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CONSECRATION TO GOD.

SIMPLE TASTES. I must give God the body, I must give God the soul. Knowledge, so far from being incompatible with simI give him the body, if I clothe the tongue with his plicity of pleasure, is the quickest to perceive its wealth. praises--if I yield not my members as instruments of Chaucer would lie for hours looking at the daisies. unrighteousness—if I suffer not the fires of unhallowed Scipio and Lælius would amuse themselves with making passion to light up mine eye, nor the vampire of envy to ducks and drakes in the water. Epaminondas, the suck the colour from my cheek—if I profane not my greatest of all the active spirits of Greece, was a flutehands with the gains of ungodliness—if I turn away mine player and a dancer. Alfred the Great could act the car from the scoffer, and keep under every appetite, and whole part of a minstrel. Epicurus taught the riches of wrestle with every lust-making it palpable that I con- temperance and intellectual pleasures in a garden. The sider each limb as not destined to corruption, but intended other philosophers of his country walked between hearen for illustrious service, when, at the trumpet-blast of the and earth in the colloquial bowers of Academus; and resurrection, the earth's sepulchres shall be riven. And the wiser heart of Solomon, who found every thing Fain I give God the soul, when the understanding is reverently because he was a king, has left us panegyrics on the turned on the investigations of celestial truth-when the spring, and the voice of the turtle, because he was a will is reduced to meek compliance with the Divine will poet, a lover, and a wise man. --and when all the affections move so harmoniously with

VARIETIES OF EXCELLENCE. the Lord's, that they fasten on the objects which occupy his.-Rev. H. Melvill.

Very excellent men excel in different ways: the most

radiant stones may differ in colour when they do not in AN OBJECT OF ENVY.

value.-Howe. I have no propensity to envy any one, least of all the rich and great; but if I were disposed to this weakness, the subject of my envy would be a healthy young man in

SON N E T S. full possession of his strength and faculties, going forth in a morning to work for his wife and children, or bring

SUMMER. ing them home his wages at night.-Paley.

Her spouse the sun, her ministers the showers,
TASTE FOR THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE.

Sce Summer comes! Beneath her feet more green
Deficiency of fancy and sensibility is unfortunate amidst

Grows the green earu; and, as she bids, the bowers

l'ut on more lavishly their lenfy screen, a creation infinitely rich with grand and beautiful objects, While all the gorgeous regi!nent of flowers which, imparting something more than images to a mind

Don their bright colours for the Seasons' Queen. adapted and habituated to converse with nature, inspire

All sights and sounds of joyaunce with her come :

Skies of serenest blue and glassy seas, an exquisite sentiment that seems like the emanation of The birds' blithe carol and the insects' hum, a spirit residing in them. It is unfortunate, I have thought

The kindly sunshine and the cooling breeze, within these few minutes, while looking out on one of the

Romantic glaile, and wood, and waterfall

These God hath given perennial power to please : most enchanting nights of the most interesting season of Plense shall they ever--never shall they pall, the year, and hearing the voices of a company of persons,

But still to gentle souls grow dearer, one and all. to whom, I can perceive, this soft and solemn shade over the earth, the calm sky, the beautiful stripes of cloud, the

BEAUTY. stars and waning moon just risen, are things not in the

Oh! what is Beauty? Strays it o'er the check least more interesting than the walls, ceiling, and candle

On which the rose and lily blend their hue? light of a room.-Rev. J. Foster,

Or say must we the subtle essence seek

In eye of burning black or bonny blue?'
BURNS' POEMS.

In pouting lips that kisses scem to sue,
Burns' pictures of human life and of the world are of a

Long shady lash, or brow of peerless snow?

