Extending Students’ Skills and Knowledge to Outdoor Pursuits

Keyword(s):  
1966 ◽  
Vol 12 ◽  
pp. 250-258 ◽  

Ronald George Hatton was a distinguished pomologist, an able administrator and a man who won the affection and esteem of his friends and colleagues alike. Ronald was born on 6 July 1886, in Yorkshire, a county for which he always retained a great affection. He was the youngest child of Ernest Hatton who was a barrister of the Inner Temple. Ronald’s mother was Amy Pearson, a woman of forceful character who came from a similar environment, since she was the daughter of William Pearson, also a barrister, who had taken silk. With such legal forebears on both sides of the family it would scarcely have been surprising if their son had followed the law, but perhaps this hereditary influence manifested itself, in later life, in a marked ability for administration and the handling of finance. But, though Ronald’s ancestry was mainly non-scientific, there was one very distinguished scientist on the mother’s side, namely his uncle, Professor Karl Pearson, F.R.S., the famous statistician and author of The grammar of science . The other members of the family were two sisters. The elder of these, Margerie, followed a successful career as a nurse. She became Matron of the Cottage Hospital at Lyme Regis and, later, for a period of thirteen years till the time of her death, was Matron of the hospital at Teignmouth. The younger sister, Dorothy, studied modern languages at Exeter and was indeed the first woman to receive the Batchelor of Arts Degree from the, then newly established, College of the South-West. She next turned her attention to chemistry, though at this time and subsequently, after her marriage, outdoor pursuits always claimed her great interest.


1942 ◽  
Vol 4 (11) ◽  
pp. 229-250 ◽  

Few men of our time have done more for the scientific development of country life than A. D. Hall. The task required an unusual combination of personality, ability and outlook and these he possessed: he had further the advantage of being ready for the work just when it was ready to be done. He was born on 22 June 1864 at Moss Terrace, Milnrow Road, Rochdale, the son of Edwin Hall, a flannel manufacturer who, however, had come from Bury where the grandfather had also been in the flannel trade, but the older generations had for long been small farmers on the edge of the moors. He was the eldest of five children and his early home life was very happy. The parents were in comfortable circumstances and encouraged the children to take an interest in intellectual and outdoor pursuits, to read widely, to realize the beauty in books, music and pictures; at the week-ends the father took them for long walks. On Sunday evenings after Sunday School and Church they would sit round the fire, listen to the reading of the Bible and then join in singing hymns standing round their mother at the piano. It was the kind of up-bringing that has produced many famous men. His family was not unique in its intellectual interests: there were others like-minded in Rochdale. In one of his rare autobiographical fragments 1 he describes a little society of working men naturalists that as a boy he used to frequent—for he had a gift of making friends with older men. One member, a cotton spinner, had added several mosses to the British flora; another had made a detailed study of the calcareous shale brought up from a coal pit and prepared numerous sections of the fossil vegetation which he passed on to Professor Williamson for use in his paleobotanical investigations; yet another, a brass fitter, made the bodies of microscopes and telescopes and fitted them with lenses purchased from optical firms; from him Hall, by dint of hard saving, acquired his first microscope: ‘a clumsy tool’, he says, ‘but it served my purposes.’


Traversing ◽  
2020 ◽  
pp. 170-190
Author(s):  
Susanna Trnka

This chapter concludes with an analysis of Martin Heidegger, Jan Patocka, and Václav Havel's exhortations on actively envisioning and embracing a world without advanced technology. Indulging in the many pleasures of the great outdoors, the chapter also examines how nature and “the natural” give a different sort of bodily knowledge of who people are. It talks about “Indian camps” that mimic the heavily romanticized and fictionalized lifeways of Native American tribes to the industriousness of a relaxing visit to the familial “chata” or country cottage. It also talks about Czechs in their outdoor pursuits and questions whether the realities of living close to nature can indeed transport people to a deeper understanding of what it is be alive. The chapter explores the possibilities and limits of the acts of beauty and violence, dissolution and transcendence that make up everyday living.


1975 ◽  
Vol 22 (1) ◽  
pp. 25-27
Author(s):  
A.R. Crowther

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