The Lore of Lindholme
Scientific Society’s Visit

Despite the weather, last Saturday’s outing of the Doncaster Scientific Society to Lindholme was one of the happiest and most interesting of the summer series. A party of nearly twenty drove by coach, and in defiance of the rain half-a-dozen or so went by cycle. Undoubtedly more would have gone awheel, but the tremendous rainbust between one and two o’clock checked the enthusiasm of all but a very few to whom the discomforts oa a sloppy road are a mere incident of no particular moment.

As soon as Sandall was passed it was seen that there had been no rain. The road was hard and dry, and a few on the coach who had abandoned the cycle trip at the last moment, were full of regrets at the opportunity they had missed of a spanking run with the wind behind them. But later, their hearts rose with thankfulness, for a second downpour came on about going home time, and while the cyclist had to face it and a head wind as well, the coach party were dry and snug in their sheltered seats.

The outing to Lindholme was planned by Mr. Greenslade, the secretary, on the invitation of Messrs. J. Dawson and Sons, who act as agents for the estate. Lindholme is a piece of territory quite alien to the surrounding country, as it was spatchcocked into a neighbourhood with which it seems to have no community of interest. It is an estate five or six miles broad, owned by Lord Allerton and Sir John Birken, and the greater part of it is moorland, with a piece of cleared and cultivated land in the centre, in which stands the ancient Hall. It has been a residence for centuries, and probably some sort of a monastery
or hermitage, and tradition and folk lore tell quaint stories of a former owner known as “Lindholme Billy.”

Peat is cut and marketed on an extensive scale, but for the rest of the estate is, to all intents and purposes, uncultivated, and it is the home of more rare beasts and birds than could be found collected in any similar area in any part of the country. The viper is particularly common, and as it is the only poisonous snake we have in this kingdom considerable interest is taken in it – although that did not deter young Mr. Dawson once shooting three in ten minutes on the principle, as the American said of the Indians, that the only good snake is a dead snake.

The estate lies beyond Hatfield Woodhouse, off the beaten track, quite isolated, and its extent may be gauged from the fact that after leaving the highway the party drove for two miles down a private road before they reached the clearing in which the Hall stands. Thet were welcomed by Mr. Dawson and his daughter, Mrs. Pye, and after a ramble on the peat lands they had tea on the lawn. Then there was a bit of speech making, during which thanks were expressed to Mr. W. Dawson, who had acted as cicerone, to Mrs. Pye, and to Mr. Greenslade. After replying, Mr. Greenslade read an interesting paper on Lindholme.

Following upon this there was a further ramble, this time through the woods, when many strange birds were put up, and after this it was time to make the journey home. It was a happy feature of the day that the rain kept off until time for leaving for Doncaster, and it didn’t matter much then – except for the cyclists, who, however, had plenty of sympathy to sweeten their unfortunate lot.