I speak of myself here, but there were several other boys, who were punished equally without justice and without mercy, as well as myself. To recite particular acts of this sort would be as disgusting as they would be tedious and uninteresting. But there was a nice lad, of the name of George Blandford, that he had literally flogged into a hardened dunce—he had whipped every power of learning out of him, and then he whipped him daily because he could not learn. At length his elder brother, who slept in the same room with me, planned their escape from the school. I went down stairs with them very early one morning, and having let them out I locked the doors again, and returned to my bed, without being detected. Griffith, however, called me up to his desk, and having charged me with having assisted in their escape, I boldly admitted the fact, rather than tell a lie; upon which I received a most severe flogging before he set off to reclaim the fugitives. The Blandfords escaped all pursuit, and reached their home; and fortunately for them their parents never suffered them to return. As for myself, he continued to flog, and I continued to set him at defiance. One more act of his extreme injustice I will relate, to shew how unfit he was to have the care of children; and as a caution to parents not to place them in the power of such men, particularly under the care of such clergymen, who, while they practise every species of tyranny, injustice, and cruelty, upon their pupils, contrive to escape detection by covering their real character with the garb of religion, and thus hide the most atrocious acts under the cloak of their hypocritical sanctity.

Immediately before the holidays, there was a prize to be written for, which prize was a handsome pen-knife. The Rev. Hugh Stevens, a gentleman in every respect exactly the reverse of Mr. Griffith, was the principal assistant and writing-master, who always decided which was the best written piece; and he at once declared that I was the winner. Griffith, who had never before interfered in a matter of this kind, was enraged that I should be successful, in spite of his malignant exertions always to put me back; and he insisted upon it, that a boy of the name of Butcher had written his piece better than mine, and that he should have the prize. Mr. Stevens felt indignant at this barefaced act of partiality and gross injustice, and would not be come a party to it. After having expostulated some time in vain, he handed me over the prize upon his own responsibility, in the presence of the enraged parson; and desired Griffith, if he wished to favour Butcher, to do it by giving him a knife out of his own pocket, which he actually did, in order to sneak out of the business. By these repeated acts of injustice and cruelty he, however, soon lost his school. Another boy, Mrs. Griffith's own nephew, whose name was Bradley, now ran away, for setting a hollow tree on fire in the public parade, called the Acre.

To shew what acts of tyranny and oppression will drive even a lad to do, in the way of hardened resistance, observe the following instance Seventeen of the boys were to be flogged for making a bonfire on the 5th of November, myself of course among the number; many of them were large boys, and we were left together while Griffith was busily employed making up a number of rods out of half a dozen new birch brooms, a great many dozens of which he bought every year at Weyhill fair, expressly for that purpose. While he was thus amiably occupied, although I was one of the smallest and youngest among them, I volunteered to recommend forcible resistance; and proposed, if they would all stick together, that when he came into the school we would seize him, lay him down, tie him hand and foot, and give him a good flogging, instead of taking the flogging ourselves; and I believe that I went so far as to offer to become myself the operator. This was listened to for a moment, but such is the effect of tyranny upon the human mind, that the majority were for remaining passive slaves, and accordingly we all patiently suffered him to flog us one after the other. When it came to my turn I looked him in the face, and received any punishment with a hardened indifference, which enraged him to such a degree, that he gave me a double dose; declaring at one time, as he gnashed his teeth, that he would flog me till I did cry out. In spite of his threat, however, he became tired first; for I believe I should have expired under his bloody hand before I would have uttered a single sigh or a groan. I must do my fellow-sufferers the justice to say, that the whole seventeen acted in the same manner, not one of them gratified his tender ear with a shriek, a groan, or even a complaint.

Our play ground was the church yard, at the back of the school; a very improper place indeed for boys to amuse themselves in, as it was covered with graves, and tomb and head stones, over which it was our occupation to be constantly jumping. The churchwardens complained to Griffith of the injury done to the graves by our jumping on them, and Griffith, tyrant like, always ready to curtail any indulgence and liberty we had, however previously limited it might be, instead of appropriating a fresh play ground to our use, threatened to punish any boy who was found jumping over the tomb stones, or upon the graves, and prohibited almost every species of amusement that we had hitherto enjoyed. A consultation was held, and it was agreed, in order to be revenged upon the churchwardens, that we would all meet, in the dusk of the evening, or rather as soon as it was dark, and that every one should throw a stone into the chancel window. When the time arrived, this was religiously performed; and I believe myself and some half dozen more remained, while the rest were scampering off, and had a second throw, although the first did ample execution, and made a tremendous crash, particularly at that still hour of the night. The noise brought all the neighbours out of their houses, who perceived us flying; but we all escaped, and got into the school, without the detection of any one in particular. However, as it was known that some of the boys had done this, we were, all told by Griffith, the next day, that unless we gave up the boy or boys who did it, to be flogged, he would not grant a holiday the whole half year; and he only gave us till two o'clock in the afternoon to consider of what he had said.

During the play hours, between twelve and two o'clock, the whole time was occupied in devising expedients how to avert this dreadful denunciation, which was to deprive us of our usual holidays. At length it was declared that all expedients were in vain; and that, unless some one would undertake to bear the brunt, and sacrifice himself for the common good, they must all submit to be incarcerated within the walls of the school the whole half-year, without any recreation whatever. One of the largest boys said, if any one would volunteer to do this, the others would not only, with gratitude, subscribe the sum required to pay for mending the window, but would also subscribe a handsome sum, as a reward for him who would undertake to receive the punishment.

After this speech, silence reigned around for a time; but all eyes were soon fixed upon me, with a sort of anxious supplicating hope. I stepped forward with a determined air. I was hailed with a general cheer, and I soon realized their hopes, by boldly saying, that I would take the flogging, although it must and would no doubt be a very severe one; provided that they would subscribe to pay for mending the window, but that I scorned to receive any thing more for myself than the reward of their good opinion, and the consciousness of having made a generous sacrifice of myself, in order to relieve the whole of my school fellows from a dilemma which was in no other way to be overcome. I was cheered and caressed, and was led back to the school, a sort of willing captive, and surrendered up to the vengeance of the master, as the culprit who had been guilty of a crime very little short of, and bordering upon, sacrilege. Two or three of the boys came forward, and stated that they had been eye witnesses of the transaction, and had seen me break the window, by throwing repeatedly at it with a hatful of stones. Although Griffith knew this to be a falsehood, as it was ascertained that it was done at one smash, by all the boys, yet, he received the communication with a savage delight; and, having put on one of his usual smiles, a "ghastly grin," he ordered me to prepare for the punishment due to my temerity. The very boy who had proposed the measure was selected to take me on his back, to hold me while I received the flogging, which was inflicted with such savage cruelty, and extended to such a length of time, that with some difficulty I was, by being led into the air, prevented from fainting. Now the result! after coming out of the school I was, I own, extolled by some, and caressed by others; but many laughed at my folly behind my back, some even taunted me at times with having broken the church windows; but, from first to last, they never subscribed one penny towards paying for the window, and I was left to do it myself, which was accomplished by my week's allowance being stopped for the whole half-year, and the remainder was placed to my account, and sent home to my father, in the following item—"for breaking church windows 4s. 6d." And, to this very day, I bear the character in the town of Andover of being the person who, when a boy at school, broke the church windows.

This act of ingratitude was enough to have broken the public spirit of almost any one but myself. I have, from that day to this, been in the constant habit of making personal and pecuniary sacrifices for the common good; but human nature, as taken in the mass, was faithfully imaged, even in a school; and I can safely say, that the only reward which I have ever received, from that day to this, for all my public services, devotion, and sacrifices, consists in the substantial reflection that I have never had any selfish, sinister motives, but that I have always been actuated by the most disinterested philanthropy, and inflexible love of country. How many good men have I seen even in my own time, stand forward the zealous advocates of the people's rights, who have flitted upon the public stage but a very short period, and we have heard no more of them! what is the cause of this dereliction? The inference generally is, that all mankind are alike; none are to be trusted. But the fact is this, many really disinterested, truly patriotic men have been driven from off the field by the infamous slanders of the corrupt daily press. Many of them were men who would have faced a cannon's mouth, or would have suffered the most horrid punishment, even the torture, rather than have deserted the public cause; but they were incapable of bearing up against the malignant slanders, base assertions, and foul attacks of the public press.

There are also many who have come before the public with very patriotic feelings, and who have at the same time calculated upon receiving a public reward; at any rate, they have expected to be saved harmless in their pockets; that the expence of any public exertion would at least be repaid by those who surrounded them, and who cheered and applauded their every exertion.—But, no! so sure as a man entertains any notion or expectation of this sort, so sure is he to meet with cruel disappointment, the very first time he places himself in a situation to try the experiment. Thus, otherwise a very good man, he feels at once disgusted with public ingratitude, and not having calculated upon such conduct, and not perhaps ever having tried the experiment, as I did while at school, he retires with scorn and indignation from public life, or he turns over to some new faction in place or power, who have both the means and inclination to reward him for his apostacy.

