I just came across a romantic look at Wednesbury in the 1800’s.
WEDNESBURY HALL, the old Manor House, stood on the northern declivity of the hill, close to the Church.
It was once known as Mason’s Hall, because around the 1800’s a farmer of that name lived there.
The neighbourhood in those days was a pleasant one.
In the road below the Hall was a pond where the people of that end of the town drove their horses and cattle to water.
And nearby in a little grassy recess, was a public well.
This was said to be half-hidden by the tall hawthorn hedges which enclosed it on three of its sides in the summer time.
On the other side of the lane, the Old Park stretched away towards Darlaston, and Falling’s Heath, and although the iron and coal industries had long since destroyed it’s real beauty, it is described as being “a pleasant place”.
There were wild strawberries to be gathered, where the underwood still lingered in profusion, and wild thyme and wood-sage could be gathered there.
The Hall was a rectangular red-brick building in the Tudor style, the porch, which looked towards the west, had a stone seat on each side, while the capacious fire-place and yawning chimney of the kitchen were remarkable features of the house.
But when it was the property of Mr. J. E. Sheldon, he had been compelled to take down nearly the whole of its tottering walls, the stone foundations exposed to view, and the standing fragment of masonry two feet four inches in thickness, sufficiently indicate its original strength.
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Can you imagine it now: Walking down the lane to collect wild strawberries, wild Thyme and wood sage.
With your little “School cooking basket” swinging gently on your arm as you bent to smell the perfume of wild flowers.
Then along comes Farmer Mason, clip clopping down the pebbled street to water his horse at the nearby pond.
With a little wave and a tip of his hat as he passes by.
Oooh … My word …You are startled by a rabbit as it jumps out of the nearby hawthorn bush …. oh you gave me a fright you say, with hand held tightly against your heaving bosom.
Oh, okay, I was getting a little carried away then …. 🙂