Lurks it in laughing dimples mirth that woo? mental as well as national kind. His 'Twa Dogs' prove Search, if you list, them all. Hast found it? No, that happiness is not unequally diffused : "Scotch Drink' Then what is beauty ? 'Tis the apparent soul gives us fireside enjoyments: the 'Earnest Cry and

That bids 'tho eloquent blood' in blushes glow

The expressive power that causeth woman's eye Prayer' shows the keen eye which humble people cast on

Kindle with love's soft light, with pity's tear o'erfios their rulers: the "Auld Mare' and the Address to 'Tis that which gains the captive heart's control, Maillie' enjoin, by the most simple and touching ex

And makes a living thing of cold dead statuary. amples, kindness and mercy to dumb creatures: the · Holy Fair' desires to curb the licentiousness of those

MILTON'S BLINDNESS. who seek amusement instead of holiness in religion :

It is clear that, by whatever argument the poet might Man was made to mourn’ exhorts the strong and the reconcile himself to his blindness, there were moments wealthy to be mindful of the weak and the poor : ‘Hal- when he felt most bitterly the deprivation. In his lowe'en’ shows us superstition in a domestic aspect : poverty he could not employ a skilful and learned amanu* Tam o' Shanter' adorns popular belief with humorous ensis, who could take down his expressions with facility : terror, and helps us to laugh old dreads away: the the aid and consolation of books, except at the mercy of • Mouse' in its weakness contrasts with man in his others, were shut to him. He grieved for the loss of strength, and preaches to us the instability of happiness that outward view of the face of nature in which he had on earth': while the Mountain Daisy' pleads with such delighted : he could no longer roam alone at his own will moral pathos the cause of the flowers of the field, sent by amid the woods, and forests, and green fields : he sat of God to adorn the earth for man's pleasure, that our feet

a sunny morning in his house-porch enjoying the fresh have pressed less ungraciously on the wee modest crim. air; but this was in a suburb of the great city, in a conson-tipped flower' since his song was written. Others of fined garden : the freedom of limb, the exhilaration of his poems have a still grander reach. The Vision' re- boundary exercise, the breasting of the blowing wind, veals the poet's plan of Providence, proves the worth of the charge of the fresh breeze, which varies with each eloquence, bravery, honesty, and beauty, and that even contending step, were not his! Oh, dark, dark, darš, the rustic bard himself is a useful and ornamental link amid the blaze of noon !'--Sir E. Brydges, Bart. in the great chain of being. The “Cottar's Saturday Night' connects us with the invisible world, and shows that domestic peace, faithful love, and patriotic feelings, Printed and published by JAMES HOGG, 122 Nicolson Street,

Edinburgh; to whom all communications are to be addresses are, of earthly things, most akin to the joys of heaven;

Sold also by J.JOHNSTONE, Edinburgh; J. ALFOD, Glasgos: while the “ Elegy on Matthew Henderson unites human M'Comb, Belfast; J. CLANCY, Dublin; G. & R. KING, Aberdera; nature in a bond of sympathy with the stars of the sky, R. WALKER, Dundee; G. Philir, Liverpool; FINLAY & CHARLthe fowls of the air, the beasts of the field, the flowery

TON,

Newcastle; WRIGHTSON & WEBB, Birmingham; Galt &

Co., Manchester; R. GROOM BRIDGE & Sons, London ; and all vale, and the lonely mountain.-Allan Cunningham. Booksellers,

[graphic]

No. 22.

EDINBURGH, SATURDAY, JULY 26, 1845.

PRICE 11d

fond of dancing as a Frenchman. Hence he is the very OLD BOYS.

life of a bachelor's supper party. There he is in his eleTHERE are many superficial observers who suppose that ment. His spirits riot and revel in festive hilarity. there are no boys in the world except those of the rising There is no end to his wit and waggery. His lungs seem generation of mere children, who, having escaped from to be made of leather, and he roars like a bull of Bashan. petticoats, rejoice in jackets, and are secretly looking His loud and continued peals of laughter seem to be inforward to getting long-tailed coats. This, however, is a fectious, and create quite a laughing chorus. Everything grievous mistake. Those who look with a philosophic eye he turns into puns and pleasantry. Innumerable are his upon the world, will perceive two classes of boys, namely, humorous sallies and pungent personalities. As the cup boys properly so called, and old boys, not improperly so circulates his restlessness increases, and nothing will concalled, inasmuch as, with the exception of their being tent him but jumping over tables and chairs, and playing somewhat taller, and somewhat heavier, and somewhat at leap-frog with his boon companions, while, during the older, they have about them a good deal in common with temporary cessation of the game, he is showing his dexthe real bona-fide out and out boy.