To proceed with the narrative, Griffith did every thing he could to prevent my getting on in my studies; but I always contrived to say my lesson, even to him, so as to escape punishment; and, out of all the floggings I got at this school, I was never once punished for not learning my task. Indeed, when I had to say my lesson to Mr. Stevens, I did it with ease, and frequently left off at the head of the class, having worked my way up during his examination. In fact, when I said my lesson to Mr. Stevens, I generally left off at the head or top of the class; but when I said it to Griffith, I was sure always to finish at the bottom.

After having endured this sort of discipline nearly two years and a half, Griffith, one evening, came into the school, after having had bad sport in shooting, as if to wreak that vengeance upon the boys which the partridges had escaped. He walked up the school, throwing his eyes to the right and to the left, to seek for some proper objects; at length he fixed upon a boy of the name of Ludlow, and, having ordered him to prepare for a flogging, Ludlow expostulated, and demanded to know what he had done to justify the punishment? Griffith hesitated, and assigned some trifling reason, frivolous even had it not been unfounded; but he persisted, and gave Ludlow the flogging. As usual he called me up, and upon his ordering me to prepare, I followed the example of Ludlow, and demanded the reason; he gave me a box on the ear, and told me he would inform me after I had received the flogging. When he had given me this chastisement, as usual very severely, he said, "Now, sir, this is for what you did yesterday, and I will flog you to-morrow for what you did the day before," (mentioning at the same time some trivial circumstance,) "unless you should do something in the meanwhile to deserve it." Thus he taught me to look forward to a flogging every day for five or six days to come! This was a little too bad; to live in anticipation, nay of a certainty, of being flogged every day for the next week; and I consequently determined to embrace the first opportunity of taking French leave. I communicated my intention to Ludlow, who slept in the same room, and he, feeling indignant at the injustice done him, determined to accompany me.

The next day, being a half holiday, I was to be confined at home to learn some lines, instead of going out to walk with the rest of the boys; and Ludlow having agreed to sham illness in the morning, we hoped that we should by that means be left at home together by ourselves, and if a fair opportunity offered, we resolved that we would be off. Every thing turned out as we had anticipated. Ludlow was very ill, and Mrs. Griffith, who was a very humane, kind-hearted woman, made him lie in bed, where he was nursed with tea and toast, and other nice things that were necessary for a sick person. About three o'clock all the other boys went out with the usher, to take their after noon's walk. I was left at home, and ordered to remain in the school, to learn a very hard task out of some book, or to take a flogging in the morning. I went immediately up stairs to inform my companion that the coast was clear; he jumped out of bed, and put on his cloaths, and in a few minutes we walked down stairs, out of the back door, across the church yard; and in less than a quarter of an hour we were on our road to Weyhill, leaving Mrs. Griffith to take her patient's physic herself, and any one that chose, to learn the lines that the Parson had set me.

As we passed along we saw our master and his friend shooting in a field adjoining the road. We began to quake for fear, but he was too busily engaged with his sport to notice us; and, creeping along under the hedge, we passed on unnoticed. Ludlow's parents lived at Devizes, a distance of twenty-seven miles from Andover; Enford, the residence of my father, was a little more than fifteen miles on the same road. We lost no time, and, having kept on a good pace, we arrived at Enford soon after six o'clock. This was some time in October, and it was quite dark before we got within sight of the house. We had agreed that Ludlow should sleep with me, and proceed on to his own house the next morning. When we reached the door my heart began to sink within me, and I was actually afraid to enter; for now I began to dread the anger of my father, which was much more terrible to me than the tyranny of Griffith. At length one of the servants, James Jukes, came by, and I begged him to go in and inform my father of my being come home. He told me that my father was from home, but he hastened in, for the purpose of informing my mother. This, however, was not necessary, for we followed him, and stood before my mother, who gave a shriek of astonishment. We told her the story, but she instantly dispatched the servant for my father, who was gone to visit a neighbour. Ludlow was very brave upon this occasion. Before my father arrived, my mother had given us a supper of Apple pie; and, as we were very tired, and as I wished to avoid the presence of my father as long as I could, we requested to go to bed; but my mother would not admit of this till he was come home.

At length, the well known knock at the door announced his approach—I never before felt such a sensation of fear as I did at this moment. He came in, and having sternly surveyed us, after a short pause, he said, "Pray gentlemen, what wind brought you here?" I was speechless; but Ludlow boldly replied, "the severity of our Master, Sir." "Well," he rejoined, "and my severity shall flog you back again to-morrow," upon which we were immediately packed off to bed, which my Mother had taken care to provide for us.

As soon as we were alone in the bed room, Ludlow began to complain of the injustice of my Father; adding, that he had no right to take him back, that he might do what he pleased as to his son, but he should not take him back. I told him this was very brave talking, but that he knew nothing of my Father if he expected to escape, either by blustering or reasoning. If, however, he was determined to proceed home, I would do any thing in my power to get him out of the house very early in the morning.—This was at once agreed upon, to be attempted at all events. We lay awake till day break, when he got up. Having put on his cloaths, we crept down stairs very quietly, and I unlocked the door, and having shaken him by the hand, and wished him better success than I was likely to meet with, he departed for Devizes. I returned to bed, and being called up in the morning, my Father, when he entered the breakfast room, demanded why Ludlow did not get up. I told him the truth, that he had been gone for four hours, and must by that time have reached his own home. My Father made no reply, but with a very stern look he left the room, as I afterwards understood from my Mother, to attend a court-leet at Updavon, where he had engaged to meet his friend and landlord Mr. Wyndham. He informed that gentlemen of the circumstance of my having run away from school, and added, that he intended to take me back early in the morning, a step in the propriety of which Mr. Wyndham heartily concurred—However, in the course of the day, a messenger came with a letter from Griffith to my Father, which was delivered to him in the presence of his landlord. The letter was couched in the most coarse and unfeeling language; he charged my Father with being the author and instigator of all my faults, and accused him of having not only encouraged me in disobeying his orders, but also of conniving at my running away from the school.—This was a most fortunate circumstance for me, and the only thing that could have saved me from being taken back again. Mr. Wyndham told my Father that nothing on earth ought to prevail upon him to place his son again under the care of such a monster; and they now both became just as determinedly hostile to my return as they had previously been agreed that I ought to go back.

In the course of a few days, my Father rode over to Andover, and sent for Griffith down to the Star Inn, to pay him his bill. Having expostulated with him upon his conduct to me, and his still more unfeeling conduct if possible to himself; Griffith chose to bluster and bully, upon which my father coolly turned him out of the room, telling him that his gown alone saved him from the chastisement that he merited; a privilege which the parson did not choose to waive. He, therefore sneaked off, in order to save himself from being either kicked or horse-whipped. Ludlow was taken back to the School by his Father, and having subsequently formed connections, he got into business, and has lived in the own of Andover ever since. Within two years of this time Griffith's school dwindled down to nothing, and soon afterwards, execrated by every boy that had ever been under his care, he returned to Wales, from whence he came.

In detailing these occurrences of my boyhood, I have been thus particular for two purposes; first, to shew the reader the tyranny I had to encounter before I was yet thirteen years of age, and the effect it produced upon my mind, as well as the determined manner in which I resisted oppression, even at that time; and, secondly, with the hope that it will be a warning to all those who may read these memoirs, to avoid sending their children to be flogged out of every good quality, and rendered miserable, without the least chance of improvement, by one of these petty tyrants. The greatest care and circumspection should be exercised by parents, for they have a sacred duty to perform, in the selection of those with whom they intrust the care and education of their children. As to this school, it was a stain upon and a disgrace to the character of English education: in Scotland such a school would not have existed a month, and the master would have been indicted.

I was next placed under the care of the Rev. James Evans, who kept a very respectable school in Castle Street, at Salisbury. This gentleman was also a Welshman; and, as I had taken a great antipathy to Reverend Welshmen, I felt rather uncomfortable when I ascertained that he came from the land of goats. My fears, however, were groundless; he was a gentleman in every respect the reverse of him of whom I have so recently spoken. To be sure he was pedantic enough, having been all his life a school-master; but he was a humane, kind-hearted man, and his strictness was assumed, for the purpose of maintaining by discipline a due subordination in the school. His lady, Mrs. Evans, was also a combination of good qualities, and I believe there never was a more happy couple. She delighted to make every body happy about her. As for myself, the good disposition that I took with me to Andover, was in a great measure flogged out of me there; I was become impatient of controul, and had imbibed an ungovernable spirit, which led me into difficulties and disappointments, that I should otherwise have avoided. I have often lamented the trouble that I gave this worthy man, as well as his lady, and many years back thought it my duty to take an occasion of expressing the sorrow I felt for any uneasiness that I had caused them during my stay there.

