Ben Garside took to Methodism in his old age, and wore glossy black-cloth o' Sundays. But he always averred that he had fallen from his best ideals, and suffered the fear for his own soul to deaden his concern for the souls of others. He and Jack smoked many a pipe together in the calm summer months of peaceful and prosperous years, seated on the crumbling walls of Co-op. Mill, and mourning over a vanished dream.
The last sage dictum of Ben to be recorded in this narrative suggested its title. It was uttered on the eve of his friend's wedding.
"Aw reckon, Tom, as ha' tha'll be goin' to Aenon Chapel after tha'rt wed?"
"Why, doesn't ta see, tha'rt Dorothy's choice?"
As many of the readers of "Dorothy's Choice" may not be conversant with the facts upon which that story is based, and as those who are may wish to have in concise form a historical narrative of that great catastrophe the following account, taken from the author's "History of Huddersfield and Its Vicinity," is appended:-- "The Bilberry Reservoir is situated at the head of a narrow gorge or glen, leading from the Holme Valley, at Holme Bridge, to a high bluff of land called Good Bent, and was supplied by two streams flowing through the cloughs running to the north-east and south-east of Good Bent, and draining the Moors of Holme Moss on the one side and the hills running up to Saddleworth on the other, including some thousands of acres of moorland. The confluence of the streams takes place between two large hills, called Hoobrook Hill and Lum Bank, and which run parallel to each other for a distance of about one hundred and fifty yards, when they open out and form an extensive oval basin of not less than three hundred yards diameter. The reservoir formed by blocking up the valley below the basin enclosing some twelve acres of surface. It was defective in its original construction, and was for a long time known to be in a most dangerous condition. At the time when the embankment gave way the quantity of water in the reservoir would not be less than eighty-six million two hundred and forty-eight thousand gallons or the enormous and fearful amount of three hundred thousand tons in weight. It burst a little before one o'clock in the morning of February 5th, 1852. The moon shone bright over the varied and romantic landscape; the streamlets swollen by recent heavy rains, filled the river to its banks; the industrious population were recruiting their wasted energies by sleep, when all at once, in a moment, the ponderous embankment was carried away by the force and weight of the pent-up waters, and desolation, ruin, and death overspread the rich and fertile valley for miles around. Trees were torn up by the roots and hurried onwards by the rush of waters, roaring with renewed fury as they swept each successive obstruction. The death-shrieks of scores were hushed as the flood passed forwards to new scenes of destruction and death, leaving in its track ponderous pieces of rock weighing many tons; the dead carcases of horses, cows, goats, and other cattle; here and there broken machinery, bags of wool, carding machines, dye pans, steam engine boilers, timber, spars, looms, furniture, and every variety of wreck. It would seem as if the whole body of accumulated waters had tumbled down the valley together, sweeping all before them, throwing a four-storey mill down like a thing of nought, tossing steam engine boilers about like feathers, and carrying death and destruction in their progress. In consequence of the narrowness between the mountain bluffs on either side, a vast volume of water was kept together, which spent its force upon Holmfirth, where the mass of houses, shops, mills, warehouses, and other buildings was expected to present a formidable barrier to its further progress. The check, however, was but momentary for the flood, with the mass of floating wreck which it carried in its bosom, shot through buildings, gutted some, and tumbled others down, until it found a further outlet and passed on, doing more or less damage lower down the valley at Thongs Bridge, Honley, and Armitage Bridge. After passing the last place mentioned the flood got more into the open country spreading itself out in the fields, and swelling the river down below Huddersfield. Much might be written on the details and incidents connected with the catastrophe. A few of the most striking may be mentioned. A few hundred yards below the reservoir stood a small building two storeys high called Bilberry Mill, the occupation of Joseph Broadhead, and used as a scribbling and dressing mill. The end of the mill was caught by the sudden swell, and about ten feet in length and its gable were washed down the valley.