terity in balancing a chair, or amusing his friends by a The interesting specimens of humanity who come display of his vocal powers. within the category of old boys, generally begin life with This joyous, joking, jumping sort of life is no doubt very excellent constitutions, an inımense flow of animal spirits, pleasant while it lasts, but, like all things, it comes to an and an almost inexhaustible stock of good nature. These end. With most men it ends before they are twenty-five, constitutional advantages impart to them a vigour and and with many much sooner. Some readily, and others vitality of body, and an elasticity of mind, which truly reluctantly, but all, sooner or later, leave off their youthenables them to go on their way rejoicing. Cares and ful sports and pastimes, and in a few years become quite calamities which would crush and kill ordinary men, sobered down by the cares and concerns of life. This is find and leave the old boys alive and kicking. No one the rule, but old boys are the exception. Boys they ever heard of an old boy committing suicide. The thing were, and boys to a very great extent they still remain. is impossible. He laughs and jokes at the losses and Nobody ever heard of an old boy being sobered down by crosses of life, but never despairs. He is like a cork—it time. The thing is impossible. There is a constitutional is impossible to keep him under water. In the really juvenility about them which remains always fresh and juvenile part of his life he is a most restless and rollock- unfaded. They are a sort of evergreens in the garden of ing being. His whole soul seems to be absorbed in sports humanity. Other men may droop and decline, but the and pastimes-in running, or wrestling, or leaping. He old boy remains unchanged—firm and erect as ever. He is never at rest unless he is in motion. His relish for rises with the lark and lies down with the lamb. While feats of strength and agility is insatiable; and you cannot other men are snoring in their beds, in a state of sustake a walk with him a mile or two into the country, but pended animation,' he is scouring over the country, inhe will suddenly propose to run a race with you, or chal- haling health at every step. No wonder, therefore, that lenge you to leap over some gate or ditch. Though you may the old boy should continue to cut capers' longer than decline to compete with him in these bold and boisterous his fellows. He has a good right to do so. His body is pastimes, this is no good reason why he is not to pursue hale and hearty, and there is within him a well-spring of the bent of his humour. His love of action and excite- mirth and good-humour which keeps his feelings fresli ment cannot be restrained, and before you can pronounce and his spirits light. Thus it is that the old boy goes on the name of that popular person called Jack Robinson, his way rejoicing. While some with whom he started in you see your frolicksome friend bounding like an antelope the race of life have become bilious, and nervous, and hypoover some fence, or peradventure climbing a tree with all chondriacal; and while others are becoming rheumatic the ease and agility of a squirrel. Within doors this and stiff in the joints, and are encasing themselves in buoyant and boisterous spirit is ever breaking forth. In Welch flannel and chamois leather, the old boy is still the morning, he jumps bolt out of bed upon the floor, hale and hearty, walking with a brisk and bounding step making the whole house shake, to the no small terror of over the carth. No doubt, his laughter is not quite so the inmates, who mistake it for the shock of an earth- loud, nor his bearing so boisterous as it once was; neither quake. Then, in coming down stairs, he bounds along does he now, as he was wont, climb up trees, nor take like a greyhound, taking three or four steps at a time, marvellous leaps over ditches and dining-tables; still he and bursts into the breakfast parlour with a shout, mak- is an amazingly active man, and does things that no one ing folks with delicate nerves quake for fear. He is as but a regular out and out old boy could do. You may see