The life which I led here was a life, of pleasure compared to that which I led at the place I had quitted, and although it was impossible for me to recover that which I lost at Andover, either in disposition or in learning, yet I acquired ten times more real knowledge of books in one year at this school, under Mr. Evans, than I did at Andover in the two years and a half that I existed there. I remained nearly three years at Salisbury, at the end of which time I was become a pretty good latin scholar, and could construe Virgil and Horace with considerable ease to myself. I was an excellent penman, and a pretty good mathematician, as well as a complete master of mensuration. I had for many years been a pupil of the celebrated Mr. Goodall, and as I was acknowledged by him to have arrived at a great degree of perfection in elegantly "tripping it on the light fantastic toe," he frequently took me to exhibit at his balls, both in Salisbury and other places. I was, in good truth, excessively fond of dancing, and I was not a little proud, at one of the race balls, to be selected by Mr. Goodall, who was master of the ceremonies, to stand one of the first three couple with the Prince of Wales, (my partner Miss S. Mahon) to enable his royal Highness to accomplish the figure of Maney Musk, for the first time introduced at Salisbury, by his Royal Highness.

I will relate only one particular occurrence which I had to encounter at this school, and which, but for a mere accident, would have fixed upon my character an indelible stain; and I am especially induced to notice it by the circumstance of its having been grossly misrepresented by the venal part of the public press. I believe it appeared either in one or both of those sinks of corruption, those stews of falsehood, those unblushing vehicles of calumny and lies, the Morning Post and the Courier, viz. "that Hunt, when a boy, was turned out of a school for robbing one of his schoolfellows." Although I believe there is not one disinterested intelligent person in a thousand, who reads those papers, that ever gives the least credit to any of those atrocious falsehoods with which their columns are constantly filled, yet the baseness and cowardice of their intentions are not the less disgraceful on that account. To proceed, my bedfellow, whose name was Scott, when he arose one morning, discovered that, during the night, his Breeches had been removed from under his pillow, and his purse, which contained a guinea and two or three shillings, had been taken out of the pocket, ransacked of its contents, and then replaced under the pillow. Scott missed the money as he was getting up, and, having mentioned the thing, all the boys collected round him to hear his account of the story. There were also some boys who came out of another room up stairs, and amongst them a boy of the name of Best, who, after having heard what Scott had to say, at once declared that it was impossible for any one but the boy who had slept with him in the same bed to have stolen the money. I instantly fired up, and endeavoured to knock down the scoundrel, who had by implication charged me with the theft. A battle ensued, in which Best got the worst of it, and amongst other things a black eye; which being perceived by Mr. Evans, when we got into the school, I was punished with an imposition for having given it to him; notwithstanding I informed the master that it arose in consequence of his having falsely charged me with a theft. Upon this an investigation took place. Scott proved that he had the money when he went to bed; I also spoke to the knowledge of that fact; all which Best urged as a presumptive proof of my guilt. Appearances were against me, and my having so suddenly attacked Best for the insinuation, rather increased than diminished those appearances.

After breakfast Mr. Evans called me into his parlour, where there was no one but himself and Mrs. Evans, and addressed me in a very solemn manner, trusting, he said, that I would instantly confess to him that I had played some trick with the money, and restore it to him; in which case, he would endeavour to hush the matter up as well as he could. I stood gasping with astonishment, without being able to give an immediate answer; not before believing that he had any suspicion of me. He proceeded as follows, "it is no use for you to deny it, Master Hunt, as I know those who will prove that they saw you take the money." My surprise was now turned to indignation. I protested vehemently against the truth of his assertion, and dared him to the proof. I denied, in the most solemn manner, that I knew any thing of the money, and demanded, with more than common earnestness, that he would bring forth my accusers, that I might meet them face to face.

Mrs. Evans now came forward, and earnestly entreated her husband, in common justice, if there was any person who had seen me, or if he had any proof that I took the money, or knew any thing of it, that he would bring them forward; and, if he had not, that he would at least, admit that he had no ground for saying what he had said. Mr. Evans felt the force of her observation, and seeing that I denied the fact so unequivocally, he said that he had no proof of the fact, that he had gone too far, that as circumstances appeared strong against me at first, and it appeared that I was embarrassed, he thought it best to charge me boldly with it, to induce me to confess at once. Mrs. Evans, who was a good creature, and a sincere lover of justice, possessing too a great deal of discrimination, inveighed in very strong terms against charging a boy with theft, and casting aspersions upon his character, without any foundation or proof whatever. She added, that I had been at the school nearly three[5] years, without ever having created any suspicion of my honesty, or without doing the slightest act upon which they could ground such a charge:—that she had frequently trusted me with money to execute errands and commissions for her, that I had always done it with the strictest regularity, and the most scrupulous regard to honesty; and, raising her voice, she said she would herself be bound for my innocence upon this occasion; adding, with great warmth, there was not an honester lad in the school, and that some of those who threw out dark hints of suspicion against Master Hunt, were much more likely, from their general character, to have robbed Scott than he was.

In consequence of this tone being taken by my kind friend, whose memory I have always held, and ever shall hold, in the highest veneration, Mr. Evans slightly apologized for having asserted that he had proof of my guilt; saying in excuse that it was his duty to do every thing in his power to unravel the mystery. "You may go Master Hunt," said Mrs. Evans; and in the kindest possible manner she endeavoured to console me for the injustice I had suffered, by telling me that the thief would certainly be found out, and then those that had accused me would be ashamed of themselves.

As I walked out of the parlour up the play ground, many of my school fellows approached, to know the result of such a long conference—"Well, Hunt, is there any thing made out likely to clear up this affair?" all of them anxious to see me fairly acquitted of the charge. I exclaimed in a loud voice, "what a d——d liar that Taffy Evans is—He first declared that some one had seen me take the money, and afterwards confessed it was no such thing." Mr. Evans, who had followed me out of the parlour, and had, unperceived by me, walked up his garden, which was only separated from the play ground by some pales and a slight low yew hedge, heard this as plain as any of the boys, In a very emphatic tone, and close to my elbow, he, to my utter confusion, said, "really Master Hunt! Pray, sir, go to your room, and we will settle that account as soon as we go into school," which was in a few minutes after.

I certainly now expected that I should have a severe flogging, and so did all my school fellows; but I was agreeably disappointed when he arrived in the school, by his addressing me in a very serious manner, as follows, "Master Hunt, I now set you an imposition of one hundred lines of Virgil to learn by Friday, and the next time I ever hear you make use of such words I will certainly give you a flogging." The lines were learnt, and so ended that part of the story.

As, however, no discovery was made about the money, I felt very uneasy; not that I believed any of the boys had any suspicion of me, and Scott himself constantly declared that he had not the slightest idea that I knew any thing of the matter. Notwithstanding this, there was sometimes an insinuation thrown out, which rendered my life very miserable; and Best, the boy who had first accused me, although from the drubbing he got he was deterred from repeating the assertion, yet he would frequently ask in my hearing, "who stole Scott's money?" A month had nearly passed, and with most of the Boys the affair began to wear off, and it was seldom mentioned; not so with me, it pressed very heavily upon my mind, and instead of being one of the most lively and cheerful boys in the school, I was now become quite serious, and even melancholy, and was frequently observed to shed tears. My Friends endeavoured to rally me out of this what they called sulky mood; I replied that I could not help it, that I should never again be happy till it was discovered who it was that took my bed-fellow's Money; and that its being lost while I was his bed fellow, certainly threw a sort of suspicion on me, that I could not get over, and to labour under which rendered me completely miserable. They all endeavoured to laugh me out of this humour, and I must say that Scott himself did every thing in his power to relieve me; but it was all in vain, I not only grew melancholy, but I began to lose my appetite, and as I looked very thin and ill, Mrs. Evans was really somewhat alarmed, and said every thing she could to comfort me. Alas! it was all in vain, and I really began to think that I should fall a victim to a false accusation, for I had no sleep by night, nor ease by day.



