Mexborough & Swinton Times – Saturday 04 June 1904
A rather cruel joke, and yet one with some element of humour, has been played on my friend Mr. Thomas Weston, of Denaby. Some modern disciple of Theodore Hook has put in circulation a story that Mr. Weston was anxious to adopt a baby boy, and was willing to pay the parents of the child £300 for the surrender of all their rights in the selected bairn. The story has actually received credence, and no fewer than five applications have been made to Mr. Weston, in a week, by parents who were willing to dispose of their offspring, and anxious to receive £300. The people ready to make this sacrifice live at Mexboro’, Swinton, Wath, and Wakefield, and one of them, I am told, actually cycled over to Denaby as soon as he heard the story, to offer one of his superfluous youngsters.
<p>The cruelty of the jest, of course, lies in the fact that not very long ago Mr. and Mrs. Weston suffered a bereavement from which they have not yet recovered. But for that I could myself laugh at the joke, for it is absurd to find people believing such a ridiculous tale, and bombarding my embarrassed friend with offers to set him up—at his time of life—with a young family. The genius of the joke lies in the fact that the joker has credited Mr. Weston with a desire to pay £300 for a child, while he lives at Denaby, where I should fancy it would be easy to adopt a houseful of children with the gratuitous consent of their parents.
A rather cruel joke, and yet one with some element of humour, has been played on my friend Mr. Thomas Weston, of Denaby. Some modern disciple of Theodore Hook has put in circulation a story that Mr. Weston was anxious to adopt a baby boy, and was willing to pay the parents of the child £300 for the surrender of all their rights in the selected bairn. The story has actually received credence, and no fewer than five applications have been made to Mr. Weston, in a week, by parents who were willing to dispose of their offspring, and anxious to receive £300. The people ready to make this sacrifice live at Mexboro’, Swinton, Wath, and Wakefield, and one of them, I am told, actually cycled over to Denaby as soon as he heard the story, to offer one of his superfluous youngsters.
The cruelty of the jest, of course, lies in the fact that not very long ago Mr. and Mrs. Weston suffered a bereavement from which they have not yet recovered. But for that I could myself laugh at the joke, for it is absurd to find people believing such a ridiculous tale, and bombarding my embarrassed friend with offers to set him up—at his time of life—with a young family. The genius of the joke lies in the fact that the joker has credited Mr. Weston with a desire to pay £300 for a child, while he lives at Denaby, where I should fancy it would be easy to adopt a houseful of children with the gratuitous consent of their parents.
I need hardly say my friend Weston does not want to adopt a child, and parents who have more bairns than “brass” who may hereafter hear the practical joker’s story will save themselves a disappointment if they do not begin to build castles in the air on the foundation of that three hundred pounds.
<p>I need hardly say my friend Weston does not want to adopt a child, and parents who have more bairns than “brass” who may hereafter hear the practical joker’s story will save themselves a disappointment if they do not begin to build castles in the air on the foundation of that three hundred pounds.