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him sallying forth early in the morning with his fishing- be perceptible to those who do not constantly sce the old tackle, a capacious basket on his back, and a large assort- boys. It is clear, however, that Father Time has at last nient of lines, and gut, and divers sorts of flies, curiously laid his hand upon his favourites. The thing cannot be wound round his hat; and, in the enthusiasm of the sport, concealed. A few grey hairs and wrinkles have appeared, he may oftentimes be seen wading up to the knees in the and the faint traces of the feet of certain sable birds may stream, as if he were resolved to take the fish whether be discerned about the corners of the old boy's eyes. they would or not. Anon, he may be seen with some kin- Anon Father 'Time throws a bandful of dust in their eyes, dred spirits, arrayed in red coats, playing at golf, or per- or stuffs their ears, or peradventure he silently loosens a adventure scouring over the country after some unfor- few of their teeth, or pulls out some of their bair. This tunate fox. On the glorious 12th of August, the old boy no doubt is rather scurry treatment. The old boys, boxshoulders his Joe Manton, and, with his couple of favourite ever, take it all in good part, and laugh over the thing pointers, succeeds in bagging many a brace of game. as a sort of joke. They know very well that Time must do Then, when winter comes down upon the earth and binds his duty. Instead, therefore, of abusing the old gentlethe waters with frost, the old boy may be seen among a man, and idly bemoaning themselves at their altered apband of curlers, broom in hand, sweeping and shouting pearance, they straightway set about using means to concea by turns. It must not, however, be supposed that the his ravages. They endeavour by smiles and good humour old boys do these things without exciting a good deal of to smooth down as much as possible the wrinkles that he ill will. Their hum-drum, sobered down, sit-by-the-fire- may have planted in their faces; and if the old gentleman, side companions, seem to think that there is something in the discharge of his imperative duty,' has loosened highly improper and unbecoming in them thus persisting some of their teeth, or pulled out a portion of their hair, in being still young men. Many of these persons are they instantly call the dentist and peruquier to their assist'fifty, or, by'r lady, inclining to thrcescore,' and yet ance, and by their timely aid they are enabled to enjoy a they fish and fowl, and dress and dance, just as if they quiet laugh in their sleeves at time. were boys. These old boys are quite a thorn in their side. It is pleasant to watch the old boy towards the close of They are a perfect eyesore to them, and they cannot his career. It is the transition state from the full pride endure to hear any one speak of their fresh looks and of manhood to the beginning of the decline of life shich active habits. It is a sort of indirect reflection upon is the most trying. When this period is past, the old boy themselves. How is it that they are not as fresh-looking remains for a great many years almost unchanged. He and as active as these said old boys? They were school is fresh and erect; he can read the smallest type without fellows. Some of them are several years their seniors, the aid of spectacles; and there is a rosiness, or rather and yet they look several years younger. How is this ! pinkiness, in his cheeks, which shows the strength and • Bless me, my dear, what a fresh active man that Mr stamina within. Altogether, he enjoys a green old age. Spring is; one would never take him to be older than He cannot now either leap, or run, or dance; but he is you are; he looks ten years younger!' Thus sayeth the , an excellent walker. He, as of yore, rises early, and