Mrs. Evans now proposed to send for my father, which in a few days she did. When he arrived and was informed of the circumstances, he felt greatly distressed. I was sent for into the parlour; my father was shocked at my appearing in such ill health, and the agony of his feelings was intense at the cause of my illness. He intreated me, by the love I bore towards him and my mother, to confess the truth; if I had in an unguarded moment been led into an error, the only reparation was openly to confess it, and, in that case, he offered immediately to repay Scott his money, and to make him a handsome present besides; in fact he promised to do any thing. Before he would allow me to make an answer, he went almost upon his knees, and implored me to tell him the whole truth, proffering at the same time his entire forgiveness if I had done it. I assured him, in the most serious and solemn manner, that I knew nothing whatever of the money, that it had made me very unhappy indeed, that I had had no sleep for the last eight or ten nights, and had lost my appetite, and that I was become very weak and ill; which illness he found, by feeling my pulse, was attended with a very considerable fever. He proposed to take me home for a short time, to restore my health; but this I objected to, as being likely to give a colour to the charge. It was therefore settled that I should take some medicine, prescribed by Mr. Stills[6], to calm my spirits and allay my fever.

My father returned home almost broken-hearted, and I continued in the same melancholy and hopeless state. However, in the evening of the next Sunday, a boy came running up to me almost breathless, and declared that he had discovered the thief, who had stolen the money. I eagerly entreated him to explain himself—he answered that Charles Best, together with his brother James, had just brought in a hatful of Carraway Comfits, which be said he had bought with five shillings, given to him by his father. The Father of these boys lived in the town, and they had been home on the Sunday, as was usual, to dine with him. They had just returned from their visit, about eight o'clock in the evening, and Charles, the eldest, the fellow who had accused me of being the thief, had now brought these comfits in his hat, saying that his father had given him five shillings, which he had expended at once in this way. My friend directly declared that it was a falsehood, that his father was a cursedly stingy old fellow, and that he had never before returned with more than sixpence in his pocket; and he added, suppose his father or any other person had given him five shillings, it was very unlikely that he would lay it all out at once in such a manner. I requested Best to show us his purse, to see if he had any more money in it. This he declined to do; and, as his brother James began to shuffle, and did not confirm him altogether in his story, I immediately seized him by the collar, and having tripped up his heels, called for assistance to search him. This we accomplished with some difficulty, and having got at his purse, we found it contained sixteen shillings in silver more. He now changed his tale, and asserted that his father had given him a guinea, which he had changed at Mrs. Hadding's the pie-woman; that he had purchased five shillings-worth of carraway comfits, and the sixteen shillings was the remainder of the change.

By the manner of his telling this story it was evidently false. Some of the boys accordingly kept him in custody, while myself and my friend, who had first brought me the intelligence, rushed out of the house, regardless of the consequences, and proceeded as fast as possible to the house of old Best, either to have this account confirmed or denied. On our reaching the door we knocked with great authority, and upon the servant's opening it, we marched in without any ceremony, and demanded an audience of his master immediately, as we had some very important business with him. The servant informed him of our visit, and he came out of the parlour to us, and demanded what business we could have with him at that time of night, it being then nearly nine o'clock. We first asked if his sons had been home to dine with him; he answered yes, and that they had left his house upwards of an hour ago, in order to return to the school, and he wished to know whether they had not arrived before we left it. We replied that they had. We then asked him if he had given his son Charles any money; he at once said, "Certainly not." We then asked him if he had given him a guinea; he replied, "Certainly not." His mother might have given him sixpence, but if she did it was without his knowledge. He then returned into the parlour; and we heard him ask his wife if she had given Charles any money to-day, the answer was, "No, my dear."

This was quite enough for us, and without waiting any further ceremony, we started off back to the school. In the mean time, Best, having ascertained that we were gone to his father to make enquiry, had confessed that it was he who had stolen the money out of Scott's pocket; and when we returned he was surrounded by all the boys, who were upbraiding and taunting him with his villainy; but they were all more enraged with him for his baseness in accusing me of the theft, than they were with the theft itself. I was the only one who expressed any pity for him, and had the weakness to solicit for that mercy to be shewn to him which he had denied to me. The next morning he was expelled the school; but, in consideration of his family very little was said about it—however, they soon left the town, which it was generally understood was occasioned by this unfortunate event. My father was sent for, and he came over immediately, to participate with me in the happiness I felt, at being so completely exculpated from all suspicion; and every endeavour was made to render me, as far as it was possible, compensation for my sufferings.

I trust that this circumstance will prove to the reader the danger and the injustice of condemning any person upon mere circumstantial evidence. How cautious ought jurors upon their oaths to be, not to find men guilty upon mere circumstances; and, particularly, when their verdict may give the party over, bound hand and foot, and place his life or his liberty at the disposal of corrupt, wicked, cruel, and vindictive judges!

I now recovered my health and strength, and prosecuted my studies till I was nearly sixteen years of age. My father then, on condition of my taking orders, and going into the Church, proposed to send me to Oxford, and to purchase the next presentation to a living of upwards of a thousand a year, which was offered to him at that time at a very moderate price; subject to the life of the incumbent, who was upwards of seventy years of age. This I declined, as I had a great wish to be a farmer; and, at the same time, had a particular objection to the Church, an objection which principally originated in the dislike I had to Parson Griffith, and to the way in which he enforced the precepts of Christianity.

My father desired me to reflect well upon it, before I made up my mind; though I could discover that he was not at all displeased at my determination. He would not, he said, prejudice my choice, but whether I was a clergyman, or whether I was a farmer, he hoped I should make a good, a brave, and an honest man; but he added, "if you intend to be a farmer, I trust that it is not from an idea that a farmer's life is composed merely of coursing, hunting, shooting, and fishing. These alone, said he, are very well, when occasionally and moderately used as a recreation; but a farmer must learn his business before he is capable of conducting and managing a farm—for, remember the old couplet, "he that by the plough would thrive, must either hold himself or drive." I would, therefore, have you think this matter over, before you finally make your choice. If you should like to be a clergyman, I have now an opportunity of purchasing the next presentation to a good living, and you will then have secured to you for life a thousand or perhaps twelve hundred pounds a year; and you will have nothing else to do, for six days out of the seven, but hunt, shoot, and fish by day, and play cards and win the money of the farmer's wives and children by night. Although, continued he, this may appear to you, and I am ready to admit, that this is, a very inglorious sort of a life, yet it is a very easy one. All that will be expected of you is to read prayers, and preach a sermon, which will cost you three pence once a week. This is the life of modern clergymen; and they might do very well, and get on very smoothly, in this way, if they did not screw up their tythes too high, and get drunk too often, so as to cause a serious complaint to be made to the bishop by some of the parishioners; which you may rest assured they never will do by you, let your conduct be ever so immoral or ever so irreligious, provided that you let the farmers have their tythes at an easy rate. Do that, and no complaint will ever be made against you to the bishop."

While my father was thus addressing me, my mother returned from visiting a poor gypsy woman, who had that morning been delivered of a fine child, under an adjoining hedge, without any other covering but one of their small tents, which are merely composed of a sheet thrown over a few arched sticks, stuck into the ground. She came into the room just in time to hear the latter part of my father's observations, describing the life of a modern clergyman. With her accustomed charitable feeling, she said "really, my dear, although there is too much truth in the picture you have drawn, yet you have been a little too severe upon the clergy, when speaking of them in the mass. There are many excellent and worthy men, who follow the precepts of their great master, who are an ornament to that society to which they belong, and are, therefore, most deserving members of, and do great credit to, the profession which you have so indiscriminately reprobated."

"Do not tell me," said my father, "about ornaments to society; the best of them are the drones of society, and, without contributing any thing to the common stock, they feed upon the choicest honey, collected by the labour of the industrious bees. To be sure, when they do the duty allotted to them conscientiously, and do not screw up their tythes too high, they may be very necessary evils; but you are aware, my dear, that what I say is true as to most of them that we know; and I am not sorry that Henry appears to have no inclination towards that course of life."

"But," said my mother, "because some of the clergy bear the character that you say they do, is that any reason that Henry should follow their example? If he should be a clergyman, he will have great power of doing good among his parishioners; he may be a magistrate, or perhaps a Doctor of Divinity; and who knows but he may by and bye be a bishop?"

My father now began to grow impatient. "A bishop indeed!" said he, "God forbid that I should ever live to see him act in such a way as to obtain a bishopric, even if he were to go into the church."

My mother was surprised at this language, and enquired if he would not wish his son to gain the top of his profession; to which he answered sternly, (which was not often the case to my mother,) "No, indeed. I would not. The road to such preferment is generally so disgraceful, that I never wish to see him tread its path. He will never attain such an honour but by the most dishonourable means. Would you like to see him the tutor to the son of some nobleman? This is the first step to promotion. When he is in that situation, if his pupil should be of an abandoned character and he will condescend to be his pimp and the pander to his vices, laugh at his follies, and flatter his vanity: why, then, should this sprig of nobility hereafter become a minister of state, or a man in power, knowing the servility of his late tutor, and that he will make a willing tool for the administration to which he belongs, then, forsooth, he is a proper man, and may possibly become a bishop."

