We can people the scene with the quaint costumes of
the eighteenth century; knee-breeches and long waistcoats are to be seen
in every direction, the three-cornered hat and the wig tied with a black
ribbon are worn by the better classes. The wives and daughters of the
squires and lesser gentry reflect in a modified form the fashions
prevailing in London, and to be observed in actuality among the gay crowds
that thronged the Spa at Scarborough, assuming and discarding the
hooped-petticoat according to the mode of the moment. We can see the
farmers of the Vale and those from the lonely dales discussing the news of
the week and reading the scarce and expensive newspapers that found their
way to Pickering. How much they understood of the reasons for the great
European wars and alliances it is not easy to say, but when the reports
came of victories to the British armies, assisted although they may have
been by paid allies, the patriotic feelings of these Yorkshiremen did not
fail to manifest themselves in a heavier consumption of beer than usual.
We can hear the chink of glasses and the rattle of pewter tankards in the
cosy parlours of the "White Swan," the "George," and the rest; we can hear
as the years go by the loud cheers raised for Marlborough, for Wolfe, for
Nelson, or for Wellington, while overhead the church bells are ringing
loudly in the old grey tower. These were the days of the highwaymen, and
even as late as 1830 a postman was robbed near the moorland village of
Lockton, on his way to Whitby.
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