better half' of some poor sobered-down wight, as he sits, walks out in all seasons; he takes an especial care in with a rueful face, by the chimney-corner, grierously tor- showing that he does not care a fig for the weather, and mented with the toothach. This is the unkindest cut always expresses great pity and contempt for those who of all, and coming too from the wife of his bosom, it is cannot go out in a dull day without providing themselves daggers to the poor man. He cannot pursue his lawful with top coats and umbrellas. The barometer is never Focations in a damp day without running the risk of being consulted by him. Come fair, come foul, he every mortlaid up for days together with cold, or cough, or tooth- ing sallies forth after breakfast, and walks with a firm ach, or rheumatism, while that provoking and pestilent unfaltering step a certain number of miles before dinner. old fellow, Spring, goes about in sleet and snow with per. He always has a substantial staff, but he either carries it fect impunity. The very thought of these things, coupled under his arm or holds it loosely by the middle; this be with his sufferings and his better half's unfortunate does to show that he carries the staff merely for amuseallusion to his friend Spring, makes the poor man, ment, and not for the purpose of supporting him. The who was already somewhat testy, wax perfectly pugna- wish to appear and to be thought hale and strong is ever cious. He regards himself as a very ill-used man, as a uppermost in the mind of the old boy. It is in truth his person who has an undoubted right to be angry; so he ruling passion. It clings to him to the last. He thinks pushes back his nightcap off his brow, and assuming as that the eyes of the world are always upon him, and if, dignified an air as a man with a nightcap on his head in the course of his walk, he should come to a gutter or can assume, proceeds to pour forth a most vehement small brook, and if there are any of the softer sex Dear, tirade against old boys in general and against Mr Spring he summons forth all his strength and springs over it to in particular. For his part, he detests foolishness and the best of his ability. He does not, of course, do it so absurdity in all people, but especially in persons of mature easily or so gracefully as he once could; but no maiter, it years. There is a season for every thing. It is shocking pleases the old-boy, and he goes on his way chuckling and to see a man arrived at Spring's time of life going about rubbing his hands with glee, to think how the people fishing and fowling, and jumping and dancing, just as if would marvel at his agility. he were a young man; and then his dress, sporting light Years roll on, and bring their usual amount of change vests and white hats, instead of clothing himself in dark to all. There is, however, little perceptible diference demure garments befitting his age; but, after all, there in the appearance of the old boy. His figure may pero are no fools like old fools.' But the old boys are not such haps be slightly bent, and his step not so elastic; but still fools as this testy gentleman holds them to be. It is pos- you see in his clean neat appearance, in his exact curled sible, though some folks may doubt it, to be both merry wig, well brushed coat and hat, and well polished boots, and wise. There are weeping philosophers and laughing all the external marks of the old boy. He invariab! philosophers. The old boys belong to the latter class. takes his walk after breakfast, and if the weather look's If they do not laugh and grow fat,' they at least laugh very threatening, or if it is very cold, he may be prevailed and keep young —at least they do not grow so soon either upon by his housekeeper (for the old boy has been alsais old, or rather old like, as their fellows of a more lugubri- too fond of freedom, and of having his own way, to taše ous temperament. Time does, no doubt, produce its a wife) to put on his greatcoat. But though he may effects even on old boys. It is pleasant, however, to mark secretly feel that he requires it, he invariably protests the manful struggle which they make against his silent against having any need for such a thing, and probably inroads-the readiness and tact with which they repair makes a show of abusing the worthy woman for lier kind his ravages. The old boys are constantly engaged in ness. He is nearly as good tempered, and as joyous and the ping up appearances in renovating and restoring light-hearted as ever. He loves still to hear and tells vale, t time has altered or destroyed. A change, however, merry story, and his songs and laughter, though not so