My mother could not believe that the highest dignities of the church were ever obtained by such disgraceful means; but my father justified his assertion by pointing out one or two living instances, that had come within the reach of his own knowledge. He also pointed out some dignitaries of the church who lived in his immediate neighbourhood, whom my mother knew, and was obliged to admit to be very profligate characters. But she, always wishing to look at the bright, instead of the dark side of the question, called in turn to his recollection a number of very excellent and very worthy members of the church, whom they knew to be most amiable, charitable, and truly religions characters.

Thus ended this conference upon a subject which appeared to be so very important to my parents. My mother certainly had a great leaning to the desire of seeing me a clergyman, and I believe it would have been the summit of her happiness and ambition to have seen me zealously enforcing those principles of christianity, which she had so faithfully practised. My father dropped the subject at that time; but he took an early opportunity of seriously going into the matter in private, and he exhorted me to give the question a deliberate consideration, as it most materially concerned my future welfare; adding, "he that sets out wrong is more than half undone. If," said he "you intend to lead a quiet, easy life, that of a clergyman will exactly suit you. If you are disposed to make one of the common herd of mankind, and pass your time away in enjoying the sports of the field, and the recreations of a social country life, you may live and die a clergyman, and a very happy man. But if you have any ambition to be a shining character in the world, that is the very last profession I would recommend; as I am firmly persuaded that you will have no chance of becoming eminent, or exalted in rank, unless you will condescend to obtain it by the most prostituted sycophancy, and a total dereliction of every manly noble feeling of independence."

If I had been wavering in my decision, or had entertained any doubts before, this would have turned the scale; but I had already made up my mind to be a farmer, which determination I seriously and firmly communicated to my father. "Well then," said he, "you are young enough to learn, and if you will manfully set your shoulder to the wheel, I have no doubt of your soon becoming acquainted with the practical part of the profession, and when you have acquired a knowledge of the practice the theory will follow very easily. To-morrow you shall make a beginning. You are now sixteen, and no time is to be lost. God and nature have bestowed upon you a sound mind, and an active body; and if you properly apply these inestimable blessings, there is no doubt of your becoming a useful member of society, and of your making a respectable figure in the world. But never forget the maxim that I now lay down for your future guidance; recollect that 'a man can never dirt his hands about his own business;' and always bear in mind these three old Italian proverbs—first, 'Never do that by proxy, which you can do yourself.'—Second, 'Never defer till to-morrow that which can be done well to-day.'—Third, 'Never neglect small matters and expences.'"

The next morning I was called up early, and, to begin upon my labours, I drove one of the teams at plough all day. I came home very tired. Not being accustomed to labour, I found it a very different occupation from that of attending my studies at school; my feet were sore, and my heels were galled, but I was deterred from complaining, by seeing that I was merely performing the same labour that little plough boys, of eight or nine years of age, were only receiving sixpence a day for doing. Driving plough was, therefore, not only, soon learned, but it became very irksome to me; and as I thought myself full as good a man as the lad that was holding, I demanded, before the week was up, that he should change places with me. This he refused, and that occurred which is very common upon such occasions. I threw away the whip, and having seized the handle of the plough, a struggle ensued, which led to blows. At length, the horses and plough were both abandoned, and a regular fight took place between myself and the under carter, who had been holding the plough to which I was the driver. I soon, however, compelled him to cry "hold!" and without farther ceremony I took the plough and he the whip. I mention this trivial circumstance to shew the reader that I was obliged to fight my way into a practical knowledge of agricultural pursuits; my father well knowing, from experience, that there was no other method by which I could gain a complete knowledge of farming, but by the manual performance of every branch of the profession.

Before I proceed it will not be improper to observe that, in detailing the events of my own life, I am confined to the strict limits which truth imposes upon my pen; for if I wished either to exaggerate or to embellish by any imaginary touches, such as may be admissible, and in fact such as are indulged in, by the writers of common events, I should be liable to immediate detection and exposure; because I am detailing circumstances which, although they are long past, are still in the recollection of numerous living witnesses. In fact, there is not an occurrence that I have hitherto mentioned, but what is within the knowledge and the recollection of many of those witnesses, and very many of the most important events which I shall have to detail will be familiar to hundreds. On the other hand, there are certainly many facts and anecdotes, which are only known to myself and those immediately connected with them, and these, when I arrive at them, will, I doubt not, be read with a lively interest by those who are not yet in the secret how many public and private intrigues are carried on and effected. All that I can promise is, that I will, to the best of my knowledge and recollection, which I find no ways impaired by imprisonment, record the truth; and should I, in my anxiety to speak the truth, sometimes become dull, tiresome, or tedious, I must rely upon the indulgence of the reader, to attribute it to my desire that the public should be made acquainted with those circumstances which appear to me to have materially contributed to the formation of that character which has been so vilified, abused, and misrepresented, by the venal tools, and corrupt agents, of a system of persevering, fatal misrule, such as was never equalled in any age or in any country.

To proceed—I now found that I was encountering greater difficulties than I had anticipated. Though it was very easy to learn to drive plough, yet it was a very different thing to be able to hold plough well. I returned home at night ten times more tired than I was when I drove the first day; my feet were not only sore, but my legs and arms ached ready to drop off, and my hands were in a gore of blood, and blistered all over. My poor mother began now to lament my undertaking, and threw out hints how much better and easier it would have been to have gone to Oxford, and have been now preparing myself by study to become a candidate for the black cloth, and to be a respectable clergyman, instead of being a clod-hopper. In the midst of her advice and admonition my mother did not forget to wash my hands and feet, and plaster up my lacerated flesh; and as soon as she had made me comfortable I retired to rest. I rose refreshed, and returned the next day with renovated vigour to my task. To be brief, I soon because a good ploughman. My father daily witnessed with considerable anxiety my zealous and persevering exertions; and as I proceeded, he encouraged me by the most animating hopes of future prospects; he informed me that he had remarked with no small pleasure my determination to excel in every thing that I undertook; and that I set about every thing with an enthusiasm calculated to surmount all difficulties, which was, as he justly observed, the only way to attain any object, or to arrive at any degree of perfection.

I had now regularly persevered with the most assiduous industry for more than a fortnight, and although I was but a tall thin stripling, I perceived that I gathered strength with my labour; and what I at first found to be the most trying exertion and severe hard work, as I became acquainted with the art, it appeared a pleasant and cheerful occupation; for I could now turn a furrow as true and as straight as "the path of an arrow." My father, who was an excellent and an accomplished husbandman, never failed during this time to pass some part of the day with me, in order to instruct me how to set my plough, to fix the share and point, and so to regulate its various bearings as to make it, at the same time it did the work well, go easy and pleasant to the holder. This may, perhaps, be very uninteresting to many sedentary readers, and to those who are mere passing observers, and who believe that there is no art in holding plough; but they are very much mistaken who think that any body will make a farmer, and that to be a good husbandman is the natural result of living in the country. It is a very common and vulgar saying in the country, among farmers, when any one has a son that is more stupid than common, "if he will make nothing else, if he is unfit or incapable of learning any business or trade, why, he will make a parson." But to make a good farmer, a man must have served a double apprenticeship to the profession; and after that, he must be a philosopher and a chemist. No business requires the exercise of a man's patience and his reasoning faculties so much as that of a farmer. Every day, nay, every hour, produces something new, something fresh, which calls forth the active use of his reason, his exertion, and his talent. No two seasons are alike, and scarcely any two days. In every other profession or business, a clever intelligent person can calculate for any given number of hands, nearly, the work of a week, a month, or almost a year, in advance. The manufacturer or the tradesman has a constant regular routine of business for his workmen to perform; and if he be called from his home, for any length of time, he can leave orders what work almost every man shall do till his return; but the farmer's occupation, and that of all his servants, changes with the weather; nay, it becomes his peculiar care, at some periods of the year, to watch with anxiety every change of the wind, and his business to observe the direction of every cloud. But as four or five years of my life were passed in practically acquiring a knowledge of every branch of this most valuable and respectable occupation, I shall, by reciting the particular occurrences of that period, as I pass along, convince the readers of this work, of that which they little suppose to be the case, that it is absolutely necessary for a man to be a philosopher, before he can be a good farmer.

My father, having convinced himself of my capability, as well as my determination to persevere in acquiring the practical manual knowledge of the various branches belonging to husbandry, now said that he was not only satisfied, but extremely well pleased, with the progress I had made; and, therefore, I should now have a respite from such incessant labour, and should take my poney and accompany him round the farms, to inspect and to assist him in giving directions to the workmen. A fresh plough boy was immediately found, and my driver, the vanquished under-carter, again resumed his situation between the handles of the plough, very well pleased with my removal. The scene to which I was now introduced opened to my enquiring eye a new field for observation, and what I had heretofore passed over as common occurrences, became intensely interesting to me. My father felt great delight in satisfying my eager enquiries, and, instead of being annoyed at my unceasing inquisitiveness, he encouraged me to satisfy myself, and not to leave any one subject till he had made me comprehend the cause as well as the effect.

