From this newspaper 50 years ago (July 24, 1965)

AFTER a soaking at the Great Yorkshire Show, columnist Gordon Currie opened his page with a ditty:

Dirty days hath September,

April, June and November,

From January to May

The rain it raineth every day.

All the rest have thirty-one

Without a blessed gleam of sun,

And if any of them had two-and-thirty

They'd be just as wet and twice as dirty

Mr Currie wrote: “After a week in which fine weather for the opening of the great Yorkshire show has ceased to be tradition any longer, but much more akin to a worn out myth, we find ourselves almost believing that there may be some truth in the depressing circumstance written about by an American satirist. “Although the summer has so far failed to break any rainfall records in this district, it already ranks as one of the highest in public disrepute, especially where the farmer is concerned.

“I can scarcely remember such a slow, cloudy, clouty haytime as the first half of July has produced.”

Another columnist, Doreen Binks, had also been to the sodden show. “Grey skies, grim reminders of the falling profits to be made from farming, and drab Macintoshes might have shed an air of gloom, but no one seemed to pay much attention,” she said.

In fact, she overhead a barley farmer saying how difficult it was to keep a crop properly watered. He said: “Give it ower much and it gans down. If it doesn't gan down, then you think you haven't given it plenty. It's a gamble whichever way you look at it...”

From this newspaper 100 years ago (July 24, 1915)

A letter headed “Fund for necessitous Yorkshire ladies resident in London” was published, appealing for help for Yorkshire women who were struggling to make ends meet in the city.

It said: “Much generous and self sacrificing help is being given to other war charities to meet the need this awful war has involved while the poor ladies are likely to be overlooked.

“And yet no class has suffered so pitifully in the war as that of the poorer gentry through loss of work, and therefore of money.

“May I be allowed to appeal, then, for help to send away to the sea or countryside for a little change, governesses, hospital nurses, typists, secretaries, clerks, musicians, actresses, and ladies of gentle birth engaged in other professions who, without the possibility of earning in the summer months, are left in the city exposed to the sufferings attendant on poverty. “In some cases, the poor ladies are quite behind a holiday. For these, I might supply relief in the form of food, medicine or clothing.

“I plead then for those our unfortunate sisters, for the sick, the elderly and the broken.

“All contributions sent to me will be gratefully acknowledged and distributed among Yorkshire ladies resident in London.

“I am sir, yours truly, Constance Beerbohm, 48 Upper Berkeley Street, London.”

From this newspaper 150 years ago (July 22, 1865)

AS we have seen in recent weeks, the 1865 North Riding election had been poisonously personal between the two sitting Tory MPs – William Duncombe of Helmsley and William Morritt of Rokeby – and the Liberal challenger, Frederick Milbank of Barningham. Part of the friction was caused by Mr Morritt defeating Mr Milbank at a by-election in 1862.

The candidates gathered in front of 8,000 voters in the Castle Yard at York for what was expected to be the last event of the campaign, but it descended into confusion. Mr Milbank had been caught canvassing the tenants of Lord Wharncliffe, a former Tory MP, at Hawes. Mr Milbank said that Lord Wharncliffe had given him permission in a conversation at York racecourse in 1864, but at an earlier rally in Stockton, Mr Morritt had read a letter from his lordship denying he had spoken to Mr Milbank since 1862.

Mr Morritt had then said: “Lies are like chickens, as soon as they are hatched, they are let out, but they always come back to roost.”

Angered, Mr Milbank roared: “That in plain broad English, is calling me a direct liar.” He demanded that Mr Morritt produce the offending letter, but in “a scene of confusion and uproar” he said he had left at his hotel.

Mrs Morritt was sent to the hotel to fetch it, and when she returned, the epistle confirmed that Lord Wharncliffe claimed not to have spoken to Mr Milbank for three years – much to Mr Milbank’s outrage because he recalled their exchange at the steeplechase.

Amid the hubbub, the High Sheriff called for a show of hands. As expected, Mr Milbank topped the poll, but the High Sheriff was unable to judge which of the Tories was elected as the second MP. He therefore ordered a secret ballot should take place the following day. Mr Milbank dashed off to start libel proceedings, and the county held its breath...