begin to appear upon them, so faint indeed as only to I loud and so boisterous as of yore, are equally full of quiet kumcur and festive glee. The latter days of the old boy where he had an uncle who was a bachelor; also a generally pass very pleasantly away. Though consti- grandmother who kept his house. With this uncle, and tationally full of fun and good humour, he has always three crabbed aunts, all single, who resided together at paid becoming attention to the main chance. Amidst all Swithland, about two miles distant from bis uncle's, he his quips and cranks, dancing and drollery, he has never lived alternately for about fifteen months. Here he was lost sight of number one. His pleasantry and puns have put into breeches; but he was considered an interloper, nerer run away with his prudence; hence he has con- and treated with much ill-nature. One of his aunts was trived to feather his nest pretty comfortably with the unhappily addicted to drinking; and he says, that upon good things of this life. Plenty makes pleasantness, or, as one occasion when he was out with her, she called at an Sancho Panza would say, 'good fare lessens care. Thus, ale-house and got so very tipsy, that she could neither in his little snuggery, with his old faithful housekeeper stand nor walk. This was a scene that often occurred, and to minister to all his necessities, the days of the old boy though he was very young, it seems to have made such an glide away very comfortably. While, however, the old impression upon him as to cause him to look ever afterboy is reposing on a bed of roses, his heir is in all proba- wards upon this vice with disgust and abhorrence. His bility lying on a bed of thorns. Woe betide the unfortu- father, too, was so given to the same debasing habit that date wight who is looking forward to inherit the worldly he squandered the pittance he was able to earn as a joursubstance of an old boy. His is no enviable lot. He neyman wool-comber, while his wife and family were oftenwould require at least the patience of Job. Waiting to times nearly starved for want of bread. Between the step into dead men's shoes is in most cases rather tire- age of four and six, Hutton, by some contrivance or other, some and trying to the temper; but it is enough to drive was sent to school, where he was most harshly treated by any ordinary man to his wits' end to have to wait year his teacher, who often took occasion to beat his head against after year, enduring all the bitterness of hope deferred, the wall, holding it by the hair, but without being able to till the common enemy enables him to slip his eager toes drive any learning into it, for he hated all books but those into the slippers of a defunct old boy. The old boy will containing pictures. This was the only schooling he ever doubtless keep his kinsman waiting a pretty considerable had. time. He is made of rather tough materials. There is an When Hutton was six years old, consultations were held immense deal of stamina in him. Time has bent, but it about fixing him in some employment for the benefit of will not easily break him. Year after year bis friends the family. Winding quills for the weaver was mentioned. are dropping away, but he seems determined to live for but this was dropped. Stripping tobacco for the grocer, in erer. Fevers and fogs, east winds and agues, hard winters which he was to earn fourpence a-week, was also proposed ; and soft springs, are anxiously watched and welcomed by but it was at last concluded that he was too young for any the heir, but they all pass harmlessly over the head of the employment. The year following, however, he was placed old boy. They are filling the churchyard with their vic- in a silk mill in the town of Derby, where for seven tims, but the old boy is still on his legs. He seems to years he had to work; rising at five in the morning, sumbear a charmed life. The heir, Sunday after Sunday, mer and winter; submitting to the cane whenever his hears his pastor descant in good set terms about the master thought proper to make use of it; the constant shortness of life, but when he thinks of his kinsman the companion of the most rude and vulgar of the human old boy, his faith is sorely staggered. He at least forms race-never taught by nature, and never wishing to be an exception to the shortness of life. The man has lived taught. In the year 1731, about Christmas, there was a nobody knows how many scores of years, and he appears very sharp frost, followed by a thaw; and another frost, determined never to die. He seems as tenacious of life when the streets were again glazed with ice. On awakas an eel. Who knows but the old boy may live to see ing one night it seemed day-light. Hutton rose in tears, his heir consigned to the tomb of all the Capulets ;' and being fearful of punishment, and went to his father's bedif it was so, it would then be of little consequence to him side to ask what was the clock. He was told it was about though the old boy lived to be as old as the hills.' The six. He then darted out in terror; and from the bottom poor man begins to have serious apprehensions that such of Fall Street to the top of Silkmill Lane, not 200 yards, may be the case--that the old boy may see him out. His he fell down nine times. Observing no light in the mill, case is desperate. He has a wife and a large small family, he perceived it was still very early, and that the reflecwho are like to swallow him up alive. He has been living tion of the snow into his bed-room window must have defor years on the death of his kinsman, and ever and anon ceived him. As he was returning home it struck two. he hath been comforting himself with the secret hope that On the 9th of March, 1731, the youth was so unfortunate the old boy would cither accidentally slip into a pool as to lose his mother. After her death his father gave up soine morning while engaged in fishing, or suddenly drop housekeeping, sold the furniture, and spent the moneydown in an apoplectic fit. None of these desirable events took lodgings for himself and children with a widow, however occur, and the poor man is much annoyed at who had four of her own. His mother dead, his father being thus kept out of the inheritance. The old boy, continually at an alehouse, and himself among strangers, however, fortunately for his heir, is not immortal. He his life was forlorn indeed! He was almost without a must bow his head to the grim king at last. Some morn- home, nearly without clothes, and his cupboard, we need ing, when the unfortunate heir is sitting ruminating on scarcely add, was scanty enough. At one time, he fasted his bard fate, in being thus obliged to wait so long for a from breakfast one day till noon the next, and then only legacy, a letter with a black seal is put into his hand, dined upon flour and water boiled into a hasty-pudding: which conveys to him the intelligence that the old boy He was also afflicted with the hooping-cough and with is at last 'gathered to his fathers.

boils. His master at the mill was very cruel to him; he made a severe wound in his back when beating him

with a cane. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES.