About this time my mother, who had been for several years in a very declining state of health, from a violent nervous affection, which produced a constant oppressive head-ache, was put to bed of a son, her sixth child, and to the great joy of my father, as well as all her friends, as she recovered her strength, and the natural effects of her lying-in wore off, she appeared also to have recovered her general good health, and her usual cheerfulness. She was always benignant, kind, and affectionate, but the effects of an incessant nervous headache had produced a sombre sadness, which threw a gloom around, and affected the whole family, and prevented that sort of hilarity and cheerfulness, which was the usual companion of our abode. My father was of a generous, hospitable, sociable disposition, and was never so happy and blessed as when he had his friends surrounding him, and partaking of those comforts which he had acquired by his industry, skill, and persevering attention to his business; but even these sociable enjoyments with his friends had been very much curtailed, by my dear mother's melancholy indisposition.

The restoration of her health was hailed by my father as the greatest blessing that Divine Providence could have bestowed upon him and his family; and we were all made to join him in audibly offering up our nightly prayers and grateful acknowledgments to the allwise and beneficent Creator, for this to us the greatest of earthly blessings. My father was enraptured, and a hundred times a day, while he burst forth into sincere and extatic praise and adoration of the goodness of the Divine Being, he would enjoin us, his children, never to forget his mercy and loving kindness, in restoring his dear Elizabeth to health. He also called in his friends again, to partake of his hospitable and festive board. In fact, he would sometimes exclaim, to my mother, that he was almost too happy for a mortal, in this vale of misery and probation. My amiable mother used gently to chide him, and to tell him that the best way to manifest their gratitude to Divine Providence, for the happiness which it bestowed, was never to let a day pass over their heads without doing some good act to prove their willingness to deserve it. She would add, with her eye beaming a heavenly smile, "as our blessed Saviour has bestowed every earthly comfort upon us, let it be part of our duty and our pleasure to dispense happiness among our poorer and less fortunate neighbours; for recollect, my dear, 'that all our doings without charity are nothing worth.'"

My mother had not yet been able personally to perform any of her accustomed charitable visits since her lying in; for she was too strict an observer of her religious duties, to go from home till she had gone to the parish church, and publicly offered up her prayers and thanksgivings to her blessed Creator and Saviour. The following Sunday was fixed upon as the day for this religious ceremony. My father expostulated; saying that the church was damp, and that she had better defer it till the next Sunday, and, in the mean time, take some gentle walks abroad, to enure herself by degrees to bear the walk and the fatigue of remaining in the church during the length of the service. He expressed his great dread of her catching cold, and having a relapse in consequence; but she firmly replied, that she never feared any evil when she was performing a sacred religious duty; that God was too wise and too good to permit one of his creatures to suffer, when in the act of obeying his commands; and she urged so many pious reasons to shew the necessity of her not delaying to perform what she termed her indispensable duty, that my father silently, but very reluctantly, submitted to her decision.

But, alas! alas! my father's prophetic forebodings were but too well founded! The ways of God are just, and the dispensations of his wisdom are not to be scanned, much more disputed, by impious man; to submit to his Divine will without repining, is the imperative duty of every sincere Christian. I shall never forget the day, nor the care and anxiety of my excellent father. We set off early, in order to walk leisurely to church, that my mother should not be so heated as to render her liable to catch cold; there was my mother leaning on the right upon my father, and on the left upon me, and two of my sisters, Elizabeth and Sophia, the one about five, and the other about seven years old, skipping lightly along before us. My mother enjoyed the walk very much, and as my father led her into the church, preceded by the clergyman, upon whom we had called in our way thither, the whole congregation spontaneously rose up to greet and to welcome their best and kindest benefactress and amiable neighbour. A gleam of pleasure beamed from every eye, and the curtseys and bows that were bestowed upon her, as she passed along the aisle, most clearly shewed that they proceeded from the impulse of grateful hearts. With a heavenly smile of inward delight, and with an air of the greatest sweetness, she returned their kind salutations. It was an enviable sight, and it imparted to me such sensations of pride and delight, as have been seldom, if ever, equalled since. To see an amiable parent, upon such an occasion, receive the spontaneous willing homage of three or four hundred, the whole, of her poorer neighbours, and the sincere congratulations and kind attentions of all her friends, of this happy village, was a scene never likely to be erased from the memory; every heart appeared to leap with joy, and it seemed to me as if that the whole congregation were preparing to join in prayer, and to participate in the performance of the divine service of the afternoon, with more than usual earnestness and zealous piety.

My mother, who was a tall, thin, elegant figure, and very fair, had a roseate flush spread over her delicate features, and she looked beautiful as she knelt to offer up her grateful and sincere adoration to the omnipotent, omnipresent, merciful Disposer of All. I believe that my father was the only person amongst the whole congregation who did not, at that moment, enjoy unmixed delight. I could discover that his enquiring eye was more frequently fixed upon my mother, than it was upon his prayer-book; a sort of uneasy doubt sat visible upon his brow, and it was plainly to be perceived that his prayers were interrupted by his meditations upon the fearful consequences which he apprehended might be the result of my mother's catching cold, by remaining within the walls of a large damp building, and that building only inhabited for a few hours once a week. But, while he was anticipating earthly misery by the loss of the greatest blessing that kind Heaven had ever bestowed upon man, my angelic mother's soul and body were alike absorbed in the most devout and earnest prayer. In the mean time, the beautiful rosy hue, that had spread such a lustre over her fair face, disappeared. My father's intense anxiety now became so obvious to me that the dreadful uneasiness of mind which he displayed drew my attention to the paleness which had succeeded the colour upon her cheek. The instant the clergyman began to pronounce the concluding prayer, "The peace of God," &c. my father flew across the seat, while my mother was yet on her knees, joining most fervently and devoutly in that beautiful sentence, and exclaimed, in a loud half whisper, which was heard all over the church, "for God's sake! are you not well, my love!" She appeared surprised at the earnestness of his manner, and rather hurt at being interrupted in her devotions; but replied, that she was very well, only a little cold. He hurried her out of the church, and scarcely gave her time to return the salutations of her neighbours, requesting her to take his and my arm, and hasten home as fast as possible, to avoid the effect of a chill which he very much feared that she had taken in the church.

When we got home she was rather fatigued, but, though the colour that had adorned her face did not return, she ate her dinner with a good appetite, and my father began to hope that his fears were groundless. His hope was soon blighted: my mother suddenly screamed out, saying that she had a violent pain in one of her feet. She complained of this pain, sometimes in one foot and sometimes in the other, till bed time; but my father, in order to hide his own forebodings, endeavoured to rally her, and in a joking way told her she was going to have the gout. She took some warm gruel, and retired early to rest.

About twelve o'clock my father came into my bedroom to awake me, and desired me to rise immediately, take my horse, and go for the family apothecary, who lived at a distance of about five miles. I, who was accustomed to rise at a moment's warning, jumped out of bed, and with the greatest haste performed the sad office. I accompanied the apothecary to her bedside before two o'clock, for I had made my poney almost fly thither and back. We found my poor father, who had been anxiously attending the progress of her disorder, in great distress. She had no sooner gone to bed than she was seized with cold chills, which continued, with alternate fever, the paroxysms of which had increased with such violence that she was already partially delirious. The next day Dr. Barvis[7], from Devizes, attended her and pronounced her in considerable danger. I mounted my poney, rode back with him, and soon returned again with the medicine he had prescribed; but my mother's disorder baffled all their skill and attention. My poor father was distracted; he never quitted her bedside for a moment; all his large farming concerns were left to the care of the servants; he desired me to go to them on the Monday morning, the day after my mother was taken ill, and to request them all to do their best in each of their separate departments, and they were left entirely to themselves; every other thought but what was directed to the attention and care of my mother was abandoned; my father, whom I had never known to neglect seeing all his servants once a day at least, and who suffered nothing to be done unless it was under his immediate direction, would not now listen even to an inquiry about his business; his whole soul was wrapped up in his attention to my mother, whose illness he had anticipated with a presaging spirit, even before it came upon her. I was incessantly employed in going too and from the medical attendants, and assisting to wait upon my mother; and from the time of her first attack she took nothing but from the hand either of myself or my father. Her illness was now pronounced to be a determined putrid fever, and she was continually in a delirious state. Her infant son, William, had been kindly received to nurse by an excellent neighbour, Mrs. Patient of Compton, a most worthy lady, who nursed him and her own son together, with great good-nature and ease to herself.

