ancient And Widest Sense

Of The Word--Owes A Debt Of Gratitude To Jarrow, For Was It Not The Home

Of Bede? The Monk Of Jarrow, Who Spent All His Long Life In The Same

Monastery By The Don, Coming To It When He Was A Child Of Ten, Made That

Spot Of Northumbrian Ground Famed To The Farthest Limits Of The

Civilized Europe Of His Day; And Scholars From All Over The Continent

Came To Learn At The Feet Of The Northumbrian Teacher. Beloved And

Revered By All, And In Harness To The Last Hour Of His Busy Life, He

Died In The Year 735, Just One Hundred Years After The Coming Of Aidan

To Lindisfarne. "First Among English Scholars, First Among English

Theologians, First Among English Historians, It Is In The Monk Of

Jarrow That English Literature Strikes Its Roots."--_J.R. Green_.

The Jarrow Of To-Day, And All Its Neighbours Of Industrial Tyneside,

Possess No Beauty Of Aspect Such As The Towns That Are More Fortunately

Situated On The Upper Reaches Of The River; They Are Muffled In Clouds

Of Smoke And Soot, And Darkened By The Necessities Of Their Toil In

Grimy Ores And The Ever-Present Coal. But No One Who Has Ever Looked On

These Smoky Reaches Of The Tyne With A Seeing Eye, Or Steamed Down The

River On A Day Either Of Gloom Or Sunshine, Can Refuse To Acknowledge

That It Has A Certain Grandeur, A Stern Beauty Of Its Own, That Can Stir

The Heart And The Imagination More Deeply Than Any Mere Prettiness.

From The Numberless Hives Of Activity On Both Sides Of The River Clouds

Of Smoke Roll Heavily Upward, And Jets Of Steam From Panting Machinery

Leap Up In Momentary Whiteness On The Dark Background; The White Wings

Of Flocks Of Wheeling Gulls Flash In The Occasional Sunshine Which

Lights Up The Scene, And Between The Clouds There Are Glimpses Of Blue

Sky. Towards Sunset, The Evening Mists Drape The Darkening Banks And

Crowded Shipping In A Soft Robe Of Gray, Which, Together With The

Glowing Sky Behind, Produces Most Wonderful Turneresque Effects; And The

Fall Of Night On The River Only Changes The Aspect Without Diminishing

The Interest Of The Scene. The Blaze From A Myriad Workshops And Forges

Glows Against The Darkness, The Lamps Twinkle Overhead On The Steep

Banks, And The Lights From Wharf And Steamer Are Reflected In A Thousand

Shimmering Lines On The Dark Water, Which Flows On Soundlessly, Like The

River Of A Dream.

On A Day Of Wind And Sun All These Beauties Are Intensified A

Thousandfold; The Smoke Is Blown Hither And Thither In Flying Clouds,

The Current Seems To Rush More Swiftly, And A Sense Of Vigorous Life

Permeates The Whole Scene, Giving To The Beholder A Feeling Of Keen

Exhilaration, As Of New Life Rushing Through His Veins. Especially Is

This The Case On Reaching The Mouth Of The River And Meeting The Dancing

Waters Of The Open Harbour, Where The Twin Piers Of South Shields And

Tynemouth Reach Out Sheltering Arms. Within The Wide Bay They Enclose,

The Storm-Driven Vessel May Always Find Comparatively Smooth Water, How

Wildly Soever The Waves May Rage And Roar Outside.

It Is Difficult To Believe That So Lately As The Years 1858-60, The

"Bar" At The Mouth Of The Tyne Was An Insuperable Obstacle To All But

Vessels Of Very Moderate Draught; And That Ships Might Lie For Days, And

Sometimes Weeks, After Being Loaded, Before There Came A Tide High

Enough To Carry Them Out To Sea. The River Was Full Of Sand-Banks, And

Little Islands Stood Here And There--One In Mid-Stream, Where The

Ironclads Are Now Launched At Elswick. Three Or Four Vessels Might Be

Seen At Once Bumping And Grounding On The "Bar" Unable To Make Their Way

Over. Well Might The Old Song Say--

  "The Ships Are All At The Bar,

  They Canna Get Up To Newcastle!"

An Old Map Of The Tyne Shows A Number Of Sand-Banks Down The Lower

Reaches Of The River, With Ships Aground On Each, Of Them.

But The River Tyne Commissioners Have Changed All That, And Their

Implement Of Warfare Has Been The Hideous But Necessary Dredger. No

Longer Need Vessels Of Heavy Tonnage Desert The Tyne For The Wear, As

They Were Perforce Driven To Do During The First Half Of The Nineteenth

Century, For The Wearsiders Had Set About Deepening And Widening Their

River Long Before The Tynesiders Did The Same By Theirs. Considerable

And Continuous Pressure Had To Be Brought To Bear On The Civic

Authorities At Newcastle Before They Finally Took Action; But Having

Once Done So, The Future Of The Tyne Was Assured. Now It Ranks Second

Only To The Thames In The Actual Number Of Vessels Entering And Leaving,

And Owns Only The Mersey Its Superior In The Matter Of Tonnage.

The Outward Signs Of "By-Gone Days," In The Newcastle Of To-Day, With

The One Notable Exception Of The Castle, Must Be Diligently Sought Out

Amongst The Overwhelming Mass Of What Is Often Called "Rampant

Modernity," Of Which The Town To-Day Chiefly Consists. The Modernity,

However, Is Not All Bad, As This