It grew gradually worse. In a succeeding punishment the point of the cane struck the wound,

which brought it into such a state that mortification was WILLIAM HUTTON.

apprehended. His father was advised to bathe him in WILLIAM Hutton, according to his very interesting auto- Keddleston water. A cure was effected, but he continued biography, was born at the bottom of Full Street, Derby. to carry the scar. When his seven years' servitude at the He remarks that there were no prognostications prior to silk mill had expired, it was necessary to think of some his birth, except that his father, a day before, was chosen other trade. Hutton wished to be a gardener, but his constable. But a circumstance occurred—which, he father opposed this, and to save himself expense and believes, never had happened before in his family—the trouble turned him over for another term of years to his purchase of a cheese, price half-a-guinea, so large as brother, a stocking-maker at Nottingham. On being to merit a wheelbarrow to bring it home. When about transferred from Derby to Nottingham, he did not find two years and a half old he was sent to Mount Sorrel, that his condition was much improved." His uncle acted

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in a very friendly manner towards him, but his aunt was to determine differences between man and man. He mean and sneaking, and grudged him every meal he ate. next day proceeded to Coventry, where he slept at the She kept a constant eye upon the food and the feeder. Star Inn, not as a chamber guest, but a hay-loft one. Not This curb galled his mouth to that degree, that he never being able to procure any work, he then steered his course afterwards eat at another's table without fear. He had also to Derby ; and finally, it was arranged that he should reto work over-hours, early and late, to gain a trifle to turn to Nottingham again, which he accordingly did. His clothe himself with; but so little was he able to earn, wretched and unhappy ramble had damped' his rising that during even the severest part of the winter, he was spirit-it sunk him in the eyes of his acquaintance, and obliged to be contented with a light thin waistcoat, with he did not recover his former balance for two years. It out a lining; as for a coat, he could not possibly get also ruined him in point of dress, for he was not able to money enough to purchase one. In the year 1741, Hut- re-assume his former appearance for a long time. ton fell in love. He was struck with a girl, watched Hutton took a fancy to music, and purchased a bellher wherever she went, and peeped through the window harp. This was a source of pleasure during many years. shutter at night. She lay near his heart eleven years ; | For six months he used every effort that ingenuity could but he never spoke to her in his whole life, nor was she devise to bring something like a tune out of this instruever apprized of his passion. His savings now enabled ment; still his progress was but slow. Like all others, him to purchase a coat and a new wig, with which he was however, who ever have succeeded in any art or pursuit, highly delighted. On the 12th of July in this year, the perseverance was his motto, and he kept the follow ins ill treatment he received from his uncle in the shape of couplet in his memory :a brutal flogging, with a birch broom-handle of white hazel, which almost killed him, caused him to run away.