My mother grew worse and worse, and was at length pronounced by the physician past all hopes of recovery. My poor father was frantic; he, who possessed the most manly resolution and firmness upon all other occasions, was now by excessive grief and despair reduced almost to the level of a child; he alternately wept and prayed; but he wept and prayed in vain. I was at this time under seventeen years of age, and I had scarcely time to vent my sorrow. Although I was distressed beyond measure at the suffering of my mother, yet the affliction, the indiscribable anguish, of my father demanded almost as much of my attention as the illness of my mother. To see his noble soul bent down to the earth, driven almost to the madness of desperation, was to me a more heart-rending spectacle than the delirium which produced a sort of stupor in my mother. She had not been sensible for any considerable period of time together for two days; and we were under dreadful apprehensions that she would be taken from us without ever recovering her reason. This my poor father dreaded excessively; yet the very thing we most prayed for, proved, when it was ultimately granted to us, our greatest affliction; so incapable are poor frail mortals of judging what is best for them under such trying circumstances.

My mother had now lain as it were in a doze for about two hours, and my father and myself, who were anxiously watching every breath, observed her awake up, as if it were from a sound sleep; she appeared to feel as if she had recovered from a trance; she spoke; and to the great joy of my father and myself she was perfectly collected. But our joy was of the most transient nature. She looked around in the most melancholy manner, and having enquired where all the children were gone, she expressed a great desire to see them before she breathed her last; for she said she was perfectly sensible of her situation, and she must see her children once more. They had all been removed to the house of a friend, as those who remained were considered in imminent danger from infection, the putrid state of my mother having assumed a very alarming appearance, and no one was now left, except my father, myself, and the nurse; the maid servant having already failed with the fever. My poor father had entreated, nay had commanded me also to save myself by flight; but upon my knees I implored him to let me remain and participate with him in performing the last sad office for my dear mother; I told him that I should break my heart to leave him alone; for he really was now become an object of much greater pity than my dying parent.

My mother repeated so earnestly her wish to see her children, that they were immediately sent for, and she took a last sad farewell of them. They were hastened out of the room, that they might be removed at once from such a melancholy scene, and from the serious danger of contagion, arising from the dreadful state of their mother. To those who have never witnessed a parting of this sort, any attempt of mine to convey to them even a slight representation of the agony it inflicts on those who undergo it, would be in vain, for it is impossible. The great exertion of my poor mother, during this affecting scene, was such as left her almost without the power of speech; her respiration became excessively quick, and my afflicted father exclaimed, "I shall never hear her voice again!" She, however, soon recovered a little, and in the most plaintive strain lamented her approaching end, and prayed aloud to her blessed Saviour, to spare her life that she might have the happiness of seeing her children brought up. In fact, this most excellent of women appeared very much to dread the hand of death. My father now implored her to be tranquillised, and, in the most tender and affectionate manner, assured her, that of all living creatures she was, he thought, the best prepared to enter the presence of her Creator. She calmly replied that though to her knowledge she had never intentionally injured any human being, either in thought, word, or deed; though she had never neglected her duty to her Maker, but had always acted to the best of her judgment so as to deserve his mercy; yet, she trembled, and doubted, and feared to die. My father now observed that her voice faltered, and, to draw her attention from such a painful, heart-rending subject, he asked her if she knew me, supposing that she was becoming insensible. With the kindest look she took my hand, and gently replied, "I know him perfectly well, God bless him!" She then seized his hand also, and instantly expired, grasping both. Thus breathed the last, of as bright, as lovely, and as perfect a pattern of Christian piety as ever lived to grace society, and to adorn and bless a husband and family.

My father's sorrow was now become too intense for outward shew; he stood dumb and motionless, with his eyes fixed and rivetted upon her, in whose death he felt that he had sustained an irretrievable loss. We had both still hold of her hands; his mute, immovable figure looked like a statue; and I fancied that his heart was breaking. I seized him by the hand, and in the most supplicating manner implored him to leave the room. My extreme sorrow seemed to awake him from his trance; and I led him gently, and he followed involuntarily, out of the chamber. Having seated him in his armed chair, I knelt before him, and threw my head in his lap, there I gave a loose to my grief, and mingled my tears with those which were now flowing in streams down his manly cheeks. To endeavour to describe what I felt, upon this melancholy event, would be puerile in the extreme; none but those who have been placed in a similar situation are capable of comprehending the distress which enters the soul of such a husband and child, who had witnessed the last sad moments of such a wife and mother.

To have dwelt so long upon such a melancholy subject, may, perhaps, appear to some of my readers to be not only unnecessary, but tedious. I must, therefore, intreat their indulgence, by confessing my error, if an error it be. At the same time I must assure them, that I believe this to have not only been the most important event of my life, but that it was a matter of more serious importance to me than all the occurrences of my previous existence multiplied ten times ten fold; and this being the case, I shall rely upon their kind forgiveness with great confidence; for I feel that every incident of my life, for many years after this, may be fairly said to have been influenced in some degree, or in some way or other, by this ever to be regretted, never to be forgotten, loss.

My father remained absorbed in melancholy, shut himself up, and refused to see any one till after the last sad office had been performed for my mother. In the mean time, he gave me instructions to overlook all the servants, and to superintend their work.

At length the day arrived for performing the ceremony of depositing her honoured remains in the family vault, which was in the chancel of the parish church. My father and myself followed as chief-mourners; and, during the performance of the funeral service, I believe there was not a dry eye amongst the numerous congregation who attended. Every one felt that he had sustained a loss. My father was so agitated, that I thought at one moment he would have thrown himself headlong into the grave, upon my mother's coffin; and it was with some difficulty that he was drawn from the sacred spot.

The maid servant was yet confined to her bed, very ill with the fever; and my eldest sister, who was about thirteen years of age, also fell sick the morning before the funeral took place. When we returned from church, we found that she had been obliged to go to bed, and the apothecary declared that she also had taken the fever. My father was very much alarmed for the consequences, and he now devoted his whole attention to the care of my sister, and left me entirely to manage his business.

The servant soon got well, in spite, as it were, of herself; for having heard the dogs howl very much one night, the circumstance made such an impression upon her weak, fearful mind, that it was with the greatest difficulty she could be persuaded that she was better. The howling of the dogs she considered as a certain omen of her death, and she gave herself up entirely to this ridiculous notion; nor could any thing short of a most excellent constitution have saved her from falling a prey to her own superstition. However, having been almost forced out of her bed, and persuaded with difficulty to put on her cloaths, she soon found, to her great astonishment, that she was as well as ever she was in her life, with the exception of being a little languid from the effects of the fever. The recovery of poor BETTY KITE was a great comfort to the whole family; for, although she was one of the plainest women in the world, and also very illiterate, and full of superstition, yet she was an unequalled servant both as to cleanliness and work. I was a great plague to her in various ways. She not being the best tempered woman in the world, I used to irritate her very much, by imitating the howling of dogs; and the complaints that she frequently made to my father of my conduct to her were truly ridiculous.

My father was now left a widower, in the prime of life; (at least he considered himself quite in the prime of life at the age of fifty-eight) with six children, myself the least, three sisters and two brothers. With such a family, the loss of a mother is at all times, and under almost all circumstances, the most serious and irreparable; but the loss of such a mother as ours, alas it was most distressing! Ours was indeed a house of joy turned into a house of mourning; it was not the same house, it was not the same family. There stood my poor departed mother's chair, and the sight of the vacant seat perpetually called forth our tears, and sighs, and lamentations; my father would not have it removed,—but I must quit this subject, or I shall dwell upon it for ever.

