There is no part of England where, until lately, there have been so
many poor men's pianos, which have been purchased by a long course
of careful savings from the workman's wages. These, of course, have
mostly been sold during the hard times to keep life in the owner and
his family. The great works of Handel, Haydn, Beethoven, and Mozart
have solaced the toil of thousands of the poorest working people of
Lancashire. Anybody accustomed to wander among the moorlands of the
country will remember how common it is to hear the people practising
sacred music in their lonely cottages. It is not uncommon to meet
working men wandering over the wild hills, "where whip and heather
grow," with their musical instruments, to take part in some village
oratorio many miles away. "That reminds me," as tale-tellers say, of
an incident among the hills, which was interesting, though far from
singular in my experience.
Up in the forest of Rosendale, between Derply Moor and the wild bill
called Swinshaw, there is a little lone valley, a green cup in the
mountains, called "Dean." The inhabitants of this valley are so
notable for their love of music, that they are known all through the
vales of Rosendale as "Th' Deighn Layrocks," or "The Larks of Dean.
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