Despair of nothing that you wonld attain,

Unwearied diligence your point will gain;' He was then in his seventeenth year, and was badly dressed, nearly five feet high, and rather of Dutch make. and the difficulties that he at first had to contend with He carried with him a long narrow bag of brown leather, soon vanished. that would hold about a bushel, in which was packed up As soon as his second apprenticeship was completed, a new suit of clothes; also a white linen bag which would Hutton continued with his uncle as a journeyanan, ir hold about half as much, containing a sixpenny loaf of the which capacity he was able to save a little mones. coarsest bread; a bit of butter wrapped in the leaves of Having contracted a habit of reading what books came in an old copybook; a new bible worth three shillings; one his way, he was now enabled better to gratify this taste, shirt; a pair of stockings; a sun-dial; his best wig care- by purchasing a few works. Among others, he bought fully folded and laid at the top, that by lying in the hollow three volumes of the ' Gentleman's Magazine,' which of the bag it might not be crushed. The ends of these being in a tattered state he contrived to bind. As the two bags being tied together, he flung them over his left stocking trade was very bad, and would not support him, shoulder, rather in the style of a cock-fighter. Being un- he contrived, with considerable difficulty, to learn the art able to put his hat into the bag, he hung it to the button of bookbinding, and after the most devoted attention to of his coat. He had only twopence in his pocket, a spa- it, he managed to become pretty expert at it. In the cious world before him, and no plan of operation. He year 1747 he set out for London, with the intention of trycarried neither a light heart nor a light load; and all that ing to gain his livelihood by his third trade. His sister was light about him was the sun in the heavens and the Catherine raised for him three guineas, sewed them in his money in his pocket. He steered his course to Derby, shirt collar, and he commenced his arduous journey on and near to that town he slept in a field. The next morn- Monday morning the 8th of April, at three o'clock. Na ing he arrived at Lichfield, and espying a barn in a field, being used to walk, his feet were blistered with the first he thought it would afford him a comfortable shelter; on ten miles. He would not, however, succumb to the pain approaching it, however, and trying the door, he found it and fatigue he experienced, but continued to walk og was locked. He then went in search of another lodging, until he had got over fifty-one miles. On the Wednesleaving his bags behind him; to his horror, on returning day evening he arrived in London, and took up his resifor them, he discovered that they had been stolen. Terror dence at an inn called the ' Horns,' in Smithfield. He seized him, he roared after the rascal, but might as well remained in London a few days, but without being able have been silent, for thieves seldom come at call. Run- to procure any work, and as he was entirely friendless ning roaring and lamenting about the fields and roads he thought it the most prudent thing he could do to reoccupied some time. He was too deeply plunged in turn to Nottingham. He then took a shop at Southdistress to find relief in tears. He described the bags well, which he stocked with a quantity of old books he and told the affair to all he met; and from all he found had contrived to buy with his slender finances. As be pity or seeming pity, but redress from none. He saw his only attended at Southwell on the market day, Saturday, hearers dwindle away with the summer twilight, and by he had to walk to that place through all sorts of weather : eleven o'clock he found himself in the open street, left to setting out about five o'clock in the morning, openirs tell his mournful tale to the silent night. It is not easy shop about ten, starving in it all day upon bread an. to conceive a human being in a more forlorn situation. cheese and half-a-pint of ale; taking about one shillin. His finances were nothing; he was a stranger to the and sixpence or two shillings, and then trudging throus! world, and the world was a stranger to him; no employ- the solitary night for five hours, he arrived at Nottingham ment, nor likely to procure any; he had neither food to again. Thus for some time he continued to work at the eat nor a place to rest; all the little property he had stocking-frame during the first five days of the week, upon earth had been taken from him ; nay, even hope, and to attend at Southwell on the Saturday; and although that last and constant friend of the unfortunate, well he worked early and late, and practised the most ridi nigh forsook him. In this miserable state of destitu- economy, he could scarcely get his daily bread. Nerri tion he sought repose upon a butcher's block. Next day despairing of success, he looked out for a shop in Birhe continued his way to Birmingham, and on arriving mingham, and removed to that town. He had arranxt] there he was much struck with the bustle and alacrity of with a poor woman who resided at No. 6 Bull Street, fo. the people. He little thought then, that in the course of part of her small shop, agreeing to pay her one shillis nine years he should become a resident in it, and thirty- a-week for the use of it. He was also, through the kininine years afterwards its historian. Here he made va- ness of a dissenting clergyman, enabled to make a better rious unsuccessful applications for work. At night he sat show than he had hitherto done in point of stock. This down to rest upon the north side of the Old Cross, near gentleman had a quantity of old books, which he lei Philip Street-the poorest of all the poor belonging to that Hutton have upon his signing a note to the effect thai great parish, of which, twenty-seven years afterwards, he he would pay him when he was able. became overseer. He sat under that roof a silent, op- Hutton soon was able, and discharged the debt accortpressed object, where, thirty-one years afterwards, he sat i ingly. “First creep and then go.' is a popular remarš

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