My sister recovered from the fever, but there remained such a languor and weakness, that it was a long time before she could walk alone. My father dreaded her loss now almost as much as he had before dreaded that of my mother; he devoted a great portion of his time to her, and I was still left to look after his very extensive business. I shall never forget the authority I now began to assume. I was as dictatorial over the servants, and gave my commands as peremptorily, as if I had been an old farmer. Some of the old servants, who knew that my directions were improper, disputed my commands, and expostulated against my proceedings. However, like a true Jack in office, feeling that I was clothed with power, I considered this "brief authority" to be all-sufficient, and, like all other ignorant upstarts, what I was deficient in knowledge and real information, I made up in positiveness. But I soon found that by this foolish course, I lost all influence, and that I was laughed at by the old servants, who knew very well how to please my father, and I was, therefore, astonished that they did not know how to please me. My own sense now whispered to me that I must be wrong, yet, I nevertheless, appealed to my father, and complained of some of the servants having refused to comply with my directions. He enquired what those directions were, and he soon taught me that I ought to have applied for information to, and have followed the advice of, those very men with whom I had been contending. My father then pointed out to me the absolute necessity of becoming a master of my own business, and learning how to do the work myself, before I attempted to give directions to others. "This want of knowledge," said he, "causes more than half of the quarrels and squabbles that arise between the master and the servant. The moment a servant finds out that his master does not understand the nature of his business, he immediately begins to dispute his orders, and then there is an end of all authority; the master probably perseveres in his error, and insists upon it that his servant has not done his work properly, or that he has not done enough; and the moment a master orders a servant to do what is unreasonable, that moment the servant despises the master. And, unless the master knows how himself to shew the servant with his own hands the way to do any thing, he had better hold his tongue, and not find any fault whatever. I found my old neighbour Barnes," continued he, "the other day in this predicament. Although he has been for many many years a farmer, and manages his farm as well as most men, yet, as he was bred up a gardener, he does not know, nor did he ever learn, how to perform many of the laborious parts of husbandry; and I shall, I am sure, convince you, from what occurred to him, of the absolute necessity of acquiring a knowledge of every minute operation belonging to the affairs of husbandry, before you will be able to manage your business with ease to yourself, and with satisfaction to your servants. As I was riding past the risk yard of my worthy friend and neighbour Barnes's farm, I heard him storming and blustering, quite in a rage with passion. "What is the matter, friend Barnes? what is it that has ruffed your temper so?" He was nearly choaked with passion; but at length he informed me, that one of his labourers, of the name of RODNEY, (who, by-the-bye, I believe had acquired this nick name from the circumstance of his having been a sailor, and fought under Admiral Rodney) had behaved to him in the most insolent manner.

"What has he done, neighbour Barnes?"

"Why," said he, "I found fault with the fellow several times, for not making the Helms properly, for thatching the ricks, and he told me as often that he could not make them any better, and at length he put his hand into his pocket, pulled out his purse, and with an oath declared that he would make an Helm with me for a wager of a shilling." "Well, neighbour Barnes, what did you do, did you accept his offer, or did you shew him how to do it without the wager"? "Oh, no, replied he, I will send the insolent scoundrel about his business." Upon which, guessing that my neighbour did not understand how to make a helm himself, therefore could not shew the man how to do it, I said, "let me see the fellow, and talk to him a little, and hear what he has got to say for himself; and let me see whether I cannot make him do his work better." We then rode back together to the man, who was doing his work certainly not so well as it ought to have been done. "Well, Rodney," said I to him, "what is all this dispute about, between your master and you?" "Lord, Sir," replied the man, "I do the work as well as I can; but master is always finding fault, and wont show me how to do it better. I am very willing to learn, Sir, and if you will please to show me how, I will do any thing to please in my power." I then alighted from my horse, and having made some Helms, convinced the man of his error, by ocular demonstration. He was very thankful for my kindness, immediately followed my example, and did the remainder of his work to the thorough satisfaction of his master as well as with ease to himself. Barnes was now grown cool, and, while he expressed his thanks to me, he admitted the great superiority that a man who knows the practical part of his business had over one who only knew the theory."["]

This was the method my father took, to instruct me in useful knowledge; and, as my sister grew better and gained strength, he by degrees began to accompany me over his farms again, and in his rounds he made it his peculiar business to explain every part of the operations that were in progress by the servants. He appeared to take quite as much delight in cultivating my mind as he did in cultivating the soil, and no man knew better than he did how to cultivate the soil and manage a farm in all its branches. When there was any particular work to do, I always made a hand in it, and my father never failed to take pains to shew me how to do it well, and in the most scientific manner; always observing, that no man could perform his work well unless he appeared to do it easily to himself. Sowing time came, I learned to sow; haymaking time came, I learned to mow; harvest came, I learned to reap; in fact, I learned not only to plough, to sow, to reap, to mow, to pitch, to load, to make ricks, to thrash, and to winnow, but I made it my study to excel in all these things; and in recounting some of my feats of activity, strength, agility, and perseverance in these matters, the reader will recollect that I am recording them in the life time of numerous individuals, who were eye-witnesses of these facts, and who worked side by side with me; and as I know that this work is taken in, and read, not only by my old school-fellows, but also by my old[8] work-fellows, they who peruse these pages will take into their consideration, that I am not writing, neither are they reading, a novel or a romance; that on the contrary, they are perusing the real facts that have occurred within the knowledge and the recollection of thousands.

After the labour of the day was over, and the servants had retired to their homes to obtain their natural rest, to fit them for the toils of the coming morn, my father used to read, alternately with myself, some useful or entertaining book; and be frequently lamented that I appeared to give up so much the study of my Latin books. I had all along spent a few hours, twice or three times a week, in reading the Classics with the Rev. Mr. Carrington, the clergyman of the parish, who was an excellent scholar, and a very sensible, liberal-minded, worthy man. To him I am greatly indebted for a deal of useful, sound information, and a knowledge of that portion of mankind with whom my father had never associated. Mr. now the Rev. Dr. Carrington, the Rector of Berkeley, in Gloucestershire, took great pleasure in completing my education; and at the end of one year, with the advantage of this friendly assistance, I believe sincerely that I had acquired more knowledge, both of literature and of ancient and modern history, than I should have done in seven years at college.

Although my time was so much occupied in the business of the farms, yet I longed for the refined instruction of the mind, which was conveyed with so much kindness, with so much care, and with so much assiduity, by this worthy and intelligent man. He was at that time denominated by the vulgar, illiterate, grovelling, low-bred slaves of the day, a jacobin; and this excellent, enlightened being, who possessed more real love of country than a legion of the reptiles with which he was surrounded, was constantly exposed to the petty insults of some of his big-bellied, big-headed, empty-pated neighbours, who termed themselves loyal and constitutional subjects, and who took upon themselves to point him out as an enemy to his country, because he did not choose to shut his eyes and join in the war-whoop, the savage, stupid, ideotic cry against the patriotic efforts that were then making by the friends of liberty in France, to rescue their fellow countrymen from the accursed yoke, the double bondage of superstition and tyranny.

This was the period that the people of England, at all times and in all ages esteemed the most credulous people in the universe, were made drunk with their own ignorance and folly. Mr. Paine had now written and published his wonderful book, his "Rights of Man," and to put down, to prevent the people from reading, to prejudice the public feeling, and to misrepresent and to vilify the author and his work, the whole power of this powerful government was put in motion. I was myself at this time too young to take any active part in the proceedings; I knew nothing of politics; I loved my country, and was taught to honour my king; I knew not what to make of the violence and bigotry of faction; but I always so far stood by, and gave that support to, my tutor and friend, as to demand that he should be heard in his own defence, when any of these brutal attacks were made upon him by his half-savage, half-human assailants. My father was a loyal, but a liberal-minded man; when he was present, the parson always had fair play; my father would combat his arguments, but he would always in return hear his reply, and, although he was a very shrewd, intelligent, well-informed man, yet I generally observed that Mr. Carrington had the best of the argument, and that he frequently convinced my father of the truth of his positions. As my father was obliged, in fairness, to admit the truth of his opponent's assertions, and the correctness of his reasonings, and the conclusions which he drew therefrom, he generally finished by putting in the plea of necessity, and defending the government and measures of Mr. Pitt, on the ground of policy. This used to enrage their audience, which consisted of the farmers of the parish and neighbourhood, among whom was frequently some upstart puppy, some ineffable coxcomb, one of their sons, perhaps, apprenticed at the neighbouring town, who came home on a Sunday, at Easter, Whitsuntide, Michaelmas, or Christmas, on a visit, and who had imbibed a double portion of the mania, in consequence of his having licked up the froth and saliva which had been vomited forth by the ministerial agents and tools of the rotten borough, or corporate town, of which his master was one of the rotten limbs. How often have I seen one of these self-sufficient cubs, with all the solemn mummery, without half the sense, of an ape, deliver what the fool vainly called his opinion, which consisted of the most stupid and senseless contradictions and assertions, generally finishing with something which he conceived to be unanswerable, "as our mayor said!" How often have I felt my blood boil, to hear my worthy friend and preceptor insulted by one of these contemptible jackanapes. In fact, more than once, when I found that my friend the clergyman did not condescend even to return a look of contempt in answer to such despicable trash, I have taken up the cudgels myself; but, being fully as ignorant of such matters as my opponent, it generally followed that I retorted nothing more than flat contradictions to his assertions, and frequently I proposed to settle the dispute by an appeal to force; and sometimes it actually ended in blows. My worthy friend used at first to laugh at my zeal most heartily; but when he found that I more than once concluded by a knock-down argument, he begged me to moderate my ardour, and expostulated with me upon the impropriety, as well as the absurdity, of my following the example of such contemptible opponents, by falling into the very error which he and all good and honest men must deplore, "that of resorting to brute force, instead of relying upon truth, reason, and justice."